#she and her mockingjays can never harm him again

[petriwriting]

Falling in love all over again. - Finnick Odair X Reader

Summary: Finnick is with you while you recover in District Thirteen.

A/N: Re-reading the hunger games series and I just love Finnick.. I couldn't resist. Feminine pronouns for reader. Takes place during mockingjay. Reader is rescued from the Capitol.

Angst! Fluff

Your shrieks haunted the halls of the District 13 hospital. Guttural, vile in nature. Finnick found himself rushing to the source of the sounds. while terrified, he pushed forward, disregarding the voices that shouted at him to stop, pushing past the security team that tried to stop his efforts. Finnick was strong, making it through the barricade of people without any serious casualties.

He emerged into the room where you had just woken up from sedation, and his heart ached immensely. The sight of you there, thrashing against your restraints. You looked drained of color, nutrients, and life. Emaciated and with a raspy, hoarse voice, you still shouted, convinced you were going to be tortured again. convinced that the doctors were going to hurt you, that the excruciating pain might never go away.

Finnick stopped himself; security had grabbed his arm and gently urged him to leave the room. The doctors were saying you would need time, which was something Finnick felt he did not have a lot left to spare. He choked, standing there watching you struggle. You hadn't even noticed him, until you did. Your eyes locked onto his.

For a moment you saw something comforting, something real in Finnick's eyes, but the capitol's torture methods took over you, the distorted images of him hurting you came back and your body recoiled. You shrieked louder, thrashing in your restraints, distressed. Finnick felt a piece of him breaking.

"Please, Sir," a strong voice urged.

"She needs space,"

He finally complied with Security's plead to get him to leave, not wanting to cause you any further harm. As they escorted him out of the hall, he choked out sobs, and the hot tears ran down his cheeks.

. . . .

Finnick found himself back by your room, unable to sleep. He had fallen asleep for a short time with his back leaning against the wall by the door, woken suddenly when a doctor had opened it and stepped out into the hall. Finnick quickly swept up onto his feet.

"How is she?" he asked, wanting to barge in there, to see you, hold you, and tell you it was okay. but he didn't want to cause you any distress. He was terrified for your recovery and worried everyday for you after seeing what they'd done to Peeta.

"She is stable." the doctor said, taking a short breathe. "We need you to be patient." he continued. "Recovery will have its ups and downs, and we will do everything we can..."

Finnick's heart raced. The doctor made it seem like you would never come back. "When can I see her?- Can I please just sit with her?" he asked. The doctor gave a sympathetic look.

"In a few hours, when she wakes again, we can allow you visitation."

Finnick nodded, he knew he had to wait, but he still longed for you.

"It's best if both of you are well rested when you visit, " the doctor said, offering a comforting hand to Finnick's shoulder and giving him a squeeze. "I'm staying here." Finnick insisted. The doctor gave a soft sigh. "Very well." he said, nodding at him.

Finnick sat with his back to the same wall by your door all night, softly dozing to sleep for a several hours when exhaustion overtook him.

In the morning, the hustle of the nurses and doctors woke him, and his eyes fluttered open softly. He rose back up to his feet quickly when he heard the faintest calling of his name.

"Finnick," you sounded rough, you had lost your voice almost entirely.

The door slid open, and he stood in the doorway. You came too, fully, your brain feeling unclear. you stared, now conscious looking at the figure. He was unarmed. That's the first thing you noticed. You looked at him in confusion as he cautiously and gently approached you.

He sat by your bedside and looked at you; his sea colored eyes were glazed over, filled with worry and fear. A strange feeling came over you. Finnick said your name so tenderly, so gently, barely above a whisper. Do I know him? did he hurt me? Is this real? you thought. He reached his hand out to set it on your own, but you pulled away and flinched as if he was going to strike you. Finnick pulled away quickly, the movement startling you more.

They had done unthinkable things to you, and it hurt him to know that they had distorted your image of him, that they had taken the sweetest, kindest person you loved and twisted them into some kind of monster. Your memory of Finnick was vague, plagued by images of violence that felt blurry. Deep down he knew that there had to be the same girl he fell in love with somewhere in there.

He took a step back, noticing your distress. "It's okay, you're safe." He said softly. "Who are you!" you spat, anxiety rising in your chest.

"I want to go home!" you shouted.

This alerted the attention of one of the nurses, who came over and administered some kind of medicine. The liquid quickly entered your system, and you dozed back off to being half awake, mumbling and uttering unintelligible words while the nurse checked your vitals.

The nurse turned to Finnick, apologizing.

. . . .

You can hear them coming. Mutts. They stamp onto the arena's grounds furiously, and you are out running them, just barely until they catch up with you are the group. First, they tear apart Peeta, Katniss' shrill cries haunt you, then they devour her, and you turn to see the rest of your friends being attacked by the mutated beasts.

You run, your feet carrying you far enough that you are in a small wooden shack, something that's safer than being out in the open. The beasts rack the walls, beating against the now locked door, as you notice Finnick emerge from the shadows. His eyes are different. he looks cold, sober, and menacing. He lets out a growl and lunges towards you, tackling you to the ground.

His hands hold you down, finding their way to your neck as they begin restricting your airway. His expression is void of emotions. His hands feel cool, and his calloused fingers force bruises on your skin. You struggle against him, begging for your life . . .

After one week of recovery, the nightmares begin to plague you. That was the first of many to come. You woke up with a gasp, desperately trashing and trying to save yourself, Once you realize where you are, you try to rationalize with yourself. You gasp, unable to catch your breath, feeling you neck as if you are hurt, and upon examining yourself, there are no bruises. It had to have been a dream.

Finnick appeared at your bedside, scared to touch you and agitate you more, "Hey, hey," he cooed, his voice was soothing. you felt conflicted, the man in your dreams had eyes devoid of color, and Finnick's were the color of the sea, remaining calm, concerned.

"It was just a dream, you're safe." He said softly.

"You," you managed to rasp out between hyperventilation.

"You tried to hurt me," you said, tears now spilling from your eyes.

"No, love, It was a bad dream. I would never lay a hand on you." he said gently, he was being patient. It was clear to you now that he did not intend to hurt you, because if we was going to he would have tried before the nurses came rushing in to check on your heart monitor that was making a raging beeping noise.

Finnick stood by your side, looking at you with worry.

"You're okay, just try to get some more rest." the nurse said. You nodded, exhaustion once again taking you as you rested your head back against the pillow. Whatever sedatives they had you taking were working well, lulling back into a slumber, hopefully this time without nightmares.

. . . .

After another week you hadn't been sleeping well now relying on the sedatives too heavily, with fear the images from the nightmares would take you out of reality again, each one more painful than the last.

Your eyes fluttered open, nothing too bad this time. The room was dimly lit, it had to be at least midnight. The halls were quiet, your restraints were still there, for your own good, the doctors had said the previous day. You attention was drawn to the gentle snoring of the man sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

You looked at him and a sickly familiar feeling came across your chest. There was something about watching his chest gently rising and falling in his uncomfortable-looking sleeping position that seemed unthreatening.

You gazed at him, a glimpse of a memory surfacing, you could remember him, you couldn't quite place where you were, but you were standing in water and the sensation of the cool lapping waves against your body somehow felt like home. It calmed you. He was there, you recognized him, a vague figure standing with you in the water. No strangulation, no weapons, just standing in the water in his arms. You couldn't tell if that was real or not, but it seemed happy, calming, the first decent memory you had in a long time.

After a while, you warmed up to his presence, watching him sleeping, you were far too weak to do much else. you still hadn't determined if the memory was real or not.

His eyes fluttered open, and he noticed you were awake.

"Hi sweetheart," he said sheepishly with a yawn.

"Did you get some sleep?" he asked you. you reluctantly shook your head. "I can't sleep," you said, your voice was low, still scratchy but a vast improvement from before.

"Do you want me to stay up with you?" he asked. you waited, hesitating for a long time, before nodding honestly. It was nice to have another person near you, even if you weren't entirely sure who they were, you were beginning to see him as a non threat. baby steps.

After another bout of silence, your voice carried across the quiet room. "I can't tell what's real anymore," you confessed. Finnick frowned. "You don't have to right now," he said. "All you should know right now is that you're safe, and I'm here." he said. you felt comforted.

The two of you stayed up for a while, and he stayed up to watch over you as you stared at the ceiling for a while, contemplating everything, before finally feeling relaxed enough to rest again.

. . . .

After that night, you felt more comfortable, and would sometimes laugh at a small joke Finnick would make. You had even warmed up enough to allow him to sit closer to you, and after several weeks, you allowed him to hold your hand. His felt soft and warm, nothing like the memory of his hands you weren't sure you could trust.

One month of treatment and therapy and conditioning. you were starting to feel somewhat like your old self. Somewhat normal, despite your questioning of your own memory. The doctors had helped you work out ways of differentiating your memories from what was real. It was tough. It felt like a daily battle. But at least now you had someone to tell you what was real, and what was not.

Your eyes fluttered open that morning to see Finnick in the chair in by your bed, flipping through the pages of some novel he had found, pretending to read the page, skimming the words but not really reading them. He noticed your gaze and smiled softly.

"Good morning, love." he said in a quiet voice.

"Hi." you said.

Finnick just stared, admiring your beauty, yearning to have you back. He was beyond thankful you were alive and here with him, so now he focusses all his energy on your recovery.

You were lost in your thoughts for a long while. The memory of the two of you in the water kept resurfacing. Bits and pieces came back to you as time passed, now you were able to form a somewhat coherent image.

you were in his arms, on the beach, back home, in District 4. He held you while humming a gentle song in your ear, the waves pushing and pulling against your bodies, gently complementing Finnick's melody. The safe feeling warmed your whole body, and you felt a love surround you. The gentle sea breeze combing through your hair, the smell of the sea flooding your senses...

"Can I ask you a question?" you spoke suddenly. Finnick leaned forward in his chair. "Of course," he said honestly.

"I think," you said, still unsure of the memories.

"I think you loved me."

the words hung in the air softly and fell upon Finnick like a melody.

"That's not quite right," he said. you gazed at him in confusion. "I Love you. still, always," he said. "No matter what happens." he smiled at you, wanting to cry.

"I love you," Finnick said softly, brushing a piece of hair from your face. "That is real." he said. you nodded, this time initiating contact and placing your hand over his. There was a mutual understanding that day.

"Everything is so fuzzy," you begin.

"But I remember being in the sea with you, back home, I think."

Finnick nodded. "Is that real?" you asked him, gazing into his eyes, the same ones from the memory that brought you comfort now, even if you couldn't remember much else or any other context. It came back in fragmented parts. "Yes," Finnick said without hesitation. "I remember it too."

"That was the first time I realized I was in love with you." he said. you took his word for it, why would he lie? "We had just met up when I had come home from the games; we were so young." He continued on, as you listened to his story, eager like a child to hear more.

"You told me you were scared that you'd never see me again, and you were happy I was home." You smiled softly, tears filling your eyes, flooding with a warming, loving feeling. "And I said to you," he stopped himself, smiling softly, tears gently falling from his cheeks. he hesitated, but your memory became a brighter beacon now, and you finished his sentence for him.

"I'll always come home to you."

The words caused Finnick to sob. he nodded, taking your hand and gently caressing your bony hands with his fingers.

"I'm so sorry they took you." he said with a bit of guilt.

"It's not your fault," you whispered gently.

"I thought the Capitol had taken you from me. I almost lost hope." He confessed. you stayed quiet for a moment.

"Finn?" you uttered softly; his heart fluttered when you said his nickname. "Yes, love," he exhaled, wiping his tears away.

"Will you hold me?"

and with that, Finnick situated himself on the bed next to you, close enough he could hear your heartbeat. You laid your head on his chest, that warm feeling flooding over you again. You finally felt safety, comfort and content. You realized you had all you needed.

[writersblockiskillingme]

delete this if you find it weird or confusing 🙏

But headcanons of what snow (old) would act like if he saw the granddaughter of his first love that he betrayed or something , like she looks exactly like her and she’s been chosen for the games

Reminder of His First Love | Coriolanus Snow Headcanons

Warning/s: Old!Snow, mentions of death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: OMG THIS IS AMAZINGG!! I really tried and I truly hope that I did this justice it deserves and I'm sorry if this is not what you had on mind. Enjoy!

So you're a granddaughter of one and only songbird, Lucy Gray Baird.

After she escaped form Snows clutches, she made it look like she was dead just so he could leave her alone forever.

Her heart broke from his betrayal.

She moved to the furthest part of the District 12 once she returned back home.

She tried to live her life to the fullest after everything that happened.

Later on she married a nice man from her District and they had a son.

She sadly passed away not long after.

However, her spirit lived on and passed itself upon her dear granddaughter who she sadly never met.

She would've been proud if she knew you.

Your father always told you that you were your grandmother's clone.

And boy was that true.

Your face, your hair, your voice, the way you carried yourself... everything was just like Lucy Gray.

Your mom always used to joke that she was reincarnated in came back as you.

And just like your grandmother, you got picked for the Hunger Games as a female tribute from District 12.

President Snow was sipping on his tea as he watched the reaping ceremony and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment once he saw you in a colorful dress as you stepped up.

He tried to not think of Lucy Gray Baird for a long time, now imagine his shock when she stepped onto that stage once again.

Once the interviews came and you were interviewed by Caesar Flickerman a usual question came up.

"What is your talent?"

You stopped to think for a moment and answered without hesitation.

"I can sing." You smiled at him and then looked at the crowd. "I know that it may not help me much in the arena, but I'm really good at it."

Snow thought that you proved that, alright.

You formed alias whith Foxface in the arena.

