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clatoera · 1 year

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Always Remember We’re Burned for Better Chapter 15: If I’m On Fire, You’ll be Made of Ashes Too

...Hey y’all. Sorry I sucked again and didn’t post for 17 days. I had a literal breakdown over boards and worked 70 hours a week two weeks ago and! Yeah! Here we are! Back to full length chapters too so! woo.

Direct quotes from Mockingjay are not mine!

TW for Glimmer’s speech at the end (Finnick’s speech in the book/movie)

Title from My Tears Ricochet (T swift of course)

AO3

Masterpost

As always. thank you to my besties, who I feel bad tagging every week, but I don’t feel bad tagging @kentwells ever so!

Anyway...let's do it.

“We’re never going to lose these ‘mentally unstable’ bands if you keep taking a swing at everyone who looks at us wrong.” Finnick flicks a shred of bread in Cato’s general direction, sure that no one would see him dare to waste food, even if that food was a glorified crouton. “You know she isn’t here for you to impress, right?”

“Leave him alone, Finnick.” Glimmer sighs, tired of yet another version of the same conversation. Cato’s unhinged. Glimmer’s unstable. Cato’s a loose cannon. Glimmer’s not to be trusted alone. “Gale deserved it, anyway, he’s running his mouth that the two of us are together-“

“And we would never.” Cato stabs the slightly sharper end of his spoon into the tray of lunch, having lost his privileges to any further utensil when he threatened to carve out Gale Hawthorne’s eyes with the spork he had just been upgraded to. “No offense, of course, Glimmer.”

“Oh, none taken! You were never my type anyway.” She offers over her full fledged fork and goes back to ripping up the stale roll to toss back at Finnick. “Besides , they were starting the same rumors about me and you Finny, that's not a rumor we need Annie to hear when we get her back.”

Such is how they, as the surviving victors, had decided to talk. It had to become when we got them back, not if. False hope or not, it was all they had to get them through day to day life in the hell hole that is District 13. It was a light at the end of an impossibly long tunnel that was the other side of this great war.

“I’ve had worse. He doesn’t even leave a mark.” Cato brushes off, taking Glimmer’s offering with an appreciative nod. “His only value is fawning over Fire girl anyway.”

“He keeps her stable enough. Which, you know you aren't getting any closer to getting them back by going after her personal attack dog, right ?” Finnick warns, noting how Katniss sits a safe distance away from Gale at their assigned table entirely across the room, firmly lodged against her little sister’s side.

“I find it hard to believe she cares about Peeta if she’s so easily moving on.” Glimmer huffs before she rests her left elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “I’ll never be able to love someone else. And I don’t want to. You’d have to kill me before I'd just…move on that easily. She changes her man more often than she changes her braid.”

“Oh he wants her, but she doesn't feel the same.” Finnick assures, fingers falling into a familiar pattern of braiding his napkin. It was obsessive and unintentional, but it kept him in one piece. “She feels like she owes him, I think. For getting her family out…”

“And he left Peeta’s behind.” Cato reminds, a tone in voice that could nearly be disgust if someone really wanted to call it such, if they really wanted to look for meaning in the way he refers to the families from Twelve. “Seems like a low blow, leaving behind the family out of jealousy.”

He’ll deny it, fervently, to anyone who even suggests it, but there's something about the bombing of District Twelve right off the face of the map that settles inside him wrong. Sure, they were an outlying district, but wasn’t that the whole point of Panem? All the districts contribute to a greater good, providing some sort of service to the others. Twelve and Two, while plenty different, are both the mining districts after all. Maybe the mountainside villages of Two make the shantytowns of Twelve all the more desolate, but at their core, were they really that different in what they provided to the capitol?

If twelve was so expendable..what really makes the others any different?

Glimmer is the next one to renew the lease on her ‘mentally unstable’ armband, and lose their utensil privileges, when she actually uses a fork and goes after the same insufferable district twelve boy for having the audacity to insinuate that her relationship was fake.

–

“You two are wanted in the conference room.” A guard, maybe twice their age, announces at the door of their cell– room, okay fine it’s a room, but it may as well be their prison cell.

Glimmer shoots Cato a hesitant look– noone has ever wanted them in a conference, noone has ever given a single fuck about what they have to say about anything that happens to or around them. At this point though, what would the benefit of executing them be?

“Sorry, Conference call isn’t on my schedule for the day.” Cato holds up his left arm, with their printed schedules tattooed in for the day. Not that either of them followed them– ninety nine percent of their time was spent inside these four walls of this room. “Maybe if you factor it in we’ll consider–”

“It is not an option. You are expected promptly. Failure to attend will be seen as a direct act of discompliance and will have severe consequences.”

Cato tightens his jaw before he slips his feet over the edge of the bed, nodding to Glimmer to do the same. The narrowed look of her green eyes in his direction tells him all he needed to know– she can imagine the same consequence as him, which isn’t a direct threat to the two of them at all.

They say nothing as they follow this armed man, weaving through halls and up elevators, a route they could not re-create on their own even if they combined their brain power with the intention to do so.

The door has a keypad, opened only with a scan of the guard’s eye rather than any code they can memorize and exploit later.

Glimmer glances out of the corner of her eyes as she is ushered into the room a step in front of Cato, fully taking in the physicality of the guard as she passes him. They could probably take him, if one dispatched the gun from his hands and the other got him down.

Glimmer’s mental notes were tossed to the wayside when she saw the contents of the room.

Around a conference table sat Miss Mockingjay herself, Finnick Odair, a newly sober Haymitch Abernathy, Plutarch Heavensbee, Beetee, and a gray haired woman Glimmer could vaguely identify as the president of District 13.

Her eyes must betray her absolute distrust in the members of the room, as the guard behind her grabs her by the shoulders and goes to push her to the table, when Cato’s hand encircles one of the man’s wide wrists.

“Don’t touch her.” He warns, though it comes out as a warning growl. Cato would fight, that much he had proven over and over during their months long stint in the pit of hell that is District Thirteen.

“Now there’s no need for any of that–” Plutarch interrupts, and with a wave of his hand Glimmer’s shoulders are released and she steps forward on her own accord. “Please, sit. You two were invited here as guests for this conversation..”

“Oh, Guests? That's what we are here now? Guests?” Glimmer quips, but settles herself down in one of the conference chairs furthest away from anyone else, anyone who could reach up and grab at her. Guests, sure, of the local psychiatric lock down unit maybe.

“You have both been extended a generosity by District Thirteen under our protections. And you were both granted an even larger generosity under Miss. Everdeen’s Mockingjay deal. It would behoove you both to listen to the expectations that are required of you both.” The gray haired woman begins, addressing them both. However, it is like she sees through them both, refusing to look either in the face and instead staring through as if they are beneath her, unworthy of her attention.

Something about her steely gaze and underlying threats in her tone feels familiar to Cato, and for the briefest second it is like he is back in President Snow’s office being given an ultimatum with Clove at his side.

What he wouldn’t give to have her at his side now.

