#miss that bread so much.. miss being super skinny… miss having a body that lets me exert without horrible pain/throwing up/passing out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secret-rendezvous1d · 3 years

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“you’re so beautiful.”

hello, hi.

here’s some long-awaited spencer fluff that got requested to me. it’s loosely based on this idea that someone sent in to me; you should write something fluffy about spence or the reader being sick or having an off day (something along those lines), and the other just being very attentive to them. like checking in on them before the roundtable meetings or in between briefings and maybe they go out to catch an unsub and they're holding hands in the car and just being super sweet and caring :'))))) brb gonna go explode with feels.

explode with feels is how i hope you’ll feel after reading this. it did make me go all mushy inside because having spencer take care of me whilst i’m sick would be a dream come true- but it won’t because he’s a fictional character and that sucks.

this could the last story that gets posted for a while; some things are happening and i just want to take a bit of a break from posting stories on here until i’m feeling comfortable again. i’m still going to be writing behind the scenes so don’t think i won’t be; there’s so much spencer stuff to work from that plenty of stories will be coming. i just want to say that i am incredibly thankful to each and every one of you who has supported this new venture of writing and has enjoyed it so far.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you. enjoy.

“you’re so beautiful” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 4.6k.

* TRIGGER WARNING; very brief mentions of rape, abduction, torture. if you are uncomfortable with that, i advise not to read or read with caution. *

summary; yn falls sick and spencer likes to take good care of her when they’re working on a case.

YN woke up feeling like shit.

There was no need for her to beat around the bush and deny herself the truth on how her body was making her feel. Her head ached whenever she moved her vision from side to side and her temples throbbed close to her ears and she could feel her heartbeat from behind her eyes, pumping more vigorously, almost like it could have been heard throughout the entire building. Like the heartbeat effect in a movie when things got tense. Her breathing was shallow, her throat felt constantly dry and in need of hydration and her nasal passages felt like wet cotton-wool had been shoved up each nostril and had been strictly put there to restrict a clear intake and outtake of breath when she needed one. Her chest felt heavy, like she was drowning and had no way of coming back to the surface, and her eyes felt sensitive to the bright light of the pure sunshine streaming through the open curtains, which she assumed Spencer had opened when he woke up.

Despite feeling poorly and her head feeling like it wanted to involuntarily dip downward toward her chest, her eyes begging to have a few more minutes of sleep, she felt physically fine and there was no aching in her joints and no soreness around her neck and her legs felt strong enough to hold her weight and so she felt she could live the natural working day like normal. She could still hear so she could attend the briefing that morning, she could still see clearly so she could see the images of what they were dealing with when Garcia showed them on the screen in the roundtable room, she could still manoeuvre herself around and walk without getting dizzy or wandering from a straight line so she could easily be used in a chase to catch an unsub. She was fine to work and nothing but a couple of cold and flu capsules taken with her breakfast and some regular four-hour intakes of paracetamol through the day would keep her strong and feeling better throughout the day.

She left their bedroom freshly showered and spritzed with perfume and deodorant and dressed in an outfit that seemed like it was fitting attire to how she was feeling; a baggy sweatshirt, that hung loose down her upper body and covered her hands, and a pair of worn-out and black-denim skinny jeans that she kept in the back of her closet for days when work trousers just didn’t cut it for her. When she wanted something a little more comfortable and fitting. The material at the kneecaps almost worn out and torn from the non-stop crawling on her knees during cases that had them in tight spaces, the hems cut up from walking through thorns and shrubbery when cases took them into the wilderness, dried out stains of god-knows what sunk deep into the material which she struggled to get rid of when laundry day came around, and the denim around the inner thigh was wearing thin from the constant running around they had to do and with the amount of time she paced interrogation rooms and paced negotiation rooms when she felt on edge about something in particular. The jumper, she hoped, would keep her warm enough to not get worse symptoms over the next few days that passed so she wasn’t sent home for being ill - Hotch being more careful than strict because he couldn’t have her working excessively when her body couldn’t take the pressure.

What she expected to see, after closing the bedroom door behind her exit, was an empty living room that was void of anything related to Spencer. His house keys taken from the hooks by the front door, his tattered Converse trainers gone from the space beside her chunky black boots, his shoulder bag picked up from the floor by the coat-rack that was also missing his coat. Except, when she looked around and took a note of anything that had gone, everything seemed to have been left in the same place as where they had been left the previous evening when they arrived home; her boots were to the left of his trainers, his bag was hung up instead of left of the floor and his coat was taking up a hook on the rack beside her patterned macintosh.

He was still home and it took her a moment to realise.

There was a delicious smell of bacon and fried eggs filling the entire apartment, the delectable sound of something sizzling in a pan taking her from the entryway and into the kitchenette, where she found Spencer stood amongst the smells and the sounds and the spitting oil and the steam coming from the cooker. Stood with his back facing her and dressed in the typical waistcoat and patterned shirt, one hand holding a ceramic bowl in a tight grip and the other using a fork to mash two halves of an avocado up, head darting from the pan frying the eggs to the bacon cooking in the grill to make sure there was no burning of any of the breakfast foods he was prepping for a masterpiece.

“What’s going on here this morning? Are you burning food for an experiment or something?” She questioned, startling him in his spot, a tinkle of metal cutlery colliding with ceramic as he dropped the fork upon your sudden arrival. His body turned so gracefully in his place, the bowl of avocado being left behind on the counter, taking in the standing stature of his girlfriend as she stood in the archway of the kitchen entryway. Her hair damp from the shower but dried enough not to leave wet patches on her clothes, fresh-faced and make-up free, looking so small as she stood with a grin on her face- god, he really loved her., “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Good morning to you,” he smiled warmly, stepping across the expanse between them and reaching for her hands, curling his fingertips into hers and holding them gently in his sweetened hold. He smelt like his musky and sandalwood-scented aftershave, something that always lingered in whatever room he entered, and she loved that it made her feel so safe and secure. The smell of home when they/he were away from home. “You were tossing and turning in bed all night and I heard you sniffling this morning so I knew you were going to wake up a little ill so I thought I’d make you breakfast to cheer you up. Egg and mashed avocado on toast with some bacon to get you going since it’s your favourite at the moment.”

She smiled appreciatively. He was attentive, no matter what the subject was, and his eidetic memory came in hand sometimes when she found a new obsession or found something that she enjoyed because he always seemed to remember and never let it slip his mind. Egg and avocado on toast just so happened to be her favourite meal for the first meal of the day, which she knew would change by next week, and to see him cooking it made her heart race for him a little more than normal. She laced her fingers through his, bringing one of his hands to her lips and pressing a kiss to his skin because there was no way she was going to kiss him on the lips because she knew whatever she had could pass as quickly as it could spread. Much to her dismay, of course, because she liked to sneak the occasional and sneaky kiss whenever they could in between meetings or briefings or orders being thrown about from Hotch.

“A little ill?” She frowned, head dipping down to her chest before looking back up at him, his eyes full of concern and worry, “I feel fine. Just a little bunged up. A head cold, I would say, Spence.”

He left the space in front of her to tend to the sizzling in the pan that was becoming a little more vicious as it held the cooking eggs, spitting oil as an indication that they were ready to be taken out and placed on a plate and ready to sit upon a bed of toasted bloomer bread that had a spread of avocado along the toasted top. Turning off the hob and sliding to the toaster, slipping two slices of bread into their toaster and allowing it to toast whilst the bacon finished grilling under the heat. And, by this point, YN took it upon herself to sit at the dining table and pour herself a cup of coffee from the cafetiere perched in the middle of the table, steaming with black coffee that had been freshly made before she left the bedroom.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” Spencer broke the silence of the quiet apartment with a huff and a puff surrounding his words, setting a plate down in front of her and swiping his brow with the back of his hand, “you’re so beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful right now, Spence,” she informed him, eyes focused on the bright yellow yolk of her egg, as he went back to grab his plate and walked back to the table to sit opposite her. She was impressed with his attempt. She liked her eggs cooked in a very specific way when it came to frying them, sunny-side up and with a runny yolk that covered everything when it broke, and he managed to get it perfectly to her expectations. “I’m all bunged up and snotting and leaking from every hole today. I don’t feel so pretty.”

“Every hole?”

“Every facial hole, you pervert,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes, trying to hide the smirk that would have shown if she wasn’t trying to be a tiny bit serious. However, deep down, she was a little surprised that the innocent face that had sat opposite her at the dining table could even think of euphemisms so youthful and degenerative so quickly and so on subject when sex wasn’t exactly something he was confident in, “get your dirty mind out of the gutter.”

“I still think you look beautiful. Snot all around your nostrils or not,” he said, “absolutely gorgeous.”

“Shut up, don’t flatter me,” she kicked his shin underneath the table and grinned at the contact she felt with her toes, a wince leaving his mouth and a dribble of yolk trickling down his chin, the impact jerking his body and therefore jolting his arm and smearing avocado across his cheek, much to her amusement. “serves you right, genius.”

“Hurry up and eat, we’re needed in the roundtable room in half an hour,” he shovelled a forkful of toast into his mouth, the crust catching his mouth and swiping a mix of avocado and egg whites across his upper lip.“Try not to sniffle and cough so much otherwise Hotch won’t allow you on the jet.”

“Don’t sabotage my job, Spencer. The team needs me just as much as they need you.”

“I want you as close to me as possible so I can keep an eye on you. I’m a doctor, after all. I can look after you, carry any meds you need, be your something warm on the jet,” his sentence was halted by the ringing from the phone in his trouser pocket, the fork in his hand being placed on the plate so he could dig around and pull it out, no hesitation in his thumb to answer until he heard YN sniffle and he caught himself before he pressed the green call button. “You’re still alert to everything, yeah? Still good to come into work?”

“Do you mean, am I alert that Hotch is ringing your phone right now to get confirmation that we’ll be in on time?” She wondered, a hint of a smirk on her face when he looked up from his screen and nodded, “then yeah, I’m still good to go to work and treat the any like any normal day, Spence.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer’s question was full of concern, and she worried that those overhearing their conversation because of the silence inside the confinement of the plane had their ears pricking up at any noise made by any one of the team, his long legs striding across the alley of the plane and crouching down beside the chair YN had made herself comfortable in for the duration of the flight to Texas. Away from everyone else, away from where chat would have been occupied because her head couldn’t take the jokes and the laughter that came from the gentle banter shared, away from being seated next to anyone in close proximity because she feared that she would definitely give something to someone in the tight space they were spending the next few hours. Although, when she looked around the plane for any eyes on her or anyone who had stopped mid-task to focus on what she and Spencer were talking about, she saw everyone off in their own worlds and in their own quiet conversations as the plane coursed its path.

“I’m a bit tired but I’m okay. The pills before the flight are kicking in,” she smiled and tilted her head to the side and looked at him through red-rimmed eyes and hooded eyelids hanging above her coloured orbs, his arms folded on the arm of the chair she was curled up in. Her legs felt a little achy, in the bent up position they were in, and she remembered to move them and stretch them for a little to make sure her circulation was still running well. “I think I might take a nap right now. How long till we land?”

“Another couple of hours,” Spencer looked at his watch and then looked back to YN, his hand resting upon hers reassuringly, “I’ll brief you on everything when we land, if you want. To refresh your memory. I’ll get Hotch to get me and you to check the abduction site.”

“That’ll be good.”

“YN, get as much rest as you need,” Rossi said, standing behind Spencer and placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to tell him he was there and to not stand bolt upright in surprise. Partly to silently reassure him that she’d be fine if he left her to sleep through the flight to pass the time and partly to keep him stable as the plane hit a bout of soft turbulence from the gusts of high winds. “We’re thankful you chose to come with us but don’t forget to put yourself first sometimes. If you’re feeling rough then tell us. We can work around that.”

She really adored David.

He was like the father of the team; much more to YN because she had joined the team a short amount of time before he had taken over from Gideon. Even though he had common ground with almost every one of the agents in the unit, the two of them still kept a lookout for one another and checked in during intense cases because Rossi knew some of the information was enough to have someone second guess their career paths. He was the one who always pulled them aside when a situation got a little hated, he was the one who always pulled together team functions outside of work, he cooked for them and taught them Italian and he always knew how to shock and surprise them to a point where they weren’t surprised that Rossi had such an emotional and bumpy road in life.

He was the good cop to Hotch's bad cop - but that usually switched from time to time.

“Rossi, I’m fine. Honestly. I feel fine, just a little bunged up in the chest and the nose area. I struggled to sleep last night so I’m just going to try and grab an hour's shuteye,” YN spoke softly, wiping a tissue underneath her nose and balling it up in her fist, “I’ll be fine after a sleep, I’m sure. My grandma always told me that sleep was the best medicine.”

“If you’re sure,” he hummed, taking a step to the left and hiding in the alcove to make himself a cup of coffee, “absolutely sure?”

“This may not be my grandma’s couch but,” she grinned tiredly and nodded, “I’m absolutely sure.”

He smiled and held his coffee cup tightly in his hands, walking back to where he had been situated opposite JJ and Hotch, taking a glance at Morgan who had found himself comfortable on the sofa of the plane, the case file spread out on either side of him as he prepped to take control of the quick brief they always made so they were ready for when they touched down at their destination and split off into pairs to gain better understanding of who they were dealing with this time around.

“Warm enough?” Before his question was over, he was already shrugging off his jacket and opening it up, “here, some extra warmth,” he draped the material over her body and watched as she snuggled deeply beneath the garment. It smelt like him, it felt like him but it wasn’t him and she wished she could be snuggled on his lap and sleeping under his arm because that's where she slept the best- “better?”

“I was fine before,” she rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the touch of his lips, a kiss being placed against her forehead “but this feels nice.”

“Get comfy, I’ll go grab you some water.”

“You don’t need to baby me, Spencer. I’m honestly fine,” she grabbed his arm and stopped him from standing up and moving into the alcove behind her, not that he was going far but she just wanted to enjoy the moment they had going right now. They rarely got the chance to have their own conversation, in their own world, without any interruption from someone who wanted to tease them for something silly, “just stay here. I don’t need any water, not thirsty.”

“You can’t finish a sentence with the letter ‘d’ finding its way to the end of a word,” he said teasingly, a grin on his face because when she rolled her eyes, her head went the movement, like she went to ignore him because he couldn’t say anything seriously when she wanted him to be serious. Except, she wasn’t doing it to ignore him and to silently tell him that she was displeased with what he had said- she was doing it because if he let her eyes move on their own, her head would have been aching for moments afterwards, “let me grab you some water.”

“Spencer, stop,” she whined, “if I want water then I can get it myself. I’m not an invalid.”

“Never said you were but let me take care of you this time,” he was practically begging. She was independent when it came to being sick and she never liked to show a vulnerable side in front of Spencer, even when he tried his best to wear her down to the point where she gave in to his relentlessness, “please?”

She sighed heavily and pulled his jacket further up her body, tucking it beneath her chin and cosying a little deeper into the seat; she supposed she could use him and his willingness to obey orders to her advantage.

