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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 months ago

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The Ballad of Maysilee Donner

Chapter 2/2 | 5,643 words | Contains Spoilers for SOTR

The President appeared to take great satisfaction in his next words: “Put simply, my dear Ms. Donner… Snow lands on top.” She knew that it would be suicide to mock his cringe-inducing aphorism. It took great amounts of restraint not to end it all that instant.

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Maysilee took her seat.

“Well?” President Snow asked, smiling. “Aren’t you going to thank me for saving your life?”

She said nothing.

“Ah, that’s right. I do recall your opinions on begging. Namely, that you would rather die than do it.”

So he’d spied on the District 12 tributes’s apartment. Not exactly a surprise, but disturbing all the same. Was this how he’d tried to get into Haymitch’s head?

“The Gamemakers were eager to kill you with those mutts, you know, after you murdered one of their own,” Snow continued with a knowing smile.

Maysilee thought back to that moment in the arena, her complete lack of hesitation as she’d sunk the poison dart into the Peacekeeper’s flesh. She did not regret it, not in the way she regretted killing other children from the districts. In fact, given the opportunity, she would gladly do it again.

She glanced pointedly down at the two dead Peacekeepers beside the table. “Did they know the candy was poisoned?”

President Snow followed her gaze. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. Either way, they knew they had no choice but to accept my offer.”

Maysilee looked up sharply. “Your offer was death.”

Snow met her eyes and smiled, spreading those dry lips so far that Maysilee half-expected them to crack. “I think you and I both know there are far worse fates than death, Ms. Donner.” He looked her over appraisingly. “But still… you’re here.”

She shifted in her chair. She had asked for this. “I wanted Haymitch to win,” she said, and it was at least part of the truth.

“You could have simply accepted your death in the arena,” Snow countered. “I assume that the people of District 12 have worked very hard to keep your grandmother’s identity a secret for the past forty years. Yet you threw it all away to save your life.”

Maysilee didn’t know what to make of the President’s expression. It was not one of contempt, nor was it pity—it almost looked something like respect. Which, considering his words, made absolutely no sense.

“It was her idea,” she told Snow. “For my father and sister, too.”

For a second she wondered if she was endangering her family, speaking of them at all, but reasoned that Snow must know everything already. The only thing keeping him away in the past had been her grandmother’s well-kept secret, a vital missing connection that had prevented the President from tracking her down. But ever since Maysilee’s last-ditch effort in the games, Snow had undoubtedly exhausted all of his resources in District 12 to learn everything he could. Her grandmother hadn’t spoken of the man’s personality often, but she had mentioned his obsessive tendencies.

Maysilee obviously hadn’t said anything at the time, but a little part of her had wondered what that would be like—to have someone hopelessly obsessed with her, appreciating her as more than half of a matching set. It had been a comforting notion, once.

She knew better now. And she needed to be careful—if not for her own sake, then for the sake of her loved ones.

“But my father was never chosen for the Games,” Maysilee said, “and my sister…”

Has two more years left, she did not tell the President. They both already knew.

“Yes, well, the odds are that she will make it past eighteen,” President Snow said, neutrally. “I’m surprised that your name was selected at all, given your family’s status in 12. No tesserae for you, am I correct?”

Maysilee frowned. Something about his comment felt distinctly wrong. She was a snob, sure, but not like that. The entire tesserae system was despicable, and she was no more or less deserving of protection than the kids from the Seam.

“You know, the tesserae were my invention,” Snow boasted. He spoke as if they were having a perfectly casual conversation, amused by the novelty of pretending someone could match his authority. It was all an act, of course—standard behavior of self-important people like Caesar Flickerman and that hag Drusilla. But unlike the tactless Haymitch, Maysilee had been playing these sorts of social games long before her time in the arena. She could match Snow’s smugness and then some.

“Oh, really,” she replied, looking down at her nails. Someone had removed the chipped paint during her recovery-slash-imprisonment.

“Indeed. I had the idea not long after my visit to District 12—one you’ve heard much about, I’m sure.”

“Not at all,” said Maysilee. “Must not have been important.”

Snow was far too experienced to lose his composure, but Maysilee knew she’d injured his ego. Not a large injury by any means, more like a paper cut, but still—it felt like a win.

“And as for my grandmother,” Maysilee continued, picturing the hidden grave in the woods of 12,“you definitely can’t catch her now.”

Snow exhaled sharply. Maysilee wondered what it had been like for him, to learn that she’d survived and died in one fell swoop. Just as her grandmother had predicted, he still cared after all these years.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Maysilee told the President. “She did mention some things about you… like how you cheated her out of the games. She was convinced she could rely on you for that, at least.”

Snow did not respond to her taunt. Instead, he gingerly examined the object that had prompted this conversation in the first place.

“She aged poorly,” he said, staring down at the photograph in the locket. The free-spirited older woman seemed out of place among his meticulously arranged refreshments. “Nearly unrecognizable.” He then looked up at Maysilee. “In the Capitol, we have ways to ensure that we maintain our youthful appearances.”

She tilted her head. “Really? Where?”

Snow chuckled at that, but she could tell the insult had landed.

“Ms. Donner,” he said, “I think there might be a misunderstanding between us.”

“Is there.”

“I am not your enemy. Your grandmother understood this, which is why she instructed you to reveal your lineage as a safeguard. And you must have also understood this, or else you would not have used the safeguard in the first place.”

Maysilee crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re an enemy to this entire country.”

“Perhaps to the districts I am,” Snow admitted, “but somebody needs to keep the masses in line. Without my safeguarding, there would only be chaos. And you fail to see, Ms. Donner, that I am incredibly generous towards those who fall in line.”

Maysilee glanced again at the dead Peacekeepers.

Snow waved away the unspoken accusation. “They were district.”

Maysilee had heard ‘district’ used in such a fashion by a few residents of the Capitol before the games, but it felt distinctly more sinister coming from the dry lips of the President himself.

“My grandmother was district,” she said, although her grandmother would have declared herself Covey.

Snow wore an expression of distaste at the notion. “Yes, she was. She proved as much on the day of our parting.”

Maysilee knew only the basics of that day: her grandmother had planned to run away with a young President Snow and escape Panem altogether, but he’d proven himself untrustworthy and she’d fled. His subsequent violent reaction to this had further reinforced her grandmother’s decision to sever their connection.

Maysilee had wondered, while hearing the story, what exactly her grandmother had ever seen in the man who she’d so quickly and remorselessly abandoned. It was hard to imagine the person sitting across from her being romantically compatible with anyone, never mind a free spirit like Lucy Gray Baird.

Ultimately, though, Maysilee did not care about the nuances of a three-month relationship that ended forty years ago. Unlike her late grandmother, she saw no reason to muse about the inherent goodness of people, the fact that Snow could have been different, the tragedy of the person he’d become.

Honestly, Maysilee just wanted Snow dead.

The simplicity of her desires washed over her like a tidal wave. She wanted Snow dead. She was still alive, somehow, after begging for her life in a way that Snow was determined to frame as undignified. But she would not let him paint that picture of her. She refused to give the Capitol any part of herself worth keeping. Regardless of her grandmother’s wishes, she would not beg Coriolanus Snow for protection. She would die with her head held high, and maybe, just maybe—

Maybe she could take the President out with her.

“To be quite honest, Ms. Donner, I have found myself impressed by your activity since the reaping.”

Maysilee’s head shot up, her desires temporarily forgotten.

President Snow chuckled. “Don’t look too surprised, my dear. You know your strengths as well as I do. And despite coming from District 12, you settle for no less than the dignity that sophistication brings.”

She shifted uncomfortably at the compliment. Snow noticed.

“And of course, your use of poison during the Games was inspired,” he added, glancing down at the bag of gumdrops on the table.

“Were those your creation?” Maysilee asked, although she already knew the answer.

Snow nodded. “I plan to use them in the near future, and thought a test of effectiveness was in order.”

Maysilee wondered if she was the eventual target of his creation. As if reading her mind, Snow shook his head.

“Not to worry, they’re bound for District 12.”

Maysilee’s blood turned cold.

“You see, your friend Haymitch has forced my hand,” the President said indifferently. “He is a fool and will suffer the consequences.”

“How?” Maysilee asked, scowling. “He won the games on TV. Everyone saw it. You can’t just dispose of him and get away with it.”

Not how you could dispose of me, she did not say. Dispose of me, or worse.

“Astute as ever, Ms. Donner,” said Snow. “No, Haymitch will live the life of a victor whether he wishes it or not. I simply plan to make that life incredibly unpleasant to endure.”

Maysilee couldn’t help but feel relieved at that. But then she realized what he meant, when he’d said the gumdrops were bound for 12.

“They’re innocent,” Maysilee told the President. “His loved ones, they’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Acts of sedition must be supressed by any means necessary,” Snow instructed, as if he was a teacher and she a student. “There is no greater harm than that which chaos poses.”

“Really?” challenged Maysilee, “Because it sounds like you’ve made it your life’s goal to be a greater harm than anyone or anything else.”

Snow seemed genuinely taken aback by the accusation. Not exactly enraged, or even hurt, but affected all the same.

“A scathing observation,” he eventually said. “Your perceptiveness is a quality that will serve you well.”

His statement played back in her head: A quality that will serve her well.

“Your refusal to accept mistreatment is also commendable,” Snow continued. “It demonstrates a principle very close to my heart: that despite the squalor they might find themselves in, worthy people will always demand the dignity they deserve. And as such, they deserve the dignity they demand.”

The President appeared to take great satisfaction in his next words: “Put simply, my dear Ms. Donner… Snow lands on top.”

She knew that it would be suicide to mock his cringe-inducing aphorism. It took great amounts of restraint not to end it all that instant.

“You may not be a Snow by blood,” the President told Maysilee, “but you have the unmistakable makings of a fine Capitolite. I once felt the same way about your grandmother, before she revealed her true colors. But I see your true colors, Ms. Donner, because they are so very similar to my own. And I must admit that you are even better suited for this life than she ever could have been.”

“I am nothing like you,” Maysilee lied.

“Fundamentally, we are all the same,” Snow said, almost wistfully. “I learned this when I was not much older than you are now. Humans are evil by nature, and unchecked they will always resort to depravity. A functional society is maintained through the use of a social contract, which restricts the human tendency towards evil through any means necessary.”

Maysilee gripped the white silk covering her thigh. “The Hunger Games are depraved. The Capitol is depraved.”

“As are the districts, and their attempts at rebellion.”

“The districts haven’t tried to rebel in fifty years.”

Maysilee knew she had conceded as soon as the words left her mouth. Satisfied, Snow made a gesture as if to ask, ‘you see?’

“Fundamentally, we are all the same,” he repeated. “The only difference between us and them—between the Capitol and the districts, between yourself and Haymitch Abernathy—is that the worthy refuse to consider themselves victims.” Snow motioned to Maysilee and then to himself. “We, Ms. Donner, are the victors.”

She scowled. He sighed. “And besides,” Snow continued, “I have made plenty of my own sacrifices to ensure the stability of Panem. A loveless marriage, for one, although that is standard fare for the Capitol’s elite.”

Of course it is, thought Maysilee. And she could see the logic in it, as sad as it was. The single time she’d felt romantic love had nearly destroyed her. She was pretty much over it now—she’d had no other choice, really—but she still had to be careful whenever Burdock Everdeen came around Merchant’s Row to bother Asterid.

“And there is also the matter of personnel management,” said Snow, seemingly displeased by Maysilee’s wandering mind. His smile was especially sinister as he told her, “You see, with the rumors surrounding my political ascendency, it has taken a certain finesse to convince people that I am only serving them that which I myself would consume.” The President paused for dramatic effect. “Unfortunately for them, I have developed quite a tolerance for poison.”

Maysilee narrowed her eyes. “I can tell.”

“Such is the price of prosperity,” Snow said, waving the insult away. “A price that you have already paid yourself, and that I am inclined to reward.”

Reward? Was he insane?

“Normally I look down on beggars and cowards,” Snow explained, “but I see your desperate appeal for what it truly was: survival. You advocated for your dignity, Ms. Donner, just as I advocated for mine so many years ago. You have not bowed to those beneath you—you have looked upwards instead.”

So he was projecting. She could have guessed that sooner, but there was no denying it now. President Snow may have been the most powerful person in the country, but he was also an emotionally unintelligent prick steeped in delusion and poorly nursing a breakup that happened forty years ago. Maysilee’s mind raced with the implications of the weakness the President had so shamelessly exposed, only pausing when Snow abruptly changed the subject again.

“Are you familiar with the Plinth family name, Ms. Donner?”

“No.”

It was, apparently, the right answer. “Excellent,” said Snow. “That is how it should be.”

Maysilee wondered what the hell the Plinth family had ever done to deserve such contempt from Snow. Probably something amazing, she guessed.

The President sighed. “But—just between us—I will admit that my own family once experienced a period of poverty. In the Capitol, no less! But I always knew what I deserved. I made friends in the right places. And soon enough, I found myself inheriting a sizable fortune, restoring the Snow family name and attending the higher education necessary to pursue my goals.”

Maysilee tried to piece together why Snow had chosen to share this information. So he’d come from old money but lost it, was poor in the Capitol but still fancied himself a rich person, and had networked his way into someone else’s fortune, which he now claimed as his own. But had he come by the money fairly, or had he somehow threatened the Plinths into handing it over? Where were the Plinths now? Grim as it was, Maysilee already knew the answer. They were probably as dead as the Peacekeepers on the floor.

And what exactly did she have to do with any of this?

“Ms. Donner, I would like to offer you that same chance,” said President Snow, as if it was the most logical conclusion in the world. “I have a cousin who has grown to resist my company,”—Maysilee did not blame her—“and she has become lonely and unpopular in my absence. She would gladly take you in, allowing you to attend the finest of schooling and possess the finest of things.”

Snow seemed proud of his offer. He also seemed slightly wounded by the fact that his cousin, whoever she was, had apparently rejected him. Maysilee wondered if he had considered poisoning her too, or if the people related to him were strictly off-limits. Perhaps giving his cousin Maysilee was a way for Snow to earn her favor again, or at least restore her status in the eyes of the Capitol. It would be embarrassing for him, Maysilee guessed, to have an unmarried childless hag as a blood relative in the public eye. In that sense, at least, the Capitol and the districts were roughly the same.

“How would you even explain that?” Maysilee heard herself ask. “A random teenager, suddenly living among the Capitol’s finest?”

Snow smiled. “You need only claim that you were a child of district rebels, mercifully collected and rehabilitated by the ever-generous Capitol.”

Maysilee recoiled at the idea. And then she thought of Lou Lou.

“I know what you do to children of district rebels,” she said, her words dripping with disdain.

Snow sighed. “Yes, that was nasty business, wasn’t it? We have my late mentor and former Head Gamemaker, Dr. Volumnia Gaul, to thank for the practice. Like myself, she believed it was a shame to let human lives go to waste.”

The callous irony of the sentiment nearly took Maysilee’s breath away.

“What happened to her?” she managed to ask, although of course she already knew.

Snow scowled. “She choked on her milk and crackers.” And then it was all pleasant smiles again.

Maysilee didn’t really know where to go from here. “Wouldn’t I be recognized?” she asked, glancing down at the spread of refreshments on the table. She’d assumed they were all poisoned as part of this little mind game, but considering the apparent earnestness of Snow’s offer…

“Perhaps you strike a slight resemblance to that district girl from the games,” the President shrugged. “But you’re not district, are you, Ms. Donner?”

Yes, she was. Of course she was. Maysilee Donner was born in District 12 to a mother and father from District 12. She was granddaughter to a member of the Covey, but that was not a designation that held any weight to the greater social consciousness of Panem. To her knowledge, Maysilee had absolutely no Capitol blood, and had never personally met a Capitol resident until she’d been reaped for the Hunger Games.

But she was also not stupid. She understood what President Snow was trying to suggest—that despite all of that, she belonged in the Capitol, not the districts. She was discerning and prideful, with a love for material goods and an aversion to the chaos of nature. She spoke eloquently, was impressively well-educated for a District 12 resident, and excelled in elaborate social games. She preferred poison to outright violence. In the Games, she had insisted upon refined eating practices despite the hunger consuming her. And ultimately, given the chance to get herself out of the arena, she’d cheated her way to survival.

And she was a snob, wasn’t she? The meanest girl in town. A deserved title, because Maysilee had judged pretty much everyone in District 12. She’d judged them for their utilitarian means of survival, the implicit submission radiating from their appearances as they accepted the Capitol’s scraps and fashioned them into attire. She’d resented their reflexive disdain for the finer things enjoyed by the Capitol, things they in the districts could not have, and their disinterest in reclaiming those things as their own. She’d felt envious of nearly every District 12 resident—even those living in the Seam, who may have been poor but were still legally entitled to marry people they actually loved. Maysilee had judged them all for having the things she could not, and not wanting the things she herself had. And perhaps more than anything else, Maysilee had judged herself for judging everyone else so harshly, when she knew damn well that she would never escape that candy shop, would never reclaim a single thing from the Capitol, and would almost certainly end up marrying a man and having his babies just like every other woman in 12.

