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depresse0espresso · 3 months

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The Favorite (Chapter Two)

Warnings: very subtle implications of forced prostitution, consumption of alcohol

Chapter One or Chapter Three

Another three districts, another three speeches and condolences, another three banquettes and another three nights sneaking outside and drowning glasses of various wines. Unlike that night, these moments of respite are uninterrupted, with no interruptions from a handsome Victor who leaves an uneasy feeling in my stomach and leaves my head spinning from such a brief meeting. The words of guidance from Finnick still weigh on my mind, they didn’t come across as if they were the words of a mentor who is bitter over their tribute’s demise, at least that's not how I'm interpreting them to me they seemed like a warning of sorts about who or what I'm not sure, although Pa believes that was Finnick’s way of expressing his bitterness, he thinks Finnick is in his words not mine is ‘A show pony who can't handle losing’ and ‘a peacock’ and when I asked pa to elaborate on what the latter meant he said not to worry myself over it that is was an inside joke. But still, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to Finnick's words and something more beneath this charm and humour, and I just couldn't put my finger on it and that bothers me.

With the district part of the victory tour ending without a hitch, we arrive in the capital. I can feel the anxiety building up in my chest as I prepare to step out of the train onto the platform, the weight of expectations heavy on my shoulders. The Capitol, with its excessive opulence and superficiality, feels suffocating. I take a deep breath, plaster a smile on my face, and prepare to play my role once again. As I step onto the platform, I am greeted by hordes of adoring fans eagerly awaiting my arrival. Their cheers and screams fill the air, momentarily distracting me from the suffocating atmosphere of the Capitol. I remind myself to stay focused and play the part of Victor, but deep down, I can't help but wonder if these people truly understand the true cost of my victory.

As Leto ushers me down the station platform ranting about staying on schedule I make an effort to stop and greet as many of the people as I can. As I pause to engage with the capital fans, Leto's frustration becomes evident, but I continue to maintain my innocent and sweet facade. I know that these interactions will please the crowd and bolster my image as a Victor.

As I continue to greet the fans, my skin crawling slightly with each interaction, my spirits lift when I spot a group of children among the crowd. Something about their innocence and genuine excitement brings a smile to my face, and for a brief moment, I can forget the suffocating facade

I crouch down to a little girl no older than 10, her eyes wide with awe as she looks up at me. "Are you Marina Nivera ?" she asks, her voice filled with excitement. I nod and reply, "Yes, I am." I smile kindly at her ‘’and who might you be?’’ She beams and replies, “I'm Synthia.” Her mother, standing nearby, smiles proudly and says, “She’s a big fan of yours and she just had to meet you” I nod in agreement, and my heart aches as I think that this little girl even knows what the Hunger Games are, let alone be familiar enough with the games to know who I am. "I must say, Synthia, your dress is absolutely beautiful. You look like a princess." I compliment her, hoping to brighten her day even more. She is just a child. How can I group her and the other children here on the platform with the capital adults? As I continue to interact with Synthia and the other children, their genuine joy and excitement are a stark contrast to the superficiality and opulence of the Capitol. It's in moments like these that I realise that moments like these are going to be what I have to hold onto for the rest of my life, as a Victor I am never going to be free from the suffocating influence of the capital now so I will find joy in what I can.

As Leto finally manages to get us away from the crowds, he launches into a lecture about the importance of staying on schedule and maintaining a professional facade. I listen attentively, feigning innocence and understanding, but deep down, I can't help but feel a twinge of rebellion. After all, it's in moments like these with the genuine joy of the children, that I find solace and a glimmer of hope amidst the suffocating influence of the Capitol. “But Leto, the children's faces, how could I walk past all those sweet little angels, especially after their parents had made the effort to bring them to come and welcome me, it would have been so impolite to walk past them” I point out actively trying to guilt him. Leto sighs and reluctantly concedes, "I suppose you have a point, Marina. It wouldn't do well for your public image to appear impolite. Just remember, we have a tight schedule to follow." I saw Pa give a smile from the corner of my vision as he could see straight through what I was doing. “Of course Leto, I promise it won't happen again.” That was a blatant lie but I faked a smile and nodded in agreement. I knew that I had to make amends for my actions if I wanted to stay on good terms with Leto.

After hastily making our way back on schedule, I found myself sitting in the hair and makeup chair an hour later, preparing for my interview with Caesar Flickerman. As the stylist works on my hair, I can't help but reflect on the tour and as I try to reflect on each district and the people I met my thoughts end up spiralling back to a charming smirk, sea green eyes and curly blond hair Was it more golden blonde or a dark blonde like a bronze-ish colour and those curls….. he has to use some type of product right? They can't be that naturally perfect.

“Mari”

I mean was I just imagining things? Was he generally trying to be nice and offer me advice ‘Victor to Victor’ as he said, was I the one that made it awkward by refusing it and looking like I wanted to run for the hills

“Marina”

Surely, someone as charming and seemingly perfect as Finnick must be hiding something. I just can't shake the feeling that there is more to him than meets the eye.

“Marina!’

or you know maybe I felt so unconfirmable because he was so attractive and he was talking to me, my brain probably went into a self-destructive mode, I mean I haven't talked to a boy my age normally since before the reaping and that was 6 months ago now

“Marina Jane Nivera!’’

I jump startled by the shout of my full name. My eyes search for the source in the mirror and meet Pa’s. A short, frustrated sigh escapes from Pa's lips as he meets my gaze in the mirror, his eyes reflecting both concern and exasperation.

