#and she and finnick teach kids how to make them

[solar-halos]

O-O-O-O-des-taaaaa…….i think they should have a jingle similar to the tune of “O O O O Reilly auto parts song, but I literally can’t think of the words that could rhyme/replace so feel free to add in. Also if Odesta owned a small business to support and give back to the community post revolution what would you imagine that would be? And in this universe finnick is still alive dammit

omggg i literally can't think of anything other than fiestaaa. so like "o-o-o-desta... loves a fiesta" but that doesn't fit in with the tune :( odesta nation please help us out

also i LOVE this question omg. my knee jerk reaction is to say annie makes crochet stuff, but i think that stuff would be kinda impractical for Four (even if she used bamboo yarn) but i can see her putting her sewing skills to use! like for example i think they'd mend jeans by using things like old table cloth or just scrap pieces of fabric and jumpstart a trend in Four where it is not only socially acceptable to walk around with funkily patched jeans, but something thats really trendy and cool! (which i know sounds silly bc theyre literally recovering from a war but i think people would be like "ew :/ get ur money up not ur funny up" after some time has gone by). but this is severely overestimating their likability lol, in my mind i like to think that a lot of people actually liked annie (because shes a diva) and then were like "okay... i guess we like your bum ass boyfriend too" after the war (bc he IS alive goddammit!! youre right)

omg! and then as for finnick (bc i forgot to talk about him) i think he has a knack for pottery! so he makes a ton of bowls and cups and stuff and annie decorates them <3 also maybe this isnt giving back to the community in a traditional sense but i like to imagine that he gets really into balloon art and makes little snakes and dogs and stuff for the kids in 4

and then, before i end this off, i retract my statement about annie not finding use for crochet! i imagine during storming season that everyone just wants to stay warm, so i can def see her crocheting/knitting beanies and gloves and socks and stuff like that and she and finnick give them away to sailors and stuff!

[introspectivememories]

thinking bout 14yr finnick winning the games and thinking about the victors+effie looking at this child and going "fuuuuck!!! guess we're co-parenting now"

[suicidesquadforeveryall]

Hunger Games Headcannons

(Finnick, Mags, Wiress, Prim, etc all live for my happiness and sanity so deal with it)

-Haymitch can play the guitar, nothing crazy, just simple tunes and songs. Effie loves to watch him and finds him playing the guitar with a concentrated look on his face incredibly handsome.

-Mags helped Annie deliver Aiden. When Finnick and Annie asked her to be their son’s Godmother she began to cry and of course said yes.

-Effie begins designing clothes. She designed Katniss’s wedding dress (for her actual wedding) and fixes Haymitch’s clothes. Local seamstress baby!

-Johanna gets a therapy dog which she was reluctant with at first, but after the first time the dog comforted her after a nightmare they grew on her and she loves it to death. Thick as thieves.

-Mags has knitted sweaters, blankets, coasters, etc for all the Victor’s.

-Wiress and Beetee have one or a few cats, with artificial limbs and majority named by Wiress.

-Peeta making wedding, anniversary, birthday, etc cakes & treats for friends like he did for Annie and Finnick

-Prim’s first real and non-traumatic job is working at the Bakery with Peeta

-Enobaria filed down her teeth at some point, knowing she wouldn’t need them anymore (maybe even kept her incisors sharp, so looks like she has fangs)

-Caesar sent out hand written letters to all the Victor’s.

-Prim has given all of the Victor’s and Katniss’s other allies little hand made things (drawing, bracelet, etc).

-Johana being the cool AF aunt towards Aiden, and the Everlark kids, also being the aunty that gets away with everything and teaches them things like how to punch properly

-I feel it in my left kidney that someone at some point asked Katniss to shoot an apple that was balanced on their head.

-Haymitch had many animals including his geese, a dog or two, a cat or two, all of which are his children and most named after people he cares about

-The Mellark Fam has chickens and a rooster named Haymitch (The real Haymitch was not pleased)

-Haymitch and Effie being asked by Katniss and Peeta to be the Everlark kids godparents.

-Effie being so excited, beaming, clapping like a little kid and Haymitch trying not to cry, both say yes of course.

-Haymitch walks Katniss down the isle and gives a speech

-Johanna wittles little wooden things as a hobby and gives them out

-Reunions on Hunger Games anniversary and Christmas/holiday get togethers

-Wiress takes up painting or another form of art which Beetee happily (and proudly) keeps and sets where he can always look at them.

[allisluv]

mmmm hi pookie i just wanna have some thoughts about shy!wifey and finnick bc she’s so me core😣😣 just like cute little thoughts on like their day to day lives and all that xx🫶🫶

hi queen! this took me a good few days to actually get around to mb. anyway here are some of my thoughts!! there isn't too many but trust there's more on the way 🫡

★ when shy!wifey and finnick move in together, he lets her have full creative freedom, which is honestly both a blessing and a curse. shy!wifey has too many ideas and she's also a very indecisive person in general which results in every room in their apartment having a different style. johanna often says it looks like a pinterest bomb hit it and not in a good way.

★ shy!wifey consumes poetry like it's what she gets paid for. her favourites are sylvia plath and emily dickinson.

★ shy!wifey is also an avid lover of anything vintage! she has a large collection of fat, chunky rings and necklaces and she also loves penny lane coats; she has one in every colour of the rainbow and she spent a good portion of her game winnings on them.

★ as i've mentioned before, shy!wifey's father was a fisherman, which is why it's kind of ironic that she didn't learn to swim until finnick taught her when they were twenty. i know she's from four but i feel like she had a bad experience with water as a child and it kind of made her terrified of the ocean. finnick helps her find her love for the ocean and swimming.

★ shy!wifey is constantly baking and finnick is her taste tester. she makes cakes for birthdays and heart shaped cookies for valentines day.

★ shy!wifey loves animals and insects. she's like a modern day giselle from the movie enchanted. her dream is to open an animal shelter. she and finnick have at least three dogs and two cats at all times. maybe a couple of fish and rabbits, too. i don't know, i just know their house is like a farm at times /pos.

★ shy!wifey would have knitting nights with mags. well, actually, i think mags would knit and shy!wifey would crochet but idk the difference man. they make the cutest things and eventually, shy!wifey ropes finnick into joining, too --- i say "ropes in". all she did was bat her lashes and he tagged along because man is whipped.

★ post-war finnick and shy!wifey set up activities on the beach for the children who survived the war. finnick teaches the kids how to surf, swim and do water-activities, while shy!wifey teaches them how to craft jewellery out of shells, how to build sand castles and about the different sea animals.

[triassictriserratops]

I just know Peeta is one day going to realize that Katniss legitimately finds him physically more attractive than everyone else. Like in the books it’s literally “Gale looks handsome I guess” and she acknowledges that Finnick is good looking. But Peeta literally gets paragraphs of devotion and loving attention.

And Peeta wouldn’t believe it but he also thinks nothing in the world is more lovely than Katniss Everdeen

I've said it once (84 times) and I'll say it a thousand times (1084 times) I want Peeta to find out how absolutely loved, wanted, desired, admired and adored he is by Katniss. I want them to lay on some grass when he catches her staring at him and he asks her why and she says she's watching his eyelashes when he blinks. I want them to be working at moving rubble in town and he takes off his shirt and uses the shirt to wipe sweat off his brow. And then he glances over to Katniss and she is STARING at him. Eyes like fucking dinner plates. He thinks he actually catches her biting her lip. I want them to lay in bed together after a hard day and he's completely wiped. Falls asleep with his prosthesis on. He wakes up to find that she took it off for him, rubbed a mint ointment on his sore stump, got him out of his pants and button down, and tucked him in. I want him to get into a fake, fun argument with Sae and some of the other Seam folk. And they're lovingly hassling him and he's giving and taking it in turn and Katniss is just BEAMING at the scene because of how accepted he is by "her" folk. I want him to run a little class where he teaches kids how to bake (always with an adult present) so they can make their own treats at home. And Katniss always makes sure to time her visits so she can watch the end of the class because something about seeing Peeta sweetly tell these children how wonderful their creations were and lets them all go home with a free cookie - it makes her heart want to burst. And he looks up at her and sees this look in her eyes. And he knows exactly what that look is, but he wants to hear it from her - he NEEDS to hear it from her.

Anon, he's going to know. And she's going to spend the rest of her life loving him with her entire SOUL. I believe this fully. 💚🌻🧡🌻

[amber-laughs]

this might not be fair but can i say i’m not really a fan of the “victors found family” trope bc they don’t really seem to all like each other.

in fics, and it’s no hate bc everybody should play around with canon however they want i’m just venting because i've only been in the fandom like a week and a half, people seem to really enjoy the idea that the victors who’ve been sex trafficked are really close and look out for each other, usually Cashmere, Gloss and Finnick. but those three specifically are trying to kill each other pretty quick in the Quell and Finnick specifically tells Katniss not to trust them and i personally think that makes a lot more sense if we realistically look at their situation. groomers and predators will always try to isolate their victims and Snow especially uses this tactic with his Victors.

he takes out their families and makes them live in isolated neighborhoods. It wouldn’t shock me if there was a lot of drama, grudges and bad blood within the victors/mentors circle because that’s how Snow operates. It’s pretty implied that Johanna was supposed to be trafficked but wouldn’t comply and that’s how her family died, that also perfectly coincides with she and Finnick maintaining a close relationship. If the sex trafficking ring is purposefully being pit against each other, say Gloss is getting extra work and Snow lies and says it’s bc Finnick has to be home to take care of Annie or Enobaria is getting easier jobs than Cashmere and Snow lies and says it’s bc Enobaria specifically asked to switch some with Cash now he’s purposefully and very easily (bc they’re legit teenagers at first) creating bad blood and distrust between them just like Katniss says he does with people living in districts (ie Gale blaming Madge for not having her name in extra times bc she doesn’t need tesserae) it would be almost impossible for a healthy friendship to develop and evolve while still in the middle of it.

“Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine.” Hunger Games - Chapter 1

I sent an obnoxiously long ask to someone's inbox about the Capitol specifically grooming Careers to be government prostitutes (shout out to them for putting up with it and having a great answer) and I think that its something that once again points to purposefully causing descent within the Victor's circle. if you're twelve years old and you live in one of the nicer districts (One, Two and Four) and you're hearing horror stories about Ten, Eleven, Twelve it would make a lot of sense if an adult authority figure came up to you and said you're not like them, you're better. thats why we let you guys train and teach you to survive in the games because we want you to win. you're gonna win, you have nothing to fear you should sign up. thats really easy to then flip to hey so that fancy academy you trained in, those fancy clothes you wore in the parade, the makeup we put on you for the interview, the sponsor gifts you got in the arena, that was us. we did that for you. now you have to do something for us. and because they've spent their whole lives being groomed to fight to the death in an arena all in the name of money, power, glory why should this be any different? You're the Victor, the Capitol loves you, they wanna meet you, they wanna be with you and like everything Snow should benefit so he's gonna get the money and these kids think it's an honor to be loved by the Capitol but then once they realize what's actually happening and try to back out its hey so you're actually gonna do this or i'm gonna kill your whole family and so

"Don't trust One and Two" Finnick says Catching Fire - Chapter 19

it's probably not that they oh so enjoy being sex trafficked, or so love life under the Capitol but more probably that they just don't trust the rebels. and the rebels don't trust them. they've been forced give their bodies away for over a decade to keep their families alive while (in their eyes) Haymitch is an alcoholic who can't keep it together. he's not their lovable drunk uncle who holds their hand after a rough night. why should they have any faith in him to put together a winning plan?

“Oh, no. I was the example. The person to hold up to the young Finnicks and Johannas and Cashmeres. Of what could happen to a victor who caused problems,” says Haymitch Mockingjay - Chapter 12

Snow knows Haymitch is trouble so he makes sure all the victors know he already lost. his family is dead, his lover is dead and now he wastes his days drinking himself to death. he's a loser and not to be allied with. they're all still playing the game and the capitol is the career pack. everybody wants to keep themselves and their families alive and Snow has the most resources, the better plan and the odds are in his favor.