That last part, at least, would not be changed by Snow’s offer. Surely if the Capitol cared enough to make the rule for the districts, they also followed it themselves. It was almost a relief to recognize this, that even if she accepted the offer she’d ultimately be unhappy—but still, Maysilee couldn’t bring herself to leave it alone.

“I still wouldn’t be free,” she heard herself say. “In the Capitol, I mean.”

Snow put his chin in his hand. “And why would that be?”

She looked him dead in the eyes. “Because unlike you, I’m not willing to enter a sham marriage to maintain social status. And any marriage I could legally have in Panem would be a sham.”

It did not take Snow long to determine her meaning. In response, he just laughed. “Ms. Donner,” Snow said, “I’ll have you know that we in the Capitol are entirely supportive of same-sex relationships. There is complete equality here, both in terms of cultural reputation and human rights. I am, quite frankly, insulted that you would assume anything otherwise.”

Maysilee scowled. “Tell that to your Peacekeepers in the districts, then. People lose their jobs, even go to jail, if they’re discovered with a partner of the same sex.”

Snow nodded. “Of course they do. People in the districts are no more complex than animals, and that is all the government requires them to be. They live, they work, they breed, they die. We in the Capitol are far more civilized than District breeding stock, and therefore we celebrate the many variations that human existence has to offer.”

For the first time in this entire conversation, Maysilee genuinely considered her prospective place in Capitol society. She imagined herself accepting Snow’s offer—moving in with his wealthy cousin, freely pursuing her interests, being shown respect without needing to fight for it. She thought of Asterid, all of those foolish daydreams she’d tried so hard to forget. There were people like her in the Capitol who had never been told to deny who they were. That alone was an incredible temptation.

Of course, Maysilee would not be accepting President Snow’s offer. Even if Snow genuinely believed that he was offering her a better life, Maysilee knew that the deal was entirely conditional on her novelty to him. Sitting across from her grandmother’s former flame, she understood exactly why the free-spirited young woman had left him in the dust.

In terms of value, Snow clearly regarded Maysilee just as he’d regarded Lucy Gray Baird. The respect for her boldness and pride, the compulsive distancing from the districts, the offer of protection and care. All graciously offered, up until the moment she did something he hadn’t liked. Then she’d betrayed him. Then, she’d been district through and through.

As undisputed leader of both the Capitol and Panem itself, Snow’s sensibilities were the law. The definitions of ‘district’ and ‘Capitol’ were informed by his beliefs, his legislature, the sycophants and slaves who fell for his relentless propaganda. Within this system, the double standards between the districts and Capitol made perfect sense—in fact, they were the entire point. According to Coriolanus Snow, all people were fundamentally the same; but in order for some to prosper, others had to suffer. Even love itself had been made a commodity in Panem, a Capitol entitlement that the districts had been subsequently denied. And somehow, this was meant to be right. To be just. To be peace.

President Snow painted the posters. All of them. And it was not lost on Maysilee that he had dressed the granddaughter of Lucy Gray Baird in silk pure as snow.

“My grandmother believed you could still be good until the day she died,” Maysilee told the old man. “She said, as long as a person’s heart is still beating, there’s still a chance for them to change.”

He looked intrigued. “And do you agree, Maysilee Donner?”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t think you want to change.”

“I am capable of cruelty, I admit,” said Snow in the understatement of the century. “But I am also capable of kindness. Your grandmother understood this, despite everything, and that is why you’re here.” More softly, he added, “She was cruel, too, you know. She took lives in that arena and could very well have taken mine in District 12.”

“I wish she had,” said Maysilee.

President Snow sighed once again, his faux-pleasant act finally waivering. “And so Lucy Gray Baird has left me yet another snake, wrapped in my own gift of silk. Poised to bite.”

Maysilee didn’t deny it. “But you still want to help me?”

“It should not come as a surprise that I am invested in a snake’s preservation.”

He was speaking to her in a new way now. There were no airs to it. President Snow seemed very, very tired.

“I have plainly stated my intentions,” he told Maysilee. “You can trust me to honor them.”

“Is that what you told my grandmother?”

“Yes,” Snow said immediately. He paused in a moment of deliberation, frowning. “I regret it often.”

Maysilee blinked. What did that mean? President Snow did not seem like a person who regretted things—and if he did, it would be counterproductive to his entire philosophy to admit it out loud. To the descendent of his former love, no less.

She waited for an explanation but received none. Snow seemed to have recovered, eyeing her expectantly.

“As much as I am enjoying our conversation, Ms. Donner, there are other matters that require my attention. So… what do you think?”

Maysilee took a very deep breath.

“I think you should kill yourself.”

Snow’s eyes widened, as if scandalized by the very notion. But before he could cut in with admonishment, Maysilee went in for more.

“Although I guess that would be harder for you than most,” she said thoughtfully, “with the way you eat poison like it’s candy. As something of a candy expert myself, I would assume that it still goes down sweet… but you haven’t tasted sweetness in a long time, have you, President Snow?” With a smirk, she glanced down at her grandmother’s picture. “Not in forty years, I’d bet.”

Snow scowled. Maysilee was just getting started. “Forty years,” she said, “and this is all you have to show for it?” She motioned to the entire bizarre situation: herself in strange clothing, the table setting between them, the dead Peacekeepers on the floor. “First with Haymitch, and now here with me.” She hadn’t gotten much out of Haymitch about his one-on-one meeting with the President, but the things she had heard were pretty damning. “You’re pathetic,” she informed Snow. “I’m not fan of Lenore Dove on a personal level, but I respect her more than I could ever respect someone like you. You’re so convinced you’re both the victim and the victor, depending on whichever status flatters you most. A basic, garden-variety hypocrite. A sad, spiteful fossil who will never love or be loved in a way that matters. Embarrassing.”

Snow’s eyes narrowed. “That’s enough, Miss Don—”

“You told me that people are naturally evil,” Maysilee continued. “That it’s necessary to abuse them just to keep them in line. That’s not meanness, that’s not even cruelty. It’s a dark pit of despair, and I think you decided a long time ago that there’s no escape.” She regarded him with every ounce of disdain she had. “Maybe you’re so broken that you like it better this way. Whatever the case, I don’t think there’s an antidote strong enough to neutralize the poison in your veins.”

Maysilee looked down at her unpainted nails, her tone cool as strawberry ice cream but not nearly as sweet. “I hope that Panem does escape, though. Even if it takes decades, I hope the people of the districts—hell, the Capitol too—help each other out of this arena you’ve placed them in.” She looked up again, meeting Snow’s eyes. “I wish I could be there to help them, but I’ll still die happy knowing that your time will eventually come.”

It was in this moment that Maysilee understood the appeal of the mockingjay. Previously she’d found them unpleasant, off-putting, as the offspring of natural mockingbirds and Capitol mutts. Something so connected to the Capitol had no place flittering around District 12, she’d thought. And she’d been very, very wrong.

She hoped Merrilee would put that pin to good use.

“It’s like my grandmother said,” Maysilee told President Snow. “Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.” She scoffed at his sour expression. “But you, President Snow, have everything to lose. There are far worse fates than death, and your life might just be the worst among them. And if I’m headed for heaven, or maybe even hell… I’m proud to go out singing.”

Maysilee panned her gaze to the President’s gloves. “Also, you have blood on your hands.”

He seethed. “I’m not the only one.”

“Yeah, well, I was in the Hunger Games,” said Maysilee. “What’s your excuse?”

She had hoped to take Snow out before she went, but did not want to give him the satisfaction of torturing her or turning her into another Lou Lou. And so Maysilee Donner reached for the bag of poison gumdrops and prepared to end this nightmare herself.

Snow caught her wrist in his shaking hand.

“I can’t let you do that,” he told Maysilee, his face much paler and sicklier than before. Were those tears in his eyes, or had the heavy clouds of rose aroma just finally penetrated his corneas?

Maysilee stared him down, unsure of how to proceed. Why had he stopped her? Why did he care if she lived or died, after everything she’d just said?

I regret it often, he’d told her before. Maysilee’s eyes widened.

“You’re still trying to protect her,” she said, incredulously.

Snow bowed his head. “Always.”

The only thing Maysilee understood is that she’d just bought herself a little more time. She withdrew her arm, sat back in her seat, and assessed the spread of refreshments before her.

Snow lifted his head and watched her think. Slowly, Maysilee reached for the carafe of coffee, her eyes fixed on the old man’s expression. The gumdrops were the only thing on this table that she knew, for a fact, were poisoned. And if Snow had stopped her when she’d tried to eat them, was it not correct to assume that anything he would let her consume was clean?

Her theory seemed to be correct. He was watchful, but not agitated, as she poured herself a cup of black coffee.

“Milk?” Snow asked tonelessly as she placed down the carafe.

Maysilee shook her head. “I like it black.”

She lifted the porcelain cup to her lips, willing her hands not to shake. But still, as she took a sip she spilled a little bit of the coffee on her white silk dress.

Maysilee looked down on the spill, right over her left thigh. Her eyes then wandered to that damn Peacekeeper on the floor, whose bloody spit had created a small puddle beside his lifeless face. Her eyes scanned down his body until they landed on the automatic rifle at his hip.

Maysilee swallowed her mouthful of coffee.

“Suppose I accept your offer now,” she told Snow, as casually as she could possibly manage. He looked immediately suspicious, but she could catch relief in his expression too. She’d worn him down, clearly, having been spared where he would have likely killed anyone else.

“You’ll see things how I do eventually,” Snow said. And if she were to live in the Capitol, Maysilee believed that she would. There wouldn’t really be any way to live with herself otherwise.

Maysilee nodded, bowing her head in deference. And then, as soon as Snow let his guard down, she flipped the entire table between them.

It happened quickly. Snow pushed away as Maysilee lunged for the gun. Her fingers had barely grazed cool metal when the bullet pierced her chest.

She fell to her knees, overcome by pain. Through tears she looked up to find President Snow standing above her, his small pearl-handle pistol still outstretched.

“I’m sorry,” she heard him gasp. “I’m sorry.”

Maysilee just shook her head, managing one last rueful grin.

“Loser.”

She chuckled at the absurdity of it all—herself collapsed and bleeding after a failed assasination attempt, Snow standing tall after killing her first. And still, she knew she was happier in this moment than he would be in his entire miserable life.

There was nothing left to say. She’d tried to do her part. Maybe, in some small sense, she had. And now she would leave the world the way she’d wanted: wounded, but not bowed.

Maysilee Donner died laughing.

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

Thinking you′re so fine

Thinking you can have mine

Thinking you're in control

Thinking you′ll change me, maybe rearrange me

Think again, if that's your goal

Can′t take my sass

Can't take my talking

You can kiss my ass

Then keep on walking

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping

Oh, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping

#my writing #the hunger games #thg #sunrise on the reaping #sotr #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #maysilee donner #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #snowbaird #because there is very much the implication that they still love/loved each other in some way

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hutchhitched · 3 months ago

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Sunrise on the Reaping Meta (Part 3)

Not gonna lie. Sunrise is my least favorite of the five. I kept hoping it would live up to my expectations, and it did not. That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it, but it’s not the knock-it-out-of-the-park the other four were for me. Thankfully, the final chapter and epilogue saved it for me.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Major spoilers below:

Part of the issue is that we already know the story of Haymitch’s games, and we also know that his family and loved ones are murdered as a result of his actions in the arena. Because of that, there aren’t surprises, and I would have preferred to gloss over the arena and move onto the aftermath. Because we get very little of the aftermath, the ending and Haymitch’s decline into an alcoholic seem rushed and some of the connections with the characters we “want” to see aren’t fully explored. For example, I appreciate that Burdock tries to remain friends with Haymitch, but there needed to be a little more explanation for why Katniss had no idea her father and her mentor were friends than that Haymitch threw something at Asterid’s head and cut it once.

Haymitch realizes after waking from a drunken stupor that Lenore Dove’s “secret” that Maysilee mentions earlier in the book is her propensity to rebel by spray-painting anti-Capitol slogans around District 12. Since that’s revealed following Lenore Dove’s death, the enormity of Haymitch dating a rebel, being best friends with a rebel, and descended from rebels doesn’t seem like such a big deal. A more serious conversation about standing up to the Capitol between Lenore Dove and Haymitch either before his participation in the Games or after his return home would have given this more punch.

Since this book is supposed to be about implicit submission and controlled/faked narratives through propaganda, I was hoping there would be more emphasis on this. The threads are there, but Ballad did such a good job of demonstrating the descent into cruelty and madness through poor choices that I was hoping for more with this book. Plutarch asks Haymitch at one point why he didn’t rebel when he had the chance (sometime in part 2, I think), and that’s the most overt mention. I honestly think this book from Plutarch’s POV would have been more interesting since his job in this novel is to create a specific, modified narrative for District 12. As it is, there are mentions of Haymitch noting the differences in versions of the Games, but it seems barely explored and falls a little flat. In addition, Haymitch isn’t “submitting” up through the time he’s crowned the victor. It’s only after he wins the Games that he realizes he needs to try to protect his family and loved ones by conforming to what Snow wants. I want to “see” the implicit submission instead of wondering where it was in the story.

That said, the final chapter—his visit to the Covey cemetery in the woods—and the epilogue saved the book for me. It’s in the final 20 pages or so that we finally feel Haymitch’s emotions and understand the high stakes he’s managed to survive. His safety and victory lead to losing everyone he loved, including those who lived and he drove away. Losing Lenore Dove, his mother, and his brother are tragedies that understandably mess him up in ways I hope to never experience. It’s his admission that he mated for life with Lenore Dove that explains why he’s alone and miserable by the time he mentors Katniss and Peeta. It’s also the promise to his lost love that keeps him tethered to this world instead of moving onto that one beyond. In the end, Haymitch has integrity and doesn’t die until he’s kept his promise to destroy the Games. His goodness comes through in his care and love for Peeta and Katniss.

I wanted more of that story—of his connections and loyalties, of the way he built relationships that resulted in the rebellion, of his mindset changing from the kind person he was at the beginning of the book to the sarcastic, acerbic, drunk (loveable) asshole he was in the trilogy. The fact that Collins does include some of this is what takes the book from a 3 star to a 4.5 (rounded up to 5) star for me. (This is VERY similar to my take on Margeret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, which is brilliant with the Historical Notes at the end. Before that, I didn’t understand the hype of the book. Once I read the Historical Notes, I could not rave about the book enough. It probably helps that I’m a historian, and all of it made sense.)

One note: There were no block lyrics in the original trilogy and only two songs (Deep in the Meadow and The Hanging Tree). Ballad had several sections of lyrics that I felt contributed to the overall story, although they got repetitive. Sunrise included the entirety of Poe’s The Raven, and it was distracting and unnecessary. If there had been clearer connections between the stanzas and the story, I would have been more on board with this. As it was written, it just felt like I was reading a poem within a story that didn’t contribute to the plot.

A comment on the title: I’m glad that the sun is the focus of this title, especially since “Snow lands on top” was so prominent in Ballad. Since the sun melts (destroys) snow, I like the metaphor.

Last but not least, I was happy to see Lucy Gray’s grave in the Covey cemetery—not because I wanted her dead, but because I think there’s something to be said about individuals attempting to escape District 12 by themselves. I don’t believe Lucy Gray made it to District 13 or is living in the woods secretly on her own. If she survived the gun blast (not necessarily the case), then I believe she revealed herself or was found by other members of the Covey but did not return to District 12 to live. If she had, Snow would have known and arranged for her murder/execution. To me, seeing her grave in the cemetery reveals that she’s deceased. If the cemetery was available for public viewing, I’d be more willing to believe it’s only a memorial stone. Since it’s in a private place far from District 12, I believe her body is buried there. How long she lived is entirely up in the air.

My point is this—Gale considered escaping with Katniss; Katniss considered escaping with Peeta and her family; Snow and Lucy Gray attempt escaping and fail; Haymitch decided to escape and Lenore Dove dies. The only time anyone really leaves District 12 and makes it to District 13 is after the firebombing at the end of Catching Fire. There’s something to be said of an entire district escaping, of leaving Panem together, instead of the bulk of people being left behind to suffer while a small minority gets away and starts a new life beyond the fences. Yes, there is safety in numbers, but there is also humanity in not leaving anyone behind.

