#the capitol thinks its so he can carry a piece of her with him into the games
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Sunday, Dec 10: Silk/ Steel It was rare for the royal palanquin to be seen in the markets of the capitol city of caldera. After all the royal had most there food delivered and needs meet inside the palace and there wasn't much need for them to been seen in public unless it was needed.Therefore the public were excited to see the closed up palanquin, but were pushed away if they got to close.Inside the palanquin Ursa placed her hands on the side of the closed up palanquin a bit frustrated as the man across from her eyed her up.
“i don't get why your taken me to the markets if I can't even look at them ?” Ursa moaned dishearten
“Its most like people know what I look like yet.”the man eyes narrowed“Our bethorment just became official to the people. I don't want us to be hounded by admires when we are only our for one thing and one things alone.”
Yes her becoming his betrothed had been arranged week before the announcement, but the royal wanted to keep it knowledge on the down low until they formed a story befitting her, thus hiding the truth of her actual origins.
“so why are have you invited me to come along today?”
“I told you it a surprise.”
She crossed her arms a bit, she looked away and sulked yet smiled, at first she must admit to be around Ozai was intimated and she walked on egg shells around him scared of his power. However he was very understanding of her and allowed her to express herself on some levels, although she had towed the line and tested his temper, but on the most part she was graceful for his tolerance of her nature
.She still felt the cold wood with her hands, she hadn't bee in the hand carried royal palanquin yet, of course she been in that carriage as she was escorted by her now betrothed and the Fire Lord himself from her him, but the palanquin was new and different.She felt the movement stop and she stiffened up as the man who carried them placed the palanquin down.
“How do you deal with the movements of this thing? “ Ursa asked weary
Ozai sighed as he stood up as he opened the door and stepped down carefully placed steps and stood and extended his hand to her. Ursa moved carefully not used to her long clothing.
Still unofficially a member of the royal household, she was not permitted to wear royal clothing, but wore fine fitted silk kimonos. That were finely decorated with embodied with flames and dragons.They entered a shop and Ozai lead her to the man as the desk.
“fire Prince Ozai an hour to have you in my humble shop.”
“Ah role there nothing humble about your shop.”Ozai moved and pointed to Ursa,
“This is my betrothed Ursa, I am here so you can show her what your working on for her.”
The man In the shop came from behind the counter.
“ I am Roji milady Ursa, I serve as the royal robe maker and designer an honour to meet your Ladyship.”
He kissed her hand and bowed.Ursa give an awkward smile as he moved around the shop and pulled back a curtain.“
"Fire prince I received the Ladyship measurement and I present the royal robes she shall wear, they shall enhance her femininity beautifully.”
Ursa looked over to the, , the deep red of the silk the way the shoulder pad were different from Ozai's royal garments, but added long yellow tassels
.“There different from your aren't they Ozai.”
“A little,but were here for other matters to.”
He pulled her to the counter and turned his back and looked over some of the silks that line the place.Roji laughed as he took his sketch out to show her.
“This is what the royal wedding kimono shall look like, it shall be made of the finest silks in the world.”
Ursa face dropped in awe at the sketch, how he wrote what silks he would use.“Isn't white our nations funereal colour?” She questioned
“It is but it also used in weddings sometimes to represent the purest of flames.”
“it looks like it shall be a spectacular piece, Ozai what do you think?
”Although he wasn't looking, he sighed.
“Ursa I am not permitted to see any images or the dress itself to our wedding day ,royal tradition so I can't have an option.”Ursa shrugged
“Then I guess keep going with your hard work, I am sure the the actual dress shall match this sketch, your work speaks for itself in the fines robes you have designed for me.” She said in a diplomatic way with that Ursa walked to Ozai side, she grinned as she placed his hand over some silk too, she looked to him with a sweet smile
.He blushed a bit as he looked at away.
“Let us depart back to the palace dear.”He bowed to to the Roji and escorted Ursa back to the palanquin.@urzaiweekblog
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Take a Look, Cooper.
content warning drug overdose suicide murder.
Sitting in a hotel room in Washington DC, Cooper stared from the note in his hands to the bottle of pillows on his nightstand. The television blared, as He glanced out the window, seeing Capitol Hill in all its American Glory. A crowd was beginning to form , the president was going to give a speech, spread his nationalistic hate. “And later, the president will give a speech on his recent executive order abou-“ With a grunt, the eighteen year old clicked the tv off, as he pulled the curtains shut, before picking up the bottle of pills. This was it. The pain would stop.
He raised the bottle to his lips, only to be stopped by soft humming of an oddly familiar tune(she can’t whistle lol). He whirled around, dropping some of the white capsules on the ground, hiding the bottle behind his back. A woman stood in front of him, dressed rather warmly for a summer day, in clothing that seemed out-dated. A hat, a coat pulled tightly around her shirt (a shirtwaist, some part of him whispered), a red scarf wrapped around her neck, a scar down one cheek.
“Apologies. I didn’t know the room was occupied.” She didn’t sound sorry as she made to leave. “please, carry on with… whatever you were doing.” She glanced up at the thermostat, arching a brow. “Is that really the temperature?” Cooper, shocked slightly, giving a curt nod “feels much colder.” The woman pulled her coat tightly around herself. As she walked to the door, she flicked the television back on.
“-Will not be addressing controversies relating to his recent ban on tra-“
Cooper walked over, turning the tv off. However, the woman wandered over to the desk, picking up a piece of paper. She began to read.
“Dear whoever finds me.
Today I end my life so that I can finaly have an escape from this body. Last night, I realized-“
Cooper ripped it away from her.
“Oh, I’m sorry, was that yours?” The woman asked, unsmiling yet not sorry.
“Fuck you!” Cooper snarled, backing away and shoving the note into his pocket.
The woman blinked, seeming genuinely concerned. “oh I’m sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
Cooper stormed away, walking to the door. “Cooper, wait! I didn’t mean to-“ The woman called after him.
Cooper whirled around “what did you call me!”he hissed, fear in his eyes.
The woman pulled back slightly, arching a brow. “That is your name, isn’t it? Of course , your room is booked under the name Oscar-“
“How do you know my name?”
“oh, I know lots of things about you.” The woman shrugged, slipping her hands into her pockets and stepping forward. “Let’s see. Born. june 14 2002, mother: Millie Eleanor John, father: Robert St John, you realized you were a man at age 17. And this morning, you told your host family you would meet up with them after church because you weren’t feeling well, you waved goodbye to Brady Larson, who you have a crush on, and you locked the door, planning to kill your self.
Cooper’s eyes widened. “Who a-are you?”
She simply shrugged. “I’m your friend, Cooper.”
Cooper flinched “I don’t have friends “
“Oh, sure you do. You just haven’t met them yet.”
“Show my your badge”
“My what”
“Your. Badge.”
“Oh… you think I’m one of the cops. “
“How ELSE do you know everything about me! Who I am, what I want-“
“What do you want, Cooper?” The woman asked, cutting through his panicked monologue.
“I want-“ Cooper swallowed “I WANT them all to listen! I want them to pay attention!”
“It… won’t happen.” The woman whispered, the words freezing Cooper. “They won’t ever listen. Unless… if you kill the president.”
Cooper’s eyes went wide. “W-what!!”
The woman nodded, repeating her instructions. “You have to kill the president.”
Cooper shook his head, his eyes darting fearfully. “I-I didn’t come here to shoot him!”
She shook her head. “He didn't come here to get shot,” she stepped closer to him as she spoke, and by the end of her monologue she was standing just a little finger away. “All your life you've been a victim, Cooper. A victim of indifference and neglect. Of your mother's scorn, your classmates contempt, of American stupidity, American injustice. You've finally had enough, so how're you planning to get even? By becoming your own victim.”
Cooper stepped back. “You- I-“
He quickly walked to the desk, turning away from her, his hands pressed into the wood as he struggled for air.
“Cooper… you have to do this. Don’t let your life be in vain.”
“I’m not a killer!!” Cooper gasped out, whirling to face her, tears in his eyes!
She shook her head. “Cooper. When you kill a president, a TYRANT, it isn’t murder. It is an assassination!” She spread her arms on the final word, eyes alight with determination. “And HISTORY pays attention. To all of us!”
“Who… are you?” Cooper whispered.
“My name is Mira Bloomberg.” Mira responded, voice even.
“Mira Bloomberg… Killed Woodrow Wilson.”
“Attention has been paid... All your life you wanted to be part of something, Cooper. You're finally going to get your wish. “
The bathroom door opened, and one by one, nine others trickled into the room.
“What is this?” Cooper whispered in fear and awe
“This is History, Cooper.” A kid in a blue hoodie chorused, speaking up, before adding
“My name is Billy Lingban. I assassinated Barak Obama.”
Next, a woman in a nun’s habit spoke.
“Marina John! I killed William Clinton.”
“Mariya Langdon. Regan” another woman added
The man in the trench coat piped up next.
“Ralph Myers. I tried to kill Jimmy Carter.”
A man in a hat spoke next, his voice soft, a sharp contrast to the exited man before him. “Leung Cheng Fai. Chester A. Arthur.”
Another man as well as a young boy stepped forward, the boy sighning as the man spoke. “Harvey Schwartz and Ollie Kieta. Herbert Hoover.”
A Latina woman spoke next. “Linda Castillo Lopez. George W. Bush.”
Finally, a man in a suit like that of a secret service agent stepped up. “Graham Watts. Lyndon B. Johnson.”
Cooper stared at the band in fear, mustering out “I don't get this—“
Billy: “It's simple, Cooper.”
Mariya: “You're going to bring us back.”
Marina: “We're in your debt, old boy.”
Graham: “This one’s for you, kid. “
Ralph: “Bravo!”
Harvey: “What's he doing?”
Cooper walked over to the bottle of pills, chocking down several. “G-getting OUT of here!!” He gasped out, tears welling up in his eyes.
Marina gasped, reaching out for cooper.
“You mean you're not going to do it?”
“Goddamn right!” Cooper coughed out tearfully.
“He's not going to do it!” Marina gasped, shocked
“You said he would!” Linda pointed angrily at Mira
“You promised!” Ollie signed
Mira frowned, calming the group quickly.
“Okay, okay, shhh...”
She then walked up to Cooper, her hand hovering over his shoulder.”
“Cooper, I'm sorry. I know things are happening kind of fast here. But you can't leave now.
Cooper shook his head.
“No? Watch me—“
Mira angrily cut him off.
“No, you have a responsibility here, Cooper.”
Cooper flinched
“To who? To you?
I'm responsible to me and no one else”
Mira paused for a moment, before stating. “Cooper… walk with me.” Her voice commanding. Cooper blinked, but did as ordered, following her through the bathroom door only to suddenly find himself on the street, the ghosts surrounding him. A gun was grasped in his hand.
“H-how!” Cooper nearly dropped the weapon.
Billy couldn’t help but chuckle at his shock. “It’s always been easy to get a gun in this country. Land of the free!” He smirked at Mira, who glared at him, before turning to Cooper.
“Take a look, Lee. You know what that is, right here on this street corner? That is America. The land Where Any Kid Can Grow Up to Be President. The Shining City, Cooper. It shines so bright you have to shade your eyes. But, this is America too. The homeless man, fired despite the years of service he gave to the ideal of patriotism, who will freeze this winter. That woman over there, who will be unable to get healthcare for the tumor growing in her heart. That boy, trapped in the wrong body, banned from getting the medical care he needs. This is America, Cooper. WE are America. And when you shoot the president, you will remind the country that we are here!”
Cooper, near moved to tears, still shook his head.
Mira suddenly glanced up.
“Screw it. August Spies?”
[SPIES’S VOICE]
“The day will come when our silence will be more powerful then the voices you strangle today!”
“Who's next?! Who else is out there?!”
[ANOTHER VOICE, spoken]
“I have killed a king, I have killed a principle.”
Mira
“Of course, of course! Gaetano Bresci!”
Mira
“And Leon Czolgosz!”
“I dont beleve one man should have so much service when other men have none!”
“Why do these anarchists always have four syllable names? Leon Czolgosz, Mira Bloomberg —“
“Cooper St. John!”
The assassins fell silent, and Cooper gasped, his eyes wide.
Softly, gently, Mira spoke.
“I've seen the future, Cooper. And you are it.”
Cooper blinked, and then there he was, in a bustling crowd. But it was silent. He was wearing a stupid red hat.
“People will hate me. “ Cooper whispered
“They will hate you with a passion, Cooper. And they will love you with a passion. Imagine people having passionate feelings about Cooper Saint John…
Somebody. Help me...”
[fai steps forward, speaks in Chinese. The ASSASSINS translate.]
Marina
“Please. I beseech you...”
Mariya
“We are the hopeless ones. The lost ones...”
Ralph
“We live our lives in exile...”
Billy
“Expatriates in our own country...”
Harvey
“We drift from birth to death, despairing...”
Linda
“Inconsolable...”
Ollie, signing
“But, through you and your act, we dare to hope...”
Graham
“Through you and your act we are revived and given meaning...”
Mira
“Our lives, our acts, are given meaning...”
Harvey
“Our frustrations fall away...”
Ralph
“Our fondest dreams come true...”
Linda
“Today, we are reborn, through you. “
Mariya
“We need you, Cooper. “
Graham
“Without you, we're just footnotes in a history book. “
Billy
"Disappointed teenager."
Marina
“Self-righteous nun.”
Mariya
“Forgotten madwoman.”
Mira
"Deranged immigrant."
Ralph
“Without you, we're a bunch of freaks. “
Ollie
“With you, we are a force of history. “
Harvey
“We become immortal. “
Fai
“Finally we belong. “
Linda
“To one another. “
Mira
“To the nation. “
Marina
“To the ages. “
Billy
“Bring us together, kid. “
Harvey
“You think you can't connect, connect to us. “
Graham
“You think you're powerless? Empower us. “
Mira
“It's in your grasp, Cooper. All you have to do is move your little finger. “
Marina
“I envy you...”
Harvey
“We're your family...”
Mariya
“I admire you...”
Billy
“I respect you...”
Fai
“Make us proud of you...”
Graham
“I envy you...”
Ralph
“We're your family...”
Graham
“I admire you...”
Billy and Mira
“We're depending on you...”
Fai
“You are the future...”
Linda and Marina
“We're your family...”
Graham and Mariya
“We envy you...”
Ralph and Ollie
“Make them listen to us, we've been waiting for you...”
Fai and Harvey”
“Make them listen, boy...”
One by one, the assassins fade away until Mira is left only
[ALL]
“We admire you...
We're your family...
You are the future...
We're depending on you...
Make us proud...
All you have to do is squeeze your little finger
Squeeze your little finger...”
Mira smiled, singing the last line as a solo
“You can change the wor—“
-
-
-
The president’s been shot
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would you ever do a hunger games au? like anakin and obi-wan in the arena and doing a katniss and peeta thing where they both survive? anakin maybe killing the competitors so obi-wan wouldn't have to? (just thinking that child killing is in character for him) anyway no pressure or anything I just haven't stopped thinking about a hunger games au of obikin and. I thought maybe you could do something with it!
i need you to know i shamefully snorted at the child murder thing i'm sorry and i'm also sorry this took so long and it's a bit all over the place and doesn't actually get into the Games at all (+ it's been years since I read the books so all inaccuracies should be tastefully ignored pls) this may not be what you asked for tbh but here you go!!
(content warnings: hunger games typical discussion of child murder, but nothing graphic)
(1.7k)
Anakin’s first emotion after his name is called is a strange sense of relief.
Good, he thinks. I’ll get to go with Obi-Wan. He won’t be alone.
He dutifully steps forward out of the crowd towards the stage, where the announcer is waiting next to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan who is looking at him with an expression of naked devastation.
Anakin tries to convey that it’ll be alright, that it’s fine, that they knew this was a possibility. Sure, it’s Anakin’s last year eligible to be in the Games. Sure his nineteenth birthday is in two weeks, at which point he would become too old to qualify as a child to the Capitol, but what’s done is done.
Obi-Wan will be his mentor, because Obi-Wan has been the mentor for District Four ever since he won his own Games seven years ago when he was sixteen and Anakin was twelve.
That year’s known unofficially as the most boring Games in Panem history, but the Capitol loves how handsome Obi-Wan’s grown to be. So what if he didn’t kill his competitors messily or with a bloodthirsty joy? He’s so polite in his interviews all these years later, and look at those dimples!
It makes Anakin sick, every time Obi-Wan has to leave District Four and travel to the Capitol to be fawned over and stroked and used. His nightmares are always worse the weeks after he gets back, and he never lets Anakin hold him during them.
And it’s even worse during the actual Games, when Obi-Wan is put in charge of two children’s lives only to see them brutally murdered on screen a week later. The cameras always show his reaction when the competitors from District Four die. They must think he cries pretty or something.
Anakin hates the Capitol. He hates them for what they’ve done to Obi-Wan. What they’ve made him into
As he gets close enough to the stage, he notices that Obi-Wan’s hands are shaking slightly.
He doesn’t even listen to the name of the girl being called. She’s not important. She’ll be dead in a few days time. What’s important is Obi-Wan. What’s important is comforting him, is reassuring him. Is coming back to him.
This is the moment when Anakin resolves that these Games will become known as the quickest in history.
---
The girl is understandably sullen and upset on the train. “I should get a different mentor!” she demands. “It’s obvious you’re going to play favorites with him.”
Anakin doesn’t snap back because she’ll be dead in a few days. Though she really shouldn’t use that tone with Obi-Wan.
“I’m not playing favorites,” Obi-Wan insists. “I don’t have favorites.”
“You literally just wiped sauce off his mouth with your finger,” the girl points out. “And then he licked it!”
Anakin smirks at her. Of course Obi-Wan has favorites. Of course Anakin is Obi-Wan’s favorite. It took him years to wear down Obi-Wan until he allowed him this close, and years after that until he finally got to kiss him for the first time, just a few months ago.
If she thinks he’s going to give up any of his Obi-Wan time so she can get her hopes up about not dying in a few days, she’s got another thing coming.
But Obi-Wan shifts away from him and he looks guilty.
If Anakin could get away with killing the other person from his district, he would. But it’d probably make Obi-Wan sad.
“Is whining part of your strategy?” he asks waspishly instead. “I don’t think it’ll make you many allies.”
She has the nerve to look offended.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chides. Underneath the table, he squeezes his knee.
“Everyone in the district knows about you two,” she glares at him. “You haven’t exactly kept it a secret.”
Anakin hasn’t exactly tried to keep it a secret. The first night Obi-Wan had kissed him, he went straight home and told his mother, his neighbor, his schoolmates, his cat, and his ex-girlfriend.
(No one had been surprised, except maybe the cat.)
“It’s not fair,” she cries. “Who can I talk to to get a different mentor for me?”
“The ethics board,” Anakin smiles, all teeth, settling back into his seat and slinging an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, this time more exasperatedly. “Robin, I promise I will be the best mentor you can ask for. It is my wish to see you survive as long as possible in the next few weeks.”
