theirmockingjay

[theirmockingjay]

#THEIRMOCKINGJAY - ind. semi selective KATNISS EVERDEEN from THE HUNGER GAMES written by vic (+30, she/her). oc and crossover friendly. triggering content. reestablished april 2024.

[theirmockingjay]

i don't care about names. haymitch yaps and yaps and gives me entire backstories while i can't bother to remember names. but mom--- shut up, children number one.

[theirmockingjay]

“The food here is great! The torture is kind of a bummer, though.”

[theirmockingjay]

yay it my birthday!

[theirmockingjay]

The smell of food reached her nostrils while her hunter’s feet took her to the kitchen. Her game bag did not do justice to its name, for it had everything but game. Herbs, thread, paraffin, and a bit of coal, yes, but no game. It had been a trade day, not a hunting one. A tiring one, she thought, until the sight of her sister restored every bit of energy inside her body.

Katniss sat in front of Prim with an exaggerated serious expression. 

“Maybe he taught Vick everything he needed to know about hunting, so Gale and I can retire like old, old people, watch you and Vick while sitting on our rocking chairs. But wait… That means… If I retire… It does! You’re next!” she smiled, the way she only did for her, “Ready to pick up a bow, Primrose?”

@theirmockingjay liked for a starter!

prim was actually starting dinner by the time katniss got home. of course, their mother was in her room. but prim had things she needed to get done. "vick actually stopped by with game earlier." of course, she gave him some potatoes they had in exchange. but prim found it strange. usually they came together or they sent game home with each other. "did you and gale not go out together today? is he okay?"

[theirmockingjay]

“you believe me like a god / i’ll destroy you like i am”

— i’m your man, Mitski

[theirmockingjay]

@notefinal ♥'d the starter call! and we plotted! wohooo!

Her hands kept moving back and forth on the soft fabric of the couch. If she thought the one in the Justice Building was the most opulent thing she’d ever sat on, Katniss was in no way prepared for the Capitol-made furniture. Back and forth. Back and forth.

It anchored her to reality, because nothing felt real. Like trying to catch air with her hands, right into her palms-- while the fabric was there, ever so present, ever so soft. Volunteering. Prim’s screams. Gale’s comparisons. Even her own death, that was a given considering where she was headed, didn’t feel real at all.

The sound of a door startled her, and even if it was obvious it would eventually happen, she was still surprised. Riff Lorton, her mentor, walked into the compartment. What wasn’t obvious was how quickly he walked past her– it angered her.

“Aren’t you supposed to give me some advice, Lorton?” she asked, taking out her anger on the armrest of the couch that seemed to be the sole recipient of her turmoils.

[theirmockingjay]

@70th sent: [ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair ( annie’s got some fun and funky fishtail braids up her sleeve ) prompts for ordinary things · accepting!

The movements were so precise that Katniss entertained the thought that this was what it felt like, being one of those ropes Finnick used to knot and unknot, repeat. The hands did not shake, the breathing was slow and steady. It took her some time to remember those were the hands of a career, because the precision, the memories of Finnick, the minimum tugging of her hair and the smell of tobacco smoke and sea salt from her fingers overtook the only few parts of her brain that were awake and alert.

How easily this career could kill me in this moment, she thought, because if there was one thing nobody told you was that no one ever actually leaves the arena.

Once she felt Annie was done, Katniss ran her own fingers down the braid and took the end on her hand to admire the handiwork.

“It’s beautiful–” she said, and showed Annie the closest thing to a smile she could give her. Even then her muscles complained, not used to the gesture, “But here I am, trying to support an economy of self-sustain for the districts so we’re never dependant on a central government to regulate the products we get, and you, district four, braid my hair into what looks like the tail of a fish… Does it have a name? The type of braid, I mean”

[theirmockingjay]

@1stdandelion sent: [ food ] prompts for ordinary things · accepting!