As she died you held her in your arms as you sang her to sleep.

"No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..."

Snow was frozen in his seat.

During the games, he found it hard to watch them somehow.

It was perfectly clear that Lucy Gray came back to haunt him and destroy him.

And boy did she do exactly that.

He never would have thought that Lucy Gray's daughter would become the leader of the rebellion.

He should've explained it, though.

The rebells won and you were supposed to be the one to execute Snow.

The words that you told him once you met up with him before his execution echoed in his mind until the moment he died.

"I am absolutely repulsed by you."

With that, Lucy Gray's clone left him speechless.

He couldn't believe that after all those years she still affected him.

But you now what they say, you never forget your firsts.

Pretty soon he was tied up against the pole as you stood a few feet away from him.

"You're as pure as the driven snow." You mocked him before you let the arrow fly, ripping through the air.

It seems like Lucy Gray's mockingjays did harm him after all.

->

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TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[kilesplaysthings]

Safe and Sound

~A bit of a song fic I guess? When I thought of this song, these series of events between young Caleb and MC popped into my head :) might be a little shaky in terms of the actual game lore, but this is going mainly by Caleb's myth, bond story, and the memories of their childhood together that you get from his cards.

Caleb kinda reminds me of Peeta from the third Hunger Games book Mockingjay, and the bond between he and MC kinda remind me of Peeta and Katniss, a little bit from Catching Fire and a lot from Mockingjay and afterwards.

Slight warnings: mentions of harm to children and use of force on a child, child experimentation

You can also read this here.

Caleb was always there for her no matter what, and when she was scared, he would sing to her.

I remember tears streaming down your face when I said, ‘I’ll never let you go,’

When all those shadows almost killed your light.

I remember you said, ‘don’t leave me here alone.’

But all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight…

She was crying again. The boy could see her, looking up into the orphanage’s window from below, outside in the backyard. She was huddled in a bed, crying into her little hands. Even from where he was standing, his sharp eyes noticed the bruises and bandages on her thin arms.

The boy took a deep breath and leaped up into a tall tree that stood beside the girl’s window. Stretching his thin arms out, he reached for the branches above him and pulled himself up with shaky, bony hands. Panting, he reached the highest branch next to the window and tapped on the glass. The little girl spun around, eyes widening at the sight of him. He smiled and waved. Scrubbing tears and snot away, she shyly waved back.

The window was locked, but that didn’t stop the boy. Lifting one finger, they could hear the locks snap open, and the window slowly slid upwards. The girl stared at him in awe as he climbed inside.

“Hello,” she said quietly.

“Hi!” He replied with a smile. “Are you okay? You were crying.”

She sniffled and looked down at the blankets. She didn’t answer him at first, but after a minute, he could hear her say, “I had a bad dream…”

He gently tapped her head for her to look back up at him.

“Hey! Watch this!”

He sat down on the bed and pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper from a pocket on his grey pants. The girl watched as he folded the paper to make a little plane. Once finished, he handed it to her.

“Throw it!”

She blinked at looked at the paper for a moment. Then, after glancing at him, she did as he said. As the paper plane glided in the air, the boy once again lifted his finger. Before it fell to the ground, the plane rose up and began to drift around the room.

“Wow!” She stared at the plane with big eyes and watched in awe as it flew around. With a grin, the boy made the plane plummet and then shoot upwards again. It spun in circles and flew in loops. He made plane noises as it zoomed past their heads and spun around the room. The girl laughed in delight, clapping her hands as she watched it. The plane’s journey came to an end as he made it land on top of her small head. Giggling, she held it in her hands and smiled at him.

The boy smiled back and patted her head.

“I’m glad you’re smiling now.”

“That was so cool!” She exclaimed. She began to hand the paper plane back to him, but he shook his head.

“You can keep it,” he told her. “Hold onto it for me and maybe we can fly it outside next time!”

“Thank you!” She cradled the plane in her hands and sat back in the bed. Her knobby knees came up to her chest, revealing thin legs that were battered and bruised. The boy continued to smile at her, hoping that the chance to play with her outside would be sometime soon, when she was feeling better…

...

Rain was coming down in torrents the night the boy crept down the halls of the orphanage. The grown-ups had taken the girl away again, right after lunch time. He had watched helplessly as they took her by the hand and dragged her out, despite her protests. She had been with them all day and it was only now, late at night, that he saw them carrying her back to her room. He had been lurking around all evening, in the corridors and other little hiding places he’d found in the old building, keeping watch for when she would be brought back.

Her door wasn’t locked, so with a twist of his wrist, he made the doorknob turn and the door slowly opened. As he quietly walked inside, the room lit up as lightning flashed, the beginning of a thunderstorm. In that moment, he could see the girl’s frightened face and wide eyes.

“Who are you?”

He gave her a gentle smile and slowly approached the bed. “I’m a friend! I live here too, along with a bunch of other kids like us!”

Thunder boomed at that moment, and she began to shiver.

“Are you scared?” The boy asked softly.

She nodded. She was about to say something when the thunder crashed again. She whimpered and covered her ears.

He took a deep breath and climbed onto the bed with her. He reached out and gently stroked her head.

“It’s okay, there’s no need to be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She eyed him warily. “Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise!”

As the thunderstorm continued, the boy continued to rub the girl’s head in an attempt to comfort her. She then reached out to hold his hand.

“Don’t go… Please,” she whispered. She didn’t want to be alone.

“I won’t,” he promised. He crawled over to sit next to her.

“I should’ve brought more paper to make another plane,” he said.

“Plane?” The girl asked.

He glanced at her. “You don’t remember it?”

She shook her head.

“Well, that’s ok. I’ll make you another one later.” He glanced out the window and watched the lightning for a minute.

“Oh, I know! How about I sing for you?” He suddenly suggested.

She gazed up at him. “Sing?”

“I saw it in a book. Mamas sing to their babies to help them sleep.”

She frowned. “I’m not a baby.”

He laughed a little. “I know, I know. But it might help you not be scared.”

She was quiet for a minute. Then he felt her nod against his shoulder. “Ok.”

He knew one song. He’d heard it when he’d tried sneaking out of the orphanage one day. Before he was caught, he’d heard someone singing a gentle little song from their window. He could still vaguely remember the words and how pretty he thought the melody was.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down.

You’ll be all right. No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light, you and I’ll be safe and sound…

He couldn’t remember the other lyrics very well, so he hummed the tune to her. He soon glanced down to see the girl had fallen asleep. With a smile, he closed his eyes to try and get some sleep as well.

“Ugh. You again. How do you keep getting in here?”

“Come on, get up!”

Two wardens in white clothing entered the girl’s room to find the two children sleeping on the bed, holding hands. Frightened awake by the men’s loud voices and the harsh ceiling light being turned on, the girl began to cry. The sound of her cries immediately woke the boy up and he jumped away from the men, trying to dodge their hands that reached for him. He lifted his hands as if to do something, but before he could, one of the men pressed a button on a device and bolts of electricity from a collar around his neck shocked the boy until he began seizing. He fell off the bed and writhed on the floor in pain. The girl’s cries turned into screams as she watched the boy shaking there, powerless to do anything. Twitching and frothing at the mouth, the boy was unable to defend himself and he was hauled up from the floor by his arms. He caught a glimpse of the sobbing girl as he was dragged away from the room. She was reaching for him, but his body was limp and numb; he could not reach out in return.

...

“You shouldn’t keep coming here. You’ll get in trouble again.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but smile happily. She remembers me today!

He ruffled her hair fondly and then flopped down on his stomach, looking up at her.

“But I like it here and I sleep better when I’m not alone. Don’t you?”

The girl gripped her blanket and nodded reluctantly.

“Then don’t worry about it!” He beamed up at her with a cheerful, carefree grin, despite the cut lip and black eye that marred his face.

“Oh! I sneaked this in for you!” She suddenly said. Reaching under her pillow, she pulled out a shiny, red apple.

The boy’s eyes widened. He felt his mouth begin to water.

“For me?”

She smiled and held it out to him. “I noticed you like these a lot.”

“Gee thanks!” Excited, he propped himself up on his elbows and took a big bite of the fruit. Juice began dribbling down his chin as he chewed.

“Mmm! Here, try it! It’s so sweet!”

Handing the apple to her, the boy watched as she took a small bite. Her eyes lit up in delight.

“It’s so yummy!”

The warm, summer breeze stirred the plain, white curtain at the open window while the two children shared a small respite of peace together, both savoring their small piece of contraband between them.

“Will you stay with me?” She asked him as the sun began to set.

“Yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what if they catch you again?” She asked nervously.

He smiled at her. “Then I’ll run and hide. But I’ll come back.”

...

Don’t you dare look out your window.

Darling, everything’s on fire.

The war outside our door keeps raging on.

Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music’s gone…

“Hurry, Josephine. The alarms won’t be down for much longer.”

“I know. I have the girl. I’m right behind you.”

The hushed voices of two people in lab coats echoed down the silent stone hallway of the darkened laboratory which was hidden in the bottom floor of the orphanage. One of them, a woman, cradled a young unconscious girl in her arms.

“Almost there. The car’s right out back,” whispered her companion, a middle-aged man wearing glasses. They were nearing a metal door only visible by the red light of an emergency exit sign.

Suddenly the woman named Josephine froze. The man noticed and quickly turned around.

“What is it? We have to go!”

“I know! I just – my legs! I can’t move!”

The two slowly turned around and in the glow of the red light above them, they saw the silhouette of a child. There was a boy standing there, wearing the grey shirt and pants that all the orphans wore. He was holding his hand out and staring at them.

“Who is that?” the man hissed.

Josephine sighed. “It’s that one boy, #002. You know, the one with the gravity evol.”

The man’s eyes widened. “No wonder you can’t move.”

“What are you doing? Where are you taking her?” The boy asked.

“We’re taking her away; out of the orphanage. Please don’t stop us,” the man said quietly, trying to speak kindly to the boy. With an evol like that, he knew it would be better not to aggravate him.

“Why? So you can experiment on her some more? So you can kill her again?”

The two adults stared at him in shock. The boy was glaring at them, but his hand was shaking, and unshed tears were in his wide, violet eyes.

“What do we do?” The man whispered.

Josephine kept her eyes locked with the boy’s. She then narrowed her eyes, studying him for a minute.

“Let me go, boy, and I’ll take you with us.”

That surprised the other two.

“Huh?”

“Josephine, uh, what are you doing?”

She didn’t respond to her companion’s question. “I know full well how attached you are to her. I know how much you care about her; how much you’ve been trying to comfort her when she’s hurt and scared. Why else do you think you’ve been able to get so close to her lately?”

The boy’s lips quivered, as if he was trying not to cry.

“We’re taking her far away from here, where she can be safe and try to live a normal life. She could use a companion to protect her and help her adjust to life outside of the orphanage. How about it?”

The boy looked confused and lost. He bit his lip, eyes glistening.

“You let me go and come with us, you won’t ever have to see this place again. You also can try to live a normal life.”

“Josephine,” the man hissed, glancing around nervously, “we need to go now!”

She continued to watch the child closely.

“Decide now, child. If we’re caught here, who knows what will happen to us? You probably won’t ever see this girl again.”

“Josephine!” The man was getting more desperate by the second. They began to hear movement on the floors above them.

The boy gulped and took a deep breath. Then, he lowered his hand.

Josephine was able to move again and jerked her head towards the exit.

“Come on. We’re not waiting for you to have second thoughts.”

Still shaking, the boy quickly followed the adults, his bare feet slapping against the stone floor as he ran. Outside in the rainy night, a car waited for them. Its lights were off so as to not attract anyone’s attention. The four piled into the car and as soon as the doors were shut, it sped off into the night.

The boy could hardly believe it. He was out. She was out. They would never have to see that place again. They would never have to be experimented on again. He wouldn’t have to watch them take the girl away only to bring her back weak, dazed and confused, having forgotten everything over and over again. These adults had given them the key to their freedom. He watched the sleeping girl next to him and began to cry.

Josephine would end up adopting them together. She gave them their own names and told them to call her Grandma. And then, after moving around from place to place, she found a house in the suburbs for the three of them to settle down. They would be able to try and live normal lives, like she had told him.

“This is our new home!” She said brightly, holding the little girl by the hand as they stared up at the modest two-story house that also had an attic.

“It looks nice, doesn’t it?” The boy asked, smiling down at the girl.

She nodded and stared at him, a little confused.

“Who are you?” She asked.

Josephine watched the two children sadly. They had waited a few weeks to move into the house due to the girl’s health. Being away from the orphanage and the medications the scientists had kept her on, the child was continually struggling with memory loss. It would take a while before she would be able to function properly.

The boy continued to smile warmly and held the girl’s hand. “It’s ok if you’ve forgotten. I’m Caleb. I’ll always be by your side.”

...

They had followed him home. He could see them in their large group coming down the street towards the house he shared with Gran and the girl. A bunch of boys, wielding bats and sticks approached the house and stood there, staring into the windows. They soon caught sight of him.

“Come on out, you loser! Or we’ll break the windows!”

Caleb gritted his teeth. They had only moved onto this street a month or two ago, and already the local bullies were singling him out. They had tried confronting him on his way home from school. Being the new kid, he was fresh meat for these boys to harass. He had tried his best to ignore them, and this was the result.

If they get inside… Grandma Josephine wasn’t home. A note on the fridge told the two kids that she had to work an overnight shift today. He didn’t want to call her, and he didn’t want to bother with the police. They wouldn’t get there in any decent time anyway.

Caleb glanced upstairs. She was up there. Recently, she had taken to playing up in the attic. They’d had many a fun afternoon playing hide and seek up there and making pillow forts as their secret base. He took a deep breath and yanked the front door open. The boys saw him and jeered at him, waving their crude weapons.