The girl jumps to her feet in outrage. “You can’t even say you want me to win!” she yells. There are tears at the corners of her eyes. If she were a little less annoying, Anakin would feel quite bad for her. Obviously Obi-Wan doesn’t want her to win. Anakin’s right here.
She storms out of the train compartment, her face in her hands. Anakin barely waits for the door to close before he’s slipping into Obi-Wan’s lap and throwing his arms around his neck with a groan. “God, I thought she’d never leave.”
He isn’t pushed away. Obi-Wan must realize they only have a handful of days left to be together before he goes into the arena.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says wearily, even as his arms encircle his waist.
Anakin presses a kiss to his nose and then another to his cheek. “It’s alright to have favorites, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs. “And she should know there’s no way she’s winning anything. Don’t waste your time.”
“I will do everything I can to make sure she survives as long as possible,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I don’t think I can survive anything else.”
Obi-Wan’s voice sounds shaky, so Anakin presses their lips together. Best not to talk for awhile.
------
“We should discuss strategy,” Obi-Wan says later that night through frantic kisses. “Sponsors, story, training--”
“I have a strategy,” Anakin murmurs back as he moves further down the bed, rucking up his partner’s shirt. “Win.”
----
“You look absolutely radiant,” Anakin tells the girl in an undertone while they’re in line for their interviews. She turns around to glare at him. The designer for their district has gone for the typical fish designs that people always associate with District Four, and they’ve dressed her up in a shimmering iridescent gown that flares at the ends like a fish’s tail.
Anakin’s own outfit is mostly a fishing net draped over one shoulder and a pair of tight pants. The designer, much to Obi-Wan’s embarrassment and Anakin’s satisfaction, had taken one look at his shirtless chest and decided to dress him in as little clothes as possible.
“Weird braid,” is all she says.
Obi-Wan had done it late last night when both of them had tired each other out and Anakin had curled up on his chest. After his Games, Obi-Wan’s hands like to do something. The repetitive motion of braiding and unbraiding Anakin’s hair soothes his demons.
It’s one of the reasons Anakin’s grown it out to his shoulders, much longer than is practical for his district.
Obi-Wan had gone to unbraid it, and Anakin had stopped him. He wanted to keep it. To wear it into the Games.
“Thank you,” he says generously. “I saw your score. 7’s not too bad.”
She sneers at him. “Did you celebrate your 11 with your boyfriend?”
“Oh sorry,” he winces. “Did you hear us? I’m just so bad at biting my tongue when he does this thing with his.”
She scoffs in disgust and turns back around. “I hope he has to watch you die.”
Anakin glares at her back. He knows he can’t kill her himself. But there has to be a way to hurt her and her chances and still have plausible deniability.
When it’s her turn for an interview, she’s vapid and pretty. She laughs and touches the interviewer’s arm.
“I’ve never spent much time in District Four,” the interviewer says jovially. “But tell me, really. Is everyone there as beautiful as the people you keep sending us? I mean. Obi-Wan Kenobi, ladies and gentlemen, am I right?” The audience laughs and hollers. Anakin hates them all. “And now you, Robin, and Anakin Skywalker. Damn!”
Robin--Anakin needs to stop forgetting her name--giggles high in her throat. “It was a very, very enjoyable train ride up,” she says with a stupid wiggle of her eyebrows. “Just this side of too long.”
The audience loses it.
Anakin loses it.
He can’t believe she’s sitting there publicly suggesting that Anakin shares Obi-Wan with anyone. With her. The nerve.
The camera pans to Obi-Wan in the crowd, who looks shocked, embarrassed, and deeply troubled.
Anakin won’t let this stand. He just hopes Obi-Wan forgives him.
The interviewer greets him excitedly when he walks out, and Anakin gives him a sheepish sort of smile.
“Lady killer Skywalker!” the interviewer says. Anakin laughs along with him. “All the girls back home must have been heartbroken to see you leave.”
“But I’ve heard they love watching me go,” he jokes with a charming smile. If that girl--Robin--can do it, he can do it much better. “There’s really only one person for me though,” he murmurs, letting his smile die.
“Oh?” The interviewer asks, leaning forward with interest.
“But sometimes I wonder if they’re only using me for my body,” he says, casting his eyes down. “I love them. Heart and soul, everything I am. But when I told them, they just laughed.”
This is technically true. The first time Anakin had told Obi-Wan that he was in love with him, the older boy had laughed his confession off, saying he was too young to know what he wanted.
“Oh, to be young and in love,” the interviewer sighs theatrically. “So your plan is to win the Games and then win her heart when you get back home?”
Anakin makes himself look sad. Tragically sad. Like he can’t bear to go on.
“They came with me,” he says.
If the audience’s reaction to Robin’s fake confession was huge, its reaction to Anakin’s words is even bigger. Of course they think he’s talking about the girl. That’s exactly what Anakin had wanted. Now he’s the broken-hearted boy and she’s the vapid, self-absorbed bitch. She'll have a hard time finding sponsors now.
It’s very, very hard to hide his smile, a task made exponentially more hard when he sees Obi-Wan bury his face in his hands.
“It’s alright,” Anakin tells the interviewer, without taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan. “I’ll survive.”
#asks#hunger games au#anakin's a bit dark here lets be real i love writing him like that#his games are the quickest games for sure#he does lose his right arm#but he wins#and then moves in with obi-wan#and obi-wan kisses every mechanical finger of his hand before bed each night#anakins just so heartbroken over the death of the girl#that he leans on obi-wan to help in the aftermath#(the story he'll tell the capitol people)#thank god his friend obi-wan is such a strong rock in these times#he has to write the girl's name on his hand so he doesnt forget it#the capitol thinks its so he can carry a piece of her with him into the games#shes furious but how is she gonna set the record straight without admitting to lying herself?#she started it anakin was just finishing it#bitchy dark obsessed anakin my love#obi-wan would be just as obsessed remember#he spends anakins games avidly watching and worrying and going around trying to get sponsors for him#but like within 50 hours the games are over anakin won#obi-wans gotta call everyone back and be like 'um never mind haha'#prompt fill#obikin
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Hiiii! Here’s part two of my Katniss and Peeta Taking Of Each Other bookcomb! It’s pretty long so … sorry 😬. There was a lot I didn’t include and a lot I wasn’t sure about including, because so much of Catching Fire and Mockingjay is about them wanting to protect the other but I tried to narrow it down to actual acts that were caring, or times they at least tried to care for the other.
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Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips — he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg — and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way.
-
“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. The Peacekeepers follow a pace or two behind us.
-
Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. 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, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment.
-
“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.
“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”
-
When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.
“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily.
“Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tailbone’s had a bad day, too.” He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion.
My mother eases off my boots. “What happened?”
“I slipped and fell,” I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. “On some ice.” But we all know the house must be bugged and it’s not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now.
-
My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there.
-
Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. “Almost thought you’d changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner.”
I’m foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I’d made a run for it, maybe with Gale.
“No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today.
-
Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television.
-
Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.
-
“Why would he paint a picture of me, Effie?” I ask, somehow annoyed.
“To show he’s going to do everything he can to defend you. That’s what everyone in the Capitol’s expecting, anyway. Didn’t he volunteer to go in with you?” Effie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
-
I lock my fingers tightly into his and say, “Watch my feet. Just try to step where I step.” It helps. We seem to move a little faster, but never enough to afford a rest, and the mist continues to lap at our heels.
-
Peeta and Finnick and I position ourselves in a triangle, a few yards apart, our backs to one another. My heart sinks as my fingers draw back my last arrow. Then I remember Peeta has a sheath, too. And he’s not shooting, he’s hacking away with that knife. My own knife is out now, but the monkeys are quicker, can spring in and out so fast you can barely react.
“Peeta!” I shout. “Your arrows!”
Peeta turns to see my predicament and is sliding off his sheath when it happens. A monkey lunges out of a tree for his chest. I have no arrow, no way to shoot. I can hear the thud of Finnick’s trident finding another mark and know his weapon is occupied. Peeta’s knife arm is disabled as he tries to remove the sheath. I throw my knife at the oncoming mutt but the creature somersaults, evading the blade, and stays on its trajectory.
Weaponless, defenseless, I do the only thing I can think of. I run for Peeta, to knock him to the ground, to protect his body with mine, even though I know I won’t make it in time.
-
While I help Peeta coat his skin with the ointment, Finnick deftly cleans the meat from the shellfish.
-
I stretch out, pressing my hot cheek on the grass mat, staring at the thing in aggravation. Peeta rubs a tense spot between my shoulders and I let myself relax a little.
-
I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.
“It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers.
-
“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”
I can’t protect him. I can’t move fast or far and my shooting abilities are questionable at best. I do the one thing I can to draw the attackers away from him and over to me. “Peeta!” I scream out. “Peeta! I’m here! Peeta!” Yes, I will draw them in, any in my vicinity, away from Peeta and over to me and the lightning tree that will soon be a weapon in and of itself. “I’m here! I’m here!” He won’t make it. Not with that leg in the night. He will never make it in time. “Peeta!”
-
I’m rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I’m in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. “When the war is over, if we’ve won, Peeta will be pardoned.”
-
At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”
Off camera, Snow orders, “End it!” Beetee throws the whole thing into chaos by flashing a still shot of me standing in front of the hospital at three-second intervals. But between the images, we are privy to the real-life action being played out on the set. Peeta’s attempt to continue speaking. The camera knocked down to record the white tiled floor. The scuffle of boots. The impact of the blow that’s inseparable from Peeta’s cry of pain.
And his blood as it splatters the tiles.
-
I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.” I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.
I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. So some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave.
-
In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.
“You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers.
“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.
-
“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”
I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”
“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”
-
It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.”
Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to . . .”
I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.”
His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs.
I help Peeta up and address Pollux.
-
While Cressida and Pollux make fur nests for each of us, I attend to Peeta’s wrists. Gently rinsing away the blood, putting on an antiseptic, and bandaging them beneath the cuffs.
-
By the time I make it back to the fence, I’m so sick and dizzy, Thom has to give me a ride home in the dead people’s cart. Help me to the sofa in the living room, where I watch the dust motes spin in the thin shafts of afternoon light.
My head snaps around at the hiss, but it takes awhile to believe he’s real. How could he have gotten here? I take in the claw marks from some wild animal, the back paw he holds slightly above the ground, the prominent bones in his face. He’s come on foot, then, all the way from 13. Maybe they kicked him out or maybe he just couldn’t stand it there without her, so he came looking.
[…]
Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. “She’s dead.” I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. “She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.” A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair. Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won’t go. He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually I fall unconscious. But he must understand. He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable acts. Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he’s there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.
-
Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup.
-
I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway.
-
Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver.
-
#everlark#thg#thgagain#bookcomb ♥️🔎#hunger games#katniss everdeen#Peeta mellark#catching fire#mockingjay#long post
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GQ MEXICO - PEDRO PASCAL 2021
It seems that Pedro Pascal is in all possible universes. Here and there. In the past, in the present, and in galaxies far, far away. Today, the actor is considered the great entertainment reference and one of those in charge of saving a franchise that seemed lost. Enough reasons to talk exclusively about discipline, gastronomy, creeds and how he traumatized his father in 30 seconds.
The RAE defines 'creed' as the set of ideas, principles or convictions of a person or a group. For example, by creed, one can leave his country and be in exile. It happens that one can leave the loved one behind. Or simply live in another reality. And also one can put on a helmet to pretend never to take it off again. If that is the path to follow, the creed says that it must be done with the profession of faith and without stopping to look. Turning the pages of the script for The Mandalorian , the Disney + series that revived passion and nostalgia for the Star Wars franchise , Pedro Pascal came across this definition in every dialogue and moment, and reflection carved his way.
More than two decades have passed since the Chilean-American, Pedro Pascal, began his acting career and today, named as the great reference of 2020 , he misses the theater and it still hurts him not to have the discipline to exercise and maintain a diet sana while acknowledging the irony of having the best year of her career in the midst of one of the worst in recent history. But even in physical solitude, the man who carried the best-selling Christmas baby rescues many positive things and shares his vision of the universes he has traveled through, his passion for distant galaxies and how to traumatize your family with a simple scene of TV. In an interview, the Mandalorian of Latinamerica.
IMDB named you the 2020 benchmark in entertainment, a year in which the world took refuge in fiction. How was living your best time locked up and what do you rescue on a human level from it?
The strength of family relationships and friendship. For them, we endure this physical loneliness. I do find it ironic that in 2020 I received projects so well received by the public, although they were carried out before the pandemic and their impact was during it, and that year I was isolated and alone. But I must emphasize that this loneliness is a privilege when many people had to continue working, surviving and maintaining the functioning of the world. We only had to be alone, but they more than that and you must value it too.
Among the activities you have missed, how much do you miss the theater?
Much indeed. It's something that I miss the most and being with people without being afraid. See a play and return to those experiences of being with people doing and living things in common. That is what I need most, in addition to my loved ones.
Disney fully entered streaming and its strong letter has your face, what do you think of the discussion of platforms against movie theaters?
There are incredible things in streaming and many people develop great projects that they did not have access to before. The diversity of voices is gaining ground and it is important to recognize that opportunities grow exponentially and boundaries change. It is incredible the availability that we have to very well made content and how creative people can share their work in different ways. But I also want to be honest: limiting the experience of watching content only on our gadgets or at home is a mistake that affects the stories we can tell. You have to achieve a mix of opportunities and challenges.
You jump between the fictional universes that mark the last decades until you reach the universe of universes. What is your first Star Wars memory and how do you summarize the essence of this legendary story?
For me, Star Wars is nostalgia itself. It is one of the primary things in my memory, of my childhood. I came to the United States with my Chilean family when I was less than two years old and one of my first memories is going to the movies with my dad to see the saga ; it becomes one of those romantic childhood things that opens your mind, so imagine how special it is to participate in this project. I think the creators of The Mandalorian perfectly understand this nostalgia and that power, and they managed to count on that element as a great ally for the world of Star Wars and I couldn't be happier to be part of it. (From which we expect the third season The Mandalorian)
The Mandalorian exploits the power and nuances of your voice, did you have that letter on your resume?
I didn't know I could do it, but I resorted to my theater preparation, which was very physical on all levels and feelings. There are elements that have to do with and that are essential to create a role, and they teach you that the voice is something primary, something you have to start with and you cannot hide. Now I have learned much more about the importance of that, and how to use it economically. The body also has to do with that, because something very subtle communicates something. In The Mandalorian , I had a great time figuring out how to do it, they gave me the opportunity to develop it in different ways. The opportunity to be very intense at it.
What happens to the ego when someone works under a suit and a mask?
In the conversations about the project, before doing it, we were communicated the idea and the concept of the entire season , so I clearly understood what it was. I wanted it to be the most powerful version of what they were trying to accomplish, so there was no point in involving my ego, you know? It was already very clear what the project meant, so I knew about the character , the piece that it represented for him and the opportunity that it was for me, so I was only focused on executing in a better way the part that touched me in everything this. In the theater, I worked several times under a mask and it helped me develop the experience.
It seems that The Mandalorian has a very theatrical base ...
Exactly, and thanks to the physical experience of working in theater, doing a play a few times a week, discovering how your body and your voice communicate , being part of a whole image, and how you will tell that story visually, I achieved this character. I never imagined that it would be something I would have to use on such an important Star Wars project .
On the list of entertainment greats, there are names like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, do you think John Favreau should be added to the list?
I think your name is already included. Without a doubt, it is in that category and it is incredible. His vision fascinates me. I remember an episode in the second season , and I had some boots and I walked so much in the snow, it stuck to them. He figured it out, so he talked to the art department about the kind of boots you need when you're out in the snow. They approached me and gave me new ones that fulfilled the idea I was looking for. He noticed it in an instant. It is such a wonderful detail and it is repeated to scale in every session with him. He thinks of absolutely everything and his vision of the use of technology is admirable. He is someone who makes you feel motivated and always sees how to achieve the goal.
One of the reflections in the series is on how and under what circumstances a man can break his creed and way of life. What makes you break with your beliefs?
I think that you must follow your heart so as not to regret anything; Although sometimes it brings pain or conflict, deep down when you look back, everything is worth it because it was what you heard in your heart. I am very afraid to deny that feeling or not to attend to it. I am 45 years old now and I cannot believe I have a finer philosophy. Make it more disciplined. It's ridiculous, but I'm trying to accept that I am and it's all I can say, "follow your heart." Although, you know, I'm not on a good diet yet, I still have trouble sleeping or exercising.
Still good at Chilean empanadas?
Yes, I couldn't stop. And also how good that I do not live in Mexico City because I would only spend it eating. I could move my whole life to defe just to eat.
I want to deviate and ask you, with whom did you see the chapter of your death in Game of Thrones and what traumas did you cause in your family?
For me, no trauma. I separate myself well from the characters , although I fully understand that if I were a Game of Thrones audience and loved that character, it would make an incredible impression on me. Thank you that it was not. I had to interpret it and there was a model of my head to be crushed that way with the tubes and the fake blood, you know? Me lying there, with pieces of my meat, it was funny in the end. But not for my family. For them there is nothing funny but traumatic. My dad's voice changed completely when we saw the episode, he turned around and said: “I didn't like it, Pedro . No, Pedro , not this ”.
The media found similarities between your villain in Wonder Woman: 1984 and Donald Trump. When playing a character with characteristics like this, do you humanize him or do you understand him?
The project had nothing to do with the former president. They always told me that my character in Wonder Woman: 1984 was emotionally messy, and I took that and took that as far as possible. Instead of creating it with images or certain inspirations from life, it was more to work with what was on the page. Personally, what made sense to me is the size of the story that is being told and there is always more, and we all want more. Creatively, if this makes sense, that meant "blowing her out of the park." Connect a hit with the character and be committed to telling his story faithfully, in a way that was true to me. So all the exterior elements found their way.
What a way to start 2021 with the theme of the Capitol ... How do you perceive that moment?
I am not a politician and it is not that I do not have an opinion about this type of event; however, it is not necessary to state the obvious. My opinion would be very simple compared to that of a person who studied this, who knows how to act in these kinds of scenarios; I believe that I am next to the majority who experienced this, which is the logical result of what we have experienced during these years and we are all horrified . It was distressing to see this violence.
If you had the monolith in your hands, what would your wish be?
My wish would be… it's impossible, really (laughs). I think it is to be together again, with less fear and that people have the opportunity to connect.
What is your position on the reality that Chile has experienced in recent years and how has the relationship with your country been since exile?
It is something that I am developing and I continue to do in my life, trying to understand that it is my home. To be in Chile is to be at home, but my life has been very nomadic, living different things and having many influences; so it is strange, I do not feel with the title of a complete Chilean identity nor with an American one.
Neither here nor there?
In a sense, but I'm also completely both. My parents are Chilean , my brothers were born there before my parents traveled, and I came back sometimes because my family is very large; in fact, my parents came back. It has always been there, it continues to develop, and it will be a part of me. I don't know if it answers your question, but it has a lot to do with who I am.
What is your relationship with Latin American cinema? Are you interested?