"Where is your head these days, Child? That's the hundredth time this week I've caught you daydreaming. Focus, Marina." Pa's voice stern, his tone leaving no room for discussion or explanation I take a deep breath, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I nod my head, swallowing the lump in my throat, and force myself to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, Pa, I've just been preoccupied with everything that's been happening." Pa's gaze softens slightly as he looks at me, but his expression remains firm. "Well, you better snap out of it before the interview with Caesar Flickerman. This is a big Marina, and I don't want you messing it up." I reply, my voice laced with irritation. "I won't mess it up. I've been preparing for this interview for weeks, and I know exactly what I'm going to say. So please, have a little faith in me.". My pa is probably the worst possible victor to have as an adviser about Interviews and capital relations, in the 20 years since he won his games he has lost his favour greatly by being known as a grump who hardly ever interacts with people unless he has to and when he does he makes sure you know he doesn't like you. The man has made Caesar Flickerman feel uncomfortable on stage. He has always been stubborn and uncompromising and has refused to compromise on his ideals. He has never been one to take advice and has always been determined to do things his way. If anything has been made clear to me since I won my games it is how differently me and pa conduct ourselves in the public eye.

My stylist Millicent meets my eyes in the mirror with a concerned look as Pa continues to frown and begins to retort, but she cuts him off, saying, "It's time to get her changed Rex" I'm grateful for her intervention, knowing that she understands my feelings. Pa huffs and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with Millicent. I take a moment to collect myself and then turn to Millicent, offering her a grateful smile and saying, "Thank you, Milly. I truly appreciate it." "It's alright, Mari. Has he been like this the whole tour?" she asks, her voice filled with concern and empathy as she walks over to grab my interview dress from the hanger. “More like since I got out of the arena” I admit, as I rise from the makeup chair to get dressed, that the tension between me and my pa has been building up ever since I got out of the arena. “I don't know what caused it. It's like every conversation I have with him is a lecture and he says I don't have to do as he says then gets frustrated with me when I don't do what he wants” I take a deep breath and steady myself as Milly helps me put on my outfit and turn and look at myself in the mirror. As I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, I can't help but feel a surge of confidence. The pretty pink floral dress, with its dark dusty pink hue and golden flowers, complements my half updo hairstyle adorned with curls. The fairy-like makeup adds a touch of enchantment, making me feel ready to conquer the interview with grace and poise.” Oh, Milly you have outdone yourself with this” I gasp praising him softly as I swing back and forth watching the tea-length skirt swish back and forth in the mirror. “Just wait until you see your dress for the Presidential Palace banquet tonight” Milly smiles and winks at me before disappearing behind the curtain. I take a deep breath, feeling more confident than ever. I step out of the dressing room into the hall where I am ushered by Leto and a very grumpy Pa backstage waiting for Caesar to call me out on stage for the interview. As I stand in the wings waiting Leto gives me a thumbs up of encouragement as Caesar begins introducing me “Now everybody I think we have waited long enough for the main event of the show this afternoon don't you?’’Caesar asks the crowd if they're ready for the main event, and they respond with a thunderous cheer, their excitement filling the air. I take deep as i hear Ceaser continue

"You know her, you love her, MARINA NIVERA, Victor of the 68th Hunger Games," Caesar announces, his voice booming through the speakers. The crowd erupts into applause and cheers, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. As I step onto the stage, I feel a surge of adrenaline and determination, ready to put on a show.

The interview went spectacularly, as I confidently and eloquently answered each of Caesar's questions, captivating the audience with my personal stories and insights from my time in the arena, the tour and my life as a victor so far. During the interview, I proudly showcased my unique sense of style and shared how my passion for fashion and makeup has grown since becoming a victor. I also demonstrated my newfound hobby of flower arranging, attempting to teach Caesar how to make a flower crown, much to the audience's delight. During the interview, I was asked about the children in the train station on my arrival in the Capitol, and I shared how I couldn't just walk by them as they were too cute. The heartfelt story of how I couldn't resist stopping to interact with the children in the train station truly resonated with the audience, eliciting a collective "aww" and melting their hearts. My genuine kindness and compassion in that moment made a lasting impression and further endeared me to the crowd. I guess my genuineness made just as much an impact as my half-truths and lies.

After the interview, the night unfolds in a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation as we get ready to make our way to the Presidential Palace everyone is excited except Pa ,although my excitement is different from my prep teams as they dress me and re-do my hair and make-up

One more night then back on the train home to District 10 in the morning.

I stand in front of the mirror again, Milly by my side, as I look at the dress she has created. It is a masterpiece, a baby pink tulle ballgown with silver and gold heart decorations is breathtaking. The strapless design accentuates my shoulders and the flowing skirt adds a touch of elegance. I can't help but feel like a princess as I twirl in front of the mirror. “One more final touch,” she says as she places my Victor's circle on top of my updo. Milly gives me a side hug and smiles “there perfect”

The grandeur of the palace, with its sparkling chandeliers and ornate decorations, takes my breath away. As I enter the ballroom, all eyes turn to me, and I can't help but feel a sense of unease. People begin to swarm me, vying for my attention. I swear I must have talked with everybody at this party, except for the president himself. There are even other victors from other districts here, and I get quick introductions before being ushered along to meet the next person. The whole experience is overwhelming, but I try my best to stay composed and make a lasting impression on everyone I meet. After two hours of this, I manage to escape to hide behind a champagne tower where I grab a glass and drown it as soon as i'm out of sight as I do I turn and notice a door that opens onto a balcony adjacent to the tower, I place the now empty glass down before grabbing another two glass one in each hand and exit on to the balcony quietly. As I walk onto the balcony, I see a familiar figure leaning on the railing a few steps down from me. It's Finnick Odair, lost in thought, unaware of my presence. I consider leaving him to his thoughts, but then I remember the fright he gave me on the justice build steps in 4 and I decide to get even. I sneak up slowly behind him before saying suddenly "Any cats tonight" Finnick jumps in surprise at the sound of my voice, quickly turning to face me. His expression shifts from confusion to relief as he realises it's me. "Oh, Marina it's you," he says with a chuckle. "No cats tonight, but plenty of other interesting creatures at this party." I nod in agreement and hand him one of the glasses of champagne in my hand “Here you look like you need this as much as I do” he takes it and raises it in a toast. "To survive the madness," he says, clinking his glass against mine. We both take a long sip, savouring the bubbles and the momentary respite from the chaos inside.