Okay, one final last but not least: There are numerous mentions about Haymitch making his own “Poster.” I understand this is a reference being in control of his own narrative and not allowing the Capitol to make him “just another piece in the Games,” but I don’t think it’s very well explained. For it to the title of part 3 of the book…? I could have used a bit more clarity.

My main complaint with this book is that the theme seems to have fallen a bit flat and the Games took too much time. However, this is still Panem, and Collins is a genius to have written this series. Would I have liked the book better if there had been more social commentary and less revealing the connections between Ballad and the original trilogy? Yes, but I’m still thrilled to be back in this world in which hope is greater than fear, empathy and compassion are more powerful than hate, and the sun melts snow. Let it also be so for reality. We are on the brink of this alternative right now, and it is too horrifying to comprehend.

#sotr #sunrise on the reaping #sotr spoilers #sunrise on the reaping spoilers #the hunger games #sotr meta #thg meta

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theirishconstellations · 3 months ago

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Intro post?

i sort of told myself that if i got over 50 followers i would do an intro post cause eh why tf not 🤷‍��️. (i have no idea what i'm doing. ever.)

Hi ? my name's Evyn (irish spelling, i would apologise but my ancestors didn't die for that).

he/him/they (i am that photoshoot of Harry Styles in a tutu.)

ummm what else???

fandoms?? : i only rly post about marauders or the occasional random fandom but only cause i mainly write about them. But these are the other voices in my head:

The Marauders (thanks captain obvious.)

The Hunger Games + prequels

Interview With The Vampire AMC series

Stranger Things

Percy Jackson

DC Batman and all his Robins (I can't pick a favourite so don't ask.)

Hannibal (i couldn't finish the show but i know the plot i promise, hugh dancy marry me pls i beg)

Supernatural (DON'T SPOIL ANYTHING I'M STILL WATCHING IT)

Teen Wolf (AGAIN DON'T SPOIL SHIT)

Good Omens (wtf neil gaiman)

Dead Poets Society

Glee (LOOK! ITS FUNNY OKAY?! AND I'M NOT ASHAMED) - i'm a Puck apologist.

Newsies (where the hell are my JAVEY FICS?!!?!)

Epic: The Musical

Shameless

The Boys

House MD (haven't finished yet)

Spiderverse (idefk how i forgot this)

Andor

i think thats all or at least most, i'm sure i'll kick myself later for forgetting one.

shit what else?

Favourite colour? idfk. (it's green btw)

WIPs:

He Took A Piece Of Me With Him on ao3 (silverwings_jp8!)

All These Things That I've Done on ao3 (silverwings_jp8!)

OCs:

Cain Travers (?) - i'll be honest idk if he counts cause i'm basically stealing him and giving him an actual personality and backstory

Rory Ripley (pls ask about him)

Kins (?):

Sirius Black (major)

Regulus Black (minor)

Barty Crouch Jnr

Jo March

Haymitch Abernathy

Things I do for fun (?):

Ballet (fun might be a strong word, Ballet and I are like an old married couple, we fight but in the end love each other. - note to self: shut up, you sound like a weirdo.)

Cook! (i literally have a coined family recipe, not to brag but i will)

love to read, like an outrageous amount (escapism who?)

Have a terrible sleep schedule

Paint

Plot out all my fics and other stories in my head and then not write them down like an idiot.

Sing (my shower concerts go crazy thank you for asking)

think that i'm funny (i'm not.)

Dance routines with my cousins so that our parents let us have a sleepover.

Things I want to learn but just havent yet cause i'm a lazy sod that should be doing homework rn:

Skateboarding

Bass Guitar

How to function (jokes, but i would like no migranes if that's available for purchase)

Piano

How to successfully put together a flat pack (i'm hopeless but using the drill is fun)

Boxing

How to save money and not use it to buy useless shit.

How to backflip

ANNNDDD that's all i can think of 😭

I'm genuinely an open book so just ask questions about anything 🤷‍♂️

#hi #how do i tag this?#theirishconstellations #marauders #all the fandoms but i cant be arsed to write them all #ask away

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daisyjonesgf · 4 months ago

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You think at some point in her sleep while in district 13 sweetgirl cries out for Conway and Katniss asks Finnick about him. She of course knows the basic stuff but doesn’t know truly how close the two were. It makes her feel so bad for sweetgirl, Katniss has a guy best friend who’s in love with her, someone she’s grown up with, someone who is like her family.

-🌾anon

this got me thinking about how sweet girl probably tweaked out when peeta did the whole "she came here with me" thing during his interview but like she couldn't have a response right away since she was a mentor at the time but like she's instantly panicking inside bc she's getting flashbacks to her own strategy

finnick instantly is grabbing her hand and whispering something to reassure her, and she's keeping her smile on the best she can, encouraging the district 4 tributes once they're off, forcing herself through dinner, but once she's alone with finnick it's just a complete meltdown

(also another side tangent, I was thinking about how in sweet girl's perspective she feels extra bad in her games for conway bc finnick is one of their mentors but is trying to help her win against him, she feels like it makes it worse that she had the advantage, when realistically that's why there's two mentors for districts when available, to help individually with strategy, so like Ondine should have and maybe was helping Conway strategize on his own unbeknownst to sweet girl since we only really have her perspective on that, meaning he could have known about her plot deep down bc Ondine would have been trying to make him aware of it. He would've wanted to deny it, but it does make you wonder how long he was suspicious before she really firmly confirmed it and how much he was playing her too that sweet girl and finnick in their perspectives didn't pick up on)

ANYWAYS still on the first side tangent, sweet girl just absolutely sobbing because she didn't want to be an example and she's scared that's what she's become. when really peeta does love katniss, like maybe haymitch encourage the strategy bc of her being so successful, but peeta wants katniss to win and really does love her. and finnick and sweet girl's tributes both die pretty early on so she has so much time to watch and observe the interactions between peeta and katniss instead of trying to manage sponsors.

she is convinced katniss is faking it back, that it's an act, and it makes finnick believe it too. but absolutely nothing compares to the crash out sweet girl would have when they both win, not bc she's not glad that they both survived meaning less people died, but because it means that could have been her and conway. if she had been smarter, a better person, rather than just being concerned with her own survival and who she really lover, she could have kept the act up forever to try and save him, save them both. but she didn't and it haunts her for months on end. legendary, sobbing, breaking stuff level breakdown.

ANYWAYS SKEWING BACK TO THE MAIN ASK TOPIC I'M SO SORRY finnick would also tell katniss about that

like finnick is talking to katniss about that and how it the quarter quell both of them realized katniss and peeta did really love each other. and katniss yk does know what happened in sweet girl's games, a manipulator was her initial assumption of her that she got over, but the story about her breaking down and when katniss is sneaking around when she shouldn't be, hearing sweet girl call out for conway she wants to know more.

so finnick tells her all of it, how conway and sweet girl grew up together, were best friends, did everything together, his family was basically hers, he was her shoulder to cry on especially when finnick had broken her heart, and how when the chips were down she had to lay all those years of love and friendship and trust aside to put her family first.

and listen I love katniss, she's my #1 girl, but I do think it's fair to assume she would still in her mind at the very least still look down on how sweet girl won her games. she'd be thinking 'I could never do that to gale' but then she would remember how she had thought she was only pretending to love peeta at first, how the plan with the berries was just quick thinking on her part, conway had attacked sweet girl before the games were even up, there were still other tributes alive. sweet girl killed him out of self defense, regardless of her plan to manipulate him to win the games, she didn't want to kill him herself, she just wanted to survive, and katniss understands that too.

who knows how it would have played out if sweet girl and conway had made it to the final two, if she'd never slipped up and ruined the fantasy. would she have actually attacked first when it came down to it? would he? it's easier to absolve sweet girl when the actual death of conway was in response to him stabbing her first.

I'm so sorry, this was all over the place, but I had like one billion different thoughts that it made come forward 😭

#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #the lakes #the river #🌾 anon #finnick

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mzannthropy · 1 year ago

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I never even thought of the point about Prim and Katniss's mother being left alone if she dies in her second games.>> Me too. I only realized it more recently when I rewatched the first and then the second film. I had only seen the first one once, so I decided to see what her situation was like, and she loved her sister and didn't get along with her mother. I also read that if Katiniss died, her family would have to leave the victors' village, and they would have to return the money. So which makes the whole saving Peeta thing pointless and a forced, cheap romance. At the beginning of Catching Fire, she doesn't give Peeta shit, so when the games are announced, her first thought is to save him and not her sister? And is she the one who inspires the rebellion? She doesn't do anything in the second film that shows she's a hero like she did in the first. All she does is treat Finnick badly even after he saved Peeta; not caring about Mags; and she still planned to run away with Peeta, while the others killed themselves. Detail, from the moment she asks Haymitch to save Peeta, it shows that not even she believed in his potential, which makes him weaker than he is. She can't even save him. If it wasn't for Finnick, he would have died at the beginning of the arena.

Nine years of pent up thoughts, feelings and frustrations about this series--and yet I suddenly struggle with what to say!

If any fans should stumble upon this post--please ignore, thanks.

Let me address your last point first: Finnick saves Peeta's life in the arena. Only for him to die himself. Peeta got to live and have kids with Katniss (that she never wanted), two whole people that would not exist had it not been for Finnick. I hope those brats at least learned his name. (In the book, nothing about any of the other characters is acknowledged, what the film did at the end, with Katniss looking at Annie's photo of her with her son, that doesn't happen in the book--clearly even the screenwriters realised some sort of conclusion was needed!). Look, I don't give a fuck about the k/p pairing, let them live their little life in their little meadow or wherever the fuck they are, I just hate how unfairly the series treats everyone else and how many people lost their lives bc of these two.

K/P are presented simultaneously as star-crossed lovers and fake dating to lovers, so both popular tropes and I wonder if that's why they are such a beloved pairing. Personally, I don't buy either. Like I said in your previous ask, the way they both get to win their first games is way too contrived for me. (Are you telling me that, in the previous 73 games, no other district tried to pull a similar "we are in love" stunt? The very fact that a boy and a girl are reaped from each district, pretty much begs for such a stunt, especially as they're teenagers. Or how about pretending to fall in love with someone from a different district, in the arena? That would make for a juicy viewing!)

Then, I don't understand why Katniss became the Mockingjay, other than that she was the main character and the author wanted it so. She doesn't care about the revolution. She's not some Alexei Navalny figure, gods rest his soul. She's a wind up toy that goes "Peeta Peeta Peeta waah waah waah". Am I supposed to be convinced that someone as powerful as President Snow is threatened by one teenage girl??? He could have her killed and make it look an accident or suicide without a blink of an eye. He could have Prim killed and make it look an accident without a blink of an eye. Jesus.

I don't think any particular character should have been the Mockingjay, btw. I think all of them should have been it. At least those that were at the forefront of the revolution. Go full I Am Spartacus, except literally, after all, this is clearly influenced by the gladiator games.

I wonder if fans of this series are all also k/p shippers, bc there isn't in reality anything else. But bc it deals with Serious Issues, it allows people to make deep posts on tumblr about how oppressive governments are wrong and war is bad. And still they get to have their OTP to write fluffy fanfics about.

I was looking through one-star reviews of Mockingjay on Goodreads again and found a recent one, which articulates the problems really well. Also there is a post I reblogged a while ago. I think the "terminal incuriosity of Katniss's POV" hits the nail on the head for me. Curiosity is a trait value highly, so her narration would never work for me.

I know Katniss has trauma. But the thing is, every-fucking-body in Panem has trauma, bc you can't live under an oppressive regime and not have trauma.

Mockingjay is the most disappointing book I've ever read.

#answered #unpopular opinion #suzanne botched it

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chancewon · 2 years ago

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*steeples fingies* we always talk about how the epilogue is so important for katniss, showing her hope and faith in a better world where kids are safe. &* that’s well &* good. but let’s not forget,

it also means peeta feels safe enough with himself &* his own mind to trust himself not to hurt anyone anymore.

I think of that whenever someone complains about the epilogue being ooc for Katniss.

maybe because it doesn’t have to do with what she wants for herself ? she did it for peeta . if anyone deserves just one thing he wanted — the ultimate show of his mind control being gone or at least so in remission that he’s not scared of losing it on a baby — it’s peeta. it’s how Katniss could repay him for what was taken from him.

OBVIOUSLY IM NOT SAYING HE PRESSURED HER OR SHE DIDNT AGREE TO IT. Obv , your body your choice. I’m saying it was her choice. I’m saying she knew there was nothing she could really do for him, except give him a loving family that he never had. He did so much for her that she can’t repay. I don’t know who brought it up — probably Katniss, actually. I think Peeta knew where she stood and wouldn’t have pushed it.

If Katniss can say ‘I never asked for this’ in regards to thg &* her role as mockingjay, Peeta can scream it. He was reaped, not volunteered. He protected Katniss, with no expectation of anything in return. He just didn’t want to see her die. He was 100% not leaving that arena. In the QQ, he volunteered to protect her. He could have let haymitch do it. He went through capitol torture and still gave her life saving info. He lost his mind just as torture to her. He repeatedly tries to get anyone to let him die. Even when he’s brainwashed, he pleads for peace. Stops Katniss from killing herself. Plants her a garden and keeps her company. He could have stayed far from her. But he goes back, no matter how much trauma he’s gone through just by allying with her.

so yeah. I think he deserves a happy ending where he’s holding a baby and his hands aren’t shaking.

#Char rants at 4am #tbt

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dream-to-be-frog · 4 years ago

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hello just watched kate (2021) and. thoughts. spoilers ahead, of course.

things about kate (2021) that make me go ????:

mew is super pretty but. why is she a random white girl in japan.

moreover, why are she and her handler (henceforth known as haymitch because hunger games) both in japan !

it just. does not seem like the story needed to be in japan. it feels like they chose japan for vibez only. oh, there’s cool technology stuff and bright colors! that sure would look nice on screen! we can do some fun weird fetishizy implications about asians while we are at it hehe🤪

like 30 mins into the film @scrambld-egg was like “why’s it always the yazuka?” and like. YEAH. this could have happened in russia or be italian mafia or literally any kind of organized crime anywhere because of how absolutely little relevance it has to the plot.

why is kijima’s brother even a target? why him specifically? what did he do bestey

what does their “crime syndicate” even do? what kind of illegalities do they get into? did anyone even consider this

did anyone consider any of this plot, frankly. like i have to ask.

we all knew haymitch (varrick) was working against her after she suggested retiring and like. that kind of plot twist is fun and all but GOD would it kill y’all to make it more ... something ? dramatic, personal, thought-through ?

like. yeah he is selfish and cruel and obviously groomed her from a time she was vulnerable and a literal fucking child to be his little killer but WHY is he like this. we do not get any backstory for him, even a little.

similarly, what changed for renji that made him so willing to turn his back on family. we kind of see something in that he thinks he can do better than kijima and he got power hungry but for a group that supposedly cares about family he sure was willing to massacre his.

in fact, kijima even said something about how western poisonous mindsets overtook renji and made him turn his back on family and just. okay but for why

it’s just a Lot to kill a child, especially a niece or whatever she was to him. silly

we know kate was trained to be a killer since being literal Baby but like. i wanted to see more flashbacks that made her solidify her implicit trust in haymitch.

i am begging why the FUCK is she even in japan it does not seem like she travels much

for that matter, if she IS the kind of assassin who travels a lot (i miss villanelle at least she fucking made sense), they literally never mention it. they literally do not talk about her life experiences aside from freaky haymitch being a weirdo awful man.

to recap: did she travel for her murder work? if yes, why not say so. if no, why the FUCK is she in japan of all places.

how can you have a story in japan about a woman and make her white

and then have her massacre a bunch of asian men for no reason that we know. i didn’t even know to hate them i just felt bad and there is something unsettling (as an article i found articulated better than i could as i watched) about watching her mindlessly murder a bunch of poc.

like i get the reason why ani was obsessed with kate because she lost everyone and new mother figure saved her life but like

why does kate care so much? if it’s guilt, aside from her quitting because she can’t get over osaka, we don’t see any of her conflict.

i’m just. kind of bitter because the premise and the characters have SO MUCH POTENTIAL but the absolute lack of plot is devastating

and like. i can appreciate a good action movie with zero plot + blood and vibes only but the way that kate started made me genuinely be like oh wow! they sure have a lot to work with i hope they develop things!

things that kate (2021) could have done better to truly live up to all of it’s incredible potential; a list:

listen the actress is super pretty (she reminds me of renfri from the witcher and i would DIE for renfri) but like. she should have been half-japanese.

when ani tells kate “we’re the same” .... girl help that would he SO MUCH FUCKING BETTER if kate was half japanese.... kate would literally see herself in ani, a half-japanese girl who is forced to grow up too soon with too much violence around her.... the parallels between the lives they could lead and have lead would be so much cooler....

and it would goddamn explain why the FUCK she was in japan oh my god it is just so seems white savioury even though kate doesn’t play the hero and like

a flashback scene (NOT a flash of one) where she was younger and haymitch was coaching her and something goes wrong and you see that weird freaky deaky bond demonstrating her implicit trust in him.

how can you have ani LITERALLY SAY “i’m the last person you’ll ever get to know. are you sure you don’t want to know me? that’s sad, kate. that’s sad.” AND LITERALLY NEVER HAVE KATE LEARN MORE ABOUT HER

like they made kate fall asleep like IMMEDIATELY after, so everything she could have learned about ani was said to her when she was passed out. and it made the scene where ani takes selfies with her kinda weird because there is not that much emotional impact

similarly her death was anticlimactic? i like when action movies have anticlimactic deaths but those deaths usually have some emotional impact and. this was so hollow besties

it just is such a shame because the cinematography was BRILLIANT and again there was. SO MUCH POTENTIAL for a movie to MEAN something

there were a couple of metal lines too, but those seemed hollow as well. “i’m dying. i have to finish... i have to finish something.” could have been SO GOOD. “my life was never mine. until now.” (this one may not be verbatim i cannot remember exactly) could have been SO GOOD. the basic premise was all there... she was regaining control of her life hours before her death, the poetry is all there, just BEGGING to mean something. but it doesn’t, in the end. it doesn’t mean much at all.

some action movies are good for nothing but blood and i can respect that. but when a story is TRYING to have a point but misses in delivering... that’s when i get upset. i love mindless shit but if you want me to care, fucking make me care, kings!!!!

that is all.

anyway. thoughts?

