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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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The Archer and The Wrestler.

Written by: @thegirlfromoverthepond

Prompt 90: The Olympic committee is selling sponsorships and heavily advertising the upcoming games. The most photogenic of each sport is asked to pose for pics and attend functions, film commercial together, do some interviews. What sports represented by Katniss, Peeta, others? Required to look cozy? Animosity behind those smiles? Competitiveness? Banter? Any secrets? Do they have a “breakfast club” ending? by @567inpanem

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Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark meet in the office of Trinket Advertising, where they have to shoot pictures for sponsors.

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Thank you @567inpanem for the prompt ! I had fun writing it :) PLus I could place it in my country which is always a plus. I hope you won’t be disappointed …

My deepest thanks to @sunsetsrmydreams for pre reading and betaing.

To @xerxia31 and @javistg thank you for hosting such a nice event … and So sorry for the delay !

__________________

I should be practicing, she thought, instead of pacing the long, white, corridor of Trinket Advertising.

Katniss still had a ton to do for the Games. Be sure to be fit, to be healthy, to be accurate. To shoot straight.

She really didn’t want to spend her afternoon waiting for some photographer to ask her to act natural in front of a camera. But she was just glad she didn’t have to shoot with someone from the team, as she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to focus with the constant bickering between Johana and Gale or how Haymitch, their trainer, would “Sweetheart” this or that.

Still no clue as to why she had been picked to be the representative of her sport for the sponsors and advertising. She wasn’t really sure she knew what it entailed, how much time she would spend parading around the media instead of practicing. She knew archery wasn’t such a popular sport in the States, preventing her from spending huge amounts of time in talk shows, or interviews.

Plus, seeing the recognition made Prim, her sister, so proud and happy, Katniss hadn’t been able to turn down the offer when it came.

“Kathy Everdeen? You’re up next.” The assistant’s piercing voice echoed in the long corridor. Katniss closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to not correct the woman.

“Welcome to the Strange Name That Can’t Be Taken Seriously Club.” Another voice, male this time, made her open her eyes.

In front of her was a man of around her age, wearing the male version of the US Olympics shirt she had on..

Only his was stretched across his broad frame, where she was glad hers was loose around her lean body.

He extended his hand.

“Peeta Mellark. Wrestling. Founding member of the club.” She stared at his hand, before moving a step forward to shake it. “You’re the archer ? Katniss right?”

She stopped mid-movement. How could he know her name ?

“I saw your name on the list, so I figured you’d be next ?” He said, almost shyly, as if he had offended her, or invaded her privacy.

She saw the movement of his hand, that she had left unshaken, going to his hair, his fingers raking through his mane of curls.

He had done nothing wrong, she realized, just tried to clear the air. She took a breath, before extending her own hand in front of her.

“Yeah, I’m Katniss. Archery. How much is the subscription to the club?”

He laughed, before shaking her hand.

“How about tea after you’re done ?”

“Too bad I only drink coffee … but I guess if you can wait a bit, that’s doable.” Katniss almost smiled when Peeta started to laugh.

“Oh my goodness, I have a genius idea !” A voice froze their handshaking. “We are going to do pair shootings! Mix the sports together, along with the portraits. It’s going to be legendary !”

A woman with very pink hair matching her very pink outfit stood in the entrance leading towards the studio. As soon as she stopped talking, a flock of what Katniss could only think were assistants came in view, all clapping their hands or praising the Pink Lady.

“Effie, this is another grand idea! We should start right now with these two!” The woman that had misspelled Katniss’ name said, “as they are both here.”

“What are you waiting for, Octavia, take her to make-up right now! I need to call Plutarch, I am having a ton of ideas ! Hush hush, now come on, quickly!”

Katniss saw the assistants moving as one, starting to circle her and Peeta, moving them forward inside the studio, where a couple were checking their cameras and the large umbrellas reflecting the lights.

“Cinna, Portia, I had an epiphany!” The Pink Lady walked towards the couple as quickly as her pencil dress and very high heels allowed her, while Katniss was ushered to the make-up table. She noticed that Peeta was following right behind her, with the other half of the assistants. She met his gaze, saw him shrug before he was taken to another table, shielded from her view by the different makeup and hair artists around them.

“We’ll start with you, Kathy!” Octavia said a few minutes later. Katniss took another deep breath, calming her temper. In just a few minutes, she’ll be gone. Archery wasn’t high on the list of sponsors, nobody cared about them, but for the bow and arrows brands.

Katniss didn’t have time to muse as the sound of Octavia’s heels on the tiling started again. She rose from the chair, following the young woman towards a dressing cabin.

“You’ll find your uniform inside. You’re a S, right?”

“How do you know?” Katniss asked, surprised that the woman guessed correctly.

“I have an eye for that. Plus, it’s written on your card.”

She repressed another eyeroll, trying to keep in mind that Octavia was only doing her job, before she entered the dressing cabin.

White pants, blue polo lined with red, and a white undershirt to protect her arms. The standard equipment.

Yet, it was something to see it, to realize she would represent her country in the most important tournament there could be, that she had achieved one of her goals. To be an Olympian.

She took the polo, turning it slowly, almost afraid to read what was on the back.

Everdeen.

Her father’s name, embroidered in the cotton of the shirt.

Pride rushed through her veins as her fingers traced the letters.

“I did it, Papa. I’m going to the Olympics.”

______________________

It was now official. She hated photoshoots. First, because it was taking an awful lot of time, then because you had to smile. All.the.time. That Katniss hasn’t screamed yet or ran off the door was entirely due to her willpower gained from years of training.

The photographer, Cinna, wasn’t a talker. He was taking his time to snap picture after picture, never acknowledging Octavia or Effie’s advice for her to smile this way, or that way. Because there was apparently a way to smile properly.

