#- which is another reason why he wouldn’t force Katniss!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilguna · 5 months

Note

im sorry, i know you are looking for some request from other fandoms, but this one just seemed so perfect :(

from piano sessions, my tears ricochet by taylor swift with finnick?

i promise i will send another request with a different fandom, and it's totally ok if you don't want to write this ❤️ and of course, CONGRATULATIONS!

☼ my tears ricochet (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; Piano Sessions: songfic, my tears ricochet by taylor swift.

—

When you briefly met Commander Paylor in District Two before the Capitol invasion, she struck you as more of a leader than President Coin. Which was odd, considering that Paylor was a textile worker, burdened with the responsibility of organizing rebel attacks.

She’s a polite person to be around, confident in the way she holds herself, speaking with unwavering authority. You didn’t feel the need to lower your voice in her presence, because she wanted to know what you had to say. It was a nice change from where you’d been under Coin in District Thirteen.

There, you felt like if you breathed too loudly, it would get back to her. The amount of times she called you into Command simply because you were badmouthing her to the former residents of District Twelve was a little ridiculous. You aren’t entirely sure who heard you and reported it, or why Coin cared so damn much.

She must’ve assumed that you had an influence on the people, which she was wrong about. The only times you brought up her flaws was when someone else asked you what you thought of her. Oftentimes, it was because they were too afraid to be the one to say it first.

You could see right through her, like a sheet of tracing paper. The steps she’d taken in order to preserve her own self-image were done out of insecurity. She was afraid that if someone rose too high, they’d sweep the power right from underneath her. That’s why she was so willing to let Katniss go into danger.

All she had to do was win the rebellion, and she’d get control over Panem. And once she did, she showed her true colors. You knew the moment she suggested a symbolic Hunger Games that she wasn’t the right person to be in that chair. Even if a few of the others agreed to letting her do that, you knew they were resentful that she wanted to punish the Capitol in the same way they’d punished the districts for seventy-five years.

She missed one important factor, though. There was a reason why you were following behind Katniss Everdeen and not her. You trusted Katniss to make the right choices, and she never failed you. That’s why you knew that she wouldn’t let Coin announce the proposition.

That same evening, Snow’s execution was to take place. Instead, she found herself humiliated, with an arrow through her cold heart. Katniss took out the only evil left in a position of power, knowing full well that she could’ve gotten killed by the rebels for it.

Chaos followed this, an emergency election took place, where Paylor was given the position of President. In the weeks that followed, there was a televised trial, where everyone that was close to Katniss, was called to the stand to give statements on her character.

During this time, you weren’t allowed to go home to visit. You were forced to stay in the Capitol, because they could call for you to speak at any moment. And even worse, they’d placed you in a room with Finnick, because they were still under the assumption that you were together.

You weren’t. You and Finnick had been broken up for at least two and a half weeks, since the day that Boggs had died in the apartment complex courtyard.

The argument wouldn’t come until hours later, when you’d made it several blocks down the street, holed up inside of a different apartment to catch your breath and sort out a plan. After you watched the Peacekeepers destroy the building on live television, announcing you all dead, Finnick said that he wanted to take a walk to get some fresh air.

You went with him, mostly for safety in numbers, but also because you knew he secretly wanted the company. You went halfway around the block without an issue, but when you were about to turn the corner, the armed vehicle pulled up beside you, and the Peacekeepers started flooding out.

As you’d begun to curse the idea, Finnick started talking to the Peacekeepers, calmly, hands raised in the air. He told them that it would be a bad idea to kill you two on the street, because it would alert the others, and they’d run. However, he told them that if they tried to take you two by force, they’d find themselves in the same position.

You were morbidly curious on how Finnick would charm his way out of this one, when you realized that he wasn’t going to. He was giving them the information on how to catch you. He told them that the squad had off-handedly mentioned going into the sewers to evade the Pods. The best way to catch you guys would be, then.

And as long as the Peacekeepers let you two go, and didn’t interfere between the time you got to the apartment and into the sewers, he wouldn’t tell the squad about this encounter. To your surprise, the Peacekeepers agreed, letting you go.

The way back to the apartment was quiet. You were too stunned to say anything, wondering how Finnick had gone from the person to sacrifice himself, to doing the opposite. He knew your silence wasn’t anything good, which is why he told you that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

You weren’t upset by that. You weren’t scared that the Capitol was going to throw everything at you to either kill or capture you. You knew that when it came down to it, you’d keep yourself alive. It was the part after, when he told you not to say anything to the squad, did you finally crack.

You broke up with Finnick on the street.

To his credit, he upheld his promise of keeping you safe. The issue is that courtesy wasn’t given to any of the other squad members. Half of them died. Messalla, Jackson, Leeg, Castor and Homes were lost in the sewers. Something that didn’t need to happen, if he’d let you two get taken.

Whether or not he wanted to admit it out loud, Finnick was terrified that the topic would somehow get brought up in court. It was all he ever talked about when he got the chance. That there was a chance that the people you’d trusted for the past year could find out he betrayed them.

And against your better judgement, you told Finnick that what happened with the Peacekeepers would stay between the two of you. If it meant that he would stop worrying about it, you’d never breathe a word. Besides, if it did get out, it would destroy the both of you, not just him.

He’d get it because he’s the one that told the Peacekeepers, and ensured that you all went into the sewers. You would go down because you didn’t say anything about it, despite having a whole hour to do so.

You should never have told him this, because it’s what sparked the idea for his stupid decision in the first place.

Finnick got questioned before you did. It was simple, straight-forward. They wanted to know Katniss’s mindset during your journey through the Capitol, if there was anything out of the ordinary. When he got to the part of the story after Boggs had died and you holed up in the apartment, he tried to completely skip over your walk outside.

The man that was asking the questions, didn’t let this slide. He knew the two of you had taken a walk. You think he was trying to make smalltalk, now that you’re looking back at it. But Finnick must’ve panicked, because he let everything spill, the same way he had when he exposed Snow for the victor prostitution.

The issue is that he spun the story.

Finnick turned the blame around entirely, and he did so effortlessly, as if he’d been rehearsing it for days in a row. He told the court that yes, you had gone on a walk together so he could clear his head. However, a Peacekeeper truck pulled up, and that’s when you talked your way out of getting captured, by offering Katniss up as a sacrifice.

The entire courtroom filled with silence when that word left his mouth. Dozens of pairs of eyes landed on you, but you were looking at Finnick. There was only one word that chanted through your mind, getting louder as the seconds ticked on.

Wrong.

Even the man that was questioning him was confused, asking him to elaborate. That’s when Finnick repeated the events, twisting the truth to put you in the hot seat. You were the one that calmly spoke to them with your hands raised. You were the one that told the Peacekeepers about the sewers. You were the one that threatened Finnick if he spoke about it.

He was the one that broke up with you out of fear.

“Wrong.” You breathed, getting to your feet. “You’re the one that did all of that, Finnick!”

The judge had you removed from the courtroom, while they wrapped up the trial without your statement. You were supposed to go on stand that same day, but they ruled you out, because you were too emotionally unstable to be seen.

Reasonably so, because it was only thirty minutes later, did you realize that the entirety of Panem had just watched Finnick lie straight through his perfectly white teeth. And you’d never get the chance to explain yourself to anybody, because they wouldn’t see you.

Finnick was removed from your mansion bedroom, leaving you here alone. No one saw you for several days on end, except to leave food at your door. You were stuck watching the trial from the television, and it ended yesterday, with the conclusion that Katniss was under so much pressure the day that she killed Coin, that she was deemed not mentally sound.

And of course, you’ve received blame for that, too. If she hadn’t witnessed so many people get murdered in the sewers because of your actions to sell the squad out, she would’ve been able to think straight during the execution. In this situation, you’re the monster, and Finnick has been deemed the hero for coming forward with the truth.

You think that you can come back from this, though. The people around you just need time away, to cool down from the trial. Once it’s been a few months, you’ll come back with a proper explanation, appeal to Paylor, because she’s the level-headed one, after all.

Right now, you want to get home.

There’s a hovercraft waiting in the City Circle for the victors. It’ll be a long trip as you drop off the others on the way to District Four, but you don’t mind. You’ve been craving your bed ever since you got to District Thirteen. It’s been months since you’ve had proper time to relax.

Paylor is waiting in front of the front door with a couple of rebel guards. Once you get close enough, they move to block the way. Your eyes switch between them and her, confused.

“What’s happening?” You ask.

“I regret to inform you that you will not be able to go back to District Four.” Paylor tells you in a measured voice. “There were quite a few complaints regarding your actions, and the general consensus is that they wouldn’t feel safe if you were to arrive in District Four and choose to stay there.”

“They wouldn’t feel safe?” You ask, face contorting. “How many times do I have to tell you that Finnick is the one that told the Peacekeepers about the sewers?”

She closes her eyes. “We have no proof that you weren’t the one that told them. They want to be safe, rather than sorry.”

You side step, trying to see over the guard’s shoulders. You find that Finnick has stepped foot off the hovercraft, standing at the bottom of the ramp, hands in his pockets. You begin to shake your head at him.

“I want to speak to him.” You tell her, ignoring what she’s said. “I want to speak to Finnick before he gets to go home and I don’t.”

“Step back.” She orders you.

You listen to her, watching as she slips through the gap between the guard and the door. She walks down the runway, with Finnick meeting her in the middle. The two of them talk for a brief moment, where it ends with him nodding. Paylor motions to tell the guards to let you through.

They move aside, you go down the steps, heading straight for Finnick. He doesn’t move, allowing you to go to him. Paylor leaves to go back to the mansion, allowing you to speak privately.

“Finnick.” You snap, slamming your hands against his chest, hands gripping on the front of his shirt. You pull him forward. “You set me up. You son of a bitch. They’re not letting me get on!”

Finnick presses his hands to your shoulders, pushing you away. “I know.”

“Tell them you lied.” You shake him. “You don’t have to tell them it was you, just tell them you fucking lied.”

“I’m not.” He tells you. “This is your own fault, (Y/n).”

“How is this my fault?” You demand. “I promised you!”

“You broke up with me.” He’s calm, which is making you agitated. “After I made sure you got out of the sewers safely, you didn’t think to apologize. It was the right move to make.”

“Why would I?” You hiss. “Your actions murdered people.”

He makes a face. “Let go of me.”

“Everything I have is in District Four. My home, my pictures, my belongings. My entire life is there, and you’re the only thing standing in the way of me going. Just tell them you lied, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Finnick pulls your hands off of his shirt. “You have District Two, didn’t Paylor tell you? They said that they’d take you and Gale in.”

Gale, a bitter name in your mouth.

“I don’t belong there, and you know it.” You say.

“It doesn’t have to be there. You can go anywhere you want, (Y/n).”

“Anywhere I want.” You echo, as if it’s a cruel joke, blood boiling. “Just not home.”

“Maybe they’ll let you back sometime in the future.” Finnick begins to back up toward the hovercraft. “I can’t promise you that your house will be there. I heard from Annie that they set it on fire the same night I told them the truth. You’ll be lucky if there’s still ashes.”

“You’re going to regret this, Finnick.” You don’t move from where you stand. “This is going to haunt you for the rest of your life. Each time you look at the other side of the street, it’ll kill you knowing that you did this to me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

this was part of my 3k celebration! thank you anon!!

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kahlanmars · 10 months

Text

BAD FEELING 14

I am so early it's getting annoying, you know, but I feel so happy when I write this! Also, I'm a GREAT Taylor Swift fan so if you think "Uhm, that's a funny coincidence" it's not lol.

Comment if you want me happyyyyy! I don't know if it's worth it to keep going, I don't know if people like it or not!

MASTERLIST

gif not mine

14. One kiss, one page

The first days in District Thirteen are far from perfect. The suit they gave you is the most horrendous piece of clothing they could ever choose, and make up is forbidden. It is like they want to erase all the pretty things from the world.

You asked to be placed in Haymitch’s room, but they told you it wasn’t possible if you weren’t married.

You are in quarantine, which means no mom, no Effie and no Katniss, you are all in a room with a lot of beds and parasols and grey curtains. They love grey, from what you’ve seen. Perla and Lora are still asleep, they are worse injured than you, and Finnick is working with something technological speaking with someone, but you can’t sleep.

The bright side is that for a night you still have your man. Tomorrow he is sent to rehab, a violent and deeply wrong kind of rehab you can’t quite put a finger on. Are they trying to make him feel worse? Because he is a spectacular asset in the revolution, but even a genius can’t think straight with tremors and headaches.

«Can I tell you something without sounding ungrateful? Because I am. I am deeply grateful that you saved me.» You say, while Haymitch is in your bed. His hands are already shaking from the addiction, but you like to think your caresses can make the situation a little better. He hums in pleasure in response so maybe you are right.

«Go on.»

«I don’t like this place.» You whisper. «All these rules are weird. I am not saying I would go back to the Capitol, but…»

He shuts you up with a kiss. «You made your point.» And he made his. You couldn’t speak freely, not yet. From the Capitol to District 13 you are still in the game, just with another character.

«Maybe I will like it better after quarantine.» You humour him. «I really hope I’ll be able to visit you.»

«Perhaps you shouldn’t. They explained what will happen, and they mentioned rage, hallucinations, there is a reason why I’m in isolation.» You’ve seen him in bad places before, but hallucinations… that scares you a little, you have to admit it.

«I can handle it.» You murmur looking at his blue eyes.

«You don’t have to.»

«Yes I need to.» You shake your head. «You are not my mentor anymore.»

«I know but-»

«No. You are not my mentor anymore, or my employer for what it matters. You don’t need to protect me from the world, what have I told you before? I am an adult just like you. I took care of you before, I cleaned your mess and stayed with you. I’m strong, Haymitch. And I like you. And if we want to continue what we have, and of course you want to because I’m flawless and stunning, we have to take care of each other. Fifty fifty.»

He is silent. You didn’t want to give him a lecture, but at the same time he has to understand that he is not your boss. The power dynamics in your relationship are fucked up, but you are not a damsell in distress.

But maybe you overstepped. «If, if you want to keep going with it, of course.» You add, and now your eyes are on the floor.

«I wouldn’t have begun something with you if I didn’t know about the revolution.» He whispers.

«Funny, I thought I was going to die in a week.»

«I knew you weren’t. I mean, there was a chance, but not a high one.» He lifts up your chin, forcing you to watch him in the eyes. «I’m not good with those things.» He confesses.

«I know. I just want to know if you want it. Because if you don’t want it’s okay, but if you would like to be with me, without any label of sort, just you and me… Well we know we work well together.»

«I’m a mess.» He argues.

«Do you want it?» You insist.

«You are twenty four and I’m forty one.» He retorts.

«Do you want me?»

«I’m not a relationship type.»

«I never asked for a relationship but if you don’t want me I deserve to know.»

He shuts the hell up for a moment, and you can’t help but think of the worst. «Are you tired of me?»

He takes your lips in a kiss so fierce and powerful that is almost violent, all of his strength is on your body, all of his weight on you. «Never.» He answers between kisses.

You smirk. «I have broken ribs, you savage.»

«Oh fuck sorry, I didn’t think.» He tries to get up but you immediately take him and push him down to you. He didn’t think. Not “I didn’t think about it”, he didn’t think because he was so whipped by you.

«Nah-ah, mine.» You purr in his ear. «Is that a yes?»

He just nods. You get it’s hard for him, after his parent’s and girlfriend’s death. He was isolated from the whole world, he said it himself he didn’t want to get attached to you. You managed to keep him tied to you nonetheless.

«I like you so much. You don't have to tell me anything but I want you to know.» Because he thinks he doesn't deserve this. And maybe, just maybe, if you keep repeating it he will believe you.

«You have to get some sleep, sweetheart.» He kisses your forehead. You giggle at this exposure of tenderness.

«I don't want to waste time. What if there's a cute doctor and you fall in love with her?» This time you joke, but he rolls his eyes.

«Given the fact that I have been living like an hermit since I was seventeen, I think you are pretty safe in that field.» You hope. You tend to be the jealous type, you were with Clark and it wasn’t a sensual situation, you don’t know how you could react to jealousy in a relationship. Even if yours is not a relationship.

«They will have their claws on you. You are handsome, you know?» You start peppering kisses on his neck. «All the girls want to be me.»

«You are delusional.» You aren’t. As much as Perla can joke about it and Finnick can says he is old, he is not even fifty, he has strong arms and blue eyes, and he is magnetic in everything he does. You feel a little safer just because he is in disguise as this drunk grumpy crazy man who doesn’t want to talk to anyone, but it’s a charade. And even when he was playing the part he used to go to every shop in District 12 to buy something, just to help the people who worked there with his victor’s money. During Christmas he sometimes gave candies to the kids, or he gave you the money to do so without his name on it. He has a great heart. You hope women don’t notice it too much.

«Oh c'mon! Maybe this drunk character you've created is not that appealing, but you must know you are good looking.» Even Katniss said it, when he was younger he was a looker.

«I was. When I was sixteen. At your age I was already a wreck.»

«No you weren't! And you are not now.»

You stay silent for a moment, and you stroke his hair.

You hate Snow for what he has done to him, and you can’t help but wonder why you are not a wreck. You should be, you killed two people. People who had a family, dreams, ambitions. You always thought you would have been traumatised for that, thinking they had mothers who cried for them, children maybe, as for the Capitol man. In reality it didn’t happen. You can sleep at night. The Capitol man was a rapist and he deserved it, and you repeatedly asked Clark to be in an alliance with you, you begged him, and he was actively trying to kill you from the start.

Are you just evil? You know Haymitch is not, and he tries so hard to be. Maybe you try so hard to be good because you are evil.

«How was she?» You suddenly ask.

«Who?» He frowns.

«Marjorie.»

You are sure he will stand up and go away, and you see in his eyes he is about to do this but he squeezes your hand.

«We were very young. She was the baker's daughter, like Peeta. She was beautiful. All the boys wanted her, you know.» He indulges himself to be a little proud of his younger self, who succeeded in conquering the most beautiful girl in the district. You ignore the sting of jealousy, because it’s nonsense. She is dead.

«Did you love her?»

«I was sixteen. Sneaking in the meadows to have sex is not exactly love.»

«It is at sixteen.» You press a kiss on his cheek. «I'm not going to say it.» You didn't deserve this, you were a kid in a game stronger than you. And she didn't deserve it either, barely in a young love. It is not your fault. Not everyone you love will die. It is not a curse. You are not the problem.

«Thanks.»

He takes your face in his hands and he gives you a long deep kiss.

«You survived.» You can read his mind: you managed to survive despite him, it is a miracle, he should probably leave you alone because a miracle doesn’t happen twice.

«I'm pretty hard to kill. Thanks for the water.» You want to keep the conversation on a lighter note. He is done talking about his late girlfriend, it’s a great gift he even agreed to this at all.

«No problem, gorgeous.» He pats your leg. Oh if you weren’t in a room full of people you would have know how to spend the last night with your man.

«Would you read for me?» You suggest, «Since we are not sleeping. I want to read all the books you have, I've always been envious of your library.»

He laughs. «I clearly remember you stealing my books while you were cleaning.»

«What can I say? Now I've read all the books beside your bed. We know each other better.»

He nods, amused by your ability to speak your way out of any situation. «Little thief. Good thing you are so beautiful.» He is in a playful mode now, so he leans down for a peck.

«Shhh, read the book. Pleeeease.» You blush a little, but two can play at this game.

He takes a book from his bed and goes back to you. “Tales of Panem”, you didn’t read it. He is right, you borrowed several of his books. He had Capitol books, and the little school library in the district has four or five books. You had to.

«One kiss, one page?» He suggests, but your hands are already on his chest.

«One kiss, one line.» You debate.

«We will never finish the first chapter.» He laughs, but he kisses you anyway. You won.

«We have all night. Are you complaining?» You pat his arm, and he bites your neck. You should be more aware of marks now that you’ll live with your mother again.

«Never.»

The separation is not messy because he is not here when you wake up. There’s a note instead.

See you later, gorgeous. Take care of yourself, and visit when I’ll be better. Not before. Trust me, I’ll miss you.

Of course, he avoids the big goodbye. Maybe it’s better this way, you would have said something bad about the District.

«Can I get up?» You ask your nurse when she comes, and she caresses your cheek. You want to say to her you are not a kid, but it’s actually cute.

«You’ll take medication. Your body will be in shape in two or three days, ok?»

«Three days?» You whisper in disbelief. In Twelve everything was a big deal, you had a tiny hospital but it wasn’t so good and nurses here and there, like Katniss’s mother, who did what they had to do. Holly took care of pregnancies, for example. You didn’t want to be sick in Twelve.

«A lot of Capitol doctors are rebels, so now we have their medicine.» She explains. You nod, thinking how the hell doctors could know about the revolution.

There are a lot of things you have to catch up on.

«Thank you for saving me.» You add, and you know she didn’t do anything but it’s her home, and as much as you don’t like they still saved you. «I’m Daisy.»

«My name is Inez.» She greets you. There is something weird in her tone, though. Something like an accent. Yours.

«You… you have my accent?» You are surprised you see that, but after two weeks in the Capitol and one in the Games you are not used to your accent anymore.

«I used to live in District 12 when I was a kid.» She explains, a sweet smile on her face. She looks like your mother’s age, maybe they know each other.

«What happened then?»

«I became an orphan, I was in the system, I was in danger and… it was another time, another life.» She strokes your hair. «I’ve seen you in the Games.» She murmurs while she takes care of your medication. If she wants to change the subject you are fine with it. «How you saved the girl from Eleven and the girl from Four.»

