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#so much comedic potential
wreywrites · 5 months
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Tiger Shark
Part 7: The Sail
Chapter 38
Cecelia is in the shower. She lives with us now. I think. Actually, she and I live with Finnick, and Alvan and Gloss live with Cashmere. The shuffle has been shuffled. Not like it really matters. Nothing matters.
That’s not true. Things matter.
The fact that Finnick is here matters. The fact that Cecelia and Cashmere and Johanna and Peeta are here matters. It matters that Johanna is getting better and that Katniss is in Two helping win the war and that the propos really are helping all of us grieve properly.
But it doesn’t matter that people are starting to stare at Alvan and Cashmere. It does matter that he can get her to laugh when the rest of us can barely get her to talk. It doesn’t matter how they found each other, only that they did, despite the odds, and despite how funny it looks to see Cashmere, who is almost as tall as me and acts my age, smiling at Alvan like he’s the world, and Alvan, who is at least eight inches shorter than her and acts like he’s older than Haymitch, staring at her adoringly. It doesn’t matter that District One’s golden girl needs a cowboy from District Ten to talk her down in the middle of the night. It only matters that they do, in fact, have each other.
And it is very funny to watch Gloss experience it as a crisis, torn between being happy that his sister has some semblance of something normal and happy, and being sad that no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. But he’s become such good friends with Alvan since the three of us came to Thirteen that he eventually does decide this is all for the best and is nothing but happy for them. Though he insists on continuing to sleep in 2110, to keep them from doing anything “untoward.”
As if Alvan is even capable of that.
So Cecelia lives with us. Mostly because she needs a bottom bunk. Her leg is taking its time healing. It was broken in multiple places, and the doctors here had to do some major surgery to get it even close to right.
But right now she is in the shower, and Finnick is telling me about the one time Beck let him borrow his boat and why he was never allowed to take it out alone again.
I am almost asleep. But something, I’m not sure what, reminds of talking with Augustus and Megary, on that day that feels so long ago, a lifetime ago, not a few short years. I roll my head over to look at Finnick. “Did the Capitol tell you you couldn’t get married?”
“Several times.” He rolls onto his side, smiling, so we are face to face. “But they don’t own me anymore.”
~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~
We tell Johanna first. The next morning, when everyone else is down in Special Weaponry blowing off some steam, Finnick and I visit her in the hospital.
She’s looking better. Still outrageously skinny, but starting to fill in a little, and her hair has started to grow back, and her eyes have that fire again. She grins when we tell her we’re getting married. “Good. That’ll stick it to Snow. See his victors disobeying direct orders and being happy and not being his anymore, and there’s nothing he can do.”
None of those things were my motivation, but I can’t argue with her logic. Those are just nice bonuses.
We catch everyone else down in Special Weaponry. I can honestly say it’s the first time I have seen all of us genuinely happy in… maybe since I’ve known them. There is no Capitol breathing down our necks here. No Snow with his lists, telling us to play nice or else. I may hate pretty much everything about Thirteen, but it has finally given us a kind of freedom that was unimaginable after I became a victor.
I want to tell Posy too, but I suspect telling her will then prevent us from being able to break the news to anyone else ourselves. She’ll be so excited that all of Thirteen will know by bedtime. So Finnick and I make the weird choice to tell Plutarch and Fulvia next.
Plutarch is ecstatic. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it!” he says to Fulvia, who is already scribbling madly on her notepad.
“I do,” Finnick mutters out of the corner of his mouth.
I snort.
~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~
True to form, Posy shrieks when we tell her at supper that night.
Finnick’s hand clenches mine and he hauls in a too-sharp breath, but then Posy leaps from her chair to hug both of us and he evens out.
“I’m safe,” I whisper.
He nods.
Posy runs laps around the table, whooping.
She still hasn’t eaten a bite when the rest of us are finished, so Hazelle finally makes her sit down as we leave.
I hold Alvan back in the hallway as everyone else starts the nightly room shuffle.
“Somethin’ botherin’ ya?”
“No. Well… a little… maybe?” I frown. “I wanted to ask you… I don’t know how you do weddings in Ten, but in Four…” It hits me. It really hits me. I suck in a shaky breath, blinking back a tear. The words tumble out. “My dad’s not here.” It’s not that he isn’t here, it’s that I don’t even know if he’s still alive. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. They just drew my name for the Quarter Quell and ran me on the train. And I don’t even remember that last part.