Much, it has invaded me in life like American cinema. The movies that I carry in my heart, seeing something like Y tu mama was also something that changed me; I also love the work that comes out of Chile , and the only thing I can say is that it is a cinema that needs more access and projects.
Today you have a comedy with Nicolas Cage on the door, can you tell us something?
It's my first shot at comedy , as a complete story within the genre. Speaking of American influences , in the 80s I saw all the films where Nicolas Cage appeared , he came into my life and it's great to be his partner after seeing all his performances.
How is the relationship you have with the comedy genre?
I love it, I have done a lot of comedy in the theater, what happens is that in film and television issues , I was always part of drama castings . And in the cinema, you go where the doors open; Although I identify with one or the other, I think that being an actor , one goes and does what one has to do. Comedy is something unique, it is very challenging because it must be very real to be funny, you cannot hide or use normal tricks. I was very excited to have this challenge in front of a camera.
Finally, Pedro, after going through so many fictional worlds, literally, what do you dream about when you sleep?
I dream that my bathroom is dirty, that I haven't done my math homework, that the oven is on and all that stuff. Sure, there are times when I close my eyes and see myself in all these projects , although my conscience is with the anxieties of the day that you can imagine.
Without a doubt, Pedro Pascal is a particular type .
English Tranlation: Google Translate
SOURCE: GQ MEXICO
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JiHo vs Geo (NCT JiHo’s Duality)
Fan Video by ‘NeoVerse’ on Youtube
(indented text = comments added by the maker of the video, in this case NeoVerse) So we all know JiHo. One of NCT’s rappers and dancers. She’s always portrayed as cool, confident, intimidating, so for today, let me introduce you to Geo.
The cute, easily embarrassed 00 liner, whom everyone in NCT (and the fandom) has a soft spot for. Though whenever Geo comes out she’s usually getting teased by the boys...
^^ Let’s get started!
[JiHo Vlive ft. Taeyong & Taeil 190407]
“So we’ll be in America soon for the second leg of the Tour.” Taeyong said. “Are you excited?” JiHo asked looking at the oldest of the three. “Yes, we’ll finally get to see all our overseas fans. And we’re even going to see Johnny’s home-”The 3 of them looked off camera once loud noise started to fill the room. The voices obviously belonged to Dream. Taeil and Taeyong shrugged it off and Taeil continued to talk. The noise wasn’t too loud, but it was still a bit distracting non the less.
JiHo continued looking off camera every once in a while. It looked like she finally made eye contact with one of the young boys, because she squinted her eyes a bit more and suddenly the room became silent besides for Taeil talking. The girl gave the tinniest nod before looking back at the camera and joining the two other men in their conversation.
In the background you could hear a door close just after a few silent “sorry’s” were heard.
JiHo: the NCT member who can make Dream, who never stop talking, shut up without even saying anything. The power this girl has
[‘NCT - RESONANCE Pt. 2’ Departure Ver. Jacket Behind the Scene]
Loud cheers filled the echo-y room as JiHo walked in. All the 23 boys were already in their spots, but the girl had walked in late (for an unknown reason). She hides her face in embarrassment as she approaches Renjun who was standing on the far right side of the bleacher-like structure. “JiHo needs to go up one level!” One of the staff members yelled.
JiHo gets up on the structure a hand helping her up, it was Johnny. As she stands up completely she notices she is standing between Johnny and Sungchan. “Please tell my I’m not standing between these two giants.” She looks in the direction of the staff, face full of concern. Her comment causing almost everyone to laugh. “Why? Don’t you like standing between us?” Johnny teased poking at her side. She squints her eyes at the taller man, triggering a few more laughs out of him.
The director instructs the girl to stand between Ten and Shotaro on the other side of the structure and she quickly walks over to them, almost tripping on her way over, where Ten greets her with a big hug. “Ah so cute~” Mark cooed, looking at the embarrassed girl.
[NCT World 2.0 ep 4]
It’s really no secret that JiHo is a very athletic person. She works out and tries out new sports for fun. So even though she might not have the strength as her male colleagues (well most of them, sorry Kun), she was definitely one of, if not the most, agile members in the group.
When they announced the next game, JiHo’s team mates had look slightly worried. The vault was already at 1.70 m which was already taller than her, though JiHo would never openly admit that.
It’s only when the vault is at 2 m high that the members realise the smaller girl had cleared all the previous heights successfully. She’s now standing at a couple meters away to sprint towards the vault.
“We didn’t expect JiHo to make it this far.” Defconn commented. “She’s definitely an ace.” Kim Hwan, the other presenter, added.
We’re talking about the same JiHo right? This girl can literally carry her members on her back!
“Wow~ Look at noona’s face.” Jisung pointed out to his team mates, who unfortunately didn’t make it. The girl had her eyes set on the vault. Completely focused she put up her fist. “JiHo, challenge!” Her first few steps were big but slow, then her pace started picking up, until she had reached the vault.
“Ji-” The camera picks up the shocked faces of the boys as her team members jump to her aid. JiHo was laying on her back on the blue mat, the vault in pieces all around her, with one of the pieces almost making its way towards the girl’s face. Thankfully because of the concerned boys’ fast reflexes they helped avoid a big accident.
“Are you okay?” Johnny asked now that they were standing again. “I think I can make it though...” She furrowed her brow, shocking the boys with her comment. Despite all the boys’ protest JiHo was one again standing at the starting position to run towards the vault.
Taeyong stood up in a panic. “She isn’t going to try again right-” “JiHo, challenge!” And without a second of hesitation she ran towards the vault, 5 boys ready to save her in case she was to fail again. Once her feet hit the mat she looked at the camera with a smirk on her face and a fist in the air. She had cleared the vault.
“I swear to God her confidence is going to be the dead of me.” Taeyong let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
[NCT World 2.0 ep 2]
JiHo’s challenge was to do a rope skipping routine. Since she has been rope skipping for as long as she can remember, it wasn’t really that hard. The challenging part came from that she had to learn a specific routine and execute it perfectly within 10 minutes.
After 3 minutes she had the short routine down, some moves were slightly more difficult, but nothing she couldn’t do.
“JiHo, challenge!” She yelled out. She pulled of the routine effortlessly. Or that’s what she thought at least. Everyone had jumped to their feet, cheering JiHo on those who never saw JiHo rope skipping completely in awe at what she just pulled off. “Let’s go-” Mark had yelled, just before the lights turned red. “Mission failed.” The deep voice boomed over the speakers. Everyone stunned, they could’ve sworn she just did it right. But after review JiHo realised her mistake.
She stood closely to Jaemin’s seat who asked her if she got the routine down now. JiHo nodded while she absentmindedly swung around the jump rope. A particularly hard swing causing the rope to round her back and hit her left arm harshly. The loud sound of the rope hitting her skin was accompanied with a wince at the sting. Jaemin had jumped up asking if JiHo was okay. The girl had slapped her hand against her reddening skin before she started whining that it hurt.
Jaemin took the opportunity to baby her. “Aigoo~ You need to be more careful.” He said rubbing her arms, before pulling her into a hug. The boys who sat a bit further away had started laughing once they realised the girl was okay. “Jaemin-ah, they are laughing at my pain.” She pouted and the boy pulled her closer, glaring at the other members.
Yangyang... I saw you laughing at our baby girl...
[NCT JiHo notices SASEANG at the Airport]
In the shaky fan video with not much context you could see NCT at the airport. The reason why they weren’t moving unknown. The only thing you could tell from the first half of the video was that NCT was standing in the middle of a clearing in the airport with tons of fans surrounding them.
Jeno and JiHo were standing next together, being filmed by the fan. She kept on glancing in a particular direction. At some point Jeno leaned in to whisper something in her ear and she shrugged in response, her body seemed a bit tense.
After another couple of seconds went by, JiHo suddenly starts moving in the direction of the fans - the same direction she kept glancing at. This caused the fans to start screaming and a body guard to quickly try and catch up with her.
It isn’t clear what’s being said, but JiHo exchanges some words with a male fan. She then puts her hand out, the fans around her going quiet. The man hands JiHo his unlocked phone and she starts scrolling through it. With a bitter look she hands the phone back, grabs her own, takes a picture of the man and then leaves. Once she reaches the boys again an indifferent expression remains on her face. Jeno’s hand massages the girl’s shoulder but she doesn’t seem to relax until they are able to leave the airport.
Apparently the male “fan” was a sasaeng and on his phone were pictures he had taken of JiHo and the rest of NCT (?) during their overseas schedules in places no fans were allowed. She deleted them and taken a picture of him for the security, possibly also for the authorities.
[NCT 127 fan event @ Capitol Records]
After everyone had gathered on stage, it was time for each member to introduce themselves. JiHo was last in line and when she started talking in her mic, it was clear that her mic did not work. The girl looked back at the staff, but they didn’t seem to notice directly, so she turned to her right and grabbed Doyoung’s mic. He didn’t let go of it, causing the girl to lean in towards Doyoung and start introducing herself. “Hi! I’m JiHo.” She giggled slightly embarrassed, which emitted a chorus of “awe’s” from the fans.
Later on in the interview, now with a working mic, the question “Who is the most attractive member of the group?” had been asked. Some members had answered already but the interviewer asked JiHo’s opinion. “Uhm...” She hummed as she looked over her members. “I think everyone is very attractive.” She gave as her final answer which left everyone a bit “disappointed”. A fan interjected, yelling, “We all know you think it’s Jungwoo!” JiHo’s face turned the brightest shade of red as she looked at the audience in shock. Everyone at the event had burst out laughing and JiHo sank back in her chair.
[NCT JIHO Choreography | More Than That (Lauren Jauregui)]
JiHo’s know as a bit of a tomboy. I mean she hangs out with dudes pretty much 24/7. So when she dropped this video, let me tell you, we NCTzens were shook.
As the music starts playing the lights slowly turn on. JiHo is sat in the middle of a dance practise room in a chair, head tilted slightly backwards, exposing her neck.
The camera comes closer and JiHo makes eye contact with it, her mouth is slightly agape and she stands up. She hits every beat, dancing in her own, cool style, nothing very girly or sexy, until a certain line comes up.
“I got a situation, I can tell you wanna know“
She brings her clasped hands up, stretching them out above her hand, before pushing her right hip out circling it from the front to the side. She lets her hands drop back down.
“How you can take an honest girl and turn her to a”
Her facial expression turns more cocky. Her left hand goes down the side of her body onto her left thigh while she moves down to an almost squat position. Her right hand comes up from her chest to her neck at the end of the line where the singer lets out a gasp.
Turn her to a WHAT? Explain Lim Jiho! Into a what exactly?!
Stan twitter of course went crazy at the sight of their tomboyish, innocent girl choreographing such a seductive dance. Besides those two lines, most of the dance was just her usual boyish hip-hop style. But the whole vibe of the song, along with her facial expressions had caused such beautiful chaos. Also JiHo in those sweatpants and a sports bra/crop top was something NCTzens weren’t ready for yet.
[Weekly Idol ep 410]
This is probably my favourite JiHo moment ever. For a bit of context. The people sitting down on pillows have to come forward for the members they want to be partnered with and show their charm. After everyone has “seduced” the sitting member, they must close their eyes and if their rose gets picked they are partnered up.
The reason I like this so much is because JiHo was already pouty since Doyoung and Yuta were both seducers as well so there was no chance of partnering with them, but she really wanted to team up with either of them.
After Mark danced to ‘Pick Me’ (and JiHo did everything in her power not to cringe, she failed), he turned around to see which members would come over. When he turned around he saw 4 faces. Those of Doyoung, Jaehyun, Yuta and JiHo. The last two he didn’t expect to come.
One by one they all had to explain why they picked Mark. “Dude, honestly I just don’t want to be picked last.” The girl said in English sending Mark into a fit of laughter. They than had to show show their charm through singing, dancing or acting cute. Once it was Doyoung’s turn, he started dancing to ‘Pick Me’, just like Mark did earlier. “Oppa! I wanted to do that.” She said annoyed to which Doyoung looked shocked. “You were going to dance to a girl group song?” She just rolled her eyes.
Once it was her turn the host had encouraged her to dance to ‘Pick Me’ like she initially planned. “If you do it better than Doyoung, you will have a better chance.” One of the boys had reasoned, that was enough for JiHo to stand up.
She patted down her sweater before getting “in the zone” and she started dancing and singing the song as if it was her own. Some of the boys started cringing at the unfamiliar sight of their female member acting girly and cute, willingly. Then the camera shows Yuta and Jungwoo who were clearly enjoying the show and Taeil smiling fondly as well.
omg this is peak Geo behaviour <3 How is she this cute? Is she really a member of a mostly male group?
Cut to JiHo getting rejected right after Doyoung gets rejected. They sit back next to Johnny, the girl’s head resting on Doyoung’s shoulder. “I guess dancing to that song wasn’t the way to go.” She sighed.
This time it’s Jungwoo’s time to choose a member. He danced to ‘Havana’ to which everyone joins in. Once seated it’s time to start the next round. When Jungwoo faced the group again everyone, including JiHo has come forward.
Johnny danced and Jaehyun and Doyoung sang for Jungwoo, then it’s the girl’s turn. “JiHo! Aegyo!” Haechan yelled and before she can say anything, Yuta agrees. She looks at Jungwoo with a sigh. “Oh it doesn’t look like JiHo really wants to team up with Jungwoo.” Doyoung teased. JiHo quickly dismissed his claim, poking his side which had him twitch.
“Oppa... I think we could make a really good team.” She said with her face rested in her hands. Than she points at her heart. “It would really hurt right here if you reject me.” At the end of her sentence she stands up and throws her rose away. Everyone is dying from laughter or second hand embarrassment. The girl takes a few deep breaths to calm down and she sits back down.
ngl even though that was very cringy, how is JiHo this good at aegyo? I’m sure Jaemin would love it...
They have to make eye contact with the Jungwoo now and once it’s JiHo’s turn she locks eyes with him with ease. Her eyes never faltering which intimidates Jungwoo a bit. “JiHo, you’re supposed to make a connection, not scare him away.” She swats Doyoung’s arm at his remark.
Guess what. Our poor girl was rejected once again
JiHo stands up with her cushion and walks back behind the line. “I danced for you!” She points at Mark. “I acted cute for you!” She points at Jungwoo. “And this is what I get?” The girl actually looks a little agitated which prompted in Jungwoo hugging her and apologising, but she pushes him away. “Whoever my partner is, he and I will end your team.” She threatened while raising her brow. But she only manages to look cute, because she still has a pout very evident on her lips. The tall boy cooed at her and patted her head before walking back to his chair.
Finally Taeyong takes his place on the seat. Once he turned around he could only see Jaehyun and Doyoung sitting back at the line, making a heart with their arms together. A look of despair washed over his face for a quick second before he realises JiHo wasn’t there anymore.
“Where’s JiHo?” He asked and the boys motioned him to turn around once again. When he does he finds JiHo holding her hands up in a heart above her head. “I’ve been rejected twice by those men there.” She points towards Jungwoo and Mark. “And now Doyoung has betrayed me as well. So please be my partner.” Her tone is slightly sad and Taeyong nods and pulls her into a hug.
My heart! :’( She wanted to be in a team with Doyoung from the start, how could he betray JiHo like that!
“Let’s win this!” JiHo yelled, a smile finally finding it’s way back on her face after she found a partner.
That was all for today’s video! Thank you so much for watching!
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Side Note: This post is inspired by a post by @nct-aria. They’re an amazing NCT addition blog, which I definitely recommend you check out.
#jiho.video#nct 24th member#nct addition#nct fluff#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct female member#nct extra member#nct additional member#kpop!addition#kpop!oc
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Common Language, pt. I
(This is the beginning to a bunch of Fallout 3 works I have knocking around my brain. I’ll post bits and pieces here and then post the full work to ao3 once it’s done)
(pt. I) / (pt. II)
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Charon realises very quickly that he does not understand his new employer very well.
In the first instance, this is very literal.
Not many words were exchanged during her introduction as his new employer and him subsequently blowing Ahzrukhal’s brains all over the walls of the Ninth Circle. It’s not until after they make a very rapid exit and they are out in the quiet of the museum atrium catching their breath that he really pays any attention to her. Not much about his employer’s appearance immediately seems wildly unusual – she looks pretty healthy for a wastelander, if somewhat pale, and probably one of the youngest people to come through Underworld in several years. Her face is grubby with the expected dust and dirt of travel under her mop of short curly brown hair, slightly pink from sunburn across her nose and a clean strip of pallid skin around her eyes from the goggles that now hang around her neck (the look of it reminds him briefly of some small animal from before the war, though he can no longer recall its name). Although they look relatively well maintained, her armour and rifle have clearly been scavenged at least third-hand, and a faded red bandanna is tucked around the collar.
Charon takes all this in with a practiced eye, trying to evaluate what kind of person he is now bound to – as satisfying as it is to know that Ahzrukhal’s head is now spread all over the Ninth Circle, it has come at the cost of knowing his opponent. The girl in front of him does not look wealthy to be spending the number of caps he knows Ahzrukhal would have asked for his contract, nor hardened enough to have carried out whatever unscrupulous task he would have accepted as alternative payment. He can’t quite pinpoint it, but something doesn’t seem right. When she opens her mouth, his instincts are proved right.
“Well, fuck. I came to Underworld to cop a flop and a sling and hang loose for a while, maybe zee out for the night, and buddy up with you. I was not expecting to have to beat feet with a dead body behind us.”
Her accent is like no wastelander he has ever heard, and he doesn’t understand half the things that come out of her mouth. Charon can’t claim to be up to date with young people (as so few of them come through Underworld and most of Ahzrukhal’s associates were people who should absolutely not be allowed anywhere near children) but even among the various communities in the Capitol Wasteland there is usually a fair amount of common ground. This – whatever this is – is something else entirely.
His well-practiced poker face seems to keep his confusion hidden at least up until she turns to him with an uncomfortable smile on her face – she certainly has cleaner teeth than a lot of wastelanders, and not even any missing that he can see – and sticks her hand out in his direction.
“This isn’t how I was expecting to have this go but, uh, I’m Billie. Nice to actually meet you properly, Charon.”
He stares at it. A lot of people would avoid unnecessary physical contact with ghouls, even if they weren’t outright ghoul haters, and certainly none of his previous employers have ever tried to engage in something as cordial as a handshake. When he doesn’t react, she leans in a little sheepishly. “…I think you’re supposed to shake hands when you meet someone new, right?”
His stare moves up to her face. She looks about as confused as he feels. What rock has this kid crawled out from?
“What?” It’s hardly the first thing that he means to say to his new employer now they have time to talk, but this whole interaction is leaving him feeling entirely unfooted. She tilts her head at him and looks even more awkward, her outstretched hand dipping slightly before she withdraws it entirely and starts to comb it through her hair instead.