«I also killed the boy from my district.» You have to add. She was in an orphanage? That’s the life Holly spared you.

«Wasn’t he going to kill you first?» She finishes it. «Do you really want to become a teacher?»

You are not sure anymore, if you have to be honest. You like kids and the prospect felt good in Twelve, but now you found out new labels of yourself. You like clothes, you like creating outfits, but in District Twelve it’s not really useful.

«I think so, yeah. I mean a week ago I thought I was going to be dead so I didn’t think much about my career, but since I’m not, yeah.»

«We have a lot of District 12 kids and we are actually looking for a substitute teacher. Would you be interested in that?» Well, it’s a way to settle down for the moment. You are not a tribute anymore, you obviously are not a maid anymore, you might as well be what you wanted to be for twelve years.

«Yeah, I would like that.»

She seems satisfied with the answer.

«So I’m sorry if I overstepped but… it is real?» Oh, the question. Everybody has The Question. Was it real? Was it for the cameras? Are you in love with a victor who won when you weren’t even born yet?

«Very real.» You confirm. She looks a little worried. That’s the prelude for your mother’s reaction.

«Isn’t he a little old for you? You are, what, twenty?»

«Twenty four. And no, he is not a little old for me.» You sound cranky now and you get that it’s not good manners, but that’s not that nurse’s business.

She gets it, luckily. «He seems like a good man.»

«He is the best.»

She ties your hair in a ponytail and she caresses your face. «Are you ready to get up?»

Turns out you weren’t so ready to get up, because you have to sit down after five minutes. You don’t have any resistance and you just want to rest.

The bright side is that you get to see District 13 and it sucks. There’s no silver lining for that, it’s horrendous. You are grateful you don’t have to fight to the death, but the place scares you. Everything is grey, there are a lot, a lot of tunnels and all the rooms are the same. You will get lost, you already know that.

Inez is near to you until you go to a room that looks like a cafeteria, and then she is gone again and you are alone.

For a moment.

«Daisy!» You’d recognize that voice everywhere.

«Mommy!» She hugs you tight, a little too tight given that you have broken ribs. You shouldn’t call her “mommy”, you are an adult, and truth to be told you almost never call her mom, but you really thought you’d never see her again.

«You are safe. You came back to me.» She strokes your raven hair, like you are a baby, and she refuses to let you go until you have to sit.

She looks twenty years older. You are not going to tell her, but she has a lot of wrinkles on her skin and white hair in her locks.

«I thought I’d lost you.» She repeats, and now she is crying.

«You didn’t.» You are vaguely aware you are making a scene, and you don’t want Perla or Lora to see you. They don’t have their mom here. You didn’t even see Chaff, you don’t know if he is here or captured in the Capitol. «I’m here.»

«When you were in the games, I- I didn’t want to watch it but I wanted to see you, and…»

«I think I nailed it, didn’t I?» You try to take a lighter note, but she seems upset.

«The poor Undersee boy.»

The poor Undersee boy wanted to end your daughter’s life, but before you could say something like that to her you are hugged again, and this time you scream too.

«Effie!» You are beyond happy to see her. She was your light in the Capitol and you can be her light here, in a place that you know better.

«My darling girl!» She winks at you and you hug her again, you want to keep her close.

She is so different. She doesn’t have her signature wig, but she covers her hair with a foulard. Grey, of course. And she doesn’t have any makeup on. «Your wig…»

«I am a political refugee, darling. Can’t ask for much.» That is deeply wrong. She helped you get out of the games alive, she saved you as much as Haymitch did, and now they repay them with a violent rehab and insufferable rules.

«You are still beautiful, it’s not something they can take away from you.» You try to reassure her, and it’s the truth. Even in a grey jumpsuit that is made to look bad she shines.

«Well, let’s say we are here and safe. And you are my roommate.»

You almost jump before you remember you can’t because you are bandaged. Inez would kill you. «That is fabulous! If we have any ashes I think we can make black eyeshadow.»

«You genius girl, I missed you so much.»

Holly is there, looking a little confused. Well, she doesn’t know how much you became close to Effie Trinket during your time in the penthouse, but she will understand. Effie is a good person, people in District 12 need to understand that.

«Mom, can I lie down now? I’m a little tired.» You still call her mom, because you missed her. You missed her hug, and you desperately needed her when President Snow decided you were a target.

You called her in your sleep when you killed a man, and it’s not her fault she didn’t hear you.

Still, Effie was there.

«Of course honey, can you handle going into your room alone?» You don’t think so, without Capitol medication you wouldn’t have been able to walk at all, but you don’t want to look spoiled or weak so you are about to say yes, when Effie snorts in a way that is somehow still ladylike.

«Nonsense, we can ask someone to carry her.»

«If she says she can, why bother someone?» Your mother argues.

«Because she’s turning blue.»

«Actually,» You interrupt them. «I don’t think I can do it alone.» You don’t want to portrait Holly like the villain, but it’s true you are turning blue from the effort.

With a satisfied glance Effie manages to ask a boy from District 13 to accompany you, but before you get to be in your bed, your mother stops you.

«Can we talk later?» She is worried, and a little angry maybe. You don’t want to deal with it right now. You know what she wants to say. You killed an innocent guy, you fraternised with the enemy, Effie Trinket is vain and shallow, and you admitted on national television you had sex with a guy who shared my class in first grade.

«Later.» You promise.

When she goes away it’s Effie who caresses your hair. Your room is the same as all the other rooms, narrow, poky and grey, two beds with white blank sheets and a little tiny toilet with a door - thank all the gods.

«I don’t feel safe here.» You whisper, and she just nods. «Can you stay with me?»

You and her are both stuck with you, you remember Haymitch’s words. Your loyalty is with them, and Katniss, and Peeta and your friends. And your mom, of course. You have to remember that.

She kisses you on the cheek and tugs your bed before sitting on your sheets.

«Always, darling girl.»

#fanfiction #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x fem!reader #bad feeling #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch imagine #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x reader #the hunger games #woody harrelson #daisy pinecone

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

Request: They’re getting ready to go into the Quarter Quell, and essentially have a super sweet conversation where they confess their love, and are like “damn the revolution I’ll protect you”. Anonymous

A/N It’s been a long time since I read the books so if I accidentally used the wrong word for something please let me know and I’ll correct it 💛

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody

You called it before they even announce it. You knew all the victors would get involved in the Quarter Quell because how else would he get Katniss to be in the arena without letting the public know that it’s purely to kill her? When you hear Finnick’s name get called out, there’s no choice. But was there ever one to begin with?

“I volunteer as tribute,” you say raising your hand to let them know that you’ll be going into the Quarter Quell and not that poor girl they’ve got on stage. You don’t look at Finnick because you know his face will just mirror back the pain you feel. No matter what the revolution has planned, you highly doubt that both of you gets out alive. The focus will be on Katniss because she’s the one that’s been fuelling the fire while the rest of you can die a martyr and inspire the people then Katniss’ death would squash the tiny flame. It’s not fair but she made everything possible when she took out those berries.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Finnick tells you once you’re on the train travelling to the Capitol.

“There was no way I was going to let you go alone.” Not to mention that innocent girl who got drafted. You’d have been a proper piece of shit had you not volunteered.

“But you could’ve survived. Don’t you understand that’s all I care about?”

“Careful, Finnick. Someone might hear your declaration of love and think it means something else.” It’s a warning that the walls have ears and not necessarily just the Capitol’s ears. Although you both want to think only the best of the lovely Coin, you can’t help but feel like it’s too good to be true. And you have no doubt that she’s got as many spies all around as President Snow.

“I just want you to live,” he says hearing your warning loud and clear. Katniss and to some extent Peeta are untouchable, you are not. He takes your hand without another word. The rest of the train ride you remain quiet, too worried about saying the wrong thing and jeopardising this whole thing. Haymitch is counting on to keep Katniss alive until the rescue mission and your lives can’t matter more than the entire of Panem. Even if you want to say screw that sometimes.

“God, you’ve gotten old,” you smile spotting Haymitch next to the star-crossed lovers. He scoffs but can’t help but laugh. You’ve known each other for quite some time now and learned a long time ago that humour is how you all get through this with at least some level of sanity.

“I see your kindness have only grown over the years,” he mocks before giving you a massive hug. Being a victor and having to mentor the kids every year creates a certain bond between you all but Haymitch has always been one of your favourites. It’s the reason you know you can trust him to do you a favour.

“We should talk once all the celebrations die down. Catch up on old times,” you smile giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze. He agrees suggesting the rooftop for a gorgeous view. When Finnick sneaks his arm around you, there’s a slight pang of guilt but you force it to the back of your mind. He’s going to survive the Quarter Quell if you can do anything about it.

“What did you talk about?” he asks quietly and you keep a smile on your face not even looking at him.

“Just good old days,” you utter hoping Finnick will understand not to ask more questions right now. There are too many people around you to speak freely and, in a minute, you’ll have to get on that carriage and pretend you’re proud to be fighting once again.

“Katniss, Peeta!” you call out catching their attention just as they’re about to get on their carriage, “nice costumes.” You’re trying to be nice and establish some sort of positive relation between you but all it does is make Katniss stare at you like you’re personally responsible for putting her in the Quarter Quell.

“I already tried. Tough nut,” Finnick tells you. It makes sense why the revolution needs a face but why they would ever choose someone like Katniss is beyond you. She’s not kind or caring expect when it comes to the people she loves. The future of Panem seems oddly low on her list of priorities but then again when has war ever made sense? And you certainly can’t say you’re morally better than her.

“Is holding hands a cliché?” You look over to Finnick who’s doing his very best to put on a brave face.

“I think it’s perfect.” You intertwine your fingers with his not letting go until the carriage has driven through those gates at the end where the public can’t see you anymore. And even then, it’s just to get some blood flow back.

“I just want some sleep,” Finnick says itching to get the costume off and you’re thinking the same thing. You ride up in the elevator with Katniss, Peeta and Joanna which makes for an interesting end to the day.

“Never a dull moment,” you say before exiting the elevator with Finnick. Joanna laughs loudly while both Katniss and Peeta looks slightly mortified. If she’s trying to win over Katniss, Joanna is doing a poor job.

“Let’s take a shower,” Finnick suggests now that you’re finally alone and you’re all too happy to comply. In the shower you can finally speak freely with the sound of water drowning out the sound of your voices.

“I know it’s horrible to say but the revolution doesn’t matter to me if I don’t have you next to me when it’s done.” He slowly lets his hands slide down your arms until they reach your hands.

“I know,” you whisper feeling the exact same way. The guilt returns tenfold this time but you keep quiet knowing that when he’s sleeping tonight, you’ll be bargaining for his life.

“I say damn the revolution. I swore to protect to you a long time ago and I’m not breaking that promise now.” He kisses you with a fire that tells you just how badly he wants to keep you safe. Desperation takes over your body as you kiss him back. You wish you could leave now and hide somewhere far away from everything. If it were up to you, you would’ve fled the moment you heard about the Quarter Quell. But it’s difficult leaving behind so many decent people who needs your help and the few moments of hesitation had been enough for the peacekeepers to show up and make sure you didn’t take off. Snow always knew you were a runner.

“And I say you’re sounding crazy. We can’t change the plan now. There’s nowhere to run.” As much as you’d love to run away and hide with him, you know it’s too late for that now. You wouldn’t make it out of the building.

“I don’t care if I sound crazy. We can protect each other in the arena, make sure we never part. And when they come get us, we make sure they grab both of us.” It’s cruel really to give hope to him because you know it won’t work but you wish it could be so easy.

“And then when we’re out, we hide. No more war, no more revolution. Just you and me and a small cottage near the water.” Hope may be cruel but it’s a strong motivator to survive and if anything you need Finnick to survive. You hide your face in the crook of his neck allowing yourself to feel a pang of sadness at the prospect of the future you’ve lost. Your lives ended the day you got drawn for the Hunger Games.

“And you can finally have enough quiet to paint,” he adds and you don’t have to see his face to see the affection in his eyes.

“It would be perfect,” you say closing your eyes to picture the cottage and the life you could’ve had with Finnick. The water hides the tears that fall from your eyes and it’s a good thing because you’re not sure you would be able to hold your secret from spilling out if Finnick noticed.

“I promise I will make it happen. I promise we’ll be alive to spend the rest of our lives together. Whatever it takes,” he says. Instead of answering him, you kiss him again. When the water turns cold, you get out and dry off. You both know that your safety is gone now and they can hear whatever you say so you keep quiet letting your eyes do the talking. You cuddle up in bed where you wait for him to drift off before you head to the roof where Haymitch is waiting. The wind is loud tonight working as a noise diffuser.

“I want you to save him.” It doesn’t surprise Haymitch but you both know he can’t make any promises.

“I know Katniss is the main goal and that’s she’s probably made some demand for Peeta. But if there comes a choice between saving Finnick or the rest, you save him. Do you understand?” It’s the least he can do for you after everything you’ve sacrificed for President Coin and the revolution. You could’ve had a life if things had gone differently.

“And that includes me, Haymitch. Once you’ve gotten Katniss and Peeta out, Finnick is your priority,” you add knowing that if Haymitch could choose, he’d pick you.

“Finnick will make more sense for the revolution. I won’t be an asset the way he can be.” He knows you’re right. Of course he does but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“I know,” he grumbles. You both know there’s a good chance you won’t make it out of that arena but then again none of you have been safe ever since you became victors. Snow made sure of that.

“Promise me. I need to hear you say it.” You’re not satisfied until you hear him say those words that will give Finnick a chance to make it. As much as you’d love to believe his plan of getting out of the arena together, you can’t afford to entertain the idea. Even if Finnick isn’t ready to admit it, you both know it’s a fairy tale ending you won’t get.

“I always thought he was just your way of getting through it, you know. That he offered some sort of relieve.” Maybe at first Finnick was your escape from reality but not now. He’s your world and everything else.

“He has my heart, Haymitch.” You hug him tightly hoping he knows how much his friendship has meant to you over the years of being a mentor.

“Take care,” he says before you spin around hurrying back. Finnick doesn’t wake up until you crawl back to bed but a quick excuse about the bathroom satisfies his curiosity.

“I love you,” you whisper looking over at the man who’s given you so much more than you’ll ever be able to explain.

“I love you more.”

#hunger games gif #hunger games blurb #hunger games imagine #hunger games #thg blurb #thg imagine #thg fanfic #thg gif #thg #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair blurb #finnick odair gif #finnick odair

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

Brother Trouble

Author: @eiramrelyat

Prompt: Autumn meet! funny everlark with smut pls🥺 [Submitted by anonymous]

Rating: E

Author’s Notes: Thank you to @mandelion82 for helping me bring some funny moments into this drabble. Thank you @jroseley for proofreading and helping me add the final touches. And finally, thank you anon for the prompt, and I hope I have delivered with the smut. Enjoy!

______________

Katniss had never intended for it to go as long as it did.

It was only supposed to be one drunken mistake during the Odairs’ New Year’s party.

Peeta was her brother’s best friend, and somewhere through the haze of lust, she knew it was wrong. Like she was somehow crossing an invisible boundary. Not to mention that he generally acted like she was nothing more than Gale’s annoying little sister.

He’d always give her the cold shoulder when she’d walk into the room. She never knew why. Katniss had been nothing short of decent to him since they met. And it usually never bothered her, knowing that people didn’t like her. But it annoyed Katniss that Peeta didn’t have a reason for disliking her, other than her simply being in his presence. And definitely, more than it should. They even got into an argument about it once⎯ an argument she started out of pure frustration.

After what seemed like months of bickering and trying to figure him out, she finally gave up and resolved that they’ll never be decent to each other.

How wrong she’d been.

The second time they had sex happened after one too many glasses of wine as they protested Valentine’s Day together. They were in her apartment watching corny romance movies, of all things. One minute led to another until they were a sweaty heap in the middle of the living room floor. She told herself it wouldn’t happen again after that.

But she broke her word after Finnick’s birthday party in April.

There were plenty of single guys from the fire station to choose from that evening, yet she’d somehow found herself in Peeta’s bed by the end of the night. Letting him whisper filthy things into her ear as he brought her over the edge three times.

When it happened again during the summer, she had developed a bit of a crush on Peeta. They were also sober this time, so she should have attempted to hold back her urges. But she didn’t. In fact, she made the first move by climbing into his lap on the couch in her living room.

He had frozen briefly, for every encounter before that moment never happened on purpose. Katniss remembered her heart felt like it would race out of her chest, but she was determined and dipped her head down to capture his lips with hers. Then, without question, he had picked her up and carried her to her room.

After that night, they couldn’t stop. Every time they were alone, they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

Then, there was the issue with Gale.

Although he wasn’t entirely clueless, he noticed that Katniss and Peeta no longer fought when they were in the same room. And then there was that time Gale caught Peeta flirting with Katniss during a summer barbeque. Katniss feared what Gale might do to Peeta if she left the room since he tended to be… irrational at times. Like that time Cato Smith pretended he was going to kiss her in the seventh grade, and Gale popped his bike tires. Cato had to walk eight blocks home that day.

So she quickly tried to distract Gale with⎯ something.

Sports, maybe? Whatever she did, she knew she saved Peeta from suffering an unfortunate fate.

She hated keeping Gale in the dark, but it also annoyed her because they were all adults. She could see whoever she pleased without her brother’s permission. Still, she knew it wouldn’t go over so smoothly in Peeta’s case.

Therefore, she chose the farthest seat from Peeta during Gale and Madge’s rehearsal dinner. She didn’t want Gale to grow any more suspicious than he already was. Unfortunately for her, this left her sitting next to Gale’s slimy friend, Marvel.

Madge had insisted that she wear a dress, and Katniss regretted it for several reasons. One, they were nearing the end of autumn⎯ the high for the day barely capping thirty-five degrees. Second, Marvel’s heavy stare down the front of her dress had her skin crawling all through dinner.

What a creep.

Meanwhile, Peeta sat next to Madge’s cousin across the room. A beautiful model, no less. Cathy? No. Cashmere?

Katniss always prided herself on never being the jealous type. Still, it set her teeth on edge as she watched the perky blonde continuously place her perfectly manicured hand on Peeta’s arm. Apparently, the well-trimmed dark suit attracted more than Katniss’s attention. And Peeta entertained the woman by leaning over to whisper something in her ear. When a twinkling laugh followed, Katniss tried to not let her annoyance show. Though, she might have stabbed into her chicken more aggressively than necessary.

Honestly, she had no reason to be jealous. They’d never talked about the exclusivity of their… arrangement, so Peeta could flirt with whoever he pleased.

Still, it bothered her, and she had her crush to blame.

Peeta looked up, then, and caught her staring, one of his eyebrows arched in amusement. Red-faced, Katniss glanced away from him and turned toward Annie. She needed some fresh air and an escape from Marvel. If she sat there any longer, she’d surely pour the rest of her wine into his lap. “If the server comes back, can you tell him I want cheesecake? I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

Annie smiled and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Try not to get lost along the way.” Then, as Katniss pushed in her chair, she added with a smirk, “but I’m sure a certain firefighter wouldn’t be opposed to saving you.” Annie was one of the few that knew about her and Peeta.

Katniss rolled her eyes, her face growing warmer, and turned to weave through the banquet tables toward the venue hall entrance. She had no clue where to go once she was in the giant building’s entryway, and she ended up wandering through the halls until she could find a restroom.

It was a beautiful venue nestled in the middle of a vast apple orchard. The manor was originally built by a couple from France and showcased a variety of chateau-esque architecture. From the conical roofs to the pilasters and the motifs delicately etched into the ceilings and walls. It perfectly fits Madge’s princess-style wedding.

After what seemed like the sixth hallway, she finally found the restrooms near an empty conference room. She reached for the door handle but jumped as a hand wrapped around her wrist. Katniss frowned when she turned around to find Peeta scoping the hallway.

“Peeta? What are you-”

“Shh.” He pulled her away from the restrooms and led Katniss toward another door in an alcove at the end of the hall. Peeta opened it. “In here.” He ushered her inside the small coat closet and shut and locked the door behind her.

Katniss huffed, crossing her arms over her chest while Peeta tested the door handle. She could faintly smell perfume (Cashmere’s most likely) on his jacket, which brought back her annoyance from earlier. “Would you mind telling me why we’re hiding in a closet?”

When he decided that the door was secure, he faced her. “Because I needed to do this.” Before she had time to ask any more questions, Peeta cupped her face between his hands and kissed her. She squeaked in surprise, but Peeta swallowed the sound with eager kisses.

While his hands roamed down her sides to grip her backside, his tongue dipped into her mouth to run across the roof and over her teeth. A low moan escaped her, and Peeta followed it with a groan, his hands pulling her tighter against him. They were so close that Katniss could feel the heat from his body bleeding through the front of her dress.

She trembled with the sudden rush of warmth that flared in her pelvis and reached up to grip the front of his suit jacket to steady herself. But a rustling outside the door brought her back to the present, and she pulled away, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

The idea that they could be caught at any moment had alarms going off in her head, warning her they should stop.

She tilted her head back against the wall as Peeta’s mouth mapped a wet trail down the side of her neck. “Peeta. We shouldn’t-”

Katniss’s voice broke off with a breathy gasp as he pressed his thigh between her legs. Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head, and her fingers tightened in his jacket. His trousers were rough against the front of her underwear, creating friction she didn’t realize she needed.

