-the hunger games, page 85
this is a fascinating little passage that appears near the start of the first book, and the importance of the avox girl in these early scenes cannot be understated. when we encounter the avox girl, we begin to explore katniss’ guilt at not showing the girl compassion when she’d had the chance, the story as she tells it to peeta, and her subsequent apology.
the line “just like i was watching the games” is noticeably and deeply significant here. at this point, katniss hasn’t even had her conversation with peeta about not being a piece in the games, and yet here, we can already see katniss independently recognizing the degree to which the games dehumanize the tributes. her comparison of her inability — or unwillingness — to help the avox girl in the woods to watching a tribute in the games demonstrates how insidious this way of thinking can become. here, even before entering the arena herself, katniss has articulated that years of watching the games made it easier for her to refuse help someone in need. what’s crucial here, is that this fact deeply disturbs her. it’s one that she carries so much shame about that she cannot even share it with peeta in her retelling of the story.
it’s notable that the story of the avox girl in the woods is one that takes place while she is with gale, and is also one of the first that she recounts to peeta in the very early stages of their friendship. it’s also notable that the one piece of the story she omits in her retelling is her inability to help the girl. here, it’s as if we can already see katniss comparing her own compassion and regard for humanity to peeta — because she remembered how he had helped her at a cost to himself when he’d had the chance, she’s embarrassed to admit to him that in a similar situation (albeit with somewhat higher stakes) she was unable to do the same for this girl. at this point in the novel, peeta has not yet even admitted to his crush — katniss is still under the impression that he helped her solely out of kindness, possibly without even knowing who she was. thus, her intentional omission of her own refusal to help the avox girl feels pretty significant here. while gale is witness — and furthermore, he is a contributing party — to all of this, it is peeta who she feels she has to hide her true behavior. in this way, we see katniss already comparing the two boys and putting their actions (or lack thereof) in conversation with each other.
but what’s especially fascinating here is that she does make an effort to apologize to the girl. in fact, she tries multiple times. while she still holds a great deal of guilt over her inaction in the past, she makes a decisive effort to show the girl humanity and compassion in the present. she’s had time to reflect on her actions and feel shame over them. but rather than ignoring this and simply accepting peetas excuse of thinking the avox girl looked like delly, katniss instead makes a decisive attempt to acknowledge her pain and apologize for the hurt she may have caused — and as we know, the girl will go on to forgive her for it. although there is nothing she can functionally do to help her now, katniss refuses to excuse herself from showing this girl compassion now that she has the chance. easy as it might be to just forget about the whole thing and pretend it hadn’t happened, she doesn’t let it go. katniss still tries to show her kindness.
katniss’ manner of recounting the story to peeta, which is one of the first private, full-length conversations they have, tells us a great deal about her character and how she views herself (and gale) in comparison to peeta. her guilt over her inaction in the woods, coupled with her admiration of peeta and her desire to mirror the kind of compassion he once showed her, as well as her insistence on somehow showing the avox girl compassion as soon as she has the ability to do so, are all crucial character beats that form a background and context for a great deal of her behavior and many of her choices going forward.
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Happy friday Sterling!!! last week I got some Revalas/Bull out of you, howabout some Revalas/Dorian this time? or not if you are stricken with a different inspiration. "i dunno who taught you that love comes with conditions and limitations, but mine doesn’t. not when it’s you." from the emotionally charged sentence starters.
Ooookay, man Kia you've been coming in clutch with the prompts.
This one kind of got away from me, I just started writing with a bolt of inspiration and ended up here ahahah
Here's something a bit more established for Revalas and Dorian :)
wc: 1.2k
@dadrunkwriting
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Revalas swore the sound of Dorian’s ring against to bar-top was the only thing keeping him sane. Like a metronome, a steady beat against the backdrop of the busy chatter and clinking glasses and Bull shouting something behind them to a group of very drunk Chargers.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The pace was increasing, just slightly, and Revalas finally peered up from where his gaze had been fixated on the gold that glinted against dark skin, just a few shades darker than his own. It looked good on him, on Dorian’s hands. Jewelry always did, and Revalas had spent more than his fair share of time haggling with merchants and using Leliana’s contacts to get this particular ring smuggled out of Par Vollen—a yellow-gold that stood stark and bright against the more muted, deeper golds of Tevinter jewelry.