#kate 2021 #kate netflix #movie critiques #mary elizabeth winstead #netflix #might add more later #we will see #frog king rants #frog king reviews #decided i will tag every time i mention lexa in a post just to see how often lmao #i love lexa <3 #long post #my post

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dontwakeme-causeimdreaming · 5 years ago

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SPOILERS: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

So I know when Suzanne Collins announced she was releasing a prequel to the Hunger Games, there was a lot of backlash that the main character was President Snow. I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed TBOSAS and have a lot of thoughts about it. (Bear with me this will be really long)

1. My first thought: Tigris? Like ~the~ Tigris from Mockingjay? They seem so close what happened between them to make Tigris willing to betray her family to Squad 451... obviously she was fired as a stylist for being too altered, but is there more?

2. I find it interesting that some of the improvements to The Hunger Games were Snow’s idea, like the betting and the providing the tributes food to make a better show

3. It’s absolutely horrible to see that the tributes were treated so inhumanely (Kept in the Monkey House at the zoo, starved, and given a veterinarian rather than doctor) but it’s also haunting to see the desensitization that eventually came along when it became more like a sport than senseless revenge in the Capitol. At least the Capitol children saw the problem in the 10th Games compared to the 74th

4. Reaper apologizing for having to kill the other tributes (188) is such a stark contrast to how Cato and Clove relish in killing when Katniss is in the 74th Games, which shows how well President Snow (or perhaps Dr. Gaul) did his/her job in turning the districts’s enemy into the other districts before the Capitol

5. It’s also interesting how Snow’s tribute (FROM DISTRICT 12) won the games because Snow bent the rules and relied on cleverness much in the way Katniss (obviously also from District 12) won her games

6. I LOVE that Lucy Gray wrote the Hanging Tree it must’ve been so haunting for Snow to hear when the propo of Katniss singing aired

7. The similarities between Lucy Gray and Katniss!!!

-Both have a younger relative they take care of

-Only females victors from 12

-Won by using cunning intelligence (Lucy Gray with the poison, Katniss with the berries)

-Singing the Meadow Song and the Hanging Tree

-Swimming in the lake

-Both consider running off the escape from 12 and survive in the woods

8. Snow defies the capitol (handkerchief in the snake tank) just like Katniss (the nightlock berries) to help win the games

9. “Some people call them swamp potatoes, but I like katniss better. Has a nice ring to it” (436) oh Lucy Gray! I know Katniss is a plant but it’s so fun seeing the name casually mentioned in the prequel not as a heroine but just as an ordinary name. Little does Snow know, a girl named after that plant is going to be his downfall

10. “What if this was his life: rising whenever, catching his food for the day, and hanging out with Lucy Gray by the lake? Who needed wealth and success and power when they had love?” (438) contrasted with “He [Corionlanus] imagined a group of people in wild animal furs scraping out existence in a cave somewhere. He supposed such a thing could happen, but that life would be a big step down from even the districts. Barely human” (395)

-It’s no wonder Coriolanus wants to marry a woman he detests (516) if loving Lucy Gray made him consider living in conditions he called “barely human”

11. I love Snow’s disdain for the mockingjays obviously because Katniss becomes ~the Mockingjay~, but I also love how Snow hates them because they represent a failure to the capitol, an “unauthorized co-opting [of] Capitol technology” (439), showing that the Capitol is not as necessary as they would believe (which Katniss as the Mockingjay emphasizes in the future when she dismantled the Capitol)

-“Coriolanus felt sure he’d just spotted his first mockingjay, and he disliked the thing on sight” (352)

-“He [Coriolanus] didn’t mind the jabberjays so much — they seemed rather interesting from a military standpoint— but something about the mockingjays repelled him” (417)

12. Do you think Sejanus knew that Snow betrayed him when he mouths Coryo? (470) For his sake, I hope he didn’t so that he could die feeling as though he still had a best friend rather than add more sorrow to his death

13. “Was the goal of survival further survival and nothing more?” (495) —> “but at least he would ensure survival for survival’s sake” (516)

-This reminds me of Gale’s rants in the woods when he and Katniss are hunting, how they’re surviving but not living, and that it’s a cause for rebellion and uprising

-It’s interesting to see Snow’s mindset change, from when he considered survival as the only virtue in his life when he and Lucy Gray were about to run off compared to when he decides he is capable of becoming the president and ensuring survival

-When Snow decides to ensure survival, it seems more as though ensuring the survival of the oppression to maintain his power rather than save humanity, as he claims. He, too, had scorned the idea of surviving to survive earlier (495), so why should he want the people in the districts to survive just to survive? Certainly not for humanity

14. Even the person who created The Hunger Games — Dean Highbottom — thinks they’re awful (515)

15. “Snow had been the ruination of them both” (516)

-Even though Snow doesn’t know what happened to Lucy Gray that day in the woods, I would assume she died because in the Hunger Games novel, “Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, we have had only two. Only one is still alive” (THG, 19). Obviously the victor still alive is Haymitch.

-Although, perhaps she starved because music became outlawed with the arrival of the new mayor.

-I find it interesting that District 12 even knew there was more than one victor seeing as Dr. Gaul destroyed all evidence of the 10th Games.

16. Snow hates the idea of women selling their bodies in exchange for things they need to survive, as he sees it as losing all dignity, (like when he feels disgust at the line in Lucy Gray’s song from her interview on page 175), but then he makes the victors sell themselves once he’s president

17. It’s interesting to see the effect that Dr. Gaul has on Snow, because obviously her teaching is what made Coriolanus’s mindset change

-He calls her a lunatic (114) and agrees with Tigris when she calls Dr. Gaul sadistic (125) and felt horrified at the way Marcus’s body was displayed once caught (206), but he still says that he’ll continue the Hunger Games when he’s the president (516)

-He felt guilty murdering Bobbin (248), but in his reign as the president he was responsible for hundreds of deaths (which he never denied but did not seem to feel guilty for either in Mockingjay)

18. President Snow is known to poison his enemies to maintain his control, so I liked seeing him poison his first victim — Dean Highbottom — with rat poison (517).

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas spoilers #tbosas #coriolanus snow #thg #The Hunger Games #suzanne collins #tigris #sejanus plinth #dr. gaul #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #district 12 #katniss everdeen #gale hawthorne #haymitch abernathy #mockingjay

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Hunger Games Victors, Ranked by Winning Method

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The Hunger Games is the first book in a trilogy of dystopian YA novels by Suzanne Collins, that were adapted into a four-film series, with the third book being split into two films. The story follows Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence), who volunteers for the annual battle royale, the Hunger Games, after her sister Prim’s name is drawn. Like the gladiators of old, Hunger Games tributes are compulsorily drafted to fight to the death in dangerous arenas, for the amusement and appeasement of the masses. The games are both a reminder and a warning to the people of Panem to stay in line and what happens when you don’t.

With the Hunger Games series, Collins was looking to explore some themes of revolution, depicting the games as a political arena as much as a literal one. We see this depiction of the Hunger Games as a tool of political control ramp up in the second book/film in the franchise. In Catching Fire, President Snow wants to reassert control over the games, and make a statement to the people of Panem, so the 75th Hunger Games—the third Quarter Quell—only pulls tributes from the existing pool of winners. Everyone who participates has already survived—and killed—before. In Catching Fire Katniss and Peeta train and form alliances with other victors as they formulate a plan to survive (or not) in the arena.

As the book progresses, it becomes more and more apparent to both Katniss and the reader that many of the veteran victors heading into the games are not necessarily there to score a victory of survival but rather a political win that could further the growing, Panem-wide revolution against Snow and his cronies. With that in mind, we’re taking the time to rank the Hunger Games victors’ winning methods, from most to least provocative. Who wins the Hunger Games when the goal is not solely survival, but also making a political point?

6. Mags Flanagan

District: 4 Hunger Games Won: 11th Method: Playing an Angle

Mags (Lynn Cohen) was the first winner from District 4. She participated in the 11th Hunger Games, the first year they instituted the Victor’s Village. Her exact method for winning is unknown, but she was adept at with a fishhook, and weaving baskets, and likely used both (fishing) skills to secure her victory. She was a mentor to District 4 tributes and was close to Finnick. She volunteered for the third Quarter Quell in place of Annie Cresta, who is Finnick’s true love. Finnick wept when she died by going into the fog so that Finnick could save Peeta. Recognize a real g when you see one.

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Like many of the tributes of the 75th Hunger Games, Mags was drawn into a political fight she didn’t sign up for. Once Snow broke the rules by reaping victors, he invited the very defiance he hoped to suppress.

5. Johanna Mason

District: 7 Hunger Games Won: 71st Method: Delicate Deception

Johanna (Jena Malone) wins the 71st Hunger Games by pretending to be weak, so that other tributes ignore her while they take one another out. She viciously kills the remaining tributes, once the field is narrowed down. Her win was sound, and probably due to her popularity after the games, Snow wanted to prostitute Johana. When she refused, her family was killed as punishment. By the time of the third Quarter Quell, she is openly defiant of Snow and the games. She is angry, and she is vicious, and all the other tributes know to watch out for her.

4. Wiress & Beetee

District: 3 Hunger Games Won: Unknown Method: Shocking Subterfuge

Wiress (Amanda Plummer) and Beetee (Jeffrey Wright) are career tributes from District 3, the district responsible for Panem’s technological achievements. They formed an alliance with Katniss in the third Quarter Quell. Betee won his original game by setting electrical traps around the arena for his opponents. It’s never stated how Wiress wins her game, but it wouldn’t be a leap to guess that she outwitted the other tributes. She is the one who realizes the arena is a giant clock, which is pivotal to the allies survival.

Snow doesn’t appear to have a specific gripe against Wiress and Beetee, they are just casualties in his vendetta against Katniss. That said, choosing to reap previous victors and not fully recognizing their capabilities is a choice that comes back to bite when they break out of the arena.

3. Finnick Odair

District: 4 Hunger Games Won: 65th Method: Retiarri Realness

Finnick Odair (Sam Claflin) is a career tribute from District 4, the wealthy district on the water known for fishing. He won the 65th Hunger Games at the tender age of 14, making him the youngest victor in history. Finnick is described by Katniss as being very handsome, and that coupled with his flirtatious personality caught the eye of wealthy sponsors who sent him gifts throughout the games. One such gift was his signature trident, which is fitting. Finnick appears to be modeled on the Retiarii, who were scantily clad Roman gladiators, who fought using fisherman’s tools—weighted nets, daggers, and tridents. Finnick, like the Retiarii, won his game by using nets to ensnare other tributes, and finishing them off with the trident. After his win, he was prostituted by President Snow, before being reaped into the 75th Hunger Games, alongside Mags, who volunteered in place of his true love, Annie Cresta.

Finnick won his game fair and square, but he was aided by donors who made the arena less treacherous and thus easier for him to survive. This doesn’t break any rules but it does limit some of the control the gamemasters have. Being well-liked has its advantages in the game, and being a popular victor means having a platform. This would threaten President Snow, as a popular victor who spoke ill of the games could change the sentiment of the games.

2. Haymitch

District: 12 Hunger Games Won: 50th Method: Arena Assault

Haymitch Abernathy (played by Woody Harrelson in the 4-film adaptation) was the second victor from District 12. He participated in the 50th Hunger games, the second Quarter Quell. He had an early advantage in the games by surviving the cornucopia bloodbath and coming away with a knife and backpack of supplies. He took down a few career tributes and was almost killed, but was saved by fellow District 12 tribute Maysilee Donner. They formed an alliance until they separated—not wanting to kill one another. Maysilee was attacked by vicious bird muttations, and Haymitch held her hand as she was dying, the same way Katniss did with Rue. Haymitch discovers the force field surrounding the edge of the arena, when he kicks a pebble at the cliff, and it bounces back. In his final knock out drag out with the District 1 tribute, he leads her to the arena’s edge. She throws her axe at him, he dodges, and the axe rebounds off the force field and hits her in the head instead. She dies, leaving Haymitch the victor.

While not an obvious or even deliberate act of defiance, using the arena’s force field this way goes against the intention of the gamemasters, who provide all of the tools inside the arena for tributes to use. Plants, bodies of water, and everything inside the arena is deliberately placed. The force field is a barrier, it isn’t meant to be acknowledged, and certainly isn’t meant to be interacted with. It shows that the gamemasters aren’t in control of everything, which shows weakness.

Like with Katniss and Peeta, President Snow doesn’t take kindly to Haymitch’s stunt, and has his entire family murdered as punishment. It’s hard to pinpoint what President Snow hates more, victors that come from poor districts or victors who win by outsmarting the gamemasters. What does seem clear is that Snow despises anyone or anything he can’t control. And winners who subvert the game in any way are punished in ways both obvious, and insidious.

1. Katniss & Peeta

District: 12 Hunger Games Won: 74th Method: Ride or Die

Katniss and Peeta won the 74th Hunger Games, becoming the first duo victors, and only the third winners from District 12. Katniss survived the arena through her finely honed archery skills and her alliance with Rue, before she was killed. Peeta allied with Careers—tributes who train for the games—then turned on them. He also used camouflage skills, which gave us this gem.

After making it to the final two, and beating out District 2 career tribute Cato, the two refused to kill one another when the rules allowing for two victors was revoked. They each took a handful of deadly nightlock berries—which killed District 5 tribute Foxface—and threatened to swallow them, which would leave the game with no victors. They were both allowed to win.

Their win broke the established rules at the time, never mind that the rules had already been changed. Katniss and Peeta refusing to kill the other openly defied the gamemasters and President Snow, and they would pay the price for it. Snow strongly suggested they play up their romance during the victory tour, so the audience would see their defiance as an act of love for one another, not rebellion against the Capitol. He also decided the next Hunger Games, the third Quarter Quell, would only reap—involuntarily conscript— past tributes. This guaranteed Katniss would enter the games again.

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 5 years ago

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Peaches and a tyrannical sea

(I decided to play around with this prompt, trying to make the story not overly contrived. I’m not sure I succeeded at that 😂, but it was SO fun to write what I imagine of young Hayffie 💕. I became a bit addicted to this fic, and I didn’t know when, where, or how to stop. Plus, I discovered a path to joy through writing dialogue for Caesar Flickerman, and who can resist a path to joy? So this story got long, probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, and if you read all the way through to the end, then I’m in awe of your stamina and devotion to THG/Hayffie crack.)

Category 5 “Hurricane Cronus” hit the coast of District 11 less than a month after the 60th Hunger Games, right in the middle of the summer harvest.

Being inland, the Victors’ Village was barely touched, but Chaff’s hometown was destroyed. Every shack collapsed, and every citizen who couldn’t get to higher ground perished.

The Capitol projected the fallen into the night sky with lights and music. 24 decimated crops: apples, beans, blueberries, cabbage, cantaloupes, eggplant, figs, gooseberries, grapes, herbs, kale, muscadines, nectarines, okra, peaches, pears, peppers, potatoes, raspberries, summer squash, corn, tomatoes, and watermelon.