“Okay, fine.”

Two days had passed since they had landed in Texas, the longest amount of time that they’d ever spent on a case across the borders, and they were closer to the arrest of the predator who had abducted, raped and killed multiple women over the course of thirteen months than they were when they first arrived. Just a few more hours until they solved the case, had it come to an end with an arrest, so they could be on the jet and back in Virginia come nightfall.

She was ill, granted, and that was one reason as to why she couldn’t wait to get home. In the last forty-eight hours since they’d been there, YN’s head cold had turned into a full body cold and she had taken a turn for the worst but refused to work from the hotel room she shared with Spencer and kept her symptoms more secret. Partly because she was selfish - she knew Hotch would want her working away from the case because the chances of her zoning out where pretty high and she wanted in on the arrest of this unsub, she wanted to be the one who got him in cuffs and put him away for the murders of so many innocent women.

She wanted her own bed and she wanted to cuddle with Spencer and she wanted to sleep beneath her own covers and sleep in a mattress that Spencer wouldn’t check and inform her on all the facts about bed-bugs and larva that could linger within the spring beneath them, in a bed that wasn’t a tiny hotel bed that was put to shame by their comfortable bed at home. she wanted a decent shower to freshen up in because she always woke up feeling gross and no matter how many showers she took, she still couldn’t rid herself of the sweaty feeling that covered her skin. and she wanted

But she couldn’t wait to get home and try to rid herself of the information and the images she had been looking at and reciting and listening to over the last 48 hours or so. The stab wounds and the lacerations and the markings on the body of a woman who couldn’t defend herself, the brutal depiction of the well-thought out scenario that made YN shudder in her boots, the toture equipment that had been used on them when they were bound and tied up and screaming for their lives, the pictures showing the faces of the women who no longer had a life to live due to someone’s sadistic behaviour. That was the biggest reason as to why she couldn’t wait to go home.

And it was her arrest.

And she felt proud, a sense of accomplishment, that she was the one to handcuff him and walk him out from his tomb in the basement, beneath the house he had stayed in all his life, and pass him off to a police official who sat him in a police car waiting to take him to the station to be put away for the rest of his sorry life. Of course, they prevented any more attacks that this man would have prepared for but it never brought her a full sense of happiness- how could it when they couldn’t save the girls he had tortured?

“Even when you’re ill, you’re still a badass,” JJ claimed, squeezing YN’s hand and feeling the adrenaline shaking through her body. Something that they had all been through and always experienced no matter how many times they brought a criminal to justice for the horrific things they had done. “You did good, YN.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass just-” she coughed into her free hand and Spencer was close by with a tissue from his jacket pocket, passing it to her so she could blow her nose and wipe the residue from her hand that came from clearing her throat, “just trying to be good at my job and trying to do it well to get these sons of bitches behind bars.”

JJ smiled at the two of them and jogged down the steps of the house, running toward Hotch as she filled him in and told him what had happened in the house and who made the arrest and who was their support and back-up in case things went wrong so he could write the report as best and as true to the story as he could. His eyes darted to YN and then back to JJ a few times as she explained in detail, a small smile on his face that was full of appreciation when he looked at YN and made eye contact which enticed a smile back in his direction, deep in conversation before clambering into the drivers side of the car.

“I’d agree with JJ,” Spencer smiled, laying his arm over her shoulder and pulling YN into his side, pressing a kiss to her hairline, “full of a cold and you still put the job first. That’s badass behaviour to me.”

“Badass,” YN scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking up at him and squinting from the sunlight that seemed to be beaming directly down upon them, “I don’t think so, Spence.”

They descended the steps outside the front of the house, his arm still holding her close, the soft feeling of grass and soil from the front lawn making a difference to the concrete they had walked upon as they exited the house. YN could feel the heat radiating all around, making her feel a little hotter than usual and she had the big jumper covering her upper body to thank for that, and she couldn't wait to be back in Virginia in the air-conditioned office that stayed at a calm and cooling temperature, no matter the weather.

“For a genius, I’d take his word for it,” Rossi said from behind them, overtaking them in a haste to grab the passenger seat in the car with Hotch, “he knows what he’s talking about, YN.”

She didn’t need to see his face to see and hear the smirk in his voice, her arm sneaking around Spencer’s waist, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment as she received a well-done from the rest of the team who had watched from behind the scenes.

“Come on,” he leant away from her and looked down at her, “you did so good today. I’m proud of you.”

“I just want to go home now. Although, I’m not looking forward to the flight with these ears. They ache like mad,” she admitted. Her earshad only just started aching that morning, something she thought would pass if she kept clearing out her nasal passages and

“We could drive home,” “I can make Morgan take us back. He won’t mind.”

“I will mind. It’s three hours by jet, five by car,” Morgan teased, elbowing Spencer in the arm with hopes he took it as a piece of banter and nothing more than that, “no, I can do. Of course. We can grab a bite to eat on the way home, too.”

“No, flying is much quicker and I want to be home and in bed by nightfall,” YN assured, climbing into the car and scooting over to the far seat behind the front passenger chair, situating herself comfortably and clipping her seatbelt around her upper body, “I’ll just take some meds in a second and sleep it off as soon as we get on the jet.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent, Spence,” she nodded and gave the seat beside her a pat with her finger tips, “let’s get home.”

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fairytales-and-folklore · 3 years

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Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

✨ Original Post ✨

I know it's supposed to be an ask game but I love stuff like this so I just answered them all lol

Tagging @elevenstarsofchaos @summertimekiller @nutellarghh @tails89 @ash-mcj if you guys want to do it too

1. What is your middle name?

Chase

2. How old are you?

I grew up with dial-up internet, AIM, tamagotchis, and the spice girls

3. When is your birthday?

July 25

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Cancer/Leo cusp

5. What is your favorite color?

Dark Gray and Minty Blue

6. What’s your lucky number?

11 and 7

7. Do you have any pets?

Sadly no, but once I live in a place that allows pets, I'm gonna have a whole bunny army

8. Where are you from?

US east coast

9. How tall are you?

5'4"

10. What shoe size are you?

7/8

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

How many do I have sitting in a shoe rack in my closet or how many do I have stacked by the front door that I actually wear on a regular basis?

12. What was your last dream about?

Last night I dreamt that I was competing on a baking show with my pack and we were all covered in flour trying to figure out how to make sourdough bread lol

13. What talents do you have?

Writing, sewing, knitting, papercrafts, and for some reason, memorizing really random weird fandom-related tongue-twisters like raxacoricofallapatorious

14. Are you psychic in any way?

I like to think I have intuitive moments

15. Favorite song?

It changes daily, but right now it's Willow (Dancing Witch Remix) by Taylor Swift

16. Favorite movie?

It used to be a cross between Tangled, Half-Blood Prince, and The Avengers, but it's been a while and I'm not sure what I'd choose now

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

@elevenstarsofchaos ♥️

18. Do you want children?

Just bunnies 🐰

19. Do you want a church wedding?

I want an outdoor wedding — beach or garden

20. Are you religious?

I think I'd fall under agnostic

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

Yes

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

I got a couple of parking tickets lol

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

Apparently I just missed meeting Brendon Urie by a couple of minutes when my partner dropped me off at the airport one time

24. Baths or showers?

Showers, but baths are nice too

25. What color socks are you wearing?

It's July, too hot for socks

26. Have you ever been famous?

If you count seeing your own fic reblogged on your dash

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

Nah, too much pressure. I like my peace and quiet.

28. What type of music do you like?

A little bit of everything, except for country, rap, and metal

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

Yup

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

I alternate between a memory foam pillow and a buckwheat pillow, both super comfy

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

Side or stomach, usually

32. How big is your house?

It's cozy

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

Poached egg on toast and a honeycrisp apple

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

Nope

35. Have you ever tried archery?

I haven't, but I bet that'd be fun

36. Favorite clean word?

Wisteria

37. Favorite swear word?

Fuck

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

Two days

39. Do you have any scars?

A few little ones, mostly from hiking or crafting

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Well if it's a secret, how would I know?

41. Are you a good liar?

Lying makes me uncomfy

42. Are you a good judge of character?

I'd like to think so

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

I think I'm decent at a Scottish accent?

44. Do you have a strong accent?

I don't think so

45. What is your favorite accent?

Scottish, Irish, English, and Australian

46. What is your personality type?

INFJ

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

Probably my boots

48. Can you curl your tongue?

Yes

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

Innie

50. Left or right handed?

Right

51. Are you scared of spiders?

Oh yes

52. Favorite food?

Hibachi, pho, and thanksgiving style turkey and mashed potatoes

53. Favorite foreign food?

Pho

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

Clean, mess makes me anxious

55. Most used phrased?

56. Most used word?

I'm just gonna take and apply what my lovely friend Hayley said when I asked my pack what my most used phrase and word are lol

Me: What are my words? I have no words. I am wordless. Adrift in the sea without word or wood.

Hayley: Maybe you just have so many words. Every sentence you craft is unique. A gift to be treasured.

Me: Oh 🥺♥️

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

If I'm showered and dressed? Two minutes. If I'm in the middle of a project? I'll *say* two minutes but it'll actually be more like an hour.

58. Do you have much of an ego?

I would, but the self-esteem issues keep getting in the way lol

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

Suck until it's soft enough to bite

Welp, that sounds interesting out of context

60. Do you talk to yourself?

I give myself pep talks when I'm feeling anxious

61. Do you sing to yourself?

I sing while I work on projects sometimes

62. Are you a good singer?

I like to think so, I've been told I am

63. Biggest Fear?

That health issues will get in the way of me living a good life

64. Are you a gossip?

Nah

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

Moulin Rouge

66. Do you like long or short hair?

For me personally? Long

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

Yup, the song was drilled into me in middle school chorus lol

68. Favorite school subject?

Art and English

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Introvert, but I like being social with the right people

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

No, but I'd like to

71. What makes you nervous?

Feeling out of control health/body wise, people with bad intentions

72. Are you scared of the dark?

More scared of what might be lurking in the dark, especially dark waters

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

Only if they'll cause harm

74. Are you ticklish?

Yes, I'll flail and kick

75. Have you ever started a rumor?

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

I was line leader in kindergarten

77. Have you ever drank underage?

Yeah lol

78. Have you ever done drugs?

If weed counts

79. Who was your first real crush?

Ewan McGregor lol

80. How many piercings do you have?

Technically five, all ears, but most of them have closed up by now

81. Can you roll your Rs?

Oui

82. How fast can you type?

Moderate

83. How fast can you run?

I'd like to get better at running in general, let alone fast

84. What color is your hair?

Honey blonde

85. What color is your eyes?

Blue

86. What are you allergic to?

Most fragrances, cigarette smoke, peanuts

87. Do you keep a journal?

I do

88. What do your parents do?

Like for fun or for work?

89. Do you like your age?

It's fine

90. What makes you angry?

People who are insensitive, argumentative, and controlling

91. Do you like your own name?

Yeah

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

No, but I have a list of character names I like

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

I don't want kids, but if I had to choose, I guess I'd want a girl

94. What are you strengths?

I'm creative, I'm resilient, and I can make people laugh

95. What are your weaknesses?

Anxiety and fear of pain

96. How did you get your name?

I was born and my parents named me lol

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

I don't know, I've never done an ancestry test

98. Do you have any scars?

I feel like I already answered this lol

99. Color of your bedspread?

Charcoal gray comforter and blue and gray stars on white sheets

100. Color of your room?

White, but if I had a choice, I think I'd paint it light minty blue or light purple, with a matching darker accent wall

6 notes · View notes

hockeysweetheart · 4 years

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

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

Lets dig into this.

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

Chapter 1 Page 10 The hunger Games

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

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

Page 38- 40 Chapter 3 The hunger Games

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

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

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

Pages 109 to 112 Chapter 8 The Hunger Games

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

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

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

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

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

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

Catching Fire.

Catching Fire Chaper 1 Page 9.

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

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

Catching Fire Chapter 2 Pages 23- 28.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chaper 7 Pages 93-101 Catching fire

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Catching Fire Chapter 8. Pages 115-116

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

Catching Fire Chaper 8 Pages 116-119

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

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

Catching fire Chapter 9 Page 120

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

Catching fire Chapter 12 pages 169-170

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

Catching fire Chapter 13 Pages 178-179

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

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

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

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

Mockingjay Chapter 2 Pages 27- 31

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

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

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

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

Mockingjay Chapter 3 Pages 39-41

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," says Coin flatly.

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

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

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

Mockingjay Chapter 4 Pages 53-55.

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

Chapter 5 Mockingjay pages 63-64

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

Mockingjay Chapter 6 Pages 81-82

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

Chapter 9 Mockingjay Pages 116 -118

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

Mockingjay Chapter 9 Pages 127-130

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

Mockingjay Chapter 11 Page 158

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

Mockingjay Chapter 13 Page 185-186

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

Mockingjay Chapter 14 Pages 196-200

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mockingjay Chapters 14 and 15 Pages 200- 206

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

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

Mockingjay Chapter 15 Page 207

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

Mockingay Chapter 17 Page 244

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

Mockingjay Chapter 19 Pages 267-268

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

Mockingjay Chapter 19 Page 274

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

Mockingjay Chapter 23. Pages 328-329

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

Mockingjay Chapter 24 Page 275

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

Mockingjay Chapter 26 Pages 366- 367

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

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

Chapter 27 Pages 384 385

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

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

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Chateau Quarantine

Sophia Coppola smokes a cigarette while she waits for an omelette she has no intention of eating. It’s a gloomy marine layered morning, you can barely see across Sunset. She’s been in lock down for three weeks and while she normally loves the moody, brooding decadence of the Chateau Marmont, its elite solitude is giving her a bit too much time to reflect. She thinks about the concept of crying as she watches a long torso-ed model skinny dip in the pool from the penthouse. There are no rules anymore, not that there were many in the first place. The hotel was shuttered to the public as of three weeks ago, and those who were already there could stay indefinitely. Sophia lives alone in the tower suite with the three bedrooms and the wrap around porch, known by some as “the Deniro”, but Robert himself couldn’t tell you why. Any legends or gossip about the Chateau were just bread crumbs to keep the public hungry and mystified. The real Chateau for the privileged few who used it, was an unceremonious respite for excessive loneliness, addiction, and often not great sex. The Chateau had a reputation: look but don’t fuck. Everyone’s genitals were rendered useless from anti-depressants.

She thought she would be filming by now. Her cast is stranded too, with little guidance other than “we’ll wait it out.” The film she wanted to make stars Hugh Grant and Ewan McGregor as two estranged brothers coming together for their father’s funeral. Iman was set to the play the mysterious woman who shows up at the funeral who they then realize was their father’s mistress. It was going to be a slow movie about the brothers coming to terms with their father’s death and equally so falling in love with the woman he hid from them. All this would be suggested through intimate long takes, and funny, stylish, improvised montages. Always subtle and romantic without the sap, this was the tight rope Sophia liked to balance on. At the end of the movie, both brothers are mildly changed, but not entirely. She has a sweet spot for the immovability of people’s psyches, particularly men.