“What, you actually got some balls on ya, jerk ass?” One of them shouted.

Caleb glared at them. “Give me one minute. Then I’ll take you all on.”

The boys laughed. “Gotta go ask your mommy for permission first?”

He ignored that and slammed the door shut. Then he ran upstairs to the attic. Sure enough, when he peeked inside, he saw the girl lying on her stomach, coloring and humming to herself. There was a boombox near her playing some of their favorite songs.

Taking a deep breath, Caleb slowly backed away from the door. Lifting his hand, the attic door slowly swung shut and with a flick of his finger, the lock on the doorknob turned, locking the door from the outside.

“Sorry, Pip-squeak,” he whispered, “but I won’t let them hurt you.”

He then dashed downstairs and out the front door, locking it behind him, ready to face his adversaries.

It was after nine pm by the time Caleb had finished with the bullies. In only a couple of hours, he had dominated the neighborhood from his street to the next five blocks over. His bloody, cut knuckles were the price of him marking his territory; a sign of him becoming the leader of the ragtag bunch of boys that had once paraded around town like they owned it.

His evol had come in handy. He’d used it to bring his attackers to their knees, forcing them into submission. And when they tried to gang up on him, he’d showed them with his fists that he didn’t have to rely on his evol alone. Caleb had always been a scrapper, and those local boys had learned the hard way not to mess with him. His power and sheer grit had earned the respect, admiration and – admittedly - fear of the boys in no time.

Thunder began to rumble as he roamed the streets with his new group of followers. As rain began coming down and a streak of lightning tore through the sky, he suddenly froze.

The boys noticed. “What’s up, man?”

“Anybody got the time?” He asked.

One kid pulled out his phone. “It’s 9:45.”

Caleb’s stomach dropped as if he was on a fast roller coaster.

“I gotta get back!”

“Aw c’mon! It’s still early! Thought you said you didn’t have a curfew?”

“I’m going home. Now.”

His voice and the look in his eyes brooked no argument. The other boys knew to back off.

“Okay, okay. We’ll see you around, Caleb!”

He hardly heard them, already sprinting back to the house. Thunder boomed and lighting flashed as he ran through the rain. He flicked his wrist to unlock the front door before bursting inside. Slamming the door behind him, he flew up the stairs – two at a time – until he reached the attic. He did the same move with the attic door and threw it open.

“Hey! You okay?”

The attic was dark, save for one small lamp that dimly lit up the area where their makeshift fort of pillows and sheets were. The boombox was silent and the only thing that could be heard was the thunder echoing against the wooden walls.

The girl was no longer lying on the rug. When Caleb called out to her again, he caught a glimpse of a light coming from inside their fort. It was a small orb, like from a flashlight. He could also hear her, sniffling and quietly sobbing.

The boy felt like his heart was breaking. Guilt tore through him. He’d left her all alone in this dark room, where the thunder boomed and lightning crashed against the glass windows in the ceiling. What was worse, he’d nearly forgotten he’d left her up there, too caught up in fighting to remember to come home before dark.

Biting his lip until he tasted blood, he took a deep breath and crawled into the fort. He could see the small light shining from under a lump of blankets. No doubt she was clutching the flashlight so she wouldn’t be in total darkness. He sat down in front of the figure and slowly pulled the blankets away.

“Hey, Pip-squeak,” he whispered.

Her head popped up. Eyes red from crying widened at the sight of him.

“Caleb!” She tossed the flashlight aside and wrapped her arms around him, clutching his t-shirt.

“The attic was locked! I couldn’t get out! I was so scared!” She wailed.

“I know. I ran home as soon as I could. I’m so sorry, Pip-squeak.” He felt his throat tighten and held her close. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

She hiccupped a little, gasping between sobs. “The thunder is so loud!”

“I know. Let’s get out of here, okay?”

She nodded and clutched his hand as they crawled out of the fort. As soon as they were on their feet, she clung to him once more and wouldn’t let go. The thunder roared again and he could feel her shaking.

Caleb shut his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. He then reached down to scoop the girl up by the back of her knees. Using his evol on her, she now weighed very little and he was able to carry her as one would carry a toddler, her legs around his mid-section and her arms around his neck. She rested her head on his shoulder, her sobs dying down as he carried her downstairs.

“You tired?” He asked. She nodded.

“Then let’s get ready for bed, ok?”

Teeth were brushed and he helped her change into her pajamas.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded. She was still scared of the storm that raged on.

“I won’t,” he promised.

She latched onto him under the covers of her bed. It was like before, when they were in the orphanage. She might not remember it, but Caleb could and he was reminded of the one lullaby he would sing to her in that small, sparse room.

“Want me to sing to you?” He asked.

She glanced up at him and nodded.

So he did.

Just close your eyes.

You’ll be all right.

Come morning light,

You and I will be safe and sound…

...

Fifteen years later.

Another nightmare plagued her dreams. She found herself waking up screaming in the middle of the night. She kept dreaming about the same things: the explosion; Caleb being strapped down and tortured, his screams echoing as his life was sapped away; him writhing in pain as electric shocks destroyed his body.

She sat up in bed, shaking and sweating. She stared around the room, as if lost. Soon enough, though, she recognized the plushies littering the edge of her bed, the large electronic clock on her nightstand that showed it was three in the morning, and the photos she and Caleb had taken framed on her desk and on her bookshelves. She was in her bedroom. In her apartment. In Linkon city.

Footsteps were heard running to her door and it swung open. Caleb was there at her bedside. She could see the concern on his face from the light of her clock.

“I’m ok. It was just a nightmare,” she told him as she tried to catch her breath. “Sorry for waking you.”

“No, no. You don’t need to apologize. I get them too.”

They looked at one another for a minute or two before he turned to go back to his bed on her couch.

“Good night.”

“Caleb!” She didn’t hesitate to call to him.

He turned around, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

She took a shuddering breath. “Will you stay with me?”

He smiled softly in response. “Of course.”

She slid over to give him room on the bed. Once he was comfortable, she nestled up to him. It was just like all those years ago, back at the orphanage and then back at their childhood home when they lived with Grandma.

“If you still can’t sleep, want me to sing to you, like when we were kids?”

She smiled a little. “I dunno. Your singing was never the greatest…”

He scoffed, pretending to be offended. “You just don’t have good taste.”

“Yeah sure, you tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

He laughed a little. “I can sing that old song. The one you liked.”

She could remember the one he was referring to. It was a sweet little song, and when Caleb sang it, it always soothed her. She rested her head on his chest where she could feel the steady beat of his heart that assured her that he was very much alive.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

Just close your eyes. The sun is going down.

You’ll be all right. No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light, you and I will be safe and sound…

And just like that - despite his not-so-perfect singing voice - when Caleb finished and looked down at her, he saw she was fast asleep.

Just like always, he thought amusedly. He kissed the top of her head and exhaled slowly. He could feel his own body calming down, sleep beginning to take hold.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered.

[rejewish]

Ok while I’ve never been into reading fanfic that much I am the first to admit my brain is constantly pumping out my own personal fanfics, headcanons, and au scenarios. And here’s just a couple of my personal faves to think about a lot:

1. Ok starting out with a fucked up one a bit but it really is what makes sense to me. Johanna mason is 100% a lesbian in my mind and had a girlfriend who was killed after her games, District 7 lumber names I like to think her name was something like Willow. Based on TBOSAS I don’t think Snow was homophobic but SOTR confirmed that the general attitude in Panem at least by the time of Sunrise was homophobic, including that being in a gay relationship could cost you your job or be potentially illegal. It helps to control a population in a fascist society to have rules like this so it makes a lot of sense to me for Snow to implement laws like that despite not actually agreeing with it. As fucked up as it is I feel like Snow likely specifically tried to prostitute Johanna out to men more as a greater humiliation to her just because he was so cruel and wanted to punish the victors as much as possible to keep them under submission. But silver lining after Mockingjay I hope Johanna can get clean and find love again and be allowed to love openly with her new girl.

2. I like to imagine an AU where Peeta was still taken by Snow and tortured but wasn’t specifically hijacked and when they rescued him Katniss refuses to leave his side for days or weeks no matter what. She sleeps in his hospital bed with him despite being repeatedly yelled at not to by the doctors and she refuses to attend to her schedule unless Peeta can come with her to everything. This really really pisses of Coin as its frivolous and stupid to her and really really pisses off Gale because Katniss pretty much realizes at this point she doesn’t need or want him at all and the two of them fully have a falling out. Katniss tells Peeta that she loves him for real for the first time like the second they’re reunited.

3. When Katniss and Peeta get married finally, they invite a handful of people from outside 12, like Katniss’s mom (obviously), Johanna (and my headcannon new girlfriend of hers), Annie and her son. It’s the first time Katniss’s mom comes back to 12 after the war and she starts to visit a few times a year after that and probably reforms a friendship with Haymitch.

4. I view Katniss and Peeta growing back together post war to be a parallel in a way of how their relationship started, with Peeta loving Katniss but her not being sure her feelings, but this time Katniss knows how in love with Peeta she is but he’s confused on his feelings. I think this leads everything to be very slow at first, with Katniss not wanting to push Peeta back into anything if he doesn’t feel the same. I think once Peeta finally understands and is fully in love with Katniss again everything progresses very fast from there because Katniss has been waiting forever for Peeta to want her back, and Peeta finally recognizes again that he’s been wanting her for forever as well.

5. Related to the last point in a way. I fully believe Peeta had a crush but was not in love with Katniss until the cave, where he falls for her more organically instead of just infatuation. And Katniss has a crush on Peeta before the games and doesn’t realize it, and she grows to love him but is not IN LOVE with him during their first games. During the victory tour is when I imagine Katniss actually falls for Peeta but of course doesn’t realize it. I think Peeta realizes she’s fallen for him though but again, is a gentleman and won’t pressure her to admit her feelings. During the Quell I think he finally lets himself slip up more and try to get her to admit it a bit more, thinking he will be dead soon anyways so what’s the harm in the comments like wanting to spend all his remaining moments with her and kissing her goodbye before they get on the hovercraft to go to the arena. Them making out on the beach is likely confirmation to Peeta that he was right and he probably held onto that memory as much as he could while he was being tortured before they finally cracked him in his hijacking.

Ok I think that’s all I want to write for now but anyways those are my opinions don’t know if anyone has similar ones or likes my little ideas!

[danisbrainrot]

could you write some katniss x fem!reader hcs?

basically its just after the 74th hunger games. the reader and katniss arent dating but there is some tension between them: they flirt a LOT and are often rlly close to kissing(but they never actually kiss). i think the reason why they are not a couple is because of peeta. katniss and him are in a fake relationship so if she wanted to be with the reader it would have to be a secret.

skip if you don’t want ofc🩷

how could I say no to katniss? also, this is just for after the hunger games and also a bit of the victory tour. if you want me to do hcs during and/or after mockingjay, I'd be more than happy to!!

katniss is terrible at knowing how she feels about people. in fact, she didn't realise that she saw you as a friend until you met up with her after she'd been reaped and hugged her, begging her to win. it warmed her heart, honestly.

when she came home after winning, you rushed up to hug her. even though you couldn't help but feel jealous, you didn't mind her "relationship" with peeta, you were just glad that she was home and back to you.

you'd always visit her at the victors village after that. she'd always have fresh bread waiting for you, courtesy of peeta, of course. you'd sit down and eat in silence together, katniss had never really spoken while eating before, so this isn't something new. you two would just enjoy the lunch you shared, knowing that neither of you had been able to eat this way before.

obviously, you are her best kept secret from snow. he knows you exist, of course, but he saw you as just a friend. once again, because katniss is horrible at working out her feelings, she definitely didn't know how much she liked you. however, subconsciously it showed. always hiding you away when peacekeepers or cameras came, walking you home before curfew, trying to distance herself from you in public so snow wouldn't find out how she truly felt about you.

banter with katniss in the kitchen when there's no one else around would be ELITE. or if you want to be her hunting partner instead of gale, your banter when hunting in the woods would be top tier. anyone else watching would honestly think you're flirting (and you two probably are) you just think that she's dating peeta and she's horrendous at admitting her true feelings, so the two of you think it's normal, friendly banter.

mrs everdeen and prim LOVE you. you'd come around all the time and hang out, seeming interested in their healing abilities. (you even let prim practice certain remedies and treatments on you). you could talk with them for hours, which makes katniss slowly realise how much she loves and needs you. again, if you're her hunting partner, you've promised to protect her family with your life—and you mean it. prim and mrs everdeen are like a family to you as well.

when snow comes around (grrr) to warn katniss about not buying her love story with peeta, her thoughts immediately go to you. did he know about you? would he hurt you if she didn't convince him? she's so freaked out for you throughout the victory tour, you never leave her mind.

when she returns and sees you at the train station, the first thing she does is wrap her arms around you and squeeze you tightly. she holds your hand tightly and you both walk to her house, your mindless chatter calming her down slightly.

she needs you so much right now, just so she can keep you safe—out of harm's way. or more like out of snow's way. she needed to protect you, and the only way she knew how was to never take her eyes off you. she invites you to sleepover, because she needs your company and its scary knowing you could walk off and never return.

later that night, you just held her in your arms all night. she was snuggled against your chest and she felt safe and sound for the first time weeks. she's so grateful that you seem to ward off her nightmares that she can't wait for you to sleepover again. but she doesn't want to appear to needy, so she never asks again.

by this point, peeta's definitely worked out what's going on, so he secretly tries to help you two get together, because if she doesn't want him, then he at least wants her to be happy. sure, it hurt at first, but he's also just so glad she managed to get him out of the games alive, and he thinks your nice. (peeta could never be mean in my eyes, we ignore what happened to him in mockingjay).

bonus! because this low key feels depressing: haymitch, cinna and peeta definitely have a bet going on about how long it'll take for katniss to confess her feelings for you. so far, haymitch is winning.