Montages on screens throughout Panem showed flooded fields, flattened plants, and broken orchards. The images were accompanied by the voice of Caesar Flickerman, thick with serious tones. “Cronus, Titan of the Harvest, has unleashed His wrath upon Panem. But through the strength of the Capitol, we will replant. We will rebuild.”

Haymitch hurled a half-empty liquor bottle at the screen in the Hob, nicking the corner and leaving a crack. If he’d been more sober, he would’ve nailed Caesar in the face.

“You’d better be careful, honey,” Greasy Sae warned him. “They can still find ways to hurt you.”

“I doubt that.”

The older woman knew Haymitch well enough to not touch him when he was angry, but she soothed with her voice.

“Is that friend of yours okay? ...The one in 11.”

Over the past decade, Chaff had become a lifeline for Haymitch. His companionship through each Games was effectively an antidote to alcohol poisoning. If Chaff didn’t drink more than his share, then Haymitch probably would have had cirrhosis of the liver before age 26. His buddy always managed to bring some laughter into the atrocities of mentorship.

Sae was right. Haymitch still had people to lose. The Capitol could still hurt him. They would keep on hurting him if he didn’t feign indifference. And throwing a bottle at the screen showed the opposite of indifference.

“He’s okay.”

Sae offered a smile. “Good. That’s good, boy. From the way the Peacekepers are talking, it sounds like there’s been a lot of death. At least a thousand with the count rising. Some people got no fresh water to drink.”

“And the Capitol eulogizes crops.”

“It ain’t right. That’s for sure.”

Haymitch wasn’t drunk enough to face this conversation. And he was pissed about having thrown away the rest of his liquor.

“Can I offer you a bowl of beef stew? ...It’s on the house,” Sae added.

Normally Haymitch wouldn’t turn down a free supper, but the mystery meats that Greasy Sae served up under the name of “beef” sometimes turned his stomach.

“Not hungry,” he lied, “But thanks for the offer.”

“You take care, honey.” Her face fell as she watched Haymitch walk away to buy more booze.

***

The Capitol was abuzz with excitement about the fundraising event planned for hurricane relief. Replanting and rebuilding would come at a cost, and an auction was an opportunity for the wealthy to show off the depths of their family pockets.

“‘Picnic with a Victor’ is the promotional title,” Claudius Templesmith announced on screens throughout Panem.

“Sunshine... a day in Capitol Park... by the water...” Caesar responded with a neon white smile and a slap to his knee. “I LOVE it!”

Seated side-by-side in red velvet chairs, the two bantered back and forth about event details.

“The baskets will be stocked with delicacies prepared by the Capitol’s finest chefs, and made from crops harvested before Cronus hit our very own District 11.”

“Claudius, I’ve heard whispers that the picnics will include artesian wines made, not from grapes, but from muscadines.”

“Ah, muscadines! Amazing and desired for their incredible super-fruit properties.”

“Sweet, aromatic, and native to District 11. A truly unique Panem experience and proudly exported across the globe.”

“Caesar, do we know yet which victors have volunteered to picnic with the highest bidders?”

“Well, we’ve been trying to keep that, shall we say, under wraps, but if you twist my arm, I might be able to let out some hints.”

“Well then consider yourself twisted!”

“Ha HA, you know me so well!! And ouch, not so hard!” The two of them filled the airwaves with hysterial laughter.

“Seriously now. Let’s tell them.”

A drumroll began off camera as Caesar and Claudius took turns dramatically listing off numbers of the Games of the participating victors.

Effie was listening with mild disinterest until Caesar said “50.” When he said “50,” she knew her life was about to change. She was bound and determined to MAKE it change.

***

“Mother, Daddy, this is an excellent opportunity to be noticed, not just by society but by the professors who will be influencing my education and future career opportunities,” Effie lobbied hard to bid in the auction. At 18 years old, her parents’ permission was not as deep of a concern for her as their financial backing.

An afternoon with Haymitch Abernathy would draw a price. He was reclusive and young, but not young enough to deter the interests of wealthy older women, and men for that matter.

Effie would have competition in the bidding. She was certain about that in the same way that she knew wigs would be all the rage in a few years. Some things an observant and savvy woman simply KNOWS, and Effie considered herself to be both observant and savvy.

She’d inherited money from her great-grandmother, but she could keep that in savings accruing interest if her parents would back her now.

“Which victor will you bid to picnic with?” her mother asked.

“I’ll decide based on the way they present themselves on stage,” Effie answered evasively. “I want an investment which reflects positively on our family.”

“You need to be careful,” her father insisted, “Alto made such a showing in the Games last year that he’ll surely draw a high price, probably more than we can afford. Whoever you bid on, you need to win.”

“I’ll judge by applause and whispers in the crowd. I’ll be discerning; I won’t bid if I can’t win. ...Daddy, do I EVER lose?” Effie glanced between her parents without a single blink of her false purple eyelashes.

When her father blinked, she knew she had their support. “Your budget is $5000. Invest wisely.”

Effie would not be deterred by the limits of her parents’ generosity. Haymitch would be hers for the afternoon, no matter the cost. She’d imagined a connection with him for too long to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. Her classmate, Fulvia Cardew, would help. She was sympathetic to Effie’s interests, and with extended family in banking, Fluvia had deeper pockets than the president.

***

Haymitch would’ve almost preferred death over participation in the *dog and pony show* that this fundraiser was sure to be. Except Chaff had confided in him details of how badly the coast of District 11 had been wiped out. Since the Capitol depended on 11 to literally feed the lavish lifestyle of its citizens, then money raised would be of some help to the people of district. The Capitol needed workers alive, and for people to be stay alive to work they required basic shelter, drinkable water, and rations of food. Since Cronus, many towns in 11 lacked most essential survival needs.

Haymitch took pleasure in imagining Snow in fear about where his next meal would be coming from. Though he knew the tyrant would be the LAST person in Panem to go hungry. It would never come to that. Surely a traitor in his inner circle would slaughter that pig and eat him before either of them starved. The traitor would probably die afterward from the poison in Snow’s veins. Haymitch would have taken pleasure in all of that imagery too if it didn’t make him want to vomit.

August was warm in the Capitol. Late afternoon temperatures usually reached high into the 80s. So the auction was set for morning with the victory picnics beneath shade trees by the lake. An elaborate system of misters had been rigged up throughout the covered amphitheater and the Capitol Park.

Oh, the *horror* if one of these hoity-toity Capitol people should melt in the sunshine before the bidding even started. Haymitch had the thought, but the misters actually felt great by mid-morning when the participating victors were called on stage one-by-one for their interviews with Caesar, who was functioning as Master of Ceremonies.

Caesar introduced each of them to the audience by name, number of their district, and number of their Games. Each victor had been directed the night before to memorize a brief script about what moved them to volunteer for the fundraiser. The script Haymitch had been given included a ridiculous ode to peach trees.

He had let himself be dressed up for the event. He’d even let them trim his hair and shave his face. He’d get up on that stage mostly sober. He would smile and let himself be auctioned off to the highest bidder. But there was no way in hell he was going to eulogize peaches when nearly every person in his best friend’s hometown was a corpse.

He had a flash of the Seam and the dead bodies of his loved ones, poisoned. That was 10 years ago, and the flashbacks still came to haunt him with pale faces. In earlier more innocent times, he and his brother had found a peach tree while exploring north in the district. That was in the days of fewer Peacekepers and fewer questions about destinations. His brother picked two peaches, one for each of them. The flavor, texture, and color were unlike anything Haymitch had experienced before. That peach was full of dualities: sweet and tart, uncomfortable skin yet soothing flesh, solid and juicy. Yellow and red swirled on his tongue.

He thought of that peach years later when he had sex with his girlfriend the night before the Reaping. HIS Reaping. She felt like that peach when he came inside her. So tender. It was his first time. A few weeks later she was a ghost.

Haymitch shivered under the misters, waiting like livestock in line for slaughter. He needed a drink, badly, but if not for sobriety, then in lieu of delivering an ode to the fruit, he might inadvertently describe making love with the girlfriend murdered by Snow.

That conversation would not only get him killed, but would get him the wrong type of bidders. He was a volunteer today, not a prostitute. This commitment did not carry over from afternoon into evening. He would not be fucking the fool willing to pay hundreds of dollars for his company, some food, and a hill-billy-red-neck bottle of wine.

...Except for maybe HER, he thought as he scanned the paddle holders in the crowd. That girl with blonde hair. He’d fuck somebody like her, all soft and shit, dressed up in clothes and makeup that made her look older than she probably was.

***

“He’s looking at you,” Fulvia whispered to Effie, “He’s been staring at you for at least a minute.”

Of course he’s looking at me. Have you seen me today? Effie thought. Manners prevented her from praising herself out loud.

She met Haymitch’s gaze and offered him a controlled smile, warm but not flashy. I see you, was what she wanted to communicate for now. The rest could wait until after she won the bid.

Their eye contact broke when someone poked Haymitch in the back. Caesar had called him onstage, “Winner of the 50th Hunger Games, from District 12, Haymitch Abernathy!” While eye-fucking with her, he’d missed his cue.

Effie watched him saunter over to Caesar, as if things like cues and pace were irrelevant. He relaxed into the chair with his knees slightly splayed, like he and Caesar were old friends meeting at a bar. Effie half-expected Haymitch to call out for a server to bring them drinks. Maybe he and Caesar actually WERE friends. She knew nearly nothing of the life of a victor.

“Haymitch...” Caesar began, “It’s a rare treat to have you here, the victor of a Quarter Quell.” Then to the audience he added, “Isn’t this exciting!!”

The audience cheered wildly. They’d been served pink champagne all morning in an effort to up the bidding. A few people were already raising their paddles. Effie held hers firmly by her side. Patience. Control, she told herself. She would not appear too eager. With this event televised throughout Panem, her every move was a reflection on herself and her family.

“Now, hold on, ladies and gentlemen,” Caesar continued, “Let’s allow this young man to introduce himself.”

Effie liked the way Caesar called him young. Over the past several years, Haymitch’s shoulders had broadened and his body had filled into its frame. His eyes sunk deeper with each Games, but his face was still boyish. She still saw in him the kid who held Maysilee’s hand as she died.

“What inspired you to volunteer to be here today?” Caesar asked gravely.

Haymitch pushed his hair back from his eyes, and spoke not to Caesar, but to the cameras, to all of Panem.

“I have friends in 11.” He thought of Chaff and Seeder. “They grew up there climbing trees in the orchards. Kids are light enough to reach the fruit at the top, so they climb a lot and grow strong — but not as strong as a tyrannical sea...

“...I ate a peach once. The kid who picked it is gone now. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save those kids in 11 either who were flattened under the walls of their own houses. When you’re a scared kid, you run home.” He looked straight at Effie, and in that moment she felt the weight of so much she didn’t understand.

“...But sometimes home is the least safe place to be. I’m here today to help raise money so the families that survived Cronus can have shelter, fresh water, and food again.”

Caesar was as stunned into silence as the crowd.

Haymitch quickly added from the script that he’d ripped up the night before, “...So they can replant and rebuild through the generosity of the Capitol.” He skipped the ‘Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever’ victory tour-style bullshit.

“And replant and rebuild they shall.” Caesar’s gloom rapidly up-shifted to elation. “...Am I right, folks?!”

The crowd broke into thunderous applause, and the bidding for a picnic with Haymitch began.

“Shit...” Fulvia muttered, “After that speech, he’s going to cost a fortune.”

“Language!” Effie chastised her lightly, “We’re all on the monitors.”

“Well, he will. How much do you have?”

“$5000 plus the money my Nana left me, but I’m hoping to save as much as I can of that for after University.”

“Let’s see if that’s enough.”

Effie pressed her paddle to the side of her skirt. Her hands were shaking. She watched the bidding go back and forth between several individuals, with Caesar raising the amount in $100 increments, as he had with the other victors.

Most of the bidders eventually fell away, and a battle commenced between two women Effie didn’t recognize. Fluvia knew them through her family’s social circle.

“The short one’s divorced. The other is widowed. Her husband died last year of a heart attack while screwing his secretary. Both of their investments are shit right now.”

“Once again, language! ...And thank you for the information.”

“Let them tire each other out, and then jump in.”

When Caesar said, “$4500. Do I hear $4600? No? $4500 going once...” Effie raised her paddle as high as she could reach. Since she was wearing 5 inch heels, her bid couldn’t be missed.

“$4600 it is! Do I hear $4700?...”

The bidding continued between Effie and the widow. Effie selfishly hoped the dead deadbeat husband hadn’t left her with millions in insurance money that Fluvia knew nothing about.

$4800... $4900... $5000... “I am absolutely thrilled! Are you thrilled!?” Caeser chimed in, and the audience cheered again.

Effie refused to be distracted. She didn’t look at the audience or the widow or Fluvia or even Caesar. Just Haymitch. Just those sunken eyes that had seen things she wanted to understand. She didn’t dare glance at his mouth. Patience. Control. She needed to stay on task.

She kept her paddle up now, trying to intimidate the widow, wanting her to think that Effie was bidding with all the money in the world, rather than an allowance from her parents and her personal savings.

The widow took the bid to $5100, but Effie refused to let go. She kept her paddle up, dipping now into the money from her great-grandmother. Nana would approve of this investment, Effie justified. Because this is an investment in ME.

Effie kept her paddle raised as the widow volleyed with her until Effie had the bid at $7000. The widow glared at Effie whose eyes stayed fixed on Haymitch. Fluvia, however, flashed the widow a wry smile and waggled her fingers in a clear message... This girl is with me, Fluvia Cardew, of the multi-millionaire Cardews. We own the banks, honey, and we’re not backing down. You’re wasting your time.

“Do I hear $7100? No? $7000 going once... going twice... and the picnic is sold! Congratulations to the winner! Ms...” Caesar glanced at the monitor which matched her paddle number to her name, “...Effie Trinket!”

Everyone cheered except for the widow, the divorcee, and a handful of earlier competitors. Fluvia embraced Effie, pressing a plump silver-flower-tattooed cheek to Effie’s flushed one. “Holy shit! You did it.”

Effie didn’t bother to chastise this time about language. Her hands were steady now, but the rest of her body was shaking.

***

Haymitch knew he wouldn’t forget the intensity in those blue eyes for as long as he lived. A tyrannical sea was nothing compared to this girl. He shook Caesar’s extended hand and then left the stage to gather with the other chosen victors as the bidding continued for the rest.

“$7000 for lunch with me?” He uttered with incredulity. “Capitol people! That girl isn’t a fool though. She was stoic as fuck. What’s her motivation?”

“She wants more than lunch.” Chaff clapped him on the shoulder and left the pressure of his hand there to emphasize a point. “I saw you two eying each other before you even went on stage. I know she’s hot, man, but she’s jailbait. Maybe she’s technically legal, since she was bidding and all. But if you touch that girl, I guarantee her father will hunt you down for his own picnic, and he’ll hand you your ass on a platter.”

“I wasn’t thinking about touching her. I was thinking about 11 and the goddamn script and peaches...”

Chaff lifted his eyebrows, and Haymitch lowered his voice to confess.

“...And now I’m thinking about eating peaches off her body. Jesus Christ. Did you see her out there?! Who is Effie Trinket?”

“I don’t know, but you’ll find out soon.”

***

Effie had spent her entire life rehearsing the practice of patience and control. She wore those manners as masks while the auction continued and the sun climbed the sky. She didn’t let her guard down, even as the cameras moved on to other bidders and winners. She could credit the heat with flushing her cheeks. No one would notice her shaking, except maybe Fluvia, but her friend wouldn’t make a big deal of it. Effie applauded when the audience applauded. She declared, “Wonderful!” with each sum of money raised.

Inside herself she was a cyclone of insanity with a pounding heart, feeling everything but patience and control.

When the auction was finished, she made her donation through a system of direct withdrawal from her bank account. Sometime between her winning the bid and making payment, her parents had transferred an additional $2000; therefore, she wouldn’t need to dip into her savings today. OF COURSE they did. There would have been nothing more embarrassing for the Trinkets than their daughter coming up short financially in such a public way. Then again, her inheritance from Nana wasn’t a secret, so maybe they simply saw wisdom in Effie’s investment.

When the donation was complete, an official escorted her across the Capitol Park lawn to her picnic. Haymitch was sitting on a shaded blanket with his back against a tree and his legs out straight, crossed at the knees. His pants were rolled half-way up his shins, and his shirt sleeves to his elbows. His tie draped over the back of his neck, the buttons of his vest were unhooked, and his shoes and socks were off.

He watched her approach and didn’t stand up to greet her. This would have miffed Effie if he didn’t look so good sitting there, casual, like with Caesar on stage, as if she was a friend he was waiting for before ordering drinks rather than a stranger who just paid thousands of dollars to have lunch with him.