[daisyjonesgf]

And I'm coming back around with West Coast!Finnick and now peppering in Sweet Girl <3 bc I can <3

Their favorite part of aquarium dates is watching the jellyfish float around. They'll stand there, hand in hand, and just watch them do their thing. And the shark tanks. (Also, if they have kids together, family aquarium outings are very common; a fun way to teach the kiddos about the wonders of the oceans without doing too much at once)

Camping trips happen often in the summers (before the smokey season hits). Either it's just the two of them, or the whole group gets together to do it. He always picks places that are by lakes, so there are more things to do other than hiking and playing cards and board games at the campsite.

Speaking of... I think he'd like kayaking/canoeing/rafting. Idk, just fits the vibe

Road trips on I-5... the two of them... just belting Taylor Swift songs and various other music (i can picture Finnick being a theatre kid at heart) and making a scrapbook of what they did when they eventually get back home after a while. Tourist traps, non-chain diners, and all the pictures you could imagine (he's a novelty shirt guy, sorry, i don't make the rules)

ty for blessing us with this pookie, I love this, it made me so happy you don't even know 😭💕

they do adore an aquarium date and they'll go and just watch for hours, soaking it in, like they love seeing the jellyfish doing their thing, I think sweet girl specifically just adores jellyfish bc I mean, look at them, whisps in the water and yet certain types can be so deadly. (this totally isn't me projecting as someone who loves jellyfish and watched documentaries ab them as a kid) and finnick loves sharks a lot, always brings up shark rights and how unfair it is that they get blamed for attacking humans when most of the time they're just looking for food and we're in their homes (he's so real for that) and yes when they have a family it is constant trips, spending so much time as the table where you can touch things with their little kids and teaching them all about the different animals and how to preserve ocean life.

also sweet girl ofc hates the cold but when they're by a cold beach she wants nothing more than to get up so early when the tide is low so she can look at all the rocks covered in starfish and sea anemones, she is wrapped up but she is so excited everytime.

I also think that finnick and sweet girl debate how they're going to camp bc finnick likes good old fashioned camping with a simple tent, honesty if it's warm enough just a sleeping bag under the stars, but sweet girl would rather have a trailer or mobile home or even a tent trailer (if it were her way it would just be a cabin actually but whatever lmao) and finnick is always like, "that's glamping."

and she's like, "I don't care if it's glamping, it's warmer."

"I'll keep you warm."

most of the time it ends up being the tent bc she caves really early on, but she'll still throw in a grumble or two about it until one year he surprises her with a tent trailer to take out occasionally. it continues being a debate when they have kids because finnick wants them to experience 'real camping' but sweet girl is like well it's more space and a kitchen and a sink. finnick doesn't think they need a kitchen when they can have a campfire and a cooler. she knows that but she just wants a bed and a kitchen 😭 and it really all comes down to their families having camped different when they were kids

yes, finnick is totally a lakeside camper but he's also lucky bc mosquitos aren't attracted to him the way they are to sweet girl and she doesn't complain about the location bc she loves the water but everytime she thinks, damn, I better lather the bug spray on. and sweet girl likes to float the lake, just her and a pair of sunglasses floating is all she needs, and finnick is always renting a canoe or a kayak or buying a paddleboard, she does them all with a smile because she likes seeing how excited it makes him even if he's highkey so bossy about how they paddle. if he let her she really just wants to sit there and look pretty like when camp was being set up, but he is working hard to be some sort of kayaking pro.

road trip supremacy, windows down, scream singing, finnick takes so many pictures and sweet girl wants to try ice cream in basically every small town and they both spend so much time picking flavors (it has to be something they both want to try since they end up sharing it with each other) and as we've discussed finnick loves saltwater taffy and therefore sweet girl has to be fudge person to even it out. they also go berry picking and forage for mushrooms (finnick lowkey complains but sweet girl loves it) and she wants to stop at every fruit stand, buy every homemade soap or jam, and she LOVES a honeystick.

they adore a diner and finnick loves a sweet breakfast and sweet girl usually prefers something sweet and savory, so finnick gets extra of his bc he knows she'll get something savory and then eat off of his plate. and you're so right, finnick buys all the novelty shirts he can and every time sweet girl is like, "really?"

but he defends it and calls her a hater for it. he also has a keychain from every town they visit and let's her pick out which one it will be.

[atelierlili]

What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children?

How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter?

How many years apart between them in age?

Your headcanon for their name?

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

You’ve made a grave mistake because I have so much to say and some art as well(becuase I’m so sane for them I swear)

So I’ve always headcannon that Katniss had her first baby in her late twenties-early thirties. In my head the 5, 10, 15 years go like this. Year 5: Katniss is open to the idea of children now. The games are done, but is Panem really safe yet? Is she ready yet. No, not really. Year 10: okay, Katniss feels safer and braver now. If it happens it happens. They won’t actively try for it and will let nature take its course. Year 15: Toast boy and girl are born within a 5-ish year time span.

Katniss names the girl Marigold for the golden flowers that Peeta planted next Katniss’ Primroses. Marigolds represent warmth, creativity, joy and good luck, but they were also given away during times of grief as a gesture of kindness and solidarity as the flower’s vibrant colours helped ease the pain of grief. Gold is also the colour that represents the bond between the district 12 team that comprised of Peeta, Katniss, Effie, Haymitch, Portia & Cinna. So it’s also carries some sentimental weight as without them and their bonds, this little girl wouldn’t have been born. Of course, Peeta calls the girl Muffin. Because she’s his little muffin. His little cupcake. It’s not until Effie decides that Mary is too bland a nickname for her favorite niece that we get the girl’s most used nickname- Muffy.

Muffy is a bundle of joy to their lives. And Katniss loves being a mother more than she’d thought. Having Muffy made Katniss yearn for the mini Peeta she dreamt of on a beach in the QQ.

Toastboy pops out about three and a half years later. The age gap is so close to be about the same as Katniss and Prim’s that it makes her heart squeeze again. His name is Cress, after Watercress (wait plz don’t leave), the aquatic plant that can be found in bunches at Katniss’ special lake. They are a highly nutritious plant to eat and is said to believe to have medicinal uses like treating swelling and fevers. The name is also a small nod to Annie Cresta and Finnick because of the water connection. His curly blonde hair gets him the nickname Goldilocks from Johanna.

Both children are highly artistic and connected to nature, Katniss teaches them both to hunt, but the kiddos don’t like it as much because they don’t like to hurt animals. It hurts Katniss a little bit, but she’s glad that bloodshed and violence (even to survive) aren’t a daily part of their lives.

Muffy is a performer. She’s definitely daddy’s little girl because she loves to yap. She could yap all day and still find something to talk about. She grows up loving to dance and then wanting to sing and dance- the dreams of making it big in the Capitol as a actress. (To Katniss’ complete and under horror) She’ll definitely develope some complex when it comes to being the Mockingjay’s daughter. Especially when she starts getting movie offers to play her Mom, even when after she tries going out of her way to distance herself from Katniss by going under a different stage name.

Cress is very much not Muffy. He’s a quiet little guy who follows after his big sister like a little duckling. He’s the only one who doesn’t get tired of her yapping and genuinely listens to her. Peeta and Katniss were a little worried when they started noticing that he wasn’t speaking for a while. They go to doctors and they can never find what’s causing this speech delay, but one day he starts talking at the age of 2, and he has the softest most sweetest voice in the world. He’s a very quiet and observant kid, that gets into more trouble than you’d think. While Peeta’s art is very imagery and emotionally (and politically) focused, Cress’s art is not. He’s super talented with a pencil and really skilled at realistic/technical drawings that he’d probably go an illustrate diagrams for scientific textbooks on nature and stuff. Growing up, he probably feels like his art work is too cold and unfeeling compared to Peeta’s splash of life. But in reality, the difference between they art styles are indicative of how they see and filter the world through their art.

Anyway, this is taking waaay to long so here is some early concept art of the toast babies. I’m still messing around with the tones and hues of their design, so none of this is final. I’m probs gonna switch Cress’s skin tone to a more golden undertone as opposed to Katniss’s reddish one to match his hair color, which might get a tad darker (or lighter tbh. In the books Peeta’s an ashy blonde) Meanwhile maybe I’ll give Muffy the redder undertone? There’s something off bout her that I need to keep experimenting with. She screams Movie Katniss baby, not Book Katniss Baby, but maybe that’s only because Jen has blue eyes.

[hungergamesheadcanons]

If Finnick had survived I genuinely think he and Annie would have had 4 kids, maybe 5 if she was blessed with twins.

If any of y'all have read my fics the firstborn in my head is always called Caspian - a little boy who is the spitting image of Finnick. I headcanon that Caspian is very sensitive and very sweet, especially considering that both Finnick and Annie are very considerate due to their respective traumas. Caspian would be a proper little gentleman.

Their second born would be a little girl in my mind, called Magdalene. In my universe it serves to honour both Mags and Magdalene who was Finnick's tribute partner and saved his life. She'd be the spitting image of Annie, just two lil mini me's. In my head Magdalene would be very artsy and very intelligent, probably very skilled with a paintbrush. She'd love her Uncle Peeta, who teaches her everything she needs to know about art and painting.

Their third born would be another little girl, named Nahla. She'd have Annie's eyes and Finnick's hair, and I reckon she'd be a proper spitfire. Probably learned how to hunt with Auntie Katniss, and then proceeded to bully her dad with Auntie Johanna until he taught her how to spearfish. Also she probably bullies her dad with Auntie Johanna just because it's fun. I could see Nahla always getting in trouble for starting fights at school, but it's almost always in defence of some bullying victim so Finnick and Annie aren't too concerned. A proper scrapper, though. And a bit of a prankster.

If they had twins (which they would be over the moon for, even if they hadn't planned for 5 kids), they'd probably be a little girl and a little boy. They'd be called Tallulah and Nen respectively, Tallulah making it out just before Nen and she'd tease him relentlessly for it. Nen would have Annie's hair, fiery red and straight as a doorknob, while Tallulah would have Finnick's bronze curls. Tallulah would be very attached to Finnick, learning how to weave rope and fish and begging to go on the barges with him to haul fish in, while Nen would be clinging onto Annie, learning how to knit and bake and all sorts. The two of them would also be very attached to Uncle Haymitch and Auntie Effie, listening to tales the two of them tell in front of the fireplace when they visit 12. They even subconsciously emulate them, bickering constantly.

[ivymirrorball768]

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 7: You'd shine like a diamond

series summary: sejanus plinth’s great grandchild (you) gets reaped for the 69th hunger games.

warnings/notes: the interviews

pairing: finnick odair x reader

wc: 5.3k ao3 link

The next few days passed quickly enough.

Training consisted of a variety of skills, but the approach remained mostly the same - stay out of it. Despite that, Finnick had insisted that you focus on having a main weapon rather than jumping around the stations; it was a popular choice and helped sponsors pick favourites, or so he said. You tried an array of tactics before eventually settling on a spear. It was good enough to throw if you had to.

When you were younger your Pa had taught you how to use one to fish. He’d owned a small boat, which he’d spent a whole two summers saving for. Always promised to take you out and teach you how to fish - thank god he did. Spears were good for the larger fish even if they were trickier than using a rod. It was a fond childhood memory, one not shrouded in hate but rather pure and untouched.

There were other calm moments. He’d taught you how to crab fish out by the docks too. Only gear for children yet it served for a fun day out. You’d always feed the little crabs before gently returning them to their home in the vast sea. Poor little things you couldn’t bring yourself to harm.

You wondered if he’d be watching the games. See you on the screen. It’d be the first time in a while that he’d seen your face. Pa wasn’t quite so present anymore, he’d had a rough upbringing and had never quite recovered from it, so I guess you could say the cycle continued. Gran was a drunk. Pa was a drunk. Gran left. Pa left.

But you had your Ma and your siblings. Before all of this, at least.