We both stand in slice for a few moments as we savour the quiet i observe him out of the corner of my eye every few seconds as I lean on the railing now as well

Huh it is more of a bronze blonde

He glances at me and our eyes meet. I look away, feeling my cheeks flush. He smiles, and I quickly look away, my heart pounding. I clear my throat awkwardly and gulp the champagne, attempting to distract myself from the fluttering feeling in my chest. As I look back at Finnick, I notice a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes me wonder what he's thinking. Unlike last time I don't feel as uneasy in his presence maybe it is because it's not my first time meeting him and that it hasn't caught me off guard this time or it could be the amount of champagne I have consumed tonight who knows but I feel confident enough to say "I wanted to apologise for my behaviour the last time we met. You caught me off guard, and I was rude to dismiss your guidance and offer of friendship. I hope you can forgive me”. I see a flash of shock cross his face and a brief flicker of guilt at my words. He takes a moment to compose himself before responding, his voice filled with sincerity. "Marina, there's no need for apologies. I must admit I was teasing you a little bit so does that make us even?" I smile and nod in agreement, feeling relieved and relieved. We stand there, smiling at each other for a few moments before he speaks again. "Let's start over, shall we?" I grin at him before turning to stick my hand out “Hi im Marina, my friends call me Mari”

"Hi Marina, nice to meet you. I'm Finnick," he says, shaking my hand with a warm smile. "Mari, huh? There's no other nickname for you like Rina," he teases me softly with a mischievous look in his eye. I give him a sly smile back, my heart fluttering even more at his playful teasing. "Rina, huh? I guess if you call me Rina I'll have to call you Nick" I counter him with a raised eyebrow as his nose scrunches in disgust at the shortening of his name. "Nick?" he repeats, a hint of disapproval in his voice. "I think I'll stick with Finnick, thank you," he says, a playful challenge in his eyes.’’Then I will stick with Mari” I challenge him back. He raises an eyebrow and looks away, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Suit yourself," he says, his voice still playful. I smile back, my heart still fluttering."Finnick," a shrill voice interrupts as Finnick is about to say something else. We turn and see a Capitol woman coming onto the balcony, her presence immediately commanding attention. Finnick's face drops and his eyes darken for a moment, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features before he quickly masks it with a dazzling smile."I will be with you in a moment," he says, his voice slightly strained, before he turns back to me and gives me a genuine smile. "It was nice seeing you again, Mari. I look forward to seeing you again in a few months," he says, eyes filled with sincerity, and his voice filled with anticipation. "Until then, take care, Rina ." With a final smirk, he turns and walks towards the Capitol woman, I laugh at the use of the name we just arranged not to use and I fire back "See you then Nick" Finnick turns back towards me, a surprised expression on his face. He chuckles and shakes his head. "You're relentless, aren't you?" he says with a playful glint in his eyes. "Alright, see you then, Mari" he adds, emphasising his use of Mari, his voice filled with amusement. As Finnick disappears back into the party with the woman, I stand there, contemplating his words. Suddenly, it dawns on me why we will see each other in a few months - we will both be mentors for the Games.

The realisation sends a shiver down my spine. As the weight of my new role sinks in, a sense of dread and hopelessness settles over me. The thought of having to mentor two children and watch them face their demise in the Games fills me with deep sadness, knowing that there is little I can do to protect them from the horrors that await. Despite the possibility of seeing those captivating sea-green eyes and bronze curls again, the sense of impending doom weighs heavily on my heart. The excitement of getting to know Finnick is overshadowed by the grim reality of being a mentor in the Games, where the odds are stacked against the tributes and their fate is sealed.

Notes: Heyo I hope everyone who is reading is enjoying it so far, this chapter was fun to write with all the different things going on, Mari and her pa were probably my second favourite moment to write it not that they have a bad relationship but I like to imagine how I would feel after travelling with a parent for 12 days in a row when you're both stressed and all I could think of is arguments lol......next chapter we will get to see district ten and a bit more of Mari family and what her life to really like ......feedback is always welcome and if there's any questions about the story feel free to ask

#finnick odair #finnick x you #thg finnick #finnick odair blurb #hunger games finnick #thg fanfiction #thg series #the hunger games #finnick imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair headcanons #the hunger games oc

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daisydaisybilly · 5 months

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to love is to destroy | h.a | prologue

Paring: Haymitch x Giselle Carmine (oc)

summary: the games don’t end at the sound of the last cannon, they don’t end at all

word count: 672

warnings: a lot of talking about what happens to victors after the games, mentions of death and injury, mentions of vomiting, drinking and mentions of drug use, angst, fluff (very small). All warnings will be mentioned before each part

a/n: Again I was inspired by @nebulablakemurphy and they’re amazing Haymitch fic! There way of expanding the world is mind blowing and I can’t recommend it enough, divider by @cafekitsune

This may or not be deleted and rewritten as an x reader. I wanted to try out an old so i can be more descripted about the MC

HUNGER GAMES MASTERLIST

Ladies and gentlemen The winner of the 55th hunger games, Gisella Carmine

She woke up gasping, the now cold bath water splashed onto the tile floor, the sun was high in the sky, afternoon, the reaping. Swearing she climbed from the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. The night before the games always left her with little sleep, at one point she gave up and ran a bath.