“I couldn’t stand the way Marvel was staring at you,” he growled into her skin. His breath, harsh and hot against the side of her neck, made her head spin. Then his teeth grazed at her pulse, causing her hips to twitch involuntarily against the bulging tent in his trousers. “Katniss,” he breathed, resting his forehead upon her collarbone. “And when I saw him stand up after you left, I had to…” Peeta trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

Wait. He was… jealous? For some reason, the idea made her stomach do a somersault.

She gently pushed at his shoulders, forcing him to look up at her. “Did you think Marvel and I left to fool around?” When he didn’t answer right away, she continued. “You know I can’t stand him, right?”

His lipstick-stained lips quirked up into a very brief smile. “I guess I made an ass out of myself."

Katniss shrugged one shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m just slightly repulsed that you think I’d hook up with Marvel of all people.”

He chuckled and pulled away from her, then placed his hands respectively at her waist. "We can go back to dinner if you want? You should go first, though. I- uh,” he cleared his throat, reaching down to adjust himself, “I need a minute.”

Katniss debated this for a second. Talking about Marvel had dampened the mood, but thinking about Peeta masturbating alone in this closet… the thought stirred something inside her. Surely they hadn’t been gone that long, so what were a few extra minutes going to hurt?

Instead of leaving as she should have, Katniss tugged on his tie and pulled him down to press her lips to his. Peeta groaned softly as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, and he slanted his mouth over hers to deepen the kiss.

He brought his right hand up to tangle in her hair at the nape of her neck, loosening the low bun that Madge spent an hour to create. But she didn’t care. Not at the moment, anyway. She was too aware of his other hand playing with one of the narrow straps of her dress.

Slowly, he pushed it down her shoulder until it fell softly against her elbow and exposed her left breast. She moaned as his thumb ran across her pebbled nipple. Once. Twice. Each time sending a shiver down her spine. Then he finally palmed her breast with his warm hand, and Peeta’s name fell off of her tongue in a desperate plea for more.

He smiled against her lips. “You have to be quiet,” he whispered before dipping his head down to take the pert nipple into his mouth. She muffled her cry against the back of her hand, while the other found purchase in his short curls. He let out soft, pleased sounds from the back of his throat as Katniss tugged and smoothed her fingers through his hair.

Peeta pushed the rest of her dress out of the way and moved to give her other breast equal attention, alternating between teeth, lips, and tongue. Katniss started to squirm, shifting her hips in search of relief⎯ as much as she wanted Peeta to continue his attention to her chest, she needed… more.

Her hand slithered between their bodies to cup him through his trousers. He jerked at her touch and released her nipple from his mouth with a hiss.

“Shit."

He growled her name, the sound sending a pulse of heat straight between her legs, then he covered her mouth with his. The kiss felt more urgent this time, more teeth than tongue, and his hips steadily ground into the palm of her hand. Katniss’s eyes fluttered closed as he continued to grope her breasts, his fingers rubbing and tugging at the sound of her gasps.

Slowly, the closet filled with their heated breaths, the smell of arousal, and Peeta’s intoxicating cologne. It almost made her light-headed.

Her hands moved to make quick work of the buckle on his belt and pulled him out of his boxers. Then Peeta picked her up and pinned her against the wall behind her. Her legs wrapped around his waist while she gripped his broad shoulders to hold on, but she practically arched out of his grasp as his hands carded over the tops of her thighs. Finger traveling higher and higher, pushing her short black cocktail dress up until it bunched in a silky pile at her waist.

Peeta’s knuckles pressed over the embarrassingly wet front of her underwear, the fabric stimulating her clit deliciously. He groaned against her mouth. "Fuck, Katniss, you’re so wet.”

“Peeta, please.” She tried to keep her voice down. But she assumed whoever was near the door earlier had already heard their shuffling from inside the closet.

He reached in his back pocket for what she assumed was a condom, the sound of the foil packet being ripped, filling the closet seconds later. She watched between them in anticipation as he rolled the prophylactic down his thick length. He brushed the crotch of her underwear away with his thumb before he lined himself at her entrance.

Katniss’s head smacked against the wall with a resounding thud as he pushed into her slowly, inch by inch. Once he was fully seated inside her, they groaned simultaneously, neither of them being as quiet as they should be. At this angle, she felt full, stretched to the point of it almost being uncomfortable. But she rolled her hips in his hands with a gasp, trying to accommodate him. It’s only been a couple of weeks since they’ve last had sex, though, at that moment, it felt like months.

Peeta began to move, pulling out slowly, almost entirely, and pushing into her again. He did this two more times, then he slammed his hips into hers so suddenly that one of her heels fell off her foot and clattered to the carpeted floor. She had to bury the moan that followed into his neck.

Grunts and sighs filled the space of the closet, along with the repeated slapping sound of skin on skin. Peeta nipped and kissed a path from her shoulder up to her ear, taking her earlobe into his mouth. “God, you feel amazing,” he said thickly, and her body clenched around his cock in response, her fingers digging into his jacket.

She could feel the heat in her stomach coiling, tighter and tighter⎯ a heat that consumed her with every press of his body into hers. Her arms and thighs trembled with the effort to stay in rhythm. And she doesn’t know how to voice this, the words coming out in an incoherent jumble. “Peeta- need-” she whimpered when Peeta tilted his hips at the right angle that made him grind against her clit with every thrust. “Yes!”

He stopped, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth, his dark blue eyes watching her in a mix of amusement and desire. She panted against the back of his knuckles as an unexpected shiver of excitement traveled up her spine. Her eyelashes fluttered against the top of his hand, silently begging him to continue.

His thumb smoothed over her chin, then he snapped into her at a brutalizing pace. She was immediately thankful for his hand on her mouth as it started to become impossible to hold back her cries.

It only took several more thrusts before the heat in her core unfurled, filling her with warmth. Her walls contracted around his cock as she came; soft, muffled moans rolling off of her tongue. Peeta grunted, his frenzied thrusts faltering as her body spasmed around him. A few moments later, his brows drew together, the tell-tale sign that he was about to come.

Out of the influence of her blissful high, Katniss tilted her head and took Peeta’s thumb into her mouth. He watched her with hooded eyes, his lip curling, then she flicked her tongue against his skin. That was what undid him.

His thrusts slowed, becoming unmeasured. “Fuck,” he grunted, and she felt him pulse inside her as he emptied into the condom. After a minute, he released a satisfied sigh, his warm breath blowing across her sweaty face, then he lowered his hand from her mouth. They slumped against the wall, panting, while Peeta supported all of their weight.

Peeta, still catching his breath, pushed a loose strand from her now destroyed bun out of her face, giving her that crooked smile that made her knees weak. “I think people might have noticed our absence by now.” She laughed tiredly.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and they froze. Then the person jiggled the handle. “Whoever the hell is in there, I need my jacket,” her uncle Haymitch said from the other side of the door.

Katniss’s face burned in mortification, and she hid it in Peeta’s suit jacket.

“One moment!” Peeta called out.

“For God’s sake, you better not have ruined my coat, boy,” Haymitch said before they heard him walk away.

She lifted her head, glancing over at the door. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the face again.”

Peeta chuckled. “At least it was only your uncle. It could have been worse.” His words were like a bucket of ice-cold water. God, Gale could have been the one to catch them. How long have they been gone?

Katniss cleared her throat. “Uh, maybe we should go back.”

He sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” When he pulled out of her, a hollowness ensued, then he helped her back to her feet. As Peeta wrapped the used condom in a piece of tissue from his pocket, Katniss tried to straighten out her dress and put her one shoe back on.

They looked like… well, like they’d been thoroughly satisfied. Peeta’s shirt had some new wrinkles in it; his once neatly gelled hair now an unruly mess against his forehead. Not that hers probably looked any better. And she was pretty sure she lost an ivory button from the back of her dress.

After finding the missing button on the floor, she reached for the door, but Peeta stopped her by holding her elbow. She turned to look up at him.

He smiled demurely. “My place, tonight?”

She bobbed her head, incapable of telling him no. “Okay,” she told him softly, then opened the door. Sure enough, Haymitch was on the other side, a glare cemented on his face.

“Well, it’s about time! I thought you two got lost in there.”

Katniss covered her flushed face with her hand and bee-lined it toward the women’s bathroom. She really hoped her uncle knew how to keep his mouth shut… However, luck was not on her side that night. Because as she was about to walk into the restrooms, there, near the empty conference room, stood her slack-jawed brother⎯ his eyes watching the closet she and Peeta just exited from.

Well shit.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #eiramrelyat #submission #prompt

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

THE SEVEN || prologue

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: supernatural au with action, angst, smut, and (trace amounts of) fluff

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader fights to survive, attracts a powerful group of demons, and causes general mayhem in a post-apocalyptic new world

⇥ word count: 1.5k

⇥ warnings: nc17, *this fic has scenes of graphic violence*, demons, bloodshed, anarchy, general apocalyptic things, cursing, eventual poly relationship, a made-up language, hints of desire to own, brief mention of abuse, an attempt at world-building

⇥ beta reader: heathy @shadowsremedy - thank u so much!!! i was holding off on beginning this fic for so long, and you really helped me move forward! uwu<3

Prologue

The world has completely gone to shit, I think to myself as my blade slices right through my opponent’s eye. The responding roar of the crowd reinforces that thought as the lifeless body slumps to the ground.

Removing my bloodied knife from the man at my feet, I stand, exhaustion kicking in after yet another adrenaline-fueled fight. Gazing out at the surrounding crowd of humans and demons, I narrow my sights on tonight’s guests of honor – the seven demons who would decide if my performance was deemed worthy enough of payment.

Raising my chin in defiance, my eyes meet those of the pompous greed demon of the Ahgase Seven. Lim Jaebeom lounges on a provisional throne flanked by his six brothers. Their combined beauty is ethereal but leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

How is it that creatures so prone to evil can be so lovely to look at?

After glancing briefly at each brother, I finally make eye contact with Jackson Wang, the Ahgase’s pride demon. He inclines his head with a satisfied smirk, simultaneously permitting my payment and ordering my swift dismissal.

The callous disregard of my efforts never fails to ignite a familiar burn of fury within me. I fight to the death to earn a week’s worth of food and shelter, and all I get is a fucking nod in response? Complete and utter bullshit if you ask me.

My teeth grind together as I give the slightest and stiffest bow possible in the Ahgase Seven’s general vicinity and stalk out of the Pit. Reminding myself that I actively choose this fate never really helps, given that the alternatives are equally as shit – if not more-so.

Basically, since the planet lost three-fourths of its population in the Reaping, the old capitalistic way of the world is no longer. Now, the main ways to survive deal with what you have to offer as a resource – your body, your skill, your labor, your loyalty. I choose to fight because, for me, it’s the soundest option.

My prior life had been sketchy at best. I had taught Krav Maga, a form of aggressive self-defense and reflexive fighting, to teens and young adults. I also had used Krav Maga (and other more nefarious methods) on abusive parents or guardians, bullies, or romantic partners - the very reasons my students came to my classes.

My resulting ambiguously gray background probably had influenced heaven and hell’s decisions to leave me behind. Still, killing hadn’t come easy for me in the beginning, but now it seems like second nature. In this new era, there are no rules, no moral codes, no winners, no losers. There are only survivors.

And I’ll be damned if I am not one of them.

Last year, the Reaping left us all in chaos and confusion. The supernatural had become natural. Heaven took those deemed worthy and let Hell deal with the rest. But, as it turns out, Hell was just as picky.

For a few days, demons ruthlessly reaped millions of humans and dragged them below the earth. And then the reaping stopped. The humans that remained were left with burned cities, abandoned homes and a complete absence of law. They were a ruthless bunch with questionable backgrounds and ambiguous morals. It honestly made sense that they were left behind – myself included.

The short period after the Reaping brought with it a general mayhem which resulted in looting, fires, and general destruction. The remainder of society was bare-boned, with only the richest areas having luxuries like running water and electricity. I referred to this time period – the lull before the demon Sevens took over – as the pseudo-Hunger Games. I legit had to pull a full Katniss Everdeen in order to stay alive during those two weeks.

Then, finally, the demons rose again.

The demons that rose were power-hungry and desperate to prove themselves worthy to rule over the New Earth. They looked human until you got too close and felt the negative energy that emanated from them. It's almost a built-in warning for those lower on the metaphorical food-chain not to get close to a source of potential harm.

By possessing a demon of each sin category, Sevens were able to bond together and max out their powers. Often, Sevens took on courts and consorts to siphon additional power, but my intel on demons was mostly built on speculation and rumors. The general consensus seemed to be that humans joined demon factions because of the promise of protection, food, and other resources. However, no one usually survived leaving a faction led by a Seven once they had declared fealty.

I vowed to never willingly enter into a Seven’s territory. My freedom and independence were the only things I had left to hold onto. And that was how I ended up in my current situation as a fighter in the Pit, the rough, man-made arena where fighters battle to the death for winnings while the audience bets furiously on their selected victor. No one had bet on me at first, but they learned quickly.

The Pit’s existence sprung out of desperation for distraction. Humans and demons alike needed some form of entertainment away from the monotony and death embedded within everyday life. Located within the Neutral Zone, the Pit provided humans the ability to earn a living and to make a name for themselves. Those that fought in the Pit were only lower on the human totem pole to the Pit Master and to the merchants in the Neutral Zone. Below the fighters were the scavengers, the workers, the peasants, and the lost.

Marching towards the exit gate, I nod to the next competitor to enter the arena – it might be the last I’d see of them. Pit Master Agra greets me as I step through the gate’s threshold and finally out of the public eye.

“Good work,” she forces a smile that only looks like she’s in pain, “But, next time make sure there’s more blood.”

I say nothing.

Agra takes my silence as acceptance and jerks her head at the empty hallway, indicating my second dismissal of the day. “You have one week until your next fight,” she predictably calls as I make my way down the tunnel towards my makeshift room located in the fighters’ dorms.

I wave a hand carelessly behind me in a sign of recognition. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to challenge her in the Pit.

Pausing outside my room, I struggle to unhook my necklace that held my key. The blood on my fingers still has not fully dried, and I grow increasingly frustrated. I just want to bathe, goddamnit.

“Allow me,” a deep voice purrs from behind me. I shudder as two hands suddenly brush my own away from their hold on the necklace. Warm fingers brush the nape of my neck as the sound of a slight inhale meets my ears.

Fuck, I hope this person isn’t smelling me because I am almost certain the combination of sweat and dried blood is extremely unpleasant.

“There,” the voice rasps, “All done.”

My necklace is gone from my neck, and I turn to retrieve it from whoever just assisted me.

“Oh, fuck,” I hiss, taking in the demon before me. His teal hair is wild and reminiscent of a blue flame. His black eyes are large and slanted, fixed on me with a peculiar expression I just cannot place. His clothes are expensive. I peer closer, inspecting the intricate details on his patterned top. Was that Versace?

In this economy?

His arm extends to mine. My necklace dangles from one finger carelessly. “Here, mì shaìà (my pet).”

“My name is (y/n),” I grab the necklace and shudder when our fingers brush for a split second, “Not Mishaeya.”

The demon smiles. It’s large and boxy and completely predatory. “(Y/n). Mì shaìà. It doesn’t make a difference.”

Am I missing something?

“Listen, demon-dude, I just killed someone like five minutes ago. Can you stop being cryptic and just tell me why you’re lurking outside my room?”

“Ah, yes,” he stalks closer to me. My back hits the door to my room. He licks his lips, “I was watching you. You are quite the fighter, little one.”

“Little?” I glance down at my thick and well-muscled self, “Mhm, okay.”

“Are you not scared of me, mì shaìà?” His hand cups my chin, thumb darting out to wipe some blood from the shallow cut across my cheek.

“Should I be?” I front like my heart isn’t beating out of my chest.

“Yes,” he smiles before sucking the droplets of my blood from his thumb. “Surely someone as exquisite as you should need protecting. I’m surprised no one owns you yet, (y/n).”

My back straightens, “No one owns me. No one ever will.”

The demon’s head tilts as he silently studies me for a few moments. He looks like he almost wants to say something before he steps back and bows. “Sleep well, mì shaìà. I will be seeing you again.”

I gape as he walks away from me. A thought strikes me. “Hey!” I call after him, “What’s your name?”

He answers without looking back or breaking his stride, “V.”

a/n: i made up Deìthi, the language that the demons use in this story. i will keep a running list of translations at the bottom of each chapter as well as putting initial translations in parentheses following the first usage of the word.

Deìthi (The Language of Demons) Translation List:

Mì shaìà - My pet

#bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btsbookclub #180knet #hyunglinenetwork #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts au

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the-sun-and-the-sea · 4 years

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How President Snow controls everyone in Panem

Something in the Hunger Games series that's been on my mind is how manipulated and controlled people in Panem really are. Not just in the Districts, but the victors and the Capitol as well. The emotional manipulation and psychological torture is so calculated and deliberate and it honestly intrigues me so much.

So there's the obvious point about how the Districts were pitted against each other and therefore wouldn't collaborate to rebel, so I won't go in to detail about that. However there's another way that Snow keeps them from rebelling that I've been thinking about. From the beginning, we can tell that things in the Districts (at least in 12) are considerably more primitive than things in the Capitol. Nothing is automated, not even the mines which produce the Capitol's coal, which seems strange given the Capitol is also negatively effected by that inefficiency. And we know that the Capitol has extremely advanced technology and the means to automate the Districts more, but they choose not to. And I believe this is because, by making even the simplest of tasks difficult, people in the Districts aren't going to have time or energy to focus on anything else. Katniss mentions that you can take out tesserae and get a supply of grain and oil, which obviously requires some form of work to produce something edible, seeing as you can't just eat grain and oil. It's the small details like this that make me wonder how much effort needs to be put into the smallest tasks. So by keeping the people of the Districts so focused on their physical needs, that gives them really no time to consider their emotional needs; in turn, keeping them from actually doing anything about their horrible situation.

The victors are controlled in a different way. Victors are dangerous because they know firsthand how disgusting the Capitol is, so they're the most likely to rebel. They have money and reliable shelter and resources, so their physical needs are met. Which means that they have more time to consider the fact that they're miserable. And they really are, because the Games are horrible enough to leave someone traumatized for life, and the fact that the Games never truly end only enhances that further. What I got out of analyzing the victors' behavior and how Snow operates was that every victor seemed to have a purpose, or a way to help Snow or the Capitol in some way. Haymitch, as he mentioned, was the example; a cautionary tale for victors who wanted to rebel. Finnick, and probably some other attractive victors, were prostituted and forced into different roles, providing the Capitol with money while also keeping the victors in line. There are some other ones that I won't mention but my point is that the victors all did something for the Capitol and were threatened with the lives of their loved ones, so they had to do it.

Citizens of the Capitol, upon first glance, seem to have much more freedom and luxury than anyone else in Panem. They seem shallow and vapid and blissfully ignorant, because they are, and I believe that's the point. They don't have much personal reason to rebel seeing as they have everything they could ever want or need, but surely they aren't blind enough to not notice how corrupt their government is. Well, they are blind, and that's fully intentional on Snow's part. By dressing up and parading around the tributes before the Games, it likens them to dolls or toys or something else that's not entirely real. This leaves a disconnect between the Capitol and the Districts because the Capitol sees the tributes as something to possess and admire from afar, but not quite real, so it's okay that twenty-three kids die every year. It's just a television show, after all, no need to get upset about it. And even though the tributes are obviously real people, citizens of the Capitol are manipulated to subconsciously think of them as fictional or not real. This makes the tragedy and horror of the Games considerably less apparent, which is why many Capitol citizens are described as vapid or dumb.

This is even more apparent in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, when we see firsthand how deliberate and calculating Snow is. His obsessive need for control is so apparent.

Tl;dr: Basically, Snow manipulates everyone in the country in different ways to keep them all from rebelling and I don't think it gets talked about enough.

#the hunger games #hunger games #thg #hunger games prequel #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #victors #the districts #the capitol #panem #katniss everdeen #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair

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annikasafternoonread · 3 years

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So. That’s The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. Thoughts. I have them. This is going to be a long one, folks, so buckle in.

I guess my overall report would be... better than expected. That might sound like faint praise, but I had serious reservations coming into this book. I think a lot of people were concerned when it was first announced. And I certainly think those reactions were warranted and valid and I don’t regret them -- this book could have been a mess.

It wasn’t. It didn’t try to rehabilitate Snow, didn’t try to make him relatable or sympathetic or misunderstood or a victim. It didn’t do any of that. Snow was a privileged, bigoted, ignorant, self-centered asshole with a superiority complex the size of a planet. Collins got that much right at least. We can see some of the forces that conspired to make him that way, but they don’t make him any less of a terrible person who did terrible things for terrible reasons.

But. That kind of character... is not the most fun to read, honestly. I don’t love spending this much time reading a book that just makes me angry. I don’t love spending this much time with a person I hate. I think I’m glad I read it, to know more what it was and to gain some interesting context about the world, but I don’t think I’d read it again. And I don’t know that I’d recommend it. If I did, it would come with some heavy caveats on there.

So that’s my overall impression: better than expected, worth reading once and no more. On to some more specific hot takes.

So first off, Lucy Gray. I love her in a lot of ways, but she also confused me and I was a little disappointed by other aspects. She’s fun and talented and sweet, but girl what the fuck do you see in Snow he’s a shithead I mean less of a shithead to you, at least compared to the rest of the Capitol, and he did sort of save her life so like Florence Nightingale Syndrome or whatever, but ugh. Gross. I really really really wanted her to be playing him. And I’m not entirely sure she’s not.