Sophia watches impartially, as the naked model floats on her back in the calm pool. It is so cold and early to swim, is she on drugs or is everyone at this place even more numb than they think? She wondered if her film was too male, too disembodied from her personally to mean anything. Tapping into the male gaze, was an ability she was born with. Her father’s point of view was all she interacted with as a kid, and the underside of his specialties became her focus: the lost parts of men when they are too weak to hold up the heavy crown of their egos, who they were when they could let themselves feel outside of their work. But given the state of the world, and the molasses nature of time during lock down, Sophia started to question if what she always found to be her strength was just simply trauma. Was her whole profession a way to resolve some genetic creative stifling that took place in the shadow of her dad? Surely her body of work contains more than that. It’s not all a selfish attempt at repair. Is any art not selfish? "Maybe I should make a different movie, something that everyones gonna like for once.” She thinks to herself. Thank God, her goat cheese omelette has arrived.

Later on, the gothic lobby is empty besides the cast of her film and the elegant model behind the reception desk standing like a hollow sculpture, frightened by the chaos that lurks outside. Ewan McGregor, drunk off of five Marmont Mules, is showing Hugh Grant an app that maps the stars and constellations. Ewan has gone on and on about a camping trip he took around Scotland and how amazing the stars were, but when pressed for details about where exactly he was or what he saw or what year he did this, he can’t seem to remember anything at all.But that doesn’t dampen his excitement about the app. “See, that, there is Orion’s belt!” Ewan enthusiastically points out, his cute smirk displaying his bottom row of sweet corn kernel teeth. Ewan just recently learned about the stars. Until the age of 47, Ewan had been referring to them as “night freckles.” Many think this is why he didn’t have a fun time acting in Star Wars, space simply befuddled him. Hugh and Ewan are dressed exactly the same: navy blue beanie, black jeans, a tight blue thermal, and desert boots- the actor man uniform they give you after you play opposite Nicole Kidman or Renee Zellweger.

“That’s brilliant,” says Hugh Grant completely perplexed by the app and confused at Ewan’s rambling. Hugh sticks a handkerchief up his nostril with his pointer finger and wiggles it around somewhat violently. Iman clocks this with a blink of disgust, her silk, gold blouse glistens with god-like royalty in the amber glow. “Can you turn your face away? That’s how the virus is spreading.” Her voice is deep and she rarely uses it because it changes the direction of the wind and messes with the tides. “Aw, fuck me. That’s right, isn’t it?” Hugh Grant turns away and starting blowing his nose and coughing obnoxiously. Hugh is acting like a resentful brat because he knows he wont be able to have Iman. He decides he’s gonna pick a fight with Sandra Bullock via face time later to blow off steam. Iman is thinking she was right all along, she should never have agreed to this. She was already sick of the “beanie twins”.

Hugh had been rattling on about how the movie needed a sex scene or at least a sexy scene and went on to say that Sophia had some sort of block. Iman felt that both Ewan and Hugh, however innocently, were exploiting their acting roles to gain real life experience, and there was no way in hell, she was going to kiss either of them. Her kiss would make them immortal and Iman knew their souls needed more lifetimes to grow. Plus, she liked the script the way it was- underwritten and open for interpretation. Her character is symbolic of the side of their dad they didn’t get to meet- spiritual, graceful, embodied. It was a soulful choice not to show any nudity or sex, one that could lead Americans to try to use whats left of their iPhone stolen imaginations.

Meanwhile Michael Cain, who was supposed to play the dead father, is staring at the beautiful Victorian tapestry hanging behind her. “It’s like it’s right out of the Cloister’s.” Michael says under his breath. Michael is sweet, Iman thinks as she watches him stare at the tapestry with wonder, his mouth agape, and a lil warm milk spilling out of his left eye. Iman and him have known each other for years and he always reminded her of her husband: his fierce devotion to his craft, his rigorous intellectuality that does a bad job hiding an animalistic sexuality. Both men contained so much and no one can handle a man like that besides a mystical siren like Iman.

Hugh and Ewan’s chatter dies as their drinks empty. “If I were to be honest with myself…” Hugh begins. “Better later than never…” Michael Cain interrupts without cracking a smile, a dryness a la Maggie Smith. In fact, fuck, this was Maggie Smith. No one had realized. Hugh winks at Michael/ Maggie and continues. “ I don’t think were going to be filming any time soon, folks. I think we are being held hostage a bit by Miss Coppola.” Ewan stares off with a thinking face like no one has ever had a deeper thought before. “That is interesting to think about. There is some kind of bratty assumption that all this will fade away soon enough. And we’ll be back on set. But what if it’s not for another year or so?” Ewan is really getting worked up “What if we live here for the rest of our lives!!” His eyes are big and dazzling, it’s like he’s thinking of the most ideal outcome for the rest of his life.

Suddenly, Sophia joins them at the table. “There they are, my little hunchbacks!” This is what Sophia affectionately calls her actors, the origin is unknown. Sophia has a strange new confidence around her. Usually, when she walked into places, she would feel like a Nat Sherman cigarette, like only some select tall New Yorkers in the back would still appreciate her. “Hello, love! Someone slept well.” Maggie Smith as Michael Caine chirped. Even when Maggie-Michael said something sweet, it still felt like someone was aggressively tickling your ribcage.

“I have news.” Sophia sits down, and smiled large and toothy, a stark contrast to her usual chic, despondent stare, a look only afforded to artists born with trust funds. “We’re not making the movie.” Hugh taps the table. “Well, I believe I won that bet.” Ewan’s jaw drops, destroyed. “You mean we cant live here together forever?” He runs his hands through his hair, petrified. Iman is quiet, which can mean many different things and all things at once, she is eternally the glory of God, a forgotten pyramid at the bottom of the ocean that if unearthed would explode us into 5D ascension.

“We are making a better movie! A super hero movie!!” Sophia exclaims. Sophia gets up close in the faces of her cast, pitching them on her new idea. “It’ll be a real heroes journey- good guys versus evil! Fun CGI! Sexy starlets and fun on trend jokes!” She turns to Michael Maggie, her mouth inches away from their milky eye, and says- “And much much more!” Sophia climbs up on the table now. “The adults will love it, as well as the little ones!” She does an Irish jig and starts spinning around and then poses with her arms up as though at the end of a musical. It was not fun to watch. Iman cuts her off-“I don’t trust what is happening.This is not reality. This is delusion. A karmic spell.” The power of Iman’s words blows the power out of the Chateau, pipes burst, the fire alarm goes off, and Joel Madden of Good Charlotte in room 304 stops jerking off for a second. Sophia is still catching her breath from her presentation, her sweating, arms stretched to the ceiling. She gulps as her eyes meet Iman’s. “Why don’t you just write from my character’s point of view?” Iman says as softly as she can without causing chaos. Sophia freezes. Her whole body calcifies and turns to ice, then crumbles onto the table. Ewan and Hugh watch in absolute horror as Iman drops some of the ice into her water. She knows she shouldn’t have said yes to this project and looks on lovingly at Michael/ Maggie who has dozed off.

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thearcanawriting · 5 years

Text

Asra Alnazar NSFW Alphabet

A=Aftercare - What they do/act like after sex.

Asra always makes sure that you finish, even if he already did once or twice. There’s no way he’s ending until both of you are satisfied. Once that mission is completed, he praises you, making sure you know how good he felt and exactly what you did to make him feel so good. He doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease you, though.

B=Bondage - Are they into BDSM, and how far they’ll go if they have a green light.

Asra can definitely get behind bondage, especially considering how close you and he are. Enjoys tying you up, making you squirm and touching your soft skin with his hands. He loves blindfolding you and letting him do what he will. He also enjoys being tied up himself though, and you know all the right places to touch him. Binding him tightly gets him going, and bringing magic into the equation is only more exciting.

C=Cum - pretty self-explanatory.

Asra tends to eat pretty healthily, his diet usually consisting of bread, vegetables, fruit, and meat. Because of that, his cum is usually very thin, but good to taste. As for where he cums, he isn’t picky, though he will let you know that he loves seeing you covered in his cum. He says you wear it well, but if you prefer not to be cummed on then he will always make sure it goes somewhere other than you. Always cleans you up afterward, though.

D=Dom - Are they dominant, submissive, a switch?

Asra is a switch, sometimes he enjoys being on top so he can watch MC as they squirm and moan, like putty in his hands. He loves leaving hickeys all of you, letting the rest of Vesuvia know that you are his. Other times, he enjoys being on the bottom so he can leave scratch marks on your back, and pull your hair. If you’re riding him, you’ll get a lot of noises out of him.

E=Edgeplay - Similar to ‘Kinks’ except it’s a lot riskier than usual kinks (knifeplay, breathplay, etc.).

Asra LOVES to get naughty in that space inbetween reality and that which is in between. He knows in dangerous there, and so do you, but that just adds to the edge of it all. Asra would never be able to do anything himself to intentionally hurt you, though. He’s too afraid of messing up and hurting you for real.

F=Fantasy - A fantasy of theirs (ex: a teacher/student fantasy).

Honestly, he loves master play. He hates it when you call him your master seriously, but in the bedroom, the thought of it gets him going. Sometimes he even likes to reverse it and let you be the master/mistress.

G=Got Caught - How they react when they get caught having sex.

It depends on who it is, honestly. If it was someone Asra was on good terms with, he would invite them to join you. With your permission of course. If it were someone he isn’t so fond of he would pull the covers over you, lest anyone underserving see your gorgeous body, and glare at the intruder, “Get out.”

H=Hot Spots - A place that drives them crazy when stimulated (EX: neck).

Asra LOVES having his neck touched, run your nails against it, pepper it with kisses, fill the whole space with hickeys, he loves the whole thing. He finds the area so sensitive and personal, you’re the only one who really gets to touch him there.

I=Intimacy - How romantic they are, or can be, before, during, or after sex.

Asra is a big romantic, he’s all about big gestures and bringing you home things he finds that remind him of you. Tells you why these things reminded him of you and tells you about his day, afterward you tell him about your day. Dates can go between dinner at a fancy restaurant, to just getting some pumpkin bread and spending the evening in your bed. He’s also very romantic during sex, praising you when you make him feel good and complimenting every spot that he kisses.

J=Journey - Their ideal way of leading up to sex.

Usually what gets you two going are just little touches here and there, a little spark of magic. Usually it starts out as playfulness, but you quickly get closer and closer and more and more touchy until you end up lying back down on the counter and Asra is looking down at you with hungry eyes.

K=Kinks - I’ll list a few of their kinks, be they the normalized ones or kinkier kinks.

Edging, Sensory Deprivation, Over Stimulation and Orgasm Control are his biggest ones.

L=Location - Where they like to have sex at, do they like risky locations, etc.

Asra will do it just about anywhere as long as the two of you can find some privacy. Sometimes he gets a little horny at awkward times and he’ll have to drag you into the hedge maze and release some of it upon you.

M=Masturbation - How they are when they get themselves off, what they get themselves off to.

Asra is a big loud whiner when he’s getting himself off, if you’re in the room, he likes to put on a big show for you. Always moaning out your name with a sweet voice. He gets twitchy and when he’s reached his climax, he’s twitchy and breathless.

N=NO - A few things that they will absolutely, under no circumstances, ever do.

Big No-no on those really dirty things, you couldn’t do anything to convince him to partake in watersports or scat play. That’s a HUGE turn-off. He also won’t participate in knife play, too worried that he would end up hurting you.

O=On’s - Their top turn on’s that they have (things that’ll get them super horny super quickly).

Teasing him gets him going pretty quick. You just have to have a couple of well placed lingering touches and he’s all yours.

P=Position - Their favorite position to have sex in.

Really enjoys Cowgirl, his partner being fierce and in control is something that will always bewilder him. Also absolutely loves when your legs are over his shoulders.

Q=Quickie - Do they like it, do they prefer quickies over actual sex, etc.

Asra loves quickies, if you guys are spending the day somewhere else he will always make sure that some time is given to let you both ravish each other, no matter how little that time is.

R=Rough - How rough they are, or get, when in bed.

Asra isn’t really one for getting too rough, but sometimes if he’s really really getting into it, sometimes he starts biting and scratching roughly.

S=Stamina - How long they can go before they tap out.

Asra has SO MUCH stamina, the man could go for days if you don’t stop him. He’s always up for a round two or three but as soon as you say you’re finished for now, he always listens.

T=Toys - Do use toys, do they own them, what kind, etc.

Oh yes, he’s got lots of toys that he’s found on his travels that he’s eager to use -- he doesn’t even know what some of them are for, but you two are sure to figure it out together.

U=Unfair - How much they tease you, how they tease you, etc.

Asra loves to tease you, it’s one of his favorite things. He’ll bring you to the edge and then pulling away, making you cry out a whine for him before he’ll return to pleasing you.

V=Volume - How loud they get when having sex, things they might say, etc.

Asra is loud and whiny whether he tops or bottoms. He is loud and proud of what’s going on and if anyone else hears him, then that’s their business. He won't be quiet for the sake of others.

W=Wild Card - a random letter for the character of your choice.

I did all the letters so, here’s a little headcanon–Touching his mark get’s him going as well, it’s very sensitive, just like a big scar.

X=X-Ray - How they look with their clothes off.

Asra is a bit on the skinny side, he doesn’t really do much physically other than walking. Most of his muscles are in his legs and his arms. He’s got some freckles scattered along his body, along with a couple of moles here and there. He’s got a couple of scar from miscellaneous things.

Y=Yearning - How often they need to have sex.

He likes to think he’s not that dependent on sex, but he likes to have it at least once or twice a day. He didn’t want it so badly until he met you, so he blames you for it.

Z=ZZZ - How quickly they fall asleep after having sex.

It depends on where you guys are, if you're comfy at home in your own bed then he falls asleep pretty quick, despite protesting that he isn’t tired and he could keep going if you wanted him too.

#Asra #asra alzanar #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #this is very not sfw #please don't look at this younglings

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igotyoukth · 5 years

Text

Weight loss. BTS

Masterlist

Seokjin

It took you a while to notice his weight loss, because he was eating so well. But then you saw him in one of his older white shirts. His bones were sticking out, he was skinnier than ever. You knew that the new choreography was stressing him out. The dance was hard, you remembered him say one night.

Yes, at night, as this was the only time you could see each other. He would rush into the practice room in the morning and come back late at night. You couldn't help but get angry at yourself and also at him. He was an idol for years now, he should take care of himself, you thought. Didn’t he learn one thing or two? How he was the most important thing. Himself and his health and well-being.

But then you remembered what his fans meant to him. It wasn't his intention to suffer, but this was the only was for him to repay Armys. He always felt lacking in many ways, no matter how confident he tried to present himself. You decided to visit the boys at least once a day in the studio, to feed them and to help wherever you could. If Jin was stressed to fulfill his motherly role in the group, you woul fill in. And with Jin so skinny, you couldn't imagine how the other members looked like.