“Uh…I’m not used to meeting new folks? A couple of people have told me what passes for manners above ground but honestly, I’ve not had so many chances to try it on people who weren’t trying to vent me first.” Her face twists in an embarrassed grimace. “Is it the accent? I’ve been told it’s a little hard to understand. I can try, uh something else,” She drops her hand, brushes some stray curls out of her eyes and clears her throat. She offers her hand again and manages to take him by surprise yet again: saying clearly in an almost perfectly pronounced pre-war Transatlantic accent “Hello Charon, my name is Billie Morgan. Pleased to meet you.”
The sound hits Charon like ice cold lead in his stomach, a noise he hasn’t heard in decades beyond the occasional old holotape. It rings in his ears as fresh as it was then with all of the other memories he’d tried to bury - the cloying surgical smell of the lab in his nose, the claustrophobia of the sim pod – Scanning vitals… Welcome subject: 2875, identifier Charon. Beginning training simulation in 3, 2…
A hand touches his arm and the tension in his body spikes – Charon finds himself staggering backwards into a defensive stance. His hand, still moving on instinct, gets as far as the handle of his combat knife before his conditioning kicks in with a short shock of pain – the subject cannot harm the employer – and the opposing reactions form a strained stalemate and force him to a standstill, buzzing with adrenaline, as his presence of mind returns. His employer is now a few feet away, her brown eyes wide as she raises her hands.
“Woah, okay. Won’t do that one again. Sorry.” The artificial enunciation is gone and her original accent has returned, but she is speaking more slowly and clearly than before. He can’t tell if she’s just doing it to try and pacify him or if she is consciously trying to make herself easier to understand. Now that he has the frame of reference for it her natural inflection definitely has something pre-war about it, but it’s hard to pinpoint. “Easy there, big guy. I’ve got no scrap with you and I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay?”
Charon has at least a full foot of height on this kid, and while she looks healthy she does not look strong – the idea that she would be able to hurt him in a close quarters fight is almost laughable. Slowly, he forces himself to let go of the knife handle. The tension in his shoulders stays where it is.
“I am unable to harm my employer. Physical violence on your part invalidates our contract.” The default line gives him something to fall back on for a moment while he straightens back up to his resting position.
“That’s…something.” She doesn’t look reassured, but she drops her hands. “So we’re shiny? Cause you looked real ready to stab me for a second there.”
“I am unable to harm my employer.”
“…Right.” She appears to wait a moment for clarification that does not come before continuing. “So about your contract – it’s kinda hard to read and I didn’t really get the full shakedown before you greased Ahzrukhal so I don’t know what your rates are. I’m a little low on caps at the moment but I can pay you some upfront and then I can earn a bunch back from whatever scavving we do in the next few days to get you the rest of your cut, then we can work out an arrangement. Sound okay to you?”
“I do not require payment.”
“So what, I keep you watered and fed and breathing and we’re square? Seems like a pretty cheap deal to me.”
“I do not require protection and you are not required to provide for me, though several previous employers have chosen to do so.”
“Wait.” Her brow creases. “What does the contract say?”
“The holder of my contract is my employer.” The words come readily to his tongue after many decades of repeating them. “My employer has my services in combat and in any other duties as they see fit and I am honour bound to do as they command for as long as they hold the contract. The contract prevents me from harming my employer while I am in their service. Physical violence by the employer against me invalidates the contract.”
She stares at him hard for a long moment before she speaks again with horror in her voice.
“You’re a slave?”
“I belong to no one.” The response is automatic, the only protest he is able to make. The words taste sour in his mouth.
“You’ve just told me that you don’t require payment of any kind and that you have to do what I say. If that’s not being a slave, I don’t know what is.” She turns away and pulls on her curls for a moment while she paces before turning back to him, her face stormy. “If I’d know that skeezer was a slave owner on top of everything, I might’ve taken a pop at him myself before you ventilated his face. Fuck.” Her eyes widen again. “I bought you from him.”
“If you find the terms of my contract objectionable, you may pass it on to another.”
“I object to you being bound to the contract. Passing it over to someone else doesn’t fix that.” Pulling a face, she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, then pulls his contract out of her pocket. She looks over the worn paper for a moment, then a takes a single step closer to him and thrusts it in his direction. “Here.”
The ebbing tide of the adrenaline rush in his veins suddenly leaves all at once, and he is left staring at his employer’s hand again. There must a misunderstanding here. Again.
“You wish me to…hold the contract for you?”
She rolls her lips together before making deliberate eye contact with him.
“I want you to have it. Permanently, free of charge. The contract belongs to you - no more employers to boss you around.” Turning her eyes skyward for a moment, she takes a deep breath. “I’m hoping that greasing former employers of yours isn’t like a tradition or something, cause I kinda like being alive out here in the fresh air despite everything. And I have someone I really, really need to find.”
He stares at her for a long moment, stupefied. She stares back, with an expression that is perhaps supposed to be comforting despite the fact that her hand is shaking slightly. After the events at the Ninth Circle, she doesn’t have much reason to suspect that anything else will happen apart from her apart from the inside of her skull being spread all over the atrium.
“I cannot accept.”
At the sound of his voice she seems a little calmer, and gives him a warmer smile.
“Sure you can. No charge, no nothing, just like I s-”
“You misunderstand. I am physically not able to accept.”
“What?” The look of confusion is back.
“I am not able to hold my own contract. It is stated clearly in the contract terms.”
“You didn’t say that thirty seconds ago!”
“The contract terms are long. I paraphrased.”
“You paraphrased.” With a furrowed brow she pinches the bridge of her nose again with the hand holding the contract dropping to her hip, though her mouth pulls up at the corner – whether it’s from amusement or concealed frustration, he’s not sure. She takes in a breath, then drops her hand. “Right. Okay. And if I destroy the contract?”
“I am compelled to stop you from doing so, through any means necessary.”
“Even if you harm me? I thought you said you couldn’t do that.”
“Preservation of the contract takes priority over the life of my employer, though I must also take all possible actions to preserve your life.” Comforting people is not a talent Charon considers to be in his skill set. From the look on his employer’s face, he evaluates that this is still true.
“There must be a section in the contract for how it ends though, right? Surely no contract is gonna be able to hold you forever.” The naivety of the comment grates on his nerves more than he expects. Maybe it’s the aftermath of the adrenaline rush and the bewilderingly abrupt turn that this already baffling interaction has taken, but Charon’s response come out with more of a bite than he means it to.
“It’s not that simple, smoothskin.”
“But you don’t want to be bound by it, right?” Seemingly undeterred by the epithet or the warning in his tone, she continues earnestly. “If we just-”
“I said -” His voice is sharper than he would ever dared let it be speaking back to Ahzrukhal, louder than he has spoken in so very long, and he wrests control of himself back too late – his voice echoes back to him from the polished granite walls so that it rebukes him as much as it does the kid in front of him. Her eyes are wide, shoulders bunched up to her chin level, and he realises that he has unconsciously drawn up to his full height. The echo hangs in the air for a moment, and when it dies his words are back to their normal volume, even if the tone is strained: “ – it is not that simple.”
The moment continues to stretch out thin and the young woman doesn’t move or answer – just keeps staring at him. The silence leaves him feeling as unbalanced as the conversation did - worse now that he feels exposed in the wake of his outburst. Charon takes a rattly breath and fills his ravaged lungs to their full extent as he winds himself back under control – shoulders down, arms by his sides, he reverts to his typical guarding stance. When he speaks again, it in the direction of the young woman’s clenched hand rather than to her face
“For good or ill,” Charon says towards the faded scrap of parchment “I am in your service.”
#fallout 3#fo3#charon fo3#lone wanderer#oc: billie morgan/hundred dollar bills (lone wanderer)#very excited to start getting this out there#nom writes stuff#common language
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you’re always golden to me
post-mockingjay / pre-epilogue everlark healing together, appreciating the sunset, and maybe even falling in love
"We should head back before it gets dark." Peeta's words rang out in the open air between them, but they were not enough to pull Katniss from her trance-like state.
It had been a rough day. Not enough so to be classified as a bad day, seeing as Katniss had found the motivation to move from the bed to the couch at some point in the afternoon. Now, though, watching the clouds paint watercolors in the sky seemed to bring her back to life. She was encapsulated by the sight.
"Not yet," she eventually spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse from not using it for a while. "I want to stay until it's over. Besides, we could walk home blindfolded from here."
It was true. Katniss had discovered the hill nestled in the woods behind Victor's Village not long after returning from the Capitol. She found solace in being embraced by the wilderness rather than being suffocated in her old home, so when she accidentally stumbled upon the tall mount that overlooked the wide plains and open sky, she knew she had found what she had subconsciously been searching for.
It had taken a few months before she brought Peeta to her secret spot. He'd only returned to District 12 a few days before she had found the hill, and they both needed some time to warm up to each other again. But one day, after suffering through a particularly vivid flashback that ended with him handcuffed to one of Haymitch's spare cages for his geese, Katniss figured it would do them both good to escape into the forest for a while.
That was the first night they watched the sunset from the hill. It had been slightly uncomfortable, sitting inches apart on the dewy grass, no attempt at conversation made by either party. Eventually, Peeta suggested they return home to make dinner before it got too late, but Katniss insisted that she could tell by the shape of the clouds that they would put on an impressive show.
As usual, she was not wrong.
It was the most vibrant spectacle either of them had seen - far more breathtaking than any Capitol party or fireworks display. Sure, they had both watched the sun go down in 12 before, but their view had always been clouded by the thick layer of dust in the air from the mines or obstructed by the cluster of buildings stacked practically on top of one another. Here on their hill, nothing stood between them and the sky. Beyond that, the best part was they got to share it together, just the two of them.
Since that night, the pair made an effort to hike the two-mile trek to the hill at least once a week, though they typically found themselves there more often than that. Katniss still liked to visit the spot alone, sometimes using the safe space to speak aloud to Prim or Finnick and imagine what they would say back. Other times she just enjoyed the silence.
Peeta, too, ventured to the hill a few times by himself. He had tried on several occasions to paint the landscape, and while he was able to perfect the morning glow and mid-afternoon sun, he couldn't capture the colors of nightfall that he most desired to paint.
Despite the significance that the holy ground held for each of them individually, neither one could deny that they preferred to visit the hill together. Katniss had been unofficially living with Peeta for weeks now, and they even shared a bed most nights, but there was a different breed of intimacy that came with being in the woods, nestled in their own little corner of the universe.
"Fine," Peeta sighed contentedly, breaking the silence again. "We can stay as long as you'd like." With that, he leaned toward the picnic basket they had brought and reached in, shoving aside the empty containers that once held a selection of berries, cheeses, and breads to reveal a neatly folded fleece blanket he had stashed in the bottom. "I came prepared," he announced with a sense of pride.
Katniss briefly pulled her gaze from the view for the first time since the sun had begun its descent to offer Peeta a small smile of gratitude. The gesture warmed his heart with the blaze of ten thousand sunsets.
Taking care to wrap the soft cover around their legs, Peeta pulled the fabric up to their chests and then eased his back to the ground until he was laying horizontal on the hill. Katniss followed suit so they were both engulfed by the blanket.
Their new angle only served to better showcase the colors stretching endlessly above them. One hue in particular transported Katniss back to a seemingly ancient memory of the two of them.
"Orange. Muted... like a sunset." Katniss didn't break her eye contact with the sky but smirked to herself as she spoke.
Peeta nudged her shoulder playfully in response, easily picking up on what she was referring to. Their conversation on the train about favorite colors was one of the first to come back to him after he had been rescued from the Capitol. Shifting slightly toward Katniss, he reached out and twisted his finger gently around a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. "You're so poetic when you quote me," he mused sarcastically.
"Well, your choice of favorite color is much more poetic than Effie’s choice of wig," she quipped. It was ironic how some of her and Peeta's best conversations had happened in the midst of some of the worst times of their lives. And yet, there they were: safe and relatively happy, just two kids trying to piece themselves back together with some pastel paints, cheese buns, and hidden hills. It may not have been anything profound, but it was living, and Katniss figured that, for time being, that would be enough.
She inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the moment. They had reached the peak of the sunset when every particle in the air seemed to glisten from the giant star's final attempt to remain on the topside of the world. There was only one word to describe it.
"Everything is golden."
And, for an instant, it was.
But as the sun succumbed to the pull of dusk, the raging reds and oranges that had scorched the sky swiftly turned to delicate pinks and purples, paving the way for the black of night.
It was then that Katniss realized Peeta had been uncharacteristically quiet, his sunset commentary usually being much more prolific than hers. When she turned her head to the left to face him, she found he was already staring back at her, still toying with her hair. His deep blue eyes twinkled like he knew a secret and was about to let her in on it.
When they first met, that kind of look from Peeta overwhelmed her. Sometimes Katniss would catch him staring at her like she carried the world in her hands, or spun threads of gold with her words. It puzzled her, annoyed her, and at times even enraged her. But after his hijacking, it had been so rare for that young, innocent Peeta to reappear and give her that look which spelled out his love for her so plainly on his face, and she had grown to cherish it.
"I change my mind." For the third time that night, Peeta's voice sliced open the veil of silence that covered them.
Katniss abruptly rose to a sitting position, an expression of confusion clouding her face as she leaned over Peeta's resting form. "What do you mean?"
"I change my mind," He repeated calmly, shrugging as if the answer to her question was obvious. "The sunset isn't my favorite shade of orange anymore."
Katniss bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, causing the wrinkles on her forehead to deepen. Peeta could tell she was trying to keep herself from challenging him, so he decided not to torture her any longer.
"You are my favorite shade of orange," he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, easing away the signs of worry that had risen on her face. "You, sitting here with the sun reflecting in your eyes, your skin glowing in the light." He lowered his voice to a whisper and retracted his hand, slowly guiding Katniss's head to rest on his chest so she could hear his heart beating. "The way you make me feel like I'm on fire inside, all the time."
Girl on fire. The words echoed in his mind and, although he did not dare speak them, he internally admitted they rang true. And it was in moments like those, as he held her under the night sky with millions of stars blazing above them, that he saw Katniss burn the brightest.
"Oh, shut up," she exhaled, turning away from him in an attempt to conceal the blush that had overtaken her smiling face, but Peeta didn't have to see it to know it was there. "You're so cheesy."
"Hey now," he feigned a hurt expression, "I thought you liked my cheese."
Katniss couldn't hide her outburst at his nonsense and they both fell into a fit of laughter together. They hadn't spoken much about what exactly their relationship status was at the moment, hesitant to put labels on anything, but he still wanted her to know how he felt about her. And while Katniss had never been proficient in using her words to convey her love, the way that she clung to Peeta, burying her head in his arm while gasping to regain her breath from laughing so hard, told him everything he needed to know.
"Come on, we should really head back before Haymitch gets worried." Peeta attempted once again to persuade Katniss to return home after they had both calmed down. His stomach was beginning to growl - the small rations of their picnic earlier weren't nearly enough to tide over his appetite until morning - and now that the sun had set, he'd much rather snuggle up with Katniss on their couch than on the cold, hard ground. And besides, while he didn't really think their mentor would be waiting up for them, he figured the argument might be enough to persuade her.
"Seeing as it's past 3 p.m., I think it's safe to say that Haymitch is passed out on his couch," Katniss countered, but her actions said otherwise as she began to gather herself up off the ground. Peeta knew she had a soft spot for the old man.
It took them a little over half an hour to walk home, leisurely following the path that their own footprints had created over time. Upon entering the house, Peeta made a beeline to the kitchen to heat up some leftover stew from the night before. While he ate, Katniss headed to Haymitch's house, opening the unlocked door to find him asleep in his living room as she had predicted. She pried the half-empty bottle from the arm that hung off the couch and set it on a nearby table before turning the lights out and closing his front door behind her.
She had recently made a habit of checking in on her friend, especially during the weeks when Effie travelled back to the Capitol for work. She knew he had done the same for her countless times. Haymitch never seemed to question why he would sometimes wake up with a blanket draped over him or a pillow propped beneath his head, and Katniss didn't plan on bringing it up. Like most things between the two of them, it went unsaid.
Later that evening, tucked under the covers of Peeta's bed - their bed - Katniss felt more at ease than she did most nights. Maybe it was the serenity of the particularly striking sunset, or maybe it was Peeta's roundabout confession of the feelings he still had for her. Either way, she was pleasantly content.
On the other side of the mattress, as Peeta danced on the cusp of sleep, his mind dragged him back to something Katniss had said on the hill. Everything is golden. He knew what she meant; that the landscape had been blanketed by the radiance of the sunset. But he felt it was true in another sense, and that maybe this new phrase was an even more appropriate way to describe the true essence of Katniss Everdeen.
Before drifting off herself, Katniss heard Peeta mumble one last line of admiration, causing her to fall asleep with a smile ingrained on her lips.
"You're always golden to me."
#the hunger games#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#everlark#katniss and peeta#one shot#haymitch abernathy#effie trinket#catching fire#mockingjay#thg#hunger games#everlark fic#everlark fanfiction#everlark drabble#thg fanfic#drabble#primrose everdeen#finnick odair
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Sunday Stumped Day 32
It’s another Sunday Stumped Day!
Sometimes we straight out get stumped. So every few months we will pick a Sunday when we’ll post of a list of asks that we need your help on.
If you know the answer to any of these asks please shoot us a message/ ask/ with the Post number and the fic details and we’ll add it and give you a shout out with our thanks. Any links you can provide will also be super helpful.
Thanks!
Post 1 , Post 2 , Post 3, Post 4, Post 5, Post 6, Post 7, Post 8, Post 9, Post 10, Post 11, Post 12, Post 13, Post 14, Post 15, Post 16, Post 17, Post 18, Post 19, Post 20, Post 21, Post 22 , Post 23, Post 24, Post 25, Post 26, Post 27, Post 28, Post 29 , Post 30, and Post 31 can be found here - and there are still fics we need your help with.
551. liahnel said to everlarkficquestions:
Hi, I'm trying to find an old fic. It took place while Peeta and Katniss were both in 13. Katniss had to pretend to be in love with Gale instead for the rebellion. She had to do scripts with him but she wanted Peeta. I can't remember anything else. I hope you guys can help!
FOUND! All the World’s a Stage - Abagail_Snow (Thanks, @oakfarmer12 and @kiinghanalister!)
552. weepingmilkshakesandwich said to everlarkficquestions:
You're literally an angel for taking the time to put together and maintain this! Are there any fics where Katniss introduces Peeta to her friends or family?
553. oakfarmer12 said to everlarkficquestions:
Hey, I’m looking for a post mockingjay story where Peeta has lost his memory. I think at one point he assumes Haymitch is her father. I don’t think he gets his memory back in the story. But he falls in love with her all over again really fast. Thank you for any help!
oakfarmer12 said:
Hi! Is it possible to expand my description of the #553 fic? Peeta comes back to 12 and sees ‘a girl with a dark braid’ (or something to that effect). She gets upset at seeing him, and he is immediately like ‘oh no, I need to comfort her!’ and I think he starts bringing her bread.
FOUND! Lost - NurturingSilence (Thank you, @eggplant8!)