“...requested of you.” Plutarch intervenes, holding out a hand to stop the president from continuing on with what Cato assumes would be demanded. “We believe that having two victors from previously Career districts openly on the side of the Rebellion could help the cause, especially in District Two.”

“And before you start with the ‘we aren’t on the side of the rebellion’ crap,” Comes from Haymitch, who is more sober than either of them have ever seen him, looking dare they say well shaven and clean, “Remember who the Capitol has. If you think they’re being treated well out there… you’ve got another thing coming. This is how we get them back.”

“The faster we bring in the districts, the closer we are to Annie. And Clove. And Marvel. And Johanna and Peeta.” Finnick offers, also somehow miraculously looking healthier than he has since their time in Thirteen began. He had mentioned being allowed outside with Katniss for a few hours– the sunlight did him some good, clearly.

“It is expected that you will do your part to help this Revolution.” The cold voice of President Coin cuts through the warmer tones of past victors and a gamemaker, staring right into the center of Cato’s face. “If you give us cause to believe that you would in any way be a threat to this cause, we would have no choice but to remove that threat, and the threat your respective partners would present as well, once we got our opportunity.”

The threat is not even veiled, but before Cato can give her the rise and reaction Coin is prodding out of them, Katniss herself chimes in.

“That’s not part of the deal. The victors are pardoned. All of us.” Her tone is not the young girl who won the game, or the girl who gave everything for the sweet little sister that even Cato couldn’t hate, no, that was the voice of the leader of this rebellion. The power and insistence of someone with a lot more pull than she’d give herself credit for.

“Everyone is doing some part,” Plutarch interjects, attempting to assuage the underlying power struggle between the President and the Mockingjay. “Katniss is going into the battlefields, she’s shooting rallying calls on the front lines. Finnick has agreed to begin doing special features on fallen tributes from each district. Pulling on the heartstrings of every district one by one.”

“Glimmer, you were very popular in the capitol, maybe you could reach them.” Haymitch suggests, with a wave of his hand. “Smile, toss your hair, whatever it takes..”

Before Glimmer can snap back in response Cato takes over, despite how she deserves to say whatever the hell she wants at this point.

“How are you even getting in? Doesn’t Snow control the airways?” Cato leans back, arms crossed over his chest firmly, a stance of both disbelief and judgment. “Do districts even have televisions for this to get across?”

“I am responsible for the creation of a lot of the airways.” Beetee explains, wheeling his chair over to access a remote before clicking on the screen. “Here’s what we have so far.”

They watch the reel of Katniss in District Eight, as a hospital is obliterated in the background. They watch her on the front lines rediscovering District Twelve, and most notably, they hear her voice filling the air as she sings a song of rebellion and lovers running to their conjoined deaths.

“...maybe your talent should’ve been singing, not Fashion.” Glimmer comments, though there is no sarcasm or venom in her own tone. It’s a compliment, a genuine one, when she says, “you have a lovely voice, Katniss.”

“Peeta thought so too.” Katniss admits, finally making direct eye contact with the career girl for the first time. “It just..it wasn’t for everyone else.”

“Look at that, this government can exploit you, too. It’s not just the Capitol!” Glimmer snorts, shaking her head before glancing at Cato out of the side of her eye.

His jaw is locked, his knuckles nearly white from how tightly he is squeezing his fist together. Something in the conversation had successfully gotten to him, and while the source of all of his self control is locked in a cell in the captiol, he somehow manages to hold himself back for once.

“Katniss…let us talk. Alone. Finnick too.” Glimmer requests, glancing between the other two young victors in the room. There’s only four of them left, maybe only four left in the whole world for all they know.

Now is the time to make new alliances.

“Absolutely not.” President Coin interjects, shaking her head furiously. “The safety of Katniss is too important–”

“They won’t hurt us.” Finnick assures, giving a knowing nod to Glimmer and Cato both. There is an understanding, an agreement, amongst the victors. “Let us talk.”

Haymitch puts his hands up to prevent any further debate or questioning. “I say we give them ten minutes. We can wait right outside the door for them, come in the minute we hear a raised voice for something being thrown.”

“Ten minutes.” Plutarch agrees, and that seems to convince Alma Coin to eventually agree as well.

“You get exactly ten minutes. Nothing more.” She pushes herself back and the elder men at the table agree, shooting Glimmer and Cato a look of diluted venom, not quite a snake but maybe a scorpion instead.

The immediate second the door is closed, Glimmer lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t like her at all.”

For the first time ever, Katniss smiles at Glimmer, in a wordless agreement. Maybe the leader of the rebellion couldn’t say it, but the unhinged victim from District One certainly could.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” Cato immediately presses Katniss, the only victor who has seen beyond the perimeter of thirteen and into the real world. “Who’s fighting, is there an actual war happening?”

“All of the Districts have joined, except for District Two.” Katniss begins, oddly at ease with two of the people who were most determined to kill her. “Two provides the army, I guess–”

“Peacekeepers, yeah.” Cato agrees, giving an unsurprised nod. That was always the other option– you either went in the games and won or the high level of training guaranteed a higher rank in the peacekeepers upon graduation. There were the outliers, training partners who resented each other for not getting into the games, who married and tried to combine their mediocre genetics to create a victor child. That had not been successful, possibly ever, but every year there were one pair who tried it. “Two won’t be easy.”

“....even One is in the war? On our side” Glimmer pipes up, for the first time verbally acknowledging that yes, she is with the Mockingjay, too. “That’s a loss for the Capitol, they rely on us for..just about anything they enjoy.”

“It was you and Marvel, Glimmer.” Finnick reaches forward to grab at the remote, shuffling through additional propos as they talk, an audio buffer to protect their conversation from the inevitable listening ears just outside the door. “It had to be everything you said before the games. They had enough of sending their children to be trafficked. They’ve sent enough luxury goods, their sons and daughters aren't going to be added to the list of their hottest commodities anymore.”

“....do you know if Cash and Gloss are…”

“We don’t. But what we do know is that the Capitol is completely cut off from everyone but Two.” Katniss adds, looking between the two.

“You two need to see this.” Finnick interrupts, before he settles on a hidden file of a recording deep in the depths of a desktop folder . “They already think Katniss hasn’t, and I know they kept this from you two. You’re a liability when you’re angry.”

“What do you mean they’re keeping something from us, they keep everything from us, what else could it be-” Glimmer is cut off by her own gasp of shock, when the screen lights up with a scene in the President’s mansion. Peeta– looking far worse for the wear, fifteen pounds lighter than he had been just a week ago on the recording, with deep dark circles under his eyes– is flanked on either side by two other victors.

Their other victors.

Glimmer is on her feet first, a look of pure horror on her face as she reaches out to the screen to touch the ghost of Marvel’s face.

Like Peeta, he is easily fifteen pounds lighter than he had been when they were lifted from the arena. And though the collar of his shirt doesn’t seem to conceal bruises the way Peeta’s does, he looks overall limp. Lifeless. As if the fight has been sucked right out of him. Most notably to Glimmer, of course, is his eyes. The shining blue of his eyes lacks the joy and brightness she had come to find her home in, the one constant source of comfort ripped from them both.