Alvan looks both very sad and very happy, but says nothing.
“Will- will you walk me down the aisle?”
He nods and smiles. “’Course I will.”
“I promise I won’t wear heels,” I say, trying to force myself to laugh because if I don’t I’ll cry.
Alvan takes my hands. “Annie, wear whatever ya want.” His smile broadens. “You’re gettin’ a day most of us don’t bother to dream about.”
Alvan has hit the nail on the head.
It didn’t occur to me until he said it, and even then it doesn’t sink in until I am almost asleep, and then I laugh so hard I can’t even explain myself to Finnick, just wheeze and giggle.
Finnick has no suit. I have no dress. And the only fabric to be found in Thirteen is the gray stuff that everything is made out of.
The next day, during a literal wedding planning meeting in Command, Coin says this will be fine. Plutarch says this wedding will be televised, and under no circumstances will he dress us in anything but the best. He has no idea where to get “the best,” but he assures us he will make something happen.
~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~
It is actually Katniss who solves our problem one afternoon. She has been deemed well enough to leave the hospital after getting shot in District Two. We are sitting in Special Weaponry, watching Gloss throw knives.
“There are dresses in Twelve,” she says quietly, not looking at me. “Lots of them. They were mine, so you might have to make some alterations, but… you’re welcome to use them.”
“Are- are you sure?” I ask. I heard about what happened to her stylist, and I know she liked him a lot more than I liked Marius, though I have to admit, he maybe wasn’t the worst. It was his idea to put us all in our crowns for the interviews. And he did make me look perfect on every occasion. Maybe I don’t dislike Marius. The idea confuses me, even more so when I realize I have no idea what happened to Marius after we got out of the arena. I’ll just add him to the list of mysteries. Him and my crown.
“Yeah,” she says, yanking me out of my wonderings. She turns to look at me, dangerously close to smiling. “Yeah, I’m sure. Can’t have you wearing this horrible stuff on the happiest day of your life.” She picks at her gray shirt.
“Thank you.”
Then she waves Finnick over and tells him her idea. “Peeta has suits, too. I’m sure you could use one. He won’t- he wouldn’t have…” She trails off.
Finnick nods. We both know what she means, what she can’t quite bring herself to say. Instead we thank her, then the three of us go looking for Plutarch to tell him the good news.
We find him in the control room, talking to Beetee and Haymitch.
He snaps his fingers, eyes lighting up. Fulvia is already scribbling furiously.
“Yes! Katniss, it’s perfect! And with a little work from our favorite style team, we’ll have the best-dressed bride and groom in Thirteen!”
We all glance around at each other, wondering who will be the first to say it.
Unsurprisingly, it is Haymitch. “I don’t think that’ll be hard.”
~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~
We have to wait a few days for a flight to Twelve to get cleared, planned, and assigned a security team. In the meantime, we go back to making the propos.
There’s one we haven’t done yet. One she’s never brought up. And it’s horrible, but I hope she forgets. I hope they all forget. I almost hope I forget. I hope Fulvia’s list is somehow missing this one name, because I can’t do it again.
I can’t.
And then after lunch there is a lull. They have been talking about the kids from two years before me, so I haven’t been any help at all.
Like she always does, Fulvia lets us sit in silence for a while after we seem to be done. She says we need a chance to grieve. She’s right. Talking like this helps. It hurts, but it helps.
I fade out less. Cashmere talks more. Not much, but more. Sometimes Alvan does impressions just for fun and by request.
Fulvia gives us our grief pause, then she takes a deep breath and glances at Finnick and me. “I want to talk about Mako,” she says.
“Take it from my rescue day footage.” I shrink down in my chair. Now I can hear it. The cold slice of metal, the thump, the thunder of the stampede…
Nobody questions my request. They are all watching Finnick. I wonder what we look like from the outside. Cecelia takes my hand.
Finnick is quiet for a long time, staring off into the distance. It’s like he’s forgotten the rest of us are here as he drifts through his memories.