She could feel her anger rise with each passing minute, the incessant chatter of the women, the silence of the photographer, the heat from the spotlights, the wind from the huge fans, the itching from the label of the polo on her neck…

“I think it’s time to pair them up.” The photographer’s voice calmly said, silencing the two women.

From being Effie and Octavia, Peeta made his way towards the scene where Katniss was standing.

Before anyone could say a thing, Cinna turned to Effie and his assistant.

“Ladies, can you please check if we have athletes that can be paired tomorrow too? I’m sorry to ask in such short notice, but I think Effie’s idea is something we have to work on.. of course it will mean you change all the schedules..”

“Oh, my, Cinna, but yes, of course! If you think so ? But will you be able to manage with these two?” Effie Trinket asked. Katniss could feel the sharpness of her gaze as the older woman looked at her.

“If there is the slightest problem, I’ll make sure Portia comes to get you.”

“Yes, please. Because if we can manage to pair Brutus and Enobaria, we might be on something, right?”

“Right.” Cinna nodded, before moving towards his material, his back to Katniss as he rummaged through his material.

She looked at her partner in the photoshoot, who seemed as lost as she was. He kept running his hand in his mane of blond hair, before shoving them in his pockets. Seconds after, he was doing the same movements again. She realized she was doing the same, undoing the end of her braid before redoing it, over and over again.

She really couldn’t wait to be out of the studio.

“Will you two stand back to back, please?” Cinna’s voice startled her, even though it was barely over a whisper. “Portia, can you please close the door?”

That’s when she realized how silent the place was without Effie and Octavia. Without their neverending chatter, their disapproving tongue clicks, or their exaggerated sighs.

It almost felt … good.

Almost.

She started to move then, turning her back to Peeta, before crossing her eyes, hoping he would take the hint to do the same. The sooner they were done, the better. She had her bow waiting for her, after all.

She felt the fabric of Peeta’s polo on her arm, yet, never his weight on her back.

She looked at Cinna, who nodded approvingly, before starting to take pictures.

“Should we smile?” She heard Peeta’s deep voice right behind her, asking the question she didn’t dare ask.

“Do what you want, don’t mind me.” the photographer answered behind his material.

“What we want?” Katniss echoed, unsure she had heard correctly. The previous hour had been filled with recommendations on what to do, on poses to take, on how to smile …

Cinna lowered his camera.

“I’m not Effie. Beauty is everywhere, it doesn’t have to be faked by poses or false smiles. Just do what you two want.” He shrugged before checking something on his camera. “I’ll need a few minutes to fix this, try to relax.”

Katniss turned to her partner in shooting, to realize he had already moved and was facing her.

“You told me you were a coffee girl, right?”

“Yup. Black, no sugar.”

“I don’t take sugar in my tea, either. See we have something in common.” Peeta put his hands high. “Oh, no high five ? We’re not close enough yet.”

“Definitely not, singlet boy.”

“Ouch, that hurts. Know, Miss Everdeen, that a lot of women find that uniform .. appealing.” He raised his eyebrows, wiggling them explicitly.

“I bet they do. The main question is, do you have to shave your torso, so your opponent won’t have the opportunity to pull at your chest hair ?”

Katniss didn’t know what came to her to ask such a question. It was like Peeta made it easy for her to talk, when she usually wasn’t famous for speaking or making her voice heard without shouting.

It was like he had a calm, soothing temper, like a lazy river, ready to cover the fire that was in her.

Maybe they made a good pair.

“Yeah, the worst is the wax under the armpit.” He deadpanned, not even letting a smile on his face.

She could totally imagine him taken down to “Beauty Base Zero” as the woman at the beauty parlor had told her the only time she went there. It included all sorts of treatments, each worse than the others. She even told her sister to not gift her with that kind of torture anymore.

“Ouch.. I hope your girlfriend covers you in aloe after that …”

Katniss knew she wasn’t the most girly woman around, yet she sometimes put on mascara or had her legs waxed from time to time, mostly for competitions when she had decided to wear the short-skirts or the long bermudas.

“Well, meet Hanna, my girlfriend.” Peeta said casually, showing his right hand, wiggling his eyebrows - again.

It took Katniss a few seconds to catch up on the double-entendre.

“Oh, my, you’re disgusting!” Her words couldn’t completely hide her smile. There was something to this man that somehow made her want to talk, to speak, to even trust him.

“I bunked with Finnick Odair at the Youth Olympic Games. That was disgusting! He shaves himself ! the room was full of his hair!”

“Well, you could have collected them before putting them on Ebay. You’d be rich by now.”

“I should have, yes. Dam, why didn’t I know you back then to give me good advice!”

“I wasn’t at the YOG.”

“I know, I would have noticed you.”

She looked at him, with questions in her mind. His eyes were blue, so clear nothing was shadowing them, she was left without words.

Click.

—-

Katniss couldn’t believe she was at the Olympics. In Paris, France. That her childhood dream of bringing a golden medal home was nothing but a few arrows away. A lot of stress, too. She raised her bow, lining the target with her eye, throwing a quick glance to the small flags lining the area to check the wind, took a deep breath, before letting go of the arrow.

She knew right away that it would miss the center of the target. A breath of hair on the right, still not enough to get full marks. She had underestimated the wind on this large, open area that the Esplanade des Invalides was.

“Not too bad.” She jumped at the voice behind her. Maybe some kind of volunteer that had been allowed inside the arenas for training. She needed to focus on the target, on the little golden area that would make her mark a ten in the competition.

She took another arrow from the quiver on her left hip, slid it in the bow, looked at the wind, took a deep breath, lifted her weapon, aimed at the target. With the next exhalation of air, she let go of the arrow, knowing right away it would hit the center.

She had never been able to explain how she knew, each and every time how her arrow would behave. It was a feeling, a sensation, deep inside of her.