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Hiii so I’ve been really into Coriolanus Snow lately 👀 and I was gonna ask if you could write a version of the end where Lucy Gray runs into the wilderness to leave Snow but Snow catches up to Lucy Gray and his possessiveness over her becomes worse after that moment. Maybe he incapacitates her to make sure she can never leave him again. Also I love love love your writing 🫶

Writing this makes me want to write more in first person, Coriolanus is absolutely off his rocker. I might continue it depending on it's reception!

A Bird in the Hand

Contains: blood, pure insanity, and physical harm

•••

I just shot Lucy Gray. 

My ears are ringing and it still isn't loud enough to drown out the mockingjays.

She stumbled here. I swear, I saw it. Venom sends pain all through my arm. Am I going to die? How could she do this to me?

“Lucy Gray!” I don't even realize I'm screaming her name. 

It's too early for katniss. The leaves are still wet, sticking to my hands and knees as I search for proof that…

I just shot Lucy Gray.

I hear her everywhere and nowhere. My beautiful songbird. You're hurt. 

Red on the ground, a splatter here and there. Leaves crushed in my hands. Spread on my gun. 

How many kills before I lose track?

“Lucy Gray!” My throat is sore and my heart is beating out of my chest. I scour the ground like a dog. Desperate. Feral. A scuff here, a stumble there.

The ringing gets louder. The birds are a cacophony of her. It's beautiful, it's maddening. Just like,

“Lucy Gray!” I scream as I chase her trail. Her blood is my lifeline. Why did she make me do this? 

Then, through the madness, 

“Corio…” 

A pained whisper, softer than wind through grass. There's a tangle of roots, a splatter of blood, and a torn piece of fabric.

My heart beats twice as fast as I race down the hill, sliding over soggy leaves, tangled thorns digging into my skin. The venom reached my heart and it's spreading everywhere, a wildfire in my veins.

There she is.

Spread about the fallen leaves—wavy black hair, bright dress now stained with blood, skin drained of its warm hue—a mosaic of macabre colors.

“LUCY GRAY!” My voice cracks as I race to her fallen form. She's so beautiful, my angel. 

Her eyelids flutter when I pull her into my arms. Fragile little bird. I brush her hair from her sweaty forehead and press my fingers against her neck. Her pulse is so faint, cold dread quenches the fire in my veins.

I search for the source of the blood. A hole in her calf, leaking still. Her dress is already torn, what's one more tear? I rip off a length of fabric and tie it beneath her knee.

“You can't leave me, Lucy Gray,” I whisper, cradling her close.

Her eyes flutter again and meet mine, hazed with pain. I don't hear her speak, but I feel her question sear into my brain. 

Why?

“Why? You know why, Lucy Gray. You always knew. You belong to me, but I don't belong out here with you. I never have. You know what I did to save you. I love you, why don't you love me enough to forgive me?”

She doesn't respond. Her eyes are vacant, staring up at the mockingjays that rain torment from above.

The venom in my veins is subsiding now, or perhaps integrating with my blood. I can still save us.

I rise from my knees, holding my beautiful Lucy Gray. 

If I can forgive her, surely she will forgive me. We have both hurt each other, but love conquers all—right?

Eventually I reach the cabin. I lay her on the bed, and press a kiss to her forehead. I need to find help, and I know she can't possibly leave me in this condition. It's ironic how, in this moment, I feel more secure in our love. 

If I didn't love her, I wouldn't have saved her. She needs to stop running from me. If she had only stayed where I could see her, I would have never needed to shoot her. 

A cool serenity washes over me as I look down at her weakened form. This is better for us, isn't it? She's so beautiful, she needs me so desperately. Yes, I need her to need me. 

I don't flinch as I approach her bedside. We need this, don't we? We need stability, and we can only have it if I can keep her safely under my control. And in order to do that, she has to stop leaving me.

I trace my hand down her bloodied leg, to her thin and fragile ankle. I can do this with my bare hands, can't I? Yes, it'll be easy. She's a bird, their tiny bones snap like twigs. 

One deep breath.

CRACK!

She doesn't even flinch. Her foot hangs at an unnatural angle.

Once more, for good measure. One hand on her heel, the other over the arch of her delicate foot. 

CRUNCH!

Her foot is mangled now, twisted, her tiny bones splintered like so many fragments of wood. 

A small smile flits over my lips. 

No one said love wasn't painful. 

[deepdonutkid]

Part 3/5 Katniss and Peeta’s roles reversed in Mockingjay

I kinda figured out everything I want to say about this whole situation and now I’m adding the part, where I eleborate on why I think:

Peeta is a bad-ass motherfucker

"you’re punishing him over and over for things that are out of his control. now, i’m not saying you shouldn’t have a fully loaded weapon next to you round the clock. but i think it’s time you flipped this little scenario around in your head. if you’d been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill peeta, is this the way he would be treating you?” demands Haymitch" (mj, 229) (thanks again @thesmileykate for searching that quote)

So, Peeta is in Katniss’ position in D13. He is approached by Coin to represent the rebels and the ongoing revolution, after learning his own district was bombed to pieces and his whole family is dead. Katniss is gone. He doesn’t trust Haymitch anymore. Finnick is a crying hot mess. Gale and him will never be friends. The house is literally on fire.

Of course, his biggest concern is going to be: saving Katniss. Just like she was so desperate to save him. But he is still not the type of guy to run around with a gun and killing randoms... he is just not like Gale. He was never a hunter, since he was in the Games, he knows: “Killing is always personal.”

Like even when he is put in that position, where he has to be this brave war hero, I can’t really wrap my head around this one. Yes, he can act, but I highly doubt his moral compass would allow it. Also, he is smart enough to play Coin and Plutarch. He would convince them, that they’re going to get a better result, if they let him do this his way.

His way would involve, getting a weapon of his choosing. And it’s not going to be a gun. Katniss already stated in the books, he doesn’t have a good aim like her. Yes, he managed to fight Cato in the first games, but that’s mid range at most, and that was only in the movies or assumptions.

Since Cinna already got everything ready for Katniss to become the Mockingjay, it’s raising the question... who would Peeta become? There are some posts about him either being a mockingbird or a jabberjay. (personally, I would tend to jabberjay, but maybe he would also get a totally different ‘nickname’ )

It’s safe to admit, since the main goal of the rebels in the third Quell was getting Katniss- that’s why every other Victor had to prove themselves to Katniss-, not Peeta, they wouldn’t as prepared for him as they were for her. So, he pretty much had free choice in how to present himself. Maybe he even got help from Portia.

Peeta would pick something he is familiar with, like a knife, probably longer than shorter. Something like a machete. And then I just got this idea... He already says in the books to Katniss, she and Haymitch are too similiar. Haymitch’s partner in the games was Maysilee Donner and she used a blow gun with poison. And if he views himself as the counterpart to Katniss, why not sticking with the analogy. With the blow gun he has a mid range weapon, which doesn’t have to be deadly. He would probably have some different darts, some of them deadly, some of them just have a strong soporifics or some paralysing effect, some might inflict pain. He might have need some training to get used to it, but he has shown to stick to his plan with some sort discipline.

This blow gun thing would also give him the opportunity to play by his own rules. Sure, D13 would hand him a gun, but he would only use it, when there is no other option to take.

But fight is not what makes Peeta Mellark a bad-ass motherfucker. It’s clearly his gift for words. And while Katniss is out of his reach in a harmful enviroment, Peeta is not just losing his mind... he is getting frustrated and impatient with those around him.

Snapping at those, who try to keep him from Katniss or try to argue with him, when she is back, about what she needs. He knows what she needs and it’s not to watch the Games again or some clips of him, because that’s not helping Katniss seeing who he really is. She met the real Peeta, but never with cameras around them.

And he knows by now, how important he is for the revolution. They need a figure to push their agenda through. Peeta is very aware of the effect the media has on people. And if someone can own that role, it’s Peeta. He is giving them a run for their money.

Just imagine his talk with Coin giving his requests. He would walk in there, with a complete list of demands (not like Katniss half empty piece of paper, but our girl never been the writer type) and oh boy, Coin better be prepared, because he is going to argue as long as he need to, until he gets what he wants. And yes, he even has some minor demands, he can drop to give Coin the feeling of control, when he clearly has the upper hand. Peeta is really going to make Coin wish, she got Katniss instead of him XD

“First things first... we need to get Katniss out of the Capitol.”, Peeta says. 

Coin shakes her hair slightly. The grey vail hovers over her shoulders. “That is not our highest priority at the moment. We have to focus on.-”

“On getting Katniss back!”, he interrupts her: “She is the Mockingjay! She is girl on fire! It’s her, can’t you see it? Her actions started the whole revolution.”

“The general assumption is the star-crossed lovers ignited the flames of revolution in the Districs. As long as we don’t control the Districts, the war will go on. I’m sure, you’ll understand this, soldier Mellark.”

A long sigh left Peeta’s lips. His muscles still ached from the arena, but he didn’t want to stay any longer in this damn hospital bed. There was this dire need in him, stronger than ever, just to hold her. Katniss. Maybe running his fingers through her dark hair, if she let him.

His eyes flickered. He was too tired to keep them open. So exhausted from yelling, he just muttered under his breath: “Wouldn’t it be weird? I’m mean, I’m not just her fiance, I also publicly announced, we already got married and are expecting a child. Wouldn’t it look bad, if my first mission wasn’t saving her?”

Plutarch nodded. “Yes, I guess, we can’t leave a pregnant girl in the hands of the Capitol.”

Little excerpt of some dialog that’s been in my head for a week now.

[theirmockingjay]

@snowalwayslandsontop ♥d the starter call and promised to be gentle which means kat be like (ง'̀-'́)ง once again.

‘He doesn't know they’ve done to twelve. If he could’ve seen what was on the ground—’

Sitting in the hovercraft she repeated her speech like a mantra, not believing her own luck. Or the other’s stupidity. So far her plan had worked. They believed her when she said they had to find a way to show Peeta how they turned his district to ashes. They were excited, even, about filming another propo, about getting her on board with the rebel propaganda.

They believed her lie.

“I’m going to my home to get some stuff for my mother”, she said after her filming was done, the sentence coming out a little stiff for her liking because after all, she had never been a good actress. Cressida was luckily focused on Gale’s next shot, so she just smiled at her and Katniss made her way to the Victor Village, where the most important part of her plan had to take place. Soon she found her house and rushed inside, anxious steps taking her upstairs to her room. The white flower was still there. Unnatural and beautiful.

Katniss did what she had planned from the moment her mind wrapped around her situation and she repeated her speech word by word, exactly as she had practiced countless times inside her head.

“I know you’re monitoring this place. I know you can see and hear me, President Snow. I need to speak to you.”

She repeated this sentence five times, like she had planned. It was a random number, but logically it should be enough time for someone to reach him and also to keep her rebel crew from suspecting she was doing anything else but grabbing stuff for the medical wing.

The next part of her speech wasn’t planned. She had the basic idea, but the words flowed like a river before she could control them.

“You don’t want Peeta. You never thought he had anything to do with this. You want me. I’m the one that pulled the berries. I’m the one that shot an arrow at your force field. I’m the one that the districts follow. I’m the spark you want to quench with your first, I’m the songbird you want to drown in your poison. It’s me they are waiting to see crumble, not him. I’m the one that you need. The one that you want. The mockingjay you can’t silence.”

With a deep breath, she spoke her next words almost in a whisper.

“And you can have it all. You can have me”, a pause, “Let Peeta go without harm and you can take me. Release Peeta, president Snow, and I’m yours”

All that was left was waiting. And she hated it.

[archivesberrygrad]

LIT-322: Final Project

Poems and Songbirds: A Look into Symbolism in Popular YA Titles of the 2000s

In literature, themes of love and power often play a significant role in shaping characters, plotlines, and inter-character relationships. Two novels that explore these themes in both similar and polarizing ways are Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs and The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins. In both stories, characters manipulate love, influence, and power in unusual ways, which is fundamental to how the plot grows. The relationships between characters and the symbols representing power (whether for protection or control) are central to each narrative. Each author uses literary devices, such as symbolism and poetry, to illustrate the interplay of love, control, and power in their stories. This essay will compare how these elements contribute to the popularity of young adult literature.

One of the key literary devices employed in both novels is symbolism, particularly through the recurring image of birds. In Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, birds symbolize protection. For instance, Miss Peregrine is represented by a peregrine falcon, embodying a guardian role when she transforms into the bird. She serves as a “mother bird” to the peculiar children, guiding and protecting them, especially Jacob, who she mentors. The bird symbolism reflects the protective nature of love, with Miss Peregrine using her powers to shield the children from harm. However, her role can also be interpreted as controlling, as she is an ymbryne (a guardian with special powers), tasked with overseeing their safety. Riggs also links birds to the concept of time, stating that “only birds can manipulate time” (Riggs 154). This grants birds the ability to control the time loops that protect characters like Jacob, giving them an enduring presence throughout the series protecting children with this control in the name of love.