The alliance had come together well already forming into more of a friendship than a pack of kids training to kill each other. It now consisted of all of District 11 (Amara, Cress and Laurel), Sorrel from 8, Moss from 9, Evan from 7 and, of course, you and Petunia, which brought you up to eight members. It made training a lot less lonely. Unsurprisingly, Tulip had chosen to abstain from the whole ordeal, she seemed content in her silence.

You’d asked Mags about the girl from 12, Halle. She’d been training alone recently and the fear on her face was enough to make you want to protect the little one. If there was already an alliance forming, what harm could another kiddo do? Besides, Mags said knew her mentor, Haymitch or something, and she would ask if Halle wanted to join up with you all. It’d be a blessing if she even made it through the bloodbath.

It was finally the day to receive training scores and after scoping out the competition, you were less than confident. 1 and 2 had the clear advantage this year, exemplifying specialised skills and talents that were sure to win over the gamemakers, plus they carried the advantage of wealth. It didn’t help that there was no plan formed for what you would do during your allotted time. Underprepared was a titanic understatement.

The waiting room was exhausting by itself, a bunch of terrified children huddled together. They had 36 kids to see this year so people really needed to stand out.

Petunia was before you and she’d decided upon snares as her thing. You couldn’t very well do the same directly after, so spear it was. There was nothing incredible about your display. A missed target, then a bullseye. A bow, a spear, a fire lit. Multiple talents that you were average at best for.

So when you sat down to receive the scores, yours was expected.

Six.

Fine.

Petunia had got a seven. Tulip got an eight. That was above the average scores, and far better than you. How the fuck did they manage that? Sure, Petunia was likeable, maybe that was why, but you’d smiled too! She was prettier. That was it. And Tulip, that was a bit more understandable, she had guts and an attitude, she’d be a killer alright.

You weren’t mad. You weren’t. But emotions were brewing in a way you’d never felt them before.

The Capitol would divide you all in the end.

“Those are all good scores-” Mags began sensing the harsh atmosphere.

You interjected, unable to contain your worries, “It’s not good enough. A few of the other kids got elevens! And for clear reason too, I’ve seen them, they’re terrifying!- How are we meant to-”

A hand on your shoulder. You tensed up, caught off guard enough that the trail of words stopped.

“Look, the scores don’t mean much in terms of who will win, it’s just a guide for sponsors and you still have the interviews to secure those. Besides, an average number is good, it stops a target being put on you. You're okay.” Finnick’s words were firm, projecting the stability and comfort so desperately needed, deep eyes grounding you.

He’d seen it coming, your spiralling thoughts, the way you unknowingly grimaced at Tulip’s score, the way your usual smile scaffolded another flood of tears as nails curled into palms. He could read you easily enough.

You exhaled. “Okay.” Once he was sure you were calm enough, he continued on.

“Tomorrow you’ll each get some time to prepare for the interviews. Mags and I will be covering strategy and your escort, Pandora, will be covering Capitol etiquette.”

Pandora had been absent for most of the time here, she seemed to be staying somewhere other than the Tribute Centre, but nobody bothered to ask. The less obnoxious patriotism, the better.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

“Rise and shine, sweetie!” The shrill upbeat sound was enough to be met with a begrudging groan. It was 7am. There was no reason for her to be here so early. In fact, the others were still in a peaceful slumber, you just happened to be first on her schedule and conveniently asleep on the sofa again.

Brilliant.

“Ms Lovegood, pleasure to see you again.” The smile didn’t do much to veil the tiresome irritation.

“Oh call me Pandora that title is much too formal. It’s an important day today and I do so enjoy spending time with you tributes. Now, we must be getting to business right away.” She looked over your blanketed form. “That said… you should probably change. I’d suggest a shower, I’ll wait for you here.”

Before breakfast even. That was the true crime here alongside her tacky Capitol outfit. Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite fair. Pandora had a distinct style that was closer to District than Capitol. It reminded you more of the tales your family used to tell, of a girl in a beautiful colourful, feathery dress. Yes, Pandora’s style was much more muted pastels. Yellows, pinks, blues, purples, but nothing neon like many wore. Her signature theme seemed to be butterflies and flowers which was actually rather fitting. You wondered who her stylist was, many Capitol citizens had their own, especially those involved in the games.

Once you’d returned from the shower, you were taken to another floor in the building, one which you hadn’t yet seen, there were plenty of clothes lined up all in the distinct Dorcas Meadowes style. You could tell from the variation alone, provided again with options of all formats. None would be the interview outfit as they were all for practice, but never had you seen such an array of expensive outfits. Pandora seemed to be familiar with it all, barely blinking at the elaborate setup.

“Here are the practice outfits provided by your lovely stylist. I trust she’ll give you something so very magnificent, but we must be prepared for everything, after all beauty is pain.” She reached for the heels. You’d never worn heels before.

“Would they seriously put me in those?” Head tilted at the sheer impracticality.

“Who knows! It’s always best to be prepared!”

Alongside the clothing racks were stairs, chairs and tables of food and drink. Another test.

“I’ll be teaching you all about etiquette, how to ascend stairs in dresses, which believe me is more difficult than you’d imagine, correct posture sitting and standing, avoiding spillages and, of course, the proper use of cutlery.”

“I suppose we should get started then.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Exhausted. That’s what you were. She’d ran you around like a poodle at a dog show. That said, she was nicer than you’d imagined. Pandora wasn’t that much older than you honestly, 20 at most. The whole escort thing seemed to be an inherited role, maybe she had as little choice in being here as you. The positions were jarringly different though, elite rich with her whole life waiting vs poor tribute primped for slaughter.

During the day there had been numerous stumbles, thanks to the beloved heels, the worst of which ending with a bloodied nose and one of Dorcas’ extravagant dresses being stained dark red. Hopefully she’d forgive you for that.

Now, you sat tissue to nose waiting for Finnick to be done planning with Tulip. It was your turn for strategy talk. The interviews would be dreadful, but if anyone knew how to put on a show, it was Finnick Odair.

A look of amusement painted his face. “Get punched already? Games haven’t even begun yet, sugar.”

“Ha-Ha. No, I fell.”

“Well then that’s our first lesson. If you trip on stage, try not to break your nose.” Finnick teased, sitting down on the kitchen stool beside you.

“Wow, yeah that’s helpful advice. Real lifesaving shit.”

He laughed, before easing closer to you. “Let me see it.” You moved the tissue away, blood still slowly streaming. “You’ll be fine for later, might feel a little bruised though.” He guided your hand back to its previous placement before continuing.

“But seriously, if you trip on stage, joke about it, how you don’t have such beautiful clothes at home so these took some getting used to. They love any flattery that makes them seem above us.”

“I’m not going to trip, Finnick.” You frowned. He raised an eyebrow. He’d seen you around school and you certainly made your presence known. Walking into a fair share of doors, tripping on air. There was a history of ‘clumsiness’, one might say.

“Anyway, what do I need to do in this interview thingy?”

“Ah yes.” Finnick reached into his pocket, pulling out a small case and handing it to you. Inside lay a harmonica, entrancingly crafted. It was the gradient of the sea on a stormy day with grays and deep blues, on top were engraved silver waves and careful pearl edges. You were awestruck.

“This is… I’ve never seen something so magnificent! Thank you- truly, I don’t know what to say.”

“No need. Play me something.” He directed.

“Now?” You laughed incredulously.

“Yes, gotta get over that little stage fright you mentioned before. I sure as hell hope you can play after the strings I pulled to get you that.” Gleaming smile adorning his face as always.

He truly had done a lot to get it, but he’d spare you the details. Many Capitol elites were more than happy to do the young victor a favour, and if you wanted a harmonica, then a harmonica you’d have.

You thought for a moment about what to play before settling on All Things End. It was a poem that you’d once given notes to. One that served as a rather beautiful acknowledgement of the transience in this life. The notes alone would do on harmonica, the people that mattered would know what it meant. Your Ma would.

Air whistled through the instrument into an orchestrated melody. It was refreshing to be reconnected with music after the last week. You could play anything you wished, however some songs were best avoided, associated with rebels and all, your Ma would deter you. Especially considering your family history.

Once you’d finished the tune, you looked back at Finnick, nervously tapping your foot against the stool.

“What do you think?”

There was a light in his eyes, a homely shine that you only get by the seaside on a sunny day. He nodded. “Yeah that’ll do you well. Does it have a story? They love stories.”

Rather abruptly you laughed at the question, finding the fact it was even asked to be hilarious. “Of course it has a story! Everything has a story. And the right people will know what it means.”

“That’s lovely, sunshine, but here we need a story that the Capitol will like.” He thought it over. When he’d obtained the harmonica he’d picked up another instrument too, a golden lyre. He knew you could play it having seen you years ago playing one for show and tell, you both must’ve been 10 or so? “That song have words? Can you sing it?”

“Not without an-”

He got up to find the lyre, knowing exactly what you were about to say.

You stared at him in disbelief for what felt like an eternity as the instrument gleamed in the sunlight, held by an angel.

“How’d you know?”

“You brought it to class once.”

“Yeah, years ago! I didn’t think anyone would’ve remembered.”

He shrugged as though it meant nothing, yet the gesture was so meaningful you couldn’t help but meet his request, anxiously caressing the strings and beginning the song again, this time with the lyrics and the assistance of the lyre.

”A two-tonne weight around my chest feels like It just dropped a 20-storey height If there was anyone to ever get through this life With their heart still intact, they didn't do it right”

Your sweet voice drifted through the air with the soft humming of the lyre. The apprehension wasn’t entirely shrouded, but you pushed through the nerves. It was just Finnick.

“And all things end All that we intend was built on sand Slips right through our hands And just knowing That everything will end Won't change our plans When we begin again”

The chorus held an enchanting blend of hopeful melancholy. Ending. Beginning. Death. Life. An imminent natural cycle that you could so wonderfully convey.

Finnick tried to grasp his words. Uncertain of just what to say once the tune was over. It’d definitely gain you favour with the Capitol, he knew that much, but you needed to give them something more than skeletons of a story.

“It’s a beautiful song. Holds more for the audience when you have the lyrics too, you should perform it tonight.”

“That’s because it was a poem before it evolved into a song! But… singing it to so many isn’t quite my thing.” You spoke as though it was a heavy request and declining it would mean nothing. This held so much more weight than you could imagine.

Finnick ran his fingers through his hair. “I get what you’re saying, sugar, but this could very well be your final song, okay? Sing it like your life depends on it, because it might just do.”

You huffed, resigned. He was right, of course he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. Music was your peace, not for show and now they’d tear that from you too. Your vulnerability and your life wasn’t enough. They’d take your soul too.

“Fine. I’ll sing to them with the lyre, tell them about the poem and all. What else?”

“Mention me.”

He was certain, you weren’t, how funny to be profiting off his fame.

“Saying what?”

“Anything, they like me.”

Arrogant, that’s how it should’ve appeared and damn if that cocky smirk didn’t uphold the idea of it, but you could see the conviction in which it was spoken. As though it wasn’t out of pride but more an unfortunate fact.

“You’re a… friend?”

Oh fuck. The whole keep away from the tributes plan he’d carefully cultivated the night he’d met you little lambs was disintegrating quicker than a drowning bath bomb.

But friends? It wasn’t an absurd term for the two of you, he supposed. Sure, he’d held you when he cried, had been in your class, had known your Ma, knew your birthday because you were always so damn bitter it was on the same day as Aaron and you’d mention it yearly, your favourite color was green of course and... Oh. well that was a lot more specific than he’d have liked. He knew you.

“Yes, friends.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

LADIES AND GENTLEFOLK FOR THE 70TH HUNGER GAMES PLEASE WELOME CAESAR FLICKERMAN.

Caesar sauntered onto the stage, radiant hair genuinely glowing and glittering in the artificial light. This year his hair was yellow. Not blonde. An atrocious yellow, the kind that people might even debate about it being a green due to the neon ferocity.

Being from District 4 had its perks, the biggest being you didn’t have to wait too agonisingly long to get it all done and over with. So many kids this year, people would get bored quickly, so Caesar had a job to really bulk out people’s characters, make them loved or disastrously hated. He could swing the scales either way at a whim.