“What did they do to him?” Glimmer whispers, frantically looking around the duration of the screen for any other clue. “Are they starving them? What are they doing to him?”

Clove does not look as distinctly ill to the untrained eye. Always small, the drop in weight is not as blatantly apparent on her. Sure, the darkness under her eyes is abnormal, but anyone would see it as a normal response to lack of sleep and stress. There is some purple discoloration at the top of her black dress, that may even be passed off as a shadow rather than bruising.

But when she slightly tilts her head to the side, Cato recognizes in an instant the way the corner of her lip twitches downward for the slightest moment. It was a tell, a tell only to someone who had spent the majority of his life pulling from her.

Pain.

Clove was never one to show it, not in the academy, not in the games, and surely not for the nation.

Cato, though, knew her tells and her secrets more than he knew his own.

“What the fuck did they do to her.” Cato pushes himself to a standing position immediately, his voice barely above a whisper. For all he can growl and scream, there's something almost more haunting about the way he whispers in this moment, like a man possessed. “Why the fuck did he touch her–”

“It’s a message to us,” Finnick has to explain, as Katniss locks her gaze on her feet and never at the screen. “They don’t say anything, Peeta does all the talking, but look at them. It’s a message, Cato. You’re here, you are guilty, and she is going to pay for it.”

Katniss does not look up, she can’t stomach to watch the violence that has occurred to Peeta yet again. Peeta, who has suffered for the crime of loving her, for the crime of being too good.

“I’m going to kill him.” Cato snarls, and though it isn’t said it is immediately understood who he means.

“You’re going to have to fight me for it.” Katniss chimes in, though she continues her lock on the floor while Cato and Glimmer keep their eyes locked on the screen.

“Why aren’t they speaking?” Glimmer half whimpers, unable to tear her eyes away from the remnants of her loved ones on the other side of the screen. “Why aren’t they saying anything!”

“Because Peeta’s the mouthpiece. Peeta is to the Capitol what Katniss is here. They started this rebellion, they have to represent it. They’re a message to you two, and you two only.”

“...has there been any sign of Annie? Or Johanna?” Glimmer tries, though her heart is with the dulled eyes of the man she loves on the screen.

The silence that follows provides the answer they needed, without ever needing to even be said.

“...I’m in.” Glimmer agrees in an instant, backing away but not breaking her gaze. “Whatever you need from me, I’m in.”

“We have to get them back.” Cato begins, though he has also moved to a standing position right in front of the tv. “I’m going to get her.” And though he’s made the threat before– and been shot down at the idea– the demand has new meanings. They need to get them and do it fast. “....I don’t know what I can say or do on these stupid videos. I have no big story. I don’t think I’m much help…”

He wants to argue, he wants to come up with an excuse as to why he’s no use, but he can’t. He’d do anything for that psychotic girl, walk to the ends of the earth for her, if it meant she was safe in his arms.

“Fuck it, I’m in.”

They never planned to die by being suffocated alive in the tomb that is the bowels of District 13 in a bunker, if they were dying it was in glory in the games or at their own hands on their own terms.

Cato, Glimmer, and Finnick were resolved to their own tiny corner, much like the lunch table, where none of the other citizens would dare come near them.

Cato sits on the floor, the heels of his hands digging so deeply into his eyes that it stung. If there were any light– which there is not– Glimmer would have been able to see the way he is digging into the skin of his hairline, like he wants to peel his skin from his skull.

It had been a nightmare to get him to agree to come under ground after the disastrous interview.

Peeta had been flying solo in an interview yet again, though Clove and Marvel must’ve been nearby. When whatever trance Peeta was in broke, he had warned them of their impending death, and the feed cut out as fast as the Capitol could manage.

Not fast enough, of course, to drown out the blood curdling scream in the background of Peeta’s broadcast. It would have been ambiguous enough, with no face to the name of an anonymous woman, until the single word she managed before the broadcast cut came across clear as day.

Cato.

Him. She was calling for him. Screaming for him, really, and here he was. Unable to get to her. Unable to help her.

“She called for me.” Cato repeats, over and over and over again, bordering a state of catatonia and hysteria as he refuses to get off the ground.

“I know.” Glimmer sighs, a half hearted agreement. There was nothing she could do, to ease his comfort. It was clear as day– Clove had screamed his name from deeper inside the President's mansion, and it was clearly a call of desperation.

Clove would kill her if she called it a cry for help, even if for all the world that is exactly how it sounded.

While it could have been a warning, like Peeta had given. A dead girl walking calling out in warning you too, Cato, he’ll kill you too. It could have been confirmation of what Peeta was saying.

No matter what her intention, it did not change all Cato could hear.

She had been his longest friend before she was his world, his longest ally, and they had always had each other’s backs. That was a plea rooted deeply in their childhoods, deeply in the core of who they are.

That was not a cry of a desperate girl, that was not the scream for her lover. That was a scream and cry for her partner, the one person in two she was supposed to be able to rely on to be there if she got in too deep of trouble.

And he failed her.

Not as her life long best friend, or as the man who married her.

He failed her as her partner.

He is only pulled from his self effacing spiral by the feeling of something soft brushing against his calves.

He nearly flinches when he realizes it is the tail of a soft little animal against his legs, and not some sneak attack.

A purring noise immediately betrays the creature as Katniss’s sister’s cat, the only pet in all of thirteen. The little thing didn’t like Katniss and so it already earned a bonus point in Cato’s book, and he thinks of his own little sister every time he sees the little blonde that belongs to the girl on fire. He gives the cat a half-hearted pet, remembering how desperately his sister had begged their parents for a cat for her fourth birthday, and how he nearly bought her one with his winnings a few years prior.

He lets himself think of the dog he and Clove will never get to have and begins to give the cat a more diligent pet in honor of the future they have lost.

He failed her. He failed her. He failed her.

He’s lost her.

The four of them, the surviving, youngest victors, are led above ground before anyone else is given clearance. It of course had to be deemed safe before they let precious Katniss Everdeen step foot above ground.

“What the fuck.” Is the first thing Cato thinks to say, when he takes in the surrounding destruction. Where as he had expected the smoke and ash, nothing could have prepared him for the blanket of white that littered the smoking land. For a second he wonders if it is snow, if somehow a nuclear winter has fallen upon them, but the warmth of the air pushes that idea right out of his head. He’s acutely aware of the team of videographers focused in on Katniss, priming and prodding her to make some statement about surviving an attack by the capitol.

There is a soft crunching under his foot, and when he sees the slightly luminescent spray of white rose petals under his heels, he realizes (though he does not understand) that they are walking in a sea of white roses. He is about to pick one up, to run the unnatural petals between his fingers, but he is immediately startled by the panic coming from Katniss just over the rocks.

“He’s going to Kill Peeta. I can’t do this–”

Cato steps forward, over the edge of the rocks to catch a glimpse of Katniss, as she slowly starts to unravel before the cameras.