Thunk !

She looked at the target, saw that indeed the arrow was in the yellow area. She almost let a smile show on her mouth, when the same voice distrubed her again.

“You might win if you shoot like that.”

Katniss closed her eyes, letting a sigh escape before turning to face whoever decided to disturb her training.

“Peeta!” She felt a smile forming on her face. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I was practising, then decided to go for a walk. It’s Paris after all!”

“Here?” Katniss was pretty sure she hadn’t seen any other sport on the green grass in front of the Invalides.

“Oh, not here here, over there!” Peeta turned, his right hand moving over his shoulder, showing the Eiffel Tower. “Wrestling is on the Champ de Mars, at the feet of the tower”

“Really? You’ll have to tell me when you’re in the tournament. So I can come and see you.”

Peeta’s hand went to his head, his fingers raking through his mane of golden curls.

“You’re sure ? If the press sees you there….”

“I’ll tell them I came to support a friend.”

“But you know how the paparazzi are …”

“We’re in France, not the US, nobody cares about archery or wrestling - no offense intended.”

“None taken.”

Peeta looked around, before coming closer to the barriers surrounding the archery arena, then leaning slightly on them, giving Katniss the opportunity to see the muscles in his forearms. She wondered briefly if he already had his waxing treatment.

“Something on your mind, Everdeen?”

Who was he again? A mind-reader ? She quickly turned her eyes from his arms, not lingering on the broad expense of his chest, or how bright his eyes were.

“Yup. I have to finish training if I don’t want to look too ridiculous when the competition starts.”

“What do you say we try one of these cafés when you’re done?” he casually asked. Katniss could see something in his eyes - was it hope ?

Damn, was he playing unfair by throwing coffee into the mix. As if she was known to refuse a cup.

“I still have a few minutes of practice, maybe a raincheck?”

He shrugged, before looking around. “I’m in no rush. I can wait. Patience is a virtue, young grasshopper.”

She nodded, before taking another arrow out of her quirrel.

“Yes, Sensei.”

The arrow hit the center of the target.

———————–

Katniss knew she shouldn’t be there. Not that she didn’t want to, but after pictures of her and Peeta laughing in a small café had hit the stands, her phone hadn’t stopped beeping, demanding a confirmation if there was something going on between the two of them. That, perhaps, all the rumors that had been born after the photoshoot with Cinna, were not rumors at all.

Effie Trinket was, of course, delighted. Jo wouldn’t stop asking about LoverBoy, Gale was threatening to beat the shit out of Peeta (Katniss was almost ready to let him try to do that), and Haymitch kept on asking her if her little romance would damage her results in the field.

Everything was peachy.

Yet, she couldn’t find it in her to regret the time she had spent with Peeta. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much, that she had been able to confide to someone as she had done with him, how he had been open to her too. Like two old friends rekindling a friendship after spending years apart.

Friends they could have been, they had realized when discussing their native places. They had grown up about a hundred miles apart, in the same district of West Virginia. They could have crossed paths about a dozen times, sharing memories of the Meadow Park, where they both had spent time, Katniss had even worked there when they were younger.

Sometime during their afternoon chat, a photographer had spotted them, recognized them, and snapped pictures.

That was a trending subject on Twitter minutes later, before someone even created a ship name for them. The hashtag #Everlark trended for more than a day.

Katniss had pushed her phone away, blocked all the numbers she didn’t know, called Peeta to apologize, before focusing solely on her training.

Her perfect plan had crumbled in hours, when Peeta had caught her in the Victor’s Village Cafeteria, explaining how he was sorry for everything, as the idea of coffees had been his.

They had ended up sharing a meal with Gale and Jo, as well as some of Peeta’s teammates, who kept joking about the Everlark hashtag. In a matter of two hours Katniss was laughing with them, the pain of Effie’s scheme forgotten.

That was why she was currently in the corridors of the Arena where Judo and Wrestling competitions were being held. Her own tournament was starting in two days and Katniss would rather watch sports she didn’t understand, then stay in her room, anxiously waiting for her turn to compete.

Maybe it was time for her to play team mate too. She had put on her US Team attire, gotten her accreditations cards, before jumping into one of the buses that led her to the Champ de Mars.

She hadn’t seen Peeta since breakfast the morning before, when she had forgotten to ask him if he was still okay for her to come.

The building was elegantly sitting on the green grass. In the back, she could see the Eiffel Tower, all dressed up in her beauty and dignity.

In a few minutes she had found the hall with the wrestlers, and a seat in the ranks reserved for athletes. She recognized Thom and Thresh, two of Peeta’s teammates, who waved at her. She talked to them for a few minutes, learning their categories were competing in the coming days.

“Peeta should be in two matches.” Thresh informed her as she sat on the plastic seat. “He should make it to the quarters easily. After…”

“After?” She asked, unsure what THresh meant.

“After, in the quarters he should face Katø, the Russian. A beast. “

“A beast?”

“Yeah, 164 pounds of malice and nastiness.”

“Charming… Maybe someone will eat this Katø first ?”

Thresh shook his head.

“Na, not with this draw. His first worthy opponent will be Peeta.”

She looked at Thresh, thinking back to the afternoon she had spent with Peeta, remembering what he had told her.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much, her cheeks still hurt. They had walked away from the Olympic Archery range, following the banks of the Seine, looking at the amazing monuments, walking by the Musee d’Orsay that Peeta had told her he wanted to visit.

They had crossed the river on a wooden bridge only for pedestrians, walked along the Louvre, until they had found a small café near the Palais Royal where they were still sitting.

“You all have bread names? Why? “

Peeta shrugged, before leaning down a little on the metallic table, as if he was about to confide his deepest secret.