In The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, birds are similarly symbolic, but they take on a different meaning. Lucy Gray, a central character, is strongly associated with songbirds, particularly the Mockingjay. The songbird represents her voice, which she uses to charm and control those around her, often singing her way out of perilous situations. In the novel's closing chapter, Snow reflects, “She could fly around District 12 all she liked, but she and her Mockingjay’s could never harm him again” (Collins 517). Snow believes he has been entranced and controlled by Lucy Gray’s voice, almost leading him down a path that would forsake his family name. Her songs and ballads continue to haunt him, even years later, as the songs are passed down generation by generation. The songbird also symbolizes Lucy’s charm and freedom, as she was never truly part of Panem, Snow’s world. Instead, she belonged to the Covey, a group of singers from the outlying areas, originally beyond Panem’s reach and control. These contrasting bird symbols highlight how Snow attempts to cage Lucy Gray, like a songbird, in his quest to consolidate his control and power in Panem. And by caging Lucy Gray, he loses her.

Both novels use symbolism to explore unusual ways birds represent love, control, and power. In Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, birds symbolize protection and care, whereas in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, birds take on a meaning of freedom and escape from a horrific regime. Both bird symbols also feature powerful female characters whose influence is felt throughout the storyline, even long after they’ve been killed or kidnapped.

Riggs and Collins also incorporate poetry to enhance the emotional depth of their stories. Poetry is utilized differently in each book. In The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, poetry foreshadows Lucy Gray’s lasting haunting of the narrative while continuing the symbolism of the Mockingjay. In contrast, in Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, poetry serves a more reflective role, guiding Jacob and connecting him to his destiny.

In The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, poetry plays a crucial role in revealing the inner conflicts of the characters, particularly Snow. References to poets like William Wordsworth, as well as poems transformed into ballads within the world of Panem, help shape the characters’ identities. For instance, Lucy Gray’s name is given from a William Wordsworth poem about a girl who haunts a forest. Here is an excerpt from the poem:

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O’er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. (Routledge)

This poem serves as a reflection of Lucy Gray’s role in the series, as she continues to impact on the story through the symbology of the Mockingjay, a bird that represents resistance through the whole series. Snow is haunted by Lucy’s memory, revealing how much control he tried to impose on her life, only to be unable to forget her when Lucy Gray’s descendant’s are forever selected by an invisible string to play in Snow’s controlling and performative Hunger Games.

In Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, poetry also plays a significant role. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s works help drive the plot forward. For example, Jacob’s grandfather instructs him to find a letter related to Emerson’s writings, which sparks Jacob’s journey. The poetry connects Jacob to his destiny, even though he initially fails to grasp its importance. Dr. Golan, another character, uses the letter and poetry as a tool to manipulate Jacob, leading him to Miss Peregrine and the peculiar children (Riggs 59).

Both novels are also shaped by historical events, which are reflected in their themes. Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children is partially set during World War II, with the peculiar children symbolizing marginalized groups, such as Jews during the Holocaust. Miss Peregrine’s role as a protector mirrors the efforts of those who risked their lives to safeguard vulnerable individuals during this dark period. The "hollowghasts" in the story serve as representations of the Nazi regime, adding a historical layer to the narrative of Jacob trying to find a place where he is accepted and belongs (Zarzycka).

In a similar vein, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes draws inspiration from the emergence of authoritarian regimes, especially in the post-World War II era. This is a time that also aligns with the backdrop of Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. Snow’s ascent during the Capitol’s vulnerable period after the Dark Days, when rebellion nearly toppled their rule, illustrates his relentless pursuit of dominance and authority over the districts. This trajectory closely resembles the strategies employed by dictatorships like Nazi Germany, where fear and propaganda were tools of control (United States Holocaust Memorial Museum). The importance of rebellion in these stories is echoed in contemporary movements. For example, protestors in Myanmar adopted the symbolic three-finger salute in the series to express defiance against the military régime. This uprising in Southeast Asia highlights how acts of resistance portrayed in fiction can inspire real-life activism (Lam). The lasting power of these symbols, rooted in dystopian literature, reveals a shared human yearning for liberty and justice, reinforcing how characters like Katniss and Jacob continue to motivate global struggles for freedom and equality.

Both Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children and The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes explore themes of love and control through carefully employed literary devices that encourage readers to think critically and uncover deeper meanings within the narrative. Each author demonstrates how power can serve as both a protective force and a tool of manipulation, shaping the characters’ journeys and the overall plot. The historical context interwoven into both novels enhances their impact, and the thematic complexity structured like a mosaic of underlying themes contributes to their lasting appeal in the young adult genre. With the recent release of Sunrise on the Reaping, Collins continues to educate and engage young adult readers, illustrating the dangers of authoritarianism and the insidious nature of propaganda. Her use of recurring symbols and ideas mirrors the motifs found in Riggs’s work, reinforcing their shared messages. These stories are poised to inspire and resonate with readers for generations to come.

Works Cited

Collins, Suzanne. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. Scholastic Press, 2020.

Lam, Tammy. "How The Hunger Games Transcends Make-Believe." The Science Survey, 2 Mar. 2024.

Mirra, R. "What Are Literary Devices? Explanation with Examples." Notion Press, 16 Dec. 2022, https://notionpress.com/blog/what-are-literary-devices-explanation-with-examples/.

Riggs, Ransom. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children. Quirk Books, 2011.

Routledge, C. "Featured Poem: 'Lucy Gray' by William Wordsworth." The Reader, 14 Apr. 2008, https://www.thereader.org.uk/featured-poem-lucy-gray-by-william-wordsworth/. Accessed 6 Apr. 2025.

United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. State of Deception: The Power of Nazi Propaganda. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, 2009, https://exhibitions.ushmm.org/propaganda/home/state-of-deception-the-power-of-nazi-propaganda.

Zarzycka, A. "The Gothification of World War II as a Source of Cultural Self-Reflection in Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children and Hollow City." War Gothic in Literature and Culture, edited by Katarzyna Więckowska and Agnieszka Soltysik Monnet, Palgrave Macmillan, 2016, pp. 229–245.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 18)

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen

The room is silent, save for the children’s breathing and their own. Haymitch knows his wife is awake, as she toys softly with his fingers, draped over her waist.

It’s been two days since the propo, from eight, aired in the districts. There’s been riots in several of them.

“Katniss wants to go back to twelve.” Y/N tells him. “Show Peeta what Snow did to it.”

Haymitch sighs, “I figured.”

“After his last interview with Caesar…” she breaks off, “they’re gonna kill him, Haymitch. They’re gonna starve him, torture him to death.”

“We don’t know that.”

“You saw him, it’s only been a few weeks.” 

Haymitch settles a hand over her heart, soothing the ache. “Beetee’s working on getting into the Capitol’s communications system. Once he’s in, they’ll play one of your propos and people will be storming the mansion.”

“He can’t get past his own design.” Y/N shakes her head.

“He will,” Haymitch whispers, “give it time.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbles. “I can’t just keep sitting here while he’s suffering.”

“I wish I had some divine wisdom to give you.” Haymitch tells her. “I can make something up. Or I can be honest; say that I’m here and I won’t leave. I will support whatever you decide and advise you as best I can. But right now there’s nothing else you can do.”

It is honest and raw, a truthfulness he’s so often shielded her from. It feels different. It feels good. “Thank you, for being honest.”

“From here on out, that’s how it’ll be.”

The words land like blows to her gut. “You still love me though?”

“I’ll always love you.” Haymitch says, without hesitation. “You didn’t always make it easy, but never once did I stop loving you. You’re it for me.”

She wriggles farther against him, melting into his arms with a smile. “I love you forever, Haymitch.”

“Mommy,” Arista’s little voice sounds, from the corner. “You’re talking in your sleep again.”

“No, baby. I’m talking to Daddy.”

“Can I talk too?” Arista perks up.

Haymitch chuckles, “come on. But you have to be quiet, your brother and sister are sleeping.”

Eventually sleep claims them all.

Y/N wakes in a tangle of arms and legs. Both of their older children have joined them.

Daisy begins to fuss, she needs to be changed and she’s hungry. So Y/N pries herself away, tending the baby and settling against the pillows of Everest’s empty bed to nurse her. She wails when Y/N pauses, mid feeding, to switch her to the opposite breast.

“I know,” Y/N cooes, “life’s hard, huh?”

Daisy pops open an eye to glare at her, as if she understands. Then latches on with a content sigh and stops kicking her little legs.

Y/N strokes a finger over the infant’s cheek. Unbidden tears well up in her eyes, swiped away before they fall. It is a blessing and a curse, to have pieces of your heart live outside your body.

When it comes time for breakfast, the five of them go together. They sit and try to enjoy this moment, enjoy their time together. Y/N and Haymitch walk Everest and Arista to school, in the lower levels.

The children introduce their parents to the few friends they’ve made. Only six other children reside here in thirteen, not including their own, or Prim. She’s working down in the hospital these days. Childhood has fleeted her.

Orders come, it’s time for Y/N to load up with Katniss and the others on the hovercraft. Haymitch walks her to the loading dock, Daisy sleeping in the wrap, against his chest.

“Soldier Abernathy,” Boggs greets her. “Glad you could join us.” He wasn’t thrilled with her performance in district eight. Following the mockingjay into harm’s way, without a second thought. Though she acted erratically, he sees now, there is no safer place for Katniss than by her side.

“Boggs,” she nods, in return. Then gives her husband a proper goodbye.

Haymitch smiles into the kiss. It is not hungry or desperate, but sweet, calming even.

“I’ll see you for dinner.” She waves as they separate.

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

They break for lunch, after filming a propo in twelve. It’s mostly Gale, recounting what happened after Y/N’s warning was received.

Everything is gone, save for bones and rubble of what they once called home. The houses in Victor’s Village still stand, preserved from the attack. Y/N passes through her front door.

She ventures to Arista’s closet, opening one of the tubs at the bottom, full of clothing that no longer fits. The ones they saved, just in case. A white footed onesie that Everest and Arista wore as infants should be there. Eventually she gives up looking, it must’ve been moved. Perhaps something Haymitch dug out, in preparation and forgot to mention.

Y/N closes the door to Arista’s room, catching a whiff of something sweet, floral, from down the hallway. The room they’d hardly touched, meant for Daisy. She pushes the door open, the crib is assembled, the bedding in place, surrounded by a bed of crisp, white, roses. Lying against the mattress is the missing outfit.

Forever tainted by this memory. She takes it anyway, holding the soft fabric to her chest. It no longer smells of her sweet babies, or the soap she used to clean the onesie once they outgrew it.

Stuffing it into her bag to wash, Y/N takes their pictures, the baby books, as much as she can carry. She may never be back here, their memories are too important to lose.

When she meets Katniss and the others, down at the quarry, she’s not in the mood for small talk. Y/N takes a seat on the rocks, and chokes down her rations.

“What’s that?” Cressida nods toward the fabric peeking out of Y/N’s bag.

“Oh, it’s just um,” Y/N tucks it back in, “nothing.”

The director smiles. “Can I see?”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “sure.” She pulls the garment free, holding it up for inspection. “I’ve had it since my son was born, my oldest daughter wore it too, so I figured-”

“Did you make it?”

“No.” Y/N lowers her gaze, “it was someone else.”

“Where are they now?” Cressida wonders.

“I don’t know,” Y/N lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know if they’re even alive, or…” dead. “Either way I don’t think we’ll see each other again.”

Cressida nods, “it smells like the Capitol.”

“Reeks,” Y/N agrees, “needs to be washed.”

————————————————————————

“Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of hope, side by side with me.”

“That line used to be necklace of rope,” Plutarch informs the viewing room, as the newest propo of Katniss singing in district twelve, plays over the large screen. “I had it changed to necklace of hope.”

“Ah,” Haymitch raises his cup to the gamemaker. It’s full of nothing but water, still it feels familiar to have there. “You are a true wordsmith.”

“It’s a little on the nose, but of course, so is war.” Plutarch smiles.

“Every district is seeing this?” President Coin asks.

Gale’s message is strong, redeeming on Y/N’s behalf. It’s enough to win over the districts, without breaking whatever ties she holds with citizens of the Capitol.

“Yes, but not the Capitol.” Beetee frowns, “we’ll get there.”

Y/N nods. There was no time between supper with the kids and being called to this meeting in command.

Haymitch doesn’t know about the crib or the outfit, but he picked up the scent of roses from her bag. He knows something is off.

They are dismissed after a time. Again they wait, walking hand in hand to their living quarters. Haymitch moves for the touchpad to open the doors.

“Wait,” Y/N stops him. “There’s something I need to tell you…about the house. It’s still there.”

“I figured.” She wouldn’t have come back with things from inside if it was burnt to ash.

“Snow had the crib moved into Daisy’s room. He took the onesie Vanity made out of Arista’s closet and left it there.”

“That’s why it smells like that?”

“Yeah, the nursery was full of roses.”

“He doesn’t know,” Haymitch realizes.

“Know what?”

“If he knew her name was Daisy, he would’ve left daisies instead. He would want us to know that he knows. He’s fishing for information he doesn’t have.” Haymitch knows this game.

“So what do we do?” Y/N asks, turning worried eyes to her husband.

“We’re getting through to the districts, Y/N. We just have to wait him out.”

————————————————————————

Peeta’s final interview with Caesar does not air in the mess hall, like the others. Only higher ups in the command center are granted access. Y/N leaves the children with Madge. Rushing to meet Haymitch once the message reaches her.

The boy she once knew is broken, hollow. His eyes haunted by the horrors inflicted upon him. His voice trembles over each word. Oh, Peeta.

“Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Where they strung up a man, they say who murdered three.”

The image of Katniss cuts through his own.

“Katniss?” Peeta stammers, searching for her.

“He sees it.” Coin rejoices, “he sees our propo.”

“Katniss, are you there?”

Y/N moves closer to Haymitch, searching for his hand and finds it inching toward hers.

“Peeta.” Katniss whispers, a hand held to her belly as she crowds the screen. Desperate to offer a comfort she cannot give. I’m here.