“You’ve come undone,” she said, as she kneeled across from him on the blanket, just close enough to reach out and touch.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Me undone is not such a pretty sight.”

She mulled over his words, and chose hers carefully, “We’ll see about that.”

She held out her hand, covered from wrist to knuckles in lace gloves woven with golden thread. “I’m Effie.”

Haymitch consided his options. He could shake her hand. He could hold her fingers and kiss her knuckles. Or maybe...

He leaned forward and slipped his fingertips beneath the lace at her wrist and peeled off her glove slowly enough for her to object, but she didn’t.

She liked the way he did it, gently and without asking. His hands were uncaloused. The touch was soft along her skin.

He laid her glove on the blanket between them and captured her hand between both of his. “Haymitch,” he said.

“I...” She could feel her cheeks blazing and made a mental note to wear more layers of makeup in the future to prevent her feelings from being so readily exposed. “...I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “These picnics are being televised. Is your father watching?”

“Possibly. ...Act chivalrous.” She presented her other hand, which he divested of its glove in the same manner as the first.

“I don’t ACT, sweetheart.” He whispered, “Chivalry isn’t what I have in mind when I take off a woman’s clothes.” Shit. He was flirting with this girl, and he MEANT it. She was lighting him up like crazy.

Effie thrilled at the thought of him regarding her as a woman. She had wondered if her youth might prevent him from perceiving her as she was.

“And chivalry isn’t what I’m thinking about when a man takes off my clothes,” she whispered back.

He recognized that despite the differences in their ages, she possibly had more experience with nakedness than he did. He found himself picturing her that way. wondering what shape her breasts would take when not fashioned by the stays of a corset. Would they be soft, like her hands?

“My eyes are up here, Haymitch.”

This girl was bossy beyond her years. Either she was precocious or a bitch or both. He didn’t know yet. Whatever it was, he was amused and turned on, especially after imagining her breasts in his hands. How did this turn personal so quickly? This Effie was a Siren. He would need to be cautious.

“I was just wondering where’s your school uniform?” He teased her, subtly inquiring about her age.

“Burned! I’m attending University.” She was vague about her age with intention.

Too bad, Haymitch thought. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in one of those pleated Academy skirts.

“Thirsty?” The wine was uncorked and chilling in a bucket of melting ice.

Effie nodded, eager to be just a bit drunk with him. Not too much, but enough to let go of a modicum of tight control.

Haymitch had been sober all morning. This girl had been a welcome distraction from craving, but he was salivating now in anticipation of a drink, even if it was just muscadine wine. Stemmed glassware for a picnic was Capitol nonsense. He was tempted to drink straight from the bottle and pass it to her to do the same, but he resisted. He set the goblets on the breadboard and filled them. The wine was the color of crushed plums.

Effie curled her legs to the side and relaxed onto the blanket. She unzipped her boots and slipped them off along with knee-high stockings. “When in Rome...“ she said as Haymitch stared at her bare calves and feet.

“Let’s drink to that.”

She swirled the wine in her glass before clinking his. “And what else did the Romans do — besides picnic in bare feet?” she asked after a sip.

He drank the contents of the goblet in one swallow. He wouldn’t hide who he was, not from this girl or anyone else. “The Romans were into self-indulgence.”

She followed his lead and swallowed half the wine in her glass. “Satisfying one’s desires, pleasures, lusts, and whims without restraint?”

Capitol parties, he thought, wondering if she was old enough yet to take part in that life.

“A lot of that happens here...”

He admired her for being aware of at least that much.

She lowered her voice. “Except in the House of Trinket, where the only *indulgence* encouraged is in perfecting oneself.”

He took another look at her in light of that personal information. Her long blonde hair swooped over her forehead and trailed down her back in immaculate soft curls. Not one hair was out of place, even with misters and fans blowing at a summer picnic.

“Is there much self-indulgence in District 12?” she asked.

Clearly an Academy education didn’t teach much about the real world. “Only in the *House of Abernathy.*” He refilled their goblets and drank more slowly this time.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked straight-up.

His tone had indeed been mocking, and he hadn’t really meant for it to be. He liked this girl, and he wouldn’t judge her for things she’d never seen or heard before.

“I’m mocking my own reality, sweetheart. ...You know how many victors live in 12.”

“Only you...” She didn’t know what that meant for him other than the words sounded lonely. Victors were celebrities here in the Capitol. Maybe it wasn’t like that in the districts. Maybe... “Are you alone?” she asked, “In the *House of Abernathy*...”

What to say to her? She surely didn’t pay all that money to spend an afternoon listening to his sad stories. Though something about her made him want to speak openly in the way he told the cameras about 11. Something about her made him want her to know the truths of the world, while her mind was still supple like her skin.

“I’m not alone today, not here,” was his answer. Evasive, yet true.

She watched his mouth say the words. His lips were lightly stained by the wine. Effie had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in her life. “Haymitch...” She touched him instead, caressing tanned skin and fine hair just beneath the rolled up hem of his pant leg.

She felt so good; he closed his eyes for a moment. Then they shot open. Chaff was right. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would be his downfall. “Effie... the cameras...”

It was the first time she heard him say her name. She smiled and reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Are you hungry?”

That question was safer to answer, but barely. “What’s in the basket?”

Effie took out one item at a time: Steak sandwiches with melted cheese on dark crescent-shaped rolls dotted with seeds, the signature bread from district 11... A warm succotash of corn, shelled green beans, diced potatoes and summer squash, tomatoes, multi-colored sweet peppers and okra... And for dessert an apple pie, plus sliced peaches in a jar full of honey. The latter inspired Haymitch to revisit his daydream from earlier. The honey only added to the fantasy.

This one basket contained more food than an entire family from District 11 or 12 would eat in a week or more. Should he mention that in response to her earlier question about self-indulgence? Maybe later. For now he’d rather be with her in the fantasy.

“A $7000 picnic. Is it what you were hoping for?”

“Let’s taste everything and find out.”

As they ate and drank, their questions for one another grew more intimate.

“I always watch for you among the victors at these events, but I’ve never seen you do this kind of thing before.”

“You watch for me?” He grinned. “HOW LONG have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to know you’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“I don’t do these kinds of things because I don’t like feeling like livestock... or a hooker.”

Effie gasped. “Haymitch, I wouldn’t! I’ve thought about you a long time. This isn’t a passing fancy. My interest is too marked to pretend I’m not pursuing you. But I’d never expect you to...” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “I didn’t invest that money so you would... fuck me.”

...I want more than that, she didn’t say.

...I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if these cameras and people would disappear, he didn’t say, but he’d decided it this morning the first moment he saw her.

He grazed her pinky with his, liking the idea of her *pursuing* him, whether or not her efforts were misguided. “HOW LONG?” he pressed,

“This feels like confession.”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t a priest. I just want to know you.”

Effie released a long sigh of feelings she’d been holding in forever. “10 years.”

“Shit. Since the Games?! You were just a kid.” You’re still just a kid. ...Only she wasn’t.

“I sat for an hour every day for years as my mother wove pink ribbons into my hair. In the stillness I thought a lot about the boy who separated from his friend in the Games so they wouldn’t have to kill each other — the boy who held her hand so she wouldn’t have to die alone. I watched you grow up in my mind more than anyplace else.”

Her honesty deserved his in response. “That boy is gone. It’s just me now... a man who drinks in order to try to sleep through nightmares — a man who goes to bed alone so I don’t accidentally slit anybody’s throat. ...It may not be what you paid all that money to get to know about me, but it’s the truth.”

Effie was stunned into silence and sympathy. She felt pity for him now, and she didn’t want to. There were some realities she wasn’t quite ready to face. His description wasn’t what she imagined the life of a victor should be.

She wore masks well, but he could see the change in her expression, and he didn’t like it. Pity, especially from a Capitol girl, was the last thing he wanted. But better that than her wasting her life dreaming about somebody who isn’t even real.

“Why DID you come here today? Beyond what you told Caesar.”

“One of those friends I mentioned in 11 — well, the hurricane flattened his hometown. Hundreds of people died, and the survivors have nothing, honey.”

“HUNDREDS of people died?”

“Over a thousand.”

“Why did the news show only crops?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I don’t expect they’re gonna teach you that at University.”

More sympathy crept over Effie. She was overwhelmed and started shivering like during the bidding.

Haymitch wasn’t sure what to offer her. She was so close to still being a kid herself. But with the face and body and guts of a goddess.

“Do you want to get out from under these misters and walk down to the water? We could pack the food away and eat more later. If we just have this one day...” He didn’t finish the thought. This day was hers. He’d let her fill it in anyway she wanted.

“We’ll have more than this one day. Every fiber in my being tells me we will.”

There was no point in arguing with so much gumption. He stood up and held out his hand. She grasped it, and he pulled her up. They walked barefoot through the grass, then ran across the beach to the water’s edge where the damp sand cooled the soles of their feet.

The lake lapped at Effie’s toes and she scribbled in the sand with one. How many times in adolescence had she come to this spot and written “Effie Abernathy” over and over again, dotting each “i” with a heart? Had she been a fool?

“There’s a lake near 12. It’s a secret spot. My brother and I used to sneak there as kids and swim naked so we wouldn’t have to hike back home in wet clothes.”

Now she was picturing Haymitch naked. And wanting him naked, regardless of his drinking and nightmares and sleeping with knives — and regardless of what she said she didn’t expect from him. She’d been with boys, plenty of boys, but he was a man, and she was so curious about the way he would fill her.

Effie cleared her throat of unspoken longing and pedaled backward in the conversation. “You have a brother...”

“I had a brother then. ...He died a couple of weeks after the Quarter Quell.”

She brushed her fingers against his, wishing she could offer more, but the cameras were on them. “I’m sorry,” she said in reference to everything.

“It was a long time ago.”

“You must miss him.”

Haymitch nodded. “He’s more free dead than alive. It’s a small comfort.”

Effie wanted to understand. She just didn’t.

“My great-grandmother died too shortly after your Games...”

District 12 is in your future, dear, Nana had said. And that boy is an important part of it. Effie dwelled a moment in silent memory before confessing more.

“...She told me you’d be in my future.”

Haymitch had no faith in fortune telling wishes and dreams. He usually flipped people off who tried to tell him how the future would be. The shit he’d been through was unfathomable. How could anyone predict anything but more horror.

“That said, Nana was a bit eccentric in the end.” Effie smiled wistfully.

“You still miss her...”

“Every day. Unconditional love is a rare gift.”

“Do you think her *prediction* was just eccentricity?”

“It was a long time ago, but I remember how certain she was.”

“How can anyone be certain about anything in this world?”

Effie considered his question. “Did you know I would win the bid today?”

Haymitch thought of that drawn out moment with her eyes on him and her paddle in the air. “Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw it in your eyes... Determination, and this... wild control.”

“Maybe that’s how my Nana knew.”

“She saw our future in your eyes?”

He said ‘our future’ like it was almost fated. Maybe it was a slip, but Effie wouldn’t ignore it.

“I didn’t ask her. And then it was too late to ask her.”

She gazed down at the sand, and the tips of her long purple eyelashes touched her cheeks. They were the same color as her skirt which loosely hugged her curves then flared at mid-thigh. The hem brushed her knees as she moved. She reminded him of the violets that bloom in 12 after the snow melts. Birdfoot Violets his mother used to call them. He smiled at the name, watching Effie’s toes curl in the sand.

When she looked up at him, her eyes reflected the water, the sky, and intensities of her own. Haymitch had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in his life.

“Later, when these cameras are gone, do you want to go somewhere together?” she asked.

“Cameras are never gone. They’re always watching, even when you least expect them to be. He recalled Greasy Sae’s warning, “You’d better be careful. They can still find ways to hurt you.”

He’d been so preoccupied with thinking that Effie might be his downfall that he hadn’t considered the possibility that he could be HER downfall. Intensity crashed over him in waves. He hadn’t expected to feel any of this. Yet here it was.

Effie picked up a stick and started writing in the damp sand. To anyone at a distance it would look like play. ‘Cameras aren’t watching quite everywhere.’

He erased her note with his foot then took the stick and wrote, ‘Where would we go?’

Her turn to erase and write. ‘I know a bar. It’s just dark enough...’

‘When?’ He wrote.

‘Tonight?” ...She hesitated, then dotted the ‘i’ with a heart.

“You’re so young,” he said aloud, “You have your whole future ahead of you. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“I hold my own. No one’s going to hurt me. ...Not even you, honey.”

He wanted to believe her. He erased the letters, leaving the heart for an instant, then brushed that away too. The word stuck in his throat. He could either swallow it or say it out loud.

“Tonight,” he whispered, “...And bring the jar of peaches — in case this afternoon isn’t enough.”

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #chaff #caesar flickerman #fluvia cardew #thg #thg fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #claudius templesmith #greasy sae #the capitol #HayffieFics

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ilguna · 5 years ago

Text

Tacenda - Chapter Eight (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 2.7k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Unfortunately, it wasn’t good enough. Snow had made the decision, and Elysia was required to let you guys know that the games would continue on tomorrow. It might be because Snow thought that Katniss being pregnant was bullshit. Or it could be because it’s the Quarter Quell. The Quell can’t be cancelled, and the games are never postponed.

Peeta gave it his bet shot though, and you can admire him for that.

“What would you do if I were pregnant?” you wonder out loud, looking over to Finnick from where you’re laying on the hammock.

He’s got a pad of paper and a pencil. He’s been sketching you in different poses from where he sits in a fancy, cushioned chair. He pauses for a moment, looking up at you.

“You mean like right now?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you rock the hammock a little bit, “I’m not pregnant or anything, I’m just curious is all.”

Finnick breathes out playfully, wiping some fake sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, “You had me worried for a second.”

It’s quiet for a moment, “Well?”

“Well, I guess I would have to do everything in my power to make sure that you win the games,” he says, “You would have to make it home, no exceptions.”

“You would break an alliance with them just to get me home?” you ask, laughing because the idea is a little ridiculous.

Finnick makes a face at you, “You really think I would let you die in that arena?”

“Hopefully not,” you say, “I wouldn’t think it would be that important.”

“You’re kidding.” he goes back to drawing on the paper for a little bit.

You lean your head back against the rope, “Would you want a boy or a girl first?”

“Now is not the time for dumb ideas.” Finnick laughs, and you join in.

You shrug, “I would want a boy first so he could look over his little sister.”

And it’s almost a curse on your family anyway. There’s always boys that are born first, and they tend to look after everyone else. It happened with your dad, until your uncle was lost in a fishing accident. You can’t remember any of it now, you were so small at the time.

Plus, the thought of having a little Finnick running around. With his hair, and his green eyes and his perfect personality. You’d melt instantly, because you know that Finnick would be such a great dad. An immediate replica of him.

You can see it all now. If the games hadn’t happened, you would have started to think about kids. You two have been waiting a while just because you guys are just hitting your mid-twenties and you have your entire life to look forward to. You guys thought that you had all the time in the world, so there was no rush.

You know how excited your family would have been to see you and Finnick ease up. A healthy distraction from your past. A new thing to focus on, and raise to be better than you and Finnick have ever been. You guys would pass on all this information so if they did get pulled for the games–since they’re not immune–they would be prepared.

“A boy would be nice,” Finnick agrees, “But I would like a girl.”

You look at him, “There’s no way. With our luck we’d end up with a boy because it’s tradition.”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s not tradition, it’s chance. Luck, as you said. And since it would be my genes–!”

You laugh, watching as he makes a fool of himself. He flexes his arm slightly, “She’ll have muscles as big as mine.”

“That’s one buff baby.” you laugh, and Finnick flips the paper to start a new drawing.

“At least we’d be able to cross another goal off the list.” he says quietly, “Have a baby.”

You nod slowly, because now you’re realizing that the list will be incomplete.

Of course, there’s a chance that neither of you die in that arena, for however long it lasts for. Since you guys will be protecting Katniss and Peeta to make sure that they get out of the arena at the first chance that comes. And now you’ll start banking on that hope.

The list doesn’t have to be incomplete. You just have to be extremely careful when it comes to every fight you come across. Whether that be with people, or mutts, or some element that they throw in.

“Let’s hope that we make it out together.” you tell him.

Even from where you guys sit in Finnick’s room, you guys can hear the knocking at the apartment door. Finnick sits up a little bit, debating if it’s worth it, and then he leans back down. Elysia and Mags are out there with the prep teams and stylists, they’ll be able to answer the door.

They’re letting you and Finnick relax, instead of forcing you guys to spend time with them out there. You’ve already eaten dinner with them, had conversation, and complimented the outfits that they made you guys. You thanked them for everything that they’ve done for you.