“Delivery, starving sonyeondan!,” you yelled into the practice room,”Let’s gain weight this promotions!”

Yoongi

He was wearing a belt. On the jeans you bought him last month. The reason you got them was the perfect fit and now he had to wear a belt. Yes, Yoongi was naturally on the skinny side, but even he had to admit that he didn't look healthy anymore. His skin looked dull, his hair was growing slower and thinner and he was aching all the time.

„Min Yoongi", you yelled, after calling his name for the tenth time now in front of his studio, the Genius Lab. Genius, my ass. He was dumb enough to starve himself and make his health suffer.

He slowly opened the door and you grabbed his hands, without warning. You dragged him into the living room and made him sit on a chair. His favorite meal sat on the table, but instead of eating he stared at it and you.

„Eat", you said loudly, watching him angrily.

He shook his head. „I have no appetite and a song to finish." He tried to stand up, but you slammed the table. He froze. You couldn't see him like this anymore.

„Y/N", he said, taking your hands.

„I know you have to work, you want to prove yourself, but this is just dumb," you said,"how much do you weight now, Yoongi?"

He looked down at himself. „I don't know," he whispered.

„Tell me the code for the Genius Lab," you said once calmed down.

„You know the code, it's your birthday, but why?"

„Everyday for at least three meals, I will get you food.” It wasn’t a question, you would make this boy eat, no matter what.

Hoseok

His ribs were the first thing you saw in the morning. There were no toned abs anymore, just bones.

Being the main dancer always made him proud and motivated him to work harder. But now with all the weight loss, he had less power in his moves, which made him worker harder than before, which again made him lose more weight. It was a vicious cycle.

You hugged him and kissed his collarbone. That woke him up and he whispered you a good morning.

„What will you do for breakfast?," you asked him. He used to make you food, before he stopped and rushed to practice everyday.

„I have dance lessons", he murmured into your hair. You hugged him tighter.

„I won't let go, until you feed me." You felt his laugh on your body. But you meant what you said. You wouldn't leave him alone, until he ate with you. Of course, he would have to wash his face with the koala-you and prepare everything like that. But he found it funny enough, that he didn't tell you off. He made pancakes and put nutella on them.

„Open up," he said but you shook your head. „You first."

When you saw him eat, it made you smile brightly.

„Why? What's wrong?," he asked. „That's probably the first real food you ate in the last few days." He wanted to protest, but realized that it was the truth. Hoseok wasn't usually a person to lose his discipline over work, but this comeback just demanded more than usual.

„Will you ask me to take care of myself? Is this why you are glued on me?" His smile looked sad. „I will hand my watch over to Jimin, if you don't eat later. I bet he does an amazing job as a koala.," you said. Understood, he murmured and took the rest of the pancake.

Namjoon

It was kind of funny. RM was running around the house looking for his keys and phone. He didn't doubt for a second, that maybe he didn't lose them.

The truth was that you hid them to make him stay home. Everyday he would rush into the studio to finish old songs and start new ones. But without his studio keys, he couldn't enter it and without a phone, he couldn't call anyone. Also his phone had all his ideas in it.

After an hour, he decided to stay at home, take a day off, just as you hoped. You couldn't hide your excitement and asked him, what he wanted to do.

„Just nothing?," he looked overwhelmed by the question, as he had spent days working nonstop. You reached for your phone and ordered pizza.

„In the morning?," he asked.

„Come on, I probably have today to make you gain some weight," you answered. When the pizza arrived you sat on the couch and started a movie.

„Namjoon?," you said, while he still looked at the screen.

„Hm?"

„When will you stop overworking?" He turned towards you now and looked confused. „But I've always been like that," he said.

„That doesn't mean it's normal, you know." You took his wrist and compared it with yours. „Yours shouldn't be thinner than mine, don't you agree?” He didn’t have an answer to that. He waited for you to continue.

“I just want two days in the week, where we spent time and I take care of you. Mess yourself up all the other days, but can you promise me those two days?" You sounded frustrated, but didn't care at this point. He was surprised by your reaction, but quickly nodded, afraid that you might cry.

„Wednesday and Saturday then?"

Jimin

„Okay, I will follow your diet plan then", you told Jimin.

He always ate little, but the food on his plate was practically nonexistent. A few vegetables and rice looked kind of sad in front of him. And he wouldn't be able to finish this either.

„No way, you have to eat to work", he responded quickly.

„And you don't? Did you develop super powers, that allow you to survive with that amount?" You started to sound sarcastic now.

„I will eat later."

You took your phone and dialed Jungkooks number. He picked up and greeted you. „Hi, Kookie, how much does Jimin eat in the studio?" Jimin tried to grab your phone, but you stopped him with your other hand. He wasn't that strong, not with his current physiques.

„He doesn't eat much, I guess. He usually practices the moves and his singing while we take a break. You know him, Noona", Jungkook explained. You could imagine the Maknae shrugging his shoulders. He didn't want to tell on Jimin, but he must have noticed Jimins state, too. You thanked him and ended the call.

Jimin pouted his lips and didn't look at you. He murmured something about not my mom and embarrassing.

„Oh should I call your mom, too, Jimin?" He shot an angry look at you and put his chopsticks into the rice. Like a baby, you thought.

Taehyung

After years of writing lyrics and melodies, that didn't get choosen as the final product, V wanted his own song. The melody was finally done, but the aftereffects were visible on his body. Inside his oversized shirts he looked like a lost child and his bones were peeking through the holes he made. His sharp nose was more prominent and his one-sided double eyelid looked deeper.

„Any progress on the lyrics?," you asked him when he walked into the kitchen to drink some water. He even gave up on soda. He shook his head. You walked closer and backhugged him when he closed the fridge.

„Maybe you need some inspiration?" He turned around and caressed your hair.

„What about the restaurant nearby? You love their pizza," you suggested.

„I missed your ramen," he said and kissed your nose. You were happy to hear, that he was willing to eat and quickly began to get the ingredients.

He sat down and watched you prepare everything. He didn't talk, which was so unusual for him, but it made you talk a lot more. He would giggle here and there, knowing he made you nervous like that.

„I get it. You can stop," he laughed when you tried to talk about politics. You were so bad at small talk. „I will come out to eat."

„And please talk. You won't write lyrics, if you forget to talk. Or listen to me speak about politics."

Jungkook

You cut the cable that connected his screen and computer.

After telling him to take a break for way too many times, you finally had enough. He stared at you when he saw his screen go black.

„You did not." He sunk into his chair and looked shocked. „I didn't save the video."

He didn't only lose weight, but a few braincells as well. His computer was still running, you just cut the connection to the screen, but you wouldn't tell him.

You turned his chair and pushed him all the way to the kitchen. He was still pouting and glaring at you.

„If you didn't save it, it probably was not that great.” You were provoking him. But he made you mad with neglecting his body like that.

„It was the best Golden Closet Film I ever made." You rolled your eyes. „And these are the best dishes I ever made."

He crossed his arms and refused to eat.

„Okay, you eat and I restore your video, deal?," you asked. He thought for a while and finally nodded. When he took a bite you entered his studio and searched for a new cable.

„They are in the first drawer, next to you," you heard Jungkook say behind you, leaning on the door frame. So he knew? Or maybe he could finally think clearly with nutritions inside his body. He had bread crumbles around his mouth and a sandwich in his hand.

„Thanks for the food, but don't do that again, ok?"

“Don’t make me do it then.”

#bts #bangtan #bts imagines #bts reacts #bts reactions #fanfiction #jungkook #v #taehyung #jimin #jjhope #hoseok #namjoon #rm #suga #yoongi #jin #bts scenarios #bts fluff

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bubbelpop2 · 4 years

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Being fat isn’t a bad thing. Being malnourished is.

Not only is obesity a problem in america because healthy food and access to good healthcare are super fucking expensive, but the amount of people that are both obese, and malnourished at the same time, is at a phenomenal record high. This is because processed foods are cheap and easy to make, and cheap and easy to consume. They have a lot of the energy your body needs, but none of the materials that your body needs to rebuild itself. So when you eat fast food, you’re likely to eat it in large amounts to make up for the lack of vitamins that it gives you.

I grew up in poverty, with a shitty, neglectful dad. The only thing my dad knew how to make was spaghetti, and i was under his care. I ate so much spaghetti that I threw up. I ate so much spaghetti but was still hungry. Still tired, still not paying attention in class, still not nourished. Because spaghetti didn’t have the materials that my body and brain needed to thrive. I was surviving, but my brain’s ability to regulate thought, sleep, and emotion, was stagnated. All because the food that I had didn’t have enough nutrition.

Let me explain further. Imagine you’re a fisherman. You fish at a pond every day. The big fish are hard to catch, but nourish you very well. The little fish are too easy to catch, there are a lot of them, and they don’t nourish you well at all. In this metaphor, the big fish are the foods that contain enough materials for your body to rebuild itself and keep up vital functions. Your brain also uses these materials to regulate everything. These materials are essential to your survival. Now, let’s go back to the little fish: these fish have way, way more energy in them than the big fish. But they have little to no building materials inside of them. You would have to eat hundreds of them a day for your body to get everything it needs.

For rich people, who can pay people to fish for them, tell them which fish is better for them, prepare the fish, buy bigger rods and boats and nets, catching the big ones isn’t an issue.

For poor people, who only have a stick, or their bare hands, or a net, can’t catch the big fish. They can’t afford to, and they don’t have the energy to do so. So what are they supposed to do? Just “work harder”? Go out of their way to get the big fish? Are they even able to do that? Are they disabled and physically incapable of catching the big fish? Can they just not muster up the energy to do it because of how tired they are already because their brain isn’t getting enough nutrients?

Do you see the problem yet, or should I continue?

What about rich people who didn’t use to be rich, or prefer the small fish because they aren’t used to the big fish, don’t like them, or are too lazy to go out of their way to get big fish?

Obesity isn’t a problem, it’s the result of a problem. Fat people should absolutely not be shamed. They shouldn’t be victim to jokes, and shouldn’t be afraid to be fat. In fact, someone who’s fat because they eat large amounts of “big fish” (healthy and nutrient dense foods) are far less likely to get heart disease than a skinny person who, when they do eat, eat small amounts of the little fish. Obesity isn’t a problem, at least, not all obesity.

See, there are two different types of accumulating weight:

gaining weight by eating healthy foods often, drinking fresh water, and exercising moderately (not exercising extremely to the point of being underweight, which has been shown to be very stressful on the body. You’re not supposed to use all of the calories you consume, you need to save some for your body to be able to think and sleep properly.)

And gaining weight because you have no other choice. You have to eat. You have to eat, and because the only thing you can eat is cheaply mass produced foods that have high amounts of energy but low amounts of materials, your body stores the energy it doesn’t need, and desperately soaks up any nutrition it can get. And not only is it cheap and easy to afford, it’s also easy to eat and easy to digest, which makes it addictive.

The human brain is lazy, and so is the human body. The body doesn’t want to work hard for nutrients and energy. In fact, it’s designed to do it by expending the least amount of energy possible. So these foods, which are the only foods you can afford anyways, are easy to process. Easy to digest. Easy, easy, easy. Your brain likes easy. Your brain likes the word and concept of easy very much. Fast food is very addictive this way, and so are most of the cheap foods that aren’t from a restaurant but from a grocery store. Cereals, chips, bread, pasta, ice cream. All of these things are easy to digest. Which makes them very appealing, and very addictive.

And so a lot of people that have “problems” with their weight don’t understand that it’s not bad to be fat. It’s bad to be malnourished.

Your brain needs materials to survive and think and work properly. A prison study showed that when supplements that provide the proper vitamins and minerals that they need along side of their unhealthy prison food reduced violence by a whopping 39%. But that’s not the only report of proper nutrition reducing emotional instability.

The fast food industry is predatory. It takes all of the things that your brain is designed to love, and enhances them. Which causes enhanced reactions. Have you ever felt your mouth water at the thought of a deep fried chicken strip with cheese sauce and msg, and then moaned when you bit into it? It’s designed to be addictive, and a lot of fast food companies and even regular food companies like grocery stores add sugar and msg to everything. In case you don’t know what msg is, it’s a chemical that’s made up of all of the things that our brains love. It’s not harmful, but it’s very, very delicious, and very, very addictive. Hell, msg is in the official KFC secret recipe.

“Colonel's secret blend of herbs and spices? It came very close, yet something was still missing. That's when a reporter grabbed a small container of the MSG flavor-enhancer Accent (how did that get in the test kitchen?) and sprinkled it on a piece of the fried chicken. That did the trick. Our chicken was virtually indistinguishable from the batch bought at KFC. (Does KFC add MSG? A KFC spokesperson confirms that it does use it in the Original Recipe chicken.)”

And the kicker? It’s not even unhealthy to be fat. It’s just unhealthy to consume products that have high energy (calories) but low building materials (vitamins, minerals, healthy fats). In fact, a lot of perfectly healthy people constantly work out to exhaustion and eat as little as possible to avoid being fat, when the fact of the matter is, that having a bit of a tummy, thighs, and hips, (for both men and women!) Is not only healthy, but we’re designed to be in that state. That’s why people keep gaining back weight time after time, diet after diet.

Because some people? Are designed to more aggressively store body fat than others, regardless of diet or exercise. I know people that could eat an entire barn full of cows and still not have a single inch of fat on them, and I also know a lot of my fat friends don’t binge eat. They don’t eat fast food constantly, and they don’t have a lazy or unhealthy lifestyle. They’re fat, because they’re supposed to be. That’s what they’re designed to be.

Let me repeat: being fat isn’t bad for you, unhealthy food is. You can acumulate fat, and still be healthy. Fat doesn’t NOT mean unhealthy, under any circumstances. And in fact, fat people often go on to lead normal, productive lives. My teacher, for instance, is fat. But she’s also a math genius that use to work for the National Nuclear Security Administration as an Engineer until she came back to teach in her hometown. And she was fat.

To be honest, weight has zero to do with what you can accomplish. Nutrition, sleep, water, and a healthy mindset that comes from good coping mechanisms and therapy does. And the fact that poor people don’t have access to.. most of these? Is the cherry on the cake. Making us unable to think is the first step in us being complacent. The government not providing proper mental and physical care, and also not providing good and healthy food/supplements, combined with the negative stigma around being overweight, is a system designed not to hurt just the fat: but to hurt the poor.

#shut up bubbz #please reblog you can't tag posts with links #they don't show up in the tags #ill tag anyways #fat shaming #fat positivity #fat #overweight #obesity #health #anorexia blogs don't fucking touch my post or bastardize it for your needs

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renaer-is-allegedly-hot · 4 years

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session 7 notes

again . i have no pity for the formatting .