You held an advantage though. Uniqueness. It had been a bad thing when you were younger, standing out and not always in the best way. But now was your time to shine. Quite literally in the dress outfit that Dorcas had put you into. Clearly she’d spoken to Finnick and the affectionate nickname, sunshine, had most definitely caught on. Every accessory was this stunning sun yellow, much softer and sweeter than Caesar’s. Accompanied by the sea themed outfit again, it truly was a sunny day at the beach. Your favourite. Home.

Despite the beauty of the outfit, there were some… practical issues. Much to your discomfort you were pushed into a corset made out of sea-glass. It would have been truly majestic on someone more comfortable in such wear, but you felt stiff as a tree trunk. Suffocated far beyond anything Pandora could have prepared you for. Dorcas insisted it was ‘all for the sale, darling!’ But you didn’t want to be sold as another shiny doll.

Mags was there to greet you backstage. “Here, dear. You best not forget it.” She passed you the poem note from your Ma. Your eyes lighting up at the familiar sight. She really had taken care of it since the train.

“Thank you! You think they’ll like to hear about it?”

“Certainly. You do well talking about what you love.” She smiled her homely, gentle expression.

You observed the interviews before you. The first up was one of the girls from District 1, Chrysanthemum Aloe. She radiated an elegant ferocity even down to the dress she wore. No width to it, like a firm waterfall emphasising her secure height and framing her figure well. Like the other tributes from 1 and 2, she was on the older side, 18, so she’d be capable and practiced.

You’d seen her in training using a mace. It was a statement weapon, she explained to Caesar, as her mentor had won his games using it and she intended to do the same. Seemed like lots of the tributes had been directed to talk up their mentors, not just you. A popularity contest.

Chrysanthemum remained charming, regardless of the terror she oozed. It drew people in dangerously. And with a training score of 10? Anyone would bet on her.

Then there was Feldspar Rosedust. A boy from 2. He was by far the most terrifying. Daggers were his thing. He proclaimed that he loved the deceit they held. It wasn’t the best angle to play up as a ‘loyal’ member of the Career pack.

They’d dressed him in pure gold, no doubt wasting patrons money before the games even began, but his muscles were still on full show rather intentionally.

The conversation was central to the glitter sparkling in his suffocatingly blonde hair. So artificial. Caesar adored it though proclaiming that he must get some for himself, as though the neon yellow wasn’t enough already.

The next up was Ferne Lockheart, again District 2, who was all princessed up. Tiara and all. Voice ever so pronounced and proper. Pandora would have loved her etiquette, so natural and falling into a perfect image.

She wasn’t quite a fairytale though. No. Not enchanting enough. There was a coldness to her form, the green dress didn’t warm her as it did Dorcas despite its many puffs and airy ruffles. It worked against her auburn waves and deathly pale skin in a strange way. Her performance wasn’t faultless. It felt superficial even to some of the Capitol. She was leaning too far into the cultivated image of prissy.

The following interviews rolled through at an agonising pace. Each one piling up more and more nerves.

Petunia was before you again. She’d been primped up too, coral themed this time. Making the three of you from 4 the seabed, the sunshine and the storm. It was a rather beautiful concept from the stylists.

She did well, her curls cascading so effortlessly as she performed for them all. Pearl in hand. Tears were shed as they had been at the reaping as she leaned into Finnick’s whole ‘pretty, emotional, but resourceful girl’ act that was cultivated back on the train.

The next thing you knew Petunia had strolled off the stage, patted your shoulder and your name was being called. Fuck. It brought you right back to the reaping, a stranger calling for you, ready to expose you to crowds of thousands and ring you out for anything they could get. All the while you were in the same disassociated daze.

Either way, you made it to the stage. Smiling and waving. Finnick had told you to be as charming and flattering as possible, so that was what you’d do. Perform.

You’d made it without tripping.

“Well, my dear, it is ever so lovely to see you. Your chariot really did make an impression at the parade! We were all stunned by how ocean-esque it was, almost felt like being right there with you!” Caesar exaggerated.

It wasn’t a compliment for you. Not even a compliment to Petunia for wearing such an outfit. It was for her designer of course. Another promotional piece.

“Thank you for having me, Mr Flickerman.”

You shook his hand happily, as you always did when meeting someone. The absurdity of the politeness shook the crowd, posh stunted laughs. Oh how they loved to see tributes as show ponies and barnyard animals rather than civilised humans just like them.

Caesar was taken aback visibly, to try and replicate the audience.

“Oh now we can’t be having that formality! Call me Caesar, my dear, all my friends do.”

All his friends. Sure. That’s what you were. You wanted to roll your eyes and stomp of the stage, lyre in hand. But no. Politeness, but not too polite you supposed.

You anxiously rubbed the back of your neck, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry Mr-.” “Caesar.”

“Yes, sorry M- Caesar”

“That sounded very difficult for you. Do you often resort to such formalities?”

Laughs. So many laughs. A cacophony of them that was downright suffocating, but it meant they liked you at least.

“Yes, Caesar.” You put emphasis on his name then. Proving you could in fact do it. That the nerves hadn’t gotten the better of you.

“So, I know you have a little something prepared for us today.”

“I do actually, have a few tricks up my sleeve.” You entertained, gleaming happily.

Recalling what Mags said earlier, you nervously pulled the note from your Ma out of your pocket. Best start somewhere.

He peered over you rather intrusively, before pinching it from your grasp, reading the words with an eager eye. “Now what’s this here?! An old list?”

“Oh Caesar! No it’s a poem, silly. My Ma, she’s a teacher herself and she very much enjoys her words. In fact, couldn’t let me go without them! Had to give me something to take with me. Knowledgable woman, my Ma.” You beamed getting to talk about your family and your passions.

He addresses the crowd chuckling theatrically, “Well this one’s quite the talker.”

There’s a chorus of practiced laughs.

“Can’t help it Caesar! There’s so much to say when you’re at such an event. An opportunity like this only comes once in a lifetime.” Confidence was building.

“That is true, my dear! No wonder you’d want to make the most of your time with this lovely crowd.” He raised his hands to the audience with his phony grin.

“So… a little birdy told me you were musically talented, is that right?”

“Well the birdies say a lot, don’t they? How’d you know it to be true?” You joked leaning in to match his action. There was an underlying defiance that none of the audience would ever notice, a subtle reference to the Capitol’s control. To the jabberjays. The rebels would feed them lies.

“This birdy knows you quite well, I’d say… A mentor of yours?”

The crowd gasped, loving the small reference to Finnick. You recalled, what he said about mentioning him, still feeling uneasy about profiting off of his image.

“Yes, maybe there is some truth to that… I do like my music.”

“Oh I hear it’s much more than a like. Finnick has said a lot about you indeed!” He insinuates further underlying meaning behind it, but you can’t quite grasp what. “He says you’re an incredibly passionate young one.” Well what a way to put it. The audience Ooooo’d in intrigue. Passionate about music. He missed the main part of the sentence.

“He does? About the music.” You clarified.

“Oh of course, of course.” He winked at the crowd. “Although we have to question the nature of the two of you. Who could resist such a handsome man, after all. What are you and lovely Finnick Odair?”

“Friends.” You spoke the word cheerily. Friends meant a lot to you. The innocence in the way it was spoken was enough to tear some Awws from disbelieving romancers. They wanted a story and they’d cultivate their own fantasy regardless.

Caesar hummed in ‘thought’. “Friends… Alright. Well let’s see how well he knows you and your talents! Play us something!”

“Oh Caesar, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be bored by my tunes.”

“On the contrary, my dear! We’d all would love to hear whatever it is you have! Wouldn’t we?” Grin so wide it practically tore through his mouth.

“Well… I was told to bring two things, look at these beauties! I’ve never seen such extravagance back home. Finnick got me it.”

You indicate to the lyre beside you before plucking the harmonica from your dress pocket. You couldn’t well abandon it now. Caesar looked at the audience again at the mention of Finnick as if they knew something you didn’t. God, they were relentless.

You politely took hold of the harmonica.

“Now Caesar, what tune would you like?”

“Oh me?! A real charmer this one! Much like your mentor. I’m flattered to have the decision.” He pretended to think it over. “Hmm how about the national anthem, you know that one?”

A laugh forced itself from your throat. Of fucking course he’d choose the national anthem.

“Of course I know that one, it would be such an honour!” You smiled.

It felt like it lasted hours, but in reality about a minute and a half had passed. It went down a treat, being unusual enough to stand out whilst appealing to their patriotic propaganda. What a show. You wondered if they’d broadcast it to the districts. How much disdain it’d be met with. Patriotic spiel. How your Ma would feel about you playing into their crooked game.

“That was just incredible! And such a meaningful anthem too, reminds us all why we’re really here…”

Because President Snow’s a prick?

“It does indeed, Caesar. In honor of that I’ve prepared a little song, if you’d like to hear it?” You asked the crowd.

There was an upheaval of approval. Good. Get the song sung then you could get the hell out of there. The same one Finnick had adored earlier though he’d ran through 4 other options too before settling on it. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear more, but he’d never confess that.

“…That everything will end Should not change our plan When we begin again…”

…

The audience wiped their tears. Apparently the open acknowledgment that people were going to die in these games was something of a tear-jerker in the midst of the interviews. How ironic that they’d send you all anyway.

All things end.

All that we intend.

Scrawled in sand.

It slips right through our hands.

They should feel sad. Sorrowful agony. You wished it upon every one of their faces, because they had the nerve to pretend to care all the while sending beautiful souls to their graves. Hollow bones. You let yourself shed a singular tear rather than becoming a flame of anguish. The fury could wait.

“I think we all agree that was the most magnificent thing we’ve heard here in quite a few years! Perhaps ever!” He dramatically played you up. Sponsors would come rolling in. This was unique, rare.

“That might just have been my final song, Caesar.” You spoke melancholically. An outpour of awes and abrupt sobs.

“We’ll cherish it forever.”

Liar.

Once the audience had quietened down, his tone shifted. The interview must’ve been coming to a close.

“Now,” He leaned in closer, tone quieting in feigned sincerity. “We know how much you care for your family, that you’ve made abundantly clear,… Tell me, what do you think they’d say to you now? If they saw you here in this stunning dress! I’m sure they’re watching just now.” He wanted the tears for a good show.

You shook your head.

“I’d much rather they didn’t watch.”

A gasp from the crowd. That wasn’t the right thing to say. The games were an honor. This was disrespectful. Your eyes darted through the crowd, searching for a familiar face and finding Finnick. His kind eyes worked fast, meeting yours ready to assure you it could be fixed. He mouthed ‘continue’ with such certainty and confidence in you, signaling for you to work around the slip up.

“Because- I’ll be home soon enough. They won’t have to miss this face for long.” You smiled.

It worked. Thank gods it worked. There was an uproar of applause, the hope was working for them.

“So you believe you’ll win?”

You nodded.

“I’ll work as hard as a bee in spring.”

“What a funny little phrase! I just love it!” Caesar flashed another grin. Ready to sell you some more. “Tell you what, if you make it back out of that arena, you’ll sing us another song sometime, won’t you?”

“It’d be my absolute honor.” Now you’d be a ‘useful’ victor.

The buzzer sounded.

“Of course it would. Ladies and Gentlefolk, the second tribute for District 4!” He closed off the interview, restating your name for any potential sponsors and played the music for your exit. Finally, done.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Somewhere, President Snow was seething, eyes buzzing with the haunting of his past. How’d he let this slip by? You were every bit as emotive as your late grandpap and a singer too? Like the Covey. But you weren’t covey, no you were something much worse. One of those status climbing, gumdrop loving, justice serving Plinth’s. Worse even. A Plinth talking about their Ma? He’d seen it before. An insufferable lot who couldn’t seem to shut up about their family. The last one he’d met swung to the fate he deserved, wailing for his Ma. Snow was certain you’d be next.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

That day, Finnick realised how disastrously attached he’d become. He’d miss the 3 of you.