The most prominent thought that plagued her mind was that she was much better at destroying things than creating them. The second was that, while she knew she was a complete and utter disaster at baking, she was nonetheless lethal enough to wipe the smile off Peeta's face as he stared at her handiwork. And gods, she wanted to.

“Before you say anything, it would do you well to remember that this was your idea. Not mine”, she scoffed, frowning at the dough as if it had personally insulted her and her family.

His idea. Bringing ingredients to her house to bake. Something not only edible, but with the looks of something edible, which she came to realize during her youth, wasn’t needed for nutrition on that last part. Katniss could, from a very young age, bake a brick of nutrition she wouldn't dare call bread, even if it was in the title of the recipe. 

But during the process it had been so easy to lose herself into forceful motions. Game did not require delicate fingers, not even patience, and she was neither delicate nor patient. Much better at destroying that creating, much better at hunting and killing with Gale than molding something new with care– and Peeta knew. Her kneading stopped as soon as the thought formed inside her head.

Because it was a weird time to come to the realization that while Gale knew how her mind processed things immediately, Peeta understood what her mind blocked under a thousand locks, and guided her towards that bettering of herself. Gale would have jumped inside fire with her, Peeta would embrace her to show her he can be exactly as warm without consuming her.

Oh no, she thought, words forming with such clarity that she destroyed dough between her fingers. Oh no. I hate clarity. I’m in love with him. I’ve always been. It’s always been him. Always. Always. She did hate the clarity, because neither of them were ready to face that side of their hearts' still. But if she didn’t bolt, if she didn’t disappear, she was sure she was going to the most stupid thing in the world.

Like saying “I love you”.

“I give up,” she said instead. On me. On recovering. On being good enough for you. On deserving your love again.

And bolt she did.

[theirmockingjay]

PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE *  inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt

[ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder

[ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together

[ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair

[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it

[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind

[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing

[ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing

[ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces

[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off

[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair

[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders

[ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle

[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen

[ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them

[ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together

[ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste

[ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too

[ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them

[ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them

[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls

[ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver

[ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking

[ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders

[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about

[ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different

[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house

[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing

[ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it

[ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar

[ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game

[ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle

[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in

[ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face

[ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver

[ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair

[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds

[theirmockingjay]

snow has a book. haymitch now has a book. i have three. we're not the same, boys. git good.

[theirmockingjay]

gale vs katniss (0-1)

[theirmockingjay]

“I agreed. I agreed when you told me we shouldn't lie to each other. This is no trap… It’s not…!”

By the time, she knew how her bouts of hysteria started, and the telltale signs were starting to show up, uncalled and strong, threatening to shake her body and shatter her into pieces. It was a bad time for it but for some reason, her first games came to mind, and he could not help her mind from picturing the President as a golden wasp– He was like a tracker jacker, knowing exactly where fear resides in her mind. She would rather die than live with Peeta’s death, being left behind— owing him. Loving him too, but owing was a system she knew far better than love, and easier to deal with. And Snow knew. He knew it would be the worst kind of punishment, watching from above as those she love feeded the soil. It didn't matter who was crowned at the end of each Hunger games-- He was the only real victor. 

“It’s not a trap! It’s not! I’ll be there, just– Just let him go!”, she repeated, holding on to a chair to control the way her body shook with spasms and her knees trembled, “But… make sure he doesn’t see me”

The travel back to her camera crew, even to thirteen was a blur of faces and distant sounds. Katniss was not sure if someone had attempted to talk to her, the only reality the bracelet on her hand that read ‘mentally disoriented’. She guessed that helped corroborate the words, making her look unstable.

Sleep was out of the question. She rocked back and forth on her bed, the pearl clutched tightly on her fist. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m from District twelve. There is no District twelve anymore. Snow has Peeta. Snow will release Peeta tomorrow. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m from—

“I need to hunt alone today”

Her own voice surprised her. Gale stood in front of her, and she had the alien memory of him waiting for minutes for her to talk. He looked as if he was about to tell her how it was a bad idea in her condition, but– Gale knew her. He could tell when she had an agenda of her own. And he just nodded.