OK WHEN YOU'RE IN COMBAT

Roll a d20 to attack

If you're using a weapon +5, if you're not +3

IF YOU ARE USING

Dagger (20 ft reach)

1d4+3 damage

Shortbow (80 ft reach)

1d6+3 damage

Shortsword (5ft reach)

1d6+3 damage

And then you add sneak attack ONCE PER TURN!

2d6 added to damage

Alrighty here we go

Jacob's gonna dm a broken sink one shot

Halfway through offtime, freetime

We went back in time

Have been getting used to living w each other

Tensions starting to build bc different living habits

A week and a half into downtime, downstairs for breakfast

Before kitchen was set on fire

Halflings are cooking bc I said it was funny

We have a fridge

Cel opens the fridge, investigation check

There's half a carton of half and half, two eggs, jar of jalapeno sauce jelly (or is it jalapeno sauce and jelly?), half a loaf of french bread, four potatoes, onion

Dip bread in the egg, mix w half and half…savory french toast?

But the sink is clogged

Cel is taking the food out of the fridge, theo is making the vegetables and cel is doing the french toast

Theo is making a dexterity check, cel is doing a wisdom check

19 and 4, respectively

Cel forgets what french toast is or forgot the basic steps so scrambles the eggs and puts them on top of the bread like eggs benedict, now it's toast w eggs on top + perfectly diced potatoes

We probably have an oven we have an oven

Theo sticks the potatoes in the oven

Has passive insight of 9

Puts potatoes in a little too long, come out a lil too dark

Throwing jacob for a loop bc he's not using the sink

And we didn't wash the potatoes

Asyna and Aerana

Asyna was sleeping, aerana comes back from a walk

Asyna walks downstairs, aerana busts down the front door, take a deep breath and it's burnt potato skin and scrambled eggs

Surprisingly appetizing

Dm will probs let it happen

We eat breakfast, asyna says it was good

The potatoes were a little burnt - we roll constitution checks

None of us r poisoned

Now we have four dirty dishes

Cel tries using the sink, water comes out

Sink starts to fill, cel turns off the sink, water just below the top

Grinder next to it

Sloshing water, kinda gross

Asyna proposes turning into a fish to swim down

If she dies in this it's fine

Turns into a good fish

Turns into a newt

"do newts have legs"

They breathe through their skin

Tb to that one episode of wild kratts

Yeets in as a newt

Barely fit in the drain bc apparently newts r kinda chunki

Rolls a 12

Actually got an 11

Squeezes in the really tight sink drain

Halfway through it's pitch black but lizards have darkvision so

Halfway down hits a fuzzy black mass

That's . Icki

Water barely trickling through it

"can I shove it with my strong newt arms"

Makes asyna want to sneeze

Asyna is gonna make a nature check

Rolls a 7

Can tell it's kind of like a plant

"can I eat it"

"do you want to"

Takes a nibble

Constitution saving throw w lizard stats

Gets poisoned w an 11

Except we don't know she's stuck

Now has disadvantage on all rolls

Feels terrible

"you bite into this fuzzy mass, and it's super, super bitter"

"there's so much that you take a big bite - damn you are really poisoned now - you did take out a solid chunk" but there's enough that it's still clogging

Tries climbing back up

Makes acrobatics check w disadvantage

9, gets halfway back up the drain, poison really hits n kinda bloats, makes her stuck

Moans

The mold was at the curve (we don't know it's mold tho), halfway in between bottom curve and top is where marguerite is

Stick ??? Wire ?? String ???

Sleight of hand check, you roll 14

U shove it down and u hit smth and u hear a noise, wedge it in between the side of the wall and the newt, start inching back up, eventually we see a tail poke out of the drain

Bright orange newt

Animal handling check, you roll an 11

But u pull her out

Asyna leaves the sink then turns back into a non-newt

She's still poisoned

Asyna knows it is black and fuzzy n smth similar to a plant

Cel runs nature check w advantage

19 cel is like yeah that's black mold

Using a stick and poking aggressively, theo is

Dexterity save, 23

Shoves mold down, toothbrushed the drain and pulls it out

Looks like a stick w a black marshmallow at the end w a bite taken out of it

"I was trying to help"

Sink has been successfully unclogged, asyna is poisoned, our fridge is empty and everyone ate unpeeled potatoes

Dom's turn

Snuck into residence trying to sneak around groundskeeper n stuff

Lots of dead ppl lying about

U know what would b fun a dnd campaign but make it criminal minds homebrew lmfao

We're in g10 on the map, can still hear fighting upstairs

We've only been in g7 g8 and g10

Adam is holding vicious mockery and stealthily opens the door for g6

Total of 20 for stealth, appears to be a pantry w spices n jars n preserves, against far edge is a barred door from the inside

Two servants inside who r dead, older human male and a younger halfling

Adam closes door, tries not to throw up, opens door and slightly investigates bodies

Medicine check - 16, looks like stab wounds; older human dressed more finely, younger wearing an apron

Both r v dead

Door barred from jacob's side, he gets us into the room, we all go in

Cel looks at the barred door; heavy plank of wood placed over to keep it from being opened

Aerana rolls 21 perception check, you don't hear anything but sounds like it could lead to the street

Adam is gonna peek into g5, door opens without trouble

Just a kitchen, large fireplace w space for a big pot

Pot is empty, nobody's in the room

On to g9 we go, ppl draw their weapons

Asyna and cel go to g9, adam cel and aerana hang out in g8

Aerana knows that it gets foggy and rainy in waterdeep in the spring, you start to hear heavy rain from outside

Room is furnished for comfort, lots of dainty chairs n lounging sofa, wine cabinet, paintings depicting different humans in noble attire, two more dead bodies in the room that look like guards

Asyna and cel don't recognize any faces

Upstairs we go?

Nope theo does g11 adam does g12

Theo goes in first, door is locked

"haha lockpick time"

Door is made out of wood

Puts ear to door to listen for anything, rolls 6 for perception

Doesn't hear anything

Now will pick lock, 11

Doesn't open lock

Adam tries kicking the door, 13

Can't open the door

Gets a bruised shoulder jk a bruised toe

They go to g12, it's a cozy library w tall bookshelves and wooden panels

There r tomes

Adam checks out the book on the lectern

Theo goes back out to let us know what they found

Adam sees a locked book, looks like it could be a wizard's spellbook but not sure

Picks it up, takes it

10 for intelligence; there's a symbol similar to the one on the bodies of the guards like a coat of arms

Comes back and tells us he found the book

Theo tries lockpicking

Rolls a 22, opening it in g8

Opens the lock, first page has symbol

Says 1,239 - 1,422

What does it mean jacob will roll intelligence

Rolls an 8, doesn't know

Second page is all black

Adam holds it up to the light, feels cold or like coal ?? Falls out and gently floats to the floor

Splits into three pieces

We roll for initiative

Cel has nat20

17 for asyna

16 for theo

12 for adam

Aerana has a 9

Piece of paper falls to ground, splits, from the three they melt into the floor but then become a taller form and swirl around in grayish smoke, they look like ghosts, v skinny n purplish w long claws

"hey there demons, it's ya boi"

Cel goes first w shsw, hacks the closest one

Doesn't hit, monster is making strange gasps things, kind of reaches out to strike, hits, 14 damage lmfao

Halved her hp, makes constitution saving throw

14, swipes at her and hands pass through the armor, feels drained

Asyna is gonna try to turn into something guess it's a badger

Attacks the one that's closest to asyna, rolls 15 to hit and rolls a 12, both hit

Rolls d6 and adds 1 and 2d4

7 damage for one, 7 damage for other

It's like ur trying to hit smoke

Theo will hit w shsw, 17 to hit, 4 to damage

Lashes at same one, swings shsw and connects but feels like not injuring it that much

Adam makes all of them make charisma saving throws, 18 14 and 2

One of them disadvantaged but not at a disadvantage they just have to subtract a 1d4

Uses cutting words on the other least damaged ghost thing

For next attack have to subtract 1d6 from roll

One lurches forward to attack theo but misses

Aerana deals 18 damage to closest one to you that hasn't been hit yet

Strikes and it spins around, almost gets out but u hack at it and sword passes through part of it but comes back together

Other guy tries to hit aerana, 11 misses

Cel does shsw again, 18 to hit, 7 damage

Our current attacks are dealing half damage

Other guy doesn't hit

Asyna goes, rolls 14 and 6; 14 hits and deals bite with 7 damage

Theo rolls 16 to hit, 8 damage

Frenzy kind of fight, everyone in melee

None looks more hurt than others like difficult to tell

They're hovering

Adam rolls, sees cel p damaged, heals cel a little bit to 16 hp, healing is a bonus action so vicious mockery on one of the ghosts

survives

Other guy goes while jacob pees

We're in g8 and coming down the stairs we see a man drenched in all different kinds of blood with a shortsword, short dark hair, human, runs down and wearing a dark armor reminiscent of the zents, makes an immediate left at the front door and runs away into the rain

Oop adam the guy rolled a nat20, somehow the other guy is getting damaged ? Wait I'm confused ok ig so

13 damage and jacob gets OHHHH it's a reactionary fire thing bc he's a tiefling

Guy does 23 damage and adam is down

Adam has to do a constitution saving throw, 17, adam falls unconscious like he's fainted

Aerana rolls 17 to damage

Deals a really heavy blow to one of them and it almost vanishes to nothing but then comes back and reforms

Misses attacking me suck it

Celandine casts cure wounds for adam for 8 hp

Other guy attacks and misses

Badger!asyna time

Uh is it bad that I just . Haven't mentioned groot . And that groot should still be there from last session . Oopsi

Anyways badger!asyna rolls nat20 for one and 2 for the other

Picks bite or claw, doubles whatever is rolled for dice, rolls 9 so is that 18 or what ? Ig it doesn't matter for me

Goes for the one closest to her so the one attacking cel

Solid bite attack

Theo's turn, 22 to hit, 8 damage

Adam wakes up, has other guy make wisdom saving throw w 11, needed a 12

2 damage and it has disadvantage on next attack

"danny phantom more like danny phandumb"

Sends it reeling w a mental attack

Rolls and misses to hit adam

Aerana rolls and kills it with 13 damage

Brings shsw up to get it out of face, appears to be too much for it to take, gasps and recedes to floor then dissipates

Cel's turn w shsw, 6 and does not hit

Other guy doesn't hit either

Badger!asyna rolls 9, doesn't hit, 13 and hits w claws, w 7 damage

Yikes didn't kill twas close tho it's v weak but not dead yet

We notice three guards dressed in the same attire as the dead ones downstairs and they also just straight run out the front door

Theo hits with 7 damage

Kills one of them, slashes and almost does a decapitation but it just reforms bc it's a ghost and then it melts into the floor

Just the one left

Adam's turn to roast it, misses ig, healing words self

Ghost's turn ig, doesn't hit

Aerana rolls 13 to hit, 8 damage; close but doesn't kill (no sneak attack)

Cel's turn, misses

Badger!asyna rolls 19 and 8, both hit; roll for damage, 6 damage

Kills it w claw and smashes it to ground as it fizzles away

The book is open, no other black pages in the book; closes the book and adam puts it into his knapsack

No sound of fighting upstairs

Let's go upstairs w asyna going first ig

Badger lumbers up stairs but it's awkward bc claws were not designed for this

A lot was happening in g13 but now it's like most ppl r dead upstairs

Turn to left w door directly in front left ajar, pushes it more open

Goes into 15a, hears a shout "the city watch is on the way !!" from area g16 but pushes into 15a and sees a small antechamber like a repurposed closet space

We're all in g13 now

Adam is gonna walk into g16

Doors are closed but he's able to open them; two occupants w an older middle-aged human woman w a breastplate carrying a rapier standing next to a half-orc bodyguard in center of the room - looks like well-furnished bedroom

They see him and r staring at adam

"hi . I'm adam . Uhm . These r my friends . We saw a couple of guards and a really bloodied up man in robes run out of this building and we were concerned for its occupants"

Attempting to persuade

Rolls an 8 and it's a bad lie but she's bad at reading people

Has a few daggers and a small crossbow and can see he has it

Puts up rapier and screeches at adam to disarm self

He sets ukulele on floor

"there is no time for jests ! Disarm urself, sir !"

Picks the ukulele back up

"did u see where that thief went"

"I just saw him run out of the building"

"we're all great citizens of waterdeep we just want to make sure ur ok"

Half-orc gives adam a look that could shatter a vase

As we turn to leave, we hear sounds of sobbing inside area 15b

Theo will knock for asyna

Everyone is in g16 except for theo and asyna

Hears sounds of sobbing and then they stop and you hear a voice "no please don't hurt me"

"we're not here to hurt u we just want to make sure ur ok"

"alright ?? Am I alright ??? My life is in dAnGEr"

"adfsjkdfa I'll never tell" mans is a burbling mess

Theo rolls persuasion check at disadvantage, 9

Man says he's armed and will kill if they come in

Back to g16

Cel disarms, u disarm shsw and shbw but keep dagger hidden

Look around the room, looks a little bit in disarray; there's a window w shattered glass and it's raining

U can tell that the window on the far north wall has been shattered

Noble woman tells us to sit

Adam asks if we're in trouble

Adam looks at us then the other ppl

Adam casts pyrotechnics and smoke bombs them, 20 ft of smoke hitting them and we run "beat it guys"

Originally we arrived here bc naya led us here, we're looking for the owner of the necklace

There's smoke in the room just kidding jacob undoes pyrotechnics

Doo do dood o dood o do do do do do doooooooo do do do od ododo dod o do dododo dod o do dod o do do do do

The jeopardy theme song as dom re-summarizes

Ok w that in mind guess we gotta figure out the owner

Back to the other room, there's more sniffling but maybe he needs a therapy!badger

"would u happen to b missing a necklace"

Pause and he goes "necklace ? Well I never"

Insight check, nat1; hard to tell if he's telling the truth or not

Door is locked from the outside

Theo asks if he needs help getting out "nO ur a beast"

Try lockpicking again w thieves' tools check

D20+ proficiency + dex modifier

Gets a 20, picks lock; inside is a bed like a smaller guest bedroom, can hear sniffling behind the bed

"sir we're not here to hurt u . Do u recognize this?"

