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So, after

Tiny Peeta POV "so after" drabble

@rosegardeninwinter and @triassictriserratops are to blame for this getting yanked out of my head

I look at her flushed cheeks and awe struck eyes in total euphoria. Something shifts in her expression and it’s a familiar look, something both soft and knowing, long suffering and friendly. It’s a look I’ve seen a thousand times from her. This morning, last week, in the quell, in her kitchen, on the train. I can’t think of when I first saw that particular gaze, it’s become such second nature to accept it with a grin or a squeeze of the hand. For her to be here, naked in my arms with the red stain of pleasure still hot on her cheeks, and look at me the way she’s always looked at me… it’s…

Oh what a fool I’ve been. 

How much time have I wasted gifting her space that she didn’t ask for? How long have I ignored those looks, made excuses for intimacies, reasoned away every stubborn, reckless act of self sacrifice? My memories of the quell are some of the hardest to sort through, but I know at least that we were in disagreement on who should make it home. Did I know then, and just lost the memory? Or did I push it down because I didn’t want to see it when I knew I wouldn’t make it back? 

Katniss dips her head to lay a petal soft kiss on my collar bone. How did I not notice? 

“You love me,” I breathe in realization. In shock. In shame for ignoring it all this time. “Real or not real?” 

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and I watch my words settle over her. She smiles. 

“Real.” 

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the difference between Haymitch and Katniss's narration is so funny. Haymitch would give us everyone's social security number if he knew them, while Katniss wouldn't even tell us her mom's name.

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The mockingbird, the jabberjay and the mockingjay 🕊️ inspired by this post by @fromevertonow

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i’m so appreciative to suzanne for reframing the rebellion from the original trilogy as a “they saw their moment and took it” type situation and showing us that they’ve been trying, over and over, with so many failed attempts, to break the arena and incite a rebellion for decades. in this current political climate never giving up hope is so essential. haymitch wasn’t the first nor the last, and they kept going even when it seemed completely futile, and that’s what counts, and what ultimately saves them all.

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i love how suzanne just gives us a little treat by mentioning the katniss plant every book. like here u go. ik u miss our girl. she's fine. enjoy lowercase katniss

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i love you like all-fire

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Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

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literally gasped

I'll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out

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peeta: breathes

katniss, internally: hm. interesting. strategic. emotionally destabilizing. soft. fluffy. uncalled for.

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heyyyyy…

long time no see! do you remember me? is anyone out there?

the semester is done, and i’m out for the summer. took my last exam this morning, actually. in the spirit of being done and finally free, i have a few little feeler questions.

1. would you want more fanfic?? peeta specifically, but i’m not opposed to other characters… i did read sunrise on the reaping after all.

2. if i were, hypothetically, working on a sort of AU fanfic that didn’t start as a fanfic… maybe katniss x reader… wlw… first person… how would we feel about that?

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The problem I’ve had with people saying that Peeta forced Katniss into having kids is not only that it ignores a lot of explicit things in the text (Katniss only not wanting kids because of the games, Peeta not even wanting to force her into being married to him) but also some of the subtext of Peeta’s background, and maybe even some parallels with Katniss’s parents.

Now I may be looking into this way too much but it was always intriguing to me that even though Katniss’s mom chose her father over Peeta’s father(implying that they got together before Peeta’s parents), it’s Peeta’s parents who have two kids before Katniss is born. Based on Peeta having one brother eligible to volunteer for him and the other couldn��t, the minimum for the age difference between them would be three years. So that’s a minimum of three years between the Mellarks and Everdeens having kids. So did Mr. Mellark just jump into a relationship, get married, and have kids after his heart was broken because that’s just what people do? Based on what Katniss thinks it doesn’t seem like Peeta had parents who love each other during most of the course of their marriage. Total conjecture, but between that and having an abusive mom who probably felt like a second choice, there’s literally no reason for Peeta to ever want anyone to be forced into a marriage or having kids. He’s lived the life of kids who have to deal with the consequences of adults making forced insincere choices. He would never want to have children unless their mother and father could cultivate a happy environment.

Which really makes for a lovely parallel that Katniss and Peeta do wait for a bit to have kids just like her parents did. Because they chose to have kids when they wanted to and then proceeded to raise a family that had parents that adored each other with kids that felt wanted, just like Katniss’s family.

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Peeta: *crying cus he got picked for LITERAL DEATH GAMES*

Katniss: is this a strategy?

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stop it this is so cute but also did tear up ngl

Haymitch and The Old There-before

So a little bit ago, I told @rosegardeninwinter (i think it was you) not to “get me started on Haymitch and his children”

Here’s the result of that sentiment, with an inspiration from my obsession with TBOSAS music.

You're headed for heaven

The sweet old hereafter

And I've got one foot in the door

But before I can fly up

I've loose ends to tie up

Right here, in the old there-before

17 years old.

Before mentoring his first pair of District 12 victims, his nightmares cycle between the light fading out of Maysilee’s eyes, and finding his mother, brother, and his girl covered in blood in his bedroom.

Maybe if he drinks he’ll fade to the old hereafter with them. The sweet melody his mom would sing to him as she hung the laundry or stroked his hair by the fire.

Snow won’t let him go yet, but he sure does have one foot in the door.

And I'll be along

When I've finished my song

When I've shut down the band

When I've played out my hand

When I've paid all my debts

When I have no regrets

Right here, in the old there-before

When nothing is left anymore

25 years old

Something keeps him fighting for the usually measly Seam kids that get thrown in his care year after year. Maybe, just maybe, one will win. One will win and his job can be done.