His little lambs.

But you. You weren’t a lamb.

No.

You were something that’d linger far longer.

A songbird.

Chapter 8: Down in the mine

[haysplumjam]

you can hear it in the silence

part 2

an: hey guys! here’s part 2 of the finnick/annie thing! this part is shorter, but definitely has a bite to it! as always, feel free to message w comments/critiques/TITLE IDEAS

tw: normal hunger games stuff, torture, violence, gun violence, gore

____________________________________________

“There are worse things to be than crazy,” I hear Finnick say in a hushed tone.

“What?” I hear Mags croak. She sounds awful. The doctors said we’re lucky she still has one word at a time. Soon there will be none. The book of hand symbols she was given by some friend I’ve never heard of from his family’s massive ancient library is helpful, but she still hadn’t learned most of them. Finnick promised to teach me once they both understood.

“Desirable,” he says firmly. “We both know she was at risk. This will keep her safe.

Mags must be doing the hand symbols, because there’s silence for a while before Finnick responds.

“She’s as safe as she can be, Mags.”

More silence.

“I can. I will. I promise.”

“Don’t promise,” Mags barely breathes. “First you get home is always hardest.”

“She deserves better, Mags.”

“We all do,” Mags breathes.

I want to enter the room, but I find myself trapped in the hallway. Finnick has been upset since the interview and refused to be around me without Mags, which I understand. I’m probably ruining his life and reputation as a mentor one tear at a time. There are other victors from four who can take over for Mags, but Finnick is so good at it. It should be him. At least I know it’ll never be me.

I know I have to die. Go quickly and quietly, hopefully before my victory tour, but maybe after to make it simpler. I can’t come back here again and watch another kid die.

A large avox materializes behind me, doing something with his hands that I can’t make sense of. He points toward Mags and I understand he means ‘go’.

I shake my head ‘no’ and retreat to my room.

Mags enters my room after a few hours and Finnick follows begrudgingly behind her. He looks miserable, and she looks concerned.

“Not bad,” Mags croaks as she sits down on the edge of my bed. She doesn’t sound like herself.

“They aren’t angry with you, Annie,” Finnick says for her. I know he is. He’s angry.

“I’m sorry, I just—“

“They want you back at the hospital to check your hand,” Finnick cuts me off.

I nod, mindlessly rising from my bed and smoothing the wrinkles in the clothes I’m wearing. I know it’ll be the last time I ever go to this hospital. I wont let them hurt me anymore.

Mags points to her chest, “go with her.”

“No, I will. You rest,” Finnick says to her, taking her arm and tuning to leave the room.

I change into simple clothes that aren’t the pajamas I’ve been wearing since the interview and tie my hair into a crude braid, my hand still unwilling to move in the way I want it to.

“I can go alone,” I say to Finnick as I walk to the door. Head down, fires subdued, eyes above the screens, give them what they want.

“No you can’t,” he closes the door behind me, leading the way to the elevator.

“I’m sorry, Finnick. I didn’t mean to—“

“You did nothing wrong, Annie,” he shakes his head. “Nothing. It would’ve been wrong if you weren’t upset. The whole thing is wrong, it’s…”

I keep my head down and follow him to the car, which wastes no time pulling away from the curb.

Head down, fires subdued, give them what they want.

“What hurts?” Finnick asks me as we drive in silence.

“Nothing,” I answer softly, staring at the scars on my right hand. I move my fingers one at a time, paying careful attention to how long it takes for them to actually move after I will them to. “When do we get to go home?”

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head. He looks out the window instead of looking at me. Of course he does.

“I’m sorry that I’ve made this so hard on you,” I can barely get the words out. I can’t help but think of Davey, who won years before I was born. I remember seeing clips of his games after he passed. He was a crying mess in his interview, too. He killed himself the year before Finnick won. My first year in the reaping. Is that my fate? Survive the games only to lose them after all?

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Annie.” Thankfully, the car stops before he can continue lying.

A guard escorts me into the hospital and down a hallway, Finnick walking silently behind us. The halls are silent and sterile, only identically uniformed doctors and guards passing us. We wind down more hallways I don’t recognize, and I can’t help but hope they drug me into oblivion like they did last time I was here. It took me days to regain coherence. Everything was fuzzy, but so were the nightmares.

The guard silently swings open a door, revealing a room full of sterile instruments. He closes it behind Finnick without further instruction. I sit on the table, crepe paper and plasticky capitol pants not creating much of a barrier between my skin and the cold metal.

I keep my head down, refusing to look at Finnick or the room around me. This will be the last time I’m in this place. There’s no one who needs me. If I can get Mags to promise to take care of the trio I’ve spent the past few years sharing a bedroom with and make sure it looks like an accident, I can kill myself. Mags will feed them. Finnick will be better off. Caspian, Navy, and Mariana will only need a minder for four more years. Then Cas will turn eighteen and quit school to fish full time. He’ll be able to support them then.

The door opens, distracting me from my planning. I look up from my lap to meet a set of eyes I recognize from every photograph I’ve ever loved and every mirror I’ve ever looked in.

Atlas.

I wretch out a sob and lunge toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He’s so much smaller. Frail, even. But he doesn’t hug me back, he just stands there wordlessly.

I step back, and one more look into his eyes– his soul– tells me that this is not my brother.

“Atty,” I take a step back from him. Suddenly I’m the twelve year old girl who lost her last surviving family member to the sea. A tragic accident with no body to bury. This is the body I was meant to bury.

He nods his head once. Robotically. The most emotional person I’ve ever known moves like a children’s toy. Can the capitol do that? Turn a person into a robot like they turn them into cats or lizards or mirrorballs?

“Atlas, are you an avox?” Finnick has risen from his seat, arm separating me from my brother the robot like he’s going to attack at any moment.

He nods his head once.

The tears keep flowing but I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. Angry? Happy? He died four years ago. On the mat beside me one morning and gone without a trace by mid-afternoon.

“Atty what can I do?” I can barely get it out. He just shakes his head.

He doesn’t move the same. The way he walks is wrong. The way he moves his head.

Finnick catches me before I can collapse to the floor. Atlas looks at me like he would a fish flopping around on his deck just before he beheads it.

The door flings open yet again.

“Atlas, you can go,” the voice I hate the most instructs. President Snow steps to the side as Atty leaves the room, pivoting on his heel in the same way he always has.

I wretch out a sob as the door closes behind him. I want to run after him. I almost believe if we could get him out of the capitol and to the water where there’s no cameras I could get him to talk. Tell me what really happened.

“He’s a wonderful worker,” President Snow says simply. “A bit resistant at first, but nothing a year in the sewers couldn’t fix.”

I cover my mouth in an attempt to stifle my sobs. It doesn’t work. Finnick uses the arm not keeping me upright to guide me back onto the table, keeping a hand on the small of my back to keep me sitting up. I am a ragdoll.

“We saved him for Mags, but your little fires made him much more useful than just another of her charity children,” he pauses.

I can not see through my tears, but I know there’s something sharp in here. Something I can use to slit his throat. I reach for the cart of drawers nearest to me, but Finnick’s arm keeps me from reaching them. He thinks he’s helping me from falling.

“Finnick, keep your tribute in line,” Snow snaps, taking a step toward me. “Annie, if we can bring your brother back from the dead, do you really think you’ll be able to kill me with a scalpel?”

He takes my wrist in his cold clammy hand, running his too-long fingernail along the fresh scars. “You vowed to behave, Miss Cresta. I give you the gift of your brother and you repay me with a death plot?”

Finnick is as pale as a ghost, his hand freezing against my back.

“If you so much as step a toe out of line I will make sure every child in that orphanage you so love ends up just like Atlas, Miss Cresta. They will serve me and then they will serve you and every child you train to die for the rest of your miserable life and you will watch them suffer. Is that clear?”

“She understands, sir,” Finnick says softly.

“Tell me you understand, Miss Cresta.” His fingers are cold and damp and still dance along my scars. He moves them as if he’s playing a tune on some invisible piano.

“I understand.”

“Good.” He turns and flings the door open, “Kill him.”

I don’t see the bullet, but I hear the gunshot and the thud and I know he’s gone again.

I throw up everything I’ve managed to eat since I left the arena onto the floor beside the table, and I feel my head hit the metal before everything goes black.

[mydarllinglover]

Playing Favourites || Four

Previous

"What? Finnick, we can't go in there!" Cove hissed at the boy, as he waltzed through the apartment, not seeming to care for her concerns. "Finn, no!"

"It'll be fine." He huffed, tilting his head as he looked over at her.

"No, it's against the rules, we'll get in trouble." She pressed.

"We won't, you're with me, rules don't apply to me."

"Well, sorry, pretty boy, but they do to me, I'm about to be put in an arena of death, imagine if I get caught doing something like breaking into the training centre, what would they do to me, then?"

He finally stopped, turning on his heel, as he thought.

"Okay, come on." He grabbed her wrist, walking opposite from the front door, deeper into the apartment, in the direction she had seen Oscar go, "You don't say anything to Lake, okay?"

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Secret place."

He opened a door, that looked like a bedroom.

"Is this yours?" She asked, when he still pulled her along through it, the bed was still made, and the blinds were open, but with a press of a button, they were being pulled closed.

"Yeah." He answered, pulling her through another door, quickly closing it behind her.

"Oh. Woah..." Cove's mouth hung open, when she stared at a large sized swimming pool, the room was rather dark, with small white lights beating down on the water, it sparkled underneath. She couldn't believe this, why was it connected to his room?

"Managed to pull a few strings, considering I'm here from time to time." He declared, as they both stared at the water.

"And you were keeping this from me? What the hell, Odair?!"

"I'm showing you, aren't I?"

She looked at him for a second, before quickly yanking off her sweater, and he copied, throwing off his shirt.

As she pulled at her trousers, and stepping out of them, Finnick picked her up, bridal style, before throwing her into the pool, like he used to do, when they were kids.

"Finnick!" She screamed, as she splashed into the water.

Cove jumped up, wiping her now wet hair off her face, and out of her eyes, bobbing in the water, as he laughed.

She examined him, through her lashes, he was only in boxer shorts, ready for a swim.

Cove was aware how handsome the boy was, she had always thought so, since they were kids, but she never paid attention it, until now, but as she looked at him, she gulped, under the lights, he was glistening, and toned, and oh so perfect, like some sort of God.

She would've had a chance to be embarrassed by the red in her cheeks, if she wasn't hit with another splash of water, as the boy dived into the pool.

As he popped up, in the water, beside her, pushing his own blond hair out of his face, he splashed her again, with his hand.

"Stop." She chuckled, throwing it back at him.

"Come on, Cove, show me what you got." He told her.

"What do you mean." She asked.

"Well, you wouldn't let us go to the training centre, so let's do it here." Finnick said, as if it were obvious.

"I'm not gonna fight you, Finn."

"Why not?" He splashed her. "We used to train together."

"Yeah, but you're a lot bigger than me, now, and you actually know what you're doing."

"Guess what, Covey, the guys in that arena, are way bigger than you, you're still gonna beat them, and if you can go against me, it'll be a walk in the park, when you come home." He splashed her, once again.

"Stop acting like I'm gonna win." She rolled her eyes.

"You ain't, if you don't do anything about it." Another splash.

"Stop!" She barked, shoving him.

"Make me." He smirked, splashing her once again.

Cove jumped at him, her hands on his shoulders, and his arm instantly came to hold her around the waist, as she tried dunking him under the water, but he ended up throwing her back in the water.

"No fair!" She shouted, when she stood back up.

"You want me to just stand there and let you drown me?"

"Yes!"

"Don't work like that, Covey."

"Then teach me, Finn, how am I gonna win this?"

He smiled, as he swam towards her.

They spent hours training together, like they used to, and he taught her maneuverers that would help her in the games, both attack and defence, until they were both too tired to barely move.

Cove and Finnick got out the pool, crashing down on the heated bench, before they could bother to get dressed.

"Y'know, your dad came to see me." Cove said, quietly, as she stared at the water. "When my mother was...."

