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spideyxchelle · 4 years

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the odds are never in our favor

or, the hunger games headcanon that has been rattling around in my brain

her name is in the reaping bowl 47 times

that is nearly seven times more than the average eighteen year old. the odds are certainly not in her favor. but they never could be for an outskirter kid from seven. her family is not one of the merchant class. she has had to beg, borrow and sometimes steal to feed her family. there is too little to go around and too many mouths to feed. still. she perseveres. she has no other choice.

if today is the day she is reaped, she will go to her death knowing she did all she could for her family.

besides, she tells herself as she shakily walks to the town square for reaping day, she could win. it isn’t common, but people from seven do win the games. while they do not have the training of the careers or the brilliance of people from three, people from seven have brute force. and sometimes a little brute force can make all the difference.

hell, four years ago, a kid from seven won. at sixteen, too. he had outsmarted all of the contestants, hiding in trees and swinging from them to get around the arena, like a spider would from its webs. he had been fast. and a quick talker, too. he had a good humor about him. people in the capitol said he was charming. but Michelle didn’t think so.

even though he was two years older than her, MJ had known Peter Parker in school. he had been quiet. he had one friend, maybe two. when he had been reaped and this other persona, another identity, came flashing out on screen, it had been the antithesis of the boy he knew back home. it was as if he had put on a mask to bare the atrocities of the games.

with his mask on, no one could see him flinch.

it was brilliant. the capitol ate it up. they loved him. he was their golden boy.

people from seven could win. and if she was reaped, MJ could win, too.

it wouldn’t come to that, she reminds herself. she is in the reaping bowl 47 times. but she cannot be the only one. there are other half-starving kids from all over seven. she could go home to her family after this entire affair. and just like that the last seven years of horror, the sleepless nights where she woke up screaming that she had been picked, would cease to exist. she would finally have aged out.

one more day.

she can make it one more day.

the preening drone from the capitol welcomes everyone in the square, grinning from ear to ear about the games and the capitol and all of the good and glory the yearly spectacle brings to their great nation. it makes michelle sick. there is nothing noble about killing children.

her fury travels down to her clenched fists that clasp at the worn lace of her reaping day dress. she hates the capitol. she hates every last one of those smiling dolls that paint their faces like murder is funny.

her eyes search the dead eyes of the victors from seven that sit silently on the stage, awaiting the reaping. they will do nothing, just like she will in the crowd. and the cycle will continue. every year. forever and ever.

children will be reaped and slaughtered for sport, and nothing good will ever be safe in this world of nightmares.

“ladies first”, the disjointed voice of the capitol puppet chirps. michelle glances across the square to count off the top of her sisters’ heads. all four of her younger sisters stand rigid as stone. terrified. she wants to call out to them, to tell them it will be okay, that she will protect them. she will always protect them.

“MICHELLE JONES”, the capitol official says gleefully.

and michelle ceases to breathe. or think. or feel. it all goes away. like she had never been a person to begin with. everything that made her human eroded away in one horrible, endless moment.

her eyes snap up to the stage and the traitorous friends and neighbors she had known all of her life make room for her to march up to the stage. no one says anything. no one tries to stop the injustice. she hates them all. she doesn’t blame them.

the world is cruel.

something, maybe muscle memory or perhaps it is a peacekeeper, thrusts her forward and she begins to take the long walk up to the stage. someone in the distance is crying muffled sobs. she wonders if it is her mother. it could be. she does not turn around to check. her eyes are too focused on the stage and the stairs she will be expected to climb without fainting.

suddenly she remembers the year twelve year old Cissy Cartright had been reaped. she had collapsed when her name had been called. the peacekeepers had dragged her through the square and dropped her heavy heap of a body on the stage. it had been horrible to watch.

she will not be remembered that way. no. michelle finds some strength beneath her numbness and climbs the stairs. she stands silently beside her capitol executioner who pulls the male name from the reaping bowl.

she does not hear who will join her in hell. she is frozen. unfeeling. and has the faintest sense that someone is watching her intensely, too intensely, from the stage. some peacekeeper amused at her shaking knees, no doubt.

when her and the boy are escorted from the stage. she is taken straight to the train. she does not get to say goodbye. she is silently glad. she does not know what she would say to her family. maybe she would ask them to bury her under her favorite tree just at the edge of the forest. or maybe she would do something stupid. like cry.

no, it is better that she is taken right from her sentencing to her death. there will be no time to reflect on what she has lost. she is completely lost in her thoughts. someone is talking to her on the fast moving train. she can hear the warped version of speaking distantly, but it is as if the radio is out of frequency. she sits, motionlessly.

until someone touches her knee. she jumps out of her skin and snatches the fork on the table in front of her, posing it as a weapon.

the entire train car goes quiet. when her eyes focus, she realizes she has a fork at the jugular of Peter Parker. he is wide-eyed and intently watching her. she notices he is not afraid. he looks surprised, maybe even daring but not scared.