As she says when talking about Billy Taupe being a possessive jealous asshole, flirting with people is part of the job description when you’re a performer and entertainer. It’s what she does. It’s what she’s always done. It’s what’s kept her alive for years, being charming and sweet and desirable and making people love her. And now in the Games, she’s relying on Snow to keep her alive. So the more he wants to keep her alive, the better. And if he’s in love with her, and thinks that she’s in love with him, then he’ll be very invested in keeping her alive. As Snow notes at the end, she killed quite a few people, in ways that could have been self-preservation or happenstance or mercy, but could also have been calculated as fuck. It’s hard to say.

I can’t tell you how much I hoped that she’d be cool towards him after the Games, that it would have been all for show and Snow would run back to the barracks with his tail between his legs. She didn’t, which is a big part of why I don’t think she was playing him. Her joy, her kisses, her invitations to spend time together, her song, it doesn’t seem like a lie. But on the other hand, maybe thumbing her nose at a Peacekeeper and Capitol high muckity-muck wouldn’t have been a smart move. Maybe having a Peacekeeper on your side, and someone with Capitol connections, would have been very handy. After all, he kept bringing them ice and baked goods and such. If they could keep him close, he might stand up for them if the Peacekeepers wanted to ban them (which they eventually did a few months later, so the Covey probably knew it was a possibility). He might or warn them if something bad was coming.

The thing that swung me back to “maybe” is how fast she went from “let’s run away to the woods together and be free” to “I’m gonna sic a snake on this motherfucker.” Like, yes he deserved that, but he always deserved it. That’s a hell of a swing for a few hours. Was it just realizing he might have sold out Sejanus that swung her opinion? Was there something else instead or as well? Did that push her to make new connections, or finally tip over the pile of reservations she’d been ignoring? Maybe. But it just seems... like it might have been more than that. Like maybe she was planning to ditch him anyways, though I can’t imagine why. Idk, the theory doesn’t hold together terribly well, but neither does Lucy Gray’s infatuation with another shitty possessive abusive man. Or maybe that’s just patterns.

The question of what happened to Lucy Gray honestly doesn’t interest me that much. I’m sure there’s plenty of speculation and opinions and headcanons about whether she returned to District 12 or escaped to the wilds or died there in the woods, but frankly I don’t care. Oh, I hope she lived, but it’s not relevant. There isn’t an answer, so I’m not terribly interested in figuring it out.

What I do find interesting is Dean Highbottom. He’s a very ironic character, in my opinion. He tells us at the end that he thought up the Hunger Games in a class assignment “to create a punishment for one’s enemies so extreme that they would never be allowed to forget how they had wronged you.” He didn’t actually want the Hunger Games to be real or think they ever could be, and he felt terrible about even submitting the assignment (against his will). He turned to drugs when the proposal was brought forward and became real, because he was so horrified. He didn’t believe in that kind of vengeance, didn’t want to keep that hatred alive. He didn’t think that was what humanity was or should be.

And yet. His response to Papa Snow’s betrayal in submitting an assignment about punishing innocent children for a crime they didn’t commit was to punish Snow for a crime he didn’t commit. So maybe he’s wrong about humans, or at least about himself.

I don’t think Dr. Gaul is right about human nature being inherently evil and violent and selfish, though. Put us in the right circumstances and maybe, sure, but we don’t have to be in those circumstances. She’s so caught up in the eternal war, and obviously you can’t stop a war if you believe it’s still going. And maybe eventually if you’re not hardass there’ll be another one, but maybe there won’t! And goodness knows being hardass didn’t stop the next war! It’s impossible to say for sure that if the Capitol/all of Panem had been more fair and just and kind, the next war wouldn’t have been sooner, but it’s also impossible to say that it wouldn’t have been later, or never. That seems worth fighting for. Dr. Gaul terrifies me, obviously, but she also kind of just makes me sad. What a depressing worldview. She doesn’t see it that way, I’m sure, just sees it as a challenge and a game, but it is sad.

The rest of my thoughts are less expansive, so let’s just bullet point them:

Propaganda works terrifyingly well. Be careful of your internalized biases and the messaging being fed to you.

The effects of pride and honour and position are wild. Snow was simultaneously crushed and elevated by them, as was Sejanus.

Speaking of Sejanus, he deserved better. I love my son.

The fuck was up with Clemensia? They never really resolved that. Is she actually okay? Did her skin grow back? How the hell did that happen? Could she have turned into a snake? Why was she so cutting and mean and unlike herself? Was Gaul controlling her somehow? Why did they refuse to tell her parents anything? But also how could she manage to escape from her room to sneak in on Snow? What the fuck?

I love the full circle of a Mockingjay bringing Snow up, as Lucy Gray’s voice and fame helped him to rise and bloom, to gain Dr. Gaul’s favor and the Plinths’ money, pulling him out of his , and then a Mockingjay tearing him down, when he crossed Katniss and put her family in danger and she decided he had to die.

This was a fucking essay, which I feel a little bad about, but I had a lot of thoughts and feelings okay? XD For anyone who actually read this whole thing, you are a saint, you deserve several cookies, I don’t have a way to give you any so here is instead a picture of my kitten using TBOSAS as a pillow.

Have a good day! See you soon for Mockingjay Part 2.

#annika reads #Suzanne Collins #The Hunger Games trilogy #The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes #book outro #bookshelf

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courtneystriker · 4 years

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My Thoughts on the HG Prequel

I just finished reading The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and I got to say, my feelings are mixed. Below I have an entire review for the story which included how I felt, the expectations, the biases I had going into the new book, and how I felt after reading. Please note there will be spoilers. Also this review isn’t meant to hurt anyone and if you absolutely love the book so far...good! Enjoy it fully! As an aspiring writer myself and someone who studied in college/loves creative writing I’m well aware that people just have different takes on writing. Glad you are enjoying it :)

Anyways, here it goes…

The Expectations

As the Hunger Games series is one of my favorites of all time, I had a strong bias to like this book. Since it was first announced, without knowing any details, I was extremely excited and optimistic. I re-read the entire Hunger Games series twice beforehand in preparation; once with my fiancé and once on my own. The only thing I really wanted, knowing that it took place during the tenth hunger games, was that the arena reflected how new the hunger games were. Then, when we learned what the series was about, people started voicing some concerns or were disappointed by the plot, instead wanting it to be something like Finnick’s arena, Haymitch’s, Mags’, etc. etc. I was not among this group. However, I understand where they were coming from, because I always thought the idea of the first Quarter Quell (the one where the districts voted for the tributes) was an extremely interesting concept.

Yet I think these things are best left explored in fanfiction as they add nothing to the series and Suzanne Collins did an excellent job just giving us enough information to get the idea. At that point it’d just be a book on details, which could fall short or be a gimmicky, cheap way to keep people reading the series and keep her name relevant. And wasn’t that part of the message in her series, the thing Katniss so heavily criticized that gave a great irony to the books? Who would watch children killing each other for entertainment? Meanwhile, we as the reader are reading these books as a form of entertainment. Plus, Suzanne Collins so skillfully painted the illusion of knowing but not fully knowing their stories that it’s haunting, and I think that is one of the many reasons (along with the battle royale trope being naturally compelling, liking the characters, etc.) that a lot of us are more drawn towards these stories rather than (at least for me) a book on Snow.

That being said, I was not against the idea of a book on Snow because I find villain characters, especially grey ones, to be very interesting to read about, and I was pretty certain Suzanne was going to handle this beautifully, especially since you could already feel this atmosphere coming off of Snow in the Hunger Games series. I know some were really concerned about a Snow redemption arc, but to me it felt very obvious that it couldn’t be and it would be more of him sliding into evil.

I did have other concerns when I read the description for the first time. I could not believe they went with the whole tribute from District Twelve thing again. I loved Katniss and District Twelve, but I did not want Katniss 2.0. I said right from the beginning to my fiancé that she’d have to make the tribute from District Twelve extremely different for me to get on board (though I was holding on faith that Collins would). It just felt cheap and gimmicky to rehash the District Twelve thing, it sort of made me feel the same way I would have if she had written about one of the games I mentioned above. Sure, it’d sell, but it wouldn’t add anything to the series. I was thinking she better not hunt, sing, or have any qualities resembling Katniss really.

Another thing I worried about was the love story they hinted at in the description. It just didn’t make sense to me. Because how was Snow going to ever support the games if from an earlier age he fell in love with a tribute and vowed to protect her? Then later he’s all like pro-hunger games? Just this itself could weaken the entire series if done poorly, because it would weaken the main antagonist’s motives for not only the prequel but also the Hunger Games series as well. I kept thinking either the girl has to die in the arena betraying Snow somehow (which is what I was hoping for), Snow will have to betray her, or perhaps he would have been faking love for her for some sort of personal gain I couldn’t imagine. Either way, I thought it weakened the story's appeal to me. Yet overall I was still excited, desperately waiting for the book’s release.

And now that I have read it, I have to say it felt forced at a lot of parts and lackluster overall…

*Spoilers start here*

My Review:

Suszanne Collins’ writing style is one I’ve always loved and has consistently appealed to me. Even though this book is written in 3rd person (which some may like less if you don’t particularly like third person) it holds up well against the original series. So I really had no complaints in this regard besides the excessive use of songs (felt like fanfiction a bit). I think if you liked the original series and don’t mind third person you’ll feel right at home with her style.

The concerns others had about Snow’s redemption are completely dismissed in this book. Like I had predicted, she writes about his fall into evil, and although it’s not black and white evil (as I don’t like anyways) you can very much tell he’s a bad guy and that the hardships he faced in life only further pushed him towards obtaining status and power. Overall, he feels true to the character when we end up seeing him in the Hunger Games series, and his journey to power fits the images Finnick painted in Mockingjay. He is very well characterized in the book and perfectly unlikable while maintaining an intriguing internal dialogue (although it does occasionally feel tedious, but not enough to bother me; others may feel differently).

The way he is written is very much in line with Collin’s great characterization, one of the reasons I always loved The Hunger Games. All the characters felt like real people. They all had an extreme depth to them and I felt they all resembled people I had actually met in real life. There were little to no characters that relied solely on gimmicky personalities to get by. Even very minor characters that seemed depthless and swallow at first--like Katniss’s prep team--had more to them. So I thought going into this book I had nothing to worry about in that regard. I didn’t even really spare it a thought, but boy was I wrong.

I think Snow and Lucy Grey were the only characters that had (at least partly) the depth that the original Hunger Games cast had. I’ll discuss Lucy Grey later but first let me talk about some side characters. Where to even begin really? There’s a LOT of characters in this book. Frankly, way too many, which I think contributes heavily to the lack of depth in the characters. Honestly there’s so many that the names of characters were hard to keep track of while listening to the audiobook (my hard copy of the book was still in the mail and I didn’t want to wait). Things got a bit clustered in my mind quickly. There were twenty-four tributes, twenty-four mentors, Snow’s family, The Dean and Drs at the university, Snow’s Peacekeeper crew, and the Covey, and those are just the groups that I can cluster together. At least, the ones I remember having names and getting introduced, but I think that’s everyone really important. There was no real time to develop or get to know them really, which made the tributes’ deaths more meaningless as I could barely recall their names. It caused impactful scenes to weaken significantly overall and it made characters serve only to characterize and amplify Snow’s fall into evil.

Here’s what I mean by that. The head Gamemaker, Dr. Gaul, really was the character I hated the most while reading this. She was just evil without reason (one of the weakest villain types with little to no personality besides being evil). She even made creepy rhymes as if she was in some sort of horror movie, and the entire point of her character was to contribute a lot to some of the forced plot points driving Snow’s moral decline. For example, there were all her tests, which seemed contrived and all directly connected to getting Snow to think the Hunger Games was a good idea. She was seemingly supposed to be a Dr. Mengele type character, as this book has a lot of Holocaust-esqe imagery. I’m fine with irredeemably evil villains, but instead of getting the depth that a Dr. Mengele character could offer (as some may know, many children that were part of his experiments actually said he was kind and gave them candy, and I find that deeply haunting to this day.) She is a flat, one-dimensional character whose entire personality could be described with one word: sociopath. Evil people are master manipulators, which is how they get away with evil things. I think at one of the funerals she puts on a good public face, and she seems to have power, money and influence. Yet the book doesn’t show this seemingly present quality nearly enough to make her a haunting character. Instead we get nursery rhythms and clearly driven lessons towards evil at are contrived. Like “Write about what you most liked about the war” or the assignment to improve the hunger games? Like what class is this? Why are they taking it? And why are the young kids of the influential deciding this instead of the influential people themselves?

Another character I feel was just there for Snow’s development and to represent an opposite viewpoint but lacked Collin’s usual depth is Sejanus Plinth. As a District 2 citizen whose family got rich off the war and moved to the Capitol, he is the main opposing viewpoint of the book, presenting Snow with a chance to do the right thing. I’ve seen people say he’s a Peeta-like character, but I completely reject that idea. He lacks in the charm Peeta has, relishes in self-pity (although he’s completely justified in his sadness and has a right to be upset), and while he has a heart like Peeta, he ultimately doesn’t know how to use it. Instead of working within his position to get influence like Peeta so masterfully does, he’s hot-headed and continuously makes poor decisions that ultimately don’t help anyone. It’s like he wants to help but doesn’t know how as he’s driven completely by emotion without reason. He too contributes to some forced scenes, particularly my least favorite in the book; when they sneak into the arena. Overall, he just falls flat for me. Again, I feel I don’t know anything about him beyond what he contributes to Snow’s story line and he doesn’t come across as realistic. It’s like Collins just wrote how someone would normally react to the hunger games, slapped a district number on him and went on her merry way.

I just wasn’t prepared for these sort of characters when the Hunger Games series made even the smallest of characters stand out dramatically. I feel neutral to annoyed by most characters in this novel. I could expand this portion, and maybe if people inquire I’ll elaborate on some of the other characters as I have strong opinions on them, but this post is already getting long, so I’ll move on to Lucy Grey.

Lucy Grey is by far my favorite character even though she is bordering towards being a character from a fanfiction. Not quite a Mary Sue in my opinion but there is a certain connection to fanfiction I made with her. You may have guessed some issues I had with her by reading my expectations earlier in the post, but that has not displaced my love for her. Her personality is very different from Katniss’s, or even Peeta’s or Haymitch’s. She had a different type of charm than all of them, is a natural performer, and seemed more extroverted. Also, the whole idea of the Covey and her “not really” being district was intriguing. It really highlighted the displacement that war can cause and how people can just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. (Although I was confused on how much mobility between the districts there were….and did District Twelve have a fence or no?) It really emphasizes one of the main themes of the book, extreme prejudice against both Capitol and District. Her spot sort of in between really drives home the point that there's literally no difference except extreme poverty, and even then there was poverty in the Capitol, only better hidden. Her bright mood (and clothes), her poised attitude, and her optimism made her endearing. She was confident in her skin yet still held the fear of a sixteen year old going into the hunger games.

There were only two main things that bothered me about her, which was of course the direct connections made to Katniss (which I’ll elaborate on) and the forced “love” story between her and Snow. I suppose that has less to do with her and rather more to do with my dislike of that subplot. And I'm a sucker for some good romantic subplots, but yikes!

I think having one strong connection to Katniss was all that was really needed in this book. I really liked the idea of that connection being the Hanging Tree Song, as I can only imagine how it made Snow feel watching “The Mockingjay” sing it in the propo. Despite me not liking that fact that Lucy Grey is also an enchanting singer as that felt like directly stepping in Katniss’s territory, I did enjoy the little twist of Lucy Grey writing the song. Yet the connections between the two when the plot took us to District Twelve went too far. It felt like it took away all of Katniss’s special places and things. The lake, her katniss roots, her gift towards music, her fondness for the meadow, sneaking into the woods, etc. I think one solid connection would have solidified their bond beautifully. Having so many seemed like it was really trying to force the reader to make the connection when it was already painfully clear I guess? Plus, having Lucy stand out at her reaping ( the whole song part read like a bad, contrived fanfiction bit to me) and having people care about her in the Capitol while moral questions of the hunger games were still surfacing made me start to think...isn’t this how the rebellion for Katniss got started? At least partly. I get it’s a different time. Too close to the war. It just felt way too similar. I guess Collins was going for the idea of a lost rebellion that in a way Lucy Grey started that Katniss later revives. Yet it feels like that invalidates the specialness of what Katniss does in the original series as it’s already happened; it just got erased. I guess history repeats itself, but I really just didn’t like it. I could see the appeal to some extent, and it could be a beautiful connection, but it just wasn’t for me.

Now on to the plot, which is the last thing I’ll talk about as this post is getting ridiculously long. A lot of the plot felt very forced or contrived, which was another shocker coming from Collins because her pacing and plot was done really well in the original series. Of course, a lot of this was driven by Dr. Gaul and Sejanus Plinth as the entire plot hinged on the moral debate of the hunger games these two represent. Other plot points just hinged on what happened to establish the games. I mean the rebel bomb explosion seemingly only happened to change the terrain so Dr. Gaul can then bring up the idea of the different arena and how that made the tributes act differently, thus creating the crazy arenas we see later in the series. I do have some praise for how Collins established the disparities between the earlier hunger games and the ones we see in Katniss day. From the way they lock the tributes up, don’t feed them, the spotty coverage of the arena, etc. All of that was exceptionally well done. The only complaint I have was that so many tributes died before they even got to the arena (though not because I wanted to see them fight). I had been expecting one to escape or something to further establish that this was new territory and was waiting to see how they handled it in earlier times, but I wasn’t expecting that many to die before the arena got started. It just seemed like a huge Capitol failure that they advertised loudly. I really wasn’t expecting that level of incompetence, just an escaped tribute that threatened to embarrass or harm the fragile beginnings of post-war Panem. Instead, most of the pre-arena stuff felt disastrous. A lot of the mentors' deaths felt forced, and it was weird that the academy never really came under fire at all from all the rich and powerful parents whose children were getting killed because of the mentor experiment. Like it seemed there should have been some interaction there, but there wasn’t. Maybe some was passively mentioned but still, it could have been a whole subplot that further established the debate of the hunger games.

While the pre-arena up to the break-in to the arena felt like the most forced part of the book and certainly I felt it needed more workshopping plot wise, it also harbored some great and powerful scenes, like Arachne pulling the sandwich away from the tribute while she was starving and laughing about it. Basically, all those interactions of poverty and captivity meeting the citizens of the Capitol were done well, but nothing spectacular (unlike the scene of Katniss screaming at Buttercup at the end of Mockingjay which is heart wrenching.)

The last plot point I’ll talk about is the “love” story. I wasn’t a fan, but it was sort of what a lot of the plot hinged on and led to the great scene at the lake between Snow and Lucy Grey. How easy it was for him to betray his “love” for status. This led to some of the most interesting and evil internal monologue Snow had in the entire book. I honestly feel the ending scene, the interaction Snow had with the jabberjays and Mockingjays in District Twelve, and the lynching scenes were among the strongest and most memorable.

The love story again felt forced (sorry I’m using that word so much it’s just so accurate) into the story. This hindered the book from having a strong plot in the same way the weaker characters caused forced interactions and plot points to move things along. Yet at the same time the kind of abusive and lackluster nature of their relationship throughout the book fit perfectly with the ending. Unfortunately, it didn’t really make it very compelling for the reader. Luckily Lucy’s personality kept my interested during these parts. I wouldn’t say their relationship was poorly written at all; in fact the way it was written makes perfect sense. I just think the plot relied too heavily on their “love”, which was gross because of the way Snow is, and the reader knew it had to inevitably end in some kind of betrayal or reveal that there was no love at all. This creates tension for the reader, but I kept wondering: if the love plot had been ditched could we have gotten a stronger plot altogether?

So overall, like I’ve said I’m really conflicted. I know I focused heavily on things I didn’t like, but honestly the book was well written in some regards, plot bouncing between really compelling and a little contrived, the two main characters being written well enough but other characters not so much. Some connections between Lucy Grey and Katniss made at the end were powerful, I loved the Covey, Collins still excelled at writing a lot of the social issues/scenes in the book, and honestly the idea of Lucy Grey being completely forgotten in the Districts that hurts my soul a little. Nothing compared to the feelings I got in any of the Hunger Games books but there’s still something there.

I really hope someone made it through this long ass post. The book was entertaining. I mean I listened to all 16 hours of the audiobook in like a day. I can’t wait until my hardcover comes so I can look through it. Maybe once I know what I’m getting into I can enjoy the book a little more than I did, because right now it’s sitting at very average for me. Maybe I went in with my expectations too high? I certainly like the Hunger Games a lot more and probably always will. Honestly, I love new content, but I’m also the type that likes firm, planned endings to stories (even though it hurts to let things end and the fandoms can suffer from lack of content). I think fans can oftentimes get caught up in what they want and pressure the writer into writing more, which ends up a disappointment since it wasn’t originally planned in the series from the beginning. While I don’t think this is by any means the case with Suzanna Collins or that Lionsgate even pressured her to write this book (I don’t like conspiracies of that sort of thing as a writer myself that plans to have a series in which a book comes out many years after the original part of the series is released), I do wonder if this is the end of the Hunger Games for good. I sure hope so, especially if she would be writing about the other victors. I love them too much and really don’t want to feel similarly about their books, and like I said at the beginning, it wouldn’t add to the series just to my guilty pleasure lol.

Hope you all have enjoyed your reading of the book more than I did :) Again sorry if I wrote anything to upset you! Please if you loved this book ENJOY IT! I’m actually kind of jealous if you did. Feels like missing out on something special.

#The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes #suzanne collins #tbosas #lucy grey #coriolanus #Dr. Gaul #Sejanus Plinth #Hunger Game Prequel #Hunger Games #Katniss #Peeta #hunger games series #review #catching fire #mockingjay #books #writing

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

Text

Sunset on Grass

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 67: Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rated M: for later chapters/ this particular one is actually G.