Laurel told you to save it for tomorrow because that’s when she’ll be seeing you off before you’re in the arena. So, you saved your goodbyes for your prep team, whom cried like babies as if they didn’t realize that this was it. This was going to be the last time that you would see them.

“Finnick!” Laurel yells.

Finnick sighs, tossing the pad of paper on the bed, and then he comes over to you to help you off the hammock. Once you’re on your feet, the both of you head out to see why they were yelling.

Haymitch stands at the door, almost like he’s impatient.

“What’s the matter?” you ask.

You go down the steps, joining Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy at the door.

“Here,” Haymitch holds out the bracelet to Finnick, “For tomorrow.”

You open your mouth in an ‘O’ shape. It’s the new token that Haymitch had promised to get one of you. It’s to show Katniss–mostly–that you guys are supposed to be allies. It’s Haymitch’s way of telling them to stick close to you guys. That he had set up an alliance, and he doesn’t want them to screw it up.

It was decided on the third day of training on what your roles would be in the arena. Haymitch had stopped you guys and taken you into the stairwell instead. Sure, it could have been extremely suspicious of you guys, but it’s not like they would be able to make anything out of it. Just three people taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

You guys have everything sorted out.

Katniss had apparently taken a liking to you for whatever reason, which was good enough for Haymitch. There’s a great possibility that Katniss will trust you a little more when it comes to things. So you’re going to have to make sure that she’s calm, and she’s looking to you guys a little more for decision making.

It was decided then that you and Finnick would be the ones to follow her and Peeta around. Get your weapons, and then get the hell out of there. Since there’s a great chance that Katniss will run towards the cornucopia rather than run away. This is why there’s two of you.

Finnick will be doing his best to get to the cornucopia first so that he’s there for Katniss. And you can relax a little bit when it comes to that, because your job is to be eyes-on making sure that they don’t run away. They run away, you follow. They run towards the cornucopia, Finnick is there to catch them.

As for Johanna, she’s supposed to round up Wiress and Beetee for Katniss’ sake, since those are the two people that she had wanted to team up with originally. If everything had gone her way, it would be you, Peeta, Katniss, Wiress and Beetee. Honestly, you’re glad that Haymitch didn’t allow her to make any choices in this.

And everyone else will be doing what they have to. Get their weapons, meet up with you guys later in the arena. You aren’t supposed to seek them out, they’ll be searching for you. Which will be absolute hell for them, especially if it’s a difficult arena to navigate.

It’s not your problem. Your main focus will be on making sure that Katniss and Peeta don’t get hurt by the careers. And since you’ve had more than your fair share of experience with careers, you know how their minds work. They’re going to want the cornucopia all to themselves, and they’re going to take it any way they can.

“Thanks,” Finnick says.

“And (Y/n), I got you one too.” Haymitch says, he pulls out a gold ring that’s engraved to look like a beach. With seashells, little dots for the sand and a wave too.

You look down at your wedding ring, tilting your head a little bit as if you’re not sure it’s worth it. Then, you pull it off.

“Thank you. These have already passed the inspection?”

He nods.

You take the new ring into your hand, and you hold it in your hand with the wedding ring. Something that it’s so simple, that it could be mistaken for a pinky ring. It doesn’t have diamonds, it isn’t made out of gold and it doesn’t have any gemstones attached to it. It’s literally polished silver, weaved into the pattern of a single wave.

“Hold onto our rings for us?” you ask, holding out your hand a little bit for him.

Finnick takes off his too, and Haymitch pockets them, he nods, “I’ll take good care of them.”

“We will too.” You say, and you know that he’ll take it in the way, that you guys will be careful with Katniss and Peeta.

You slip on the new ring, a little unsure by how it feels since it’s not a smooth texture. But soon enough, you get used to it.

You guys say your goodbyes, and once the door is shut, they all stare at you and Finnick expectedly. Only, Mags already knows the plan on what’s going to happen in there. It’s the prep team and Elysia that have no idea.

You and Finnick end up excusing yourselves to go to bed, not really wanting to stay up much longer. If you guys are dragging your feet tomorrow, then that’ll come back and bite you in the ass. Before you guys went into the rooms though, you had to hand off the jewelry to Pleurisy and Laurel to hold onto.

It was a hard night to sleep through, you’ll give it that. It took a while for Finnick to fall asleep, and you thought that might have been the problem for you. You were worried about him not getting sleep, but in reality, things weren’t just sticking correctly for you.

The idea of having Alyssum watch you in there was off-putting. She obviously knows what you had to go through in order to win the games the first time. But you guys never really talk about it. You don’t really say ‘back when I was in the games’ in a conversation. It was overlooked for so long, because it was so meaningless until the games came around and you and Finnick had to go and mentor.

She knows that you had to kill people, but she doesn’t actively think about it. Tomorrow, she’ll get to see just how ruthless you are when it comes to killing. You can’t be nice about it. You can’t lessen the blow with what you do, because that’ll just end up getting you screwed over.

You can’t just mercy kill. If you’re going to kill someone, then that means you have to go through with it. Mercy kills are saved for mutt attacks. If someone is giving you hell in the arena, and you finally get your hands on them, then you’re not going to kill them quickly. If they’re all over your tracks, and they’re teasing, and stealing and coming back for more, there’s no way you’re letting them get away with it. You’ll show them the treatment that they deserve. Even if it’s not pretty.

The hunger games aren’t pretty.

You got up this morning relatively quickly. You and Finnick were up the moment the clock hit seven, despite having at least four or five hours to get ready. You took a shower, being careful of your fake nails, because they’re going to be helpful in the arena, you just know it.

You washed your hair and made sure to tie it back and out of your face in a tight ponytail. You pulled on what they require you to wear. Which is the leggings, the tank top, and the jacket this time around is optional. You slip on your shoes and break them in so you don’t get anymore blisters by accident.

You and Finnick eat as much as you can muster without feeling sick. You drink everything in its usual order, and after the first cup of coffee, you opt for a second. You stop there though, afraid that your stomach will start becoming upset after that.

You guys had got escorted to where the hovercraft would be coming from a few minutes ago. Finnick sits right next to you, holding onto your hand tightly. Unfortunately with these seats, you can’t lean into him like you want to. The lady comes around with a tracker, and you hold out your right arm, since the left is what you went with the first year.

Finnick follows you with the same arm, not really bothered with how thick the needle is. He leans his back against the seat with his eyes closed.

Only a few minutes later, you guys had reached the underground area. You kiss Finnick goodbye and tell him to be careful. He tells you to do the same, and you split up with your stylists. Laurel leads you down a series of halls until you guys get to this year’s place.

They offer no food this year. It’s like a sewer with how the place is framed. They’ve got pipes coming in and out of places, and you guys are standing on metal ground. Here, Laurel makes you get changed into your outfit for this year. It’s like a wetsuit, long sleeved, down to your ankles.. It has the neck of a regular shirt though, without the brim. And finally, black boots that seem to be waterproof. And you’re using the word ‘boots’ lightly.

“Here’s your ring.” Laurel slips it on to where your wedding ring is supposed to be.

The voice lets you know that there’s only thirty seconds left before you’re supposed to step into the tube that’ll bring you to the surface.

“Thank you, Laurel.” you hug her tightly, and she squeezes as much as she can afford to, “You were the best stylist I could have asked for.”

“I know.” She laughs, “I promise to send you something.”

“Don’t go bankrupt,” you smile, “Send me something useful, huh? Not some dress that you designed.”

Laurel nods, “I will.”

“Fifteen seconds until launch.”

You grab onto Laurel’s arms, “Tell Mags I say goodbye, alright? I’ll be doing my best in there, but it’s going to be a miracle case.”

She nods and hugs you a final time.

You go ahead and step into where you’re supposed to stand. Watching as the glass comes down from the top. It makes you feel a little claustrophobic at first, but you manage to remember that it’s only for a couple of seconds.

You wave goodbye to Laurel, and she does the same. After that, you turn your back towards her.

And take a deep breath in.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair tacenda #tacenda

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everlark-your-own-adventure · 8 years ago

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Mockingjay Manor - Ch 9

Chapter One /// Chapter Two /// Chapter Three /// Chapter Four /// Chapter Five /// Chapter Six /// Chapter Seven /// Chapter Eight

Happy Tuesday, Everlarkers! It’s time for one last visit to Mockingjay Manor. Times are tense for our heroes, injuries and enemies abound. How will they extract themselves from this mess? Hang on tight as @katnissdoesnotfollowback concludes our gripping journey in dramatic style!

“Do you still have your phone?” I ask Finnick. Seneca has now made his way inside the house, dousing the floors in the foyer with gasoline as he goes, and I briefly think that it’d be too much to ask for experiment M to make a reappearance right about now.

“In my pocket, but it’s dead,” Finnick reminds me, shifting Peeta’s weight on his shoulders.

“Peeta keeps a charger in the glove box. Here.” I try to search his pockets, but Peeta mumbles something and flinches back away from me again. Finnick barely keeps them from tumbling to the ground. He’s figured out what I’m doing, though, and distracts Peeta long enough for me to get the keys out of his pocket. “Make for the Jeep, call 9-1-1 as soon as you can. I’ll try to stall Seneca somehow.”

“Be careful, Katniss,” Finnick warns and then slinks through the shadows closer to the Jeep. I creep my way up to the front porch. From behind one of the columns, I watch Effie through the windshield as she lifts a large compact and slicks on a coat of lipstick. While she’s focused on her appearance, I slip inside the house and square my shoulders.

“Hey, asshole!” I yell and Seneca whirls around to face me, spraying gasoline over the beautiful floors. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was looking for you,” he states weakly. “It’s so dangerous to go exploring in a rickety old house this late at night.”

“So you were going to burn it down around my ears?” I ask and Seneca fumbles for a moment or two, waving his hand in a useless gesture.

“Of course not,” he insists and rage fills me. I think of Johanna and Madge, somewhere in this house and oblivious to the danger they’re in. At least this new one. I think of Uncle Haymitch and how he’d been manipulated, used, and possibly blackmailed. His murdered wife Maysilee. Creepy Snow and his experiments topped off with these two greedy leeches trying to burn down my house and not caring who they hurt in the process. And I think of Peeta, his strange behavior and how I might still lose him tonight. But if I think about that too much, I might go insane, so instead I cling to my rage and pull the threads before I come unraveled.

I point towards the bright red gas can in his hands and snarl at him. “So I suppose that’s here to start a campfire. Did you bring marshmallows, too? I’m afraid I’m all out of chocolate bars to make s’mores. Fed them to the creepy, mutant birds in the attic.”

“Well I, uh—” he stammers and then the strangest thing happens. His eyes harden and he stands up straight. The usual fop that I’ve come to despise on some low level disappears and in his place is something sleeker and far more dangerous. “You’re just like him, you know. Your uncle. He was sarcastic and blind when he met his end, too.”

I take a few steps inside and Seneca flinches, so I keep going. “He died of a heart attack,” I remind Seneca, who laughs cruelly at my words.

“Oh no, my dear Katniss. He didn’t at all.”

“You’re a murderer!” I shout. He smiles and then something sharp scrapes painfully across my back. I yell and stagger forward, falling to my knees as I hear the familiar click clack of Effie’s heels and the soft tsk-ing of her tongue. Flames lick over my back as the floor boils in bright orange bubbles. How stupid of me to think she’d just wait inside the car.

“So impolite. Making such vile, unfounded accusations. Seneca is merely taking care of a public menace for me, aren’t you darling?” Effie trills as she examines her nails. The ends glow with something viscous and red. I try to crawl towards the door, but the orange bubbles have turned hot and burn my palms. The floor tilts violently and I retch. “Not to worry, my dear. The first dose is always the worst. From there…it’s only a matter of time.” Seneca hands her a fluttering white cloth and she sighs as she wipes her nails with it, staining the pristine thing red. Her talons, I realize. She’s laced them with the devil’s breath. Vines of the things sprout from the floor and wrap around my ankles, slowing my progress.

“And since you don’t have much time, let me explain a few things to you. Haymitch Abernathy was a drunken fool. A coward, too afraid to take risks. He was on his way to becoming one of the greatest engineers of our time but instead, he wanted a family with that whiny milksop of a wife. Well I knew I couldn’t just let him go and waste his millions on a pack of snotty children just like you. Poor Maysilee, unable to conceive though they did try so very hard,” Effie sings the words in a grating tune of false sympathy. I’ve almost reached the door as she keeps talking. Maybe if I can get there, through the ant hills sprouting up from the floor and spewing forth giant red ants, maybe I can flag down Finnick in the Jeep. My pulse pounds in my ears and for a moment, I think my heart actually slows. The distant rumbles of thunder alert me to the return of the storm.

“Well I couldn’t let them adopt a child. So Seneca and I took measures to make sure they didn’t. Your dear friend was correct about that,” she sneers and I freeze. How could she know about Madge–

Effie whistles and a flock of birds swoops gracefully down from the rafters. “Experimented on her with the Devil’s Breath.” One of them says in Madge’s voice. “Let experiment M loose.” Johanna’s voice joins in, “You need an exorcist.”

“Weapons in the house,” another says in my voice this time. Another sings about the hanging tree in Finnick’s and I cover my ears as all of our voices merge together and the birds form a swarm, screaming out in pain and fear.

“Katniss! Run!” Peeta’s voice yells above me. Peeta. I have to get to Peeta. It’s all I can think as the wings beat all around me, their beaks pecking at me and their words driving me insane. There’s a puff of sulfur and a light just above me. I reach towards it as Seneca stares down at me from the doorway, his face garish in the light from the match, his eyes black tar pits. I can just see the Jeep at a distance, two figures wrestling in the night. One of them scrambles for the door and the other wrenches him away as Effie hums and saunters back towards her Jaguar, it’s eyes glowing red. I can’t move. Instead, I watch, helpless as Peeta falls on Finnick and his fingers close around his throat—

“Okay, that’s it!” I shout and snatch the flashlight from Johanna’s hands. She freezes with her arm extended, hand curled into a strangling motion and her face twisted in rage. “You are not making Peeta murder Finnick.”

“What? No!” Finnick protests and shoves another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “If waf ‘us effing ‘ood.”

“Oh it was only now getting good?” Johanna asks and pops her hip to glare at her good friend.

Peeta lifts his marshmallow from the fire and frowns at the flaming thing before blowing it out. “Dang it, Jo. You made me burn another one.”

“Let her finish, Katniss,” Annie protests, her green eyes wide and luminescent in the firelight. “I want to know how it ends.”

“No!” I yell and everyone stares at me. I cross my arms and wriggle deeper into the blanket. “Couldn’t you have at least told your scary story from your own point of view?”

“That’s no fun,” Jo says with a wicked grin. “I don’t scare as easily as you do.”

“BLAGH!”

Hands clamp down on my shoulders. I scream. Smack them off and jump straight into Peeta’s lap as the other’s around the campfire lose it. Even Peeta’s biting his lip and trying not to laugh at me. I whack his chest as Madge wraps her arms around us both.

“I’m sorry, Katniss. I couldn’t resist,” Madge says between laughs. I plant my hand on her face and shove her away.

“None of you are my friends anymore,” I say petulantly.

“So do we all die or what?” Peeta asks and Jo shrugs before pointing around the circle. She starts with Finnick.

“Killed by your friend because you’re the jokester.” Next comes Madge. “Burned alive in the house, still haunts the grounds to this day with eerie song.” Madge claps her hands in glee. Then Johanna points to Peeta. “Locked in an asylum for the rest of your days.” To me, “Killed by the villain in your heroic efforts to save everyone else. Oh and that’s also because you had s-e-x,” she whispers the letters as she crosses her arms and grins. I sputter and protest that this was her story, not mine. She ignores me and moves on to herself. “Got away but don’t worry, I bite it in the sequel. Torn to shreds by the inexplicable reappearance of Experiment M.” She wriggles her fingers and twists her features into a grotesque mask. Then she drops her voice into a quiet but deep, creepy warble. “And Annie? Annie visits the burned-out shell of a house to look for her beloved and only finds the charred remains of a brass keyring, the echoes of birdsong, and half of Maysilee’s burned up portrait. Annie, of course, is the star of that sequel.”

“Oh no,” Annie says in the long pause after Johanna’s words and shakes her head, although she’s smiling.

“This is the thanks I get for letting you stay in my lavish mansion and mooch off my riches,” I mock. I try to stay mad at Johanna, but I can’t. The others seem just fine, talking about their favorite parts of her winding and twisted tale. Eventually, the full moon hangs high above us and the distant sounds of the night animals prowling in the woods beyond the fences reach our ears. Annie shivers and Finnick wraps a blanket around her, telling us that they’re turning in for the night. Madge and Johanna are next, laughing about the reality of our first meeting.