“Mako?” He speaks quietly, looking through the far wall like he can see all the way home. “They’re always hard to lose. Not because I want to win, but because they’re kids. They’re somebody’s kid, somebody’s brother or sister, somebody’s…” His face is expressionless, lost. “I picked her from the beginning. I knew she could win and I knew he’d have to die for that and I- I didn’t think this would happen. It’s been five years now and I fall asleep next to her every night and wake up next to her every morning and I… I feel like I stole her.” His voice is barely a whisper. “Mako Silther was one of our best, and I had to let him die. I owe him the world and then some.” He stands up, breaking the trance, making us all jump. “We all do. My little sharks walked so Katniss and Peeta could run. And the sharks walked because they remembered Alvan and Cally. And on and on and on it goes, back to the beginning! And if we don’t win, it’ll go on and on and on forever!”
He's out of the room before anyone really knows what’s happening.
I lurch out of my chair after him.
He didn’t get far.
I sit down next to him in the hallway. “You’re not good at hiding, are you?”
“Not like you.”
“Well that’s not fair,” I lean my shoulder against his. “You can’t compare yourself to someone who won by hiding. That’s like saying you’re not good at throwing axes because Johanna’s in the room.”
He frowns at the opposite wall.
“You didn’t steal me.”
“That’s not how it feels.”
“Finnick…” I take a deep breath. “It wasn’t your fault. The Capitol did it. All of it. You couldn’t get us both out. That’s how it works.”
“Shouldn’t be.”
“Well it was.”
He finally turns to look at me. Maybe that came out a little harsh.
“I don’t blame you. I never have. I thought you knew that. You didn’t kill Mako, and I promise you didn’t steal me. You snuck up on me, but you didn’t steal me. I picked you too, Odair. Remember that.”
He chews the inside of his lip. “Why?”
“Because I found out what the real Finnick Odair is like. He is caring, and funny, and a good cook, and a terrible liar, and a very normal person who has somehow managed to be bullied by every kind of marine wildlife there is. And he would never steal someone’s girl.”
Finnick slumps against my shoulder. “I think you see a little too much good there.”
“I promise, if I thought you’d done all this on purpose, I would have left you for Gloss. You’ll notice I am still here. I’m staying with you, because you stayed with me.”
That night he doesn’t tell me stories about being bullied by marine wildlife. He talks about the house he wants to build. He doesn’t want to live in Victor’s Village anymore, and I don’t blame him—I wouldn’t, if Dad wasn’t there. Finnick has a spot all picked out for the house, right on the beach up by the Traps. He knows who owns the land and he’s been working on them for almost three years now. He doesn’t say who it is, but it must be someone in the Capitol. People in Four have money, but no one has that kind of money.
He talks and talks and talks, and for once, I stay awake for a long time. I can’t help it. I’m even tired, but listening to him explain exactly how he wants the kitchen organized and why he wants the upstairs layout the way he does and where he wants to hang all my drawings of that stray cat from down by the pier is so enthralling that before long it is well after midnight and we are still laying awake, talking about this house that neither of us have any of the skills to build or the land on which to build it, this house that we will make spicy shrimp rolls in, have big New Year’s parties in, dance in, laugh in, learn to make cream cheese rolls in, read books in, raise our children in. This house that will get us through the rebellion.
~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~
Katniss’s prep team and a handful of guards go with us to Twelve. Katniss and I have spent enough time together since first getting to Thirteen that we could almost call each other a friend, I think. And she knows how my mind works. Or doesn’t, depending on the day. So she starts talking as soon as we board the hovercraft even though I can tell she doesn’t love it. She tells me inconsequential stories about her sister and about hunting in the woods outside Twelve. After a while she gets quiet, then asks, “What’s Four like?”
I smile. And I tell her. And like my rescue day interview, I get carried away with the memories, but in a good way. I tell her everything I can think of, and soon I’m not talking about Four, I’m talking about my dad and Jade and Coral and Mags and Beck and even Mako.
Fulvia is right. Talking does help us grieve and heal. And Finnick was right, a few days ago, when he frowned, a confused but pleased frown, and said, “You’re better. You’re a lot better.”
The soldiers from Thirteen do a full sweep of the area before letting us off the hovercraft, and even then, they don’t go far away.