Tags: Age Difference- Peeta is 19 years older than Katniss, but there won’t be any romance until she’s of age, so I might as well tag this as Slow Burn. Time Jump. Mr Everdeen is alive in this one, which makes Katniss OOC. Tags will update according to chapter posted.

Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine. This chapter closed at around 4200 words. Happy reading.

Thank you to @javistg and @xerxia31 for once again hosting Our Beloved Exchange. You guys are the best!!!

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CHAPTER ONE:

It was a very cold day; Mama made us wear hats and gloves and clunky snow boots, but the worst offender in my 8 year old opinion, was the fact she forced me to wear a fleece over my long sleeve shirt with the sparkly pink hearts, and then a heavy winter coat to top it all, covering my favorite outfit that happened to be perfectly apt for the month of February… who had time to worry about layering for the weather, when Valentine’s Day gave us the perfect excuse to wear mushy, pink, glittery hearts in public?!

Prim had just turned four recently, and Daddy decided she was finally old enough to sit through a movie at the theater with us ‘grown ups’ like a big girl. Normally, he would’ve let Prim pick the movie, since it was her first time joining us, but when we got to the theater, I begged to see Bridge to Terabithia, because all the girls in my class had a crush on the main character actor, some Josh Hutcher-something or another, and I really wanted to see what the fuss was about with the boy.

Well, none of my little girlfriends bothered to tell me the movie was so darned sad!

Prim wailed and sobbed despite not really understanding what happened in the story. All she knew was that Mama sniffled and dabbed at the corner of her blue eyes with a wadded-up napkin, and that was enough for her to let her tears fall freely, clinging to Daddy’s neck until hiccups raked her tiny frame.

At the end of the movie, Mama’s eyes were red rimmed but she at least was done sniffling. Daddy and I just sat there stoically, like the hardened leaders of our small clan, we were… if my lips trembled, it had nothing to do with the sap fest we just endured.

Daddy sighed, “Some movies should come with disclaimers.” He grumbled, adjusting Prim on his hip while pulling open the exit door.

“I thought it was great. The young actors were marvelous. Such range of emotion…” Mama gushed, before wiping the corner of her eye daintily. “I’d recommend it to other people, personally.”

Daddy gave her a look, and then Mama amended, “With a warning for grief and depression.” Her lips formed a thin line, but Daddy seemed satisfied, so we walked into the frigid February afternoon and winced in unison as soon as the cold hit our faces.

Prim was still intermittently sobbing.

“Primrose, honey, will a treat help you cheer up some?” Daddy asked quietly, tenderly caressing her cheek.

My baby sister nodded, her pitiful big o’ blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Let’s get you a nice treat then. Let’s take advantage of those neatly shoveled sidewalks our tax money afforded us.” Said Daddy smiling sweetly, his gray eyes twinkling.

We crossed the street and kept on going until we reached the square a block away and then hesitated for a second in front of the ice cream parlor, finally settling for the quaint little bakery two doors down.

Immediately, my cheeks warmed up and I tried to walk with my back a little straighter, just in case a certain baker boy was working that day. My heart rattled against my ribs and I tried real hard to keep my eyes up, but as usual, chickened out last minute and all I could see was the ground.

Daddy walked in making the bell above the entrance chimed cheerfully; he held the door open so Mama and I could scoot into the building. We all stood just inside the door, taking a collective sigh of relief at the warmth and inviting aromas of the bakery: Yeast, sugar and freshly brewed coffee mingled in the air, welcoming.

“Afternoon Everdeens!” Called a deep, velvety and familiar voice from somewhere ahead. “Come on in and make yourselves at home, please!” Mister Peeta smiled, like us, walking into his family’s shop was the highlight of his day.

It surely was mine, of course; not that anyone would’ve been able to tell just by how gun-shy I acted, except from my parents that is.

They knew alright.

They knew all about my crush on the young baker, and at least Mama thought it was cute. Daddy wasn’t too comfortable acknowledging it, so he usually rolled his eyes at Mama about it.

But who wouldn’t have a thing for mister Peeta, really? He was nice, polite, and handsome, with a soft looking face and bright blue eyes, always smiling, and wavy blond hair that curled under the many baseball caps he wore (currently, he donned one with the Mellark’s logo on the front.). He was also strong… or at least I figured he had to be, since he was school wrestling champion and all. I hadn’t witnessed it myself of course, mister Peeta and my folks were ancient compared to me, but I grew up hearing the stories.

Mama and Daddy had been high school sweethearts who’d been in the same grade as mister Rye— mister Peeta’s older brother— so they knew the Mellark brothers some. Daddy said Mr. Peeta was the pride of the town as a teenager, since he became State Wrestling champion in his senior year of high school, a full two years after my folks graduated Panem

high.

“How are you doing, Peeta?” Said Daddy reaching a hand over the counter to shake the baker’s.

Mama waved and smiled, offering her own little “Hello, Peeta.” Then nudged me to do the same, and my eyes about popped out of my sockets when the baker smiled and winked one of his bright, blue eyes at me.

“I heard you’re leaving for Europe soon?” Asked Daddy.

Mister Peeta smiled widely, “Yes! Got accepted to study pastistry at a prestigious school in France. I can’t wait.” His excitement was contagious.

“That’s great, Peeta!” Interjected my mama. “I bet your folks are pleased. The bakery will boom with everything you’ll bring back with that training.”

Mister Peeta nodded, and though he was still smiling, he didn’t look happy. “Full scholarship ride, and I came up with my own ticket and expenses money from a year’s worth of savings. My mother is really pleased.”

For some reason, it didn’t sound like Mrs Mellark was truly pleased. Not for the first time, I thought adults could be so weird when they talked, not saying what they truly meant.

Still, Mama and Daddy offered congratulations again and I felt my stomach knot when Mister Peeta spoke again, and for once my eyes were glued to his kind face.

“Enough about me. Y’all came in right on time,” Mister Peeta clapped his enormous hands once, “I just pulled a tray of cheese buns out of the oven, and sat them to cool on a rack in the back. Let me go grab y’all some. I heard cheese buns are Miss Katniss’ favorites!”

I almost choked at that, and turned my head owlishly to glare at my parents, wondering who’d spilled my secrets behind my back to the handsomest man ever.

Mama was already sitting at a table; she was covering her smile behind the gloves she just pulled off her hands, while Daddy rolled his eyes slightly before sliding into the bench with Prim still wrapped around him like a baby Koala.

So Mama then. She tattled on me.

Traitor!

At Daddy’s behest, I came and sat next to him; Prim on his lap, and all of our coats in the space next to Mama on the opposite side of the half booth.

Mister Peeta came back with a tray bearing hot chocolate in white mugs engraved with ‘Mellark’s’, and a dish piled high with pastries. He placed four small plates in front of each of us, and gifted us with one more of his wide, welcoming grins.

“Tuck in, Everdeens! Enjoy!” The bell above the door chimed with more customers, but right before he left, mr. Peeta leaned closer to me and suggested, “Dip your bread in the chocolate. Is my favorite snack on cold days like today.” He winked again and I almost fainted.

He truly was the handsomest man ever!

Mama’s smile just widened. She tried to hide it behind her cup of cocoa though, but Daddy let out a noise, like a grudgingly amused grunt of sorts.

“Lily,” He warned halfheartedly.

Mama looked up at him, wide, blue eyes innocently. “What?” She mumbled.

“Stop teasing.” He said, sinking his straight teeth into his cheese bun. “She’s too young for crushes. Even on bakers that make amazing cookies and cheese buns. Ain’t that right, Catkin?” Daddy looked at me, arching one bushy eyebrow.

I scowled and turned my nose up at the lot of them before tearing chunks of my bun and dunking them in my hot chocolate. At the first bite, I had to admit, the baker was onto something!

“I don’t know what y’all are yapping about,” I said haughtily.

“There you go,” said Daddy grinning smugly at Mama, “That’s my girl!”

Mama rolled her eyes and waved us off. “Oh well, it’s just puppy love. She’ll grow out of it soon enough, especially when he’s away in Paris and out of sight.”

I chewed on my chocolate infused cheese bun, and my eyes lifted to watch mister Peeta bagging a customer’s order, taking payment with a grateful smile.

My heart drummed harshly in my chest.

I had no idea what the love of puppies had to do with anything, but I found it hard to believe the strange feeling of bubbles popping in my tummy would go away any time soon, even if I didn’t see the baker ever again.

————————-

My 16th birthday brought me a set of wheels, in the form of my daddy’s ancient but still reliable pick-up truck. But with the wheels, came Daddy’s caveats.

“Young lady, if you want to be driving around town, here are the rules,” he stated, “You gotta drive your sister to and from school. No boys—“

“Or girls!” Interjected Mama, passing to the couch with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“Or girls,” Daddy continued glaring at Mama, “Unless Mama or I are in the truck with y’all.”

That one earned him a big groan from me, not that I’d planned on having friends ride with me places; after all, Gale had been driving his daddy’s old Jeep for the last two years, and Madge just got a new Volkswagen Beetle for her birthday, despite having failed her driving tests… twice! So we all had our own transportation, thank you very much.

“And, you are to keep the tank of the truck at least half full at all times.”

“Alright. That’s cool—“ I started, but was swiftly interrupted.

“What your daddy means is, Sweet pea, you are responsible for your own gas. We won’t pay for it, unless it’s an emergency.” Said Mama delicately, her eyes shifting to Daddy’s for support, which he gave in a curt nod of his graying head.

“Wait… what?” I stared at them in turn. “You mean I need to come up with my own gas money?” I asked just to clarify. “Even while having to chauffeur Prim around, like I’m a courtesy shuttle driver?”

“Lily, our daughter is a genius!” Said Daddy with his goofy dad smirk, “Haven’t I said so a million times before?”

Mama giggled, “You sure have, Dear. Our Katniss is one bonafide genius!”

Truth be told, the prospect of having spending money of my own was actually exciting for me. We lived a decent life, not luxurious like the Undersee’s, or as tight as the Hawthorne’s, but comfortable enough to always have a pocketful of allowance dough; but having my actual money, without having to ask for it or justify why I needed it, was very appealing to me.

I still groaned at my folks for their exuberance. I didn’t mind working hard; I’ve always helped Daddy doing house work around our place, and never complained about the daily chores imposed by Mama growing up; having an honest to God paying job sounded kind of… liberating. Like I was an adult, instead of a kid.

“You should try the shops in town,” Mama suggested. “Something close by that won’t interfere with school—“

“Or archery club—“ Father chimed in.

“Or soccer.” Said Prim crossing the room out of nowhere and plopping on the couch next to Mama, to munch on her popcorn. The demand was for her, since I didn’t play the sport. “I can’t miss practice. Rue would have a fit if I get kicked out.”

“Fine! I’ll go ask around town if anyone needs help.” I made a show of rolling my eyes and shrugging, but inside, my blood quickened with the excitement of my impending job hunt.

Twenty eight hours later, I was stumbling out of the Sweet’s store in town square, walking backwards and grinning like a lunatic.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Donner! Really. You won’t regret it! Thank you again!” I gushed and barely repressed a squeal of excitement, “I’ll see you Monday. Bye!”

I had to grab on to the frame of the open door, not to fall on my bottom like an uncoordinated noodle when I tripped on my own feet, and finally pulled myself away from the store front. I turned on my heel and practically skipped down the sidewalk, giggling non-stop. I managed to reel it in and climbed on my truck before pumping the air with my fists in a tiny victory dance.

Everything was coming up Katniss, and my spirits soared high!

I got myself a job, and while it wasn’t my first option— Mr. Mellark said his bakery was fully staffed at the time— I had effectively secured myself a source of gas money, which was my main concern and the literal driving force behind my job hunt. I counted as a perk, the fact that Mellark’s Bakery was sitting across the square from the Sweet Shop and I was granted an unobstructed view of the front room of the bakery from behind my counter, because watching the Mellark men working was just inspiring. And I meant that in a non creepy way… hopefully.

I tried not to be as obvious with my crush on Mr. Peeta, but I wasn’t deaf and his mama— dubbed The Witch, by the town youngsters— enjoyed bragging loudly about her successful business, and a good chunk of that came from Peeta’s success as a baker. I pretty much knew anything a nosy sixteen year old girl could know about a guy twenty years her senior, hoarding all kinds of gossip about him like a dragon hoards gold.

Being only a few years younger than my own father, Mister Peeta graduated from Panem U when I was a toddler. He earned a business degree he’d really never used; then, he went to Paris-France for almost three years, and trained with the best chefs in the pastry business, returning to our small town to open up his own high end patisserie, but since the economy had taken a dive those days and his shop was so new and fancy, he was forced to close up and take over the cakes and pastry side of Mellark’s, until things stabilized for new businesses. Sadly, he never ventured back on his own, which was a downright shame, because the man was a culinary genius and so artistic at that.

Currently, he worked weekend’s at Mellark’s while teaching at the Pastry school in Capitol City… not that I was keeping tabs on the man or anything.

I was just observant that way…

Sort of.

Mrs. Mellark liked to boast about things she had no hand in doing, like her youngest son’s accomplishments and success abroad and locally, but she was also a ruthless disparager who couldn’t care less when and where she criticized her sons or husband when something didn’t go her way. The Witch was always going on and on about Mr. Peeta going to France and becoming an expert cake decorator, and teaching pastrity at some hoity-toity culinary school in Capitol City, as if she herself had done it for him, and in the next breath she’d be groaning about how much of an inconvenience to her it was he went overseas for the training. The woman was a hag, but I couldn’t help people in town were so gossipy and when she started with the stories. I just perked up my ears and gobbled up all the information she was sharing.

Anyway, my mama’s prediction about my infatuation with Mr. Peeta ending, kind of flopped. The crushed endured all the years between his absence to Europe and his return; it was still going strong even at age sixteen, but I had learned to pine discreetly, surreptitiously sneaking peeks at mister Peeta from a distance and daydream about scenarios where the handsome baker finally noticed me, and we fell madly in love with each other and lived happily ever after in a marzipan house, eating all kinds of bread and cake without ever gaining an ounce of weight… Also, in those scenarios, Mr. Peeta was like ten years younger, and nobody batted an eye at us being together.

Of course, I wasn’t delusional. I knew nothing like it would ever happen; after all, Mr. Peeta was nineteen years older than me and devoted to his craft. But dreaming was free, and as long as the fantasies stayed locked in my head, I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself.

————————

My first Saturday morning working at the Candy shop, I parked in the public parking lot, diagonal to the town square, before opening time. The lot was built adyacente to a few city offices to accommodate anyone running errands downtown, like paying their license tags, filing taxes, getting permits of miscellaneous natures, or simply taking a stroll around the square at dusk, licking on a frozen treat from the ice cream parlor or having dinner at the pizza place. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to park there if one worked in one of the mom-and-pop shops littering the picturesque merchant center of Panem.

I could’ve used the designated parking spaces on the road behind the sweets store, but there was a humongous dumpster next to ours, and Ms. Donner hadn’t given me a key to the back door yet, so even if the threadbare upholstery of my truck wasn’t threatening to absorb the stench of the whole neighborhood’s trash, there wasn’t any benefit to me parking there.

I yawned dispassionately tossing my keys in the new purse Prim gave me when I announced I’d found a job, because according to her, I was now a grown-up and needed a proper purse instead of my ratty messenger bag, that honestly had seen better days. I swept the bag off the bench and slammed the door shut without bothering to lock it. There was nothing in the cab worth stealing; everyone knew me and my folks, we were just another run of the mill middle class family, without any wealth to our names.

“Ouch!” A velvety, deep voice spoke from a little ways over, and my whole body went rigidly straight. “Shouldn’t treat your steed so harshly, Hunter. I don’t think old Francine appreciates it.”

I turned on my heels and peered at Mr. Peeta trying to keep myself from screeching in a panic or something equally embarrassing.

The man was just straightening up from retrieving a chef jacket from the back seat of what I surmised was his car, and lifted his gaze in my direction with a slight smirk on his lips that quickly fell off, giving way to a confused expression, as his bright, blue eyes fixed on mine. “You ain’t Hunter,” he mumbled, squinting a little.

To his credit, it had been a while since he saw me last, despite me keeping tabs on him and stealing glances when I could. He had no reason to seek me out or anything, plus he was a busy man, always in the back room of the bakery working his pastillage gifts. Then again… ‘Francine’— my daddy’s former ‘89 F150– was like forever linked to Hunter Everdeen’s persona or something.

“Katniss?” Mr. Peeta frowned, like fog was slowly lifting from his mind and vague recognition finally set in, making my heart lurch and beat unbearably fast.

I nodded mutely, but soon I answered a spastic, “Morning, mister Peeta. How do you do?” My mama hadn’t drilled sixteen years worth of relentless Southern hospitality for me to stay silent for long. I hesitated a second and trudged along without giving him a chance to respond, scowling at the ground, “Francine, she’s sturdy,” I chance a glance at his face, “But you’re right, she’s too old to be treated poorly. I’ll make sure to be gentler with her in the future.”

Mr. Peeta arched his eyebrows, as if surprised by my mere voice. He tugged the collar of his plain white t-shirt, and then huffed a chuckle.

“Little Miss Katniss is driving now,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. He eyed me curiously, “Well, I guess you’re not little anymore. But wow! What a way to humble a man about his old age.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, making me shift in place in mild arousal.

He draped his chef’s shirt over his forearm and closed his car door softly. “I have no words to describe how I feel, discovering young Katniss Everdeen is old enough to drive Francine,” He tsked at his boots, but his smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “End of an era… for me at least. Beginning of a new one for you, I supposed.” He smiled self deprecatingly.

My face burned and my chest tightened at his words, not sure if I felt elation or embarrassment.

“Oh… you ain’t old, sir.” I waved him off, still scowling for no good reason.

Mr. Peeta laughed. “You’re too kind, Miss Katniss, but my I.D. disagrees. Plus, knowing you’re old enough to drive is a sobering thought.” He smiled kindly again.

“I turned sixteen a week and a half ago. Daddy gave me the truck for passing my driving test.” I volunteered without prompting.

“Neat! Spring baby, then. Makes sense. Suits you.” Mr. Peeta smiled, and I got incredibly shy, excited and happy at his short words.

“Yeah, May 8th.” I offered softly, “That’s me. Spring baby.”

“As I said, it suits you. I’m a wintry kid myself, so I try to be extra warm to counteract any cold disposition I might have.” He said, checking his watch.

I panicked slightly; I knew time was closing in, and I’d be dismissed soon, so I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “What brings you out here so early on a Saturday morning, anyway?”

Mr. Peeta cocked his head sideways and glanced at me curiously. “Work.” He said in an amused, lilting tone. He lifted his arm to point at his chef uniform laid neatly folded.

I clamped my mouth immediately, to prevent any other ‘brilliant’ questions might escape.

Mr. Peeta smirked, probably realizing what a dork I was. “How about you? It’s awfully early for a kid to be downtown.” His face took a distant quality for his next words. “When I was your age, my mother would beat me out of bed for my Saturday shifts at the bakery… all I wanted to do was lay in bed until noon, you know. But, baker’s hours aren’t exactly flexible.”

My whole face twisted at that tidbit of information. I couldn’t read his emotion about his comment, which bothered me somehow. I started talking just because I disliked the way his face turned blank.

“I’m a morning person myself.” I shrugged. But my folks made me get a job so I could finance my gas addiction,” I was smuggly pleased when the baker started laughing heartily at my silly joke. It felt nice, knowing I said something he found funny. “Anyway, I’m working too. At Ms. Donner’s shop.”

“Nice! Good taffy. Did old Maysilee offer to pay you in candy? I swear she did that to my brother, Bannock, one summer he decided to give another shop a try. ” He said conversationally, activating the alarm of his car.

“Oh, gosh!” I laughed, “No, she offered to give me a check every two weeks.” Then I looked at him dead in the eye, “Now the Christmas bonuses, those are in candy.”

We both laughed at that

Mr. Peeta nodded. “Well, Miss Katniss, I won’t keep you much longer, but if you need anything… a cheese bun for example,” He winked, putting my heart a flutter again, “Don’t hesitate to come in!”

With that, he started walking towards the narrow street behind the row of shops, no doubt heading to the back door of the bakery.

“Bye, Mister Peeta!” I croaked out belatedly.

Peeta waved over his shoulder.

All I could think after the encounter was how wrong my parents had been about my “puppy love” being a passing crush.

……………………………..

Josh Hurcherson starred in Bridge to Terabithia, which came out in February of 2007. To this day, I can’t watch that movie without bawling my eyes out. Everyone should see it!

#Springtime Edition 2020 #submission #alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 67

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hockeysweetheart · 4 years

Text

This is just a theory I have

Haymitch’s Games 50th 48 tributes in the arena Haymitch went to the conucopia got weapons because the other Tributes were distracted by the beauty of the arena.

Before this point. tho It wasn’t known when the whole Districts interacting was banned but I guess after Haymitch’s games. Unless you are a victor. Katniss is the one who remembers it forbidden to go to other Districts .That was my best guess in effect After Haymitch’s Games when the stunt he pulled was a form of an act of rebelling. And also made the Capitol look bad which is one thing they are like oh hell no about.