There is a woman with a half shaved head with a camera in the girl’s face, prodding and poking at her to brag about the survival of the center of the rebellion against a direct attack from the Capitol, but Katniss is fading fast at their insistence.

“He’s going to kill him, because I’m the Mockingjay. I can’t do it.” Katniss utters as she staggers away, trying to avoid the cameras shoved in her face and their persistence.

Haymitch Abernathy takes her by the shoulders, and leads her out of the way of the Camera, but it isn’t enough for Cato.

Because if they’re going to kill Peeta, they’re going to kill Clove too.

He pushes the camera out of the woman’s hands, not enough to break but enough to be indisposed just for a little while.

“She isn’t fucking doing it,” Cato reaffirms, hand still resting on the camera equipment, not breaking it but not opposed to doing so.

Finnick leads the camera crew away before Cato can make any permanent damage to the equipment or the war effort.

–

“Why the fuck didn’t you let me go, I’ve been threatening to go for months and you left us behind!” Cato pushes firmly in the middle of Haymitch Abernathy’s chest, cornering him into the wall. “I should be there! It’s my fucking job, she’s mine.”

“You couldn’t be trusted not to go off on your own, Cato.” Haymitch explains, gently placing his hands on the young man’s shoulders. “It was impromptu, there wasn’t time to get you properly trained.”

“Properly Trained? I gave my entire life to training for this! I know what i’m doing–” He snarls at the older victor, and without Enobaria and Brutus here to cool him off he might just carry through on his most intrusive of thoughts, the ones that say to crush the man’s skull against the concrete wall. “I’m better trained than anyone in this hell hole.”

“You aren’t reliable. You’ll throw the whole mission to get to that girl, they couldn’t risk it.”

“Let me make something so incredibly clear. I will throw any mission, I would throw this entire district, I would let this rebellion burn to the ground if it meant getting to her. I do not give a single fuck about any other person in this entire district, but her.” Cato drops his grip on Haymitch, letting the man relax against the wall. “If they leave her behind, I am going to kill every single one of them. That’s a promise, Haymitch. I don’t need a sword or a knife or a gun or a fork. I will kill them.”

“That's exactly the problem, Cato”

“What is he doing..” Glimmer whispers, wiggling her thumbnail between her bottom front teeth. Her nails bleed from her biting to the quick, watching as Finnick commands the attention of the camera and the media screen behind them.

“It’s to distract while they’re in the training center,” Someone, Glimmer doesn’t care who, informs her.

Listening to his words, with his allusions and language with only insinuation, she wipes the blood of her fingers on the sad gray of her clothes, and steps forward.

“Put me on.”

Beetee quirks his head at her, and Plutarch gives her an unsure look, not quite trusting she knew what she was offering to do.

“Finnick has it.” Plutarch assures with a patronizing half smile, before redirecting his attention to Finnick and the broadcast going out to all of Panem.

“We were told to do our part, this is mine. Put me on.” Glimmer once again insists, this time walking herself right into the eyesight of the camera.

They cannot stop her when she steps in directly next to Finnick, as he recalls stories of secrets shared as late night pillow talk, as the exchange for his service.

“Stop sugar coating it.” Glimmer demands, stepping into the light of the camera.

The girl presented to Panem is a far cry from the beautiful bombshell of a victor she was once paraded around as. Once perfectly manicured nails bleed from the quick she had bitten them too. Once perfectly shiny, bouncing curls fall in two half braided pigtails, with crinkled waves going the length of her hair, frizzy ringlet curls framing her eyes. There is no perfectly winged eyeliner, eyelash extensions, or expertly applied blush.

She is not a shimmering shining prize, but she is still Glimmer.

“Finnick is so considerate as to give you a filtered version of what happened to us. I’m not. We weren’t just ‘sold’ to the highest bidder. I was brutally, violently raped. From the time I was fifteen years old. I have been held down until I screamed, and I have bled and begged people to stop. My sister, my brother, Finnick, Marvel..and countless others. We are not being rented, we are being violently abused. There is a trafficking ring of Victors. Starting from our childhood. I was fifteen. Fifteen years old! Finnick was Fourteen! We were children!” Glimmer catches Katniss out of the corner of her eye, who has a whole new layer of horror painted on her features. Katniss nods at her, to keep going, because if she is enraptured so is the entirety of the capitol.

“It doesn’t stop there! My entire life has been this. I’ve been sent to procedures where I don’t even know what they did to me! I’ve been drugged unconscious for days! I have sat in bath tubs full of my own blood, and woken up in sheets so wet with it that I couldn’t stand the next day! We lose our childhood to the games, but we lose our innocence to them! Seven years. Seven years of horrific abuse, and if I didn’t? Then my parents die. Then my older sister and brother, who already did all of this to protect me. They go after the people you love. Call this what it is. It is violence and it is abuse.”

Together, Glimmer and Finnick offer a passionate plea.

Finnick exposes name after name of a capitol official and bought him, listing the secrets of each and every one. Between stories Glimmer accounts graphic details of a girlhood lost, of specific moments of begging for death after fighting so hard for her life. Finnick exposes the President himself and his history of poisonous treachery, while Glimmer recounts the long nights and the aftermath of such horrific, harrowing moments of her young life.

Ultimately they lose the broadcast until Katniss steps in and directly asks for the President himself.

Glimmer steps out of the light, and realizes for the first time that she has tears running down her face, uncontrollable and unstopping.

Cato can’t help it, when he grabs her and pulls her in what could pass for a hug. He’s seen Glimmer as, well, Glimmer, for a long time. A career victor from One who had gone through a little too much at the hands of the capitol. Something about her now, though, goes deeper than that. She is someone’s little sister, someone’s little blonde sister who was robbed of the sweetness his own was so remarkable for. He is all too aware that he may never see his own again.

She is a brotherless sister and he is a sisterless brother, who would give just about anything to make sure his little blonde baby sister never even knew the kind of horrors Glimmer experienced even existed.

He watches over Glimmer’s head, as Katniss pleads her case to the president directly.

“You asked me to convince you I was in love with Peeta. Haven’t I at least done that?” Katniss questions, and there is an earnestness in her voice that even Cato cannot ignore.

Maybe she had convinced them all.

The next words Cato picks up on send a chill to the very root of his spine.

“Don’t you think I know your friends are in the tribute center? Cut them off.”

If his blood could run cold, it would have. As the feed cuts out, and Katniss begins to spiral- “He was taunting me, he knew the whole time!”-- and the reality starts to come from Beetee– “we can’t communicate with them” it all falls into place. The seemingly unbroken communication, the opportunity to plead directly with the president of the country..it all made more sense as reality set in.

It was a trap.

They were never getting them out.

“They’re dead.” Glimmer whispers, pushing him back and turning to face the screen. Her sob catches in her throat before she even realizes it is coming. “They’re dead, we aren’t ever getting them back!”

The four of them are corralled into a single, padded, locked room on the same level of the command center using various levels of sedatives.

Hours pass, maybe. They can’t be sure, in their windowless room, with some drug coursing through their system.