“you’re quick,” he observes. she nods, dumbly. “put that fork down, MJ.” on autopilot, she corrects, “only my friends call me MJ.” he quirks a grin. “I think, based on the circumstances, I can call you MJ.” she almost asks why. and then it hits her.

she has been reaped for the hunger games. she is going to die in that stupid arena, fighting for her life. she is going to be forced to become someone that she is not. when it comes down to it, she will fight and lose whatever last glimmer of humanity she has been keeping from the capitol all of these years.

she will become a shadow of who she once was. people will remember her as a killer. or the killed. or both.

she drops the fork. she begins to shake. there is another commotion. but she pays it no mind. she is having a breakdown. she cannot breathe. why can’t she breathe? there is no oxygen on this train. it isn’t like the forest, her forest, with all of her trees that stretch to the high heavens. this metal box is going to kill her. it is racing toward her death.

someone hauls her up into their arms, the embrace is strong and certain. and when she finally passes out from the stress of the day, she hears a quiet voice reassure her, “I won’t let you die, MJ. I promise.”

when she wakes, the train is dark. she is pillowed in the softest bed she has ever slept in and someone has taken the time to tuck her in. she rubs at her weary eyes. no one has tucked her in since she was a child, and even then she had been so fiercely independent her mother had given up by the time she was four.

“you’re awake,” someone from the shadowy corner of her room says. she sits up, like a shot, looking for something to use as a weapon. the lamp on the bedside table seems to work just fine. the voice chuckles, roughly, “relax, MJ. I’m not going to hurt you.” she cautiously turns the lamp in her hand on. her not-attacker is Peter Parker. victor of the hunger games. he is sitting quietly in her room. it is strange, bizarre even. the kind of thing that happens to other people and not her. after all, he is a superstar who became famous because he was unfortunate enough to be chosen to murder children in a sadistic game.

it is bizarre because she knows his face better than she knows her own. he is on every screen in seven. all the time. he is not someone that should be sitting quietly in her room. but she tries to breathe. he does not seem like an immediate threat.

after a moment of hesitation, she puts her lamp on the bedside table. the room is still hazily illuminated. his face gives nothing away. the mask again, she thinks.

“what are you doing here?” she asks. “you passed out,” he answers. “earlier. when we were trying to talk with you and Eugene about the games. strategy. the doctor thinks you’re having some kind of stress induced breakdown.” he smiles. it is rueful. “I said I couldn’t understand why.” michelle blinks. she tries to piece together the conversation that is happening to her and notes, “you’re teasing me.”

“no,” he says, seriously. “I would never do that.” and MJ does something stupid. she believes him. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he continues. “its an honor to fight for my district.” peter looks disappointed and says, “of course. well. I wanted to wait until you woke up to see if you were okay. I guess I’ll...go.”

she nods. he hauls himself out of his chair. and before he goes, he lingers at the door and looks at her over his shoulder. “I am sorry, MJ.”

she sleeps fitfully that night. she keeps hearing the resounding boom of the canon fire. she sees her face flash in the sky of the arena. she does not want to die. she tries to feel something. it is impossible. the capitol took it all when they called her name.

she has a brief moment of clarity, sometime around three in the morning, when she realizes that THAT is why the hunger games exist. they make the tributes less than human so the rest of the districts know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are less than. barely human. a means to an end. better to feel nothing. do nothing.

never revolt.

she will, she thinks. I will, she pledges to herself.

and when she wakes the next morning, padding into the food car of the train, she sits opposite of Peter, who is locked in conversation with an older victor from a games twelve years ago, and says, “tell me how to win.”

something in his eyes shifts. she cannot read it. mask mask mask, she thinks. but she waits for him to speak. patient and furious at her fate. he sees resolve in her now, she knows he does, and with the smallest smile, he says, “let’s begin.”