Haymitch on his victory Tour. This was months after the death of his family and girl.. But they kept Haymitch alive because they have to have a victor right would be even a more slap in the face if they Killed Haymitch too. Haymitch knew about the room with no Cameras in District 11 right. For Katniss and Peeta victory tour Katniss made note of this... So How did Haymitch know about that in 11. Because the buildings are all different. Because pehaps his Mentor needed a come to Jesus moment up there with Haymitch on his tour. or just to talk without cameras around. or Haymitch said something that caused a talk into that dorm.

Another thing In Haymitch’s time tho he did meet the Victors on the tour Unlike Katniss and Peeta. Because Katniss noted on the Victor tours this has happened.

In District 12 the 50th Games are not talked about like at all we all know why is because the Capitol doesn’t want to show that they were the laugh of Panem because of Haymitch’s actions Also using a weapon that wasn’t suppose to be huge no no..

So Now Up until Haymitch he was the only victor to mentor for District 12 from the District... And the Mentor program was invented for the 10th Games with Lucy Grey winning but if you read the book you know what happened she wouldn’t dare become the mentor which it was assumed in the past the other victor Katniss knew of but didn’t know the name was Haymitch’s mentor now with The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes we know that didn’t happen. No Lucy Grey was not Haymitch’s mentor. So who mentored the tributes from 12 for the next 40 Years bet it changed around a bit Might of at first been some poor soul from the Capitol.

Now this is who I think possible could of been Haymitch’s mentor Chaff from District 11 he won the 45th Games. so he would of been in his 20s around Haymitch’s. They are friends Katniss noted this a few times. I have a list of reasons why It’s possible it could of been Chaff.

. Peeta killed Brutus because he Killed Chaff. Now Peeta is not one to really kill in the games. Peeta did rewatch the Victors games and wrote notes about it. It is stupid easy to edit things out like When Katniss and Peeta watched Haymitch’s it is easy to not add mentors to it. So maybe it is possible between watching Haymitch’s and Chaff’s he put two and two together. The bond of mentors is deeper then friendships. Peeta did want him as an ally but wasn’t 100% sold on it. Now Peeta really wasn’t to be the one to defend him unless a stronger reason. Like he was not to blame, Not his district partner not apart of his alliance. Or someone close to him. Sure he was from 11 but that only goes so far... Even if a friend to Haymitch.. But if a mentor to someone then it’s like you instant feel guilt for not doing something about. In all Peeta should of been okay that Brutus took out Chaff so he didn’t have to... Now I know in the moment it was because Peeta saw it and was like on a mission to find Katniss. and he was like well we all have to die to save Katniss.. But I have many questions to how Peeta pulled off killing Brutus.

Chaff is from 11 so he would possible know about the building and cameras and such.. That this room never has cameras in it. Ditch the mic and we can talk in here.

Also Haymitch said I’d choose Distirct 11 ( Chaff) for Allies to Katniss Peeta when he told them they needed Allies this round. Kartniss didn’t want him Mainly because he surprised kissed her when the victors where playing with Katniss being so pure. And she wasn’t sold on him after she met him..

.My second one is Beetee who also won The hunger Games before Haymitch. For one he would be able to tell Haymitch about force fields and would be the type to say well the arena has to end somewhere right. Also he would know where cameras are in a building or not so possible he could of brought him to the room in 11 away from cameras and being heard. But the books and movies don’t show anything that shows the Mentor Victor Bond so It is possible but unlikely. also he was totally on board when Katniss told Haymitch he wanted Beetee as an ally

Below is some parts from the book

"Both of you. With me," says Haymitch. Peeta and I follow him, leaving the others behind. The Peacekeepers who are stationed around the Justice Building take little interest in our movements now that we are safely inside. We ascend a magnificent curved marble staircase. At the top, there's a long hall with worn carpet on the floor. Double doors stand open, welcoming us into the first room we encounter. The ceiling must be twenty feet high. Designs of fruit and flowers are carved into the molding and small, fat children with wings look down at us from every angle. Vases of blossoms give off a cloying scent that makes my eyes itch. Our evening clothes hang on racks against the wall. This room has been prepared for our use, but we're barely there long enough to drop off our gifts. Then Haymitch yanks the microphones from our chests, stuffs them beneath a couch cushion, and waves us on. As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staircases and increasingly narrow halls. At times he has to stop and force a door. By the protesting squeak of the hinges you can tell it's been a long time since it was opened. Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. It's a huge place filled with broken furniture, piles of books and ledgers, and rusty weapons. The coat of dust blanketing everything is so thick it's clear it hasn't been disturbed for years. Light struggles to filter in through four grimy square windows set in the sides of the dome. Haymitch kicks the trapdoor shut and turns on us. "What happened?" he asks.

Chaff, a man from 11 who I know to be one of Haymitch's particular friends, is also in.

I know Chaff by sight because I've spent years watching him pass a bottle back and forth with Haymitch on television. He's dark skinned, about six feet tall, and one of his arms ends in a stump because he lost his hand in the Games he won thirty years ago. I'm sure they offered him some artificial replacement, like they did Peeta when they had to amputate his lower leg, but I guess he didn't take it.

#The Hunger Games #Hunger Games #catching fire #CatchingFire #thg #haymitch abernathy #haymitch #chaff #beetee #mockingjay

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whataplottwistyouwere · 4 years

Text

My answer to @ottogatto

We have. Every right. To dislike a character. And like another. Especially if they are very different. No matter if it bothers you.

Okay first of all, of course I have no right to tell you what you should say or what you should think.

What I meant was you say Snape is a grey character and you said he bullied, yes. But you forgave him. And yet you can’t forgive James Potter. Who bullied Snape,yes. But who became an amazing person. He was whiter than Snape.

Theres one thing I still can’t understand. HOW CAN YOU JUSTIFY SNAPES BULLYING AND NOT JAMES’S. Of course you can hate James, but you can’t hate him for his bullying; because yourself, is supporting a bully. Which means you have unreasonable hatred AGANIST James.

And of course you can have it. It’s your life and you can do whatever you want. But you have to UNDERSTAND THAT HE WAS A BULLY TOO.

And as much as you have the right to hate James I have the right to hate Snape. And I know you are aware of it.

I understand people liking Snape, but there’s two things I can’t stand. People hating James and people shipping Snily🤮🤮🤮. Im fully aware that everyone can have their opinions. But when i posted a funny post about “Albus S**erus”’s name IN MY OWN BLOG people attacked me.

I didn’t ever blame James for protecting his friends -- I literally said that was “Good” or “Great”. I literally said that the fact he joined the Order was good. I didn’t forget it. I pointed out his flaws just like you exclusively did on Snape’s part.

Yes, but no one wants to read James’s good traits and when they do; they say “good” “great”. The thing you say “good” and “great” to is him risking his own life for the wizarding world. I think he deserves more than “good”

And everyone is so focused on what James did as a 15 year old, a teenager; no one wants to see him as an adult. I’m so sad for James. Can you imagine it? You Do your best for your family and for the wizarding world and get hated because you bUlLiEd a death eater. I’m sure you all went to Highschool. Is every snape’s Fans are saints? No. Did you do nothing bad?!

Snape did everything I talked about as an adult. But Snape Fans ARENT over what a 15 year old boy did! So I’ll discuss that for hours.

There is no evidence that Snape killed people, you made it up (unless you count how he led Lily and James to their deaths, despite his efforts to prevent this). In fact, his position as a spy clearly states that he wasn’t on the battlefield slaughtering people. On the contrary, Voldemort sent him to try and have him as a spy teacher, which means that Snape couldn’t be known to kill people in the meantime. We have further evidence: Bellatrix does blame Snape for “always slithering out of action” as a spy, which point out that as a double-agent (and later as Dumbledore’s spy), he tried not to kill people. On the other hand I could say that James could have killed people. Why not? If McGonagall says “we fight to kill” and if James hate those Death Eaters so much he could have killed the people of the other side.

You said Snape probably didn’t kill anyone because he was a spy. You are wrong. Snape became a spy after Lily died. So in the First Wizarding War, he wasn’t a spy. He was a death eater on the field. Also Bellatrix Blamed Snape on HBP, which is the Second Wizarding War. I never said snape killed people in the 2.WW. I said in the the First wizarding war.

James was an auror. Of course he killed people. He killed Death Eaters. ITS NOT A BAD THING LMAOOOOOO. Every auror killed Death Eaters. Dumbledore,McGonagall,Sirius,Remus, and literally everyone who fought for the right side

The level of Fred and George’s hexing -- even though I don’t like how they burned a hold through Ron’s tongue, imprisoned Montague in a limbo, and killed an animal for fun -- doesn’t reach at all the level of bullying James and the Marauders perpetrated. In fact, Harry thinks, in OotP, that even Fred and George wouldn’t do what they did.

Ohh, you don’t like Fred and George too. To be honest , I’m just repeating myself at this point. If you don’t like Fred and george, how can I expect you to like James.

WE CALL IT PRANKS. OF COURSE I DONT SUPPORT ALL OF FRED&GEORGES ACTIONS NOR MARAUDERS’s ACTIONS. But you hate them for their pranks (yeah, I’ll say pranks because what they did to Snape was mutual. “Snape Never missed a time to hex James” THIS IS CANON. Yes, he might not have tried to curse James after that exam. BUT IT DOESNT MEAN HE NEVER DID!!! BUT YES BLAME AN AMAZING MAN WHO FOUGHT FOR THE RIGHT SIDE, FOR ONE FRICKIN MEMORY. This whole story is one sided because we only saw James bully not Snape)

He used Dark Magic as self-defense in SWM -- the Marauders chocked him, tormented him, sent him to his death, sexually assaulted him. Dark Magic could have been punished by the professors. Doesn’t excuse the Marauders for bullying. Whether. Or not. They use Dark Magic. What’s the point of repeating myself though if you don’t want to understand my points in my previous answer?

Okay don’t trying to be rude, but aren’t you a little bit dramatic here. “Chocked him, tormented him,.....” LMAOOO. Im sorry but you cant prove that they s*xualy assualted him because it was never said that they removed his underwear or not. Also dark magic SHOULDNT be considered. YES YOU HAVE TO STICK UP FOR YOURSELF BUT DARK MAGIC ISNT THE ANSWER. And if you think, using dark magic is acceptable; I don’t think I can change your mind

Also in the Werewolf Incident, it’s %100 Sirius’s fault. I will not defend him. But I’m sure he didn’t want him to die. But James risked his life for Snape. Also you said “why Snape would ask forgiveness for his bully [to Voldemort]” Because when you are a nice person, you don’t care whether you like this person or not. You don’t want anyone to die. Even if that’s your biggest enemy. Don’t I have people who I hate? yes. But I would never want their death. And so didn’t James, so he saved Snape’s life’s . But sure , ignore this too.

Snape said that what Mulciber/Avery/other Slytherins did to Mary (and we don’t know what that was) is a joke -- he uses the same excuse as the Marauders in front of Lily, who bites the bait. This allows him to point out to Lily that they are no different. I do wish not to repeat myself about how Hermione mutilated someone’s face and gets out with it, though it could have been Dark Magic as well, seeing how it can’t get off and how serious this is (doesn’t mean I hate her -- I actually like Hermione).

I don’t love Hermione, and I don’t know if it’s dark magic or not; so I don’t think I can argue about that. But however, I want to point something out. Snape said “it was a joke” to Dark Magic while Marauders used prank spells

See the difference ?

Okay so, you can’t stand James bullying and I can’t stand Snape bullying. But they were teenagers, weren’t they? Okay. I’ll hypothetically forgive Snape for what he did as a teenager and you’ll hypothetically forgive James for what he did as a teenager

All of the reasons you hate James is from his teenager hood (?). You are hating a 15 year old CHILD. Okay. Let’s skip to the adult part. Who was a death eater as an adult and who was a member of the OOTP as an adult. Every Snape fan loves Lily. And lily loves James. Do you think James gave Lily drugs and made her fall in love LMAOOOOO. In the end of the day LILY CHOOSE JAMES. Lily is no one’s property and she doesn’t belong with Snape. She’s her own person and she choose James. If James is that horrible person you keep talking about how do Lily love him? How do McGonagall and all of the teachers love him. I was trying to stay calm when I wrote 728281 essays. But I keep repeating the same thing because no one reads them and they just reply from their deliusuonal world. I was on my phone all day, and I did nothing else. Of course, no one is forcing me and I love debating. But my essays don’t change anything at all!! I feel like I wrote them for nothing and I keep repeating it.

It isn’t confirmed that if Lily’s son hadn’t been threatened then Snape wouldn’t have changed sides. You made it up. Because guess what? I can still say he would have changed sides because he was growing disgusted by Voldemort’s actions, or because he couldn’t bear knowing that Lily was undergoing too much danger. And what if he wouldn’t have changed sides? Doesn’t matter, because he did it in the end, which doesn’t make it less brave. There are a bunch of heroes who wouldn’t have lifted a finger for the right cause hadn’t their loved ones been threatened (Katniss, Eren, etc) and yet does it make them less heroic? No because you don’t only judge someone by their initial motive -- but by their actions. Snape was the reason many were saved -- including Harry, Hermione and Neville, mind you. Which would make me repeat again my earlier poin

Yes it is confirmed. This question was asked to JKR in 2007(I’m sorry I’m not sure about the year) JKR wasn’t a bad person back then, and the books/movies were JUST released. Someone asked “would snape change sides if Lily wasn’t in danger” and she answered “no. he probably wouldn’t, I don’t think so” which is another proof that, snape changed sides because of his own selfish reasons.

And you are wrong about the hero thing. If lily wasn’t in danger, snape would contiune being a death eater and kill innocent people. Of course Katniss wouldn’t volunteer if her loved ones weren’t in danger. But even if Katniss didn’t volunteer. She was a nice person. Even before she volunteered she was a hero who tried to help people. The problem I have is if lily wasn’t in danger snape would kill innocent people. If Prim wasn’t in danger would Katniss kill innocent people? no. She would’ve continued living. That’s the difference.

Also as I said before I have an amazing discussion why Snape isn’t brave. Please read that because I’m so tired of repeating myself. My problem isn’t with Snape. My problem is him being overrated and him being “the bravest man” but he actually isn’t

I’ve already proven to you that bullying is always one-sided (especially 4-on-1 bullying) and that Snape “didn’t bully James back” but was actually trying to mind his own business -- that what Sirius says is what bullies typically say to blame the victim and thus sees his words put into question.

As many Snape Fans you are making excuses and the excuse here is “Sirius’s POV is biased”.

But what if it’s not. You can’t hate someone because of the possibility of Sirius having a biased POV. It’s only a possibility.

And you know what else is a possibility. Snape’s POV might be biased too. What if he’s overreacting. It’s his own memory. We cant be sure it’s %100 true.

Yet I act and answer like it’s %100 true because we have no proof that says otherwise. Same with Sirius, you have to act like it’s canon.

Also if James didn’t change why would Lily marry him. You can’t say Lily’s mind was biased, can you? LMAOOO

Indeed he bullied Neville and Harry. Wow. Big news of the Earth. But do rest assured that Snape, if given the choice, wouldn’t have stayed a teacher. He was a spy, not a teacher. He was an adult, and what do the other adults in HP? Molly tells her children to respectfully call him “Professor Snape”, Lupin says that Snape was right in some points, McGonagall stays friends with him, the other professors seem to quite like him, Dumbledore let him be harsh/bullying. Well I mean, when McGonagall uses death threats as punishment and shames Neville, when Trelawney shoves a book in Neville’s belly in rage, when Flitwick shrieks at his students and throws Trevor at the other side of the classroom -- because if you hadn’t read it, Neville was said not to be coddled in other courses as well -- when at least half of the teachers in Hogwarts should go have a check with an organization that tells them how to behave, I’m not going to blame Snape only. Personally I would have left the school the moment I knew the professors and Dumbledore allowed extreme bullying to occur, left barely punished.

Oh poor Snape. Did he do a job he hated!!! HOW CAN YOU USE THIS AS AN EXCUSE. HE BULLIED CHILDREN. THE CHILDREN HE WAS RESPONSIBLE OF. AND HIM NOT WANTING JOB IS AN EXCUSE!!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME. This is absolutely no excuse. None of us do what we want to , but you can’t take your anger or your hatred from innocent children

I explained to you the Boggart. It’s up to you to listen or no.

Of course I listened to you, but I don’t think it has explanation nor an excuse. What he did was unforgivable and unjustifiable

Snape changed and I have given you the evidence. That he didn’t act nice -- even that I would partially explain as being his play as a deep cover double agent. What would Voldemort do if he learned that he coddled Neville? And really, he mostly wanted Neville to try and once succeed at following recipes, not making the potion explode or melt the cauldron along with his feet. Did he go out of his way to track Harry and Neville down to assign them detention? Did he mock Neville for being the child of vegetative parents? Clearly you haven’t seen the worst.

Clearly I haven’t seen the worst!!! Excuse me!! He humiliated him in front of Slytherins which ended up him getting bullied. He ruined his self esteem and he wasn’t able to do anything. He already had a hard childhood and he made him feel like a piece of sh** PLEASE DONT TRY TO MAKE AN EXCUSE. SNAPE FU**ED UP NEVILLES CHILDHOOD AND HIS MENTAL HEALTH. DO YOU THINK ITS OKAY. “It IsNt ThE WoRsT” I THOUGHT THIS TOPIC WAS OFF DEBATABLE. BULLYING A CHILD YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE OF ISNT OKAY.

I mean, Snape did become a young adult and tried to cope with what he lived. Wanna know how? He came to think that emotions were weaknesses (indeed it could cost his life), that discipline was essential, that rule-breaking was intolerable, and that you must be rigorous in your work. That those who “hold their hearts on their sleeves” are foolish and weak. Ah yes, that happens when you lived the last 22 years in the very place in which you were bullied, without access to any psychological help.

To be honest I don’t know why I’m discussing this with you, if you have this moral!!! HARD DISCIPLINE WAS NECESSARY!!!! THIS ISNT HARD DISCIPLINE THIS IS BULLYING. ACCEPT IT.

Still - I understand if you don’t like Snape for his bullying attitude. What I don’t agree with, on the other hand, is how you claim that Snape’s Patronus was a sign of obsession. I wonder what that makes Tonks then, whose Patronus changed as well? Or Harry having his father’s Patronus (oof)? Besides assuming that Snape’s Patronus changed at all -- you say that true love isn’t obsession. Guess what? Patronuses represent true love. Snape wasn’t obsessed, but James showed obsessive misogynistic behavior against Lily -- I proved it twice. If you’re going to tell me that characters can’t have Patronuses of the other sex and that Patronuses of different sexes (male/female) are the true sign of love while Patronuses of the same gender equals obsession then I’m going to call you homo/queerphobic. Yeah, have you thought about what those later assumptions meant?

If you want to I can discuss why James and Lily are soulmates. Why Jily is superior and why Snily is even disgusting to think.

Snape didn’t ruin Harry’s childhood. Voldemort did. If not for Snape Harry would have had no childhood. Especially when you know that the only reason Lily was given a choice to sacrifice her life for Harry (thus giving blood protection) is because Voldemort was convinced by Snape to spare her. If Snape hadn’t asked this, Lily would have had no choice but to die, and Harry would have followed. Must I mention how Harry would have been killed at 11 if not for Snape.

Also let’s love snape; who supposedly protected Harry. “You know what Harry, your mom didn’t loved me 82929 years ago also your dad was cooler than me, so I will treat you and your friends like sh*t

He never changed nor matured. He didn’t move on from Lily but he abused Harry because of his father.

Also thank you Snape for not killing Harry at 11. If Dumbledore told his suspicions to any other teacher, they would’ve done the same. Thank you Snape for not letting Harry fall from his broom.

And indeed it’s the same thing over and over again: I have the right (and the reasons) to dislike James and love Snape, just as you have the right (and the reasons) to dislike Snape and love James.

I won’t force you to like anyone. But you can’t + shouldn’t hate James because he was a bully. Snape was a bully too. You cant love a bully but also hate a bully. You should find more reasons to hate him. But it’s really hard to find reasons to hate James Potter who sacrificed himself for the world. Of course we will only focus on what he did as a 15 year old child. But what snape did at 15 has 392929 excuses.

Thank you for discussing this with me in an humane way. I highly encourage you to read my previous posts because I mentioned everything. Literally everything. I’m repeating myself at this point

#snape hate #anti snape

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Tacenda - Chapter Twenty One (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 1.2k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Alyssum holds onto your arm tightly, as if she’s afraid that she’ll lose you in this crowd. It’s unlikely, you’d be able to spot her anywhere in here, and she’d be able to do the same thing. It’s partly because she’s required to wear this white outfit in order to be identified as a patient. Just like how you and Finnick were required to wear it at first, too.

The nurses and doctors also have their own outfit too, and you’re a little bit jealous of it. It’s a really cute dress, you wish you were able to wear it. The jumpsuit is a little stiff and kinda itchy, and obviously, everyone is wearing it. You know why the doctors and nurses have a different outfit, of course. It’s because if there was an emergency, they’d be able to distinguish an actual nurse from a regular person.

You all find a spot that’s big enough for you guys to stand. Alyssum is in front of you, Finnick is to your right, and your brothers are to your left.

“Do these happen often?” Reed asks.

“Kinda, yeah.” you tell him, watching as the levels begin to fill up with people coming around to the railing, “We’ve seen a couple of these already. It won’t last long.”

Finnick looks over, “Coin keeps all of her people up to date. Here, everyone is basically seen as one big family.”

“Which means, tread carefully.” you tell them, “Don’t speak out of line, even if you’re unhappy.”

“Force a smile, got it.” Reed nods, he’s taking in the people around you.

“How many people are here?” Mox asks.