Theo shows him the necklace, asyna is still a badger, trying to look cute

Making a performance check, gets 14 and tries best to look non-threatening but the balding human man w a rapier in his hand screams when he sees badger!asyna

Theo rolls for persuasion check

Rolls a 6, gets sense it's not someone who's going to respond

Maybe badger!asyna will try to intimidate

Cel realizes the lady is one of the people in the painting

"the lives of my soldiers, the integrity of my home"

"and what about a necklace"

Insight check, flash of shock across her face but she regains composure

We take our weapons back and back out of the room

Badger and theo try scaring with theo making an intimidation check w advantage from badger, rolls 17

Groot survived combat !! I'm gonna make groot bite the dm smh you can try me I'll keep getting dogs as a side quest

Theo says badger is hangry and is threatening w the hangry badger!asyna, theo is standing on the bed

Man immediately drops rapier and starts crying and pleads for his life

"please pls u wouldn't dare I'm crying" OOP THE WOMAN WAS DEALING W THE PPL TEA PUPPET WHERE

Bro the stone what wait

We just want info

Here's what we got

Smth abt half a million dragons

Smth abt the zents fighting the xants

Smth abt being involved w the zents but his wife specifically

Smth abt giving the necklace to "the puppet"

Theo asks abt the puppet

"that's the problem w these stupid things they think for themselves I heard it blew up half a street accidentally" was supposed to go after the gnome but missed

Takes theo's hand "pls u can't kill me I'll tell u - what do u need"

Tells us we gotta go the house of grinda or smth in the dock ward for the puppet

Gains his composure and leaves from hiding behind the bed, takes a piece of paper w a well-done sketch of a strange being

Looks like a contract w a guarantee of quality for a construct

"pls it looks like this don't kill me pls"

Theo takes the paper

We stand up and go from g16, badger and theo see we had left, adam shuts the door

Theo apologizes to the guy

Adam casts sleep on the dude just in case

Makes him sleep w 26, we leave

We look outside and there's a bunch of torchlight by the gate - citywatch ? The inspector is there investigating a murder or disturbance or smth

We book it out of g6 into the street on the opposite side of the mansion

Raining a lot

We walk/speedwalk away, adam makes a general wisdom check for nearby taverns

The yawning portal is in the trades ward, we're in the north ward or we're in the sea ward

We're in one of the wealthy wards

It's raining so much that we have disadvantages on stuff

Are we ?? Riding the badger ???

Could be ridden by halflings ?

Theo and cel ride asyna

We're walking to mirt's ig

Stopping point ? We're dealing w mirt's house next session

We learned some weird info abt the puppet

Oop we're roleplaying that just theo bc asyna is a badger

His wife had business w the zents, they sent the order for the puppet and theo has the plans

And that's that ig

The stone might b real 0.0

"it is truly springtime in waterdeep" w the fog and the rain

Oh we level up ig

#sn #7 #mn #dnd #d&d #wdh #this is a lot #of #breathing

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hoper5x · 4 years

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Fitness

‪This was the end of last week after a week & a half of scarfing down whatever I felt like eating. Cleaning up diet again this week & I’ll update the photo again next week. Sometimes you have to take a break. Don’t punish your body for enjoying life. I learned that the hard way..‬

Don’t be disillusioned by good lighting and poses, my body changes constantly and it’s OKAY. Be safe, be healthy with your choices, but don’t beat yourself up either when you have a difficult spot. Just pick yourself up and keep moving forward. 💪🏼❤️ You CAN do this.

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61 notas

drukhari

Seguiranónimo perguntou:

This might sound silly but you're kind of a referent here and I need some guidance. How do I get stronger? Like I really want to start getting buff but I don't know where should I begin. I'm not overweight but I'm definitely not fit or athletic, especially after spending so many days at home being sedentary. I want to focus on my back and upper body but I can't do a single pull-up/chin-up nor a push-up. So what exercises should I start with? Can you give me some advice? Thank you so much 💜

None of these questions sound silly at all anon, happy to help however I can 💙

So first off, the disclaimer that since I'm not a physical trainer (or have any formal education when it comes to strength training) I'll be supplementing any information described here with links to more knowledgeable resources who can dig deeper into the details.

Here's a good link to start with for some strength training basic info:

https://www.nerdfitness.com/blog/strength-training-101/

You can start building up muscle right at home using bodyweight exercises, and in fact bodyweight workouts are usually recommended as a great place for beginners to start because it allows you to build a base strength level and focus on form, which will reduce the chance of injuries in the future when you might choose to start incorporating equipment like dumbbells or barbells.

With these exercises, your body provides the resistance needed - so you don't have to order any equipment to cycle them into a workout routine. I'd recommend checking out the below links for some good bodyweight exercises to start with, but if you want to check out others as well try Google searching "bodyweight exercises for beginners"!

https://kettlebellsworkouts.com/bodyweight-exercises-for-beginners/

https://www.nerdfitness.com/blog/beginner-body-weight-workout-burn-fat-build-muscle/

Don't worry too much if you're not able to hit all the reps that some online resources recommend right from the start - that's perfectly normal and even the strongest body builders started out at that point once. What's important is to simply try and challenge yourself a little bit more incrementally over time, what that looks like in your own routine can vary. If during one workout you're able to do 5 lunges, and then the next time you try again you get to 6? That's forward progress, and you deserve to celebrate that.

The actual MOST important piece of the equation when trying to build muscle isn't even in the gym - it's nutrition and recovery. People can spend years training like a beast in the gym but if their diet is bad then they just straight up will not see the results, and that can be super frustrating especially when you're trying to really build up strength for the first time. It's important to make sure you're getting plenty of protein in your diet so that your body has the fuel it needs to build up those new muscles as you go - and don't buy into anything out there that recommends just completely dropping carbs from your diet. Carbs are a key part of a balanced diet just like proteins and fats are, and your body will require a healthy amount of all three to properly build itself up. Some good sources of each group that I tend to use in my own diet are below, but you're by no means restricted to these - and of course if you have any dietary restrictions that would prevent you from eating certain foods, then you can always do some Google searches for some ideas for substitutes.

Carbs: Oatmeal, whole grain bread, brown rice, whole grain pasta, fresh fruits like apples, bananas and pineapple (tropical fruits in particular can be part of a great recovery snack post-workout)

Protein: Chicken, tuna, turkey, egg whites, Greek yogurt, low fat string cheese, cottage cheese, whey protein powder

Fats: Nuts like almonds or cashews, olive oil, peanut butter (which could also be counted in the protein category!), salad dressings, avocados

This is not by any means an exhaustive list of options, there are a TON out there so I'd definitely recommend checking out at least a few sources to get a feel for what will work best for you. And of course, if you're in a situation where you don't really have that much control over the grocery list or some items just aren't an option, don't sweat it. With nutrition obviously you want to aim for a strong balance, and maximizing protein however you can, but even just working at cutting out excess sugar sources and junk food from your diet in general will go a long way to helping fitness goals.

https://www.verywellfit.com/meal-timing-for-weight-training-3498426

Aside from nutrition, recovery after a workout is crucial. Pre and post-workout stretches will help prevent injuries, and getting a good night's sleep at the end of the day will be super important to help those muscles you worked out during the day to properly recover and grow. When coming up with a workout schedule, you'll want to also make sure that you're not working the same muscle groups on consecutive days because then you're not giving those muscles enough time to recover and you'll inhibit their growth as a result (also risking injury!)

For just starting out, try to aim for doing some exercises 2-3 days out of the week for 20 minutes (though it's ok if you're not able to train for that long early on, it's something to aim for then!), so this way even if you're doing a full body workout (meaning you're doing exercises that target all the different muscle groups instead of just picking one or two groups per day) then you will still have at least 1 down time day between workouts for those muscles to recover.

Now that I've just dropped that huge wall of text (including links with even more text haha) I think I'll wrap things up. Again, I'm by no means an expert and part of the reason I tend to ramble a bit when it comes to fitness advice is because I made a TON of mistakes early on when I was starting my own fitness journey, some that cost literally years of progress, and I don't want other people to encounter those same pitfalls. It can be tough sometimes, especially when you're getting started and you're looking for those gains in the mirror after the first couple of weeks, but don't give up on yourself - as long as you stick with it and keep making moves forward towards where you wanna be, even if those moves are just baby steps some days, then I guarantee you'll get there.

Wishing you the best of luck in your own fitness journey, anon. You've got this! 👍

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#food mention

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#also if any followers who do strength training want to add links or resources - feel free

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dailyfitnessgirls

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10k for my virtual Fiesta Fenzy run!

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Thea Renee Schuler

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thinking about how vulnerable this time has made me and how many big topics i wish to discuss with all 20K of u. hope u will let me open up the conversation soon ✨ let's get open n real with each other ok?

#me

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#fitfam

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#plant based

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#alice matos

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#Lateral Sprint

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geneticallymodifiednerd

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Today's workout brought to you by my cute hamster shirt!

2 miles walked on the VACANT Greenway this morning. 🎉 Shout out to the rain and chill for scaring all the people away! 😂

Then got in my core workout and some yoga!

(I even applied for a job today 😬)

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Missing family time during this quarantine🤍

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#motivation

#inspiration

#love

#selfie

#healthy

#workout

#family

#fitness

#smile

30 notas

dovecameron-updates

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#dove cameron

#style

#fashion

#beauty

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majesticfit

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#fitness

#Tommy Hilfiger

#Under Armour

#cute boys

#rear view

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majesticfit

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#cute boys

#fitness

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gotta-be-skinny-for-me

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#skinny

#fit

#fitness

#healthy

#fitspo

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gymbunnyamber

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#Bicycle Crunch

#Girl

#Gym

#Fit

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#Exercise

#Workout

#Fitspo

#Fitblr

#Ponytail

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gotta-be-skinny-for-me

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#skinny

#fit

#fitness

#healthy

#fitspo

59 notas

gymbunnyamber

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#Running

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#Exercise

#Girl

#Outdoors

#Workout

29 notas

thatbrownsolution

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Training Accessories and PR. Mga huling araw bago nag close yung gym namin.

Isang buwan na din akong home workout ngayon pero kahit papano kaya naman i-maintain ng weighted push ups at pull ups. Hindi din advisable sakin mag calorie deficit lalo na at walang training na maayos. Kaya calorie maintenance para ma preserve kahit papano ang pinaghirapan hehe. On point din ang macro nutrition.

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#fitness

#asian

23 notas

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31 notas

fitaleeex

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Tagged by @one-day-at-a-time365 !! ❤️ it’s only 3pm, but I’m working until 10pm from home so basically my day is over 😂 but this morning I woke up early and went for a walk by the ocean with my boyfriend. We went for a nice drive as well. Got Starbucks. I recently got a meal plan and workout plan made for me so I did my first workout from that. I played a little bit of animal crossing and then started work!

I feel like today was relatively productive. It was nice getting exercise early in the morning, especially because my walk was beside the ocean 😌

I nominate @callmenic0 and @suvisfitness !

What have you been up to today? 💕

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#me

#health

#fitness

#motivation

#fitspo

#ocean

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dailyfitnessgirls

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#fitness

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regularninjafit

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IG taneth.fit

Sexy and Fit

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transboyz

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here's a fun thing i do every morning before i shower, i find it really helps my dysphoria

I stretch, and do a couple yoga poses like the downward dog, the cat and the side plank. Then I do some weightlifting. Currently 1kg an arm, doing 120 reps each arm. Then I do around 50 sit-ups. After that I'll shower, get dressed, and put leg weights on which I walk around in for about half an hour.

I really feel like it's really helping me get more muscley, even more so on testosterone. Knowing I have that muscle and feeling it makes me feel way more masc and as though I pass as male. It affirms this in my head. Then I feel really good about myself for the whole day :-)

#workout

#advice

#fitness

#dysphoria

#trans man

#trans boy

#transition

#trans

#transgender

#trans guy

#trans ftm

#ftm hrt

#ftm transman

#ftm

#trans masc

#trans mlm

#trans male

#trans lgbt

#lgbt

#lgbtq

#lgbtqa

… Ver todas

72 notas

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byjayr-blog · 5 years

Text

Divine Femininity, Power of Her Aura - Ella.

I’ve been in the arts and music industry for about 4 years or so now, and inevitably saw how the rise of women in the creative industry hasn’t been getting as much attention, so I’ve decided to start a series based on women all around the world who are in the creative industry. I ask them to share their story with me (and you :) ) as to how they got to where they are today. The series will introduce a new divine woman once a month, as my first post to this series I’d like to introduce July’s divine woman my friend Ella.

Ella is a Fashion Model currently based in Montreal, I’ve asked her to share her story with me, enjoy.

byjayr - Walk me through your story, and can you recount any specific pivotal moments (as much description as you can remember on where you were and how you were feeling)?

Ella - My story is a long one. I guess it’s not just one story at all, there’s a lot of events and challenges that have led me to where I am today. For this interview I’m going to specifically talk about the part of my story that concerns the journey I’ve been on regarding my physical appearance & health.

I’m not really sure how to start this, so I guess I’ll start at the baseline. I was a happy person. Grew up without financial burdens in a suburban white family. I kept honours in all of my classes at school, loved theatre, had very high muscle strength for my size from ballet & gymnastics, was super fit and healthy, conventionally attractive person. Everything changed in November of 2011 when I had to become a tough bag of knuckle and grit, being flown by air ambulance to Halifax for an extremely rare auto-immune disease (Rapidly Progressive Glomerulonephritis) that had given me stage 5 (end stage) kidney failure. I was a young body filled with dreams but my body disagreed with me. You lose a lot of trust in yourself when your own body turns on you.

For the first three months or so of my sickness I was undergoing chemotherapy as a method of trying to suppress and reboot my immune system in order to get my kidneys to work again. During this time, I had huge diet restrictions (basically all I could eat was white bread, gummy bears and water) and became extremely malnourished. On top of that, I was on high dose steroids with horrible side effects, making me extremely weak. All I know is that I spent the last hours of 2011 sitting on the floor, staring at my legs, being astonished by skinny they were. I was strangely proud of how undernourished and skeletal they were, I had always wished I had the will power to intentionally be that skinny- but that’s another story. Both physically and mentally my functions were imbecilic. That night I blacked out and received the a blood transfusion that saved my life, but gave me a rash from hell. Physically, you honestly couldn’t recognize me.

The transfusion helped me in gaining my strength back from the months of crawling on the ground like a helpless baby. Despite my new found dividend of health, everything I was going through at this point made me ugly. Chemotherapy had taken away my thick, luscious locks of strawberry blonde, it took away all of my fingernails and toenails. The rash that covered me head to toe was gruesome. My entire body kept shedding it’s skin like a snake, leaving behind fragile pink tender skin that wasn’t even ready to be exposed to air. I felt like an unflattering cardboard cutout of an ugly caricature of myself.

I stopped leaving the house for a solid chunk of my precious time. Alone and sad, waiting for the day I could finally close my eyes for the last time. I don’t think I saw anyone but my family and my friend Mia for at least three months. No photos exist of this time. Evidently this made it hard for me to keep up with my then “boyfriend”. In fact, I remember him asking if I’d take him back when I recovered, but all I said was “I’m not getting better”, and proceeded to ignore him. I couldn’t accept that he had the nerve to still adore me, I was so painstakingly un-sexual. How dare he want to kiss me. I knew I was no longer the girl who was all the perfect fashion, and eventually I really started to mourn for myself. I would never be glamorous, I thought, but at this point I desperately sought being able to be something completely ordinary and unremarkable. Staring at my familiar, tragic limbs- I believed my cold pink hands would never again feel pretty.