It wouldn’t be long until the cameras and the people arrived in the square, Haymitch would need waking from his white liquor induced sleep.

Reaping days were the hardest days to get through, for both of them. Haymitch drank and forgot. She cooked and she baked and she tried to forget.

A dress had been sent days before, every year a new dress would come and once she reached the capitol, a whole closet awaited her. The dress hung from the curtain rail in her room. A golden collar embedded with gems and diamonds looping to make open shoulder sleeves, the dress was made from red velvet and hit the floor.

She ran her fingers through her hair, detangling the curls until they looked good enough for all the eyes of the capitol to see. The bags under her eyes disappeared after she rubbed some of the magic cream the capitol sent.

As she passed the downstairs toilet, she heard Haymitch heave and cough, his skin was pale and wet. Carefully she knelt beside him, even more careful not to get anything on her dress. She laid her hand on his forehead, “It’s almost time”.

Haymitch wobbled back on to his ass, his back against the wall, he reached inside his dressing gown pocket for his flasks, he took one big gulp, “nice dress”.

Gisella rolled her eyes, taking the flasks from him, swallowing a mouthful, it burnt all the way down and sat in her empty stomach unhappily, then she took another drink. Normally she never drank, but when the games began things were different.

“How long do we have?” he asked, slowly standing. “Five minutes maybe? Not long enough to shower” she laughed, standing too.

“Enough to drink” he smiled sluggishly and took the flask back.

She went into the kitchen and made herself eat some bread she had brought from the baker the day before, it helped settle the nervous waves cursing through her body.

It would be a waste to try and get Haymitch to eat so she left him be and waited.

Haymitch was late.

Mayor Undersee and Effie Trinket, murmured to each other, worried about the missing mentor. Gisella kept her eyes forward, blocking them out. Looking to all the faces of the children dreading the moment she would send two in the games.

The clock hit two and the mayor began his usual speech, about the history of panem and how things ended the way they were today. From the uprising, to the fighting and finally ‘the peace’. The peace of course being the games. Then he reads the list of district 12 winners, only two are living. To her right, Gisella hears Haymitch mumble and wobbles up the steps. She fixed on her seats as he fell into his.

He looked confused when the crowd applauded at his name,he threw his arms around Effie, who barely managed to get away from him. All of Panem will carry on seeing 12 as a laughingstock. Haymitch as the same old drunk and Gisella as the one who does all the work.

Mayor Undersee took his seat again, then the pink haired Effie rose and took to the centre of the stage. If Gisella had to guess, Effie was looking to step up to bigger and better districts, 12 is the bottom of the pile.

Old memories flash in her mind, wishing she drank more in the morning, she looked past the square, past the people and to the green hills outside the districts and remembered happier times with her grandfather.

“I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute”

two

#haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x oc #haymitch abernathy x original character #thg fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games oc #the hunger games original character #haymitch abernathy fanfiction #haymitch x oc #thg haymitch

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daughter-of-melpomene · 4 months

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

❝ For as long as she could remember, Anastasia had known she was going to win the Hunger Games. The oldest daughter and only child of a pair of politicians from Panem’s wealthy District Two, it had only been a matter of time before she had joined the long line of so-called “career tributes” that had come before her, volunteering for the Games because, as someone from a rich district who had had the advantage of actually being trained for this, she could afford to volunteer with very little fear of dying in the arena. And so, after years of training under the critical eyes of former District Two victors, of honing her skills with weapons of all kinds and developing her hand-to-hand combat skills until she could snap an opponent’s neck in only three moves, sixteen-year-old Anastasia had raised her voice at the Reaping and volunteered for the 72nd Hunger Games, determined and ready to enter the arena and add her name to the long list of victors from her district.

And so she had. After spending nine weeks, one of the longest periods of time a Games had ever lasted, in frozen and desolate terrain that had only toward the end become a blistering desert, after killing her way through twelve of her fellow tributes to become the deadliest tribute in Hunger Games history, Anastasia had been named victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, removed from the arena with both frostbite and a vicious sunburn and the blood of her last remaining competitor still on her hands, and taken back to District Two, where she was greeted with parades and parties and parents who proclaimed they’d never been prouder of her.

And she found that, contrary to what she’d always imagined would happen when she came back home a victor, she fucking hated all of it.

Over the next two years, with the exception of her Victory Tour, Anastasia gradually disappeared from the public eye, refusing all offers of a home in the Capital and training the next round of hopeful career tributes, until she became nothing more than a recluse, a self-imposed captive within the walls of her beautiful District Two penthouse, waking up screaming and thrashing from nightmares almost every night and never quite being able to believe that the blood she’d shed was gone from her hands. With every day that passed, she grew more bitter and full of rage towards the Capital and everyone who supported the Games, how they could watch and even cheer as children slaughtered one another for their entertainment and willingly send these children to die simply as penance for something that had happened so long ago, and with every day she lost a bit more hope that anything was ever going to change, convinced that the terrible cycle of violence was going to keep going and going and going long after she was dead, buried and allowed the privilege of a funeral where so many of the tributes she had killed were not.

But then, two years after the Games that had made Anastasia into a murderer, the two tributes from District Twelve had won the 74th Hunger Games together, choosing to die at the same time rather than let the Capital have its way, and Anastasia’s faith in the world restored itself by just a bit. As Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark began their Victory Tour and all of Panem dealt with the minor chink in the armor of their worldview that had come with their victory, Anastasia made sure to keep an eye on the two of them, becoming more and more intrigued with these two defiant young people from the poorest district and how they continued to defy the Capital’s will even as those in power work to keep them on a leash, and whispers of rebellion travel even into the tall and elegant buildings of Anastasia’s district.