"Yeah?" He asked, his eyes on her.

"Yeah." She whispered. "He uh... they were friends, weren't they, and he told me how he was sorry, and he missed her. And we talked about you." She glanced at him. "He told me how you were getting on, and how he knew how sorry you were, that you were blaming yourself, for both of them. Why didn't you come see me?"

He had been completely thrown off by this question.

"I-.... I',m-" He tried looking for the words, as she continued to look at him, with that sad look on her face that he couldn't stand. "I'm sorry, Cove." His voice cracked, as he spoke. "I didn't think you wanted to see me, after everything that went down, and I didn't know how to talk to you, anymore, after what I did, in the games, I didn't know how to be your friend, anymore, I didn't want you to judge me."

"Finn." She scooted, so she could face him, so she was closer to him. "I missed you, so much, I just wanted you back in my life, you're my favourite person in this life, I know how these games work, I was never upset with anything you did in that arena, I just wanted you to come home. You're my best friend."

His eyes shut tight, as he listened to her.

"Now, I have to fight 23 other people, just to get you back." She chuckled. "I know you're popular, but this is a bit extreme."

"You got this, it'll be fine, and then we can be neighbours again, and rich."

"Yeah, and be broadcasted to the whole of Panem, for the rest of our lives."

"See, it'll be great." He rolled his eyes, but that light was coming back to his eyes.

"Come on, I got my first real day of training tomorrow, and it's late." She tapped his arm, as she stood up from the hot bench, grabbing her clothes to get dressed. "Need my beauty sleep if I wanna flirt my way into winning."

"You don't need it." Finnick said, quietly.

"Huh?" Cove asked, not quite hearing him.

"I said just be yourself." He cleared his throat. "Be yourself, and it'll work."

"Thanks, Finn, and thanks for this." She smiled at him. "Night."

"Yeah, yeah, night, Cove." He watched as she left the pool room, to go off to her own quarters, once again, and he felt that familiar stab in his chest, she was so close, and still so far away, why her? Anybody but her, all he could think about was all the chances he could give her, so that she'd come home, home to him.

"Rise and Shine!" Remus knocked loudly on Cove's bedroom door "Your clothes are in the second draw of the dresser.

Cove threw a pillow over her head, as she groaned into it, loudly.

She'd only managed two hours of sleep, and the only person she could curse, was the blond boy, who had kept her up all night.

"Up! Now!" Remus shouted through the door, louder, when she had felt herself falling back asleep, how did he know?

Cove pulled the covers off of herself, climbing up from the comfortable mattress.

She pulled the outfit from the draw, it was an all black outfit with a greyish blue stripe, as she put it on, she realised how tight fitting it was, interesting.

She moved to the bathroom, to look at herself, her hair was a mess, and she could only blame the fact that she went to bed with wet hair, once again, his fault.

Cove brushed it out, before pressing the button, that whooshed her hair, so it was straight, then she parted it down the middle, then braiding it into two plaits, letting two small strands out, to frame her face.

She licked her lips, before patting her hair, then leaving the bathroom, and then her chambers, heading for the dining table.

"Finally!" Remus stamped his foot, upon seeing her.

"Sorry." Cove bowed her head, as she took her seat beside Lake.

"Long night?" Oscar asked.

"Something like that." She replied.

Everyone but her had missed how Finnick took a sip from his drink, hiding a knowing smirk.

She kicked him, under the table, his smug look was irritating her, but she wasn't really sure why.

"Its your first day of training, today." Oscar started.

"How do we play it?" Lake asked.

"I want you both to downplay it." He replied.

"What?" Cove frowned. "So they can think we're weak?"

"Well... sorta." He shook his head slightly. "Show off but, but not too much, you want them all to think you're skilled, easily an threat, but you don't want to give them the whole playbook, y'know what I mean?"

"So in case we end up trapped, they won't know everything we can do." Lake continued.

"Exactly." Oscar snapped his fingers. "Cove, remember what we talked about?"

"Yeah, yeah, flirt my way out of death." She looked at her glass of water, with boredom, she didn't care for the plan.

"Look, you're gonna have to understand that who you are in the arena, is just a character, so you play whatever game it is, to get out of this one, that's what you should care about."

"Fine." Cove folded her arms across her chest.

"'Sides, you should be used to playing a character, no one usually smiles and befriends everyone in the town, after watching their mother and brother die, no one except someone who knows how their real feelings can get them killed, as well. Least your brother wasn't so stubborn."

Cove locked eyes on Oscar, as the rest of the table sat in an uncomfortable silence.

"Fuck you." The words felt like venom as they tumbled out of her mouth.

"Save that anger for the arena." He waved her away, taking a sip from his own cup.

Cove stood from her chair, hands slapped on the table as she tried to contain her emotions.

"Cove." Finnick stood as well, going to follow as she headed in the direction of the elevators.

She put her hand up, behind her back, as she continued her march.

"Cove, wait." Finnick didn't listen, as he continued to chase after her.

She almost punched the button of the elevator, as she was willing it to close on the apartment, but alas, he had managed to get in.

"Cove, he's just trying to get you mad." Finnick told her.

"Well, you can tell him he succeeded." She turned away from the boy, covering her face.

But he had stepped in front of her, holding her wrists, as he pulled them away, so he could see her.

"He's trying to get you mad, so you're a better fighter. That anger you feel, direct it at them, the other tributes, it's their fault that you're here, they're your enemies."

"Finn..." Her voice cracked as she said his name, that fire in her eyes had burnt out, already.

"I'll walk you to the training room." He said, pressing the button for the floor. "I agree, by the way. It'll be a good idea to join the career pack."

"Finnick..." She tried, but once again, he wasn't gonna let her turn her pain into sadness, he wasn't gonna let her talk it out, he needed her to stay mad, even though he wanted to talk her down, he knew it was for the best if she kept it bottled up, until eventually she exploded.

"They're strong, if you can get in with them, it'll be good for you, just think of it as less work, but it doesn't mean you can let your guard down, and by the way it's going, you'll get sponsors, a lot of them, hopefully their mentors will have a good mind to let them know that."

"What if they just turn on me, the second I let my guard down."

"Then don't." He looked at her. "One eye open, at all times, Covey."

Once the doors opened, Finnick put an arm over Cove's shoulders, one hand in his trouser pocket, as they walked into the training room.

There was already other tributes huddled in a group, and their focus zeroed in on the pair, instantly.

"Give 'em hell." Finnick whispered to the girl, before leaving her side, his fingertips the last to touch her own, before he was back in the elevator.

A worker had come up from behind Cove, pinning the number 4, to her back.

She noticed how the other tributes had their own district numbers on their own.

Moments later, Lake had come down the elevator, joining her.

"Woah." He sighed, as he looked around the room.

"Feels like I'm right back in school." Cove muttered.

"Come on, let's make friends." He patted her back, walking towards the other tributes.

A woman named Atala had explained the rules to the group and how they were allowed to move around the room, freely, something rare for tributes to be given, freedom.

"I guess I'm gonna learn about the environment." Lake tells Cove, once they're released.

Being from the fishing district, there wasn't much that the two didn't know.

"I'll try out the knives, wonder how much different they are to a spear." Cove thought out loud.

"Good luck." He nudged his chin behind her, as he low-fived the girl, heading for his station of choice.

She looked behind her, seeing the Careers looking at her, as they whispered to each other.

Cove offered them a kind smile, before making her way to the knives, daggers and swords. She could play nice, if Oscar and Finnick really wanted her to.

Cove had spent the hours leading up to lunch, messing around with the different type of weapons, becoming familiar with them, she had found that she liked the swords a lot, it reminded her of training back at home, when her and Finnick used to practise together, but the small knives were a lot more useful, and discreet, a lot of damage can be done, with an concealed weapon.

Every now and then, she looked up to the top of the room, where the Game makers had gathered, to watch the tributes, make notes of them.

Every time she had caught the eye of one, she showed off a small smile, before looking away bashfully, at being "caught."

"Hello, my dear Cove." Lake joined her, as they walked into the cafeteria room.

"Lake." She replied.

"4, over here!" The boy from 1 called the two over, before they could locate a table to look at.

"Time to put the plan in place." Lake smirked at her.

"It's been in place since I left that elevator." Cove shared, as they walked towards the "Careers table" Sitting down among the bloodthirsty children.

"I'm Jasper, this is Dior." The district 1 boy introduced himself, and his partner.

Both were stunningly beautiful, and looked well groomed.

Jasper had brown hair, that slightly curled at the end, it was short, but the top was cut just above his eyes, his brown eyes were alluring as he looked at the girl from 4, wetting his lips with his tongue, as he took her in.

Dior had a sour look on her face, though Cove could tell she was trying to cover it up, to come across as friendly, and welcoming, too bad she was doing a bad job of it, and the little bows in her pigtails weren't helping, either.

“And I'm Vita." The girl from District 2 spoke up. "Here we have Steel."

"Nice to meet you all, I'm Cove, and this is my partner, Lake." Cove smiled at the 4 of them, graciously, as her and Lake sat down.

"Hi." He nodded.

"S'up." Steel spoke, his arms folded across his chest as his eyes flickered between the two.

His hair was darker than Jaspers, longer too, it was shaggy looking, as though he had just woke up, but it looked good, and he didn't look as friendly as the district 1 boy. But Cove didn't mind the way he looked, either. He was also tall, probably the tallest in the whole group, but he didn’t lack muscle, she’d seen how he worked on the activities, how his arms bulged as he messed around with Jasper, he would definitely come in handy, in the arena, Cove thought.

Though, she had found herself comparing the two boys to her mentor, to her oldest friend, and for some reason, neither could even compare to the way he looked, there seemed to be beautiful, and then above that was Finnick Odair.

Cove slightly shook her head of the thought, tuning back into the conversation they were all having.

"So, fishy, what are you good at?" Dior asked her.

"Oh, uhm, I like to sing." Cove answered, picking at her finger nails. "And I'm not a bad cook, either."

The group around her snickered to themselves, exchanging looks as Lake looked at her unimpressed.

"They meant skills, dumbass." Lake muttered to her.

"Oh!" She looked at him. "I'd like to change my answer."

"Go ahead, Songbird." Steel gave her a lazy smile, his fist supporting his cheek.

Cove felt her own cheeks heat up, at his nick name, as she thought about her answer.

"So, you know I'm, we" She pointed at Lake. "We are from the fishing district, obviously, not good enough as the 4 of you, but I would say that we're third best in all of Panem, 3 obviously being 4th, that's besides the point, I swim almost every day, I have great stamina, I'm a quick learner, at like... anything, and I have a great smile." She proved her point, showing off her pearly white teeth.

"Oh, and the capital love her, so far." Lake commented.

"Why do you say that District 3 is the 4th best district?" Vita asked.

"Well, y'know, they're techy, and from what I've seen in the games, apart from physicality, they're strong contenders from their brains, they know how to make stuff, that could be useful, considering we don't know what kind of elements we'll be dealing with. And on the other hand, they're not that great at combat, so if need be, just a simple." Cove made a motion with her hand, in front of her neck, motioning to kill them off.

"Hmmm." Jasper hummed in thought, sharing a look with Dior.

"Interesting." Steel had shown off his own teeth, as he grinned at her, biting into some bread, she noticed it was her own districts, the green fish shape wasn't exactly hard to miss.

"I guess we could think about allying with 3." Jasper nodded, not bothering to wait for the approval of the two girls.

Cove discreetly looked at Lake, who was looking back at her, she had the two boys right in the palm of her hand, just like Oscar wanted, and she’d barely done anything.

Next

[nickeverdeen]

Hey! Could I request to get maybe an arcane, hunger games, and percy jackson matchup?