“No mutant birds, but I’m still not sure what kind of fungus that was growing in that attic aviary,” Madge jokes as she refers to the room she was hired to consult on the restoration of, only for us to learn that she was also Haymitch’s niece through her Aunt Maysilee.

When it’s just Peeta and me, he roasts a few more marshmallows for us while I stand on the edge of the verandah and gaze up at the restored façade of Mockingjay Manor. It took some serious work and we almost missed our six month deadline, but in the end, we managed to meet Haymitch’s challenge.

I shift my eyes to look over at the house falling into disrepair next door. Next door is thankfully a bit of distance, though. It took the chill of fall to finally kill the smell of the genetically altered roses from his gardens and it will take some time to get over Coriolanus Snow’s attempts to blackmail me with Uncle Haymitch’s past as we worked to restore the manor. His nearly successful tries at blocking each step of the project. For now, it’s Snow’s estate that remains embroiled in legal debates, the old man having finally croaked during tea time, his death shrouded in mystery along with the scars ranging in age from a few weeks to years old found all over his body, resembling claw markings but unmatched to any kind of animal known to science. Maybe that’s why Johanna’s story freaked me out so much. Because at some point, it became difficult to find the line between the real and the made up as she spun the tale.

Mockingjay cosmetics, the hushed-up scandals of corporate misdeeds and ethics violations. The weird dreams that plagued Peeta for weeks after clearing the gardens and the bushes filled with razor sharp thorns left his arms cut and his blood exposed to toxins from fungi and plants alike. Even the hint of murder in Maysilee’s death. The child scheduled for adoption to two eager parents who built her a beautiful nursery, left somewhere in the system when the adoption agency pulled out and refused to give just Haymitch custody after Maysilee died. Haymitch wanted me to make it right, to find her and make sure she had a home, a family. I have a name – Lavinia Tulane. But I still haven’t gotten much farther than that.

“We’ll keep looking,” Peeta assures me as he steps up behind me and wraps his arms around me, his loud footfalls ensuring that he, at least, can’t scare me tonight. Something about Johanna’s story keeps nagging at me, though, and as I look up at Peeta’s concerned face, I know what it is that upset me so much. Just the idea of losing Peeta. But he’s here in front of me, so very alive and safe as he speaks softly. “In the meantime, do you want that last s’more? Or would you rather just go to bed?” That’s a question I definitely know the answer to. So I grab his hand and tug him inside and up the stairs, to where adventures of a more enjoyable nature await.

And that, friends, concludes Mockingjay Manor! We hope you enjoyed the ride! The story, in its entirety, will be posted on AO3 in time for Hallowe’en.

We’d like to express our deepest gratitude to our incredible group of authors, @burkygirl, @jennagill, @albinokittens300, @peetamymuse, @norbertsmom, @appleblossomgirl0305, @mega-aulover, @xerxia31, @katnissdoesnotfollowback and @peetabreadgirl. Your talent and creativity astounds us, you took this story to places we never could have imagined. Thank you!!

Itching for more Everlark-your-own-adventure? Stay tuned, because we’ll be launching a brand new story soon!

#EYOA #everlark #parting is such sweet sorrow #mockingjay manor

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 8 years ago

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Happy Birthday jenny03suki!

We wish @jenny03suki a very belated Happy Birthday! In order to help you celebrate your day @mega-aulover has written a Everlark story just for you! We hope you like it :)

Prompt: Werewolf/Incest. Peeta and Katniss are half or full blood siblings. They have been having a secret relationship when their secret of being mates comes to light when Katniss’s heat cycle happens and blows up when the pack see Katniss’s body changes as their forbidden pup grows inside her.

Rated: M (Trigger Warnings: Minor violence & Suggested incest)

A/N: A major thanks to @norbertsmom for helping me with this prompt. She gave me the idea for the story and for betaing it at the last hour.

Forbidden Love

The alarming sounds of howling disturbed Katniss as she returned back to her den with food. Everything looked off. The ground looked disturbed. Concerned, Katniss called out, “Peeta.”

She wanted to keep positive. Peeta didn’t know this part of the woods, and she hoped he was around the corner. But nothing at their small home seemed right. She began to panic; something was wrong. She reached out with her mind. ‘Peeta where are you?’

‘Katniss,’ Peeta’s voice sounded, reverberated in her soul. ‘They’ve found us. Run! Hide!’

“Peeta, where are you?” Katniss frowned looking for clues as to their direction.

“I’m leading them away from you.” Peeta warned, “Don’t follow me, Katniss.”

“No!” Katniss said in her mind and out loud in frustration. Peeta always put her first like this foolish plan of his to take on the other clansmen on his own.

“Katniss, I need you to run and save yourself!” Peeta ordered.

The howls grew angrier and they didn’t sound that far away. They were nearing him, she dropped the game she caught. “I’m coming,” Katniss replied to him.

“No, stay away…our pup,” Peeta voice sounded desperate and she could have sworn scared.

Katniss ignored his voice and pushed passed her fear clouded-mind. Using the heightened sense of smell that came with being pregnant, and her tracking abilities, she ran through the forest. She glanced around at the broken twigs and disturbed underbrush indicated there were three of her clan chasing Peeta. She could smell the strong wolf musk mixed with pine, damp earth, berries, and wild flowers. It revealed it was her cousin Gale and his hunting pack that were chasing after Peeta.

Her heart rate increased, her eyesight sharpened, as she picked out a piece of the shirt Peeta was wearing. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the air, trying to determine the direction in which they had gone.

She could smell Peeta’s scent of bread, dill and cinnamon. Her mate was a baker. He was drawn to the kitchens as a child, preferred to be around Ripper than with the other members of the Clan. Compared to other clans their pack was small. Her father arranged for Katniss to marry into another group.

It was a necessary step to help protect them against their enemy Snow. Katniss understood it was her duty to go through the pre-arranged marriage to an undisclosed clan member that was set up by her uncle Haymitch before she was born. Both families were supposed to meet today for the first time. Haymitch had left before Peeta could present himself before her father yesterday; her uncle had no idea of the chaos that was going on internally within the clan. It was a scandal, not only because she broke her words but because of Peeta.

Katniss was afraid her family was desperate enough to teach Peeta a lesson. It was why she hid so deep in the forest. Why she made sure to cover their tracks. Her inner wolf wanted to leap out but Katniss did not let her, she wanted to touch Peeta, make sure he was fine.

She heard the growling before she saw them at the base of a cliff the three wolves morphed into their human form surrounding Peeta. It was Gale who struck first.

“NOOOO,” Katniss screamed.

Thom, Rory, and Bristel egged Gale on as he struck Peeta repeatedly. Katniss knew Peeta wouldn’t defend himself. When she got close enough, her inner wolf leapt out to protect him. Katniss jumped in front of Peeta, baring her canine teeth, snarling and snapping at the men of her clan. Her mate’s body lay limp behind her.

Her cousin Gale and his friends surrounded them.

“Catnip, get out of the way,” Gale growled. “You’ve always been too damned innocent for your own good, protecting the un-favored one.”

Katniss growled, she was fueled by the need to protect her family. Her wolf form coiled ready to attack if Gale came closer.

Gale’s eyes looked menacing, his voice dipped low, “Catnip, you’re his sister. You shouldn’t have married him. Your union is accursed, and your pup is unnatural.”

Katniss narrowed her large silver-like lupine eyes at Gale. He didn’t understand, None of them did. Peeta never forced himself on her. To the outside it was a horrible deed.

It was all so complicated.

She was bonded to Peeta in a way no could understand. Not even her parents comprehended the drive to be with Peeta. From a very young age Katniss had been aware of Peeta, she’d fought the attraction to him because they were siblings, but as she matured her inner wolf screamed that this was her mate. It drove her to finally take the oath of marriage with him, and it wasn’t until she was with him, that she’d found peace and happiness. Nothing matter in the end, and even the preoccupation of breaking the pact with the other clan melted away once she was tied with Peeta.

They kept it a secret from the members of their clan until Katniss found herself pregnant with a pup. She’d wanted to run away with Peeta, but he wanted to do the honorable thing and go before their father and tell him the truth.

Their father had exploded into a fit of rage.

Adam Everdeen wasn’t one prone to violence. By nature he was an even tempered man, but Katniss was his favorite child. Peeta was his least favorite, and was known amongst the clan as the ‘unfavored child’. When it came to his children Adam loved Katniss and Prim but it was known he couldn’t stand his only son and it was a mystery as to why.

Peeta looked like Prim, fair skinned, with blond hair, but their blue eyes were different. While Prim's’ eyes were paler like that of their mother, Peeta’s were a brilliant blue that looked violet.

At the clan’s discovery that they’d married, Katniss convinced Peeta to run away, going into the deep forest. This morning Katniss had left Peeta sleeping in the small den they’d found for themselves; she had to go hunting for food. Had she’d stayed, Gale and the others wouldn’t have done this to him.

Katniss was scared and angry and was ready to die, if need be.

Gale morphed into his wolf form, a formidable gray and black wolf, which was menacing, though his white paws made him look dainty. Peeta’s color was unlike anyone else’s in the clan. He had a pure white coat. Not even Prim’s was completely white; hers was mixed with gray and had black markings on her tail that looked like a duck. Katniss focused her energy on defeating her hunting partner.

There were only two large wolves in their pack, one was her father and the other was Peeta. Though what Gale lacked in size he made up for it with speed. She kept an eye out for the others who remained in their human form.

Gale was a practiced hunter; he knew how to trap his pray. However, Katniss knew his weakness. He walked around her growling. Her eyes glowed, showing him she wasn’t afraid. Gale lunged at her and she snapped back and bit his nose.

Gale jumped back and his eyes took that predatory glint when he was angry at his prey. He whipped around and jumped mid air to attack Katniss, when another wolf hit him on the side and pinned him.

“That’s enough!” The mighty boom of Adam's’ voice resounded in the woods.

Gale half whined, half growled, instantly turning back to his human form. Bristel immediately joined him.

Their father was surrounded by some of the other elders from their pack. Adam harshly said, “Gale I told you to find them, not hurt them.”

Katniss, seeing that the attack had relented, morphed back to her human form. Her concern was for her mate. “Peeta,” she whispered, tears were running down her face.

He sat up, his face was bruised and she felt the pain radiating from his middle, as if he had bruised ribs. Because they were bonded as mates, Katniss could feel every ache acutely.

His pain, and her hormonal state, overwhelmed her emotions and she cried bitterly. His arms went around her and once more the feeling of being home overwhelmed Katniss. “Hush,” Peeta comforted, quietly pulling the sarong Katniss had disposed of when morph into her wolf form around her shoulders, hiding her small belly.

“They hurt you, Peeta,” Katniss whispered, “because of me.”

His hand gently rubbed her back, and she curled into his lap, desperate to make him feel better.

“I’m okay, I’ll be fine,” Peeta assured her.

“Katniss,” their father addressed her.

Katniss looked up to see their father looking at her with concern. Her father was always prone to notice details others missed. His silver eyes didn’t miss the way Peeta tenderly held her or the way she acted.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Adam said, “but you must see why, what you’ve done is an abomination. You’re my children.”

Katniss closed her eyes and said, “We left so that you wouldn’t have to live with our decision.”

Adam rubbed his face then roared, “Katniss, don’t you dare defend him; this is his fault. This child has been nothing but trouble.”

Their mother came up behind their father. “Adam, you’ve always been harder on the boy.”

Adam said, “But she’s his sister, Ava.”

“I love him,” Katniss confessed. “He’s my mate. I tried to ignore it but I couldn’t. I had to be with him, had to bond with him.” Katniss recalled the first time they kissed. It was if she was lit on fire from within, and a hunger for him ripped through her, naked desire for Peeta.

“We didn’t mean for this to happen. I know Katniss wasn’t supposed to be mine.” Peeta looked at Katniss. “I can’t live without her and you both know…”

“Katniss has always needed you,” Ava whispered. “When your father made you stay that summer with Uncle Haymitch, Katniss didn’t want to eat, and couldn’t sleep.”

Adam barked, “No, Ava, do not justify what happened. They are brother and sister!”

“They are soul-mates, and we’ve known it for years. Even as children they behaved not as siblings, but future companion,” Ava sighed heavily. “I am afraid there was nothing we could do; you know as well as I do if they hadn’t mated they would’ve found a way.”

A gentle howl penetrated the air.

People whispered to one another. There was a matron within their pack, an elder who had taken Peeta under her wing when he was a pup. She was the oldest amongst them. Greasy Sae was so old her gray black fur looked silver when she morphed into her wolf form. She was the only original wolf alive from when their kind settled in this area, hundreds of years ago. Her great-great-granddaughter led her through the woods. She had a shawl wrapped around her frail body.

Adam paid his respects, “Greasy, we are most honored.”

Greasy nodded as she walked past Adam and knelt before Katniss and Peeta. “It’s finally happened.”

“Just as you said it would, they’ve mated,” Ava whispered.

“It’s only natural,” Greasy stated patting Katniss face.

“Greasy they are siblings,” Adam muttered, casting his eyes away from Katniss and Peeta.

“Are they?” Greasy countered back. “You’ve always had a temper just like your half brother Earl. It’s why Ava was captured she was chasing after your brother after one of your hot headed arguments, or do you no recall what happened eighteen years ago today?”

Adam, voice was tempered but all could see he was still angered, “Sae why bring up the past.”

Sae stood before Katniss, “Because it is relevant and it has to do with the children.”

Katniss was confused, “What is she speaking of?”

Katniss watched her father sit on a fallen log. “We agreed never to speak about it.”

“But we must, for now there is the life of an unborn pup at stake,” Greasy said chuckling.

Katniss blushed, it was Greasy who guessed she was pregnant. It explained her mood swings, her inability to stomach certain foods or people. She felt Peeta’s hand lay across her midsection protectively. Katniss could feel him getting better, it made her body ache less. She glanced into his shining eyes. He was excited he was going to be a father.

“Before you were born, Ava was captured by Snow. Your mother was, as I said before, looking for Earl. No one knew Snow had the area under surveillance. He was looking for any opportunity to control your father and a few of his strongest trapped your mother.”

Katniss eyes flew to her mother who by now sat clutching her father's arm. Adam wound his arm around Ava. “It was horrible, she had a difficult pregnancy. Trying to escape, she went into labor.”

“She gave birth in the forest without anyone to assist her during her birth. She was bleeding.” Adam gently looked at Ava, “At the first sign of blood they left. We were lucky we found her in the forest when we did.”

“How did you find them?”

“Katniss and Prim were together, in their human form. Peeta was in his pup form covering them.” Adam said, shaking his head. “Why go over this Greasy? You were there.”

“Since when have you ever heard of a newborn being able to transform hours after they were born?” Greasy’s words suddenly made everything click.

Katniss glanced at her husband, hope blossomed in her silver eyes. It was a well know fact, newborns needed up to a week to be able to make that transition. They were not yet strong enough, and some pups do not morph until they are three months old. Greasy then followed up with, “Peeta is not part of your pack.”

There was silence amongst as all eyes turned to Peeta.

“He must have felt the pull toward Katniss, and went to her aid. It was his infant howls that drew you to where Ava and the girls were. He was protecting his mate.”

“He doesn’t even look like us,” Gale whispered.

“He doesn’t for a good reason,” a new voice said. “He’s more typical of the wolves from the northern fringes.” The clans’ men all stood at once at the appearance of three strangers standing at the cliff. The light was behind them, and growls were heard.

“Stand down, it’s me,” Haymitch’s gruff voice came from the top of the cliff.

“Haymitch,” the word spread amongst those gathered as they watched Haymitch and two others slowly descended, when they arrived Katniss gasped. One of the men looked like Peeta, an older version, but it was Peeta’s face.

“My son, you have indeed found my son,” the man spoke.

Peeta stood amazed at the man that looked like him. “Father?”

Adam was perplexed, “Haymitch, what is the meaning of this?”

Haymitch rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d forgotten what they looked like, it was done over nineteen years ago, before the girls were born. We’ve maintained in contact through missives. It wasn’t until I went to get them that I discovered Harland was Peeta’s father. Eighteen years ago, Peeta’s dad and a group of his men were in this part of the woods looking for a peaceful resolution with Snow. Snow attacked them, and Peeta was lost in the mix.”

“I thought him dead, and when your Haymitch told me of his existence and that he was interested in your eldest girl, I had to come see for myself.” Harland grabbed his son by the face. He turned to Adam. “I am indebted to you. For you did not have to take care of him, but you’ve made him your own child.”

Katniss could see her father had no words, she stepped up. “I carry your grandchild.”

He was quiet, then laughed, then howled mightily. He transformed into a massive pure white wolf just like Peeta. Katniss smiled and was glad she’d followed her heart.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by mega-aulover

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