“We own a bakery, back in Panem. Maybe one day, I’ll tell you my real name …”

She laughed, leaning over the table too. She felt bold enough to run her hand on his definitely toned forearm, letting her finger wander up to his shoulder.

She saw the color of his eyes change from crystal blue to a darker shade, heard him take a breath in.

But Katniss was on a mission.

She leaned closer to him, her hand coming closer to his neck, her nimble fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

She could feel him tense under her touch, and lifted her eyes, to find his locked on her, as if he wanted to get lost in her. It took Katniss a few seconds to return to her task. With a movement of her wrist, she grabbed his accreditation cards, pulling them over his head before leaning back into her seat.

“That’s disappointing, actually. Your name is Mark ? Mark Mellark ?”

“Because your name is really Katniss?”

She put down his accreditations, took hers from around her neck, holding them out to him. He took them with a smirk before looking at the name written on them.

“Your name is really Katniss?”

“Yep. My mom’s Lily, my dad is Alon, and my sister is Primrose. You’re a bread family, we are a plant family.” She snatched the cards from his hands. “ You’re lucky you didn’t bet a thing, Mark Mellark.”

“Don’t call me Mark.” He grumbled, leaning back onto his chair.

“Well, then if you don’t want the world to call you Mark, you know what’s left to do, Mellark!”.

She casually put down his cards on the table, taking her time to lean back too.

“Oh? And that would be, Sensei ?”

“Easy, Grasshopper. Make sure you don’t get a medal.”

“That, Robin Hood, is not an option.”

The steadiness, the certainty of his voice made her shiver. Or maybe it was the wind, coming from large trees nearby. Surely the trees, she thought.

“I mean,” he started “ we all came here for a reason, and it’s not to give someone else our place on the podium. Plus with all the visibility we have this year, we have to give it our best, right?”

She nodded. That was what they had to do, what they had trained for, what they were in France for.

“Katniss?” Thom’s voice took her out of her memories.

“Sorry, I was lost in thoughts.”

“Look down, on the mat. The guy in blue? It’s Katø.”

“That’s a man? He looks like a mountain of muscles …”

“Well, he is a mountain of muscles … “ The referee interrupted Thom’s sentence with the start of the first period. “That won’t take long, he isn’t known for dancing around.”

Katniss watched as the blond man, so different from Peeta rushed into his opponent, pinning him on the mat in a few seconds.

“Told you. That lasted 25 seconds, he won’t be tired for the next round.” Thom said. “Peeta’s next.”

Katniss nodded searching the ground until she spotted him, wearing a red singlet.

“Why is he wearing red ? Blue is a better color for him.” She asked, her eyes trained on the now familiar figure walking towards the mat. Damn, these singlets left little to the imagination. To say they were fit-forming was the understatement of the year. She could see all the lines of Peeta’s muscles moving as he approached the fighting zone.

“Because he’ll be the first one called. It’s the rules.” She turned towards Thresh, who had the biggest smile on his face she’d ever seen him don.

“Why are you smiling?” She was wondering what had been so funny in her words.

“‘Blue is a better color for him’ - you sound like -”

“Be careful, Thresh. She shoots arrows…” Thom interrupted. “Now if you want to see Peeta wrestle, maybe you can look at the mat ?”

With a last threatening glance towards Thresh that was met with another huge smile and air kisses, Katniss turned towards the arena, noticing how different Peeta’s posture was from Katø’s.

“He’s going to tire the Georgian who isn’t as flexible as he is. And as soon as there will be an opening, he’ll go for it.” Thom explained, as she watched the complicated dance of joint locks, takedowns, and other things she had no idea what they were.

“This must be exhausting…” she whispered, as she saw Peeta finally going for the pin, immobilizing his opponent on the mat.

“Well, it’s not crochet that’s for sure!” Thresh chimed into her thoughts as the crowd applauded the winner of the match.

This was going to be a long day.

__________________

She needed to focus, now. Forget she was in the final of the Olympic Archery Tournament. Forget her dream was an arrow away. Forget she needed a nine to win the gold.

She had to remember the wind, how it came lightly from the right to the left, how she needed to bend the trajectory just a little. She had to calm her beating heart.

To forget Peeta was in the stands, watching. Katniss had cheered him on as he won his own gold medal two days ago, but now it was her moment.

She needed to forget.

The way he had chased her when she tried to make a quiet exit.

To forget how they had kissed.

Their own celebration.

She had to clear her mind of all this.

Forget. Focus.

A deep breath.

Visualizing the arrow hitting the center of the target.

The chronometer was ticking. Tick. Tock.

It was her last arrow. Her concurrents had already shot their own.

She needed a nine.

Only twelve seconds remain.

She rose her bow.

Eleven seconds.

Remembered her father’s proud look when she had won her first trophy.

She let the arrow fly.

She knew it would be a ten.

She had won the gold.

She fell to her knees, feeling the tears pooling in her eyes.

“I did it, Papa, I won … I hope you’re proud..”

The applause around her made her lift her head, then stand up, before she ran towards the stands, her bow still in hand, her eyes fixed on a figure that was coming down the stairs, towards her.

She felt his arms around her as he hugged her over the bleachers, felt his hands going to her face as he looked into her eyes.

“You remember to shoot straight, Grasshopper…” he whispered, for the two of them only.

“Yes, Sensei”, she replied before kissing him.

Click.

FIN

#thegirlfromoverthepond #567inpanem #prompt 90 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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betweenribbonsandrainbows · 4 years

Text

To @thegirlfromoverthepond Thank you for your beautiful stories full of poetry. I miss you here.

And Thank you @betweenribbonsandrainbows for this lovely idea.

Ribbons and Rainbows

#thegirlfromoverthepond #merciki #anon #love note #submission

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talesofpanem · 5 years

Text

Tattoo Fixers : Panem

Author: @thegirlfromoverthepond

Rating: T

Summary: Katniss needs someone to fix a bad tattoo.

