#[ jena was perfect but they really wrote her wrong ]

[denydefeat]

What's so crazy is it's 100% plausible to assume that the third quarter quell was entirely rigged because other than Brutus, Mags, and Peeta, no one is explicitly described as having volunteered (an argument for Chaff could be made as well given the "well Chaff never could stay out of a fight" comment that Effie makes while they're rewatching the Reapings) which means that Snow deliberately decided to strike after Capitol favorites as well in order to quell any sort of sympathies from within the Capitol.

Which obviously backfired with everyone's comments (Cashmere and Gloss talking about how much the Capitol has treated them so well, Johanna talking about how there never was expected to be such a relationship between the Capitol citizens and the Districts, Beetee drawing into question the legalities, and of course Peeta's "if it weren't for the baby") during the interviews. But looking at some of the tributes that were chosen, it's an easy assumption to make. Even Annie's name being called could have been a warning to Finnick to not participate in the upcoming rebellions, especially since there was already unrest in 4 at that point.

Anyways, I'm on a THG/TBOSAS kick so if you want to discuss any of this world, literally DM me at any point.

[ernestsinclairs]

All American - Chris Powell x MC

Chris Powell x MC (Jena diRetta)

*So I realized that if Chris really does go pro like PB says he does, we never got to see a draft night or celebration or something. So . . . I wrote one up

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“I don’t know if I can do this.”

The words came out quickly in an unexpected burst. As soon as they had left his mouth, Chris reddened, dropped his gaze, and suddenly became very interested in his tie.

Behind them, the hotel’s television blared loudly with all the news of NFL draft night. A bright flash, and Chris’s face popped up.

“Donna, we’re talking about one of the brightest prospects of this year: Chris 

Powell. He’s the quarterback of the Hartfeld Knights, led them to their first ever National Championship -- I mean, this guy’s got it in the bag. I’m predicting a first round pick for him, if not top 10.”

“Oh definitely, I mean let’s take a look at his stats for a moment . . .”

Jena grabbed the remote and promptly turned the television off.

“None of that right now,” she soothed, running her hands over his already perfect lapels and patting his shoulders. “We don’t need that.”

“I don’t know what I need,” Chris admitted. For the millionth time that morning, his voice wavered.

“But I know what you want, and I’d say that’s more important,” Jena said softly, cupping his cleanly shaven cheek. Chris sighed and leaned into it, worried eyes closing for just a few moments before popping wide open again.

“No, no, relax,” she whispered, dropping her voice even further. “Listen. I’m here. We’ve been through it all -- four years of college, car accidents, murderous frat houses. This is just another thing we’ll get through.”

He didn’t reply and Jena took the chance to press a quick kiss on his lips. He stayed stiff at first, then melted, reciprocating even harder, arms wrapping around her waist and scrunching the fabric of her dress.

“Right . . .” Chris said. “There’s nothing big about this at all. Just, you know, being drafted into the NFL with everyone seeing if I succeed to burn out. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” Jena swore. Her hand snaked up to his well muscled chest and felt his fluttering heartbeat underneath that tailored suit. She didn’t say anything and just looked back up at Chris’s face for a good five minutes. Finally, the heartbeat began to slow.

“Together,” she whispered, taking his hand when he tried to stroke her face and kissing it.

“Together,” Chris promised.

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The entire auditorium was awash in a flurry of colors and lights. Giant airhorns and sound effects boomed from the speakers, sending waves of vibrations through Jena’s chest. A grip on her thigh tightened and she knew Chris felt it too.

“If they don’t take you, they’re full of shi-” AJ pouted before her horrified mother clapped a hand over mouth.

“AJ, where did you even learn that?” she scolded. “Didn’t I raise you better than that?”

“He did!”

AJ pointed to the next table over where a rowdy Ohio State linebacker was laughing with friends and family.

Jena glanced over at her fiancé. Chris hadn’t noticed a single thing, and remained oblivious to the new catfight that had broken out between his mother and sister. His mouth was set in a gray line, and only his eyes betrayed how nervous he actually was. When his little brother groaned with impatience and threw himself over his lap, Chris lifted a shaking hand to try and pat him before giving up.

“Look at me, Chris.”

He drew a rattling breath and looked into her eyes for exactly one second before looking away.

“Chris.”

“. . . I’m listening.”

“Good. Listen to me, not them, not the crowd, not the commentators. You have a good chance of being chosen. And if not, you have another dream you can follow. This isn’t the end of the world. Just the start of a new one.”

The handsome young man smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering as if he didn’t want to look up and face the blasting music and glowing lights again.

“I’m here. What could go wrong?” Jena teased as she stroked his cheek. The taut muscle worked, then relaxed. Gently shifting to face her properly, Chris took her hand and kissed the little diamond ring from that last night at Hartfeld. 

“Alright, alright, I guess you’re right,” he said, breaking out into his first genuine laugh all that week. “NFL or not, we still have this, and I mean . . . what more could I want? Right?”

“Exactly,” Jena giggled and reached up to poke the tip of his nose. “There we go.”

Suddenly, a loud roar swept over the auditorium, and Chris’s head popped back up. The moment was gone and another was taking its place.

The NFL commissioner walked across the vast stage, a tiny card in his fingers. Chris reached for Jena’s hand, and she gave it willingly. Lacing his fingers in hers, he squeezed her hand tightly. 

The commissioner waited for a few seconds to let the rancor die down, then looked down at the card with a simple little smile.

“And with the third overall pick in the first round,” he started. Once again, he stopped for another agonizing few moments to let the cheering die down.

“With the third overall pick, the California Nightingales select quarterback Christopher Powell, Hartfeld University.”

Chris crumpled in his seat. With a gasp, Jena fell, pulled down by his weight. When he finally lifted his head, tears glowed in his eyes.

“Go, go get what you deserve,” Jena whispered as he leaned in to kiss her. With a tight, happy nod, Chris embraced his siblings who had already jumped on his shoulders, hugged his mother, and disappeared into the crowd.

Jena watched his head bob through as pride overtook here. It had been a long road for him, full of pitfalls like an absent parent, a juvenile record, and four long years juggling every responsibility possible, but he had made it. They had made it. In a few short weeks, their new life would begin. 

Chris strode onto the stage and took a Nightingales cap from an aide. With it securely on his head, he shook the commissioners hand vigorously and held up his new jersey. On the back in neat white letters was P O W E L L .

At last, they had done it.

As he exited the stage, their eyes met and time seemed to slow down. Despite the din of the entire room, Jena could clearly hear what he was mouthing to her from across the entire crowd. 

“I love you!” he mouthed, sparing a few extra waves for his mother and siblings.

She could do nothing but smile back, wiping a tear off her face and sitting back in her chair, suddenly lightheaded.

Jena shook an errant piece of confetti out of here, then caught it as it fell out. No, she would save it as a memory of tonight. She would go home and glue it onto cardstock and frame it and do whatever else she needed just to keep the present alive for a little bit longer.

But the future? Oh, she just couldn’t wait for the future.