I follow Katniss into her house. I know I would want space if it was me leading her into my old house.
She leads me into her upstairs study. It’s in the same spot as mine, except hers is full of clothes rather than drawings.
We start going through the dresses. Katniss discounts some immediately. One reminds her too much of Cinna, she says. Another is her favorite, and selfishly, she just doesn’t want to share. I understand that. We also pass all the dark-colored ones. There is too much in Thirteen that is dark and drab. We need something bright, colorful, something fit for a wedding. I try on a few, but it is when Katniss pulls a long green dress out from the back of a closet in the third spare bedroom that I know we can quit looking. I say “long” because it must have been long on her, but when I put it on, it hangs just below my knees. Which I like.
I smile at Katniss. “This one.”
She smiles back, nodding.
On the way home, having retrieved what her prep team called “the perfect suit” for Finnick, Katniss and I talk like normal people our age might talk. We talk about our favorite foods, our favorite colors, our favorite childhood memories. She tells me about deer and I tell her about dolphins.
And then she talks about being the Girl Who Was On Fire and I talk about being the Tiger Shark of Four.
Yes, Katniss and I would have been friends, chatting and laughing and eating carrot cake and making fun of Augustus if only the Quarter Quell hadn’t pitted the victors against each other.
But Katniss and I are friends now, talking and smiling and rolling our eyes at Plutarch’s need for a Capitol wedding celebration and Coin’s determination that no fun will be had.
For a long time, I wondered about Katniss. Wondered if she was acting, if she was a rebel or if she was just what I would have been if I had only had a way to keep Mako alive and make them let us both win, if she was desperate or in love or just a scared kid like the rest of us. Now I know.
Katniss is like me.
We could change places so easily.
If I had been born in Twelve, to poverty and starvation and a need to escape to the woods for my very survival, I would have won. They would have called me the girl who was on fire and I would have fallen in love with the boy with the bread. And I would have broken when the Capitol took him away. I would have never come back.
If she had been born in Four, to money and food and my father’s fishing business, she would have won. They would have called her a shark and she would have mourned Mako Silther without end. And she would have walked herself off the pier when she came back.
The girl who was on fire would have smothered her own flames, drowned her feathers in salt water.
In another life, Katniss is the shark, and I am the bird.
In that life, neither of us would make it far.
I would have done anything, up to and including turning myself over to the Capitol, for the hope of getting Mako back after we both survived two stints in the arena.
Katniss would have laid down and died after losing Peeta in the arena.
But not in this one. In this world, we are two girls who have lost too much, clinging to what little is left. We are neither of us equipped to deal with the other’s grief.
I doubt Katniss knows any of this. I still don’t think Katniss knows how much she loves Peeta. Everyone with eyes can tell. Everyone but Katniss. And now she doesn’t even have Peeta. But she’s still going on, pushing through, staying as strong as she knows how.
And that I couldn’t do. If I was their mockingjay and the Capitol sent Finnick back trying to murder me, I’d find the tallest stairwell and I’d jump.
~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~
Finnick involves himself deeply in the wedding planning. He and Plutarch have finally found something they wholeheartedly agree on: this wedding will not be a District Thirteen wedding. This will be a District Four wedding. At least, as close to it as we can get.
The only musician anyone can find is a man who managed to escape Twelve with his fiddle. He comes in and plays a few songs for us one day, and I am sold. “Perfect, it’ll be perfect. Thank you!”
Plutarch bullies President Coin into letting us (him) invite three hundred people: everyone who we want to be there, and then the rest drawn reaping-style to insure fairness. Though when he produces the guest list, I can’t help but notice it heavily favors the District Twelve refugees. Fine by me. I made sure to include all of them I could name on my invite list anyway.
Plutarch also bullies Coin into letting us have a real wedding supper, complete with cake for dessert, though still no alcohol. I’m a little disappointed by the stipulation, but cake is what matters.
We recruit all the willing children we can find, which is all of them we ask, to learn the Wedding Song. Thankfully, Fulvia knows it, because I can’t imagine Finnick teaching anyone how to sing, and I’m not much better. I don’t know how Fulvia knows the Wedding Song, but she’s a pretty decent singer, so I don’t question it.