And when the third Quarter Quell comes along, forcing former victors from all districts to once again become tributes and revisit possibly the worst experience of any of their lives, Anastasia finds she is actually looking forward to finally meeting these two and seeing them up close - even if she fully intends to die in the Quarter Quell arena, refusing to let the Capital make any more of a monster out of her. But as the 75th Hunger Games commences and Anastasia finds herself becoming closer and closer to Katniss and Peeta, she wonders if, perhaps, allowing herself to die would be letting the Capital win after all. If it would not be better to survive - hopefully, potentially, with these two people she finds herself beginning to care for - and become a different type of soldier as the rebellion against the Capital kicks off in earnest.

If, after almost three years of horrific nightmares and nails bitten bloody and seeing the faces of the children she murdered everywhere she goes, Anastasia can finally show the glittering pigs in the Capital exactly what happens when they make children into killers and tell them to find peace. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @carmens-garden, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @oneirataxia-girl, @ocappreciationtag.

#my ocs #introducing my ocs #ch: anastasia upland #oc: anastasia upland #fic: there will be blood #queerocs #ocapp #ocappreciation #ochub #allaboutocs #fyeahhungergamesocs #fyeahthgocs #the hunger games oc #hunger games oc #behold my violent and traumatized angel #i do know that the 72nd games has a canon victor but the point of fanfic is supposed to be to change canon isn’t it?#sorry pliny

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dancingsunflowers-ocs · 27 days

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𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗬 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 @daughter-of-melpomene/@faerieroyal 🥳

Cheryl “Cher” Johnston x Ted “Theodore” Logan {Bill & Ted} Victoria “Ria” Santos x Joey Tribbiani {FRIENDS} Layla Dupreti x Hikaru Sulu {Star Trek} Greta Dwarf x Evie Grimhilde {Disney’s Descendants} Leo Cooper x Artie Abrams {Glee} Anastasia Upland x Katniss Everdeen + Peeta Mellark {The Hunger Games}

Hope you have an AMAZING day!!! 💖

#ocappreciation #ocapp #ocfairygodmother #original character #queerocs #glee oc #star trek oc #the hunger games oc #disney descendants oc #friends oc #others ocs

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romerona · 2 months

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The Worm

Surviving the game and losing yourself in the way.

"Don't go underestimating the power of a small force, it may be the only thing that can slip through the cracks."

ROSEMARY BLACK X OC!SNOWMALE.

ROSEMARY BLACK X PRIMROSE EVERDEEN.

"Rosemary Black, district 10, the youngest ever victor in the Hunger Games. Don't let her age fool you, she a force to be reckoned with, known for her cunning wit and speed she managed to-"

"I remember her… I found it hard to believe it then and still find it hard to believe it now."

"Well, then you know that with the right motivation, she's unstoppable."

Rosemary Black × OC!SnowMale? // Primrose Everdeen?

A/N: There would be a few inaccuracies but please, remember this is a fanfic. I'm unsure If I will match Rose with anyone yet but I'll think about it as the story goes.

Masterlist.

[THE SCORE]

Rose was scolded by practically everyone in her ‘team’ for getting into the bad side of the careers in her very first day. From Allen, who she was sure had almost giving up on her, to freaking Lennox, who decided she had condemned Eugene (which to be fair she kind of did) to a horrible death. Before she could even explain herself she was STRONGLY advised to steer clear of careers for the remaining of the training days.

Rose was already planning on doing that, the second Blaze Rafferty dangle her from her shirt, Rose knew she had to stay as far away from him as she possibly could.

That would prove to be a challenge, however, for the next day, while trying her best to stay away and picking up a few skills like archery ( to which she’s more than pleased to know she’s decent at it) or spears (too heavy for her to hurt someone let alone kill) she could feel the heated gaze of the careers, it was burning her back and settling a deep hole in her bowls.

They made her beyond nervous.

But it wasn't until lunch when Rose heard Blaze and Xury speak with District 4 tributes, which after 1 and 2 were the biggest threat for the other 18 tributes, that if either Blaze or Xury didn’t kill the worm, (as they had nicknamed her) in the bloodbath, the first one to do so will be able to join their alliance. That made Rose feel terrified.

They were loud enough for every other tribute to hear, of course, Rose knows it was on purpose. It was an open invitation, a challenge, yet another game, for the others to join.

After that, she was in autopilot after that and refused to looked at anyone she simple and almost in daze continued her archery practice while Blaze’s words repeated in her mind over and over that not even Eugene, who tried his best to keep her mind of off it, could make her heart to stop terrorizing the inside of her chest.

That night Rose escaped to the rooftop of the building, because where else could she go? She felt suffocated in her disgustingly luxurious room.

Leaning against the railing, ignoring the view of the capitol and the chilling breeze that came form within the mountains, Rose took a shaky breath, then another and another but no matter how much she breathed nothing seemed to be making it to her lungs.

It seems that whatever courage she had excited her body.

‘I won’t accept the fate they all believe I’ll have’

‘but I refuse to leave the Games in whatever form that is without trying my best.’

‘I promise I’ll make it.’

It was all a load of bullshit, wasn’t it? She’ll never make it. Allen was right she’s going to die in the arena, and she’ll never get any sponsors or make people like her, she a lost case they all know that, and until now she refused to believe it because she’s so optimistically blind, she stubborn and so fucking stupid.

What was she thinking when she convinced Allen that she could handle this? She can’t, he was right and now she has the burden to live up to her stupid stupid deal.