554. carousallie said to everlarkficquestions:
I’m trying to find a fic to no avail. Peeta is Annie’s therapist in modern times and the hunger games are her delusions/dreams and I don’t remember much else but I’m desperately looking for it.
555. weepingmilkshakesandwich said to everlarkficquestions:
Any fics where K or P has a ptsd or panic attack or something like that in public, and the other one comforts them and everyone else is shocked?
Girls In White Dresses by Dracoisalooker76
Where the World Ends. - jennajuicebox (*Thank you, @hope4hea!)
556. petbaile-blog said to everlarkficquestions:
Hi I’m looking for a story about katniss and peeta I only remember bits and pieces of it but they get back from their first games and katniss confesses her love for peeta. And peeta brothers is alive and katniss get reaped alone to go into the quarter quell, while peeta in district 12 watching. And at the end she destroys the arena and is burned and ends up in district 13.
FOUND! By Your Side - geekymoviemom
557. writerreaderbeliever said to everlarkficquestions:
Hey ! First, thanks for your work! I am looking for a fic : It is post-mockingjay. Katniss and Peeta are together and just had a kid. Katniss has to go to the Capitol (I can't remember why) and Gale thinks Peeta is abusing her and sends Peacekeeper to their home.
558. its-hopeless-romantic said to everlarkficquestions:
Hey, are there any everlark fics that involve skydiving?
559. 19fundiesandcounting said to everlarkficquestions:
Hi, I’m looking for a one shot where Peeta has a dream that he’s still in the Capital being tortured and when he wakes up he realizes he killed Katniss while having the dream.
560. severelymaximumllama said to everlarkficquestions:
Do you know a fic (one shot) where Peeta is a pilot and makes a Christmas tree with his jet (and a little help of his fellows). Thanks and Happy Holidays!
FOUND! Lighting the tree - maxwellandlovelace (Thank you, @jennagill!)
561. everlark30 said to everlarkficquestions:
Hi you guys are so AMAZING!!!! I was wondering if there are any fics about Peeta knowing any kind of martial arts?
562. ochri said to everlarkficquestions:
Hi I was wondering if you could try to help find this fanfiction. It was originally on fanfiction.net and it was about post MJ peeta and Katniss. In one of the chapters I think it's the anniversary of prim's death and she starts peeling at her fingers and Peeta carries her to the hospital. Sorry that's the only thing I can rly remember. Thanks in advance!!
563. mrspeetamellark said to everlarkficquestions:
I’m looking for a fic where Katniss is a dentist and Peeta is under anesthesia and confesses his attraction to her. Thank you 😊
FOUND!
ficlet by atetheredmind (Thank you, @allie-rose!)
Do any of these fics ring a bell? Please let us know!
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Rewatching The Hunger Games series
So I saw The Hunger Games quadrilogy after roughly a year or so. Its a series that I genuinely enjoy for the most part. When the first movie came out, I had gone because the critical reception had been so positive that I got interested in the film. After the film, I bought and read all three books before Catching Fire came out. This series was the peak of the young adult book adaptation era and was definitely the highest quality of those, even though that isn’t saying much because majority of the adaptations were pretty poor.
When it comes to the movies, the first two especially are damn good. Gary Ross deserves more credit than he gets for the success of this series because he puts the essential pieces in place. He got critical casting choices right on the money with Jennifer Lawrence, Donald Sutherland, Woody Harrelson, Stanley Tucci, and Elizabeth Banks being the highlights. The shaky cam technique becomes a little much but it does lend to the gritty feeling of the movie. The film managed to strike the right balance of showing the morbidity of this world but also giving some excitement and entertainment by contrasting it with some truly bright and energetic visuals and characters, lending to the social commentary of the class differences in this world.
Catching Fire was even better. Clearly, you could tell that the movie got a major upgrade. Francis Lawrence brought a much steadier and cleaner visual technique. I think the expansion of the world and the ensemble cast works in its favor The returning cast were all excellent but the new additions of Sam Claflin, Jena Malone, Jeffrey Wright, and Seymour Hoffman worked wonders. I liked that Lawrence aptly captured the horror of the arena. The poison fog sequence in particular is quite horrifying. The film is kinetic and much more fast paced. It gives a lot more texture to the things going in this world.
The last two movies are inferior in comparison. Part of that has to do with the source material and part of that has to do with the decision to split the book into two. I do think Mockingjay is the weakest book of the three. Unfortunately Katniss becomes far too reactionary a character in the book. While that may be realistic as a teenager in a war scenario, it doesn’t make for very interesting reading when you are following her POV in the book and in the movie. Fundamentally I am ok with splitting a final book where its warranted. I feel it definitely worked in Harry Potter, but it doesn’t quite work here. In Mockingjay Part 1, you can feel the film trying to fill empty space. Also, with the film almost entirely set in underground bunkers, there isn’t much visual color as entertainment as well compared to the previous film. The film also just doesn’t have a climax that packs a punch. The cliffhanger is handled well but the climax leading to the cliffhanger is fairly dull and again, the main character is never in any real danger throughout the film.
Part 2 is slightly better but its about as bleak a conclusion to a series that I have seen. It definitely has way more in terms of action. But there is almost no humor in the movie with Effie and Haymitch, the main sources of humor from Part 1, are largely absent. Again, the issues of the book kind of affect the movie as well. Katniss’ mission throughout the movie has no impact on the eventual outcome as she fails to actually accomplish her mission. So the whole mission of her and the team fighting their way into the Capitol feels a little pointless from a narrative standpoint. But it does have a lot more momentum than Part 1. Certainly, the mutt attack sequence is pretty terrifying and the film does earn its ending.
Similar to Harry Potter, one of this franchise’s biggest strengths is casting. I didn’t know much about Jennifer Lawrence prior to the first movie, so she pretty much blew me away and she continued to sustain that level of performance throughout. She’s obviously playing the character a little older than the book version but it really works and she carries the franchise effortlessly. The casting masterstroke of the franchise for me was Donald Sutherland. Reading the books, I honestly can’t think of a better casting decision for the role. He’s perfect as the brilliant snakelike devil of a man. He’s a scene stealer throughout. Woody Harrelson as Haymitch is fantastic. He brings a lot of humor to the table. He is really missed when his role gets reduced in the last couple of films. Elizabeth Banks as Effie is the one major upgrade from book to movie. By giving Effie a much more rounded and sympathetic character arc and having her being a part of the overall story in Mockingjay, the performance and the character shines a lot more. Banks is terrific. Adding heart and humor when required. Josh Hutcherson wasn’t exactly whom I thought when I think of Peeta but he grew into the role really well. I think he improved with every movie and he was pretty fantastic in Mockingjay Part 2. Liam Hemsworth was one who I felt was just ok. To be fair to him, he really doesn’t have to do much other than look good and then pine for Katniss. Sam Claflin and Jena Malone lit up the screen in Catching Fire. Its a pity they don’t get all that much to do in subsequent films though they do get a handful of good scenes there too. Hoffman as Plutarch was a good screen partner for Sutherland and later for Moore. Moore herself came in and delivered really well as President Coin. There was also a nice performance by Maharshala Ali as Boggs. Lenny Kravitz as Cinna was another welcome addition in the first two films. Overall, it was a good pack of actors who were really giving it their all that made the series work as well as it did.
#the hunger games#catching fire#mockingjay#jennifer lawrence#josh hutcherson#donald sutherland#woody harrelson#liam hemsworth#elizabeth banks
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— untitled ii.
playlist | masterlist
summary: once dear friends in college, obi-wan and (y/n) have bumped into each other in the capitol city of coruscant while both working there. will they rekindle their old romance from their college years, or will they remain as passing faces in each other’s lives? takes place in college years and 10+ years after.
a/n: fluff AND MORE ANGST awaits you in this chapter! also some good music references await you as well😌 also, just to note, i am a slut for obi-wan and his beard, so yes, he does have a bit of a beard in his college years, i do not accept any slander for this creative decision bc you can’t deny how hot the man is with a beard. also, not as much college content, but there will be more in part three! i hope you all enjoy! please reblog if you like this enough to do so, i appreciate it more than words can say! i love you all☺️ warnings! a few swear words!
word count: 3.7k words
present.
“AUNTIE (Y/N)!”
You could hear the chorus of the screaming twins from your car, a smile beginning to inch its way across your lips, despite the heavy weight of a decade of old baggage weighing down on you more and more throughout the day. At least now you would be able to bask in some temporary, if not chaotic, joy brought by Luke and Leia.
The blonde and brunette came skidding up to your knees, running so quickly they almost knocked you over. You laughed openly, bending down to let the two envelope themselves around you. Luke crawled up on you back, asking politely for a piggy back ride into the house, while Leia simply just crawled up on you, wrapping her legs around you waist and holding onto your shoulders, despite the fact that you were carrying your very large purse. You just hoped you didn’t drop it - after all, it did have your datapad in it, and you did not want to break that thing.
“Auntie (Y/N), have you been crying?”
Leia was never one to shy away from the facts. That five year old would be the end of you.
While Leia looked at you quizzically, Luke stroked your hair with his little hands. “Are you sad, auntie? We can eat your favorite chocolate if that will make you not sad anymore. I don’t want you to be sad.” And that five year old would probably make you cry again, his sweet natured personality always shining through.
“Whose crying? No crying, we’re all fine!”
Anakin came rushing through the dining area from the kitchen to the front door where you stood with the twins still clinging to your body, and he nearly slipped and fell on his face as he ran too quickly with socks on the wood floor.
Luke and Leia giggled as he stumbled and caught himself before the both crawled off of you, now attempting to tackle their father.
“No, no, no wrestling right now, guys!”
Now it was you who could not hold back a small snicker, watching the poor father be smothered by his two children. It took him a moment to pry them off his legs.
Anakin leaned against the archway leading into the kitchen attempting to catch his breath as he laughed. “I’m not even going to apologize for the twins because I’m pretty sure you and I were the same way.”
You set your bag down on the bench by the door, shrugging your blazer off. “I don’t know, I think the twins are at least open with one another.”
Music from the 70s played in the background from C-3PO’s portable extension speaker. Anakin looked confused, coming up to rest a hand on your shoulder. “What are you talking about? We tell each other everything, we— oh. Oh no.”
Now, granted, Anakin had thought that keeping Obi-Wan’s return a secret was a good idea. Initially. He now realizes he was so wrong as he looks at the deadly expression on your face, the way your eyebrows are arched, the way you clench and unclench your fists and then shake them as if attempting to shake off your emotions, but he sees you slipping.
You’re going to kick his ass and he knows it.
Damn, I knew I should have told Padmé and asked for her advice. Anakin thought as ‘Does Your Mother Know’ by ABBA began to blast through the speaker in the kitchen.
“You better start running, Skywalker.”
“You better start running, Skywalker.”
Anakin whipped around the corner, knowing all too well that he was in some deep kriffing trouble. You were hot on his tail, still in your heels, and you would not let him get away. He, after all, was in socks, and therefore would be more prone to slipping. You, on the other hand, had been challenged by Anakin a few years ago to run in your heels as he believed that it was impossible. He had been wrong then, and he was still wrong now.
You both remembered in that moment chasing each other through your homes back in Tatooine, cracking jokes and waiting to tackle each other or wrestle each other for victory. You were proud to say you often beat Anakin because he was.... well, honestly, he was a weakling when you were young.
Anakin was practically your brother, you were everything to each other, and you felt as if this was a deep betrayal. Anakin knew how broken you had been after your unspeakable breakup with Obi-Wan, but he, being the idiot he was, obviously had kept this tidbit of information to himself.
And for what gain? Did he really think you would allow yourself to fall back into Obi-Wan’s arms? Did he really think everything would go back to the way it was in college, that the four of you would go back to having double-dates, that what? you and Obi-Wan would get married and have children of your own?
What a foolhardy dream that was, and you knew it more than anyone.
Chasing him through the living room, he ran through into the dining room, running around the long table. You caught up just as quickly, grabbing the table and giving it a light shove to knock into him. He stumbled a bit but grabbed the table to ground himself.
“(Y/N), I’m sorry, I should have told you—“
“Sorry?” You said incredulously. You laughed, astounded by your idiot of a best friends stupid response. “Oh, we are past sorry. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You knew what he put me through. You were there, helping pick up the pieces that he left behind. And only now you think it’s a good idea to not tell me he would be waltzing back into our lives?”
Anakin winced at every word, knowing he had royally forked (his vernacular changed after having children) up. Where was Padmé when he needed her to calm you and your fiery temper down?
You grabbed one of your heels and chucked it at his head, knowing he would dodge it, but you still almost wished it would have at least given him a bruise. And of course, he dodged it.
Anakin began running again, this time cutting through the kitchen. “Anakin Skywalker, you get back here!”
Now, you were wondering where the twins had run off to. Surely they would want to see you kick their father’s butt.
Well, the twins had run off to go grab their foam swords once you had begun chasing their father, but had a minor argument about whether or not the swords were in Luke’s room or the playroom (they were actually hidden in the hall closet, I wonder who put them there).
“Aunt (Y/N), here, get him!” Leia yelled at you, throwing you one of the foam swords, while Luke politely handed Anakin the other. “Sorry dad, I’m rooting for Aunt (Y/N).” Luke whispered.
Anakin smiled sadly. “Me too, bud.”
The living room was sunken in, and quite an open space, with divider couches in the center of the area, plenty of space to run around and play in. Perfect for having a set of chaotic twins. And now perfect for a foam sword duel between you and Anakin. ABBA still blasted from the speakers, and it only helped in amping your frustrations.
You stood behind one of the couches, panting heavily as you began to pace in place.
You understood why Anakin had stayed friends with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was the only real male figure in his life, both like a brother and a father, but after they served together in the Republic army it became more apparent that their brotherly bond was something that could transcend lifetimes.
However, had Anakin so quickly forgotten the state you had been left in after discovering Obi-Wan’s relationship with Satine?
You couldn’t think about those memories right now, having already spent all day dwelling on the past, barely getting any work done.
You charged at Anakin, beginning to beat him with your foam sword, and he took it, as he felt he should, feeling the betrayal you felt with each strike. “Would you at least fight back?” You yelled. “This isn’t much of a fight, and your children are watching. Talk about embarrassing, Skywalker.” You breathed heavily, ceasing to beat Anakin as he grabbed the foam blade you had raised, ready to hit him some more.
“I’m not going to fight you, (Y/N/N).”
You paused, looking up into his soft, crystal blue eyes and you began to feel it.
Your tough, anger-filled facade began to crack, Obi-Wan’s memory once again taking a hammer and destroying any mask you would try and force upon yourself to keep anyone from seeing even a sliver of sadness out of you. A singular tear began to slip down your cheek as Anakin cupped your cheek, frowning knowingly, before enveloping you in one of those infamous Skywalker hugs that you knew was a true gift every time you received one. The twins even came up, both of them hugging each of your legs.
“I wish you would have at least let me punch you,” you mumbled into his chest. You could feel his laughter rumbling through his chest, just as you heard the garage door opening.
“Pads must be home,” you sighed, pushing Anakin away as you went to pick up Leia, Luke running to the door. What a momma’s boy.
Padmé looked forever beautiful, even after a day at work. She kicked off her heels and set down her large purse on the bench by the garage door, grinning as she saw Luke running toward him. She was quick to pick the five-year old up, greeting him excitedly.
“And where is your sister?”
“With Auntie (Y/N)!”
Padmé turned the corner to find you holding her daughter, doting on her twin buns and poking her nose, thanking her for ‘the sword’ she had given you.
“What’s this about a sword fight?” Padmé questioned with a raised brow and a smile.
“Mommy! Auntie (Y/N) kicked Daddy’s butt!”
“Yeah! He made her cry!”
Padmé’s eyes flashed with both concern and anger, glaring quickly at Anakin and then casting a soft gaze of concern upon you, reaching out with her free hand to graze your arm affectionately.
“But I’m not really sure why he made her cry... We were too busy grabbing the foam swords.”
Anakin mumbled, “Yeah, I thought I had hidden those after last time...”
“What!” Both of the twins shouted, quickly slipping themselves out of you and Padmé’s arms to go chase their father and tackle him for the 8th time that day.
“Why did Ani make you cry?”
You bit your lip, chewing on it like you used to when you were nervous, an old habit you couldn’t shake in your most anxious days.
“Obi-Wan is back and Anakin knew. He... he didn’t tell me.”
There was nothing more you needed to say, and Padmé grabbed your hand, dragging you back to her room so you could relay all of the details and she could change after a long day in the office. As you relayed the details of literally walking into Obi-Wan and Anakin’s knowledge that he withheld about Kenobi’s return (“Oh, he is going to regret having kept that from me”), Padmé would gasp from the inside of her walk-in closet every once and awhile at what comments you had made as well as Obi-Wan’s attitude that he could make such a return and act as if there were no consequences.
She came back out in more comfortable clothes, a teal oversized-cropped sweatshirt and some grey sweatpants with fuzzy socks seemed to be the comfy-mom fit, paired with a low messy bun. How she managed to still look stunning was beyond you, but Padmé could walk around in a potato sack, and the press would call it a fashion statement that would quickly become the latest trend. She was astounding.
Padmé came and sat down next to you on her and Anakin’s bed, pulling you into a warm hug. You took a shaky breath as the tears finally began to fall. He was breaking you again. And you couldn’t stand the feeling of helplessness that washed over you as your shoulders began to shake. You tried muffling your sobs, but it was so hard to hold back the waters after the dam had already cracked and had begun to flood, rushing through you with memories of a now wished forgotten yesterday.
college years.
You had survived the first few weeks of college thus far and you were more than happy for it.
Of course, you had a few whacky professors (like the one who didn’t understand his students sarcasm, or the one who talked about anything other than the course work), but you had survived your first few sets of midterms, save the last one you had later this afternoon.
You made your way to your favorite place on campus, the small Twin Suns Coffee Bar that was nestled inside the student activity center. It wasn’t a place to sit and chat with friends, more just the basic aspect and aesthetic of a regular Twin Suns, simply a coffee bar there to fuel the students making their way to different classes, jobs or internships.
You strangely loved the busy atmosphere, well, when you yourself weren’t busy, and you had a few hours to fuel up on some coffee and break into a study session before your exam. As you got in line, you enjoyed watching the people rush by, listening to the sound of coffee beans grinding, the soft indie music playing through the speakers.
As you stood, lightly swaying and breathing in the smell of the rich espresso being poured over some milk, you spotted a familiar head of golden hair headed this way.
Obi-Wan had his nose stuck in a book, but he easily maneuvered among the bustling of the people as he would through the student center. You tried waving to get his attention, however it seemed he was to enraptured in whatever he was reading to fully pay attention to his surroundings.
You rolled your eyes and chuckled, he seemed to be like this quite often, or at least, that’s how he seemed whenever you visited his and Anakin’s apartment. Always studying. Anakin tried to convince you that he was the actually amusing individual he described, that he was just busy with his studies as he had some more advanced classes he was taking. Thus far, you were not convinced.
You finally decided to call his name. “Obi-Wan!”