I catch myself wishing Augustus and Megary could have been here too. They probably would have gotten married on about day two of living here. Broken the ice for the rest of us. Told Gloss he was being stupid thinking that Cashmere wouldn’t have the time of day for him anymore. Told Alvan it was perfectly acceptable for the poor districts to marry up, though Augustus would have insisted he was the one marrying up, not the grain farmer from Nine. Told me I would have to spell it out for Finnick that I didn’t blame him. Told Finnick I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t blame him. Told Johanna it gets better.
~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~
“Got cold feet yet?” Finnick asks.
“Not a chance. You?” I say through the toothbrush.
He grins from the bed. “I have been waiting for three years for this. I’m not about to back out now.”
“Three years?” I spit into the sink. “I can’t match that.”
“You don’t have to. As long as you love me.”
I crawl into bed next to him. “I will never not love you.”
“Even when I have gray hair?”
“Even when you have gray hair.”
“Even when I look like a wrinkly old moray?”
“Ew, no, not then.”
Finnick laughs. “Good to know you draw the line somewhere.”
“You two are adorable,” Cecelia mumbles from her bed.
****
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the-phantom-otaku · 1 year
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I've been dying the last five minutes bc I found out there's a non canon alien whose power is roasting his opponents
Also he's officially canon to me
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it went differently in his fanfics
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ghostsberry · 24 days
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show off
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shoukohime · 3 months
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sukuna is so funny to me because he is an ancient evil sorcerer stuck in the body of the 15 y/o son of his millennium old nemesis who makes him watch the earthworm equivalent of sharknado
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phantomkapok · 2 months
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happy valen time dey (it is valentines day today dude trust me dont check the date wai)
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Jetko is the funniest fucking ship because like you have other ships like zutara or zukka and it’s like “blue/red dynamics enemy to friends to lovers” or something like that. Or you have other ships like kataang and sukka and they’re just pure true love couples. Meanwhile jetko is in the background with the two trash boys setting things on fire and actively making each other the worst versions of themselves and that’s just how it’s meant to be.
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debonairdandizette · 9 months
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Listen: batman is living in a soulmate au where you can't kill your soulmate, and his is joker and that's fucking cringe so he pretends it's a moral code he has.
Batman was just fucking shooting bad guys in the head until the joker, and it bounced off or some shit and he was like "aw fuck" and then he had to reinvent himself to pretend that didn't happen.
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indiainswiftland · 1 year
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You know how in the TKC books they narrate the story orally so that allows the kids to interrupt each other and make funny remarks?
I think in the movie they should narrate the story in a reality show format. Like Modern Family. IT WILL BE SO FUCKING FUNNY
Imagine watching Carter confessions and him going: i'm not a violent person
CUT TO CARTER BEING FUCKING UNHINGED WHILE FIGHTING LEROY IN THE AIRPORT
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p1neapplerum · 1 year
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Can I request some DGS Vampire van Zieks brothers?
london's silliest vampires
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toxxtt · 11 months
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kotlc shitpost number ???
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lancerious · 17 days
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thank you for being #1 lancer fan the world needs more lancer fans
Ho ho ho, of course!! Lancer is CRIMINALLY underrated I tell you, kid deserves WAY more attention than he currently gets
Glad to see another Lancer fan pop in <3!
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presentfuckingmic · 2 years
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Wait no Shinsou not being able to use his quirk through a speaker and Mic having hearing aids making it so Shinsou can’t brainwash Mic
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Takeda: Why are you playing smooth criminal on repeat in your head?
Jin: Oh, uh, just have a brain worm y’know…
Takeda: Brain worms don’t work like that- you are actually playing the full song with perfect lyrics and music without a single jump cut and have been for the past hour. You even have an entire choreography that is playing in sync with it.
Jin: …
Takeda: I feel as if I should be worried but I’m honestly just impressed.
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hucklebucket · 7 months
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I was perfectly content with the show ending after 4 seasons but now I'm sad we won't get a whole season of Nancy bringing her infant sibling along while fighting the supernatural.
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serious-goose · 5 months
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we should've gotten an episode where they awkwardly took the bell collar off ed. just no real explanation other than lucius cringing in the corner like "yeah, shit got weird fast, huh?" and everyone just nods.
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