He owes it to them. The only people he ever loved. Maybe their deaths will mean something if one of those kids can win.

He yells commands as he sits in a chair guzzling white liquor, watching the newest little one train with a spear. She’s good, but not good enough. A sword is buried into her chest on the second day.

Six die of dehydration.

Four of starvation.

He never is given any money to send to them, and he can’t use his own.

Two die from mutts.

One drowns.

One gets bashed in the head with a brick.

Another eats poison.

One falls off of a cliff.

One dies of infection.

He remembers all of their names. But this is the last year he will.

And I'll catch you up

When I've emptied my cup

When I've worn out my friends

When I've burned out both ends

When I've cried all my tears

When I've conquered my fears

Right here, in the old there-before

When nothing is left anymore

32 years old

He’s no longer afraid to completely drown himself in drink. The 30 dead children he’s mentored fade from memory with each sip. There is nothing left. His heart is stomped down, his tear ducts are empty.

But something, just something, keeps him alive.

The small flicker of hope that something could change. That a tribute could come along and win. They might not radicalize the games, but at least he wouldn’t be a lone mentor anymore.

Despite being intoxicated till the room blurs on most days, he still pays attention. There are murmurs of revolution, but it is not time.

And I'll bring the news

When I've danced off my shoes

When my body's closed down

When my boat's run aground

When I've tallied the score

And I'm flat on the floor

Right here, in the old there-before

When nothing is left anymore

40 years old

No tribute has had the power to catch his eye like this. A volunteer. A volunteer in District 12? A starving Seam child, no less.

And the boy. He’s strong, and his tearful eyes still gleam with a bit of charm.

Just as he was about to give up completely- as the murmurs of rebellion slowed and he faded more and more into oblivion, they arrive.

Not only do they catch his eye, but the eye of President Snow- and that drives him to seek revenge with his two embers: a charming bakers boy and a songbird turned hunter.

She reminds him of himself. Hardened by Capitol cruelty with only a mind of survival for herself and her family.

The boy, however, reminds him of his girl. Steady, but peaceful. Knowing every move of every person in the room. He cares about others deeply and has hope in everyone but himself.

So when the boy tells him he’s been in love with the hunter since they were kids, it stabs him with both grief and an idea.

He can work with this. He can create a story. He can make them catch the eyes of all of Panem. Create two Capitol darlings that could both distract and maybe tear down the entire system. But he can’t think like that. Not yet.

He trains them hard and with intention, talking about fires and food over breakfast, and finding water and knife skills over dinner.

But he still keeps them at an arms length. He found out a long time ago that the Capitol kills anything he loves.

But they slowly chip away at that distance.

The pride he feels when the girl fires an arrow at the Gamemakers could have melted snow.

When the boy captures the Capitol audience with just a smile and a joke about showers, he knows he’s a prideful mess of a drunk.

When they both survive the bloodbath at Cornucopia- they simultaneously run him ragged and make him feel like he can soar.

He told the boy to spice up the “act”, but he knows the girl loves him back. What can he say, she’s just like him.

He gets to do what he’s never done before- talk to sponsors and send gifts upon gifts of food and medicine.

He watches as they take the arena by storm with strategy, humility, love, and resilience.

But the further they get into the Games, the more he struggles to think of a way to save both of them.

The girl shows him that she really is like him, but maybe smarter (though he would never admit that) as she pulls out the berries.

He could have torn the whole place down out of happiness when they won.

But that all came crashing down as he realized he created what he creates best: people he loves who are hated by the Capitol because of him.

So then comes the endless dance of trying to protect them- because now the game of mentor really never ends.

They are both alive and in danger by his own hand.

When I'm pure like a dove

When I've learned how to love

Right here, in the old there-before

When nothing is left anymore

42 years old

Somehow, they all survived.

The guilt nearly killed him as the boy was tortured in the Capitol.

And when he watched the girl fade faster and faster without him and with a new monster instead.

He saw himself. He saw how he was broken when the Capitol used the love of his life to garner control.

That scared him more than ever.

So he fought for her behind the scenes in late night meetings, kept her fed and on meds, and held her when he was allowed to.

Had he not been able to focus on her and the war efforts, he would have faded too.

Because long gone was the charming bakers boy that reminded him of his girl.

When it was all set and done, the guilt of what he had put them through kept him alone in his own house. But as things grew warmer and all of them healed, he realized that maybe that’s what being a parent was. Astonishing guilt coupled with pride, longing, and the willingness to rebuild.

But what did he know? He wasn’t a parent…

So nearly 25 years later, when he’s old and grey, and a new little one starts asking questions, he has an answer.

“Papa Haymitch, the teachers at school started talking about the war. How did you and Mama and Daddy survive it?”

“Love, little one. Love, and hope, and a lot of resilience- the willingness to keep going and fighting for what’s right. Your parents taught me how to love again. And if we didn’t have each other, we wouldn’t have made it, precious.”

Right here, in the old there-before.

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"So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent. [...] And right when your song ended, I knew—just like your mother—I was a goner.” [Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins]

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doing my homework (damn you summer classes) but i may or may not be around 4k unedited…

it’s a slow writing day ig but i am getting the urge again which is good

currently sitting at 2.7k words in chapter 8…

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currently sitting at 2.7k words in chapter 8…