“Yes yes, I love it,” Dorian muttered, waving his hand loosely, the word a slurred assurance that he did, in fact, realize Revalas was staring at it.
“That’s not… I’m not worried about that, vhenan,” Revalas chuckled in reply, leaning over to place a kiss on Dorian’s cheek, missing, and planting one on the mage’s collarbone instead. He could feel the warmth of his drink beginning to spread through his face, to the tips of his ears, and left his forehead resting against the perfumed linens and cool skin of Dorian’s shoulder. Patchouli and sandalwood, something smoky and a little spicy, something a little musky and human… He breathed in deeply before continuing, his voice muffled by the fabric. “You don’t even have to wear it. You could hate it for all I care, I just wanted you to have something so you’re reminded of me when you’re out,” he gestured vaguely, “doing whatever it is you do.”
“I’m always reminded of you, amatus,” Dorian said, his voice sounding a little distant, a little watery, still slurred and slow. Revalas heard the soft clink of gold against glass as he reached for his drink again. “It’s rather ridiculous, really.”
“What is?” Revalas looked back up, suddenly alert, an eyebrow raised, his hand darting out to catch Dorian’s wrist before more booze could hit his tongue. “What’s so ridiculous?”
Dorian chewed his lip and looked away. Krem and Skinner had begun to sing loudly, drowning out the music they were trying to sing to. Sera’s delighted squeal cut through the ruckus and Revalas felt the slow drip of a sloshed ale soaking into his pant leg from the bar.
None of it mattered though—they may as well have been alone in the Herald’s Rest as he gently pried the drink from Dorian’s hand and interlaced their fingers.
“Ar lath— I love you,” Revalas huffed. “Talk to me. I can see the smoke coming from your ears.”
“As astute and clever as ever,” Dorian replied, still turned away. He heaved a heavy sigh. “This seems… unwise.”
“What does? How so?”
There was silence between them. The chaos of the tavern had all but fallen away as Revalas watched the gears turning quietly, his gaze piercing, knowing exactly what Dorian meant but waiting for him to piece together the words to say it himself.
Dorian finally met his gaze, brows drawn in a way that he would have never allowed were he sober.
“Emotions are so… messy,” he finally said. “I never meant to let it get this far, you know.”
“But here we are, so now what?” Revalas pressed his lips to the back of Dorian’s hand. “It’s okay to be messy, Creators know Bull and I are just as bad.”
Dorian frowned. “Yes, but—”
“But you aren’t allowed to be? Why not?”
Revalas swore he could see the words turning over in Dorian’s head, the mental gymnastics he was putting himself through to try and justify his hesitance.
“Vishante Kaffas, you Ben-Hassrath are truly the worst,” he eventually snipped. “Perceptive asses, the lot of you. Yes, fine! Let’s make Dorian confess his feelings in the middle of the tavern, what fun! Surely he wants to share his deepest fears in public, or—no, wait—let’s make it in front of an audience! Of course!”
Hs voice cracked, and he pressed his palms into the scratched wood bar, staring at it as if trying to study a reflection that wasn’t there. Revalas brushed his thumb across Dorian’s cheek, unsurprised at the wetness he found there, and pulled Dorian to face him again. Grey eyes glittered with brimming tears, and Revalas wiped them away as best he could without smudging the khol that streaked down tanned cheeks.
“Dorian. Vhenan. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Yes… I…” Dorian shook his head. “I simply hate that I care so much. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it, to receive so much… attention? When I don’t even do anything, when I have so little to offer but these petty, drunken outbursts.” He slumped over, defeated. “There. You’ve pried it out of me. May I have my drink back, now, if you're satisfied?”
“Vhenan.”
The scrape of wooden stools across the floor seemed deafening in comparison to their conversation, but Revalas knew it was all drowned in the sea of late-night drunken chaos as he scooted himself closer to Dorian and pulled him into his arms. It was awkward, and likely an awkward sight, but Revalas held him tightly, as if his grip could quell his partner’s hitching, uneven breaths.
“Vhenan, you don’t need to do anything. You’re allowed to just care. Hell, it’s really not like Bull and I are any more practiced at this. We don’t even have relationships under the Qun.” He sighed, kissing the top of Dorian’s head, the styling oils tingling his lips. “I think about you constantly, and I don’t do anything but drag feelings out of you kicking and screaming, but you wouldn’t say the same about me, that I’m not allowed to care, right?”