So fucking stupid.

Her brother, her father, her grandfather… she can only hope they forgive her for not making it back to them, for not keeping her promise. She hopes they live a happy life, she hopes that Finn finds someone who will make him happy, she hopes her father doesn’t beat himself up, and she hopes her grandfather lives the rest of his life healthy. And her friends, Harper and Chet, she hope they end up marrying each other and living a happy life or as happy as this life can offer.

Rose will miss dancing in Buckaroo's Bar, she will miss singing with her father, she’ll miss the heat of the day, she’ll miss the sun, she’ll miss the stream near her house, she’ll miss… Rod.

‘I promise I’ll make it.’

It was all a load of bullshit, wasn’t it? She’ll never make it. Allen was right she’s going to die in the arena, she’ll never get any sponsors or make people like her, she a lost case they all know that, and until now she refused to believed it because she’s so optimistically blind, she stubborn and so fucking stupid.

What was she thinking when she convinced Allen that she could handle this? She can’t, he was right and now she has the burden to live up to her stupid stupid deal.

So fucking stupid.

Her brother, her father, her grandfather… she can only hope they forgive her for not making it back to them, for not keeping her promise. She hopes they live a happy life, she hopes that Finn finds someone that will make him happy, she hopes her father don’t beat himself up, she hopes her grandfather lives the rest of his life healthy. And her friends, Harper and Chet, she hopes they end up marrying each other and live a happy life or as happy as this life is able to offer.

Suddenly, Rose felt something nudge her foot forcing her to look up at the perpetrator, it was a woman, she’d seen before, the spiky brown hair and wide-set brown eyes was too familiar. “Get up, kid.”

The woman said, nudging her again with her heel. Was she a tribute? No, she couldn’t be, not dressed like that, surely. Not with the bottle of a crimson liquid in her hand. Not with the bored eyes she stared at Rose with. And she hasn't seen the woman at the training center either.

“Why?” Rose mumbled, only realizing that she had somehow ended up on the floor and hugging her knees for dear life.

“Because it’s pathetic.” The girl took a swing out of her bottle turning to look at the view. “And the only place I can relax in this goddamned place is here and you’re ruining it, so up.”

Rose couldn’t but scowl at the woman, “Who are you and why should I care about you want?”

That made the girl turn to her. She leans down a little to stare down at Rose. “I think the question is why are you here crying like a baby for?”

“What do you mean—“

“Wake up, kid.” The girl snaps at her, “Tears are not going to help with anything. Stop whining, will you?”

"Go fuck yourself," Rose swiftly wipes away her tears, glaring up at the girl.

The mysterious woman raised an eyebrow at Rose's sudden defiance.

"Well, look at that. A backbone," she remarked, taking another casual sip from her bottle. "But let me tell you something, kid. Nobody cares. In here, it's every person for themselves. You cry, you die. Simple as that."

A wave of bitterness washed over Rose as she processed the harsh reality laid out before her. She hesitated for a moment, then defiantly retorted, "If it's every person for themselves, why bother helping me up?"

The woman's eyes flickered with a mix of annoyance and amusement. "I didn't say I'm helping you. I said you're ruining my spot. There's a difference."

"Whatever," Rolling her eyes, Rose braced herself as she stood up. "Even if I stop crying I'm dead anyway, why does it matter?"

"Don't tap out so quickly, kid. Your chances might be better than you think inside the arena,"

"Right, because kids my age usually make it out," Rose scoffs a bitter laugh.

"Well, that is true," The woman shrugs and moves to lean against the railing looking down at the street, "But at least most of them go down fighting and not whining,"

"They probably did," Rose mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms as she felt the cold of the mountains.

"Whatever kid, if you want to go and die in the arena be my guess, I don't give a shit," The woman took another sign of her bottle before muttering, "And If I'm honest, I think death is better than this shit,"

Rose frowns, hugging herself tighter, she regards the back of the woman's head, she is so familiar but Rosemary can't pinpoint from where.

"What do you mean?"

The girl glances back at her, and she sighs looking back at the view, "Nothing. Just leave already if you're going to keep whining."

Rose stood there for a moment looking at the view of the Capitol skyscrapers. The air was cold but fresh, far too different from the dry wind of her district. Her district. They will see her in a few days fighting in the arena, they are counting on her, on Eugene. Eugene, her partner, he has been so supportive these past few days, he's been training, fighting against the odds to help them when they were in the arena... and what is she doing? crying. The girl is right, that's pathetic. Imagine how disappointed would be her family if she went down without a fight.

Rose can't disappoint them like that neither can she disappoint Eugene, he has been giving his all so she should too if not for her at least for him, for her district, and for her family.

"Thank you," Rose mumbles lowly, just enough for the girl to hear. She isn't all aware of why she's thanking her but it feels right.

Without waiting for her response (which Rose thinks won't come anyway) she made her way back inside with a newfound determination.

No more crying, no more whining, no more feeling bad for herself. The future ain't written in stone.

The next day rolled around, the last day of group training. Rose decided that she would try hand-to-hand combat, after all, her skill with knives works better when close to the victim.

Rose stood in the training center, surrounded by the faint hum of activity as tributes prepared for the imminent Games.

The trainer demonstrated a few basic moves, showing her how to break free from a rear chokehold. He emphasized the importance of swift reactions and using her body's natural leverage.

"Remember, it's about using their momentum against them," the trainer explained. "Now, you give it a try."

Rose squared her shoulders, mentally preparing herself. The trainer approached from behind, mimicking a potential threat. In a split second, Rose executed the techniques she had just learned, twisting her body and breaking free from the hold.