His head shot up in an alert sort-of surprise, and after a moment his eyes finally caught with yours and a small smile crossed his features as he made his way towards you at the back of the line.
“I haven’t seen you in awhile, (Y/N).”
“You saw me last night at your apartment.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right.” He chuckled to himself, ducking his head in embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I’ve been rather busy with my courses this semester.”
“Yes, that’s what Anakin has told me. He talked you up so much as some reckless guy like him, but so far I haven’t seen any proof of such an Obi-Wan. Perhaps you’ve gotten too old.” You said slyly, smirking in just the slightest way, your comment causing him to laugh.
His eyes twinkled down at you, and they seemed to shine in the light from the coffee bar, it seemed almost unfair to be in his presence. He was just too beautiful, those cerulean eyes so captivating and difficult to look away from...
“Too old? Well, after such an insult I suppose I won’t invite you to the little party Anakin and I were going to tonight.” He looked up, feigning to be studying the menu as his lips curved into a cheeky grin, knowing he had caught your attention now.
“A party?” Your eyes snapped to look up at him, your eyes begging him to look down at you. You composed yourself, mimicking his position as you stared at the menu, even though you already knew what you wanted. “Anakin would take me anyways,” you stated nonchalantly, “but would this party mean getting to see you with your nose out of a book for once?”
Obi-Wan turned to face you now, looking down at you with that impish grin still stuck on his face, his dimples peaking out from his beard. “I suppose you’ll have to determine that, my dear.”
A blush began to creep up your neck, and you could feel your face getting hot as you stared into his eyes, refusing to break eye contact.
“Hi, can I take your order?” The impatient barista asked, watching awkwardly as the two of you stared at each other.
Obi-Wan calmly turned to the barista, and ordered a nitro cold brew before turning to you, motioning for you to order as he pulled out his wallet. “Order whatever you’d like, it’s on me today.”
You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying to win me over now by buying me coffee?”
“Well, I at least want to seem interesting, and what’s more interesting than a bit of chivalry in this modern world?”
You couldn’t help but giggle at his comment, trying desperately to look anywhere than his piercing gaze.
“You should take the offer.” The barista said, and you stared at her incredulously, biting your lip and huffing before you begrudgingly ordered your favorite drink.
Obi-Wan walked with you over to the waiting area, grabbing a napkin as soon as you reached it. He pulled a sharpie out from one of the side pockets on his backpack, and then began to scrawl something out on the napkin before handing it to you. His fingers brushed across yours just briefly, but you swore you felt an electrifying tingle shoot up your arm and a warm feeling following.
It had his phone number on it.
“So you can text me later about tonight to let me know if you’re finally ready to get to know me.”
You pointed a finger at him as your eyebrows began to furrow. “Hey, you’re the one whose always too busy whenever I am around.” Now you had him pinned. He was being such a flirt, you almost couldn’t believe his smug attitude, no matter how endearing it felt or how much it made you a little weak in the knees.
“Who said I wouldn’t make time for you?”
You thought you would collapse then and there. Obi-Wan leaned down, whispering in your ear.
“You only had to ask.”
Just then the barista called his name, and his lips were gone, having brushed just lightly against your ear. This was not the Kenobi you had imagined when Anakin had told you all about their grand collegiate adventures.
No, this was so much better.
Obi-Wan handed you your drink, flashing you a smile as he began to walk away, backwards.
“I hope to see you later tonight, darling.”
And then he began to blend back into the crowd, but you could still see remnants of his perfect golden hair moving as he continued to drift from view until you could no longer see him.
“You love him and you never let him go.” The barista behind you said, looking just as charmed by Obi-Wan as you felt.
“Yeah, I will.” You responded, still left in the daze that now seemed to consume you. How were you going to even be able to study for your test now?
present.
After dinner, the twins had pleaded for yet another infamous movie night with Auntie (Y/N). Of course, you caved, even though you could have probably used a night in with a bottle of wine and some tissues for the inevitable onslaught of tears that were to come once you were alone again.
You were just about three-fourths of the way through Finding Nemo when the twins fell asleep, Luke laying on the pillow in your lap and Leia cuddled up against Padmé. You smiled down at Luke, affectionately running your fingers through his hair as he lightly snored. Just like his dad, you thought.
Someone’s phone buzzed, but you didn’t really care, just trying to focus on the movie and not think about the day you had just had. Anakin got up as the phone continued to buzz with text after text. “Uh... It’s for me, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, don’t be too long, I’ll need your help putting the twins to bed soon.”
Padmé turned to look at you, while you continued to watch the Disney movie on the screen, Dory yelling after Marvin after they lost their chance at finding Nemo. You tried focusing on the movie, but after the long, emotional day you had, your thoughts began to slip back to him.
“I look at you and I’m home.”
You tried wiping away the tears, but it was hard to do so with Luke practically sprawled on top of you. Maybe it was time for that bottle of wine.
You pulled Luke off of you, moving his sleepy body right beside Leia’s on top of Padmé. “Are you leaving?” She asked. You nodded your head, watching as Luke nuzzled himself into a comfortable position, cuddling closely to his mother.
“Well, drive safe, and make sure to text Anakin or I when you get home safely. Speaking of, where is he?”
“I’m sure he’s just taking a breath outside or something. I’ll see you later, Pads.”
You wiped away any remaining tears as you stood by the front door, grabbing your purse and blazer. However, as you stood by the door, you heard quiet muffled voices somewhere in the front yard that sounded like they were arguing. Anakin better not be arguing with the neighbors over mowing the lawn again...
You gently opened the front door, trying not to make too much noise not only for the sake of the twins but also so you wouldn’t spook whoever it was who was outside. When you turned around after shutting the door however, the voices stopped.
And standing on the sidewalk next to you car was Obi-Wan.
#star wars#obi wan kenobi#obi wan star wars#obi wan kenobi fanfic#obi wan kenobi x reader#modern obi wan kenobi x reader#modern obi wan#modern star wars#modern!star wars#modern!obi wan#modern obi wan kenobi#modern au#star wars au#untitled#obi wan kenobi au
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Captive ch.5
Find it on AO3!
Growing up in the palace, demons were little more than lore. That was not to be said that demons did not reside in their capitol or populate their villages- small numbers of them did exist. However, these demons were refined, civilized. She had heard the nursery stories of untethered creatures that haunted the night, the stories meant to keep children afraid of the dark and tucked in their bed. It had done its job back then, had frightened her of her own shadow for quite some time. It wasn’t until Kikyo pulled back the thick furs on her bed and climbed under the covers that she felt soothed. Her older sister, even as a young child, seemed so much wiser, so ethereal and flawlessly strong- she brought both comfort and chastisement. She hailed her as silly, without an ounce of common sense in her head.
Yes , demons did exist outside their kingdom, but their walls were sturdy. In all their lives had any force breached them? In all of Papa’s time, did threats ever end up on their doorstep?
“Of course not.” Kikyo said, gently patting Kagome’s hair. “ Besides, should anything happen, I’ll protect you.”
What she would give to be thrust back into the past, her sisters thin arms surrounding her, the danger of the forest- of the real world- shut behind her doors. The only demons to be feared were just bedtime stories. Had Kagome time- any time at all- she would have thought longer on her sister. Fretted over her disappearance, fear twisting her stomach into tight knots as she worried about her safety. As it was, Kagome did not even have time to give her lost sister a passing thought.
Not when a demon charged towards them.
“ Shit ,” The soldier demanded, pushing her behind him. It would look almost gallant, if he were anyone else. Was it an act of selfless service, his years as a soldier, or the fact that she had a price on her head that prompted him to protect her? Whatever the reason, Kagome listened, unprepared and unarmed to defend herself.
“Wh-What is that?” She shook, eyes wide. She took a step in closer without thinking.
The demon that sprang from the woods was unlike any that Princess Kagome had ever seen.
She just hadn’t expected it to be quiet so… fluffy.
It was a passing thought, no more than that. The demon did not give her time to think as its paws hit the ground, claws larger than her hand, digging into the dirt. Its teeth were bared, snapping at the both of them. Kagome stumbled back, eyes wide as the demon's saliva dripped from its mouth, rabid and starved.
To his credit, the hanyou did not so much as flinch as the demon lunged towards them.
“Get back,” He demanded, and for the first time, Kagome was eager to listen to him. He flexed his fingers, his own claws sharp and ready, his other hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Just as he brought his hand back to strike, a cloud of purple mist exploded over them.
The hanyou began to cough, uselessly covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his arm. “Don’t breathe it in!” he warned, each word punctuated with a gasp for air. He struggled to stand upright, knees buckled before he collapsed onto the ground unconscious.
Kagome rushed to him, fell to her knees as she tried to assess the situation. The smoke was bothersome to be sure, but it did not affect her in the same way. The princess tried to think, tried to piece together what was happening.
The smoke- or was it a scent- that only affected demons; it must be something undetectable to the human nose, but lethal to demons. The giant demon that had charged at them had disappeared- Kagome was sure that she would have felt a body that large fall, would have made the ground quake and tremble. It had fled as soon as the purple hues came into focus.
It was with this thought that Kagome had two revelations.
The first was that someone else was out there. Someone had thrown the deterrent, and was lying in wait. The smoke had cleverly rendered her captor useless, but what manner of beast awaited her once she made it clear of the mist?
That was when the second revelation dawned on her. She was free. Should she find her way out alive, she was no longer the hanyou’s prisoner. She could go back home- she’d find a way somehow-
No, straight to the Hojo tribe to fulfill her obligations. To protect her family and her kingdom. To do what Kikyo could not. She would wait until her sister was ready to sell away her fate.
Quickly, she gathered up what was left of her skirts and looked around through the haze. There was a clearing of trees ahead, she was certain of it. If she could just make it there, creep to every trunk she could hide behind, undetected, she could find a way out. d. Kagome looked more like a newborn doe than a princess as she rose to her feet, ungracefully stumbled forward. She sprinted, mind full of fears, heart pumping with adrenaline, and took one final look over her shoulder.
It was a third, and unexpected thing that grinded her to a halt.
She couldn’t leave him.
The soldier- her captor- the man who had caused her nothing but misery since she met him, needed help. He was foul, rude beyond measure, brash and uncouth. He had no respect for royalty- little respect for her it seemed. Yet looking at the unconscious man stirred something inside of Kagome. She was better than that- better than how she was treated. He was vile, but if left on his own, he would no doubt be fodder to whatever lurked behind the mist.
He had saved her once- captured her another. She had thought the two evened themselves out. She wanted to leave him behind, wanted to face forward, run straight ahead until her feet could not carry her a step farther.
And in the moment, she realized she could not bear the burden on her conscious if she left him in such a vulnerable state. Kagome could not live with blood on her hands.
With an anguished sigh, she ran to him, and quickly checked for signs of life. He was breathing- steady, but labored. He needed to get out of the smoke soon; he would not have to wait for the monster in the shadows to eat him, the mist would attack him internally first.
“Get up!” She shook him, his head lolling to the side. “You need to- hurry! Get up!”
“G-G..O…” He mumbled it, tripped on every consonant. A small voice in her head said yes, run. The demon did not want to be saved, leave him and go!
Yet as she watched his chest labor for every breath, she knew it was up to her to save him. To save them both.
Kagome tried to lift him by his shoulders, but found that the dog-demon weighed more than she had expected. He had a broad frame, and logically she knew that he must be muscled, but she had never expected how much. Giving up hope that she could lift him, she settled on grabbing underneath his arms, anchoring on to as much of him as she could. With a prayer, she dragged him forward, his uncooperative body providing little help, as she made their way to the clearing. Kagome coughed, the smoke agitated her throat in an unpleasant way, irritated her eyes until they watered.
“This is unexpected.” A voice called, a slender silhouette in the smoke. “I was told Inuyasha would be alone.”
When the figure finally came into focus, the princess was stunned. It was a woman, beautiful, powerful- and clearly on a mission. The woman had a firmly set jaw- like she was accustomed to having to bite her tongue. A larger figure made its way behind her- the same fluffy demon that had attacked them- now wore what looked to be a mask over its face.
They had worked together, worked in tandem to attack.
When she was close enough that Kagome could make out the details on her suit, Kagome was startled to find she knew it. It bore the marks of a hunter, of a slayer. When the accusation finally caught up with her, Kagome choked out a stunned, “Wh-what?”
The woman smirked as she folded her arms over her chest, clearly aware of her upper hand. “In all my reports, Inuyasha travels solo. I have to say, I’m surprised to find his paramour with him on the road.”
“I-” Kagome looked at the man in her arms. His name was Inuyasha? Had he refused to tell her, or had she refused to ask? “I am not his paramour!” She yelled. “This beast captured me!”
This, it seemed, was humorous enough to make the woman bark out a laugh. “Do you hear that, Kirara?” She turned to look at her counterpart, “She said she is his captive!”
“I am!” Kagome defended.
“Yes, of course.” She laughed dismissively. “Every hostage tries to save their jailor.” She stalked forward, and though Kagome hated it, she took a step back, a step of cowardice. She was supposed to be stronger than this- she was royalty. She should be prepared, should be unafraid to face any danger put in front of her. Taking a deep breath, trying to summon courage she was unsure she had, Kagome straightened her spine and stood her ground.
“I am not his paramour. Take a look at me,” She gestured down to her state of undress, the dirt caked deeply in her clothes, “Who would keep a paramour this unkempt? Who would find my current state appealing?”
The woman tilted her head, considering Kagome's words.
“I have been ambushed and attacked more times than I can count these past few days. My guard was slaughtered by a band of beasts. This-” she jolted Inuyasha’s body to make a point, “man fought them, I thought in an act of protection, but in a cruel turn of fate, only so that he could deliver me elsewhere.”
It was silent for a moment, the slayer sharing glances back and forth with her comrade. “And why would so many people go through such trouble, just to get their hands on you?” She asked.
Kagome thought of her sister. Thought of how Kikyo commanded a room, without even the slightest bit of effort. Kagome knew that if Kikyo were here, that question would not have been needed, would not have been dared to ask. Men threatened to fight wars, just to win Kikyo's hand. A few bandits along the way would have no qualms trying to obtain her.
She thought of her sister, and tried to channel Kikyo as best she could. “My name is Princess Kikyo Higurashi. I was on route to meet my fiance. I am to be married to the Hojo tribe. I am in need of assistance.”
This seemed to unnerve the slayer, if only marginally. “And if what you say is true,” She said, “Why would you try to save him?”
“I am a princess.” Kagome said truthfully, “It is in my nature to protect those who cannot defend themselves.”
With a hint of reluctance, the slayer nodded. “My apologies, Princess Kikyo.” The woman took her final steps forward and effortlessly slung Inuyasha's body over the large demons back. “Kirara and I saw your carriage a ways back. We did not think you survived.”
Kagome nodded.
“My name is Sango, and this is Kirara.” The woman offered. “Come, Princess, let’s move away from this area and return to my camp. I have clothes you can change into, and food prepared.”
Kagome nodded, eager to be dressed in something- anything- that was no longer the remnants of her dress. The question burned in her mind ‘What will you do with him?’
~.~
The camp was a modest one, or so Sango said. Kagome had no other experiences with a soldiers camp, so she could not judge it in either direction. The clothes the slayer provided were odd for a woman- a tan pair of trousers that hugged every curve and muscle in Kagome’s legs, and a simple green shirt. Sango, it seemed, was less endowed in her chest than Kagome, and as she pulled the hem of her shirt down, she could feel the fabric trying to adjust and stretch.
To say the outfit was strange was an understatement. Never in Kagome’s life had she worn trousers. Never had she had her legs confined in such a way. Sango had even gifted her a pair of shoes- well made, crafted to endure the woods- nothing like the slippers she had started her journey with.
“I’m sorry, I’m sure this is nothing like you wear in the palace, your majesty.” Sango said, though she did not sound apologetic. “I don’t have any dresses on hand.”
“N-No, thank you. I am happy enough to be in anything not full of mud.” Kagome smiled, trying to push down the anxiety that boiled in her veins.
Inuyasha had been bound, arms splayed behind him and wrapped around the trunk of a small tree. The rope around his wrists had been tied securely, but that was not insurance enough. Sango reassured Kagome that the binds were a Slayers tool- blessed and crafted to work against demons. Anyone with demon blood would be unable to break free of them.
“You must think it odd.” She added. “The clothes. My father and brother did too, at first.” A ghost of a smile crossed Sango's face, her mask slipping, but she quickly put it back in place. But the trousers are more practical when I am out here.”
Kagome nodded. “They are odd, but not uncomfortable,” She lied. She felt more exposed than she ever had- her entire bottom was outlined and on display! “They are a wise choice for the woods. My gown certainly did not fare well.”
Sango looked at the discarded fabric that lay in a clump. “It looks like it must have been beautiful.”
“It was.” Kagome answered, and a heavy pause fell over them. Too curious to wait any longer, she finally said, “Why were you after him?”
“He has a high price on his head.” She supplied.
Though she did not ask, Kagome could not help but wonder “ But to who? Who is it that wants him dead?”
~.~
The fire was warm as it crackled, the moon high in the sky, and for the first time since her misfortunes began, Kagome was warm as she laid down for rest. It was not the same as her bed back home, but it was a blanket, and the bunched up remains of her dress, used as a pillow, and for this, Kagome was glad.
That was what made her need to go to the bathroom infinitely worse. It has been the closest she had been to comfort in days, but the increasing pressure on her bladder was now painful. She sighed as she uncovered herself and rose to her feet, eager to find a place of privacy not far from camp.
Kagome took a moment to inspect Inuyasha. He had been unconscious since his capture; Kagome had expected him to wake, had braced herself for the slew of angry insults and threats that would be hurled their way once he did. Half expected to see him break from the ties- and then what? What would he do?
“Princess.” He grunted, dazed. His voice was low, gravelly. Kagome paused, looking him over.
“You’re awake.” she whispered back. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“What the hell happened?” He licked his lips as he tried to look around the camp.
“Use your powers of observation.” She offered.
“They only get me so far. Last I remember I told you to fucking run, yet here you are,” He looked her up and down, “And I’m fucking tied up and you look look like you’re ready to work a farm. Fill in the blanks for me, princess.”
Kagome set her jaw. For a moment she had felt somewhat akin to pity for him. But the moment he opened his vile mouth she thought differently. “You were captured.”
“-no shit.”
“-by a slayer who says you have a high price on your head. You’re a wanted man, apparently.”
Inuyasha's eyes widened. He sniffed, his entire demenour frantic.
“What is a woman?”
“What?” Kagome asked.
“ Was the slayer a woman?” He repeated urgently/
“Yes,” she affirmed, inpatient to relieve herself and to be done with the conversation. “Now, if you’ll excuse-”
“ -you need to leave.” He said, tone firm and unyielding. “Listen to me, Kikyo. You need to get out of here.”
“What are you talking about? Why would I-?”
“She’s going to sell you,” He supplied. “To someone far fucking worse than you can imagine.”
“Wh-what?” she stepped back in disbelief. “She said she was- that she would take me to the Hojo tribe.”