“Peeta, please continue.” Caesar redirects him. “You were telling us about these savage attacks.”

Peeta nods, his thoughts clouded. Perhaps he had been seeing things, just imagining Katniss; the sound of her voice. “The attack on the dam was a callous and inhuman act of destruction.”

“The dead man called out…for his love to flee.”

Peeta sees her again, sitting up at the edge of his chair. He knows what he has to do. Even if they kill him for it. “Think about it. How will this end? What will be left? No one can survive this. No one is safe now. Not here in the Capitol, not in any of the districts.” He pauses, mustering the courage. “They’re coming, Katniss. They’re gonna kill everyone. And in district thirteen you’ll be dead by morning-”

The blow of Snow’s cane sends blood spattering across the screen. His features twisted in anger.

“That was a warning,” Haymitch says. President Coin is dense, he needs to be sure she understands.

Y/N rushes to Katniss, turning her away.

“They’re gonna kill him.” Katniss cries. “We have to get him out.”

“Shh,” Y/N hushes her. “We’re gonna get him.” She believes what she’s saying, she has to.

“Can you see anything?” Coin asks the patrol operator.

“Nothing on Doppler.”

“He was in the mansion, he could’ve overheard something.” The president reasons.

“Possibly,” Plutarch agrees.

“He wouldn’t just make it up,” Y/N snaps.

Alma mulls it over for a moment, “it’s time for an air raid drill.”

The alarms sound, immediately. “This is a code red alert, please remain calm and follow evacuation protocol. Proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest stairwell and descend to level forty. Blast doors will be sealed in six minutes.”

Y/N is still holding Katniss as Haymitch closes the distance between them. “Take Katniss and I’ll meet you there.”

“Haymitch, no.” Y/N shakes her head. “I wanna come with you.”

Haymitch turns to Katniss, “Prim and your mom are down at the hospital, right?”

Katniss nods, tears welled up in her eyes and she cannot speak.

“Good, they’ll be waiting for you.” One less thing to worry about.

“Haymitch,” Y/N says again.

“Getting to Madge and the kids will take longer with three of us and you know it.” He’ll have to fight his way up through a crowd of people rushing down. “I need you to trust me.”

“I-” she wants to argue, but there’s no time. She has to trust him. “Ok.”

‘If you love something, you set it free or some bullshit like that.’

The furrow of his brow softens. The words come easier now, in the panic and the shouting; at the thought of losing her. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Y/N and Katniss go left, hands clasped together.

Haymitch turns right; and they lose each other in a sea of strangers.

Part 19

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly

[shesasurvivor]

Everlark Smut by shesasurvivor

Lately, one of my first real forays into Everlark fanfic, Blue on Grey/A House United have been getting some attention for its smut, and that's exciting! Those stories hold a special place in my heart and I'm still incredibly proud of them. But I've also written several smutty stories over the last decade that, in my opinion, are also every bit as deserving as attention, and I thought I would put together a post highlighting them!

Below is, as of January 2022, a complete list of all the smutty Everlark stories I've ever written.

Blue on Grey - As Katniss Everdeen and her family deal with the painful aftermath on the losing side of the Civil War, they also must adjust when a young Yankee soldier is stationed in their house.

A House United - Follow up to Blue on Grey. Katniss Everdeen has done the unspeakable with Union soldier Peeta Mellark. Now she's agreed to marry him. But first, they must make it through a proper courtship while surviving the trials of the Reconstruction Era South. Historical AU.

Getting There - Katniss has started being intimate with Peeta, but there are still a few barriers she needs to break through to fully enjoy herself. A suggestion from Dr. Aurelius may be just what she needs. Post-Mockingjay, masturbation/mutual masturbation. This remains my single favorite piece of smut I've ever written. As one wonderful reviewer on FFN put it, its, "realistic and perfectly in character, seems almost like a natural extension of canon, and is still both INSANELY hot and sweet at the same time." Exactly what I was going for, and I'm so proud.

Rain will Make the Flowers Grow - It’s a far cry from how we both were mere months ago, broken shadows of our former selves. At one point, I believed any hope of being with him had truly died out. But now we’re here, together. And this is happening. I could cry if I weren’t so caught up in the heat of the moment. Various insights to the life Katniss and Peeta build together post-Mockingjay. Another favorite of mine. Thinking of renaming my entire Post-MJ series with this name, because it's perfect.

This Flame will Burn Forever - "'Fine,' I say, pretending to be annoyed. 'Peeta, I- ' the words become choked up in my throat, just like they always do. And I hate that they do, because it isn’t that I don’t want Peeta to know the truth. I’ve told him how I feel about him, more than once. I want him to know, because I never want to hide anything from him ever again. And really, this isn’t why I have a hard time saying it. It’s because a part of me--an irrational part of me, I’ll admit--is afraid that by saying it out loud, some force, somewhere, will pick up on it and take him away from me again." Katniss and Peeta spend a cold winter day wrapped up in each other. Not quite as explicit as some of my other fics, but still revolves quite a bit around sex so I'm including it.

Netflix and Chill - Katniss Everdeen works three jobs, and is a full time student. She really needs to learn how to chill–and Peeta Mellark knows how to help. Modern Day AU. Written for the Fall 2016 MoreS2SL fundraiser.

Everybody's Got a Dark Side - When Katniss reminds Peeta about the time President Snow visited the study, it accidentally triggers an episode. Then Peeta decides it's time to reclaim Katniss... and the desk. Hijacked!Peeta smut, post-Mockingjay. Another one I'm proud of, because this is different from the kind of thing I usually write. It was fun to do.

Cosa Nostra - Katniss Everdeen is a performer for The Mockingjay, a hotel and casino run by mob boss Coriolanus Snow in Las Vegas. Peeta Mellark is the accountant who might be a plant for the FBI in The Mockingjay’s business office. The two are instantly drawn to each other, but how can anything possibly end well when they are on two opposing sides? Especially when the mob will have no problem harming Katniss’s sister if she betrays them. 1950’s historical AU set in mob-run Las Vegas. This one is special to me, because it was inspired by my own time living in Las Vegas. Smut is only in one chapter, but oh, it's there.

The Tigers Come at Night - Forced into prostitution in the Capitol, Katniss and Peeta find a way to seek refuge in the only people who understand: each other. But when they begin to sleep together for comfort in the supposed safety of their own homes, an unplanned occurrence makes the third Quarter Quell more difficult than it already is. Catching Fire AU. WARNING: Forced prostitution, non-con sexual situations. I questioned including this story on my list, because most of the sex scenes are absolutely not meant to be taken as anything other than incredibly traumatic; they're not meant to be romanticized at all. But there are a few this story that are genuinely romantic, and the story is generally about sex. Just please note that this story is dark, and it's not meant to glorify non-consensual sex in the slightest.

And the Sea is A-Roar - The people of land aren’t supposed to interact with those who live in the sea. It’s a law that was decreed long ago. Peeta, prince of the kingdom by the sea, knows this better than anyone. But the sea calls to him, and he finds himself unable to resist. On a secret visit to the shore one day, he finds himself attempting to save a mysterious woman, only for her to save him instead. Upon discovering that his savior is a mermaid, the two strike up a deal for her to give him secret swimming lessons. However, Peeta finds it harder to keep his taboo relationship with the mermaid hidden; and worse, he finds himself falling for her. Finally, the most recent of my smutty stories, because who doesn't love a good smutty mermaid AU?

[bookish-mind]

Reactions to The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

*spoilers ahead, proceed with caution*

Part 3: The Peacekeeper

-OH SHIT THEYRE SWDING HIM TO DISTRICT 12 ?!

-“Do you hear that Coriolanus? It’s the sound of Snow falling.” Daaayyyuuuum burn

-Sejanus as a peacekeeper ? no, this is gonna end badly I can already tell

-“No, Sejanus. Let’s not give them the satisfaction” asheiwldbdhwklq the parallels I swear

-he made a deal so Coryo can graduate oml Coryo does not deserve this friendship

-“These people had given up, and some part of him blamed them for their plight” careful Coryo you privilege is showing

-lmao for some reason his fear of the woods makes me laugh

-“He was not sure he’d ever be used to the refrain of someone’s death cry” ....you think too highly of yourself apparently

-his hatred of mockingjays makes THG so ironic

-“Do I look okay?” “Gorgeous. Trust me, that lip’s working for you, soldier” I cANT

-LUCY WROTE THE HANGING TREE ABOUT ARLO AND LIL MY MIND IS BLOWN

-after all those times katniss sat debating the meaning of that song and now we get the origin?? I’m too hyped about this

-“Why would evil incarnate help his girlfriend?” His inner thoughts are sendingg meee I stg

-also I’m guessing that the games were just some drunken joke to Highbottom but Crassus took it as a legit idea

-Coryo in the Hob, trading for bread at the bakery, walking though the Seam, frolicking in the meadow, swimming at the lake,, this feels so wrong

-eww his feelings for Lucy are gross he’s so damn possessive, always talking about her like he owns her

-ugh they just don’t work together, his head is full of capitol propaganda i cringe

-If nothing else this book makes it clear why Snow was so triggered by katniss, apart from the obvious threat of rebellion, she must have reminded him so much of his past

-“I don’t run Panem” tHE IRONY

-y’all.. is katniss related to the covey ??? Bc it would make so much sense

-FUCK HE’S RECORDING SEJANUS NOOOO

-part 3 is erasing any ounce of love I felt for Coryo

-hanged for treason.. I saw it coming, but it hurts it’s hurts give me a minute

-page 470 will forever haunt me

-“he knew that he’d shoot her again if he had it all to do over, and somehow that supported the rightness of his actions” no sorry bro that’s not how morals work

-who knew this book would turn into such a psychological thriller with Coryo hunting his “lover” through the forest

-we been knew he was a monster bc of THG so why do I feel so betrayed

-her fate is a mystery just like her song I see I see

-ah yes what a lovely vacation, it will always be fondly remembered as the summer Coryo developed a liking for mURDER

-THE PLINTHS JUST FUCKIN REPLACED SEJANUS THAT EASILY WHAT THE FUCK

-“Tonight would have been Sejanus’s nineteenth birthday, and they were gathering for a quiet dinner to remember him” CORYO HAS NO RIGHT ! NO RIGHT

-I HATE HIM I HATE HIM SO MUCH

-“she and her mockingjays could never harm him again” hA JUST U WAIT

-wow Coryo wasted zero time making his next kill with tHE POISON

-the amount of hatred I feel for Coryo is literally bringing me to tears I don’t even know what else to say

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, everybirdfellsilent!

Happy belated Birthday, @everybirdfellsilent​! Apologies once again for all the mix-ups and confusion with your gift! I hope you had a truly wonderful day back when it actually was your birthday, and that it was much more orderly than this! To bring the party feels back, @ally147writes​ has emerged from everlark retirement to write a birthday gift just for you!

AN: Let me tell you, @everybirdfellsilent​, I agonised over the ending. This was the neatest and tidiest I could make it without writing you a novel. I hope it makes you chuckle a little.

Also a good time to let the audience know that I cannot write horror, or ghost stories, but dang it, I can write borderline crack, and I wanted to write Buzzfeed Unsolved-inspired ghosthunter!everlark so damn much.

Unbeta’d, because that’s how I roll.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The old Undersee mansion doesn’t look haunted.

 Not that that really means anything. Most of the houses they’ve visited over the years haven’t looked haunted. They’ve been completely normal — except for that one in District Ten that had some kind of summoning circle in the basement (Peeta will die hoping it was drawn with red paint, a super weird kid’s project, but he’s got a feeling he’ll be dying disappointed. And extremely terrified) — with completely normal gardens in completely normal streets.

 So, no. Like most, the old Undersee mansion doesn’t look haunted, but it definitely feels haunted.

Peeta pauses at the bottom of the winding path. At its end, atop a small hill, the innocuous house sits empty, Madge and her family out for the next few nights while he and Katniss investigate. It’s as normal looking as any of the other exorbitantly large mansions on the street, but the longer Peeta stares down the deceptively cheerful, sunshine-yellow door, a deep, intense foreboding settles in his gut and ferments there.

 He swallows. “Uh, Kat?”

 Katniss sighs and stops at the first step to the porch, and Peeta swears he can hear her eyes rolling. Hard. “What is it, Peeta?”

  “I just… I got a real bad feeling about this one.”

 “Peeta,” she starts, mounting the first step, “you’ve had real bad feelings about all of them so far. And you’ve been wrong every time.”

 “No,” he replies quickly, following behind in the relative safety of her shadow. “You’ve just chosen to deny whatever proof we do find.”

 “A battery running out in our flashlight does not mean ghosts were playing with it.”

 “It ran out at the exact moment I told the spirits to turn it off!”

 “I don’t know how else to tell you that was a coincidence. The flashlight had been on for a good two hours by that point.”

 “A little convenient, don’t you think? Come on, Katniss. Plus, it turned right back on again when we were done, so the battery can’t have been that damn flat.”

 “I can’t understand why you’re so eager for this all to be the work of ghosts when it scares you shitless every single time.”

 “What about the time the spirit box said your name?”

 “Peeta,” she says with a strained laugh. “It said, Can’t Miss. As in, the District 12 Mockingjays Can’t Miss. It was a snippet of a goddamn basketball ad. It’s on the radio all the time on game days.”

 “Yeah, and the spirit box allows ghosts to use radio waves to communicate. Of course it wasn’t going to find Katniss — who the hell’s advertising katniss? — so it picked the next best thing.”

 “I’ll just sit here and wait for them to use a snippet of a pita bread company ad to talk to you, then.”