Soon she was outside, her lungs filling with clear air while her skin warmed under the sun. The woods brought clarity and determination. She tossed her game bag and hid it under a pile of rocks and leaves, and made her way through the foliage, deliberately making noise so the birds and different animals gave her position away. And then she heard it. Boots, marching in unison. Military.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. My home is District twelve. There is no more District twelve. My name and my home don’t matter at all. Peeta is all that matters. Peeta will be safe.

Boots, marching. Hands on the air, over her head. Boots, running. Voices, uniforms, commands muffled inside helmets. Handcuffs around her wrists. The soft leather of a carseat with tainted windows.

A blonde boy, so thin, so bruised, so broken, walking with confusion etched on his features. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.

A needle on her arm, and then nothingness.

Katniss woke up to a series of voices that spoke with a known cadence. The ends of their sentences were high pitched, as if asking a question every time they spoke, and she knew where she was. She allowed herself to smile, in victory. In defeat. He won. He always won.

Looking down, she noticed she was wearing a soft orange dress, and she was surprised when no bout of hysteria threatened to make its way into her consciousness. She only thought Peeta would like the color. In front of her a table was laid, filled with rich food and delicacies. And after what felt like hours, her companion for dinner showed up, looking regal and tired.

Katniss grabbed a spoon, the only utensil in front of her. She laughed.

“I came willingly. And there are no knives here for me to kill you with. We both fulfilled our deal”

Coriolanus listened as she talk about the plan that she had clearly already made. Was this a trap? Had Katniss come up with this plan alone or was this a trick? To try and weaken him and his rule? Not that Katniss wasn't already doing that as the Mockingjay. Her very existence was causing him nothing but trouble across almost every District except the few they still had a very firm stronghold in. Peeta was disposable. He had never particularly wanted the boy, he was just useful. Katniss had always been the one he had his eye on, ever since the Reaping for the 74th Games. He should have just insisted she was killed during the Games but Crane had foolishly allowed it to go so far that it couldn't be stopped without risk of riots even back then. Coriolanus should have risked it then, since he was facing a much more significant problem now across all of Panem. The rebels were not interested in peace. They were interested in baying for blood. His blood specifically. Even if Peeta was capable of becoming a spokesperson for the resistance, it was unlikely most would be prepared to listen to him. It was Katniss that brought them together their her anger and fire. That was what they wanted to feed from, not Peetas 'breaking bread' together strategy. With the Mockingjay in the Capitol, it would weaken the movement considerably. A worthwhile possibility indeed. "Oh Miss Everdeen. I told you not that long ago that I don't want to kill you. What makes you believe your execution is the answer?" Coriolanus knew that executing Katniss would be just about the worst thing he could do right now. He was needed to douse the flames she had created and sent tearing across the nation. Seeing her executed would only fan the flames and become a call to arms for anyone that hadn't already picked up their pitchforks and torches. He didn't hold back the soft chuckle when she threatened him. Even when she knew he had the upper hand here, when he had something she wanted, she left no question about what her intentions were if she got within an arms length of him. Annoyingly, he quite liked her spirit. It would have been much better if she was working for him rather than against him.

"Very well. I will play this game with you Miss Everdeen. I'm willing to exchange Peeta for you. Tomorrow, 3pm, I'll have an entire army of Peacekeepers come to pick you up. You may see Peeta before you come - willingly and we will leave him behind." Coriolanus knew they had little to lose and much to gain. The Peacekeepers were disposable. So was Peeta. It was worth the risk to do the exchange, even if he lost everything. "But Miss Everdeen, make no mistake. If this is a trap, you will not enjoy the consequences. I will ensure Peeta is the first to die and you will be left to linger with the consequences." Coriolanus had learned long ago that death was not the ultimate punishment, in fact it was worse to be left behind.

