czache78

[czache78]

Maysilee: why are we going north?

Haymitch:

[czache78]

sunrise on the reaping is such a tragedy because it’s the very definition of right person, wrong time. there were so many people in haymitch’s life that would have been a part of the rebellion if they had the chance. ampert. maysilee. lenore dove. each of them, had they survived, could maybe have been the mockingjay. they were already on their way there. (blowing up the water tank plan, mockingjay pin and the poster, and getting arrested for rebellious acts and vandalizing respectively.)

but they didn’t survive. all because haymitch tried to rebel. ampert and maysilee didn’t ever get out of the arena, and lenore dove was poisoned before any of them could do anything. and haymitch wasn’t about to rebel again because he knows what happens when you do. which just shows snow’s complete control over everything. he basically squashed the beginning of the first rebellion and it didn’t happen again until years later… the 50th games was honestly probably the closest they’d come to a rebellion until katniss.

[czache78]

lenore dove never found out about haymitch trying to flood the arena btw.

[czache78]

there’s a quote in a series of unfortunate events and i think it gives sotr/haymitch vibes:

“I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything go wrong”

[czache78]

when the movie comes out someone needs to make a haymitch edit to the winner takes it all btw.

[czache78]

Post Mockingjay Headcanon:

Katniss can never tell when a popular song is about sex until it’s pointed out to her.

And Peeta (plus Haymitch) relentlessly makes fun of her for this.

[czache78]

After looking at the fanart for Sotr I realised the only person I imagined correctly was Lenore dove.

[czache78]

Ballad of a Baldmitch 🤭

I don’t remember agreeing to this.

Actually, that’s a lie. I do remember agreeing to it, but I was half asleep and Maysilee was waving a bag of gummy worms in my face, which—if you know me—is basically emotional manipulation. Also, I didn’t think the bet would matter. The NBA Finals? Who cares? I don’t know anything about basketball. I picked my team because their mascot was a bird with attitude and I thought that was funny.

But now it’s 11:56 p.m., we’re hunched over a bowl of popcorn in her basement, and I care deeply. I care more than I’ve ever cared about anything. Because four minutes ago, Maysilee turned to me, eyes glowing like she was an evil mastermind in a rom-com, and said:

“If I win, I get to do whatever I want to your hair. No hats. No wigs. You go to school like that.”

I scoffed. I’m not afraid of scissors. I told her, “Fine. But same goes for you.”

She didn’t even flinch. She just smiled like she was already picturing me bald and weeping.

Now there’s five seconds on the clock, the game is tied, and I’m gripping the popcorn bowl like it’s a flotation device and I’m about to drown.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter. “Miss the shot. Miss it. Blow it. Trip. Explode. Something.”

Maysilee’s sitting so still it’s unnatural. Her eyes are laser-focused on the screen. I’ve never seen her this serious, and she once took a science quiz with the intensity of someone trying to defuse a bomb.

Three seconds. The guy with the man bun on her team is dribbling.

Two.

He steps back.

One.

He shoots.

The ball arcs. Everyone in the arena holds their breath. The camera angle shifts. It’s soaring. It’s spinning. It’s—

Swish.

Nothing but net.

The room goes silent. My soul leaves my body. I can hear Maysilee inhale like she’s about to burst—

“YESSSSS!” she screams, flinging popcorn into the air like she’s in a 90s movie montage. “OH MY GOD! HAYMITCH! GET THE CLIPPERS!”

“No,” I say, because denial is the first stage of grief and I stomp my foot.

“Yes,” she grins, already grabbing her pink glittery tote bag. “I’ve been planning for this.”

“You planned?” I squawk, standing up so fast I knock over the popcorn bowl. “You planned to ruin me?!”

“You planned to give me a mullet if you won,” she points out.

“That’s because mullets are hilarious and educational. They teach people about the dangers of bad choices.”

She’s not listening. She’s already halfway up the stairs. I follow, dragging my feet like a man on death row.

⸻

We end up in her bathroom. The mirror is foggy from her scented diffuser and there’s a stack of fashion magazines on the toilet like we’re in a weird teenage salon-slash-library.

She flicks on the vanity light. I squint at myself in the mirror.

“Well,” I sigh, plopping onto the stool she dramatically spins around like a villain about to monologue. “Make it quick. Just shave it, get it over with.”