One very vivid memory I always think about is when I left to go to the mall for the first time since being sick. I slathered on a coat of the makeup watching actual centimetre parcels of skin peel like a million meaty sunburns that oozed out makeup. I started peeling and picking off the scabs but the more I peeled the more I bled. I came to the conclusion that I would have to peel off my entire face if I wanted to even out the texture of it, so I gave up. I slathered it in vaseline to glue the drooping flakes back onto my face in attempts to mimmic a smoothness and then used half the bottle of foundation to even out the colour. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror for what felt like hours. My face was the texture of a golfball; but more uneven and porous. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t even close to me. Even my eyes had grown so passive, my lids that were once a flirting device batted still- but with their sparsely fallen out lashes they were so dim, so dead.

By late February of 2012, they realized my kidneys just weren’t going to start working from the chemotherapy. They stopped the chemo and I was put on peritoneal dialysis. In a nut shell, that means they put a tube in my belly, the tube connected to a machine every night at home and ran for 8-12 hours, depending on what the circumstances were. Essentially, dialysis does the work for your kidneys, but its more of a temporary thing, and as I found out the hard way, it has lots of complications. Years went by and I had plenty of brushes with death. Plenty more stories to be told about that. But this story is about the growing pains of my confidence & beauty, not my psychical pain.

It’s 2019 and it’s been five and a half years since I received my life saving kidney transplant. My mind has a weird complex built up around how I see myself in the mirror. I often find myself comparing myself to who I was before I ever got sick. I have this way of idealizing who I was before the sickness came, and I’m always seeing the world through rose coloured lenses when I think about my childhood. Sometimes I take a look at myself in the mirror and it’s really hard. I’m so quick to notice how frayed I am at the edges like I’m some kind of hand-me-down lace. Sometimes I just feel like all of my bones are too old for me, that they creak like a dusty house full of empty photo albums because I lost so much opportunity to fill them up with all the teenage memories I had to miss out on. People tell my all of these experiences make me strong but for the most part I just find myself thinking they make me heavy. I had to grow up too fast and it hurts. It hurts but it’s going to be okay. The ocean is fucking heavy, mountains are fucking heavy, but they’re so perfect and beautiful and that’s all I should be seeing about myself too.

Today I feel secure, complex, and empowered. Maybe I won’t tomorrow, but taking things day by day is the best way I’ve learned to navigate through this world. There will always be people who take me for face value & my looks alone. It takes serious courage to love yourself in a world, in an infrastructure strategically set up to make people who have suffered trauma feel isolated, unworthy, and heavy. The caliber of experience I have endured has done nothing but expand my emotional intelligence, even if it isolates me. Our dominant culture is filled with violent myths. Break them.

J - What inspired you to do what you love?

E - The internet, contemporary situations, and people I surround myself with can be a source of inspiration/influence, but they can also be a huge form of intimidation/comparison. I used to try so hard to impress people but ultimately it just created huge insecurity blocks. Seeing other people competing for acceptance is toxic. I think it’s important to keep some things to yourself. Deconstruct the social construct of what “talent” is. You don’t have to cater to other people. The world doesn’t have to be this finite, limited space you think it is. Don’t let people devalue your creative ability and worth just because they don’t understand it. It’s their loss. My mom is the biggest loner I know and she inspires me every day. I think I work best alone and I get that from her. Maybe this sounds selfish to you but I think that more than anything, I inspire myself. My life has been one dark struggle after another and somehow I crawl my way out of it every time. I’m strong enough now to realize that being alone isn’t a bad thing at all. Isolation breeds individuality. Once I realized that, the world became a safer place for me.

J - What do you find yourself daydreaming about, and can you recount a specific daydream you’ve been having lately?

E - I want to be somewhere new. I’m so tired of Montreal. I dream of being somewhere where absolutely nobody knows my name or where I’m from or how I got there. I don’t want to talk about myself. I want to learn about other people. To get inspired by them. Lately I’ve been working on music lots. It’s something I’m really passionate about and I can’t wait to share it with people who are open to listening. All I daydream about is being somewhere warm and somewhere exciting. The last few years have been really hard on me. I struggle with a lot of issues that I’m not going to delve into right now, but my biggest dream is just to be happy. To be able to look at myself and be proud, and to make my friends & family proud too. Life moves really fast and I’m making lots of changes. Things are changing for the better, I have to believe they will. <3

Thank you Ella for sharing your inspirational and moving story! <3

Come back next month to see August’s Divine Femininity. :)

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thatishogwash · 6 years

Text

No Regrets

Super, super late with this!

Haikyuu!! OT3+ Week 2018

Day 6, November 2 : future / the parents

AO3

Sawamura hauls a body onto his bed and barely resists rubbing the back of his neck to try and alleviate some of the tension he’s holding there. His hands are caked in mud and blood and he doesn’t want to wipe that all over himself despite it already covering his front. He takes a couple deep breath before setting himself into motion. He runs a tavern and while it’s mostly visited by the folks from the town down the mountain a few wandering souls, sometimes it’s remoteness attracts a certain rougher crowd. He’s had to take care of a few wounds in his time as the owner of it.

Sawamura’s parents probably wouldn’t even be surprised by him bringing home the bleeding and unconscious stranger. He was always prone to bringing home strays, though they always tended to be more on the animal variety. He tries to imagine what faces they would make if they had still been alive and their adult son had dragged a wounded stranger through their tavern. They would yell but ultimately they would end up helping, it was the sort of people they were. The sort of person they raised their son to be.

Setting his items down by the bed Sawamura’s fingers trembled slightly before he reached out to remove the heavy cloak covering the majority of the stranger, all except his bare and dirty feet. Sawamura was only partially surprised by the double wings held down by some sort of leather harness. The stranger was dirty but he looked rather young, not that it mattered much. Sawamura had met creatures who were thousands of years old and looked like children the same way hunched over, wrinkly elderly looking people were actually children. The universe was a large place.

“You’re alright now, you’re safe.” Sawamura said as soothingly as he could when the strangers brows bunched together and he let out a soft noise of distress. There was a long cut across his abdomen that was the source of all the blood. It looked worse than it was, long but only skin deep and hadn’t cut into any muscle of tissue. Sawamura continued to speak softly, he wasn’t sure if the stranger spoke the same language as him but the tone seemed to be soothing him. It was easy to patch him up but took longer to pull off the dirty and torn rags. Usually Sawamura wouldn’t take such liberties with anyone who wasn’t awake to consent, but he was wet and shivering and the clothes barely covered much of anything to begin with.

Something shiny caught Sawamura’s eye and he turned from grabbing some of his own, clean clothes. He had been so worried by the wound and getting the stranger out of the wet clothes and dry that he hadn’t noticed the golden band around his neck. Sawamura hadn’t travelled very far from home, he had gone into the city for schooling before his parents died and left the mountainside space tavern for him to take care of. But even he knew what a service band looked like. Such an inconspicuous name for something so vile.

Sawamura quickly put the clean clothes onto the stranger before pulling blankets on top of him. The dirtied blanket the stranger had rested on went to the floor but Sawamura had plenty. He carefully used a cloth to clean the strangers dirty face, his eyes catching on the service band once more.

The small planet Sawamura had spent his entire life on was considered a backwoods planet, but they were mostly civilized here. There was a bigger port on the other side of the planet but some travellers stopped by the tavern for some peace and quiet, plus the food wasn’t so bad either. It wasn’t very busy at the tavern but Sawamura still had never seen a service band in the 25 years he had been alive. He knew they were a thing of the past, had learned about them in school for a brief period before they jumped to the next thing.

Service bands were mostly outlawed, though considering some of his regulars belonged to the crew of the Bakeneko and while they never discussed their business outright, Sawamura could guess they weren’t exactly on the up and up. Even they would cringe away from something as cruel as a service band.

Sawamura cleaned himself off in the small bathroom attached to his room, changing out of his dirtied clothes before walking back into his room. He stared down at the stranger, at the white and black hair that was curling against a strong face now that it was drying.

Sawamura didn’t know what to do but he did know one person he could go to. He pulled out his personal comm unit from the wall, glancing over to make sure the stranger is still sleeping before he types in a familiar number. He doesn’t let himself think twice as he relays a simple message to Iwaizumi, apologizing and asking if he could stop by the tavern when he had a moment. Iwaizumi is the local peace officer and they had known each other since they were teenagers. Sawamura feels as if he should add more to the message but he ends it quickly when he feels the back of his neck start to warm and turns back to the stranger in his bed.

The stranger is still unconscious and Sawamura chews nervously on his bottom lip as he stares down at him. His face has smoothed out and he looks more like he’s just resting, some color has even returned to his pale cheeks. The service band is now hidden by the sweater Sawamura put him in and the two blankets he piled on top of him.

An alarm beeps, warning Sawamura that he has ten minutes to open the tavern. He thinks about hanging an apology on the door, saying a pipe burst or something along those lines but he has bills to pay and the stranger doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere. Still, Sawamura leans over.

“You’re safe to rest here.” Sawamura tells the stranger, feeling a little silly for doing so. He walks out of his room and closes the door quietly behind him before heading downstairs.

Everything about the old tavern reminds Sawamura of his parents from the hand carved table and chairs to the trim with pretty colored flowers along the ceiling. They had made this place themselves, built it from the ground up and made it into the thriving business it was today. Sawamura sometimes missed them so much he found it difficult to breath but going about opening the tavern helped, the actions that he did every day drove away the loneliness.

Sawamura was warming up the ovens in the back, his father had insisted on ones that actually used fire instead of warming electrically like most modern ones, when he heard the door open and close. Voices floated in and Sawamura easily picked out the tones of his normal regulars from town.

It was easy and comforting to fall into his usual routine. Going to the bar to grab drinks before checking on the cooking food in the kitchen. Some of the regulars who had known him since he was little always told him to hire some help and he did have a cook come in during the weekends when it was busier but during the slow weekdays he could handle everything fine on his own.

Until the door opened, letting in the howling wind and the constant rain. The regulars tensed automatically at the newcomers before Sawamura called out a greeting and told the familiar crew of the Bakeneko to sit where they’d like. It was like he had summoned them by thinking of them earlier.

It wasn’t half a minute before the captain of the motley crew found himself near Sawamura, leaning over the bar as Sawamura prepared a drink for the old bookkeeper who always came in for a couple beverages after his shifts. Sawamura allowed himself a quick glance into amber colored eyes before looking away.

“I’ll be with you in a mo’ to take your orders.” Sawamura said, a bit more gruff than he usually was with other patrons. The Bakeneko captain only smirked at Sawamura’s attitude.

“Take your time love, I’m in no rush.” Kuroo propped his head up in his hand, elbow placed on the bar and smirk firmly in place. Sawamura resisted the urge to do something childish like pour a drink over his ridiculously messy black hair.

Kuroo and his crew had been coming to the tavern pretty much since Sawamura inherited it. Mostly Sawamura didn’t mind. Despite the crews less than savory reputation they were respectful with only a few members being louder than the rest and they had never tried to skip out on a bill before. They didn’t make a mess and they kept mostly to themselves, which was more than Sawamura could say for their captain.

Sawamura would probably treat Kuroo to a friendly but unfriendly attitude if they hadn’t met when they were younger. Back when Kuroo was all knobby knees with ears and hands too big for the rest of his skinny frame. He worked as a deckboy on a ship come to port, Sawamura had been in the city with his father when the skinny boy had come running past. Sawamura, without really thinking of the consequences, had grabbed him and hidden him in the cart that held the supplies his dad was buying.

Sawamura didn’t really agree with thieving but he knew there were situations where he’d do it if he wasn’t so loved and cared for by his parents. He knew others weren’t as lucky, knew from Kuroo’s dirty face and hands rubbed raw from hard labor that even if he had a job it didn’t pay well enough to help him put on any weight. His father had only raised an eyebrow at Sawamura before pushing some warm bread and cheese into his hands, then he had walked off into another store. Sawamura peaked into the cart, handing over the food to a boy with sunken cheeks and large amber colored eyes, and told him to lay low.

Impulsivity wasn’t exactly an admirable trait but it was something that Sawamura was prone to bouts to. Hiding thieving little boys and carting off wounded strangers to his room. He didn’t know if his parents would be proud or worried, perhaps both.

For years after that initial interaction where Kuroo didn’t say a single word, they didn't see each other. Not until Sawamura was left a seemingly too large and too quiet tavern, where every corner and window reminded him of what he had lost. Kuroo and the crew of the Bakeneko had come barrelling in, asking for drinks and something warm to fill their stomachs.

They didn’t show up often, but Kuroo never missed the anniversary of Sawamura’s parents death. Always staying to share drinks even after the tavern had closed. Sawamura always woke up the next morning, head hurting but his spirit feeling lighter, curled up in bed with the other man. Sawamura would probably have kicked him off the side off the mountain but they were always dressed.

Sawamura would never admit to liking waking up beside what was essentially a pirate captain.

Sawamura took orders, the Bakeneko could always be counted on to clear out his kitchen. Yaku would beg Sawamura to join the crew as their cook, that he couldn’t another burnt piece of meat or hard as rock bread. Fukunaga would use his hands and fingers to talk to Yamamoto, who would throw his head back and laugh. Inuoka would offer to bring food back to Kozume, who always stayed on the ship, and inevitably Shibayama and Lev would run after him, Kai reminding them to bring back the plates. Kuroo would watch on with too clever amber eyes, those same eyes lingering on Sawamura where ever he was.

It was nearing the end of the night and Sawamura was wiping down the bar, smiling as the last of his regulars called out a farewell. He had momentarily run upstairs throughout the night, checking on his guest to make sure he was still there and breathing regularly. He had received a message back from Iwaizumi, that he would be coming over after his shift ended, when the tavern was closed down.

The majority of the Bakeneko had wandered back to their ship. Sawamura idly wondered when the next time he’d see them would be as he gathered used dishes and walked back to the kitchen. He gave out a sigh when he realized Kuroo had snuck back, leaning against the counter and stealing a bowl of soup.

“You’re going to pay for that.” Sawamura stated firmly, putting the dishes into the washer.

“Oh?” Kuroo asked, eyebrow raised.

“With money.” Sawamura said, ignoring Kuroo’s exaggerated pout.

“So, what has got you all tense and stressed out tonight?” Kuroo asked casually and Sawamura couldn’t really hide his reaction at the sudden question. Kuroo was watching him far too closely to try and deny it, but it wasn’t like Sawamura was going to admit to having someone in his bed upstairs.

“The usual.” Sawamura said with a shrug but from the look on Kuroo’s face he clearly wasn’t buying it.

Sawamura thanked the stars above when he heard someone else enter the tavern and walked out to greet them. Sawamura wasn’t usually one to judge looks, the nearby town was full of a rough looking crowd though mostly they were harmless. But something about the three figures that walked into the tavern made Sawamura tense all over.

“Hello,” Sawamura greeted, trying to shake off the foreboding feeling. “I’m afraid the kitchen is closed for the night but we do still have some hot soup.” Sawamura went to go get the soup they offered, nearly running right into Kuroo as he stepped into the kitchen.