Finnick rocks and ties his knots, and Katniss has gone catatonic, resting her chin on her knees, humming that creepy death song from the propo she filmed what seemed like ages ago.

Glimmer lays against a wall, tears freely flowing from her eyes, matching the level of helpless she feels deep in the core of who she is.

Cato paces. Whatever they calmed them down with has started to wear off in him, based on his sheer size alone.

“When did you know you loved Annie?” Katniss nearly whispers to Finnick, voice and face flat in affect. “Was it immediate?”

“No. It was gradual. She snuck up on me.” Finnick nearly smiles, but then passes the question on to Glimmer. “What about you? When did you know?”

“We were friends for a long long time at first. I would sleep in his room a lot. Nothing ever happened and then..well It was actually during Clove’s games. I looked at him one morning and I realized that I wasn’t afraid when I was with him. He was right there, right in front of me the whole time.” Glimmer nearly smiles, but the tears do not stop. “Come on Cato, like we weren’t all there.”

Cato stops, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand for a moment. “We uh..we were fifteen. We trained together since we were ten, you know? She was at my house with my baby sister and I realized that I knew exactly how many freckles she had on her face. One hundred and forty seven. That isn’t a normal thing that you notice about someone.”

There is a soft silence that befalls them, as if it hits them at once that they are giving eulogies to the love they have lost.

“....It was on the beach in the Quell. That's when I really knew.” Katniss offers without prompting, the softness in her voice confirming what they had slowly grown to accept.

Somewhere along the line- during the quell, apparently– life began to imitate the art of the star crossed lovers' performance.

Time passes slowly in thirteen.

How long exactly, none of them know.

The door swings opens without so much as a knock, and Haymitch lets himself into the room of sedated, miserable victors, before he announces:

“They’re back.”

#clato #cato and clove fanfic #clato fanfiction #thg fanfic #thg au #ARWBFB TAG #always remember we're burned for better tag #glimmer and cato are bonding #trauma bonding besties #its almost time for..the reunitings

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aquanova99 · 9 months

Note

Can I ask for headcannons with Cato x reader? Like the reader is really shy and usually sweet but if you mess with someone she (or they if you only do gender neutral) cares about she/they get fierce and will do whatever it takes to make sure that person is taken care of? If not it’s totally ok, take care of yourself!

This would have to take place in an AU where he wins the games. So we’ll say he won the 73rd hunger games. Sorry but he is simply not paying attention to anyone before then

He sees you at the training center at first he overlooks your score, it’s high but you aren’t really standing out so far.

Then another one of the the older tributes picks a fight with the younger kids and he sees you lose it

You completely ruin the older kids day, someone bigger and stronger by all other means. Still, you’re smart and you know exactly how to win against someone like him

You’re not supposed to fight outside of the training practices but it happens often in district 2 so you aren’t surprised when an old victor comes and breaks you two up

Cato is standing back watching it all unfold and sees you turn around as if nothing happened and check on the younger kid who got picked on

He decides to keep a closer eye on you after that and kinda hopes this next hunger game passes you by

He’d like to get to know you without worrying about cameras

He gets his wish when Clove and another tribute are chosen

He watches you and notices you seem to simply shrug it off and begin packing your stuff now that you’re done.

“Would you like help?”

Sure…seems sudden but why would you say no be fr

He is painfully bad at small talk but bless him he’s trying his best, when you’re all done you tell him to find you if he ever wants to hang out

He most absolutely makes it a point to see you whenever he can. Because he’s a pretty young mentor he can only watch most of the time so whenever he isn’t watching the games back with the other victors he’s hanging out with you

It helps to get his mind off the games and you balance him out

He won’t say it but he isn’t happy watching the tributes from 2 die, so he just continues spending even more time to get his mind off of things. And he appreciates that you’re there for him

It would take a long time for him to admit he had feelings for you and you will probably have to initiate it tbh but he is definitely overprotective boyfriend ™️

You are his top priority and when things with Katniss start going down his goal is to make sure you’re safe. If you agree with the rebels he is going to stress but he will likely see your point of view, so he’ll work with Lyme to get district 2 on board

He’s happy when everything is said and done because as the two of you get older he won’t have to worry about your kids being taken from you or growing up without a childhood because of any kind of training for the games

#aquas asks #hunger games imagine #hunger games cato imagine

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militantinremission · 2 years

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Are Ye & Kyrie really Anti- Semitic?

I have been following the turmoil over Ye & Kyrie Irving. Both R being accused of making Anti- Semitic statements, but did they? Ye said that he was going 'Def Com 3 on Jewish People', then elaborated on how Jewish Execs in Music & Media manipulate ADOS/ Black American Culture. Kyrie Irving posted a link 2 the 'From Hebrews to Negroes' book & documentary- sold on Amazon. The Media fallout suggests that Ye & Kyrie were plotting violence against Jewish people, but in reality, both were speaking on the 'Semitic' Roots of Blackfolk. 30Yrs ago, this wasn't an argument; why is it an issue now?

I remember a scene in Howard Stern's 'Private Parts', where his mother reminded him that he was 'half Black'. This wasn't refuted; in fact, it was socially accepted back then. The hoopla surrounding Ye & Kyrie is really stemming from the notion that Blackfolk identify w/ 'Semitic Tribes'. Kyrie's argument, is that he cannot B Anti- Semitic, because he IS Semitic. Ye makes a similar claim. Jewish Rabbis R lining up 2 take both men 2 Yeshiva, like Nick Cannon. Unlike Nick, Ye & Kyrie appear 2 B 'Standing on their Square'. Both have lost endorsements, but remain steadfast.

I find it curious how The Powers That B have done exactly what Ye says they always do, but No One is talking about that. The Man literally forecasted WHAT would B done 2 him, & WHO would do it. Blackfolk in particular have been pretty quick 2 denounce Ye. They cannot refute his claims, so they focus on comments he made about George Floyd. It turns out that Ye was quoting a documentary put out by 'The Daily Wire', but NO ONE is calling them out. Meanwhile, European Jews that agree w/ Ye have been largely silent. Blackfolk can learn a thing or 2 about solidarity from The Jewish Community.

It's odd 2 see Mainstream Media paint Black Men as Toxic Masculine, Anti- Asian, Anti- Semitic, Homophobic, Identity Extremists; while in reality, Black Men R the biggest victims of Hate Crimes in America. No Group can point 2 a Period in Time, where they were subjected 2 Black American Hegemony; however, EVERY GROUP waits in line 4 their opportunity 2 profit from ADOS/ Black American Oppression. It's The American Way. The claims of Anti- Semitism levied on Black Men is almost comical. ADOS/ Black America could easily make claims of Anti- Black Racism against those making claims of Anti- Semitism.