Okay, so i use mostly she/her pronouns, and i'd say i'm bi if i had to put a label on it.

personality-wise i'm more on the introverted side and i have an rbf - or so i've been told - that makes me intimidating/unapproachable, i guess. i moved around a lot as a kid and it was harder for me to make friends for said reasons, but once i did, i'm friends with them forever. anyway, i'm intj, and i take my academics really seriously, i'm currently studying criminal psychology. i'm also really sarcastic and have a somewhat darker/dry sense of humour that only a select few of my friends get

i love reading, listening to music, and being active. i'm pretty physical in which i take a few martial arts and kickboxing, i work out sometimes but i'm not a huge fan of structured workout routines n stuff cause i'm shit at sticking to routines.

looks-wise I’m actually pretty short around 5'3-4 with shorter black hair and dyed red sections in the front. i have a few piercings (several on each ear, septum, n tongue) and two tattoos (hips and thigh). my style is kinda just all over the place, i thrift a lot and just pick out what looks cool, you could never catch me out without firstly eyeliner (not too thick, but some sort of wing) and some kind of jewelry. i wear a lot of rings + one bracelet and necklace that are rly important to me and i wear every day.

lastly, i'd say my love languages are either words of affirmation or quality time. i'm not super huge on being touched or hugged by people - especially strangers/people i don't know well - but i'm not entirely opposed to physical touch with someone i'm comfortable with, it's just not really how i show my affection, which has been a problem in a past relationships.

sorry if this is too much info. and thank you so much for doing this if you have time, and no worries if you don't!

Your Arcane match is…

Sevika

Sevika would love sparring with you, finding your martial arts skills impressive and using it as a bonding activity

She’d subtly admire your tattoos and piercings, often running her fingers over them while you relax together

Sevika would understand your introverted nature and wouldn’t push you into social situations, preferring to spend time alone with you

She’d love your dry humor and sarcasm, often quipping back in ways that make you laugh unexpectedly

Sevika would be fiercely protective of you, both because of her nature and the respect she has for your independence

She’d buy you small but meaningful gifts, like unique rings or accessories, knowing how much you value your everyday jewelry

Sevika would encourage your passion for criminal psychology, often teasing you about “profiling” her

She’d be direct in her words of affirmation, praising your intelligence and strength without hesitation

Sevika would love watching you thrift and style outfits, often pointing out pieces she thinks would suit you

Despite her tough exterior, Sevika would treasure the moments when you let your guard down and show affection, no matter how subtle

Your Hunger Games match is…

Finnick Odair

Finnick would love teasing you about your RBF, often joking about how intimidating you are to others while finding it endearing himself.

He’d admire your martial arts skills and would ask you to teach him some moves, turning training sessions into playful competitions

Finnick would respect your boundaries with physical affection, finding subtle ways to express his love, like brushing your hair away or holding your hand

He’d constantly compliment your intelligence and sense of humor, loving how quick-witted you are

Finnick would gift you meaningful tokens, like small trinkets from his past or items that remind him of you

He’d love your eclectic style and often try to guess what outfit you’d piece together next

Finnick would enjoy spending quiet quality time with you, like reading together or walking along the beach

He’d often challenge you in games or debates, appreciating your competitive yet logical nature

Finnick would deeply value your loyalty and cherish the fact that you’re selective about who you let into your life

He’d occasionally surprise you with impromptu dates to unique places, knowing your love for exploring new things

Your Percy Jackson match is…

Nico di Angelo

Nico would instantly connect with your introverted nature and love for reading, often spending hours in comfortable silence together

He’d admire your tattoos and piercings, occasionally tracing them absentmindedly when you’re together

Nico would find your sarcasm and dark humor refreshing, often laughing at jokes others wouldn’t understand

He’d share music recommendations with you, appreciating your mutual love for lyrical, emotional songs

Nico would respect your boundaries with physical touch, opting for subtle gestures like holding your hand or leaning against you

He’d enjoy watching you thrift and would even join you occasionally, pointing out items he thinks match your style

Nico would admire your dedication to criminal psychology and often ask you about it, intrigued by your insights

He’d feel reassured by your loyalty and trust you completely, knowing you’d never let him down

Nico would join you in martial arts training, finding it both challenging and a way to connect with you

He’d make an effort to offer words of affirmation, knowing how much they mean to you, even if he’s not always great with expressing his feelings

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

General Rated Fics Masterlist (2)

Part 1 /

Created: August 23, 2023

Last Checked: —-

Campus Radio Station-absnow (Tumblr)

Summary: Drabble. Everlark meet-cute in student union coffee shop with a side of Finnick and Katniss friendship. Katniss works at the student radio station with some resulting flirting through music.

Honey-Gold Harvest Moon-songbirdheart (AO3)

Summary: “Pairs of dancers worn out from the string of reels or rags stumble away to get cider and catch their breath, but Peeta draws me close under the lanterns and the skeleton trees, and I rest my cold cheek against his as we sway to the music of the dulcimer.”

I Would Die for You in Secret-HuntersWithCellPhones (AO3)

Summary: Takes place in the scene of Catching fire where Peeta Hits the forcefeild and goes unconsius, but in Finnick's POV. Is the scene where he realizes Katniss and Peeta aren't just an act.

I've Been the Archer, I've Been the Pray-HuntersWithCellPhones (AO3)

Summary: While Training for the Quarter Quell, Finnick is keeping an eye on Katniss and gets a chance to watch her shoot, followed by Katniss, who he would've thought to be the harshest victor speaking to Mags in a quiet, calm tone as she teaches her to shoot a bow.

It's Not Like That-just_a_dram (AO3)

Summary: There’s some kind of joke happening at our expense that I don’t understand. Seems pretty sick to laugh about kids and their nightmares.

Making New Memories-tryalittlejoytomorrow (AO3)

Summary: She doesn’t know how to tell him, that she cares about him, that she’s scared of losing him just like she couldn’t bear losing Gale or Prim. She’s no good with words; Peeta’s always been the one pouring his heart out. Neither of them wants him to do so now, though; it’s her turn to say something, to take the first step towards him. “I wish they’d let us have a toasting first,” she murmurs. “I don’t want a big, fancy Capitol wedding. If we have to get married, I want it to be small and feel like home.” He freezes, the fingers that had been sifting through her dark waves coming to a halt. Katniss hears the tremor in his breathing, and she regrets saying anything. But Peeta recovers quickly, and draws her even closer, bending his head until his mouth is right by her ear. “We could do it,” he whispers. “If that’s really what you want.”

Snowstorm-songbirdheart (AO3)

Summary: “Spring is for courting, so mother will say; summer for wedding, rosy as May; autumn for keeping you warm from the cold; winter for babies to care when we’re old.” Written for the prompt: "No games, canon. Just a good, all time favorite “it would have happened anyway” story. Maybe throw in snowstorm trope to make it seasonal?" You got it. :D

Someday-Xerxia (AO3)

Summary: Modern AU, adult everlark best friends spend an eye-opening evening babysitting.

Sugar Spun-songbirdheart (AO3)

Summary: “Paper up the rabbits tonight,” Madge says as they break apart, and he puts an arm around her waist to lead her back into the house, “and tomorrow, I’ll make a special dinner for Sweethearts Day.” “Oh,” Gale says, sounding surprised. “Is that tomorrow?” “Meaning you didn’t get me anything,” Madge teases, ribbing him gently. “Meaning I still have a day,” he amends, stoking the fire as she starts setting out the things for dinner. A Gadge side story. Gale and Madge celebrate Sweethearts Day together.

What's Past Is Prologue-autumncolors (AO3)

Summary: In the cave, during their first Hunger Games, Peeta confessed to Katniss that he had been so captivated by her that he watched her walk home from school every day since they were five. That was the truth. But it wasn’t the whole truth. Submission for Prompts in Panem (Seven Deadly Sins) Day 7 – Envy

[wcrriorhearts]

Posy didn't know what sea turtles were, but the way Finnick spoke of them made her fairly certain that she would love them as well. Now she really wanted to go to the ocean and see all of it; the water, the sun, the fish and creatures living in it. None of those things were within reach for children from 12. She had grown up surrounded by poverty, coal dust and corrupt peacekeepers. Now they didn't even know how much of 12 was left to go back to, if anything. Posy remembered the bombs vividly and wasn't sure anything could have survived that fire from above.

She grinned contently when Finnick declared that he would teach her how to swim after the war. That was a great prospect and Posy was sure she could learn it easily. "I will come visit you, then. It is a good skill to know how to swim. We don't have a lot of water, but still - maybe one day i'll be in need of surviving like that", she said with a shrug, because survival instinct was drilled into her very bones from day one. Everything in 12 had been potentially life threatening. The poverty, the Peacekeepers, the pollution, the lack of hygiene, the weather - children learned early on what it meant to be on guard, always watchful, always assessing potential threats. They were also used to people disappearing during winters, or periods of famine.

Finnick's tears were hard to read for the girl, but he didn't seem very sad, so she guessed he was just happy. "What is mentally unstable", she asked curiously, because she had never heard that, maybe she had it too? Who knew what weird sicknesses you could get during the war. "Is that infectious?" The notion to fun made her huff, because how was she supposed to enjoy herself here in this sterile underground bunker of a shit hole? "I don't think the people here know how to spell fun. I do. Mostly because it's a short word, but still." Posy wasn't good in school, but no one had ever expected her to be. It was hard to concentrate with an empty belly and many days she stayed home to help her mother, so they could make money. That was the reality of many kids from 12, though sometimes she felt under educated due to that.

It was forgetable, how little the outside districts were known to people. His love for the ocean, the light-colored beach sand darkening as the waves crashed into it leaving just the foaming residue and gifts of seaweed or seashells was unknown to the girl. It was the same for him, though, not knowing much of the District she came from, the very same one where Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark rose from the ashes in a firey victory. His knowledge only extended to the production of coal, the dreary dusted vision the camera had on the children during the Reaping.

"The water," He began, unable to stop himself from looking past the girl, past the cafeteria walls as he drew up the memory of the water, the sound of the waves in his ears. "On the best days when the sun is high in the sky, it's cool but with a touch of warmth where you never want to leave. And there is more sea creatures besides dolphins but the dolphins are pretty as they swim farther out together, like a family. I prefer the sea turtles, though, they're my favorite."

Talking of home made his heart ache but but it was a nice outlet, to share his home with someone who did not know of it. It made the memories of what he may never see again, golden in his eyes. It showed that through everything, he had those happy memories mixed in that he could call back to when a buzz of bliss was needed.

He did not have an hope of ever going back to District Four. The end of this rebellion, the war, seemed too far away to even picture a happy ending of peace. Even with that, the Capitol had been doign a number on the districts that could quite possibly become beyond repair after everything was over. Though, Posy brought up going to Four to see for herself what he had described and maybe that gave him some light at the end of the tunnel. "When you come visit, I'll teach you how to swim." Finnick assured the young girl. "I'm a great swimmer so I'll be the best teacher for you." He focused on the light-hearted talk rather than the hope Katniss had discussed with this girl of the future the rebellion would bring.

Why was it that he had become teary eyed now? He was laughing and yet his eyes were threatening to let go of tears that clung to the edge of his eyelids, coating his bottom lashes. "The most invincible duo." He responded with a couch at the end. His throat began to swell up like he may not be able to speak again. Without an exaggeration, he moved his hand up running it along his cheek and up to wipe away the wettness of his eyes. "They haven't allowed me to do much yet. I'm still mental unstable." Finnick raised his arm shaking the hospital bracelet he wore on his wrist. Possibly a little too honest of words, but if she asked he would lighten the context of the words. "You're lucky that your mother said no. A ten year old like you should be focused on having fun rather than working especially for these people."

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 12)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven

“We have one month, that is all. After that, two of us are back in the arena and we need to be ready.”

This meeting of district twelve’s victors is called to session a bit earlier than Haymitch would like. Not that any of them have been sleeping anyway.

“So you want us to do what, exactly?” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

“I think we need to train, all of us. Everyday.” Peeta says, pointedly.

Haymitch huffs a laugh.

Y/N squeezes her husband’s shoulder, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“You’re gonna start deadlifting until this kid comes flying out of you?” Haymitch rears back in perturbed amusement.

Y/N shakes her head. “There are things I can still do. Brush up on my skills, learn a new one.”