“She’s going to sell you to the fucking wolves, wench. Mark my words.”
Kagome narrowed her eyes, anger rising. “What sense does that make? She’s a demon slayer. Why would she work with wolves?”
“Quiet!” He hissed. “Last I heard,” He kept his voice low, “they wiped the slayers clean. Small time village raids don’t usually get gossiped about, but the wolves laid waste to every slayer in the village. She somehow escaped. But I heard-” He nodded his head, indicating she should come closer. Kagome reluctantly leaned in. “I heard they took a boy, for leverage. If you don’t think that slayer is desperate to get her hands on the kid, you’re delusional. She’s going to sell us both.”
Kagome found that she was breathing heavy, more afraid than she had been in hours. “I- I don’t believe you.”
The demon smiled, crooked, full of fangs. “Then it's your funeral, princess.”
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It's Saturday night, I'll write some Colonel Autumn being a dick to Arcade fanfic if I wanna
Autumn
Defending Paradise Falls. Ha.
Up to now the arrangement has been going smoothly enough- the Enclave lets their activities slide, even pays half again what Ashur would for a first pick at quality captives. Given the alternative of being sent north to the Pitt, most people are only too happy to be taken to the shelter of Raven Rock.
Part of the bargain, though, was to save them if anyone should break through the defences- and so that's what you and your men are doing here, responding to Eulogy's urgent plea. Standing at the gate of a settlement wreathed in flame.
"Sir," one of the men says. "Shouldn't we be assisting?"
You watch the slavers, firing for their lives; and the flag of the Temple of the Union waving above Hannibal Hamlin's incinerator squad. A sense of overweening disgust takes you.
"Let them wipe each other out. We'll move in when it's over."
They wouldn't trust the assessment from anyone else; but you're Colonel Autumn, darling of the Enclave, and your word is iron law.
So they hold fire until the battlefield is only a cemetery, bodies of slavers and slaves scattered, and then you nod and they move in. Plenty of flame here to cleanse the corpses, scour this place for keeps.
Ashur will be displeased; well, let him be. It doesn't do to let any one faction in the Wasteland grow too powerful, and there's still too much risk of him rejoining his former allegiance. A Brotherhood with the Pitt's resources at its command could break the Capitol balance of power.
And as for Hannibal...well. President Eden doesn't care for non Enclave heroes.
So he's a particular priority to locate; and when your men report him in the clinic, defended by an Enclave Eyebot of all things, you raise an eyebrow and follow.
They aren't joking. Half its metal fronds are gone, it bobs up and down in a faltering pattern, but it's still functioning somehow. Impressive. They usually explode after the slightest tap-
wait, is this one of those Duraframe models? Damnit, this should have been scrapped already.
It does its best to zap anyone who goes near it; and any of your men could down it at need but they're all holding back, perplexed and disturbed. No one's ever hacked an Eyebot like this before.
There might be a good explanation, of course.
You nod at the Eyebot, draw your gun and place it down again. In its place, you hold out a super stimpak. It beeps, twice, and when you move forward it allows you.
Hannibal is alive, if barely; a medkit will keep him that way for now. The others- a mix of silver Temple armor and those new-fangled Follower coats- aren't wounded quite so badly, you can afford the resources to patch them up.
Somewhere around the second bottle of purified water wasted on someone who might not even be good Enclave material, you realise that you've slipped back into character, Lone Wanderer instead of colonel, and that's a foolish thing to do with your men watching in silence. They shouldn't watch their leader showing softness, or aimlessly pocketing ammo like a common prospector. Maybe it's been too long since you've travelled with Boone.
"I will fight you," Hannibal mumbles, training a lever-action rifle on you.
It has been too long. Taking this sort of risk doesn't befit this uniform. "I'm not trying to kill anyone. Shut up and let the Enclave save you people."
He lets the gun drop, but maintains a hard stare. "I never heard that your men ever left your Vertibirds."
You lean in close. "I stole this colonel's uniform so these folks wouldn't shoot me. They don't know I'm the Lone Wanderer."
His pained face eases into a smile. "That isn't a title to be claimed lightly."
"Believe me, I don't."
He chuckles, accepts the vodka you offer him. "I remember forging a claim just that mad and making it stick...all right then, Colonel. How about the slavers, any of them make it out?"
"No. We made sure."
"Good...Arcade? Arcade, we did it. We're still alive, and it's thanks to your medic skills."
The Follower he's attempting to wake groans, covers filthy glasses with the sleeve of an even dirtier coat. "Take two stims and call me in the morning. I'm done in."
One of the others is waking now, a short woman who was still clutching her shotgun when she passed out. "Hannibal? Arcade? You feel as good as I do?"
"Just about," Hannibal says warmly. "And I'm very proud of you."
She snorts at him. "Enough soft soap. I only helped murder, oh, every slaver in Paradise Falls."
None of your men would talk back to you like that.
For a moment, you wish they might.
*****
Arcade
Well. This is good and bad.
It's good, because the last time he was conscious had left him fairly sure it would be the last. The trip here was meant to be recon, not a full-fledged battle; Hannibal's insistence on always being prepared is all that had saved them. Well, and his own battlefield skills, which have improved of necessity on this coast. And Simone carrying so many guns that everyone in the pen could take one.
And the small Eyebot that's been their secret weapon, going in for the kill in tight spots. He's sure it made the difference between their life and death at the last, when Eulogy and his minions were taking them on personally.
And considering that, thinking of blowing up ED-E seems hugely ungrateful.
He repacks his depleted doctor's bag, feels the heavy weight of the detonator in his pocket. One quick movement and it would be over. Nothing to tie him to a piece of technology that he had no business dealing with in the first place.
An Eyebot bound for Navarro, never even making it out of the Wasteland; and if it reached its goal it would find nothing but dust.
Arcade raises the detonator unobtrusively, looks at the Eyebot. An Enclave scientist is trying to mend it, cursing under his breath as it beeps cheekily, bobbing up and down.
He sighs and doesn't fire, walks back into the clinic to meet Hannibal, who's beaming with pleasure.
"All well then?"
"Frankly, I could have done without the Enclave swooping in to loot everything. Simone's giving me plenty of lip for that. But we've found a few more survivors and the Colonel's men are helping out." His voice softens. "And Paradise Falls is broken forever. We can go back to the Memorial and be at peace, now."
"Actually, Arcade Gannon will be coming with us."
Arcade jumps- not least because he hadn't heard the colonel's footsteps. "Sorry?"
"Can I speak bluntly to you two?" Autumn asks, in an undertone.
"Shoot," Hannibal says, evenly. "Because he seems taken aback by this."
"See, it's like this...my men checked the records, they say he's a deserter. That means either him or his head. I'd rather it be him, you know?"
The soft drawl is attractive, but not enough to distract him from the content. "That's a- a mistake?"
"We have good records," Autumn says, looking apologetic. "And the Eyebot...the Eyebot was a give-away, you know. They wanted to know who did that. And more than that..." His voice lowers. "I need help. Badly. We're supposed to go back to Raven Rock today, and I don't even know where the damn place is."
Arcade looks around to see if any Enclave soldiers are here to witness this remarkable statement. They aren't.
"You get into some funny situations when you're the Lone Wanderer."
"Oh! Boone's friend!"
"...you know him?"
Arcade gulps down an incriminating statement. "Yeah. He shows up at the Followers tent for help with his addictions, he has a weakness for Steady. And moonshine. I tell him to cut back and he never does."
"Sounds familiar," Autumn says dryly. "My vice is vodka- he talks about me? Because I've met more talkative Deathclaws."
"Ooh...um, not that much. But apparently you pay well and you don't sleep enough."
"True enough...and look, I'll be honest with you. This scares me. An in to Raven Rock is the biggest thing I've ever been caught up in, and in twenty minutes I have to head there with no backup. Maybe you could come along?"
"If you're unwilling to go back," Hannibal says, squaring his shoulders. "We'll help you. I don't approve of people being held under duress."
"But I could do so much good by finding out how they tick," Autumn says quietly. "Even if it kills me."
"It will kill you," Arcade blurts out. "You don't know what you're doing here."
The door swings open, a soldier marches in and salutes. "Sir. The Vertibird is warming up."
"You don't have to go," Hannibal says, loading his gun; and Arcade knows that's meant for both of them.
"Duty calls," Autumn says.
And his solemn tone decides Arcade like no rational argument could; a man walking into hell of his own accord with no idea how to get out. Because he's trying to save the Wasteland, because there's no one here to help.
And it isn't even Autumn's responsibility, or heritage, or guilt.
Arcade steps in front of him. "I'm convinced. I'll come back to the Enclave."
It's the thing he's been running from all his life; and he won't let an innocent walk into it alone.
"And the test came back on this, sir. Scientists say it won't explode, but they can't quite figure what it does."
Autumn takes the weapon, gingerly pockets it. "We'll let them loose on it at base."
"Tell the Followers," Arcade starts, and stops. "Tell them I'm dead."
Boone would understand, feeling like destiny has caught up. He won't have the others trapped too.
"I'll honour that," Hannibal agrees. "Godspeed, Follower."
If it's the last time anyone will call him that, there isn't a better man to say it.
That's the last thought he has, as they go outside and start for the Vertibird; because Colonel Autumn doesn't take a chance and shoots him in the back.
The Eyebot that witnesses the act goes down next.
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SVT’s Jeonghan: Love, War and Everything Between || prologue
—
Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus
Moodboard Link: Created by Admin Grandpa
Character Pairing Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Yoon Jeonghan
Other Characters: Nu’est’s Baekho [known as Dongho], Seventeen [Seungcheol and Jisoo, along with idiot squad!Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan], and more to be added along the way!
Genre: historical, romance, drama, royal!au, arranged marriage!au + gender role reversal
None of this historically accurate. It is purely fiction!
Type: series
part 01 || part 02 || part 03 → to be available! check the progress on our upcoming page!
Word Count: approx. 1.4k
Plot Summary: Korea’s most distinguished military general arrives home, carrying back glory and honor from the war. However, the general has been revealed to be a woman! Due to the prominent military accomplishments you have made as the highest ranking general, by orders of the Empress, you are arranged to be married to the second-eldest prince, Yoon Jeonghan. Only one problem lies between you two: your reputation as a ruthless killing machine, which scares the living daylights out of your new husband.
→ Inspired by: the Chinese drama called Oh My General (also known as General Above I Am Below)
Warnings: graphic violence, glorified war, murder, sexual harassment, sex discrimination (mainly against women), poly-relationships (i.e. concubines), political corruption, and homosexual tendencies
Chaos.
War.
The two are practically one in the same—at least, in the context of a battlefield.
The wind continues to blow softly, tracing along the blades of the grass and lightly brushing the dust off from the dry patches on the land. In the sky, Korea’s flag flutters, with its colors reflecting onto the ground from the skylight, and the stand is firmly grasped in Dongho’s hands.
The sun radiates throughout the field, shining against the bright blue armor of your soldiers and the highlands that stretch out. The hills go on for miles—not even you could detect another city in sight, meaning civilians are safe from harm.
It’s a clear field, you note. Open land is best for battles—it means there is a lesser chance of traps from those who have higher ground and even less of an opportunity for sneak attacks.
Despite this fact, you remain on guard. There is no telling as to what can happen because, one wrong move and everything, and anything, can easily fall apart.
The silence is deafening as you and your army await for the enemy.
A familiar shout is heard from across the field. The ground trembles as their cavalry arrives, but you and your men stand your ground. Many soldiers in armor, embellished with bright red and yellow silks, start to fill the landscape. They halt within three miles away and part for the man himself, General Yang.
He sits on his horse, looking with nothing short of arrogance with a smug smirk tugged on his lips. With a draw of his sword, he lets out a roar with his men. You, on the other hand, are unable to hide your irritation at their behavior.
“General!” he shouts. The opposition quieted down. He continues. “It’s an honor to meet you on the battlefield once more! However, it is a shame that nothing can save you now!”
“General Yang!” you greet. “Let’s skip the pleasantries! Only one will survive and it will not be you!” Without looking back at your soldiers, you give your command. “Anyone who retreats will be beheaded on the spot!”
“Yes, General!”
The archers stretch their bows; the foot soldiers aim the cannons and Dongho passes your ax. The drummers pound the drums.
“CHARGE!”
Everything blurs as your foot soldiers charge themselves forward, swiftly moving past you with their swords drawn. The hooves pound against the ground and battle cries are heard from all directions. Metal clashes with metal; screams of pain and agony are ring throughout. They eventually stop—their bodies falling still, with gaping stab wounds that are beyond repair.
Despite being surrounded by the chaos, you can only focus on General Yang himself—who is growing angrier as his men begin to fall, one by one. Without hesitation, he charges towards you. With a kick of your heel, your horse starts up and accelerates its speed—its rein on one hand and your ax firmly grasped in the other. The wind blows against your face, dancing along with the fabric that peaks shyly from underneath your armor. You easily slaughter those in enemy colors who block your pathway, leaving countless men dead at the mercy of your feet.
The two of you meet towards the center, circling around as the bloodbath occurs in the background. Yang’s head is held high and his hand has a strong grip on his sword, which is drawn towards you.
“General (Y/L/N),” he says with baring teeth. “Today is the day you will die.”
You smirk at his brash statement. “How foolish of you to assume a devil can die.”
His snarl only grows before swiftly swinging his sword towards your direction. You easily dodge his swing, leaning your back onto the horse and letting the wind blow past. He manages to thrust the sword again, only for it to be collided with your ax. He tries to aim towards your hands, in a pathetic attempt to push the weapon out of your hand, but fails to do so. Repeatedly.
Your ax scrapes against his sword, blocking every hit he directs towards you. Having known him for the past six months—at least, in battle—you know his techniques. He’s such a caveman, so impulsive; ah, men... they really are too simple of creatures.
Your smirk grows at his miserable attempt to dominate over you. With one twist of your wrist and a shove from your shoulder, his sword rolls out of his grasp and falls onto the ground. In one swift motion, you point your ax directly to his chest and pull out the sword from the side, pressing it against his jawline—giving it a small nick, just because you can.
“You can surrender and survive,” you say. “Or you can continue this ridiculous war and lose your life.”
His jaw clenches, trying to keep his breath calm. “Never. I refuse to be with the losing side.”
“Oh, Yang,” you say. “Dying as you lived: prideful.”
“Men have pride and honor.”
“And the same pride and honor shall be the cause of your downfall.”
With those words, you pierce your ax into his chest and watch as he stills. Within a second of your attack, you rip the weapon out of his chest and slice his neck for reassurance. He falls off his horse and hits the ground with a grunt, spitting out the blood that blocks his airways. He struggles to keep his breath steadily; eventually, he falls once more and his entire body stills.
His second-in-command, who spots his general on the ground, immediately provides orders.
“RETREAT! THE GENERAL IS DOWN!” He pulls on his horse, turning himself and the other soldiers, the ones who are still alive, back to their home base. “RETREAT!”
You sit perfectly still on your horse, watching the enemy all flee like the cowards they are. No one attempts to even look at you—nevertheless, aim towards you. Dongho returns to your side and, without a word, takes the bloody sword out of your hand.
As they continue to flee, you hear the familiar drum beat echo throughout the field—slowly getting louder and louder as the field empties. You raise your battle ax and your men cheer in the sweet, sweet victory.
With one hand up, they are silenced.
“Do not forget the fellow soldiers who have fallen. We shall honor their memory with this victory. But, with this, we must remember: the battle may be over, but the war has not been won.”
“Yes, General!”
You turn to Dongho. “Let’s head back to celebrate.”
He smiles in response. “Let’s go home.”
The news of General (Y/L/N)’s success travels quickly, getting to the city’s capital as soon as possible, while the military were on their way back. The messenger races against time, swiftly moving across the country, galloping on his horse to get the message to the King.
On the other hand, in the heart of the city’s capitol, the King sits on his throne, which is located above the officials. His mother, the Empress, sits behind him—practically hiding behind a curtain of gold that cuts her off from the others in the gathering room. While she may have more experience and wisdom, she is still just a woman.
They were currently trying to figure out how to solve the natural disaster issues that had struck earlier this week. The flood had struck all at once a couple of days ago and the King found himself in a disadvantageous position, primarily with the citizens of Seoul who were demanding answers. The officials weren’t of any help either; each of them were simply trying to benefit themselves.
The King rubs his temple as the officials endlessly argue over who should be taxed and where the money should be going: the villagers or the palace?
With all this noise, he cannot think.
Almost as if it was an answered prayer, the messenger arrives on his horse at the door. As he steps off and heads into the room, practically running down the aisle. The officials’ chatter dies down.
The messenger bows, holding out the news in his hands. “Greetings to your majesty.”
“Accepted, proceed.”
He straightens up, opening the scroll to present to the King, along with the officials. “I bring news from the battlegrounds. We have won another battle and General Yang has been killed.”
The crowd of officials murmur amongst themselves, practically in shock from the success. Even the King is pleasantly surprised. While your family has an excellent military lineage, you have certainly outdone yourself.
“However,” the messenger continues, before anyone can celebrate prematurely. “General (Y/L/N) advises to keep an eye on the Chinese military since about half of Yang’s army have still survived, including his military council. Until then, the general and his army are currently on the road back to the capital.” He bows towards the King once more, before making his exit towards his horse to alert the others at their original home base.
Once the messenger clears, a high-ranking official, Official Kwon, steps out from the left. “Your majesty.”
“Accepted, proceed.”
“Because you have promoted General (Y/L/N) to his position, we have successfully taken back control of our borders. What would you like for us to focus on next?”
His majesty lets out a small sigh, slightly tilting his back further into the seat as he ponders. “We need to strategize ourselves politically,” he says. “Surely, King Wu will want to arrange a meeting soon. The question I pose is about how we shall approach it.”
A mid-ranking official, Official Chun, steps out from the right, keeping distance from Official Kwon. “Your majesty.”
“Accepted, proceed.”
“I suggest we wait for the invitation,” he says. “If he suggests a meeting, I recommend that we have the meeting at our palace and prepare the soldiers for a possible attack.”
Another high-ranking official, Official Song, steps out from the left. “Your majesty.”
“Accepted, proceed.”
“Official Chun is correct because we should prepare for a counter-attack. However, he is also wrong because we might focus too much on our capital and that could lead to the endangerment of the border.”
Chun, in silent response, gives Song a side-look that is nothing short of annoyance.
The King nods silently, awaiting for any other ideas the officials might want to contribute to the conversation. The officials’ heads remain bowed down, anticipating for the King’s response.
“Song is correct,” he says. “We must prepare ourselves for any possible attack.” He pauses. “However, we should wait for General (Y/L/N) and Military Counselor Kang to arrive, before we officially decide.”
“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says.
“Accepted, proceed.”
“Since the general and counselor are returning after three years, shall we prepare a parade in their honor?”
“Yes, we shall,” the King says. “After all, these two have sacrificed themselves for our country. A parade is the least we can do.” He lets out a sigh; the others are unsure if it’s one of relief or apprehension. “Because, without those two men, I am afraid of what the consequences may be.”