I remember the Black American Museum in Alabama that was forced 2 retract an invitation 2 Alabama Native, Angela Davis, because Jewish Board Members didn't want her there. Jerry Heller, Lyor Cohen, & Jimmy Iovine ushered in the Era of Gangsta Rap, & prohibited Artists from creating songs that were more inspirational than destructive. This music wasn't meant 4 Us, it's 4 Suburban White Kids 2 fantasize about 'Black Ghetto Life'. Meanwhile, Blackfolk didn't refer 2 their neighborhoods as Ghettos & Slums before Daniel Patrick Moynihan & Norman Lear. The 'Ghettos', were in Eastern Europe- Warsaw, Poland comes 2 mind. Blackfolk didn't know about Ghettos & Slums, until White Politicians & Jewish Landlords created them.

Before this Period, Black & Jewish Communities shared a degree of solidarity. Blackfolk fought against Anti- Semitic sentiment leveled @ Eastern European Immigrants. Jewish Musicians like Benny Goodman integrated their Orchestras. ADOS/ Black American Soldiers helped liberate Nazi Concentration Camps. Jewish Managers & Agents booked Black Performers, & lent support during The Civil Rights Movement. Jewish Merchants in Black Neighborhoods hired locally, & maintained great relations w/ their customers... Things began 2 change after 1970.

Any unrest between the Black & European Jewish Community can probably B traced back 2 August 1991 in Crown Heights, Brooklyn & the deaths of Gavin Cato & Yankel Rosenbaum. 7Yr Old Gavin was the victim of a hit & run incident during an Orthodox Chabad Motorcade, where the assailant, Yosef Lifsh fled 2 Israel. The Black Community's outrage over the incident led 2 the death of Yankel Rosenbaum, a visiting Rabbinical Student. Since then, the narrative of Blackfolk practicing Anti- Semitism has grown over the years. Many of these incidents were 'Crimes of Convenience'. European Jews have a stereotype of carrying valuables & putting up little 2 no fight- The perfect 'Vic'.

What is insulting about this narrative, is how the Black Community is being collectively compared w/ Neo Nazis, over the actions of a few Criminal Opportunists. We collectively cannot eat off of their efforts. Meanwhile, European Jews in The Entertainment Industry produce & distribute horrible depictions of Black Life, that R rarely true, but culturally damaging 2 Our Community on a global scale. We single out those individuals. We do not generalize that All European Jews behave this way; even though their Collective Community eats well off of their efforts.

I understand that a 'Program' is in operation. The Subharmonic Frequencies, Visual Imagery, & Post Hypnotic Suggestions that We have been bombarded w/ over the last 30Yrs should have reduced Us 2 functionally illiterate 'Super Predators' & Sexual Deviants. About 1/3 of Us still have Knowledge Of Self. We remember how Our Ancestors taught The Khazarians Judaism back in the 8th Century. We remember the Black Orthodox Jews in Poland, who were also victims of Nazism. We remember the Black Jews of Spain (Hebrew Israelites) that sailed w/ Columbus, Cortez, & Pizzaro. We know about the discovery of Ancient Hebrew Writings (Phoenician/ Paleo- Hebrew Script) in Indigenous/ American Indian territories... We also remember European Jews like the Lehman Brothers, who built their wealth off of Slave Labor.

The Mainstream Media can play semantics w/ what Ye & Kyrie Irving actually said, but all anyone has 2 do, is listen 4 themselves. Neither of these Brothers should B silenced. The Real Issue, is that both Men identify as Semites. I'm confounded, because The Israelis already performed a genealogy of their Citizens, & NONE of the European Jews descend from the 12 Tribes. That said, Palestinians, Black Israelis, Yemenis, Ethiopians, Kenyans, Nigerians, Ghanaians, Angolans, West Indians, Afro Latinos, & ADOS/ Black Americans have been identified as descendants. Our Scholars have been telling Us this 4 decades.

It's not hard 2 fathom what 'The Powers That B' intend. Black Men R not just The Face of Criminal Behavior; now we're The Face of Anti- Asian Hate, Anti- Semitism, & Homophobia. As a Collective, ADOS/ Black Men R being shut out of Education, Trade Unions, & jobs that guarantee a Living Wage. What's open, is Sports, Entertainment, & Unskilled Labor; occupations that include a growing # of immigrants. No One is feeling sorry 4 Us- we're portrayed as Animals. The # of Black Men killed by Police Officers after George Floyd only proves that Black Lives Don't [Really] Matter. FBI Hate Crime Stats say that there should B an Anti- Black Hate Crime Law, but we're the only Group w/o [Meaningful] Hate Crime Legislation.

-It's Time 2 Collectively Stand on Our Square.

#MediaBuckBreaking #WarriorsRise #Maat #B1

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twobraincellkentwell · 4 months

Text

Edge Of Seventeen

[A Game Of False Fates]

Part One

Series Masterlist Part Two

Summary: Clio's first year as a mentor was always supposed to be easy; lapping up attention in the Capitol and learning the ropes of securing sponsorships. She was never supposed to be helping her sister through the ins and outs of the arena, but what's done is done. She'll just have to make sure the nation is ready for their second Kentwell sister in succession.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Not really any warnings relevant for this chapter. Maybe the threat of stabbing?

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hello hello, I've finally got around the posting the first chapter of book 2, which is technically a prequel but I prefer my order because I just love building suspense. Friendly reminder that this is a Cato fic so obviously I'm not going to be subjecting my mans to the dogs (I'm not that cruel), and so the name of the male tribute is completely made up but also somewhat developed (you'll see ;) )

Second reminder to read book one (A Game Called Revenge) first for the intended order.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

3rd of April 74PD

"The tributes representing District Two in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games are..." The district mayor says slowly, watching as every academy member hangs on his every word and the parents of the potential tributes each wait impatiently for the decision. "Ebony Stein and Ajax Dumont."

Cheers fill the square as the chosen volunteers walk to the front of the plaza to shake hands with the mayor after he pats them both on the back. Ebony looks confused, the seventeen year old failing to hide the bewilderment of being selected on her face as she looks between the line of twenty girls and the automated scoreboard above her. In each of her trials, the young girl has placed second and the board providing a summary of the trials also has her sitting in second, only behind the fifteen year old Clove Kentwell. The same fifteen year old who is staring daggers into Ebony's head as she takes in the praise she is surrounded with. Ajax, on the other hand is smiling ear to ear and his father can be seen with his hands in the air celebratorily. The young children in the temporarily erected stands are clapping for their volunteers whilst the mayor speaks about the two tributes who have the potential to bring the victory home from District Two for the third year running. No one mentions the scoreboards whilst the two tributes choose their mentors for their last three months of training. To no one's surprise, Ajax chooses Brutus but doesn't fail to mention that he wants Cato to help him and Ebony chooses Enobaria. The expressions worn on the line of the unselected make it evident that this year, as with every other year in the past twenty, someone will try to take out the volunteers so that they can be replaced. "You may return to your homes, the Academy will remain open for those of you who live in the outskirts of the district but I encourage you to spend time with your families if you can."

As the lines file out, Clio watches out of the corner of her eye as her sister stands to the side of the plaza to wait for her and after excusing herself from the various district officials, she approaches. "Clove..."