“I could teach her to shoot,” Katniss offers.

Y/N shrugs, “she could teach me to shoot.”

“And you could teach us how to throw knifes.”

“We’ve all won the games.” Peeta reminds Haymitch in particular. “We can all learn from each other.”

————————————————————————

A couple weeks later they sit down with the kids, unsure how to broach the topic of tonight’s discussion. But the whispers around town are loud, better they hear it from their parents than someone else.

“Do you remember when we talked about the Hunger Games?” Y/N begins.

Everest nods, they talk about it in school too. “If you win, you become a victor.”

“Right,” Y/N leans across the table a bit more.“This year is a Quarter Quell.”

“That means a special games, like Daddy’s.” Arista adds.

“This year…” Haymitch hesitates, “it means that only victors can go.”

“They can’t do that,” Everest interjects.

“But you’re victors.” Arista says, a look of realization dawning over her features.

“Let’s talk through this.” Haymitch attempts to calm his children. “I know you both have a lot of questions.”

“No, they can’t do that. It’s not fair!” Everest’s little hands ball into fists.

“Honey-”

“Are you gonna die?” He cries, angry, hot tears cascading over his cheeks. “Katniss? Peeta? What about our friends? Cashmere, Gloss, Finnick, Mags? Who’s gonna take care of us if you’re both-”

Arista’s breathing picks up and she abandons her seat, crawling into her mother’s lap, though there is not much room. “They can’t make you play with a baby in your belly.”

“Shhh.” Y/N rocks her gently. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“So that’s it? We just give up?”

“No,” Y/N locks eyes with her son. “We’re not giving up, we’re gonna fight. Every victor, all of us, to try and stop the games.”

“Maybe you can stop it.” Arista nods, against Y/N’s chest.

“Maybe we can,” Y/N agrees, “but if we can’t, just incase, we need to talk about-”

“Is Aunt Madge gonna take us?”

“That’s the very last resort.” Haymitch admits, “we don’t know whose names they’re gonna call, even then, someone else could volunteer. Ideally, one of us will be able to-”

“So what you’re saying is that after this two weeks we might never see you again?”

“We’re going to do everything we can.” Haymitch promises.

“But it’s possible?” Everest is confused, outraged.

“Yes. It’s possible.”

The days run together, between training and spending as much time with their children as they can. On that last night, the children sleep between them, Y/N on one side and Haymitch on the other, clinging to this moment.

Cruelly, inevitably, the sun rises. Madge is at their door and Y/N comes to answer, while Haymitch and the children ready themselves.

Her sister says not a word, pulling Y/N in for a hug.

“Thank you for coming.” Y/N breathes, smoothing down the younger woman’s hair.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Madge wishes she could do more. “I’ll do my part here and wait for you to come home.”

“They need you, Madge. Now more than ever.”

Madge only holds her tighter. “I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

Peacekeepers are sent to collect them, marching the four victors to the justice building. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen trail closely behind Madge and the Abernathy children, one clasped in each hand.

“Welcome, welcome,” Effie begins her speech, “as we celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary and third Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games.”

From his place on the stage, Haymitch can see his children. The boy, that squawked like a bird the first time he was placed in Haymitch’s arms, reminding him that the world might not be such a terrible place. The girl, that had him wrapped around her little finger before she could speak and gave him reason to dream. They look to him in fear now. Fear that they will lose their mother, fear that they will lose him.

“As always, ladies first.”

Y/N reaches for Katniss’ hand. There is nothing to hope for, no favorable outcome.

Effie draws the name, clearing her throat before announcing. “Y/N Abernathy.”

Madge lifts Arista into her arms, hushing the little girl as best she can, but she is distraught. Her hiccuping sobs causing the crowd to shift uncomfortably. Prim scoots in to rub her back.

Everest does not move. He does not blink and he does not cry. Forever ingraining this image of his mother in his mind.

Y/N can’t risk a glance at Haymitch. She knows how deeply the knife is buried in his chest, how the guilt will twist it, now and for years to come.

Katniss jerks her back almost forcefully, “no.”

“It’s ok,” Y/N whispers.

“I volunteer.”

“Katniss, please don’t do this.” Y/N pleads, but they are out of time, they are out of good choices.

“I volunteer as tribute.” Katniss announces, with more certainty the second time. Pulling her hand from Y/N’s to stand beside Effie, at the center of the stage.

“Wonderful.” Effie swallows down her sorrow, the show must go on, “and now for the male.”

Y/N’s head is light, spinning as if she might faint. Her lungs burn, perhaps she has stopped breathing.

“Haymitch Abernathy.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Peeta says, without hesitation.

“I can’t let you do that,” Haymitch stops him, with a hand to his chest.

“You can’t stop me.” Peeta narrows his eyes.

“Peeta-”

“Let go.”

Haymitch has no choice but to obey. Sending their victors back as tributes, erasing all they’ve done.

“Very well,” Effie sniffs, hoping to regain some composure, “the tributes from district twelve; Katniss Everdeen…and Peeta Mellark.”

The entirety of their district raises three fingers in solidarity. They are not alone in this sadness; this defeat. Among the crowd, Y/N finds her mother, who has not been coherent enough to attend a reaping since her own.

She’s never blamed her mother, not for her absence or her addiction, nor the inability to move past Maysilee’s untimely death. Y/N cannot imagine losing her little sister, part of her would die too.

The idea that maybe she could talk to her before she leaves, maybe her mother has some divine words of wisdom or comfort-

Commander Thread takes Katniss by the arm, robbing her and Peeta of the chance to say goodbye. Y/N and Haymitch are carted away shortly after. Straight to the train station.

The ride is silent for a long while; eventually the four of them find each other, dutifully seated in the blue velveteen chairs. Drawn together like magnets, though there are no words.

Haymitch slumps down in his chair, extending his free hand to Y/N.

She takes it, the same way she always has, with a love and understanding that Haymitch is sure he will never deserve. But that is the problem with love; with life, really. So rarely does anyone get what they deserve.

Y/N continues preparing her presentation for the morning, detailing the participating victor’s strengths and weaknesses. Hesitating at each name she knows well.

Cashmere and Gloss, district one…

The train car doors open and Effie joins them, “before we begin, I’ve had a thought.”

“You don’t say.”

Effie gives Haymitch the side eye, pressing on in spite of his remark. “Katniss has her gold mockingjay pin, I have my hair.” The swirling golden updo. “I’m going to get the three of you something gold.”

Y/N finally looks up.

“And why is that?” Haymitch wonders, sipping at his teacup, containing a bit more than leaves.

“A token! Show them we are a team, and they can’t just-”

“Thank you,” Katniss says, taking Effie’s hand.

Peeta’s gaze softens. He’s accepted his fate, the only thing to do now is make sure Katniss is happy, keep her alive.

————————————————————————

No expense is spared for this very special Quarter Quell. A new training center and tribute living quarters are waiting to greet them in the Capitol.

“I want you to forget everything you think you know about the games.” Haymitch cuts through the silence. “Last year was child’s play, this year you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”

“Ok. What does that mean for us?” Peeta asks.

“It means you’re going to need some allies.”

“No.” Katniss shoots him down.

“Do it your own way, but we know these people and if you go it alone their first move will be to hunt you down.”

“Katniss, I know it’s not easy for you to trust them,” Y/N understands how difficult this all must be. “So you’re just gonna have to trust us.”

“Fine, show me.”

Y/N makes for her tablet, dimming the lights as her slideshow is put to the big screen.

“This should be good.” Peeta relaxes farther into the loveseat beside Katniss.

“Cashmere and Gloss. Brother and sister from district one, they won back to back games, Capitol favorites, lots of sponsors.”

“This is your first choice?” Katniss nearly chokes on her own saliva.

“Well,” Y/N swipes to the next screen, “they’re careers so they are extremely lethal. A few other positive attributes would be strength, agility, very intelligent. They offer protection, opportunities for better sponsors-”

“Despite some favoritism and general bias on her part,” Haymitch motions to Y/N, “this a strong choice.”

Katniss nods, she’ll consider it. For Y/N.

“From district three, Wiress and Beetee. Not fighters, but brilliant and…weird, real tech savvy.”

“We chose them because they offer a unique skill set-”

“Yes.” Katniss agrees, surprising even Peeta.

“O-ok,” Y/N moves to the next contender. “This is Finnick, from district four.”

“He won his games at fourteen, youngest ever. Don’t let that fool you, he’s incredibly humble.”

“You’re kidding.” Katniss scoffs.

“Yes, he’s a peacock, a total preener,” Haymitch does not mince words, “but he’s the Capitol darling, they love him here, lots of sponsors.”

“Very skilled in combat, especially in water.”

They carry on like this for some time, through Johanna in seven, Chaff and Seeder in eleven. Leaving Peeta and Katniss much to discuss as they retire for the night.

“You think she’ll come around?” Y/N dares to ask.

“You want me to be honest?” Haymitch tosses wayward hair from his eyes.

“Yes.”

“It’s gonna take a miracle.”

————————————————————————

Watching Haymitch’s games is a necessary evil, giving them some insight into the craftings of a Quarter Quell arena. The landscape is nothing short of paradise. Vibrant colors, beautiful creatures and a feast, complete with candy, weapons, anything a tribute could ask for; right at the cornucopia.

But the food is poison and the wildlife is deadly, in the games nothing is ever as it seems.

Though Haymitch does not fall prey to the gamemarker’s trap, many tributes do. He goes it alone for a while, ending up head to head with a pack of allies. He fights, better than Katniss imagines anyone could without experience; managing to take down two out of three opponents, before the knife is held to his throat.

The girl who spares him looks familiar, in a way that Katniss can’t place, sporting the same gold mockingjay pin she was given at the hob. “We’d live longer with two of us.”

“She looks like Madge.” Peeta voices this before Katniss can.

“She’s my mom’s little sister,” Y/N explains.

And then it all makes sense, or none of it does. Another layer to their mentor’s great ‘love story’ for Katniss and Peeta to attempt dissecting, in a bizarre form of pillow talk.

Haymitch has found the edge of the arena, Maysilee wants to turn back and he doesn’t. “We should say goodbye now. There’s only five of us, don’t want it to come down to the two of us.”

“Ok,” Haymitch lets her go.

Her screams follow not long after, the bubblegum pink birds begin tearing through her throat with razor sharp beaks.

Y/N remains glued to the screen, though the ending never changes and she cannot raise the dead.

In the end, Haymitch puts the force field to good use, leading the last career and her axe to the cliff side. Holding intestines inside his body with one hand, he waits for the weapon to ricochet; burying its blade in her skull.

“That was smart.” Katniss purses her lips.

“Too smart,” Haymitch bites out in warning, “do not attempt it. That move got my family killed.” He leaves without a word.

Y/N doesn’t go after him. Sometimes Haymitch needs to be alone and if she chases him, he won’t run. He’s too good a man and he loves her too much. He would stay, even as every cell in his body yearns to go.

————————————————————————

Haymitch returns, after a bottle or two and a very interesting talk with Plutarch. There is a plan, one to extract the victors from the arena, all they have to do is stay alive until then. He searches the tribute living quarters for Y/N, finding her already asleep in their bed.

He is determined not to wake her, flipping off the forgotten light overhead and changing out of his suit.

She stirs as he draws back the covers. “Haymitch?”

“Shh,” he climbs in behind Y/N to cradle her belly, “sleep.”

“Is everything ok?” She reaches back, stroking his hair.

“Everything is fine.” He finds her hand, kissing at her wrist and fingers, before gently lying it back on the bed.

Y/N nuzzles farther against him, “ok.”

“You know I’m always coming back, right? No matter what.” Their child shifts under his palm.

“I know,” she nods.

“If anything ever happened to you-”

“Haymitch, you don’t need to say it.”

Yes I do. “When I lost my family, I kept going. Out of spite, or insanity, whatever it was that kept me going, I did it. But if you were gone…if our kids were gone; I couldn’t. I need you safe. I need you.”

“You have me.” Y/N breathes, “right here. Just you and me.”

Part 13

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