She hums cheerfully as she plugs in the clippers. “Buzz cut first.”

“See?” I say. “This isn’t so bad. Buzz cuts are respectable. Soldiers have buzz cuts. Movie stars. Gym teachers.”

She flicks them on with a dramatic bzzzzzt and goes to town. Hair rains down like confetti. It’s oddly soothing. I close my eyes and think about moving to a remote island where no one has ever heard of basketball or high school.

Then she stops. The buzzing clicks off.

“Okay, all done,” she says sweetly.

I open one eye. I look in the mirror. Honestly?

“…Not terrible,” I admit. “I look like an angsty, misunderstood indie singer.”

“I’m not done yet,” she says.

My stomach drops. “What?”

Schlunk.

That’s the sound of shaving cream being pumped out of a bottle. My reflection goes pale.

“Maysilee.”

She’s shaking the razor dramatically like she’s in a Gillette commercial.

“Maysilee, no.”

“I told you,” she grins. “Whatever I want.”

“I thought we agreed to the Geneva Convention.”

“We did not.”

I consider bolting. Running. Faking a seizure. But she’s between me and the door, and she’s holding a blade.

I sigh and tip my head back like I’m about to be sacrificed to the gods.

⸻

Ten minutes later, I am bald.

Not just “short hair” bald.

I am Mr. Clean bald. I am “egg with anxiety” bald. My head is a cue ball with trust issues.

And just when I think it’s over—just when I start accepting my fate—Maysilee pulls out a tiny zippered pouch and unzips it with terrifying glee.

“What is that?” I demand.

She holds it up like a trophy. “Bedazzles.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Maysilee, we are not in a Disney Channel Original Movie. You are not Raven. I am not sparkly.”

“You will be.”

She goes to work before I can argue. I feel cold stick-on gems being pressed into my scalp like I’m being transformed into a human disco ball.

“Stop moving,” she scolds.

“I’m flinching in protest!”

“Shhh. It’s art.”

⸻

When she’s done, I open my eyes and look in the mirror.

“…You gave me a rhinestone crown,” I whisper.

“Yup,” she beams. “And glitter eyebrows.”

“I look like I lost a fight with a unicorn.”

“You look stunning.”

“I look like a bedazzled toe.”

She pats my shoulder. “Haymitch, tomorrow at school, everyone is going to stare at you.”

“Because I look like their nightmares gained sentience.”

“Because you’re shining.”

I groan. “I’m going to get shoved into so many lockers. And not even normal bullying. Like, creative bullying. Someone’s going to write a song about this. A diss track.”

She’s laughing so hard she almost falls over.

“I hate basketball,” I mutter.

“You just hate losing.”

“You gave me glitter sideburns.”

“You’re welcome.”

The next day at school

There are exactly 3,792 tiles on the floor of my school’s main hallway.

I know this because I am staring directly at them and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

I can feel the eyes. I can hear the whispers. I can smell the fear—and by fear, I mean the overpowering scent of hair gel and teenage judgment.

“Is he… sparkly?”

“Why is his head glowing?”

“Did a drag queen curse him?”

“Bro looks like a glittery potato.”

I pull the hood of my sweatshirt tighter over my head like that’s gonna save me. It doesn’t. My scalp is so smooth it reflects the fluorescent lighting. I am a walking disco ball. A bald, humiliated, freshly-bedazzled disco ball.

Thanks, Maysilee.

I’m in my bald era, and I hate it here.

⸻

First period: physics. The teacher literally stops mid-equation, blinks at me, and says, “Wow. That’s… new.”

Second period: gym. The coach makes me take off my hood for “safety reasons.” Safety for who, Coach?! My baldness is not a threat unless someone slips on the glitter trail I leave behind!

Third period: math. Some demon child two rows over keeps whispering, “Shine bright like a diamond” every five minutes and I can feel my soul leaving my body.

By the time lunch rolls around, I’m this close to fake crying in the bathroom and texting my mom to pick me up because I “accidentally got sick”

Instead, I shuffle into the cafeteria like a slug.

My friends are already at our usual table, and as soon as they see me, they erupt into a harmony of gasps, laughter, and table-slapping.

“OH MY GOD,” Panache cackles. “He actually came to school like that.”

“Did you lose a duel?” Ampert asks.