A/N: As always, thank you for reading the prologue! If you want to know about updates, please check the upcoming page!
#admin grandma#grandma writings#writings#series#love war and everything between#love war and everything between: prologue#historical#arranged marriage#romance#war and violence#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#yoon jeonghan#jeonghan imagines#jeonghan scenarios#royal!au#royal!jeonghan#lweb!au#lweb!jeonghan#group: seventeen#member: yoon jeonghan
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Andddd here’s my chappy three thoughts 🥳🥳🥳
Hmmm Katniss saying that her mother has a dress made of velvet is actually really interesting because it shows that Mrs. Everdeen Lily-Rose really was well-er off before she married Katniss’ father Hunter.
Or did she get the velvet dress from Maysilee? Oh well, who knows.
Aww, Katniss’ nervous habit of touching soft things repeatedly to soothe herself 🤧🤧.
“Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station.” — someone tell that to Peeta 🤣🤣🤣.
Okay I gotta stop picking on Primmers, I know but like. How small is she that she sits on Katniss’ lap like a toddler but then in the following year is the same height as her? Doesn’t matter I know but still I wonder.
Okay so Mrs. E is the doctor for the people of the Seam? Idk I never thought about this but who does people like Peeta or Madge or Delly go to if they’re sick or hurt? Is there a still running apothecary shop that Katniss never mentions? Are her grandparents still running the family biz?
Also okay, I gotta stop having so many thoughts on all the lil details I know but like. Katniss says here she’s familiar with the herbs her mother doesn’t grow on her own so like a). Katniss is more of a healer than she leads on because no average person knows what kind of plant is medicinal and b). Her mother is just growing herbs and Katniss never mentions it again in the whole series? Or I just missed it.
Okay imma move on from this one singular paragraph but Gale and her made a pact a year ago that they’ll supply each other’s family with game if they were to be reaped... I’m feeling like their close friendship is probably only one year old then? Idk. Just my interpretation.
Honestly I love Katniss getting mad at her mom here.
She’s sixteen, for God’s sake, of course she’s angry at what her mother’s illness put her through.
Also I lowkey like that her mother got mad back because that lady in the movies had zero personality.
“Boys who are two to three times my size.” She sounds so little, omg 🥺🥺🥺.
“I don’t care if we’re rich, I just really want you to come home” 🤧🤧🤧😩😩😩😩 okay Primmers, you got me here.
“the Peacekeeper is at the door, signaling our time is up, and we're all hugging one another so hard it hurts and all I'm saying is ‘I love you. I love you both.’ And they're saying it back...” this is so sad leave me be 😫😫😫😫
Katniss is burying her face in a pillow to block out her emotions this is too much for me 🥵🥵🥵
Omg I forgot Peeta’s father visits Katniss 😅
Why does he visit Katniss?
She describes Peeta’s father as a “big, broad-shouldered man.” And then describes Peeta as stocky. Idk the comparison of the two descriptions has always led me to think Peeta is gonna be a big dude when he grows up like his father. This made no sense and had zero correlation but I thought, so I said it, no regrets
Oh he brought her cookies 🤧
WAIT WAIT WAIT. I just had a new thought, y’all. What if instead of the baker bringing cookies being a thing he does for all tributes, what if he’s bringing the cookies because Peeta asked him to, because he made them and wants to give them to Katniss and knows she’ll never accept / trust them coming from her competition? What if that’s the real reason the baker visited her in the first place? Because Peeta asked him to? This was such a shipper comment but idc, no regrets, remember?
Omg Peeta’s father is just mute 🤣🤣🤣
Between an abusive, angry mother and a mute for a father, the Mellark brothers must have had a fairytale of a childhood 😅😅😅😅.
But seriously #PoorPeetaMyBaby
Aww Peeta’s father is gonna help keep Prim alive 😭
Omg I just remembered he’s her mother’s ex boyfriend. Haidon Mellark, as I named him in my fics.
That one fic where he was thought to be Prim’s real father is just playing now in my head, rent free.
But does Katniss not realize that he may be offering to help Prim as a favor to her? Like she claims Prim is just so wonderful people adore her but there’s like zero evidence in the text that make her endearing? Okay I need to turn this bus around, I need to find a love for Primmy Deen.
Madge is not one for preamble apparently. No “hi, how are you? I’m sorry you’re gonna die? What will your last meal be?” Just right to “here, wear this family heirloom of mine, k thanks.”
I like that Madge had to kiss her cheek for Katniss to realize they were friends 😅😅😅.
I remember always loving her and Gale’s hug here. I’ve always felt like it was platonic, but especially when I first read the books and had zero preference one way or another for Gale or Peeta, I really liked how she said even with nothing romantic between them, “when he opens his arms, I don’t hesitate to go to him” or something I’m paraphrasing ok I’m lazy
Also though, this is the first time they’ve ever hugged? Idk why that surprises me? It shouldn’t because where is a hug gonna fit into a hunting trip 😅🤣😂 “I just caught a deer!” “let’s celebrate with a hug!”
I like that Katniss remembers how her father even failed to make a good bow sometimes. Random, I know.
I like that the Capitol weren’t entertained by the people freezing to deaths because it wasn’t bloody enough 🤭🙃
“How different can it be [to kill a human vs an animal]?” She’s about to find out, Gale 🥺. And when she comes back you won’t understand 🙄😔
What did Gale want to say before the Peacekeepers dragged him away?
I used to think it was a confession of love but I’m actually sure it wasn’t now? Just the wording “remember I-“ doesn’t sound like it, considering he never confessed anything prior to her coming home.
I’m assuming now he was just gonna give her some more advice to stay alive 🤷🏼♀️. Clearly if it were relevant it would have made its way to the others books.
Aww, she’s never been inside a car before 😭😭. I didn’t even know they had cars in this universe but okay.
I notice though how she says “In the Seam, we travel on foot.” So is Peeta just riding his trolly down the street every day with the other merchants then? 🤣
Peeta just openly crying on camera 😅😢.
I like how Katniss is like “ooo is this an act to get sponsors?” when in reality Peeta’s like “no, I’m just a soft and genuine boy ™️”
Omg I just realized this totally goes along with Peeta’s thing later on “I want to die as myself”
He’s refusing to hold back his emotions because he thinks he’s doomed to die and he’s already refusing to pretend to be or feel something ingenious.
But a Johanna mention in book 1 chapter 3 woohoo 🥳🥳🥳 also Katniss comparing Jo and Peeta is kind of like foreshadowing of their shared torture in book 3.
Omg she just called Peeta broad-shouldered and strong. 🥰🥰🥰 my headcanon for his post-canon body is confirmed
Also why does Katniss keep allotting his strength to carrying bread trays around? Are they heavy? Why have I never once heard of people who carry bread trays being strong? I always thought Peeta was really strong because he learned to fight in order to defend himself against his mother but that’s probably wrong.
But if a mother is abusive, it can lead to one of the kids being physically violent as well and we know Peeta isn’t but he has two older brothers I’m gonna cut myself off now but I think we all smelled what I just stepped in.
Also I just find it so fascinating now how she regards herself vs Peeta here.
When talking about herself, she says, “The competition will be far beyond my abilities. [...] Oh, there'll be people like me, too. People to weed out before the real fun begins.” But when she talks about Peeta, she immediately says, “It would take an awful lot of weeping to convince anyone to overlook him.”
It’s just funny how she discounted herself right from the start but thought he was a real contender and then come to find out, Peeta believes it’s the exact opposite 😂🙃. They’re both so stupid I can’t even take it.
Wait did they actually give the location of the Capitol and the location of District Twelve in today’s world? And I just overlooked it? Brb I’m gonna go to google maps right quick.
Okay so basically what I gathered is the Capitol is probably in New Mexico and District Twelve is somewhere between Kentucky and Alabama. Irrelevant I know. But just a reminder now to everyone that Katniss and Peeta are literally speaking, crying and screaming in thick, backwoods southern accents.
It’s literally so sad how everything for Katniss is about food. Like every motive she has, every action she does is about preventing starvation ever again. 🤧🤧🤧
First mockingjay mention 🤭🤭.
“My father was particularly fond of mockingjays” 😭😭😭 I bet he was 😭😭😭😭
We always go on and on about how Katniss is a mockingjay or her children are mockingjays but Katniss herself here says mockingjays represent her father imma cry, y’all 😫😫😫😫
“It’s like having a piece of my father with me, protecting me” shut up shut up shut up shut up
Awww, Katniss has never had food like this before 😔😔😔
Neither has Peeta 🤧🤧
Katniss disliking the way Effie put the two kids from the year before down and so began to eat like a pig just to prove her point, is so her. And the beginning of her fighting for the underdog.
Omg the Rue introduction 🥺🥺🥺
Bahahahaha the commenters calling District Twelve backwards but charming 😅😅😅 they really are the hillbilly district
Peeta’s unexpected laugh 🥺🥺🥺 I love you, baby
“He was drunk. He’s drunk every year.” “Every day.” Katniss and Peeta are already finishing each other’s sentiments and teaming up to get on Effie’s nerves I love them so much 😍
Oh my God, Effie, you selfish jerk. They’re kids having fun for like one second, no need to throw in their faces they’re gonna die if the drunk won’t help them. I’d forgotten why I don’t really like the book version of her. I actually prefer her as comedic relief in the movies.
I actually just realized I really dislike Effie Trinket, I hope they never speak to her again Post-Mockingjay. Idc how you’re raised you don’t need to treat teenagers who are sentenced to a probable death badly just because they laughed at you 🙄🙄🙄😡😡😡😡. They didn’t even really laugh at her, she’s just annoying and awful, we don’t stan Effie in this household.
Okay, that’s all for my thoughts on chapter three! Until next time, y’all ! If anyone actually read this long mess of a post.
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Fear of the Water - Ch 18
Finnick deals with the fallout from Annie’s breakdown (some sexy Capitol Finnick) (Henry Cavill was my fancast for Finnick before the movie came out)
My AO3 - Chapter 1 - Jonsa - Coryo - Discovery of Witches
(ANNIE)
When I wake up, I’m in a white tube. It’s small so small and I’m strapped down – arms, legs, body, even head. There’s a whirring, buzzing sound coming from within the walls. Then there are voices.
“Aw, shit, she’s awake.”
“Should we put her back down?”
I struggle against my bonds. Are they going to kill me? Why am I here? What are they doing to me?
“Yeah, she’s gonna fuss.”
There are footsteps now – coming toward me. I try to tear my arms out of their bonds but nothing happens. I scream. The voices yell to one another and I scream and I scream and I scream. I don’t want this. Finnick and Mags said it was over now and I was safe and I don’t think they’d lie to me but maybe they did or maybe they never said it at all I don’t want to die.
There’s a sharp pain in my right thigh. Then it goes dark.
(FINNICK)
We’re supposed to go back to that damn waiting room with the grey walls and floor-length windows and fake orchid.
I skulk around in the hallway after the others have gone inside, hoping to catch a moment alone with the female doctor who flirted with me. She comes out through a doorway which she locks behind her. She’s too distracted by the papers in her hand to notice me. I clear my throat and she looks up.
“Mr. Odair. Shouldn’t you be in the waiting room?”
“It’s a bit stuffy in their for my taste,” I say. “Especially after all that drama.” I straighten up and close the space between us.
“Yes, that was really something,” she agrees. Her eyes rake my body up and down. She has to turn away.
“Have you ever seen anything like that before?”
“I haven’t personally.”
“No?” I’m not nearly as smooth as I usually am. I’m too anxious to be charming. “Annie’s something special then.” I step up behind her and move her hair away from the side of her neck. “Like you.” I press my lips to the side of her neck and she nearly collapses. I keep my arms tight around her waist and pull her against me.
She gasps my name.
“Will you tell me something?”
“What?” she asks breathlessly.
I flick the tip of my tongue over the pulse-point of her throat. “What are you planning to do with Annie Cresta?”
“Anthea!” We both look up. Her male colleague is standing at the other end of the hallway. He’s a good ten years younger than she is, but he has an air of superiority about him. And he looks pissed.
The woman – Anthea, I guess – goes ramrod straight and tosses off my arms. “It’s not –”
“We need to talk,” he says simply, his glaring eyes locked on mine. Anthea hustles down the hall and through the door the male doctor came through. He and I maintain eye contact as long as possible, until the door shuts behind him.
I growl under my breath. “Fuck.”
I’ve definitely made things worse. If that other damn doctor hadn’t come in . . .
Mags is pacing around the room with one of her hands over her mouth when I come in. Proteus stands a few feet away from me, apparently deep in thought. Eefa has made a surprise visit, which she clearly regrets. No sign of Broadsea, but that’s no surprise. He’s probably passed out in his own puke by now. I normally wouldn’t care but I feel that since Eefa made it here, he should’ve at least tried.
Proteus raises an eyebrow at me, silently asking what I found out. I shake my head.
The same two doctors as before come out to speak to us after about twenty minutes of waiting. They’re much more serious. “She did suffer trauma to the head while in the Arena,” the man says.
“But you don’t think that’s what’s causing her issues,” Proteus says.
Anthea nods. Gone is the quivering woman in the hall, replaced with someone cold and angry. She’s going out of her way to not look at me. “The tasks we had her do when she first woke up didn’t indicate any neurological or physiological issues. We did scans, too, after her tantrum at the recap, and they didn’t show anything out of the ordinary.”
“Tantrum?” I repeat.
“Then what’s wrong?” Proteus asks over me.
“We believe it’s mental illness,” the male doctor says.
None of us know what that means. We don’t have mental illness in the districts, at least not the words to describe it, but the Capitol has words for everything. They have enough leisure time to think about things like that, to come up with ailments to explain their every mood.
Our faces must betray our inability to understand because they take a different route.
The female doctor is the one to speak. “We are going to have Annie Cresta declared mentally insane.”
“What?” I spit.
Proteus speaks over me again. “Isn’t that a bit premature? She hasn’t been out of the arena for long.”
“We believe a swift announcement is in her best interest at this time,” the male doctor says.
“Her closing interview with Caesar Flickerman has been canceled,” the female says, totally ignoring our reactions. She may have succumb to my charms and looks before, but now she seems immune. “President Snow will make the announcement during that time slot instead.”
I don’t know what to say.
“What would you like us to do in the meantime?” Proteus asks after a moment, voice totally neutral. The crease between his eyebrows is the only sign that he’s troubled by all of this. The only sign.
I could kill him.
“She’s currently under anesthesia, but I recommend you board the train back to your district soon,” the woman continues. “Before anyone gets wind of this.”
“Why?” Eefa asks, brows creased.
“What do you mean, Why?” I ask.
“Why are you declaring her insane? What exactly is wrong with her?”
“Why do you think?” I snap. The first thing I hear her say in a week and she asks something stupid like that?
“I’d like to hear the diagnosis,” Eefa says.
The woman doctor sighs and looks down at her clip board. She knows we won’t understand any of it. “She shows symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, attention def –”
Proteus holds up his hand. “That’s enough.” He has no idea what any of it means, either. “Eefa?” he asks, turning to her. She nods, satisfied with what she’s heard. Maybe she was making sure they covered their bases; we generally accept that mad people are mad, but you need real proof to declare a victor mentally insane before the whole country.
“There is one piece of permanent physical damage I ought to mention,” the female doctor says. “Due to the stab wound in her abdomen, she won’t be able to conceive or carry children. There’s too much tissue damage.” No one really cares about that right now. What we care about – what I care about – is getting Annie out of here without adding to the damage that’s already been done. “I thought one of you ought to tell her once you’re back in your district and she’s had a chance to calm down.”
“I think you should get ready to leave,” the male doctor says. “She’ll be up in –�� he checks his wristwatch and bobbles his head as he does the math in his head “– ninety minutes, give or take.”
“Yes,” Mags says distractedly. “Yes, of course.” She blinks several times. “I’ll start preparing. And have Brae send for the train. Proteus, please get Annie’s stylist so we can get her ready to go.” The others go – Eefa practically sprints out – and I want to move, too, but my muscles won’t let me. Mags’s hand finds my shoulder. “She’s alive, Finnick. That’s what matters.”
I nod again because I can’t think of anything to say.
“Go. Clean up. Clear your head. I’ll be along in a few minutes. I just want to check in on her.”
When I get upstairs to our rooms, Greer rushes towards me and starts making a lot of gestures. I’m not sure what she’s asking until she runs her hand down her hair in a smooth, wavy motion. Like the way Annie’s hair falls.
“Annie?” I guess.
She nods.
I’m too tired to explain it all. “She’ll be all right.”
I start undressing before I make it all the way into my room, discarding my clothes as I go. Somes picks them up as he follows behind me.
I blast the water in the shower to its highest setting and make the temperature as cold as I can bear. I only take hot showers in the Capitol when I’ve just seen a patron. Different temperatures for different problems. It helps me compartmentalize. Keep my head straight.
I’m good at that. Compartmentalizing, keeping my mind focused on the task at hand. I always have been. A lot of victors simply can’t do that – it’s why they turn to drink or drugs. But I haven’t. And I won’t.
I don’t notice the slip of paper folded on my pillow until I start dressing. The paper is off-white and thick – the sort of expensive, heavy stuff they only use in the Capitol. I open it up, and the custom watermark at the top of the page informs me that this is from C.X.S.
President Snow has left me a handwritten note of congratulations.
The others have all gotten them, too.
Mags says he always does for the victors of the winning district. Etiquette, she says, is the most important thing to Coriolanus. Not for the first time, I wonder how well Mags knew him when they were young.
Broadsea whips a lighter out of his pocket and sets the note on fire before dropping it in an empty metal bin. He hasn’t even opened it. Eefa drops her own note into the bin; Mags gives Broadsea her letter to burn, too. I don’t know if she’s read it. Proteus tucks his away in his jacket pocket and tells me to do the same if I want to be smart. I don’t have a reason to save it; I’ve already memorized every word. But I decide to keep it anyway. In case I ever need a reminder.
Mr. Odair,
Congratulations on your very first victor. This is an exciting time for your fellow victors and all of District 4. It is an especially important time for you, as this is your first time mentoring a victor.
Of course he adds a little statement of regret at the end of my note containing a veiled threat:
I hope that you will not be bogged down by the weight of responsibility. It would be unfair for anyone to expect a young man such as you to take on the burden of Miss Cresta’s care.
It seems innocuous enough, but it’s another little reminder to stand back and just let things unfold. Men like Finnick Odair don’t get involved with that sort of thing, and girls like Annie Cresta never really go home.
My best regards to you and your new victor,
President Coriolanus X. Snow
#finnick odair#finnick x annie#finnick imagine#Annie Cresta#odesta#The Hunger Games#Hunger Games#catching fire#mockingjay#ballad of Songbirds and Snakes#bosas#henry cavill#fancast#fluff#story#fic#Prequel#ao3#ao3fic#angst#District 12#District 13#district 4#the capitol#katniss everdeen#Peeta Mellark#haymitch abernathy#Coriolanus Snow#Panem#Suzanne Collins
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