AN: Deepest, deepest thanks to the amazing @xerxia31 who beta-ed this piece.

Even though I liked the prompt, it took me times to find the idea for this story - until I watched my TV, which prompted an episode of Tattoo Fixers - London. Maybe some of you from the EuroClub know about it ? Anyways, here is my take at this week’s prompt.

Hope you have fun.

_____________

She would be fascinated by the ballet of assistants running around the shop if she wasn’t embarrassed to be sitting there, being prepped by a team of make-up artists and a hairdresser.

Just looking at the people putting mascara on her eyebrows or trying to tame her hair was a spectacle in itself, with their tattoos poking out from under every bit of clothing, along with piercings or blue hair.

Katniss felt utterly out of place, waiting for her turn to appear on a television show she didn’t even want to go on. Alas, it was the only free way to fix something she had regretted since she had woken up after a particularly drunken night with her cousin Gale.

It was all Gale’s fault. It had been the day of her father’ funeral, the day after Gale buried his own. After the ceremony, after everyone had gone home, Gale had taken Katniss out. She hadn’t asked, just silently nodded when he had grabbed the keys of his father’s old pickup, heading out to their favorite spot in town, to get drunk.

In the hopes they could forget the void left by their fathers.

They had spent hours in that bar, drinking until they couldn’t drink anymore, until everything faded into blackness. The next morning, however, they’d woken up together in the bed of the pickup truck, each sporting the mother of all hangovers and a lovely souvenir of their evening

Apparently, they had somehow found their way to a tattoo parlor.

Since that night, Gale had sported a wonderful peacock on his biceps, which he still found funny all these years later.

Katniss wasn’t as lucky. She all but hated the cartoonish, badly drawn bow and arrow on the inside of her forearm. The only good thing about it was its size - tiny, so a wristband could cover it easily. She took to wearing one everyday. Solid. In leather.

Arrow. Her father’s name, had been inked forever on her arm. She would have loved it if she had been able to choose the drawing properly, instead of having been branded with a cupid-ike tattoo design.

Hence her presence on the set of Tattoo Fixers, a reality show where talented tattoo artists helped people cover up their tattoo disasters with gorgeous works of inked art.

Removing the tattoo was way too expensive for her bank account. But Prim had convinced her to share her story with all the whole country, risking the humiliation of being branded as a drunk crazy woman on cable TV.

Wonderful.

“Katniss? You’re on in five,” a young assistant told her, making the team of preppers buzz around her like there was a breach in a beehive. One man, Flavius she thought his name was, because why not, was complaining about the state of her nails, how chipped they were, how he couldn’t do miracles, how he couldn’t find time to fit in a manicure in the remaining five minutes.

“I’m a botanist. It would be destroyed by tomorrow anyway.” She shrugged the thought away, almost taking pleasure in the disgusted look on his face. Take that, Flavius.

When the assistant came back, all smiles and happy mood, Katniss followed her out of the parlor and onto the street. Just like any other participant, she would have to walk to the shop, entering as if she was a totally random client.

Bull.Shit.

The only random part was which tattoo artist she would choose. At least she would be surprised by their drawings.

This was staged TV, reality-TV. She usually couldn’t stand it.

She sighed, taking her place ion the street.

“Remember, start walking when the director shouts ‘Action!’”

Katniss resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

She started walking as casually as possible when she was told to, entering the shop as naturally as she could manage, trying to avoid laughing at the host’s attire of the day. Nobody ever bothered telling Caesar Flickerman that he might be colorblind. Today, he was mixing a flashy orange shirt with beautiful purple bermuda shorts. No doubt the episode would air in summer.

“Here is our next client!” Caesar sounded a little too enthusiastic at her entrance into the parlor. “What’s your name, darling?” He took her hand, helping her sit on the couch facing the one where the three tattoo artists were sitting.

She took a deep breath before answering, hoping her voice didn’t falter.

As she explained why she was there, Katniss took a good look at the three people in front of her, mentally thanking Prim for the briefing she’d given Katniss before she left that morning.

There was the woman, Jo, whose body was almost fully covered in tattoos and piercings. Only her face remained pristine, making her red hair stand out. She was sitting next to Finnick, who as the star tattooist of the program was sitting between his two colleagues. Finnick’s body was a work of art. Prim had swooned over it for much too long when she had briefed her sister, showing Katniss pictures of the man who appeared to live his life shirtless. Katniss had then been privy to the numerous tattoos that adorned his back, a chinese setting, dragon included.

She had seen several shots of him, of his so perfect body that made women of all ages swoon over him. Of course, Katniss was well aware of the dispatch of muscles, the Greek-god physique Finnick had, and fully expecting to be struck with lust as soon as she laid eyes on him in person. Yet nothing happened.

Nothing. At. All.

She was much more intrigued by the third tattooist, sitting next to Finnick. If Jo was a picture of the bad girl, Finnick the perfection, this third person was something else. He screamed “normal”, standing out from the two others, in Katniss’ opinion. Maybe it was because she couldn’t see a single tattoo on him, not even the required tribal band around his biceps.

There was something about his blue eyes, about his messy blond air that made her look at him more than the two others. Something that attracted her.

“This is Peeta, but we call him Peet. He’s the newcomer as Cato decided he needed a year off,” Finnick said and Peeta smiled. “So, how do you want us to cover the tattoo? Any specific request?”

“Well, nothing arrow-esque, or cupid-like. I’d like something that’s more inspired by nature,” she said. She just wanted the stupid bow and arrow to be covered.

Both Finnick and Jo grabbed their sketchbooks and started to draw. But she could feel Peeta’s eyes on her, lingering for a few seconds before he in turn, dived in.