 He glares at the back of her head. “I’m sure they would, if there was a pita factory nearby that advertised.”

 She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Peeta. Let’s go find you a ghost.” She lifts a camera to her eyes and kicks the heavy mahogany door open and flicks on the gently swinging chandelier light.

 “Ghosts, spirits, urban legends and other assorted demonic entities, how are we all this evening?”

 “Katniss,” he hisses as he closes the door. “Some respect, maybe?”

 “What part was disrespectful? I covered, well, maybe not the full the spectrum of possible occupants, but definitely most of them, and asked how they were. Honestly if they’re not going to reply, they’re the disrespectful ones, not me.”

 The light flickers out. Katniss snorts. Peeta lets out a squeak he’s not proud of.

 “She doesn’t mean it,” Peeta calls frantically. “For the love of God, she doesn’t mean it. I’m sure you’re all lovely and polite.”

 The light flickers weakly and comes back on. The chandelier fitting swings like a pendulum, casting stretching and receding shadows over the white-sheet covered lounges and a thick, dark coffee table.

 “What the hell do you call that, Katniss?”

 “Shoddy wiring?” She shrugs. “Peeta, this house is about a century old. Probably more, actually.”

 “Madge said it was renovated and rewired two years ago.”

 She shrugs again. “Rats? Raccoons, maybe? That would explain the supposedly unexplainable shuffling sounds Madge thinks she hears.”

 Now he rolls his eyes. “Why am I married to you, again?”

 “Because divorce is costly and time consuming,” she says, kissing his cheek. “Besides, my logic goes well with your fatalistic romanticism.”

 “None of that’s going to matter when this house goes all Poltergeist and swallows us.”

 “Then what a good thing it is that that’s never going to happen.” She plonks herself down on one of the lounges and sets a pair of small motion-sensing cameras pointing at each entrance. Peeta swallows and hitches a thumb towards the kitchen.

 “I’m… uh, gonna look around for a bit.”

 “All right,” Katniss says absently. “Scream if you need me.”

 “Will do.”

 That dread in his stomach recedes and grows with each room he enters. He doesn’t feel anything wrong with the kitchen, or the dining room, but as he ventures up the staircase to the bedrooms, he swears he can feel something weighty on his shoulders.

 A sound like a dry, rattling whisper like nails on paper echoes through the long hall leading to the attic entrance. Peeta gulps. “Hello?” He thumbs open the recording app on his phone and turns it on. “Is anyone there?”

 The whispering sound grows. It doesn’t sound like words, exactly. At least, not words that he knows. They race up and along his spine until it sounds like they’re shouting in his ear.

 Peeta squeaks, jumps about a foot in the air, and something skitters past, too fast to see. A wave of cold washes over him, settling in icicles on his bones, and for a moment he stands stock still, not even breathing…

 Another whisper, one that sounds very, unnervingly close to hello, and he sprints back down the stairs to the living room, triggering the motion sensors into a high-pitched beeping sound.

 Katniss bolts upright. “What the hell is going on?”

 “Kat, were you… God, were you sleeping?” he asks, aghast.

 “What? It’s boring down here.” She blinks blearily up at him. “Are you okay?”

 “There… there’s something up there.”

 “Something as in actually something? Or something like your imagination run wild?”

 “Something like… it was making the strangest whispery, scratchy noises. I thought they were words, but… and then, something just… ran right past me. I didn’t see, but it was so so fast, and I —”

 “Peeta, it’s probably vermin. And the wind. And just… a bit of everything coming together to make you think it’s ghosts when it’s… just, not.”

 But his hands are shaking, and his pulse is more like one long thud instead of lots of little ones. “I just… I don’t…”

 She rolls her eyes. “Would it make you feel better if I went and checked? You can stay here with these stupid motion sensors; they’re only picking up bugs, anyway.”

 “No. No, I’ll go with you,” he says, setting a fist against his chest like that’ll do any good against his heart’s very valiant escape attempt. “Just in case.”

 “Right,” she drawls, “just in case the wind gets me.”

 He follows a step behind her, through the kitchen, down the corridor, and up the stairs. He doesn’t feel quite as heavy this, time, either. She cracks open every door they pass, six unused bedrooms, three bathrooms, two studys, and a small library, all silent. They’re left with one room at the very end. As she opens the final door, the whispering starts again, and a low moan like racing wind echoes.

 She steps in, and he turns on the light. The room is huge, but full. A writing desk sits in the far corner, and a neatly-made four-poster bed occupies the other corner. Beside the door, a seated vanity with a wide, oval mirror wiped free of dust. On its table, a collection of large and small hairbrushes, and an open box filled with tangled threads and needles and buttons and snippets of fabric. But none of those things holds Peeta’s focus for long.

 Instead, he stares at a wide cabinet spanning nearly the whole length of the back wall, covered so densely in dolls of every conceivable material, fabric and wool, porcelain and plastic. The whispering is almost deafening, and every time Peeta turns his head to look somewhere else, he could swear the dolls are twitching, blinking, watching.

 “Did, uh, Madge ever mention the doll collection?”

 Katniss scowls at the dolls. “She might’ve? I don’t really remember.”

 “Oh, I don’t think you would have forgotten something like this,” Peeta retorts.

 “I… well, yeah, this is definitely weird, but I don’t think we can call it haunted, or otherworldly.”

 “What the hell else would you call it?”

 “Any number of perfectly reasonable and logical things, Peeta. Mrs. Undersee likes weird, creepy dolls; what more can you say?”

 “Don’t call them weird and creepy.” He sets a finger against her lips. “I’ve read about haunted dolls. If you’re not respectful, they might curse you.”

 She rolls her eyes, but nods all the same. He doesn’t take his eyes off hers as he lowers his finger and shoves his hands in his pockets.

 He turns back to the dolls, and clears his throat. “Uh, we mean no harm or anything. It’s just… you’ve kind of been terrifying my friend and her parents, and we’d like you to please stop. Please.”

 Katniss whispers, “You already said please.”

 “Can’t hurt to say it twice.”

 “Did you bring the, uh… the thing? You know, the thing that reads the waves or whatever it was?”

 He shoots her a dour look. “You mean the EMF?”

 “Yeah, that. Do you have it?”

 “No, I don’t.” He sighs. “It would have been in the pack with the motion sensors, so it’s still downstairs.”

 “Spirit box?”

 “In the pack, too.”

 She surveys him strangely, arms crossed over her chest. “You really didn’t come prepared, did you?”

 “I was prepared! I just… didn’t think I’d be accosted in the very first hallway I went into.”

 She snorts. “Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll think —” She stops, freezes, eyes riveted on something Peeta can’t see. His heart thumps harder and louder than he’s ever felt before.

 “Uh, Katniss? Is something wrong.”

 “Peeta,” she says, deadpan.

 “What?”

 “Look over there, in the gap between the cabinet and the desk. See that?”

 He does see that. He backs up so hard he’s going to have a massive bruise on his ass from the vanity he’s just about knocked over. “Holy shi — Are those… are those eyes?”

 “Yeah, they’re eyes. You wanna know what kind of eyes?” She picks up a hairbrush from the vanity stand next to them and hurls it at the gap.

 “Goddamn raccoon eyes, Peeta,” she says as the small pack of raccoons scatter. “There’s probably holes in the drywall or something, hence your scratchy whispers.”

 “I… oh.”

 “Yeah, oh. Raccoons, Peeta. Ninety-five percent of the time, it’s probably rats or raccoons.”

 “It wasn’t rats or raccoons in that place in District 10.”

 “That… was an outlier of a house, I’ll give you that, but it was probably still just people. Very strange, very creepy people.” She nudges him gently with her elbow and cocks her head to the door. “Come on, we should try and see if we can find the holes they were coming in through.”

 “You want to do home repairs?”

 “Hey, we promised Madge an exorcism, didn’t we? This is just a different kind of exorcism.”

 She hooks her arm in his, and they leave the doll room together. A sound like bye follows them out, but this time he can ignore it. Raccoons. Obviously.

 “Why do you come with me to these things?” he asks when they reach the bottom of the stairs.

 “Peeta,” she says seriously. “Know that I say this with all the love in my heart… you would die if I didn’t come with you.”

 “If I did die, I would so mercilessly haunt your ass.”

 She pats his arm, shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t, Peeta. Ghosts aren’t real.”

[girlobsessed21]

My thoughts on The 100 7x05

Hey, guys,

Sorry for not doing any comments on the last two episodes. I’ve been a little busy and I struggled to connect to the show, so it hindered my enjoyment, but it’s all better now. Liked episode 4 and 5 was even better, jampacked with info and it answered a lot of questions.

Welcome to Bardo

Badass Octavia is da bomb (people don’t say that anymore, right?). When she was captured in episode two, I thought she had lost her fighting spirit, but it’s back, bitches. Well, until she runs into an invisible wall trying to escape. She’s captured and transported to M-cap (whatever that means). Then we get a welcome little flashback to Lincoln but it’s obvious that Bellamy would be the hand reaching out. He’s her rock, like she’s expressed many times.

Unlike John Murphy who is not quite a friend, or family and definitely not a lover. Introducing so many new characters in the final season of a show is never a good idea, because this is the time to wrap up all the stories of the existing ones, but come on, who cannot love Levitt. Even when he first meets Octavia, he doesn’t want to hurt her. Jason, you better not harm one hair on this precious little puppy’s head!

As he binges The 100 through Octavia’s eyes, he starts rooting for her, and he actually gives a damn, unlike most people on this show. He understands her strengths and weaknesses and he makes her see it too. “You’re a warrior to be sure, but your heart is pure.” Wow, what an honest and beautiful line. (Scroll down for my shipping comments.)

So is O and Hope’s fleeting little reunion. It’s amazing to experience this deep loving side of Octavia after her darkness. She’s truly one of the most diverse and developed characters on the series. Now Hope and her resilience is quickly making it to the top as well.

While Hope is trying to send her back home, we learn that memory loss is due to the time dilation. One quick note on this, it’s not linear, there’s no easy equation to calculate it unless you’re Stephen Hawking or Einstein. I don’t think it’s constant either. 10 years on Skyring = 11 days on Bardo = a few minutes on Sanctum. In the current time, 5 years on Skyring = 1 day on Sanctum = 7 days on Bardo. So, it’s clear that the planets are moving, and other factors are playing into the phenomenon. It’s more important to understand the time relative to each planet.

Levitt was the one who tattooed Hope’s code onto O’s back, also the one who planted the note into Hope’s arm. Indeed the kind of man you want on the inside, he even accepts a blow to the face as thank you.

Sheep-ish?

Thirty minutes on the clock and the trio gets led to a congregation to praise the shepherd. I never thought it was Anders, I do, however think it might be Cadogan. The Bordoan’s built the underground forest because they destroyed their planet. Ugh, what’s new? The shepherd herded his sheep from earth to Bardo via the stone. Cadogan and his second dawn cult?

Back to Clarke. So, after last episode I thought ‘the key to winning the last war’ line was an artifice for luring Clarke to disciples, but now it’s clearly true. They’ve located the key and they will win the last war. Levitt was interested in Clarke surviving the City of Light with the flame in her head, they probably assume she still has it. Cadogan burned Becca alive. Could it be because of the flame? Is this all because of that damn little chip that can’t seem to die?

Bellamy is not dead, I repeat, Bellamy is not dead! I believe that memory could be staged or implanted for a reason. Also, there’s no body, he jumped through the bridge. In the promo photos, he wears a ring but his actions towards Octavia seem a little cold and generic. On first watch, I thought it was bad acting but if he was programmed to do this, it makes sense.

Note the sequence of events. Octavia returned 7 days ago and was asked to talk her brother down, but we don’t see the actual scene. Instead we’re shown a memory. They could have implanted it to make her vulnerable and perhaps more susceptible to the procedure. I don’t know, but this theory could lead to Robot-sheep!Bellamy on Nakara, where he’ll encounter Clarke and the gang.

I have to be honest, I really don’t like this character arc for Bellamy. It’s unoriginal and a mime of Peeta’s storyline in Mockingjay. Sorry, but so far it feels like the writers were so over the show, they just wanted to get it done. And that attitude really bleeds into one’s creative concepts. I could be completely wrong, in fact, I hope I am.

Echo spins a Finn

My word, I lost the love of my life once, but I sure didn’t kill anyone. When Echo received that vision of Roan, I was hoping for some progression on her individual arc, they’ve made me care about her, and now we get the opposite. Why? One thing I have to admit, a killer performance from Tasya Teles! No pun intended.

Look, this show hasn’t explored Bellamy and Echo’s relationship enough to make her murder believable. It was the exact same thing with Finn. I wasn’t invested in Finn and Clarke’s connection, so his actions of killing a grounder tribe was more repulsive than understandable. Sure, Echo loves Bellamy and her sole purpose is to save him, but I’ve never truly witnessed their love for each other. They had one or two intimate scenes which cannot compel a deed like this. And in the process, she screwed Hope and Diyoza.

Anyway, I don’t think there’s any coming back from it. She murdered an innocent person in cold blood. That’s sure to open a door to the dark side.  Just look at Octavia after killing Pike and her actions were justified by jus drein jus daun.

Say Sanctum three times slowly and it sounds like… Sanctum

Blind faith

Look, I’m just gonna come out and say this song is getting old. Every episode featuring Sanctum is the exact same thing with different lines. Can we please move on from it, already? Yes, we know the COG want Russel dead, and the adjusters will go to extreme lengths to free Russel and the prisoners are background noise.

I did appreciate Nelson stepping in to try and save the girl, though. Still doesn’t save the fact that it’s repetitive. The Sanctum plotline is really struggling to take shape and I hope it happens soon. Dramatic eyeroll.