“Thousands.” you say, “But not as much as our actual districts. Everything is controlled here.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Mox looks up, “How many floors?”

“Planning your escape?” Finnick teases a little bit, “More than forty.”

You nod, “There’s a bunker below us, for air raid attacks. But I hope we won’t have to go through that again. It was enough for the first time.”

“The first time?” Alyssum asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you play with her hair a little bit, “Peeta had warned us of an attack that was coming. It’s the whole reason why up there,” you point, “Is destroyed.”

“And that was only a couple days ago.” Finnick says, “Like a day or so before you guys were rescued from the training center. It’s still fresh.”

You tilt your head a little bit, “But I can imagine that the Capitol won’t attack again, not so soon. They’ll probably want to keep their nuclear shit, build up again just in case we do cause a full-blown war.”

“It’s not already?” Reed asks.

Finnick laughs, “Not by any means. The districts are rioting, but that’s about it. The Capitol has it under control for now.”

You nod along to this. From everything that you know, they haven’t done anything significant just yet. The Capitol has definitely upped the amount of peacekeepers that reside inside of the districts, just to make sure that they have somewhat of an upperhand. But you’re still talking to Haymitch about what goes on.

The districts are organizing attacks, they’re not sitting by idly while this all happens, they’re doing what they can to further it. Because they don’t want to be ruled like this anymore, they want freedom. The games had worked for so long, but it’s time for a change. It wouldn’t work forever.

Especially if something as simple as two tributes protesting a rule change can ruin the entire system. The gamemakers acted as if it was a big deal, but they normally allow a double-tribute win every ten years. You don’t really see the harm in allowing them to come home together, at all.

It would have been so simple had they not changed it. As if they couldn’t afford to crown another two victors again that year. You guess they were just trying to flex their power to show that their generosity isn’t anything to take seriously. That sometimes it’s just a tease, and that’s it. But they were stupid to do it in the first place.

Katniss and Peeta were smart to make that move, to force their hand like that. It was giving the gamemakers some insight, that tributes are willing to go that far. That they are willing to do anything they can to get home alive, and safe.

And it’s not really unreasonable either, to want to go home and see your family again. So, they should have anticipated a reaction like that, and you can think of a hundred reasons why they should’ve. They made the rule change, they’re both teenagers, they were star-crossed lovers, the list goes on.

Slowly, everyone starts clapping and cheering. You look up to see if Coin is coming forward, and she is. There’s a smile on her face, as she waves for a couple of seconds, before waiting at the microphone for you guys to quiet down. Get it all out of your system now, rather than later.

“Good evening,” she says as soon as the crowd quiets, “Yesterday I authorized a covert rescue mission inside the Capitol. I am pleased to announce that the victors have been liberated!”

The crowd starts cheering again, and you give a little look to Finnick to find that he’s already looking at you. He takes a step closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to his body.

“Let this day mark a historic change, with the mockingjay and the victors beside us. We have sent a clear message to the Capitol, that we will never again endure injustice.” The crowd cheers, “Today, a day in which we reunite family--” she gives a look to where you are standing, you pull Alyssum a little closer, “--friends, and loved ones. Let all of Panem come together

“Not to battle for the amusement of the Capitol, but to join hands in this fight! Let today be the day we promise never to give up. Never to give in until we have made a new Panem. Where leaders are elected, not imposed among us, and where the districts are free to share the fruits of their labor and not fight one another for scraps!”

The cheering is loud enough to make Alyssum flinch and cover her ears. You rub her shoulders a little bit.

“I’m guessing that’s their motto, here?” Reed asks.

“We’re all equal.” you tell him, “Same amount of food, same clothes, same rooms. We all have a job down here, except for us I guess.”

He nods a little bit, thinking.

“This new Panem is on the horizon, but we must take it for ourselves. The road there leads through the sharp mountains and deep ravines of District Two. There, in the heart of Panem’s steepest mountain range lies the Capitol’s principle military facility. We can conquer the stronghold because we are one people, one army, one voice. Because today is our new beginning. Today, we have freed the victors. Tomorrow, Panem!”

The cheering gets significantly louder, and you can’t help but to make a face, tilting your head at the volume of it. Alyssum’s hands are still over her ears, and you look over to see Reed and Mox don’t look as thrilled as you thought they’d be over this declaration.

Eventually, the cheering fizzles into the chant of District Thirteen, as you stare right at Coin.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair tacenda #tacenda #tacenda chapter twenty one

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Fall-ing In Love

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Fall-ing in love. Picture this on a walk on an Autumn day. Chilly day. The leaves have changed, breathing it in… you notice how a dock is still out in the water. You stand on it breathing in that air… until a dog barks which startles you and you fall in. Boy walking the dog jumps into the semi chilly water to save you. He takes you to his house to warm up….he’s cute, btw. Hope this is something you can work with. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125]

Rating: T (to be safe, for mentions of alcohol)

Author’s Note: Canadian!Peeta x American!Katniss, meet-cute. Some of the places are real, including, of course, Manitoba, Winnipeg and Tim Hortons. Some places (and things) are made-up, obviously, so don’t bust me, my Canadian friends. I tried to be as accurate as I could on things I didn’t make up, lol. So, this was getting much too long for a prompt fic, but I am considering continuing it on A03 in the near future. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for the prompt, @katnissandpeeta125!

______________

It was October 9th, and the Everdeens‒Katniss, her sister, Primrose, and their mother‒were currently making the drive up to Manitoba, Canada from their home in Grand Forks, North Dakota. They were traveling to visit their Uncle Haymitch for Canadian Thanksgiving, which fell this year on October 12th.

Katniss and Prim’s mother’s brother was a solitary man, an alcoholic grump, to put it bluntly, who had no real interest in associating with anyone as far as Katniss knew. But her mother had decreed they should all get to know him better. Katniss knew that her motivation lay in regret, regret that she’d lost touch with him after he moved to Canada, and other things… And now that her husband had passed, and with Haymitch being her only living older relative, she wanted them all to forge a closer relationship with the man.

Good luck to them.

Initially, her mother had tried to get Haymitch to visit them in the US, but he’d refused, saying he didn’t plan on leaving his home, ever. Stubborn as a mule. And so, her mother had suggested they visit him. Truth be told, Katniss was shocked that old Haymitch had agreed, and from the sounds of it, it had taken some arm-twisting. But, in the end, Haymitch had welcomed them to stay in his house, saying his casa was their casa. He’d said it was because he couldn’t turn away family, but Katniss suspected it had a lot to do with her mother offering to cook a large meal for him.

Haymitch Abernathy was basically a hermit, a hermit with a very nice, very large home‒he lived in a rustic, spacious log and stone cabin on Lake Victor in the small town of Panem, just outside of Winnipeg. The trip to see him had somehow turned into a three-week ordeal, their mother having decided they might as well make a vacation out of it.

Katniss had no idea how this was going to work. Her mother had promised Haymitch they wouldn’t be a burden, that he’d barely know they were there. Given how big his home appeared in photos, that might be possible, if it weren’t for her mother’s lofty ideals of getting to know him better. Katniss could just picture it: her mother waiting on her uncle hand-and-foot, trying to get them all to bond, organizing family game nights, and consequently, Uncle Haymitch fighting the urge to jump out the window. Well, he might like the being waited on part.

The reason they could take such a long trip was that their mother had her own business she could take anywhere; Prim attended one of those year-round high schools with the unusual breaks, and as for twenty-one-year-old Katniss, she’d long since graduated.

Katniss had been accepted to a state university in North Dakota, but admittedly, she was torn about actually attending. For one, the tuition and fees were outrageous; it had seemed like a waste of money they didn’t have. On top of that, she hadn’t qualified for financial aid, and so, she’d been working her butt off for nearly two years to save up enough to get started. Her mom, and even sixteen-year-old Prim, had been scrimping and saving in order for her to go to college, too. It brought Katniss endless guilt, even more upon the realization that she was no longer certain it was what she wanted.

She didn’t really know what she wanted to study or do with her life; all she knew was that she wanted to take care of her family and see Prim succeed. When their mother shut down for nearly six months after their father died, Katniss had feared everything would fall apart. She didn’t know how to reach her mother, and she hadn’t been prepared to basically become her sister’s caretaker at seventeen. She loved Prim; in fact, Prim was the only person in the living world she was sure she loved, but it had been nearly too much. They’d managed, though, as always.

Now, Prim had dreams of becoming a doctor. She had real potential, too. Medical school was crazy-expensive, though, and Katniss wondered if perhaps her college money would be better invested in helping Prim reach her goal. Katniss was more of the worker bee, anyway. She’d been thinking about this a lot on their drive up, that is when Prim wasn’t prodding her into singing along with the radio (because she loved her voice) and playing car games.

The Everdeens had taken an alternative route to Canada because Prim had expressed interest in visiting the International Peace Garden. When they arrived at the border, a friendly guard with an accent not too dissimilar from Katniss and Prim’s mother greeted them. He went about his routine check and sent them on their way with no issue, and they entered their neighbor to the north.

Although they’d gone out of their way quite a bit, for Katniss, it was worth it to see Prim’s face as they walked through the floral (fortunately still in bloom) grounds of the Peace Garden. They toured the Sunken Garden and saw the Promise of Peace sculpture, a set of hands releasing a dove, which Prim loved and had to snap selfies of herself by, along with the entire family. They moved on to the North American Game Warden Museum, which Katniss found interesting, and then to the floral clock, another favorite of Prim’s. After that, they had a small picnic in the picnic area and finished off their tour.

______________

Because of the detour, the Everdeens didn’t arrive at Haymitch’s place until well after three. Haymitch’s wooden home was adjacent to the serene blue-green Lake Victor, surrounded by tall evergreen trees and a mix of pine, balsam, ash, and poplar, whose leaves had transformed into a palette of brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges. Upon first inspection, it seemed to be the perfect escape into nature.

When they pulled up, Katniss saw Haymitch exiting his home and approaching their car.

“Well, there they are,” greeted her old uncle in his still-Americanized accent. He was obviously trying to sound peppy, but Katniss could tell he was skeptical about all this. So was she.

Shutting her driver’s side car door, “Hello, Haymitch,” her mother greeted him with a smile. She stepped forward, reaching out for him. Haymitch met her halfway and gave her a squeeze. He also hugged Prim, then reluctantly turned to Katniss.

There was no need to bother with it or mince words‒they both knew the other wasn’t a hugger, and they accepted that. Haymitch forced himself with his sister and with Prim, and as for Katniss, she didn’t really like being touched by anyone except Prim, and previously, her father.

“How ya doing, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, keeping his distance as if she was something venomous. Okay by her.

“Fine, Haymitch,” she replied. “And you?”

“Just dandy. Uh,” he turned back to the other two, “why don’t y’all come in,” he offered, motioning with his hand toward the house. They followed him inside, only to stand in the foyer for several awkward moments before Haymitch offered them the grand tour.

The place was indeed large, with high ceilings supported by long, thick logs and massive windows, which could definitely use a dusting but beheld incredible views just the same. It was refreshingly uncluttered, aside from a substantial collection of alcohol behind his bar and in the liquor cabinet. Surprise, surprise. Haymitch warned the girls about sneaking some of his liquor, but that was neither here nor there. Katniss had never touched the stuff in her life and didn’t plan to start now, and Prim would never do such a thing. Always sweet as peaches, she’d never even gone through a rebellious teenage phase.

Next, Haymitch showed them to their rooms‒there were enough for all of them to have one to themselves. Katniss took the smallest guest room, giving her mother the largest and her sister the one with the best view. Katniss didn’t plan on staying in the house much, anyway.

After that, her mother got right to work, settling in and cleaning up around Haymitch’s place before announcing she was going to start dinner. Haymitch grumbled a little, but ultimately, didn’t stop her, especially with the promise of food hanging in the air. And while his sister made herself at home, Haymitch opted for taking a bottle of whiskey and a glass to his favorite chair.

______________

After a big meal and a little conversation, the Everdeens retired to their respective rooms. Katniss assumed her mother would be reading and Prim would be listening to music or on her phone if she didn’t lose signal, and as for Katniss, she was planning to go out tomorrow morning, so she prepared her bag and went to sleep.

That night, Katniss dreamt of her father. She hadn’t done so in a long time, but being in this place brought him readily to mind. It was the woods. Being in the woods reminded her so much of him. She wasn’t sure how to feel about her mind suddenly being flooded with thoughts of her dad. On the one hand, her memories of him were cherished, but on the other, sometimes forgetting was easier…

______________

In the still of morning, just as the sun peeked out over the horizon, Katniss slipped out of bed. The house was peacefully quiet, aside from the typical early morning noises emanating from the wilderness outside. She dressed quickly and took the stairs as softly as possible, avoiding the couple of spots she’d discovered creaked loudly. She walked into the wide-open living room and was surprised to find Haymitch already awake, seated in his green overstuffed chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table, staring out the windows. He didn’t even turn to look at her when he said, “Good mornin’.”

“Good morning,” she muttered back, stepping into her boots she’d left by the door. She laced them up and grabbed her father’s old, leather hunting jacket.

“Going out?” he asked in a gruff, groggy tone.

Katniss shrugged on the jacket. She could tell by the air that slipped in through the cracks of the windows upstairs that it was chilly out, but she had on layers, so she should stay warm enough.

“Yeah,” she said, hiking her bag up onto her shoulder.

Katniss expected her uncle to question where she was going (she didn’t really know where) and when she’d be back (she didn’t know that, either) as her mother and Prim would, but all he said was, “There’s some bear spray on the table. Take it with you.”

She could get used to this, decided Katniss. A quick verbal exchange or, even better, none. She lightly pressed her lips together and thanked her uncle as she snatched the canister of deterrent from off the table and stuck it in her pants pocket. And she went outside.

It was, indeed, chilly out, but not the unpleasant kind that cuts straight through you to the bone. Katniss observed the morning mist rising on the water and breathed in the perfect scent of trees and distant mountain air. Again, she was reminded of her father. Despite the bittersweet nostalgia, getting back to nature was always a good thing for Katniss. Maybe this place was a good idea after all. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she trudged off, traveling the short distance down to the lake.

She hadn’t gone far when she noticed a long, wooden dock. She stepped onto the dock and took the walk all the way to the end. The tips of her boots just barely hung over the edge. Around her, it was almost completely silent, aside from the occasional honk of the geese flying in formation overhead. Katniss looked up, then down and out across the reflective surface of the water, now illuminated by the rising sun casting its soft pink and yellow glow. A pair of loons swam by, barely even noticing or caring about her. They must be used to people, she surmised. Not like this was a hopping tourist spot, but clearly, people lived here as she’d noticed several other large homes around.

Katniss took in the rest of her surroundings visually, then shut her eyes and breathed in deep. It was definitely Fall. Fall had that exact same smell every year whether in the United States or Canada, and once again, it was one she so closely linked with her father.

As she stood on the edge of the dock, a loud bark pierced the morning stillness. It was so high-pitched, so sudden, and so close that Katniss lost her balance, opening her eyes just in time to go careening into the lake. She was cold and wet, and it took her a moment to realize what had just happened and to get her bearings. By the time she did, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around her middle, pulling her back toward the dock. Somehow, she’d swum out a few yards in the wrong direction, probably disoriented by the shock of the surprisingly frigid-for-Fall water.

But who had her around the waist?

She was barely able to register the solid form of a guy before he hefted her onto the dock. Katniss got to her feet and took a couple of steps back, allowing him room to pull himself out of the water. She heard that unmistakable bark again and looked to see the dog (she assumed) that’d startled her swimming up behind the guy. The dog’s owner turned around and pulled it out of the water, setting it on the dock; it licked his face then trotted off toward land, giving her a cursory glance and a sniff along the way. Fortunately, it waited to pass by her before shaking out its thick, reddish-brown fur.

It was only then that Katniss got a good look at her ‘rescuer.’ Standing at full medium height on the edge of the dock, she noticed he was broad-shouldered and stocky, with ashy blond hair that fell in damp waves across his forehead. And very blue eyes. He was cute. Really cute, actually. Maybe the cutest guy she’d seen in a while, at least that she could recall right now. But maybe her brain was frozen from icy water.

“Are you alright?” the guy asked sincerely.

“Y-yeah,” she mumbled, hugging herself as she involuntarily began to shiver. It hadn’t seemed very cold out, but of course, that’d all changed now that she was soaked through and the wind was hitting her. “Wh-why…did…y-you do that?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

The guy didn’t answer but, instead, grabbed his coat lying on the dock and strode over to her. With surprising flair, he whipped it around, draping it across her shoulders. She wanted to protest, but it was so cold, and his jacket was so warm that she couldn’t seem to form one. She shrugged it on, and he helped her slip her trembling arms through the holes. As if that wasn’t kind enough, he even zipped the jacket up for her. It felt like something an overly doting boyfriend would do, and despite her cheeks being practically frozen solid, she felt them heat up.

And then, when he began brusquely rubbing her arms to create friction through his coat, she blushed even harder. A stranger was touching her‒she barely let her family do so‒in a practical yet affectionate manner, and she wasn’t even resisting…

Katniss stared briefly down at her soggy boots, then raised her gray eyes to meet his blue ones. “Um, thanks. What about you?” she asked, referring to his lack of coat.

He dropped his hands to his sides, giving her a small smile. “I’m fine.”

Clearly, he wasn’t. His burnt orange sweater and khaki pants were saturated, and every few seconds or so, he’d shiver. He was obviously freezing but trying to hide it. A guy thing, she supposed.

“Why did you do that?” she repeated her earlier question. “You didn’t need to do that. I was fine. I know how to swim.”

Honestly, she wanted to rant at him. There was no reason for him to jump in; it made no sense at all, and now they were both soaked through.

He shrugged, then embraced himself for warmth. “I didn’t know that. As for why, it was instinct. I just saw a person in trouble, and when a guy sees that, he’s gotta act.”

So, he was just doing the decent thing any guy would do… Not any guys she knew. Maybe Canadian ones were different.

“I’m Peeta,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Peeta Mellark.”

“Katniss,” she replied, giving it a brief shake. “Everdeen,” she added hesitantly.

He smiled at her. “Well, Katniss Everdeen, we, uh, probably shouldn’t stay out here, wet like this.” She was surprised he hadn’t said so sooner, and she was surprised neither of them had made any move to leave. “Where’d you say you were staying?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I didn’t.”

“Well,” he exhaled, “if it’s far, maybe you better come to my place.”

“What?” There was no way she was going off with a total stranger, to his house, no matter how cute or charismatic he was.

“To get warmed up. It’s just over there.” He pointed, and she followed his finger. It was the house directly across the lake from Haymitch’s.

“It’s really not far to where I’m staying,” she said, not wanting to tell him exactly where.

“Yeah, but it’s a bit nippy, Katniss,” he persisted, briskly rubbing his own arms, “and being wet like that, you could catch your death of pneumonia, eh?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “How do I know you won’t kill me?”

Peeta smiled wider, revealing a pair of dimples. “Do I look dangerous?”

She scrutinized him, his innocent little grin, those soft blue eyes crinkled up at the corners. “No, but appearances can be deceiving.”

“Sure they can. But hey, I promise I won’t hurt ya.” He held up his hand in some kind of scouts’ honor symbol. “We Canadians are very friendly.”

“It’s really not necessary, Peeta. You should go home and get yourself warm.”

“Sorry. I would, Katniss, but Canadian hospitality dictates that I see you get warmed up, or at least get to the place you’re staying. I can tell you’re not from around here.”

Was that supposed to be an insult or simply an observation? Even if it was meant to be the former, he’d said it in such a polite manner that she couldn’t take it as such.

Katniss heaved a sigh. “Okay.” She didn’t need it on her conscience if this nice guy got sick.

“Good!” Peeta exclaimed, bouncing a little. She didn’t know whether from excitement over her agreement or trying to keep warm. Maybe a little of both. This got his dog excited, too, and it barked from beside him.

“But, for your sake, I hope you’re harmless because I’ve got bear spray in my pocket.”

Peeta raised a brow. “I see. Well then, I’d better be on my best behavior, huh? Cause that stuff’ll mess you up!” He grinned at her, and the corners of Katniss’s lips twitched in response.

“Shall we go, then?” he suggested, motioning. Still being ultra polite, even though he had to be an icicle by now. She nodded.

Why was she agreeing to this? Katniss wondered. Haymitch’s house was right over there. It wouldn’t take her that long to get there. Was she crazy?

She didn’t have much time to ponder it, though, because Peeta was already gently leading her off, his hand ever so lightly brushing her back.

______________

Peeta’s home was nearly as large as Haymitch’s and looked quite similar on the outside. Inside, it was structurally the same, yet completely different. He had art on the walls, a few sculptures, and hockey paraphernalia, the Winnipeg Jets. Overall, the place felt homier, warmer, and definitely more colorful.

“It’s nice.” She was trying to be polite, though she knew she wasn’t anywhere near as polite as he was. “Do you live here alone?” she asked, glancing around for any signs of others.

“Most of the time,” was his confusing response. He noticed her bewildered expression and gave a small chuckle. “Sometimes my parents come around, and one of my brothers stays here off and on.”

Well, that didn’t clear things up much.

“Long story.” He laughed.

Clearly.

“How old are you?” Katniss asked, not knowing where it came from. She hoped that wasn’t considered rude around these parts.

He didn’t hesitate to answer. “25.”

Peeta didn’t ask how old she was in turn, only smiled and led her upstairs. Katniss patted her pocket to make sure the canister was still there. Hopefully it still worked. But if Peeta was a killer, he was just about the nicest one she could imagine. Of course, wouldn’t that be the perfect crime?