“Well, tell us about you, Kathy?” Caesar said,making idle conversation to allow the tattooists time to finish their drawings.

“It’s Katniss, actually. Nothing thrilling, I’m a botanist and I live with my sister, Primrose.”

“Oh, that’s nice, she’s named for a flower!”

Katniss couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She knew this part would be cut because nobody really cared about the chit chat between a host and someone they would forget as soon as she left the office.

“Just like I am, it’s kind of a family tradition.”

“And you’re a florist! Isn’t it amazing.”

“I’m a botanist, but not far away.”

She was already over her talk with the host. A talk she was quite sure only lasted a few minutes, still felt like two long days.

“We’re ready, Kitty Kat. Here’s my drawing.” Jo handed over her sketchbook, on which a beautiful cat was displayed. With red fun, he would have been a striking copy of her sister’s cat, Buttercup, aka the bane of her existence. “You strike me as independent and very focused, hence, the cat.”

“It’s beautiful, Jo, thank you,” Katniss said, as she took in the beautiful shape of the cat’s ear, the detailed eyes. The woman had talent.

“I went for something more… natural,” Finnick said. “ I hope you like it!” He handed her his sketchbook, then leaned back on the couch, taking a sugarcube out of his pocket before popping it in his mouth.

On the page in front of her was a display of gorgeous intertwining orchid flowers.

“I can do them in different shades, like a watercolor painting, you know?” Finnick added, as Katniss stared in awe.

“It’s lovely, wow, I wasn’t expecting that, Finnick.” Between the two drawings, her choice was made. She wasn’t even sure Peeta would be able to compete.

“She’ll pick mine, guys, I’m ready to bet ten bucks!” Finnick lifted his arms in victory.

“It doesn’t have to be a big one, right?” Katniss asked, hoping his answer would be a no.

“It can be whatever you desire, sweetheart.” Finnick’s voice was sugary, and his green eyes sparkled as he winked at her.

Which made Katniss roll her eyes.

“Well, Finnick, this one’s immune to your charms.” Peeta’s voice, amused, chimed in. “Katniss, here is my take for your tattoo.”

She put down Finnick’s sketchbook to take Peeta’s. There were no words to describe her feelings when she looked down at the drawing on the paper. She had expected something somewhere between Jo and Finnick’s like an animal in nature, or just a drawing of a beach, absolutely not what she had before her eyes.

Peeta had drawn a wave.

A single, simple wave.

Yet, the closer she looked, the more details she could see. The wave was made entirely of flowers.

Primroses and katniss were braided together with such precision, with such attention, it was mesmerizing.

From two feet away the drawing looked like a wave.

But to her, for the closer her eyes got, it was a flower wall.

She opened her mouth to talk, to express how incredible she found the drawing.

No words came out.

She had to take a deep breath before gathering her thoughts before she was able to talk again.

“This. This is what I want.”

“Shall we go, then?” Peeta asked, rising from the couch.

She nodded her agreement before following him to the back.

She was glad the cameras didn’t filming the whole process. They were busy filming other segments with other “clients”.

“What prompted you to draw this? I mean I had no idea that was what I wanted until you showed me…” she asked.

“Your talk with Caesar. You told him you were a botanist, that it was a tradition to have flower names in your family. So I checked what Katniss was. It came up with sagit-something…”

“Sagittaria sagittifolia.,” she said under her breath.

He laughed, as he charged his machine with ink.

“Yes, that. You said you live with your sister, and I remembered you told us you got this awful thing after a funeral so I added one and one… You must have a pretty close relationship with your sister.”

“Yeah, we do …..” She was watching him come closer with his machine. She had a question, though. “How do I know you can tattoo? I mean, you don’t even have any of your own?”

“I do have one tattoo, but it’s hidden. I’m not as extrovert as Finn and Jo.”

“I noticed.. Could I see it ?”

“Well, it would involve you seeing me at least half naked… “

She blushed. “Oh, my, sorry…”

“No need to apologize. I did Finn’s dragon, and can show you pictures of previous works I’ve done, if you need references …. “

“It’s okay, I trust you.”

He smiled, a gentle, kind, warm smile at her words.

As soon as he started working on her forearm the cameras returned. He explained the steps he was taking, using the shape of the bow for the wave, the body of the arrow to line up the braids of flowers.

“It’s done. You can look.” His voice took her by surprise. She looked down, finding herself at a loss for words, again.

There was no way she would hide this one under a wristband.

After the mandatory shots for the TV, Peeta was wrapping her arm in cello, when he asked.

“I kinda won twenty bucks earlier, thanks to you. Want to share it with a tea?”

“No,” she answered. As his face fell, she added, “But I’d love a hot chocolate with whipped cream, if you know a place.”

He knew a place.

(Turned out he had a tree of life tattoo along his ribcage. She could spend hours tracing it with her fingers. Or her tongue.)

#tales of panem #talesofpanem #week 7 #wave #thegirlfromoverthepond #submission

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lartducrime · 4 years

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thegirlfromoverthepond replied to your photoset “s02e06 // s03e02 #you know they are endgame #when they use their...”

Il me faut des fanfics mais je n’en trouve pas !

nous avons deux petits ficlets dans nos archives: ici.

mais, si quelqu’un se dévoue pour en écrire une, je pense qu’on sera ravi de la partager sur notre site (et de la lire) 😄

#thegirlfromoverthepond #réponse

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xerxia31 · 5 years

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What friendship looks like

Only someone as sweet and selfless as @thegirlfromoverthepond would dedicate an entire random Thursday to filling my feed with all of the things I love best; tea, beautiful places, clever words and hot men (torses nu!).

Merci mon amie, pour ton amitié aujourd’hui et tous les jours!

#thegirlfromoverthepond

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jennagill · 5 years

Note

16 & 20 if you please 😊

hey flo! This message was seriously overlooked in my inbox, many apologies!