"I placed first!" She declares in frustration, one hand pointing harshly in the direction of the scoreboard. "I thought you and Enobaria wanted me to continue what you started."

"Of course we do, but it's not always the worst thing to wait another year. Trust me, Enobaria always overrides the scoreboard for a reason."

Clove rolls her eyes as she retorts, "but I'm not in love with Ajax so it's not like it matters to me who I volunteer alongside."

"Ajax has been waiting to volunteer for three years." Clio reminds her, hoping that making a demonstration of the boy's patience will help her sister snap out of her anger; she hopes that refreshing Clove's memory of the fuss the boy kicked up when he wasn't chosen last year will help her realise that having to wait isn't the end of the world. But she also understands how she is feeling, remembering back to two years ago when she threw heated words at Enobaria after the mentors decided to switch up the partnerships and send Cato into the arena with Thalia instead of her. Several of the other girls and boys who weren't selected stand beside them, clustered in small groups and surrounded by family.

"Clio, sweetie, I am so happy to see you," the Kentwell matriarch muses as approaches, her voice warm and light. The woman is beautiful as always but both sisters can easily detect the coldness in her eyes as she tries to bring her eldest daughter into a hug. "You didn't come around on your birthday, you must still be too busy for little old me."

Her words, to the outsiders around them, seem lighthearted and teasing but Clio knows better. She was putting on a show to the other prominent families. The truth is, Clio hasn't spoken to either of her parents in the two months since her victory tour; only conversing with them once or twice since she returned from the arena, yet here she was casting the same old doubts that shrinks Clio back to the little girl would refuse to use up her homestay days at the academy or hiding in her childhood bedroom for afternoons at a time in hopes of not seeing her parents. "We have to go," Clio says as she looks into her mother's eyes. She wonders if she has ever loved her at all, or if she has always been just a means to receive glory and fame within the district and all of Panem.

"She's supposed to be sleeping at home tonight." Her mother addresses Clove indirectly, her lips tightening as her eyes bore into Clio's.

"We have to go." Clove repeats her sister's words, head barely turning in her mother's direction.

"She said that already." Their mother snaps as the façade falls from her face, turning her into the cold hearted bitch who raised two equally as stone cold girls with a thirst for blood and an innate need to prove themselves. She shrugs as if her daughters are inconveniencing her as she snaps her fingers to prompt them to answer.

Clove is the one to answer, watching carefully as her mother and older sister stare each other down. "We're going to go and train some more whilst the others head home. I'm going to stay at Clio's tonight but I'll have to come grab some of my clothes from my room."

"Well, don't let me stop you. Clio, darling, it would be nice if you could pay us a visit some time too."

Clio rolls her eyes as they walk the short distance to the training halls of the academy. Several of the younger children playing outside the building almost part like the sea to make room for Clio to walk through, as they have the past year. Being a victor has its perk, one of which is having access to the white cinder-block training facilities, and Clio leans towards the security system for it to scan her identity via the recognition of her retina. Flashing green, the magnet releases the heavy, stone door inside. The building is deserted as they walk through the corridors, an unnatural silence replacing the clang of weapons that are present on most days in the academy. They pass through the giant double doors hidden behind the stone staircase, leaving them to shut on their own behind them as the sisters walk straight into the top left hand corner of the centre; both scoffing at the large, professional portrait from her victory tour hanging on the wall. The gold foil of the crown reflects the lighting into the late afternoon as they each pick several blades from the rack beside the target. Without looking at the target, the two of them each throw a knife into the dummies opposite them, glancing over once they hear them hit the figures. Each landing dead centre, Clove's in the middle of the chest whereas Clio's hits the space between the eyebrows. Her signature. Clio's knife hit the target slightly earlier than her sister's but she isn't going to mention that. Not today.

"You didn't have to join me." Clio says. "I'm not going to be here long, I just needed to let out some of my anger after that conversation with our wonderful mother."

"I wanted to stay behind with you. There's no point going and speaking with Ebony yet. Now are we going to throw knives or just stand here?" Clove responds.

"I'd hate to show you up, but I suppose you could do with the practice." Clio smiles sarcastically when her sister rolls her eyes. She slings her knives at the target board. Each one they both throw hits the middle of their respective targets precisely.

"Hey!" The younger sister objects to Clio's words a few seconds after they sink in, turning towards her to ask her a question. "Instead of hogging my time, I want you to try and distract me while I throw."

Clio doesn't even blink at Clove's request. The two sisters have gone through the same routine every day for the past year because learning to ignore potential distraction is something Clove needs. Clio knows that behind the confident front her sister puts up, her emotions can sometimes leave her slightly off her game; which is a vital aspect of why Enobaria has decided that she needs another year of training before entering the arena. She'll be more than ready by the time the Quarter Quell rolls around. Following her sister's instruction, Clio walks to the side of the throwing station, standing to the left of the dummy that is Clove's target for the next hour, watching her sister launch the knives directly into the centre over and over again. Now in her line of sight, Clio removes the patched jacket from around her upper body and waves it in front of the target.

Clove's concentration wavers for just a moment, her brow furrowing as she registers the distraction. Clio continues to twirl the jacket, the bright red hues dancing through the air in a vibrant contrast to the monotonous black and white of the training room; as the atmosphere hums with the rhythmic swish of the knives and the dull thuds of them finding their mark on the dummies. Just as she raises another knife, poised for the next throw, Clio shouts a loud interjection. The sound catches Clove's attention just as she lets go of the knife, and the weapon hits to the right of the centre, causing Clove to curse.

"Hey, it would've still been more than enough for a kill." Clio reminds her when she recognises the scowl on her sister's face, moving to stand in front of the target and lifting her arms above her head, connecting her hands to make a gap for Clove to aim at. "Throw it again."

Clove throws the knife directly into the space between Clio's head and her hands, landing just centimetres above her ponytail pressed against the target. She knows that Clove would never throw the knife at her face. Her aim is far too good to actually kill her. And it's not like she wouldn't catch it anyway. Okay maybe I wouldn't catch it, Clio laughs to herself, but I'd at least I would see it coming and be able to move.

"Now come on," Clio laughs as she pulls the knife out from the space above head. "I've got a birthday meal to have."

Clove sighs but places the knives back on the weapons rack. "I better go and collect my stuff from mum and dad."

"I have stuff you can use." Clio nudges her sister as they leave the academy's training facility, trying to swerve them in the direction of Victor's Village.

"No offence, Clio." Clove starts with a laugh, "but the twelves could fit into your clothes. I'd much rather be comfortable in my own stuff."

Clio relents, allowing Clove to steer them back towards the road which leads them to their parent's house. The walk down the cobbled stone paths of the richer area of District Two's capital, past all the white stone houses and perfectly crafted gardens. Their neighbours stand at the corner of the street, waving enthusiastically to the sisters as they walk and causing Clio to have to craftily avoid conversation by quickly explaining that they're visiting their parents for a little while and promising to return if they're still speaking once they are finished. Satisfied with her answer, the neighbours allow them to continue down the street until the familiar sight of lavender that edges the border of her parent's land. They walk up the stone steps and push the door open slowly, careful not to slam or rattle the door frame so as not to anger their parents any more than necessary. The scent of pinewood candles fills their noses as they walk through the foyer and begin to head towards the staircase when a shout comes from the living room. "Clove!"