[theirmockingjay]

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑳𝒀 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  why did you have to leave me?  ❜ ❛  how could you do this to me?  ❜ ❛  i trusted you!  ❜ ❛  i'm sorry, but i can't do this anymore.  ❜ ❛  do you even care how much you hurt me?  ❜ ❛  i'll never stop fighting for us, no matter what.  ❜ ❛  i don't know if i can forgive you.  ❜ ❛  i never thought i'd feel so alone, even when you're right here.  ❜ ❛  please don't go, i can't handle losing you too.  ❜ ❛  you were the one person i thought i could always count on. why did you have to let me down?  ❜ ❛  did you ever even care about us? about me?  ❜ ❛  i wish i could hate you for what you've done, but i can't.  ❜ ❛  why do you always have to play games with my feelings?  ❜ ❛  i never thought saying goodbye would hurt this much.  ❜ ❛  every time i close my eyes, all i see is the pain you've caused.  ❜ ❛  why do you insist on tearing us apart when we could be so happy together?  ❜ ❛  i'm tired of pretending everything's okay when it's clearly not.  ❜ ❛  i don't even know who you are anymore.  ❜ ❛  i need you to understand how much you mean to me.  ❜ ❛  i'm scared of losing you, but i'm even more scared of losing myself.  ❜ ❛  why won't you let me in? what are you so afraid of?  ❜ ❛  you were my world, and now everything is falling apart.  ❜ ❛  how am i supposed to trust anyone after what you've done?  ❜ ❛  i can't go through this heartache again.  ❜ ❛  why did you leave without saying goodbye?  ❜ ❛  how could you say something like that to me?  ❜ ❛  you've always had a way of making me feel worthless.  ❜ ❛  don't you dare walk away from me when i'm talking to you.  ❜ ❛  please, just tell me the truth, even if it hurts. i can handle it.  ❜ ❛  i don't know how to fix what's broken between us anymore.  ❜ ❛  you're not the person i fell in love with anymore.  ❜ ❛  just hold me and tell me everything will be okay, even if it's a lie.  ❜ ❛  i trusted you, and you betrayed me.  ❜ ❛  i never meant to hurt you, it was never my intention.  ❜ ❛  i've given you everything, and it's still not enough.  ❜ ❛  why do you always have to make everything about you?  ❜ ❛  why did you do it? why did you betray me like that?  ❜ ❛  i miss you ... more than words can say.  ❜ ❛  you're the best thing that ever happened to me, and i'm scared of losing you.  ❜ ❛  i'll always be here for you, no matter what. just please don't shut me out.  ❜

[theirmockingjay]

Only by biting the insides of her cheeks she managed to suppress a choking sound that had almost spilled from her mouth. His voice echoed clearly inside the room, bounced off on the walls and seemed to apply pressure on her body, almost coaxing her to curl up into a ball. Snow didn’t get to where he was by being ordinary, after all, and even his voice carried that truth. To her credit, Katniss remained standing, forcing a vacant expression.

It had worked. Her plan, forged with her disoriented mind, had a successful first step. Whatever came next had to be improvised.

“I thought we had an agreement, president Snow. Not to lie to each other”, she said, switching her weight to one leg, “If you don’t trust me, get disposable people to come and get me. You’re not above killing, even children, so if this were to be a trap, there are no real losses if you consider the possibility of caging the mockingjay as a benefit.”

A hand hid inside her pocket where she kept the gifted pearl, and her fingers stroked the surface over and over again, begging for Peeta to lend her his charm, for once. Yet she scowled.