At least in the drought of a desert, you can always count on Murphy. “…I say we live and let die.” Typical cockroach line, right, but it’s ironic when he’s the one to step up, even if it is for Emori. Under the magnifying glass it’s the exact same plot as episode 1 and 3. He hesitates to take action, and eventually becomes the hero.

I mean, he saved that poor kid from being burned alive. Can you imagine sacrificing your own child in such a horrific away? Cults are beyond whacked, and, unfortunately, it’s reality that cult members are so blinded by their faith that they do not see rhyme or reason.

How did Murphy fail that test? I didn’t. When Trey named the four pillars, I thought, isn’t rejoice one of them? Surely, a cockroach would have smelled that trap a mile away.

Indra the great

Can we just give a massive round of applause to Adina Porter!!! That powerhouse walk vibrates strength and majesty, damn, she should be a false god, I wouldn’t dare threaten her with or without an army.

Three little words was all it took for her to recognize evil. “There’s a spider on your shoulder.” Smooth. Too bad she can’t kill him. Why not, how many of the faithful are left to cause an uproar? Wonkru doesn’t know it’s Sheidheda, they won’t care, the COG will fall in line and the prisoners will be happy as long as they get their compound. Sorry, I don’t get it and I don’t understand why she doesn’t tell anyone.  Someone please explain?

Granted, JR Bourne as Russel is way better, but I still don’t understand his actions. I hope they explore and explain him more, because he still feels flat unless he knows something of this final war. I’m hoping these two storylines align soon since it’s really driving a wedge between me and my love for the show.

Shipwreck

I’ll start with the easy stuff, Murphy, Emori and the perfect dress gets a heart eye emoji from me. They are so damn cute this season, can they please live happily ever after in the palace?

Octabriel vs Levittavia

Now, I enjoy Levitt fangirling over Octavia. I feel like he has a deep sense of her through her memories. If I have to root for an underdeveloped relationship, it will have to be one where the characters share thoughts and experiences even if it is through a sick, sci-fi procedure.

On the other hand, Gabriel and Octavia have immense chemistry, two seconds of them together bends my mouth into an “Aah, cute” pout. This will also add some approval and representation for mixed racial relationships.

I really don’t mind either way as long as they make me care through showing and not telling.

Bellarke

So, if my theory is correct, and Bellamy does end up on Nakara, Bellarke will encounter each other quite soon. Bellamy won’t be himself though, but he might pretend to be Bellamy to win Clarke’s co-operation. Is there hope for Bellarke yet?

Echo is now trotting a dangerous path and Bellamy might be pledged to a cause, so I doubt there will be a happy ending for Becho. Since 7x01 I’ve been thinking that the writers might want to develop something between Clarke and Gaia but if they are separated, is there enough time? Guess we’ll see.

This monster of a review is finally done… If you read through everything, you deserve a gold star! Let me know what you think, till we meet again…

[cannotescape]

Thoughts on The ballad of songbirds and snakes

I was curious to read the latest installment in the hunger games saga and I wasn’t disapointed. I’ll try to stay spoiler free in the review. In any case, the spoilers will be after a read more.

Many successful YA authors has been revisiting their work these past years. I... wasn’t impressed by most of them. The only sequel I’ve read that was worth the original work was La belle sauvage imo (not the entire Book of Dust series, sadly).

After reading The ballad of songbirds and snakes, it seems that the key for writing a sequel is actually to make it a prequel lol, with 0 to 1 character from the original. Add to it foreshadowing and a few hints and you get a winner.

A Snow redemption arc?

Knowing the premise, my first fear was that Snow was going to be the protagonist. I was smelling the redemption / justification arc from miles away. But Collins isn’t Rowling and Snow isn’t Snape (there is a Snape-like character though. he’s pretty interesting). The book can be summarized in one sentence: explaining a behavior isn’t the same as excusing it.

The book put the reader through an interesting experience: should we root for Snow, knowing what he will do in the future, and how long can we excuse his behavior? My reading experience was basically me trying to guess what Collins wanted me to think. I was waiting for the end to make up my mind about the book. There were hints that made me pause and go “huh” but I truly wasn’t sure how all of this was going to end.

I understood really late that Collins just let her readers choose what they wanted to think. You want to excuse Snow? You can, there’s enough material for that, and there’s enough good people around him for you to root for him. Linking his fate to Lucy Gray’s was clever. Making us believe that they were in the same boat (the hunger theme and the attention given to food made sure of that), when they couldn’t be farther apart? Well done. I can’t believe I fell for it.

So yeah, in my mind, Snow definitely isn’t redeemed or even excused in the end. You end up hating him even more. Collins doesn’t do manicheism apparently, so you get to empathize with him. Life and people put him in a difficult situation. But his pride and the importance he has given to his family’s status is what allowed people to blackmail him into doing... things.

Hints that Snow wasn’t being redeemed:

- talking about Lucy Gray like she’s his property - his strategy of differentiating her from the districts and immediately making her a potential Capitol citizen - not visiting Clemmensia in the hospital (it was emphasized enough times to make me pause) - choosing ignorance when faced with a situation he doesn’t want to deal with (refusing to acknowledge what Tigris must have done to survive during the war) - being quick as fuck to justify killing people (self-defense, yeah, but for how long?) - being condescending against Sejanus and district born people.

2. Just another Hunger Games book?

I started reading the story thinking it was going to be a hunger games book. It’s not. First of all, the games are nothing like the future ones. For historical and plot-related reasons (they’re building the games after all). What is striking is the lack of excitement: from the audience in the Capitol, and from the readers. Collins knows how to build suspense, she proved it with the first trilogy. It made the catharsis worked 100%: we were as much the spectators of the games as the Capitol.

Removing the excitement from the games? Making them dull and exposing them as the sheer horror show they are? Bold move. I also noticed that, overall, the tributes showed more empathy than in Katniss’ games. The war ended 10 years before. They had yet to forget “who the real enemy is”.

Just like in the THG, Collins used metaphors of the games in different parts of the book. The mentors have their own games going on (with a “prize” that is often presented as a lifesaver) + what happens in the very end. It didn’t bother me. I like symbolism and the games pervading every aspects of life is a good one.

What doesn’t make this a hunger games book is also the fact that... Katniss isn’t Snow. We’re following his story but he isn’t the real protagonist. Lucy Gray is a much better candidate, but the book is an actual demonstration of what happens when the narrative is taken away from you. The third person narrator was a nice change too. I think it allowed the narrator to present his thoughts as the truth without being immediately seen as biased. Free indirect discourse also makes you forget that the thoughts being expressed are Snow’s. Until the very end, when it becomes impossible to separate him from the narrator.

3. Class analysis

The rise of the bourgeoisie / nouveaux riches vs the fall of an ancient aristocracy grasping at straws to stay in power. Classic.

I don’t remember who theorized it (Gramsci maybe? or Paretto?) but the best way for a system to stay in place is to welcome a few “exceptional” people (and the word is meaningful in the book) from the lower but rising class. The Capitol is actively implementing this policy. The war made them aware of the benefits of having allies in the districts, mainly the richest families. The end of the book emphasizes the link between bourgeoisie and aristocracy - between money and status. And the most succesful citizen will be at the intersection of them.

Bonus: mockingjays and jabberjays being metaphors of the bourgeoisie and aristocracy. Mockingjays are a district evolution of the Capitol-made jabberjays, and they’re slowy but surely taking over.

Meaningful quote: “Give it up,” he muttered to the thing. “You’re no jabberjay.”

Oh, and what happens when the decaying aristocracy doesn’t want to bulge or evolve and the rising bourgeoisie is getting tired of being refused power and privilege?! Yep, a revolution. Not saying a revolution led by the working class can’t happen (it’s basically the hunger games’ plot), but the bourgeoise / aristocracy allyship certainly can slow the process down.

4. The hanging tree

Loved to read about how the song was created. And seeing its meanings change the more the story progresses. At first a remembrance of the Capitol’s cruelty, then a way to communicate a meeting place. Finally, a mourning song about treason. The line “they said who murdered three” only hit me with its full meaning two days after finishing the book lol. The murderer wasn’t hung after all.

Meaningful quote: “Music caused trouble”. I fucking love the simple irony in all those little sentences when you know how all this will end.

Tldr: All in all, I really enjoyed this book. It gives you insight into Panem’s world (and ours let’s be honest, the parallels are blatant) and makes Katniss’ story even more powerful imo.

Also, the only love story worth mentioning was one between two girls lmao so there’s that (it’s a blink and you miss it kind of thing, but it’s there).

Spoilers under the cut (not very spoilery tbh but better be safe).

5. Lucy Gray

Like I said, the real protagonist. Her legacy has literally been erased, which is fucking heartbreaking. There’s a reason why I couldn’t remember if she was even mentioned in the original trilogy.

And yet her legacy lived on. The song she wrote not only was passed down from one generation to the next depite being immediately forbidden, but it also became the symbol of the rebellion. Same symbolism can be seen in the mockingjays, who are deeply associated with her.

I just have a lot of feelings about her and I’m happy that Katniss made everything worth it in the end. And despite being two very different characters, Katniss became her reincarnation designed specifically to haunt Snow. And I just love that Katniss doesn’t know anything of Lucy Gray. But she’s unknowingly reenacting her life. Because her legacy was that powerful. Or because everything that Snow hated in District 12 are very present in these two strong girls. Funny what an environment can do

Meaningful quotes: “Well, I hope old you doesn’t haunt new you. We’ve already got enough ghosts between us.”

“Good-bye Lucy Gray, we hardly knew you.”

“She could fly around District 12 all she liked but she and her mockingjays would never harm him again.”

6. The philosophy behind the book

Freedom vs order and security, the social contract, what an individual can do against a corrupted society, is it possible to change things from the inside? (interesting to have Plutarch’s ancestor mentioned), the elite reproduction (hi Flickerman!), what do cricumstances do to human beings (the Mary Shelley’s quote at the beginning).

Meaningful quote : “People aren’t so bad, really,” she said. “It’s what the world does to them. Like us, in the arena. We did things in there we’d never have considered if they’d just left us alone.”

[christinelly]

Just finished Hunger Games trilogy, and:

1. WE. MUST. PROTECT. PEETA. Oh my god, my precious baby. CAN I PLS HUG YOU?!

2. THE ONLY SHIP I WILL STAN IS FINNICK AND ANNIE. THE TRUE LOVERS.

3. Low key kinda supportive of Everlark, but seriously I don't think Peeta deserves Katniss. So I'm in neither team Everlark Nor Galeniss, but so far I'm leaning towards Everlark because I don't like Gale. BUT damn I stan that moment Katniss calls Oeeta her "dandelion".

3. JOHANNA!!! Dude I wish we got more of her in Mockingjay!! She's that aggressive motivator and I love it.

4. PRIMMMMM UUUGGHHHHH T^T

5. BOGGS omfg may you Rest In Peace I love you so much

6. Honestly Mockingjay made me think about a rebellion in another perspective. For a good half of the Mockingjay Katniss wasn't even fighting - she was busy shooting propos. Of course it isn't her fault, but damn it made me see revolutions in a different way, how some people in revolutions are on the front line, battling, and others are behind the scenes, making propaganda to advocate what they want. I'm not sure how I feel about Katniss being so involved in the propo, though. On one hand, it kinda makes her role as the Mockingjay boring cause she's literally the face of the revolution, just saying encouraging words while others are fighting to death. On the other hand, I don't think she can fight so well cause THIS GIRL HAS BEEN THROUGH TOO MUCH SHIT

7. Speaking of shit can we talk about just HOW MUCH PAIN our characters went through?! Damn Suzanne really showed PTSD in different forms - Haymitch loses himself in alcohol cause it drowns out the pain of living (dude has his whole family KILLED when he lived cause he outsmarted the Capitol. My heart hurts). In Mockingjay I seriously saw Katniss as this zombie walking around and sleeping about cause she's so lost about her role, her meaning of life, swallowed by the guilt that led to this revolution she never asked for and all the deaths she involuntarily caused. She's got PTSD with all those nightmares and our Peeta and Johanna are tortured like SHIT in the Capitol, and Finnick is worried nuts about his love - oh, and let's not forget he had to sell his body at the age of 14 cause he was too sexy. OH MY GOD. Our characters have seen horrors.

8. The hunger games: fake dating but lethal.

9. Gotta admit, sometimes Peeta's declarations of love are annoying and frankly stressful. But he's too pure. I don't think he meant any harm. Ever.

10. Honestly the love triangle was really annoying for me, but it does bring my attention to the meaning of Everlark. Katniss being "in love" with Peeta IS what the Capitol wants because it would then tame the fires of revolution. But at the same time Peeta's love is so genuine, it's unnerving to have his pure love seen as a punishment for Katniss because she really didn't have feelings for him. When I think about all those kisses they shared, knowing full well that it's a show for the sake of protection, I hurt for the both of them: Peeta has to love knowing that the kisses Katniss gives are fake - unrequited love at it's finest. Meanwhile, Katniss has to fake love and give up a future of independence (and finding true love perhaps) and honestly and that's exhausting.

11. Until now, I genuinely wonder if Katniss does love Peeta. And when did she decide she will love him? In the first book she's certainly reserved about their feelings at the end. In the second things are complicated because of Gale until she goes into the arena. Then in Mockingjay, we see her and Gale a team again (it's nice to see some teamwork between them again; their friendship is strong), but I'm very suspicious of her care for Peeta. Then because of Peeta there's the beef Gale VS Peeta right again. Honestly, this love triangle is distracting.

That's all I have to say, lmao. May the odds ever be in your favour!