"You're a fast learner, good," the trainer praised.

Rose grins at him, "Yeah, well, when your life's at stake, you tend to become one,"

The trainer huffs a laugh, "Okay, now, let's say someone comes at you with a frontal grab. You want to create distance and be ready to react. Keep your hands up, elbows close to your body, and stay light on your feet."

They continued the session, with the trainer guiding Rose through various scenarios. In the short hours, she learned to deflect grabs, escape from holds, and use her body to create openings to attack.

Each move is a step closer to survival.

As the sessions continued, there were times when Rose failed to execute a manoeuvre or became momentarily disoriented, but she refused to let the setbacks define her.

The trainer observed her progress and noted, "You won't get it right every time, Rose. What matters is your ability to get back up and keep going. Adaptability is the key to survival."

During surprise attack simulations, there were instances where Rose found herself momentarily overwhelmed. Yet, no matter how many times she hit the mat, she rose again, determination burning in her eyes.

With each fall, Rose learned. She absorbed the lessons of her mistakes, and despite the setbacks, Rosemary persevered.

Soon after lunch, they were calling the districts, one by one in order. District 1 is first the dumbass of Blaze and then Xury. Then goes District 2, Devon and then Aria and then 3 then 4 and so on until it was their turn.

"Eugene Dion," the voice called making Rose nervous fidgeting to stop. She felt Eugene squeeze her interlaced hand.

"Good luck, make them remember you" Rose mumbled squeezing back.

Eugene nods, and he sends her a smile. It was as if she was nervous for both of them. "Right back at you, Rosie,"

With that, they let go of each other and Rose watched him walk through the doors. Her nervous fidgeting came back as she waited for her name to be called; she tapped her feet, crossed and uncrossed her legs, drummed her fingers, and played with her hair that somehow Pearl had managed to put in a bun.

Another minute ticks by and she looks at the back door thinking of Eugene. Rose has no idea what his skill is, all she knows is that he is good at milking cows which means he has a good grip right? He might been able to learn something like climbing or something, hell, maybe he even learned how to use an axe or--

"Rosemary Black,"

Her heart did a summersault. Rose took a deep, shaky breath before standing up and with all the confidence she managed to gather, Rose walked through the doors.

The Gamemakers, all sat on their platform, some talking amongst each other, others drinking wine, others eating and very few looking at her, paying attention.

Shit. Okay. Okay, It's cool.

The cold metal of the training weapons gleamed under the artificial lights. Determination etched across her face, Rose decided to focus on close combat. She approached the weapons rack and selected a set of knives. The weight felt familiar in her hands, a comfort amid the impending chaos.

Summoning her courage, Rose decided to address the indifferent Gamemakers. "Hey, ya'll!" she called out, her voice carrying a playful twang that turned a few heads. Rose flashed a radiant smile, acknowledging those who bothered to look her way.

"I reckon I'm interrupting some important business here, but I promise it's worth the while," she continued her facade, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

A few Gamemakers exchanged glances, curiosity piqued by Rose's unexpected interruption. She seized the moment, more confident in her ability to make an impression even if it was just shit-talking her way out or rather up the ranks.

With a sly grin, Rose twirled her knife with flair. "Now, I know you've seen tributes before, but trust me, you haven't seen one like me." She struck a pose, emphasizing her point with a touch of sass.

With knives in hand, Rose moved to a designated training area, an open space where combat simulations could be enacted. She eyed the target dummies lined up, their fabric surfaces waiting to be pierced by her blades.

As she moved into her lively demonstration, Rosemary infused it with a comical touch. The rhythmic sounds of the knife striking the training dummies were accompanied by a playful commentary.

"I call this move the 'Dodgin' Districts.' It's a real crowd-pleaser."

The Gamemakers, initially surprised, found themselves chuckling and exchanging amused glances. Rose's charismatic, talking her way up, approach is working.

She continued her demonstration, her strikes were deliberate, aimed at vital points while mixing dance-like footwork with quick jabs at the training dummies.

Rose finally stopped, catching her breath, and gave a mock bow. "Well, what do ya think, folks? Ain't that a sight for sore eyes?"

With a final wink, Rose exited the stage she had created, leaving the Gamemakers amused and hopefully thoroughly charmed. Rose had successfully showcased her close combat skills with a knife while infusing the moment with her 'charm' good or bad as it may be, Rose was sure she would be memorable.

-----

"How did it go?" asks Caine the second she steps into the District 10 suit.

Rosemary glances at the familiar and expecting faces of Allen and Eugene before looking back at Caine. "I.. think it was okay,"

"Okay?Okay?" Caine huffs, "Just an okay?"

"We want to know what you did, kid," Allen spoke from his place on the sofa.

Rose moves to the sitting room, "I don't know I showed them that I can use a knife and sort of talk to them through it,"

"Talk them through it?" Caine asks slightly scandalize.

"I made them give me their attention," Rose turns to Allen who was regarded with curiosity, " A character, right? Charming them up and whatnot,"

"That only works with the audience, kid,"

"Maybe it'll work with them too," Rose looks at Eugene while sliding down next to him."What about you?"

"I didn't have much to show them but I climbed and built some shelters," Eugene shrugs looking away, he purses his lips "I don't think I'll get a good score, I mean they didn't even look at me,"

"I'm sure it'll be okay, Gene," Rose tells him, with a reassuring smile.

Allen spoke again, "Sometimes it's better to get a low score. Keeps the targets off your back, y'know."

Pearl and Lennox arrived just before dinner, both stylists asking the same questions about their private session. This time around Rose decided to keep the details to herself.