I flop into the seat like a pancake giving up on life.

“Haymitch,” Silka chokes out between laughs, “what happened to your head?”

“I’m glad you asked,” I say bitterly, waving one fry in the air like I’m giving a toast. “Last night, I made the grave mistake of watching the NBA Finals with Maysilee Donner. I lost a bet. And in return, I lost my hair. My pride. My scalp. And my will to live.”

Panache is wheezing. “You let her shave you bald?”

“No,” I snap. “I let her give me a buzz cut. Then she got this look in her eyes—this evil sparkle—and said, ‘I’m not done yet.’ Next thing I know I’m Mr. Clean’s glittery cousin.”

Silka leans forward, blinking. “Wait, is that—” she squints— “a bedazzled crown on your head?!”

“Yes,” I say. “And glitter eyebrows. And sideburn sparkles. I’m like if a drag queen and a thumb had a baby.”

And that’s when Silka loses it. Like full-on laughing so hard she almost spills her water bottle.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, pointing at me. “You look like that baby from Cocomelon!”

The table explodes.

Panache nearly falls out of his chair. Ampert starts hiccup-laughing. Even Wellie, who is quiet and sweet, snorts into her chocolate milk.

I slam my hand down. “OKAY. First of all, I am not a Cocomelon baby.”

“You’re exactly the Cocomelon baby,” Silka says, tears in her eyes.

“Second of all, I take comfort knowing you could never survive this, Silka,” I say, grinning through my suffering. “You’d cry if someone even looked at your shiny shampoo commercial hair with scissors.”

Everyone goes ooOOOOOooohh like I just dropped the mic at a roast battle.

Silka’s hand shoots to her waist-length blonde hair like it’s her firstborn child.

“Excuse me,” she says, offended. “I would not cry.”

“You totally would,” Panache says. “You’d sob like that one time your curling iron broke.”

“That was a bad day, okay?!”

“She’d fake an illness just to get out of the haircut,” I add. “Walk into school in a neck brace, talking about how she ‘can’t risk it.’”

Silka rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

“Well, you look like a baby joined a boy band,” she fires back.

“Thanks,” I say. “Tell your mom I said hi.”

Ampert wheezes. “You guys are unhinged.”

I grin, flicking a sparkle off my forehead. “I’m just saying, Silka. You lose a bet next time. I’m breaking out the buzzers.”

Silka clutches her hair like it’s about to be taken from her. “Over my dead, shampooed body.”

⸻

Lunch ends, but the jokes don’t.

People keep patting me on the head like I’m their emotional support egg. Some girl asks if I’m trying out for the “bald TikTok trend.” One teacher—ONE TEACHER—called me “glamorous.”

Honestly?

Miserable.

Horrible.

10/10 worst day of school ever.

But I’m still plotting my revenge.

Maysilee Donner… your hairbrush won’t know what hit it.

[czache78]

SOTR Fic Recs

There are tragically very few Sunrise on the Reaping fics, but I wanted to share my favourites.

Haydove fics

All I've Ever Known Is How to Hold My Own by arsenicfortea - Lenore Dove's time in the district 12 prison

*✴︎+ the law locks up the man or woman who steals the goose from off the common +✴︎* by retrowitchy - Lenore Dove’s POV of getting arrested and getting Haymitch’s call (Slightly canon-divergent as Lenore Dove was arrested before the interviews but really good fic, love her characterisation)

nothing but a memory by mirrorofliterature - Haymitch dies in the games but Lenore Dove lives

Sweet Old Hereafter by luviuna - Lenore Dove pov of the games, so much haydove I love it

The Wrong Gumball by LifeThruMyLegs - Haymitch eats the gumdrops instead of Lenore Dove (The author mistakenly uses Gumballs tho)

Polly Rose by funlildude - everybody lives, features Haydove being adorable and their wild child Polly Rose

Blazing Desire by funlildude - haydove fluffy, first time and sexual exploration (does contain quite a bit of smut, but I love their characterisation in this fic)

each separate dying ember by Millennium_Girl - groundhog die of Lenore Doves death, I usually dislike Groundhog Day fics, but it’s from Lenore Doves pov and I love the descent into madness and how it compares to Haymitch’s at the end of sotr.