“I’ll come quietly and willingly because you will fulfill your part of the deal. You’ll release Peeta, unharmed, and I’ll sing whatever tune you set for me. You know— you’ve seen what I can do. If I keep being the mockingjay every district will be at your doorstep screaming for your blood. But to have me means the whole idea of the rebellion is discredited. And that’s exactly what you need”, her hand closed into a fist, clutching the pearl, “You’ll release Peeta and you'll vow no harm will be done to him. You can let him become a voice or the resistance… but we both know that while he may be better at talking peace, when it comes to a song of war, I’m the better singer”

She felt odd, speaking at the walls– yet his presence lingered inside the room. Maybe it was his voice that still clutched her heart that felt as it had been shrank to the size of her pearl, maybe it was the lingering scent of his white rose, but for whatever reason she felt as if it was there, as close as he was when he placed the victor crown on her head.

“Tomorrow at noon I’m allowed to go out into the woods near thirteen to hunt. They will detect your hovercrafts but your people will pass unnoticed if they come by foot. I will be unarmed. You will let me see Peeta, and you’ll make sure I see his safe arrival to thirteen. From there, do whatever you want. Kill me there. Take me to the Capitol and execute me publicly. Parade my corpse in every district. Tape me discrediting the rebellion. Do what you do best– remind people that there’s nothing they can do. That they’re hopeless”, Katniss allowed herself to smile, “A piece of advice? Whatever you do to me, make sure I never get the chance to kill you”

Coriolanus Snow was a man that was rarely surprised anymore. He had lived a long life where everything was well thought out, planned and executed with careful precision. It was necessary when one was in the middle of a war and as far as Coriolanus was concerned, he was always at war. His speeches might claim that Panem had known peace for decades but that wasn't true. It was all smoke and mirrors. There were always rebels. Always unsatisfied savages, thinking they could move against his rule of order. There was always District 13 just salivating over a chance to move against the Capitol, just as they had when he was a boy. He had always sworn he would never see a war like that break out again and he was determined to keep that promise to himself. He had been able to achieve that, until she came along. She was a danger, a spark that had start a fire. Not just within District 12, which would have been bad enough. But her flames had spilled over into almost every other District, even the ones they had the firmest control over. He had flattened District 12, but it wasn't nearly enough. The tactical move had created more complications then it had fear across the nation as so many got wind of what he had ordered. He wasn't apologetic for it. District 12 had always been there for a sheer potential it possessed. It was the easiest District to flatten in the event a firm message needed to be sent. It had the fewest citizens. It was the smallest so it was easier to drop bombs on a small scale and while many Districts relied upon coal, the Capitol could get by without fresh supplies, they'd been stockpiling for decades. He had wanted her after the 75th Games but he'd had to settle for Peeta instead. He could certainly be useful to him. He had been popular enough during the Games, playing the role of the love sick fool so perfectly as if it could somehow save them from the Capitols power. His torture had been long and arduous but it had gotten results. Peeta wouldn't cooperate willingly and refusal wasn't an option. The boy knew that now. He annoyingly reminded him so much of Sejanus that even he had to walk away when the boy had started those sickening screams. He had wondered what Katniss would do, once she learned what he had done to Peeta. He had no expected her to return to the Victors Village and call out that she was willing to take Peetas place. Perhaps he should have. He had been left without a doubt that she loved that foolish boy. The last Games had shown him that because no one could feign that type of hysteria when she had thought she had lost him. He looked at the screen, seeing that she was standing by the desk where he had left the rose for her to find. Clever girl. She had known they were monitoring the house. He had been certain she would return there at some point and there she was, offering herself up as bait. It was all too delightful and all too easy. Was she playing a game with him? "That's quite the offer Miss Everdeen." He knew his voice would be filling the room that she in. What to do, what to do? To take her now could start a riot across the Districts. They all looked to her to lead them and he knew they would know he had kidnapped her. Peeta was a casualty that could easily be lost and barely mourned but no one would view Miss Everdeen that way. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe that you'll simply come quietly or willingly."

[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.

[theirmockingjay]

sb: hey vic what did you miss the most about rping kat? me, unfazed: caleb.