After dinner, Pearl sat beside her on the sofa as the team waited for Ceasar to announce the scores on her other side was Eugene. The team was chatting among themselves waiting for the show to start, meanwhile Rose was drumming her fingers nervously on her tight.

She hears the music of the intro of the show and everyone quiets down, compulsively she reaches for Eugene's hand, and she feels him squeeze it but at the moment she is more focused on the television.

They showed a picture of Blaze Rafferty on the screen and below it, his score, which of course, was a 10 because her life couldn't be easy. the same with the rest of the Districts. The careers got the usual high score, the lowest being the boy from 4 with an eight. Then the rest of the tribute's scores were average.

And after some minutes it came theirs.

Rose's stomach churned as the television focused on Eugene's image. She felt the squeeze of his hand, a shared moment of solidarity. A five appeared beneath his picture, and a murmur of encouragement spread through the room.

"That's an okay score," Caine offered reassuringly. "It's the half of the punctuation, not so bad."

Eugene nodded but remained quiet, disappointment lingering in his eyes. Rose shot him an encouraging smile, silently communicating that they could overcome this together. The arena was where they'd truly prove themselves.

Then, it was her turn. The camera shifted to Rose's image, and she held her breath, bracing for impact. To her surprise, a seven flashed beneath her picture. A wave of relief swept over her, and a triumphant smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

The tension in the room gradually lifted as Rose's seven was announced. The weight on her shoulders seemed to ease, and she allowed herself a moment to bask in the relief. Glancing at Eugene, she saw a subtle smile breaking through his disappointment. It was a moment of shared triumph amidst the pressure of the Capitol's judgment.

Caine, the team mentor, grinned approvingly. "A seven! That's a solid score, Rose."

Allen, ever the pragmatic strategist, nodded in agreement. "He's right. We can work with that."

The team, though not entirely satisfied, began to see the silver lining. The scores were decent, and the anticipation of the upcoming challenges fueled their determination.

As the broadcast continued, showcasing the tributes from other districts, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The initial disappointment transformed into a quiet resolve.

Rose squeezed Eugene's hand again, this time with a hint of pride. "We got this, Gene," she whispered.

The redhead took a breath turned to face Rose and nods, "We do,"

The room buzzed with subdued conversations and strategy discussions for the upcoming interview with Caesar Flickerman. This would be their very last chance to secure sponsors and stand out in the eyes of the Capitol audience.

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come-along-pond · 2 months

Text

notes: My first box on the @occreatorexchange prompt bingo! Yes I did say I'd use democracy for this but I started writing and this is cute okay! This is set a few years after the Second Rebellion. I also made lil picture overlays because @endless-oc-creations did it and I thought it was cute.

warnings: uh, probably inaccurate descriptions of the districts.

Elara Admiral (OC) x Finnick Odair: Sleepy Cuddles

AO3 VERSION

District 4 was warm, bright and sunny. Homes by the seafront had seashells hanging from string, glistening in the lights whilst those deeper in were made of a warm sandstone. It was different to Elara’s home in 2, she was used to grey walls and the clang of metal, and she often remembered waking up in the morning to a faint metallic smell. Now, she just smelt Finnick. Every morning she woke up and he was her first thought, her first sensation, his arms wrapped around her, securing her to his chest. She felt safe and protected. That was new for her.

Today was like no other, she awoke facing away from him, his left arm under her head whilst his right drew faint circles over her thigh. She felt a faint breeze on her neck, the consequence of leaving the window slightly ajar, she didn’t mind, the sea air calmed her.

“Morning,” she mumbles and she feels Finnick shift, grinning into her neck

“Hi,” Elara threads her fingers through the ones on her thigh, sighing in content.

The sun streames through the thin curtains, and Elara turns so she’s facing the window - and Finnick.

His hair is messy, the bright blonde tips scrunched together, she lightly rakes her fingers through it, separating pieces, he groans slightly and Elara giggles, continuing the motion. They fall into a comforting silence, content with just each other’s company, the gentle breeze through their hair and the faint sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

Finally, Elara breaks the silence “No surfing plans today?”

“I’d much rather stay here with you,” Finnick croaks out, sleep coating his voice

“Well I -” she pauses for effect, tracing his jawline “Have to walk to the post office to send off our letter to Peeta and Katniss,”

“They can wait,” he grumbles, leaning into her touch, and tangling his legs with hers, her tone turns teasing.

“You know how Peeta is when we take too long to reply, I already left it a day,” Finnick groans and burrows his head into Elara’s chest “Come on, the sooner I send it, the sooner you learn when you can see your boyfriend again,” It was a running joke between the two couples, how close Finnick and Peeta were, it was funny, considering how often Joanna had said that Finnick was Katniss’ ‘Work Wife’ whilst Peeta was Elara’s.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Finnick laughs, his usual bellow muffled by her sleep shirt.

“No, no it’s okay, me and Kat know where we stand,” Elara grins when Finnick looks up at her, a fake pout on his face.

“You’re insufferable”

“I know,” she smiles and he pushes himself up, lingering over her now, he softly presses his lips to hers and Elara closes her eyes, warm and sleepy.

Finnick pulls back and studies his girlfriend, her hair sprawled over the light yellow sheets, she looked happy, with a slight tan and golden strands of hair, courtesy of the sun. It was nice to see her like this, so carefree. He’d spent years watching her in the Capitol, cold and disconnected, then in the 75th games, calculated. They were free now, Panem was free and she chose to lay here with him, chose to cook dinner and try to learn to surf just because he loved it so much. She was happy. He was happy.

“You’re staring,” Elara mutters, Finnick doesn’t reply, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and laying back down next to her

“One more hour?” he asks softly, Elara looks right and into his pleading green eyes.

“One more hour,”.

----------&----------

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