*✴︎+ the geese +✴︎* by retrowitchy - Lenore Dove’s geese are born, very fluffy with Haydove being cute

Afterlife fics

Forty Days to Heaven by luviuna - haymitch dies and there is a 40 day walk to heaven, where he reunited with everyone he has lost - very fluffy and angsty

I am not the only traveler, who has not repaid his debt by MoNsTeRsAmOnGMeN - Haymitch dies and meets his loved ones again (ft Beetee and Ampert reunion)

Angst fics

All Those Layers of Silence Upon Silence by WetRatMan - Haymitch not coping (ft hallucinations)

Murderers All Around by ReesieReads - Angsty Lou Lou dying fic, from her POV

Lest We Die Unbloomed by lelysdelune - Angsty Finnick and Haymitch fic, (Haymitch being the parent he was meant to be)

Waiting Drives You Crazy by WeLiveWeLearnWeDie - Haymitch in the cage (tw dehumanisation and non-consensual groping)

Living in an Empty World by melodymoony by Sid’s POV after Haymitch leaves District 12 for the 50th Hunger Games.

Loose Cannons fics

the oddsmaker and the replacement by BlackPlasticRoses - Wyatt quietly adopting Lou Lou

The Rascal and the Shrew by ultraviolet_luves_converse - Haymitch having a nightmare in the arena (ft Him and Maysilee being siblings)

(Restricted) Let's get out of here by Blues_stuff - (The tributes of the Second Quarter Quell are evacuated and flown to District 13, and everything that ensues) (everybody lives, except Louella sorry)

Louella's Stars by luviuna - Everybody who lost Louella mourning her (Includes her family and Sid’s POV)

Burdock (and Asterid) fics

Victory Suits the Dead by winterspecs - Lenore Dove lives and Burdock gets reaped for the 51st games

Not Burdock's Blame But Mine by type40_thete - Burdock could never give up on Haymitch entirely.

feelin' it now (just like you did) by serendipitysirius - Asterid falling into grief (explores her understanding Merrilee and Haymitch’s grief)

Haymitch + Everlark fics

Nothing Changes Anyhow by CloudedRose - The exploration of how Haymitch’s would associate hijacked peeta with Lou Lou + plus everlark finding out

and you showed me a place i'll find, even when i'm old by teutonic27 - Haymitch being introduced to the memory book

Crack fics

saving panem one milk carton at a time, a guide by haymitch abernathy by backpacks-lite (TumblingBackpacks) Snow dies in plutarchs house, incredibly funny (I love haymitch in this fic)

snake lands on top (aka the odds are in no one’s favor but clemensia’s) by TumblingBackpacks - Clemensia is Lou Lou’s snake and fucking murks snow

[czache78]

rip haymitch abernathy you would’ve loved bob dylan

rip lenore dove baird you would’ve loved the crane wives and fleetwood mac

[czache78]

Haymitch and his ducklings

[czache78]

"it's america day" no it's haymitch's birthday thank you very much

(tip jar! // comms status)

[czache78]

Friendly reminder that George Bladgen is the captain of this ship

[czache78]

guys hear me out aroacespec johnny castle. hear me out— *gunshots*

[czache78]

remembering that time i made a newsies cinderella au but with queerplatonic ralbert as the prince and cinderella, javey as jean-michel and gabrielle, and medda as the fairy godmother 🙂‍↕️

[czache78]

So hypothetically what if Lenore Dove didn’t end up getting poisoned by the candy? Obviously Snow would want to tie up all loose ends/ruin Haymitch’s life, but what do we think he would do about it? Specifically, would he pick her for next year’s reaping?

On one hand, imagine what Haymitch would have to go through mentoring his girlfriend and watching her die, knowing he can do nothing about it. That would be even worse for him, and thus an even better outcome for Snow.

On the other hand, would it be too risky to reap her? Snow probably does have some indication that she’s a bit of a rebel, and with Haymitch already trying to break the games, would it be too much of a risk to the Games, especially with both of them together?

So like,,, what do we think ??

[czache78]

maybe i am reading into things bc i am insane and mitchell pritchett means a lot to me but mitchell's smile in the intro gets bigger and his movements more confident and flamboyant. i just think it's a lovely representation of his character growth in how he becomes more confident and unapologetic in who he is

maybeeee im doing too much and it's a coincidence but even so it is dear to me:p