“You shouldn’t” Dorian muttered, and Revalas hugged him harder, just uncomfortably so, so that he heard the air whoosh out of Dorian’s lungs.
“That’s stupid. You’re too smart to say stupid things like that. This isn’t conditional. There’s no rule that says any of us have to do anything.”
There was a long pause while Dorian finally hugged him back, fists clutching the back of Revalas’s shirt and face buried in his neck, until his shaking subsided and his breathing settled.
“I… I do like the ring.” he eventually said, pulling away. His eyes were puffy and red, but the shimmer of tears was replaced with a glint of his usual sarcastic mirth. “It’s rather fetching on me, don’t you think?”
Revalas kissed his hand with a smile.
“Ar lath. Yes, vhenan. Absolutely stunning. I bet you could even charm the pants off a Qunari with your fashionable jewelry alone. No one would even notice your dashing good looks.”
Dorian flashed him a smile before tipping his drink back and draining the glass.
“Ah, and don’t forget my unmatchable wit and irritable charm.”
“Oh, Creators, I don’t think I could if I tried.”
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“Olá!”
Roier freezes, hairs standing on end at the cheery greeting as his extra sets of eyes open. Danger, danger, danger.
But why would Forever be so dangerous like this?
Danger, danger, danger.
Roier trusts his instincts, though, trusts that Cellbit wouldn’t lie to him about needing to be careful. He reaches for a kitchen knife, drawing it behind his back just as the blond appears in the doorway.
Forever’s eyes settle on him, brightening in delight as his smile grows almost unnaturally wider. “Roier! ¡La realidad!”
The spider-hybrid only offers a slight smile. “Hey, man, what’re you doing here?”
Forever’s smile drops slightly, a flicker of something unknown in his eyes as studies the other. “Don’t be like that! It’ll be okay! Today is a perfect day!” He looks around. “Where is Cellbo? I have something for him!”
Danger, danger, danger.
“I don’t know, actually. What do you have for him?”
The blond seems subtly disgruntled, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, his smile goes eerily wide again, and he pulls out a little white bottle. “Cellbo is doing even less okay than Pac, so I have these for him to take! They will make him happy!”
He’s excited, nearly bouncing in place at the prospect. Roier hopes his own expression reads nothing but calm, maybe faux amusement.
In the silence, though, Forever stops suddenly. His eyes flicker again, threatening to ignite. “Stop making that noise, man!”
“¿Qué? I’m not making any noise-”
“Stop that fucking clock noise!”
“What clock, cabrón? I don’t hear shit-”
“Stop it!”
There’s a gun pointed at him, then, the safety flicked off. Forever’s eyes blaze in a way that unsettles Roier to his core, a Joker-esque smile etched right back onto his face.
Danger, danger, danger.
The speaker block goes off again.
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One thought I'm having right now is about just how often the study group calls Abed a robot or a computer. And how he even starts calling himself that. Like I don't think he believes that at all, but when you've heard something be said to you so many times, eventually you're gonna end up repeating it. And maybe even start believing the words to a certain level. Like poor Abed, who has spent his entire life watching movies and TV in an attempt to study people and how they're like, so he can understand what others do and think and feel. So he can talk to them and try to connect with them like everyone else does. Abed who has spent his life trying so hard only for it to never be enough, to the point where he eventually just gave up trying and started being himself despite how many times his friends and family call him not normal or a robot.
And then, when he's himself, there's finally someone who gets him. Maybe not fully, but there's a small group of people that try and there's Troy who actually kinda understands him. And that's got to be the best thing ever. And there's still comments on how different he is, but there's one person who doesn't believe that.
And I fully believe that Abed eventually had enough of all these comments. Remember the episode where the dean calls him special and Abed does this whole scene about bad writing in detective shows and making the main character autistic. He's been called so many things and here it goes again, and so he just says that. He puts this whole speech on being treated differently and then leaves because that's enough already.
Because people are saying he's all these things and he doesn't have empathy, and etc etc. Even though it's so obvious that he cares. It's just not always shown in the same way that the others do. And people call him weird, to the point where he calls himself weird. People say all these things about him that he fully wholeheartedly starts believing when, at the end of the day, all he's ever wanted was to be understood. To be heard and to not have to be alone. After all, is that not the most human thing out there? We all want people who get us. We all want to fit in and not have to face the world alone. He's just as human as everyone else, but he's the only one that doesn't get that same treatment.
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