#hunger games au #Headcanon #spideychelle

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falcon94ssy · 6 years

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Snk 107 Predictions

Also a modified version of my Snk 106 prediction post

The Paradis flashback continues.

Thanks to the newly constructed harbour, the Survey Corps and the Anti-Marley volunteer soldiers have successfully contacted a country in the east who is willing to form an alliance with Paradis: Hizuru.

The Hizuru diplomats arrives at Paradis. Kiyomi meets Mikasa. They look at each other for a while...and then Kiyomi asks Mikasa whether she has a clan mark on her right wrist.

Ta-Da! Clan mark matched! Mikasa is confirmed to be a descendant of the Azumabito branch family! Happy family reunion time! Kiyomi is delighted and orders Hizuru soldiers to present the gifts to Survey Corps including a zeppelin.

The Hizuru people are invited into the Walls and have a meeting with the queen and the military. There is a feast. Seafood. Again.

Mikasa finally knows the truth about the persecution history of the Ackerman family and the East Sea Clan.

Hizuru people earning the trust from the military, offering a lot of high-tech stuff to Paradis.

One day, Kiyomi says many years ago, “The Owl” had left a lot of resources in Hizuru before he went to Marley with other Eldian revolutionists. The Hizuru leader would like to invite the Paradis soldiers to pay a visit in Hizuru, that they can learn to use the newest technologies to fight against Marley, meanwhile they can have their 3DMG upgraded with the help of Hizuru engineers.

These things are so attractive. The military agrees to send the Survey Corps including Eren and Armin to Hizuru.

The Survey Corps are warmly welcomed by the East Sea Clan people. And they have a feast.

The Survey Corps eat raw fish (sashimi) the first time. SASHA IS SO HAPPY.

The Hizuru engineers successfully upgraded the 3DMG.

Eren has disagreements with the Survey Corps and runs away to Marley on his own. Later, he writes a letter to explain his plan working with Zeke, as a result, the Survey Corps are forced to follow his plan.

Back to present time.

Mikasa wakes up from nightmares about losing people she cares about.

Mikasa in her room alone, stares at Sasha’s empty bed.

Hange goes to find Mikasa and urges her to go to a meeting, as Kiyomi and other representatives from Hizuru have already arrived in Paradis.

Queen Historia, the military, the East Sea people plus Gabi and Falco are in the meeting. Eren, Zeke and the Marleyan soldiers are not there. Hange reveals the Yeager brothers are locked separately in dungeons.

Hange, commander of the Survey Corps, explains what have happened to everyone. People divide into many groups arguing whether they should use the power of Eren and Zeke to unleash the wall titans for self defense or crush Marley.

Kiyomi points out the uncertainty about using someone with royal blood to activate the Coordinate, that releasing wall titans could bring devastating consequences to the Paradis people.

Many members of the military become panicked, thinking Eren and Zeke are too dangerous and show their mistrust of Eren and Zeke.

Kiyomi reveals many countries have announced they will join Marley to wipe out everyone on Paradis, probably will use Eldians living in internment zones as titan weapons. Falco and Gabi are horrified, worry their parents will be sent to Paradis in the next attack.

Historia calms down everyone and ask for suggestions to solve the most urgent problem they are facing. Kiyomi offers a plan of sending the Queen’s recorded speech and open letter to the continents so the Eldians living in the internment zones can know the truth of Paradis Island and Marley is plotting to use them to destroy Paradis, hopefully to encourage the Eldians fighting for their freedom, saving Paradis and the Eldian race.

Historia says it is the best option, and Kiyomi request to “borrow” a group of elite soldiers from the Survey Corps, so the Queen’s open letters and the audio cassettes can be distributed to the Eldians in the internment zones across the countries.

Mikasa is torn between her loyalty to the Survey Corps and the one to Eren. As she remembers what had happened at the night of Liberio, she volunteers to follow the East Sea diplomats back to Hizuru.

Mikasa is on the ship sailing to Hizuru. Mikasa feels so down and Kiyomi is the only one there comforting her, promises they will end the endless cycle of tragedy and Eldians will finally be freed.

#snk 106 #snk 107 #snk predictions #snk thoughts #snk theories #mikasa ackerman #kiyomi azumabito #east sea clan #snk meta #eeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkk

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