“That’s not your usual lot, is it?” Kuroo asked, voice low.

“All sorts come through here, some more unsavory than others.” Sawamura said just as low, using his finger to push Kuroo back so he could get soup for his new patrons.

“That hurts.” Kuroo’s bottom lip juts out and Sawamura finds himself briefly wondering how this man was considered a feared pirate captain. “I’m only trying to help.” Sawamura snickers as he balances the three bowls in his hands.

“I don’t need any of the kind of help you’re offering.” Sawamura breezes past him and his heart gives a quick drop when he realizes there are only two at the table now. He places the bowls down carefully before a sound distracts him and he walks over to the swinging door that lead to the stairs and upstairs. “Excuse me, guests aren’t allowed upstairs.” Sawamura says, catching the third patron half way up the stairs. He turns and grimaces, or smiles, Sawamura isn’t quite sure because his body is insectoid-like, the mandible twitching on his face in a way Sawamura wasn’t familiar enough to read.

“Pardon, just looking for the bathroom.” Sawamura motioned behind him, where the bathroom was clearly marked. Plus he kept the door to the stairs locked at all times.

When Sawamura walked out of the swinging doors he saw Kuroo gathering the few members of his crew that were still in the tavern. His heart gave a twist as Kuroo gave him a short nod before walking out the door with Yaku and Nobuyuki following him. Sawamura told himself it didn’t matter, that there was no reason for him to want Kuroo’s presence in the tavern. That he was a distraction and Sawamura could easily handle any problem that arose.

None of it helped. He felt betrayed that Kuroo would note the trouble the new comers presented then would just leave Sawamura to it. He knew it wasn’t logical and he berated himself silently for it but it was still there, sitting cold and hard inside his chest.

Despite his initial hesitation about the new patrons, they ate their soup in relatively silence, paid, and left as quietly as they had come. Sawamura locked the door behind them with a relieved sigh, feeling like an idiot for making such a big deal out of nothing. He began closing down, the routine of it welcome.

A noise startled Sawamura out stacking the chairs and he looked up. He ran up the stairs, his heart beating loudly in his ears once again before pausing outside the door. He took a deep, calming breath and reminded himself that whatever it was, he could handle it. He slowly opened the door and wasn’t surprised to see his new guest sitting up in bed.

Gold colored eyes, so bright and foreign that Sawamura could even make out in the dim lighting of the room the brilliant coloring, looked at Sawamura. It was the first time that Sawamura recognized that this stranger was quite a bit bigger than him no matter how wounded they were.

“Hello,” Sawamura said, glad his voice didn’t come out as shaky as he felt. Gold eyes blinked at him before the tension in the room noticeably dropped. “Did you reopen your wound?” Sawamura asked because the stranger was holding his stomach and there was a growing dark spot on the borrowed sweater.

“I know your voice.” The stranger said, tone surprisingly light for such a large man. “I heard it in the darkness. You said I was safe.” His eyes darted around the room while Sawamura remained in the doorway.

“You are safe here.” Sawamura said before taking a hesitant step into his own bedroom. “Can I see the wound on your stomach?” He asked, making sure to keep it a question and not an order. Gold eyes, heavily lidded in almost a lazy way, looked at him before lifting up the borrowed sweater obidenantly.

Sawamura moved forward slowly, watching for any sign that the stranger might lash out but he just sat still, holding the sweater up and watching Sawamura as he carefully applied more medi-cream to the wound. It sealed the wound once more and he wrapped it in a new bandage.

“My name is Sawamura Daichi and you’re in my tavern.” Sawamura said, sitting back on his heels as he looked up at the stranger. He smoothed the sweater back over his stomach, playing with the hem for a moment before giving Sawamura a shy look.

“You can call me Bokuto.” The band must be activated by his full name.

“I have a friend coming, he’s going to help you.” Sawamura put his hands up when he realized Bokuto was panicking. “I trust him, you can trust him too. I’ve known him for a long time.” Iwaizumi was rough around the edges but he was soft inside, prone to helping anyone who needed it. He had been quickly rising up in the ranks of the military before he resigned and took a position in the sleepy little town he had grown up in. Sawamura never asked what brought him back, he was only glad he decided to come back.

“Okay.” Bokuto breathes out, trusting Sawamura’s call, just like that. It makes Sawamura feel suddenly weak against him and he fights against himself, scrambling for a way to distract him from that.

“Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I can go-” Sawamura is cut off when Bokuto reaches out, suddenly grabbing his arm and Sawamura inhales sharply at how quick Bokuto is.

“Please don’t.” Bokuto pleads, face so close that Sawamura can catch the different flecks of yellow and browns in his eyes.

“You can come with me.” Sawamura offers, gently removing Bokuto’s hand from his arm. He hadn’t hurt him, but it was a strong, firm grip. Sawamura was momentarily surprised by how cold Bokuto’s hand was and he wrapped his warmer one around his longer fingers.

Bokuto followed Sawamura willingly, his head whipping around to catch sight of everything. Sawamura found it absurdly adorable if a bit dramatic. There wasn’t much to see, but then again he didn’t know what sort of life Bokuto had led before Sawamura dragged him here. Sawamura wanted to know what happened to Bokuto, how he came to be here and he knew Iwaizumi would need to know the answer to those questions but he was hesitant to bring up something that could distress Bokuto.

There was no more soup left but Sawamura could make cold sandwiches. He let go of Bokuto once they reached the kitchen and started to pull out some meat and bread before turning to Bokuto.

“Do you eat meat?” Sawamura asked. It was part of his job to be aware of dietary restrictions, he should have asked before. By the way Bokuto was eyeing the food in Sawamura’s hands he could make a guess at the answer, and assumed it had been a while since Bokuto had eaten.

“Yes, meats good.” Bokuto nodded enthusiastically, pressing against Sawamura’s back as he turned to the counter to prepare a sandwich. Given Bokuto’s size he would probably eat a couple. “Thank you Sawamura, you’re very kind.” Bokuto smiled hesitantly but Sawamura could tell even by the slight smile that when Bokuto really smiled, it would be a blinding thing.

“That must be my friend.” Sawamura said after he had heard a brisk knock on the front door. He handed the sandwich over to Bokuto before walking through the main dining room to the entrance.

Sawamura frowned into the darkness that greeted him when he opened the door, no sign of Iwaizumi anywhere. Perhaps he had gone around to the back door? But Iwaizumi wasn’t so impatient he wouldn’t wait a moment for Sawamura to answer the door. Something shifted in the distance and Sawamura heard his name being yelled but it was too late.

The tavern came with rudimentary protective shields. Mostly it was to discourage any fighting from inside or near the outside of the tavern. Most public buildings had it, even modern houses came standard with them. It was this shield that probably saved Sawamura’s life, though it wasn’t built to withstand a full attack.

Sawamura flew backwards, slamming into the bar on the opposite side of the room made his breath rush out of him. Tables were upturned, chairs were broken, and the front door was left hanging from one hinge. Sawamura couldn’t seem to take in a proper breath, his ears felt clogged with cotton, and he was having trouble focusing his sight.

Strong but cold hands grabbed at him, forced him up and to the kitchen right before another blast hit the front of the tavern. The lights flickered before going out completely, the shields dying along with them. Sawamura knew there was something wrong with his hearing but even he could hear the old wood creaking and groaning. The tavern was purposefully built on the side of the mountain, the docks reaching out into nothingness so ships could easily pull up without having to actually land. The tavern had been made to withstand category one storms, the wooden facade was only meant to look worn and rustic, underneath was hardened steel and metal.

With a hard pop Sawamura’s hearing returned to him just in time to hear something break from the upstairs, the sound of heavy booted feet. Sawamura turned to see Bokuto’s pale and frightened face, his hands were still holding Sawamura up.

“Back door, we have to go out the back.” Sawamura said, his voice raspy. Something was making it difficult for him to get a good breath in and it hurt to exhale and he couldn’t quite move his left shoulder but it was all things he could deal with later. He pulled Bokuto towards the back door after grabbing a frying pan, ignored the lace of pain from his knee.

The back door cracked down the middle, the lacy little curtain his mother had sown to cover the small window turned black, as if burnt. A figure burst through the door and Sawamura released Bokuto and with a yell pulled from the pit of his stomach, swung the frying pan into the person standing there. The hit vibrated down Sawamura’s arm and with a grunt he kicked the figure away, grabbing backwards for Bokuto before running out the door.

Sawamura had never even raised a hand in violence towards another and now he had walked over a crumbled body of a person he had savagely hit and kicked. He left that body in the same spot he had played with little toy figures when he was younger, it had been the perfect spot that was out of the way but he could tilt his body one way to see his father in the kitchen and then another to see his mother go from table to table, talking with each guest as if they were lifelong friends.

Bokuto grabbed Sawamura, yanking him to the side right before something streaked past them. Wood and metal exploded behind them and Sawamura’s heart picked up its pace inside his chest, realizing that could have been him. That could have been his body breaking to pieces from a long distance hit.

Sawamura looked up and watched as a familiar motorcycle slammed into the figure that had been aiming their gun at Sawamura once more. Bokuto hovered over Sawamura’s body as someone ran over to them, the rain covering up their heavy steps.

“No, Bokuto, stop.” Sawamura patted at the larger man, finally gaining his attention. “That’s my friend, that’s Iwaizumi, he’s safe.” Bokuto finally seemed to understand and allowed Sawamura to finally get up from the mud. All three of them were soaked, Iwaizumi’s eyes were wide as he finally caught up to them, looking Sawamura up and down but it was too dark to see anything.

“What the fuck is going on Daichi?” Iwaizumi asked, hand coming up to cup Sawamura’s face. Sawamura winced, not remembering how his face had bounced off the floor until right then. Before Sawamura could respond a ship appeared above them, nearly dropping on top of them. Iwaizumi pulled his gun up, Sawamura hadn’t even seen it in his other hand.

“That’s the Bakeneko!” Sawamura shouted above the rain, shocked. Were they being attacked by Kuroo and his crew? Why?

“Hurry, get on board!” A rope was tossed down. The ship started to take on fire but their shields reflected most of them. The noise was deafening and Sawamura’s heart was in his throat but he pushed Iwaizumi and Bokuto forward. Both made Sawamura go first and he climbed while trying to ignore the pain his body was in and how slippery the rungs were with the constant rain. Hands grabbed him, pulling him over the side of the ship.

“They are bringing ‘round their ship!” Someone called as Bokuto was dropped next to Sawamura then a second later Iwaizumi hopped over.

“Everyone onboard captain!” Yaku shouted from next to Sawamura.

“Get them below deck.” Kuroo’s voice cut through the rain before shouting more orders at his crew. Sawamura was pulled up, not roughly but not exactly gently either. But Sawamura caught something over the side of the ship.

Sawamura broke from the hold on him, leaning against the railing of the ship to see his tavern ablaze and crumbling in on itself. The home and business his parents had worked so hard to build was burning down before his eyes. They had been so proud of it, every childhood memory Sawamura had was attached to that place.

A light flashed, bright and blinding in the night. Sawamura watched in horror as his home was cut in half, the top sliding away before falling off the side of the mountain. He shouted, he wasn’t sure what but nothing would stop the second hit that sent the rest of him crumbling down.

The ship swung away before shooting up into the sky. Sawamura could no longer see his home but he knew that didn’t matter since there was his home was no longer there to see.

Sawamura was taken below deck. Everything passed by in a blur. One moment he was standing on the deck of the Bakeneko, watching the planet he had never left grow smaller in the distance and the next his eyes were too heavy to hold open and he was falling down.

It felt as if Sawamura had blinked and everything was different. He could hear people speaking but it sounded like it was coming through a long tunnel. He felt stiff and sore all over but there was something warm surrounding him, his face was buried in it.

“-bounty hunters don’t really care about things like that.” Kuroo’s voice was the first clear thing Sawamura could make out. It took him another minute before realizing the reason he was so warm was because he was curled up in bed with something pressed against his front. A faint trilling noise was coming from the person holding him, it was oddly comforting even though Sawamura was still fighting his confusion.

“It doesn’t matter if they care about it or not, it’s still illegal and-” Iwaizumi’s voice was tight with barely concealed anger.

“And what? You don’t work for the military anymore lieutenant, they won’t come to some backwoods planet because some bounty hunters destroyed a pub.” Kuroo stated simply, cutting Iwaizumi off. Sawamura sucked in a deep breath, his tavern crumbling before his eyes once more.

“Sawamura.” A face with big golden eyes was pushed into his. “They drugged you.” Bokuto said, sounding angry.

“He was hurt and in shock Bo, I keep telling you this.” Kuroo’s voice said, coming out much softer. “Let him breath.” Bokuto held Sawamura tighter for a moment before letting out a soft breath and releasing him. Sawamura sat up slowly and looked around the room. Three pairs of eyes looked back at him with varying levels of concern.

“So,” Sawamura looked at each of them. “Weird day, huh?” He tried for light but fell short. Iwaizumi sat on the bed, his hand was a warm comfort down the length of Sawamura’s back.

“I’m sorry Sawamura, they destroyed your home because of me.” Bokuto ducked his head, ashamed but it was surprisingly Kuroo who spoke up.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine.” Kuroo rubbed Bokuto’s head and Sawamura was surprised by the familiarity of the action. “I was supposed to pick up Bokuto from someone I thought I could trust, but he went turncoat and tried to sell Bokuto back. I knew who those bounty hunters were when they came into your tavern and I decided to wait to see what they did.” Kuroo met Sawamura’s eyes, accepting full blame and not trying to make excuses for himself.

“It’s fine.” Sawamura said, shocking all three of them. He tried a smile to ease their worries. “Helping someone, helping Bokuto is way more important than a building. My parents would never have sacrificed someone for their home. It’s neither of yours fault.” Sawamura reached out to squeeze both Bokuto and Kuroo’s noses, earning a grin from the former and a fake snap of teeth from the latter. “I am sorry I pulled you into this.” Sawamura turned to Iwaizumi, who was watching everything with clear interest.

“I’m not.” Iwaizumi said with a shrug before nudging his shoulder against Sawamura’s. “I told you before to call me, for anything and I meant it.”

“Me too.” Kuroo said suddenly, practically sitting in Iwaizumi’s lap so he could push into Sawamura’s space. Iwaizumi gave an annoyed grunt but didn’t dump the lanky man onto the ground. “I meant it when I said I’d help you.”

“I’ll protect you.” Bokuto promised, fingers curling against Sawamura’s. “Because you saved me and made me feel safe.” He smiled and Sawamura was right, it was blinding.

Sawamura knew it wasn’t going to be that easy and the three before him were going to cause him more trouble before the day was done but he couldn’t find himself minding much. There was a hollow spot in his chest that had been there since his parents had died, it ached and reminded him constantly of how he was missing something, something crucial. This was the first time that the ache had receded, if just a bit.

#haikyuuot3 #my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #bokuiwakurodai

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