16 and 20 were answered in the Experienced Side of Tumblr ask meme!

Thanks lady!

#thegirlfromoverthepond #sorry this is so late!

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loveinpanem-blog · 6 years

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Morning paper

I remember a few years ago, I submitted a little thing full of tears and hurt for @loveinpanem’s VDay challenge.

Maybe because love is what keeps us going, keeps us moving forward, beyond the pain or the hurt, beyond the tears.

So once more, this is not a happy cheerful Valentine’s Day story.

But it’s one full of love.

The amazing @xerxia31 beta-ed this for me - and I can’t thank her enough for her input and precise comments :)

It’s just another day.

The daily paper is delivered by the neighbor’s kid.

Just like any other day.

She picks it up on the threshold of her wooden door, waving at the kid who’s cycling away.

She smiles as she watches the children passing by, the bigger ones holding their little brothers or sisters’ hands, and she remembers a time when going to school only meant learning about their districts.

A time when there were districts.

Five, ten, or fifteen years ago, maybe.

She doesn’t count anymore.

She watches the kids going to school, in a free country, a smile ghosting her lips.

She thinks of her grandchildren, remembering the pictures her son and daughter sent her yesterday. They were smiling.

Happy and free.

She enters her house, hearing the kettle whistle. She pours herself a tea, adds a spoon of honey because the doctor said it’s better than sugar for her diabetes.

She still has trouble believing there’s honey in her house. That she can have as much as she wants.

She brings her mug to the table, where the newspaper lays, waiting for her to start reading.

On the first page, she reads about the new discovery someone made. Something using the sun to make electricity.

She doesn’t understand everything, just that’s it’s much more clean than the coal they harvested in D12 back in the day.

So long ago.

She smiles as she reads about the new singing contest that will take place on the television - something called “Panem Idol”.

She freezes as she notices a small article.

A few lines, not long. Just enough to catch her attention.

A few words that make her heart clench.

“Yesterday was the first day of school for Charlotte Mellark. Our reporters weren’t allowed to take any pictures, but we can now report that the beautiful girl wore a red dress, her hair in two braids, and was followed by her parents, Katniss and Peeta Mellark. It also appears, from Mrs Mellark’s profile, that the family is expanding! Congratulations to the family!”

Her heart breaks, again, as she begins to sob.

Old wounds never really close.

Rue should be taking her children to school. They would have brilliant brown eyes, the same shade as their mother.

They would have had her joy. Her laugh. Rue would have taught them to whistle.

She would have cherished those grandchildren too.

The old woman starts crying.

For the children who died - too many of them.

For the children who lived - bearing the burden of being a victor.

For the war - that took away so many men and women.

For a little girl who wears a red dress and her hair in two braids.

For the parents of that girl, who almost lost everything.

For the losses.

For the peace.

For the love.

She cries for a few minutes, before she carefully cuts the article out of the paper. Another memento, to not forget.

One day, she’ll be strong enough to go and see them in the former District 12. One day, she’ll be strong enough to thank them for her freedom.

One day, she’ll be strong enough to tell her it wasn’t her fault Rue died.

One day.

Just not today.

#lip 2018 #vday 2018 #thegirlfromoverthepond #submission

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akai-echo · 6 years

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Capricorn/Birthday Moodboard

for my dear friend @thegirlfromoverthepond ♡

#Happy Birthday!#I put all the things that make me think of you #ballet #music #writing #cherry blossoms #teas #dandelions #happiness #strenght #beauty #Capricorn #thegirlfromoverthepond #my moodboards #Zodiac Signs #Capricorn Moodboard

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beautifulpaxiel · 6 years

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“100 this or that” ask meme

This is for @thegirlfromoverthepond, who tagged me. I realise I’m doing this a little over a week since you requested it, many apologies!

Right, here we go. *rubs hands together*

7. Chinese or Italian?

Hmm, this is a tough pick but I’m gonna have to go Italian. Can’t resist a good spaghetti dish!

28. Board games or video games?

Board games for sure! I don’t really get the opportunity to play much, though.

47. Cowboys or aliens?

Neither really, but if I had to choose, I’d pick aliens.

Thanks again for the ask, and apologies once again for being so late with replying. :-(

#thegirlfromoverthepond #ask meme #100 this or that #answered

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 3 years

Note

I just finished « unmasked” and WOW what a story !!! I loved it Thank you for writing such a good piece !!!

Merci! I’m so happy you enjoyed what was basically utter self indulgence on my part.

#thegirlfromoverthepond #look at that ask

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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Hurt

Written by:@thegirlfromoverthepond

Prompt 64: Katniss and Peeta are in a scary car accident - bring on the angst! With happy ending of course :) [submitted by anonymous]

Thank you @sunsetsrmydreams for pre reading this :)

Thank you @javistg and @xerxia31 for hosting this exchange

__________________________________________________

Hurt.

Everything hurts.

Everything burns. It hurts, it burns.

Can’t open my eyes

I am not strong enough

It’s too hard.

It hurts.

Why is there a white veil on my head?

Am I dead?

It hurts so much.

I am not dead.

I can hear.

Someone shouts.

Where is Peeta?

Peeta ?

He can’t be dead

if he’s dead, I’m dead too.

I can’t lose him.

Not after Dad.

Not after Prim.

I can’t.

I have to see him.

See him breathe!

I have to save him.

He saved me.

Move.

I need to move.

It’s so hard to open my eyes!

I can feel …

I feel something warm on my thigh. I can feel!

Sirens.

I hear Sirens. I want to hear him!

I have to open my eyes

Or I have to talk.

I have to know !

Why are my eyelids so heavy ?

Light hurts.

Everything hurts. everything burns.

Peeta.