He twisted the knob and pushed open the second door on the left, explaining that it was his room. He stepped in, but Katniss lingered in the doorway while he went to his closet. He rummaged around a bit before pulling out a sweater and pair of sweatpants.

“I’m sorry that this is all I have,” he said. “Not very fashionable, but it’s the smallest I own.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t really care about fashion.” She didn’t, and she was already feeling much warmer. She thought to tell him she should really just go now, but Peeta was insistent, and so, she took the clothes and allowed him to lead her to a bathroom down the hall. “This is the nice one,” he said. “For guests. There are some towels in there. Feel free to use anything you need.”

“Oh. Okay.” Once more, she nodded, and she stepped inside and locked the door.

After dressing, Katniss left the bathroom. Peeta was waiting, leaning against the wall with a bag in his hand. “Here, a bag to put your wet clothes in,” he said. He thought of everything.

It was only then that she caught his accent. Subtle yet noticeable, she heard it when he said certain words like bag, which he pronounced as a cross between ‘beg’ and ‘bayg.’ It wasn’t uncommon for people around her area and in nearby Minnesota to speak that way, so she hadn’t really thought about it, but she did now. She thought the subtle difference in his speech to be kind of cute, actually.

Peeta led her downstairs and asked her to wait on the couch. He still hadn’t changed himself, which she felt bad about. “I’ll be right back,” he said, dragging out the a in the word. “Then I’ll make you some tea.”

“You don’t have‒” she began, but she stopped herself, knowing it was useless to argue. This Canadian stranger’s hospitality apparently knew no bounds.

While he was changing, Katniss briefly wondered if she should just go, but that felt incredibly rude. He really had been so nice thus far, so she waited.

He came back, dressed in a hockey jersey and jeans. His still slightly damp, wavy hair was slicked back in some kind of style now. It made him look less boyish, more manly, and she couldn’t deny, quite attractive.

Peeta offered her tea once more, using his previous line about Canadian hospitality. She accepted and carefully watched him make it for her, so he didn’t slip anything in it.

“You use that excuse about hospitality a lot,” she quipped.

“S’not an excuse. It’s practically the law around these parts, sweetheart,” he said, handing her the tea.

“Sweetheart? Another Canadianism?” She was joking, of course. She knew full well it wasn’t because Haymitch called her that all the time, and he was originally American. It had always seemed like a strange term to Katniss, though, one that only truly fit with couples who’d been married forever, and not even then for her. She was never planning on getting married.

Then again, she kind of liked the sound of the word ‘sweetheart’ rolling off Peeta’s tongue…

“Nah, that one’s just mine.” He winked at her, and in spite of how forward she thought him, she smiled ever so faintly over her mug. Then she blew lightly on the tea and took a tentative sip. Just right.

She watched him prepare his own tea.

“You don’t take sugar in your tea?” she asked, noticing he hadn’t added any to his cup.

“Nah. I’m not much for sweet things. Drinks, anyway.” He winked at her again.

Katniss pressed her lips together. Was he flirting with her?

“Well, I like them. Sweet drinks,” she quickly added the second part. Peeta grinned at her clarification and took a seat on the couch with her, at the other end. She shifted in her spot, her back digging into the armrest. She was uncomfortable, yes, but not because she didn’t trust him. It was because of his looks and the scent coming from him and infused in the clothes she wore. Like cinnamon and dill.

“So, you’re from the States?” Peeta asked, taking a sip, then setting his cup down on the coffee table.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I can just tell. From the way you talk and your mannerisms.”

Katniss picked at a loose thread on the side of his sweatpants. She wasn’t really good at conversation, and she didn’t know what to say next, until she caught sight of his dog over in the corner. “So, your dog…um, what breed is he or she?”

“Oh, she’s a mutt.” Peeta laughed. Katniss laughed a little, too.

“Okay, but a mutt of what?”

“Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever and lab.”

Katniss nodded, even though she knew nothing about either type of dog, particularly the first. “I see. What’s her name?”

“Biscuit.”

“Biscuit. Really?”

“What?” He smirked.

“Well, it’s just…a little generic, isn’t it?”

“Generic, huh?” Peeta chuckled. “Well, I didn’t name her. My brother did. Used to be his dog, but he found out his wife’s allergic. He was gonna have to give her up, so I took her.”

“That was nice of you.”

“I s’pose.” He shrugged. “Figured he could at least see Biscuit this way. I call her Cookie most of the time, though, because that’s what a biscuit is here. My brother’s into American slang,” he explained.

“I see. Well, it’s…cute.”

Peeta smiled.

They talked a while longer, about basic things mainly, and after some time, Peeta cleared his throat. “So, Katniss, I was wondering…now that we’re dry, would you like to have some breakfast with me?”

“Uh…”

“If you haven’t had any, and you’re hungry, that is.”

“Well…”

“I would cook for you, Katniss. I’m a decent cook, but I don’t have much in the house right now. Wasn’t expecting company.” Company. Meaning, the klutzy girl he’d fished out of the lake then dragged home to make sure she got dry and warm, all out of the goodness of his heart.

“So, I was thinking I could take you out somewhere. Would you allow it?”

She should turn him down, say she needs to go or that her family is expecting her. Speaking of which, her family…she’d almost forgotten about them. They probably were wondering what happened to her.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, rather regrettably.

“Please, Katniss. I’d really like to make it up to you. It was Cookie’s fault you fell in the lake.”

Peeta put on a smile, and it was so bright and beautiful and hopeful that she hated to wipe it away by saying no.

“Well…I…should check in with my family first.”

“So, you’ll allow it?” he asked, grinning like mad.

“Yeah,” she smiled back, “I’ll allow it.”

She might as well. If the guy was going to kill her or attack her, he would have done it by now, wouldn’t he? She shook her head at her own thoughts.

Then, another popped in.

“Hey, do you have Tim Hortons?”

Peeta chuckled. “Oh, you like Timmies, eh?”

“Yeah, I like the timbits.”

“A lot of Americans do, but let me tell you a secret…” He leaned across the couch, not close enough to touch her but enough that she could see the sparkle in his eyes and feel his breath against her face. “They’re much better here than in the States.”

Katniss smirked. “I see.”

“No offense to you guys, of course. And to answer your question, we do have Timmies, but it’s all the way in Winnipeg. I don’t mind taking you there, but would your family miss you?” He was giving her that dimpled grin again.

Katniss laughed, a little awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, maybe someplace closer?”

“I know just the place. A local place. Better than Timmies, too.”

“Okay. Well, I should, uh…” She rose from the couch, and he bolted upright at the same time. Probably’d been taught it was good manners. “Get back.”

“May I walk you?” he asked.

“Uh…” She hesitated. How would it look if she came strolling back to Haymitch’s house with a guy? Then again, how was it going to look when she told her family she was planning to go out for breakfast with the cute Canadian stranger across the lake? She couldn’t believe she was going to have breakfast with a cute Canadian stranger she just met…

But she actually wanted to go.

Katniss let Peeta walk her most of the way back to Haymitch’s then exchanged numbers and told him she’d meet him in twenty minutes at the dock. She figured she could ask Haymitch about him. It might be embarrassing, but she needed to find out a bit more information before going somewhere with him. As for her number, well, she couldn’t believe she’d given him that, but at least it gave her the option of blowing him off without in-person contact if she needed to. Then, if worse came to worse and he kept trying to contact her, she could always shut her phone off for the duration of the trip‒she barely used it, anyway‒and then she could get a new number back home…

______________

When Katniss returned, Haymitch’s place was alive and filled with noise. Prim’s singing reverberated off the rafters, and her mother and Haymitch were bickering like (most) siblings do about some nonsense.

“Katniss, there you are,” her mother exclaimed when she saw her, sounding a bit flustered. “Where were you?”

“I sent the bear spray with her,” Haymitch declared, throwing his hands up as if he expected to be blamed and to say it wasn’t his fault.

As for Katniss, she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to say she was at some guy’s house, nor explain why she was wearing his clothes and carrying her damp ones in a bag.

“I went out for a walk,” she opted for. The three all turned toward her, examining her curiously.

“Katniss, what are you wearing?” asked her mother.

Great.

Well, she’d known that was coming. She should have tried to sneak in the back.

“Yeah,” Prim chimed in, “why are you wearing a sweater about three sizes too big for you that isn’t even yours, huh?!”

Might as well rip off the bandaid now. And so, she told the story…

“Oh, how romantic!” gushed Prim when she’d finished.

Their mother was staring at her while haphazardly wiping down the table for the third time, and Haymitch looked bored.

“It wasn’t romantic at all; it was stupid,” Katnis corrected, earning a disapproving look from Prim. “I was right off the dock, and I can swim, as you know, but this guy just jumped in after me. He said something about Canadian hospitality and how he just reacted.”

“What’d you say this guy’s name was?” asked Haymitch.

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark. He’s your neighbor.”

Realization began to dawn on Haymitch’s face.

“And where’d you say he lived?”

“Right across the lake,” Katniss answered. “You know him?”

Haymitch stroked his stubbled chin, and his mouth curled up. “Oh yeah, the boy across the lake. Yeah, I know him. Nice kid. Bakes good bread.”

“He baked bread for you?”

“Yeah, when I moved in. Said he was bein’ neighborly.”

Katniss smiled to herself. Yeah, that sounded like the Peeta she’d met…

“Wait, what happened after?” Prim interjected. “Are you wearing his clothes?! Did you go to his place?!” Her voice was coming out in squeals; she was getting entirely too excited about the whole thing.

Katniss sighed. “Yeah. I wasn’t going to, but he was insistent that I go to his place to dry off and warm up, and I had that bear spray in my pocket, so I figured if he turned out to be a psycho I could use that or kick him in the groin and run.”

Prim had the widest grin on her face now. “Oh, so he took you back to his place to ‘warm up,’ huh?” Prim used air quotes for the last part.

“Don’t you dare use the air quotes, Primrose!” Clearly, her sister had been reading those ‘romantic’ novels again. “Nothing happened, Prim.” She was directing that statement at everyone, though. “Peeta gave me some dry clothes to wear, a warm drink; we talked a little, and that was it.”

There was a group head bob.

“And…well, he invited me to breakfast.”

Katniss ignored her sister’s exclamation that she was going on a date and stormed up the stairs to her room, well, the room she was using. While trying to decide what to wear on her not-a-date, she considered the whole thing…

Was this worth so much harassment? Katniss wasn’t sure, but she liked Peeta Mellark. She liked him a lot. As a matter of fact, if these were more normal circumstances…if she wasn’t in a foreign country, if she hadn’t known this guy for no more than two hours, and most importantly, if she was a completely different girl, she might say there was a chance she could be falling for Peeta…

But no, it wasn’t possible. Not her. Not so soon. Not ever, really. Katniss Everdeen refused to fall in love or get married. She’d long since decided it wasn’t for her, that she would never go through what her mother did. She rejected the notion, altogether, of letting herself feel so much for another person that she would practically stop living if she lost them.

But the feeling Peeta gave her today, it made her almost…hopeful. It made her wonder how good it could be… Still, she refused to succumb to it. She would go to breakfast with the Canadian boy across the lake; she would enjoy her time with him, and then she’d tuck the nice memory away for safekeeping. That would be the end of it.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

Text

Black and blue

(Hayffie after midnight before the third Quarter Quell. Sensual fluffy angst? I’m not sure how else to describe this. 💗)

What’s left after the world takes a mallet to your illusions? When you realize the career you’ve built is a house of cards that you wrote for other people to read. Your words were co-opted as a script, within a game that hurts and never ends. What’s left when at last you understand that your primary function has been to make it all seem pretty? The words, the players, the game — even the hurting.

Tears are left. So you cry until your eyes are sucken and as empty as you feel inside. Your tears touch the ink on the cards that you wrote and live within. The words wash away in streaks of black and blue. The hurt is real. Perhaps it’s the only thing that’s been real all along.

***

Effie couldn’t sleep that night with shattered illusions. She’d replaced her dress with a silk robe, gold in color. Another token. This recognition drew more tears up from the emptiness. Her wig sparkled on its stand, ready for tomorrow. She clung to the notion that tokens could keep them together to the end: she and her victors. With shattered illusions in a dissolving house of cards, there wasn’t much to hold.

She brushed her real hair and tried to remove her makeup with the usual routine. The preceding hours of crying had pulled black and blue from her eyes down to her cheekbones. Those saltwater streaks of hurt were dreadful. Trying to wash them away only made it all worse.

She sat on the edge of the bed and searched her bag for the industrial makeup remover which she used for these kinds of emergencies. This act felt as false as the cards and the script and the game. This was pain that she was trying to cleanse and make pretty. Her own pain.

She lay back on the bed with the found bottle in hand. She didn’t want to use it. Tonight she wanted the hurt. She wanted the ugliness. She’d earned it, and she deserved a moment to feel it without washing it away.

***

Earlier when Katniss had asked Haymitch for last advice, he told her to stay alive. Haymitch felt those words as a sense of purpose. Helping her stay alive felt more vital and interesting than anything he’d had the chance to do in a quarter of a century. Thinking about that length of time highlighted the waste of so much life. Effie was right. Those kids deserved much more than this waste. All of them deserve more.

The plan was in place to try to keep Katniss alive in order to play the game in a different arena with new rules that Snow wouldn’t get to dictate. Haymitch had spent the evening facilitating Plutarch’s moves and making some of his own. He’d given Finnick the bangle along with some language to use with Katniss. He’d kept his promise of a drink with Chaff.

“Last call, my friend,” was his buddy’s toast.

Life hadn’t left Haymitch with many tears still inside. Nonetheless, he swallowed some down with the alcohol.

“What is this shit?” he raised the half-empty glass, speaking casually, as if it was any other night of shared drinks.

“Some fancy Capitol booze. These people wouldn’t know good liquor if it hit them over the head.”

“Actually, that might be a better place to put it.”

They drank awhile in silence. The absence of his friend’s laughter was like the memory of an axe in his own gut.

“One more toast,” Haymitch added, “...To staying alive.”

“To the Mockingjay,” Chaff whispered in case the walls had ears.

Haymitch understood his friend’s priorities and willingness to sacrifice. He hated that it had come to this. “I’m not saying goodbye to you.”

“‘See you later’ works just as well now as ever.”

They clapped each other on the backs, hugging longer than usual.

“Haymitch, you better not grab my ass, or I’m going to have to hit YOU over the head with this empty bottle.” Chaff joked, knowing they both needed a last laugh as much as the drink.

“How about you keep your ass, and I’ll see you later.”

Chaff nodded. “I’ll see you later, friend.”

***

Haymitch couldn’t swallow all the emotions as he headed back to his room. One annoying tear spilled onto his cheek, and he wiped it away quicker than it had fallen.

“Fuck this shit,” he muttered, as angry as he was upset.

As he passed Effie’s room, he saw light shining from below the door. He paused to listen. She was crying.

“Damn it,” he whispered, “Is there anybody who doesn’t need help tonight?”

He raised his knuckles to the door and leaned his forehead against it in a mixture of exhaustion and other feelings he didn’t want to think about. It was late. He shouldn’t knock. He should try to get a few hours of sleep now with the alcohol still in his veins.

Her crying was soft, soulful some would say. His knuckles had a will of their own, rapping gently against the door. “Effie?” His voice had a will of its own, calling her name. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the feelings that he didn’t want to think about.

She glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight. What is Haymitch doing here? Her first thought was concern for Katniss and Peeta. She dragged herself off the bed and moved to the door, but she didn’t open it.

“Are they alright? Is something wrong?”

“I was going to ask you the same question. Will you open the door?”

“I’m not decent.”

“Me neither, sweetheart. Just open the door.”

Her concern for her victors won out over her vanity. Haymitch was dressed the same as earlier. The thin shirt he wore did little to hide his body. She was irked by the fact that she noticed this now of all times. Her attraction to him was constantly irritating, like sand that she couldn’t quite shake off her skin.

The sight of her was a blend of macabre and erotic. He hadn’t expected this goddess-of-the-underworld look. A dozen quips ran through his mind, but he said none of them. She’d obviously been crying a long time. He stepped inside without invitation.

“What are you doing here? What’s wrong with Katniss and Peeta?”

“You mean aside from them being forced back into the arena in a few hours to kill or be killed?”

Effie struggled to hold back more tears. This existential angst was too much to take. She lost the fight. Tears spilled silently, lengthening the tracks of black and blue that ran down her cheeks.

“Come here.” Haymitch’s feelings were too close to the edge for him to say anything else. She was already there. They were already touching, fitting into one another’s emptiness.

“Everything is wrong,” she sobbed onto his neck.

Without her 5 inch heels, giant wigs, and corsets, the feeling of her against his body was different. She was all silk right now and unarmored nakedness. A strand of her hair caught on the stubble of his jaw, and he didn’t reach to free it. He just let her tangle with him.

Tonight she was like one of those yellow birds he used to see as a kid in the Seam before all the trees had been turned to firewood. The birds’ chatter and song kept him company on his long walks to and from school. By the time his brother was old enough to walk with him, those birds were gone. He’d never learned their names.

Everything had always been wrong. Living with ghosts wouldn’t change their fate. But Effie was no ghost. She was present and voluptuous, and for a moment he allowed himself to feel it.

“You should wear this shirt more often,” she said. Her tears had stopped, but she didn’t pull away. Through the light fabric, she could feel the solidity of his body and the warmth of his skin. With shattered illusions in a dissolving house of cards, he was something worth holding. He was something real.

“You should wear this outfit more often too.” He didn’t pull away either. He was enjoying the feeling of her too much, and the alcohol helped him not care that it was too much.

“What would Caesar say about this one?” she smirked.

“He’d say you’re a goddess.” Haymitch said without jest, caressing the small of her back. Just once.

“You’re drunk.” She tried to make light of what was happening here, because otherwise she was going to fuck him. And he’d let her. She was certain.

“Not tonight,” he said.

Effie had lost track of their conversation. Was he reading her mind?

“Not tonight?”

“I’m not drunk tonight. I see clearly how you are.”

“How am I? Dressed for death?”

He pulled back to look at her eyes, not at the eeriness of her makeup, but deeper into the black of her pupils and the blue of her irises. He held her hips. His body was responding to her in ways he didn’t want to stop right now. Maybe he should stop, but he really didn’t want to.

“Why should I NOT dress for death.” Quiet crept into her voice. “After all, it’s what I dress other people for. It’s what I do, Haymitch.”

He couldn’t argue with the truth. Her self-awareness surprised him.

“You deserve better,” he said.

His perspective surprised her. He usually covered compassion with mocking sarcasm.

“There’s so much to you.” She traced her thumb along his throat and settled in the hollow between his collarbones. “I want to see it all.”

Her touch and her request stirred him. “It’s scary shit, honey. Dressing kids for death is nothing compared to it. Everybody thinks they want to see it, until they see it. Then once they do, it’s the only thing they can see.”

“I’m not everybody.”

“Time will tell.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Time tells everyone’s secrets if they live long enough.” He ran his fingers through her hair, remembering again those yellow birds.

Her eyes closed. Foregoing the pleasure of someone’s fingertips along her scalp was a price she paid for being a fashion icon. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than this. His hands in her hair — what else mattered?

“Would you help me fall asleep?” she asked with her eyes still closed.

The feeling of her, raw like this... The reality that he didn’t know when he’d see her after tomorrow... The possibility that he never would... For all these reasons, he’d do almost anything for her right now.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

For the first time since he entered her room, she let go of him long enough to turn down the bed and slide between the sheets. The bottle of makeup remover fell to the floor, forgotten. She’d find it in the morning.

Haymitch covered her with a blanket and lay down beside her without taking off his shoes and without slipping under the covers. If he took off his shoes and held her body, he was going to fuck her. And she’d let him. He was certain.

She’d asked to sleep, and sleep is what she needed. She had no idea what tomorrow would hold, and he couldn’t anticipate what would happen to her. He already had too many regrets. He didn’t want to bring her into any more.

He rested his head close to hers and stroked her hair like before. He could lose himself in her, this real version of her, if he was the kind of man who could let go of that much control. But he wasn’t that man.

She pressed her hand to his sternum. His heartbeat was wild. Sex with him would be wild. Not tonight, filled with so much sadness, but sometime. She WOULD see inside him. It was a promise she made to herself.

He plucked a few kisses from her eyelid down her cheek, tracing the tracks of her tears. “You know, this whole watercolor eye thing you’ve got going on tonight could be the next big trend.”

“Don’t be wicked.” She slid her hand up to the base of his throat without pressure, and she kissed his mouth. The kiss was tender and brief. Her lips were open so he could take more if he wanted.

He returned a kiss exactly the same as the one she’d offered, without taking more. Even still, they were crossing a line. They both could feel it behind them as he ran his fingers through her hair again.

“I like you.” Her voice was sleepy now. “Don’t break my heart.”

“Close your eyes, honey. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

She was still young. He could see it in this light without so much makeup. 30 maybe? How could a murderer and a drunk not break her heart? How could a revolution not break her heart?

When her breathing turned even, he caressed the black and blue streaks on her face. He couldn’t protect her from heartbreak which was already happening. He kissed her forehead, confessing in hushed tones, “Damn, I like you. I always have.”

He left quietly, locking the door and closing it behind him. In the hallway, he added the words he wouldn’t burden her with now, awake or asleep. “Stay alive, sweetheart. I don’t do promises, but if we survive this, I’ll show you anything you want to see.”

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #black and blue #catching fire #haymitch’s shirt #hayffie kiss #the penthouse #HayffieFics #75th hunger games

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