I need Peeta.

Light hurts, but I will take the hurt.

There!

Peeta is here.

He’s hurt.

He doesn’t move

Sirens - They are near

Not near enough

Peeta can’t die.

Or I die too. I can’t lose him.

Not after Dad …

Not after Prim !

There’s something warm on my thigh.

It moves.

I have to look down.

I look down.

Sirens are coming.

They are near.

I can hold on.

As long as I feel his hand move.

He’s alive.

I’m alive.

We’ll survive.

#thegirlfromoverthepond #prompt 64 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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hutchhitched · 6 years

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What's YOUR favorite cheese ?

Omg, you know the answer to this. Goat cheese is the best. I love goat cheese. Plain goat cheese. Goat cheese with herbs. Goat cheese with fruit. Goat cheese with any flavor. I swear I ate 100 pounds of it when I was with you last summer. Take. Me. Back.

#thegirlfromoverthepond #get to know the blogger meme

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talesofpanem · 5 years

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At Work.

Author: @thegirlfromoverthepond

Rating: K+

No Trigger warning

Summary: The Harry Potter world meets the Hunger Games.

AN :My deepest thanks to @reachingforaspark for her help in betaing this little thing :)

(Depending on the reaction to this fic, I can be persuaded to expand it, and this universe. It’s all up to you, guys.)

__________

It was always the same thing when Harry Potter came to the Ministry of Magic.

Always.

Witches would rush to wherever he was going to be, whispering spells under their breaths or not to make their hair shinier or correct their make-up.

Wizards would find any reason to be in his way, to snap a picture with him, to proudly display such photo on Wizbook or InstaMagic for the world to see.

Katniss Everdeen only sighed at their behaviour. Of course she knew what Harry Potter had gone through to free the Wizarding World of Voldemort’s hold, all the sacrifices it had meant for him and his family, the losses, the pain, the desperation.

She was totally aware of all that, felt grateful for what he’d done, but couldn’t understand why witches would fan themselves at the mere sight of him, or would ramble for days because they thought he had looked at them.

The word had spread earlier that the Chosen One would be coming to the US Ministry of Magic around ten that morning, since then everyone was rushing around like bees in a beehive.

The only good thing was that there was much less people walking towards the Department of Muggle Arts towards where Katniss was heading.

She quickly checked her appearance in one of the windows that turned glass at her spell.

“You’re back again? Sure it’s for the art or for the art keeper?”

Katniss turned, scowling at the portrait of Sir Charles of Bethren that apparently couldn’t help commenting on her visits.

“I didn’t know there was a limited amount of time I could come around, Sir Charles.”

“There isn’t, young girl. You’re the one coming the most, though.”

“Well, maybe twice a month, that doesn’t make it a lot.”

“Twice a month? Well, perhaps you should start counting, my dear.”

With a wink, Sir Charles went back to the banquet in the background of the painting, yet his laugh remained.

“Damn paintings” she hissed, as she walked towards the door.

She liked this? room. Full of all kinds of Muggle things, from paintings of well known artists to things as mundane as a comb or even an old fishing boot. She liked walking around ?with these objects, the testament of a pre-witch life, when she didn’t know magic existed.

“Miss Everdeen!” A deep voice cuts into her thoughts, bringing her back into the old room.

“Good morning, Mr Mellark.” She answered, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to come to her lips.

NP There was something to this man that always felt … comforting. Even back in their days in Panem’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there was something to Peeta that made him likable.

She could remember their early days in the wizard’s school. Peeta was the third Mellark son to attend Panem, coming with the reputation of solid Quidditch player, of pranksters, of heartbreakers.

Peeta was different from the first day. He wasn’t cocky as his brothers, spent a lot of time in the library, excelled in their different subjects. He tried every year for the Quidditch team, never to be picked.

Most of all, he wasn’t sorted into Fortius House like all of his family before, going instead into Altius, sharing most of his lessons with Katniss and her fellow students of Fidelius. Katniss remembered him as a kind, helping and sharing boy, always there for everyone, always smiling.

Untilit was time to go home. The Mellarks only went home for the Summer holidays, always with a sad look on their faces, a contrast to the dozens of smiles from the rest of their classes.

Katniss still remembered how he had aced all the tests, earning Outstanding marks in both their OWLs and NEWTs, how he finished at the top of their year class every single time. Professor Icarus, their Defense Against the Dark Arts absolutely wanted Peeta to train as an Auror - he always declined. There was nothing he loved more than old books or paintings.

It wasn’t a surprise to Katniss that in the course of five years, Peeta Mellark became the youngest curator of the Department of Muggle Arts, turning it into a museum and a research center.

“Katniss, please, we were in class together. Call me Peeta.” He said.

“I know, but Mr Abernathy is adamant that I call you Mr Mellark…” She replied, as usual.

Peeta smiled as he took off his glasses to clean them, a gesture Katniss knew he did when he needed to think. How many times did she witness him doing so while at school or here at the Ministry?

Which prompted her to immediately wonder How long did I spend watching him clean his glasses exactly to be able to know he uses theis move as a way to think ?

Too long, apparently. What Katniss pretended not to notice was the amount of time she had spent watching Peeta Mellark, or being nearby Peeta Mellark.

Some days, she found herself daydreaming about a future that would never happen. How could someone like him be attracted to someone like her ?

Their relationship was based on work, and work alone. She just had to convince her brain of that.

“Then let’s do this, Katniss, when it’s the two of us, you’ll call me Peeta. If the old Haymitch is around, you’ll go with Mr Mellark. Would this work?” He asked.

She smiled her answer.“It could work, I think.”

(Turns out, he got used of her calling him Mr. Mellark in the dark of their bedroom too.)

#tales of panem #talesofpanem #make up week #week 10 #work #thegirlfromoverthepond #submission

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