Clove steps backwards off the first stair and follows the sound of her dad's voice into the living room; Clio following a few paces behind. As they enter they find their parents relaxing on the couch whilst a trashy Capitol provided television programme plays in the background.

"Dad." Clove says. "What's up–"

"Clove Sevina Kentwell." Their father bellows her full name, still leaning against the couch with his arms stretched across the back. "I honestly cannot believe you. I can't believe that after everything we've talked about in the past year, you continue to disappoint us."

"I don't know what you're talking about, dad. I placed first in the trials, I'm not sure what else I could have done to have them pick me."

"Something is missing if the mentors don't think you're good enough to be selected. I thought we went over this?" Their dad's worse is hoarse and disgusted as he spits the words out, turning to look at his youngest daughter.

"I'm– I'm sorry, dad!" Clove stutters slightly under the scrutiny of her parents.

"Are you lazy, Clove? Tell me, are you lazy in training?"

"No!" The youngest Kentwell protests, "I try my hardest everyday, I thought that placing first would prove that."

"It did nothing but suggest that you won't ever be ready to volunteer. Your skills are slipping, don't think we didn't notice you were off on three of your throws. We left after that but I bet your performance with the spears was just as mediocre, worse probably. Have you even been attending your training?" Their father shouts whilst their mother nods her head in agreement, silently judging her daughter.

Clove sniffles, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill past her waterline and hoping that neither of her parents would catch her emotions and call her disgusting for having them. "I have, of course I have!"

"You're not good enough Clove, you need to do better!" Her mum voices her opinions for the first time. "You'll never be able to win if you can't convince them to let you volunteer."

"There must be something wrong with you if your own sister didn't give you the vote of confidence." Their dad hisses.

"There's nothing wrong with her." Clio snaps, making her parents turn their head to look at her standing in the door frame. "I don't have the power to make all the decisions. I only won last year, so my words don't carry much weight."

"Who do you think you're talking to?"

"I'm talking to the people who have done nothing but treat my sister like shit ever since I won. Forget me, I don't care what you've said to me but don't try telling her that I don't believe in her." Clio says, the calmness of her voice scaring her sister slightly. She reaches into the pocket of her jacket and throws a small bundle of bills onto the coffee table. "Take my money and lay off her."

"Treating her like shit?" The man scoffs. "We're trying to toughen her up. What do you think we've been doing your whole lives? It worked well enough with you, you're a victor right now because of everything we did to help you and so you have no right to speak to us that way."

Clio chuckles darkly as she looks up at the ceiling. "When I first started at the academy, all I ever wanted to do was make the two of you proud, but you know what? I'm fucking done now. This is exactly why I didn't bother coming to visit you on my birthday. Do you even have any idea how old we are?"

"I– Nine– no, eighteen." Her mother stammers.

"Seventeen yesterday, mother," Clio rolls her eyes. "And Clove is only fifteen."

"Fifteen is plenty old enough to become a victor." Their father chooses to ignore Clio's admission of their ages as he instead focuses on the topic of Finnick Odair's winning age yet again. As their father turns to face the television screen once more, Clio nudges her sister and motions for her to quickly escape the room so she can head upstairs and pack a bag with enough for a few nights stay in Victor's Village.

"You're supposed to love and care for us yet all you wish for is another victor. I'm not your child, I'm just a paycheck." Clio picks up the wad of cash from the coffee table, swatting away her father's hand as he tries to grab her wrist. To prevent her from removing her money no doubt. "I don't owe you anything, fuck you."

As she reaches the front door, Clove appears at the bottom of the stairs, with a small duffel bag in her hand; half zipped up and jumper sleeves spilling out over the sides. Ignoring her parents' shouts, Clio grabs her sister by the hand and pulls her out of the door and down the stone steps, through the lavender bushes and they run across the cobbled stone paths that lead them towards Victor's Village. Once they pass the dark, wrought iron gates at the bottom of the little village, they run down to the eleventh house in the cul-de-sac, immediately pushing open the door to Clio's new home. Inside, Clove heads straight upstairs to claim the large spare bedroom that she usually sleeps in by throwing her duffel bag onto the mattress whilst her older sister steps into her kitchen. There's a cinnamon roll with a candle placed on the middle of her kitchen island, and she laughs to herself before realising that everything has been put neatly away and that her sister hasn't joined her in the kitchen. A small shuffling noise from the direction of the living room catches her attention and she instinctively pulls out her knife from the heel of her boots, poising herself for an attack if necessary.

Slowly she walks out of her kitchen and through the open frame leading her towards the sofa. The room is in complete darkness but before she can flick the lights on, a chorus of voices call out "surprise!"

The dagger in her left hand flies across the room, embedding itself into the stone wall at the far end of the living room, and then the lights flash on and she is greeted by several familiar faces who finally pop out from around the room. Cato, Clove, Brutus, Enobaria as well as Cato's mum and sister gather around the couch, each with a bright smile. Clio can see there are two huge balloons shaped 17 and red and gold party streamers adorn the book shelves and walls.

"I told you this would happen." Clove laughs, running to engulf her sister in a hug. "Never try and surprise Clio."

"We're just lucky we didn't stand up any earlier." Brutus chuckles, waving away the little concern in the room.

"Did you organise all of this?" Clio narrows her eyes jokingly at Cato once she realises what is going on.

"I had five helpers but most of it was me." He replies, walking to her side and allowing her to wrap her arms around him. "It's not big and I wanted to do this yesterday." He directs a glare at Enobaria. "But I promise that we'll go all out next year for eighteen."

"How did you manage to not tell me about this? You tell me everything." Clio sighs in disbelief, shaking her head before looking up to meet his eyes. "How long have you had this up your sleeve?"

"Hardest two weeks of my life." He teases, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Don't forget that they kept it from you too."

"You're all amazing. I don't know how all of you kept me in the dark for that long." Clio compliments, for once feeding their egos and thinking to herself about how they better savour this moment because compliments from her don't come often. "But what's so special about seventeen?"

"It's your first birthday as a victor." Enobaria explains, appearing from behind Clio and pulling her away from Cato and into her own hug. "It's the first year since I chose you that you actually have more birthdays guaranteed."

"Oh, I was always going to win." Clio laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Enobaria shakes her head but a small laugh escapes her lips as she squeezes Clio a little tighter for a second before letting her leave her grasp and turn back to the others. Clio gives everyone in the room a short hug, thanking them all again before she approaches Cato again. "Seriously, is all this because it's my first victor's birthday? You had yours in the Capitol, didn't you?"

He nods. "I did but I thought you'd much prefer to share a cinnamon roll with your sister than be surrounded by all those people again. Besides, we've spent the last ten years watching the tribute trials on your birthday, and then competing in them so it's not like we could just leave to party, unfortunately."

"I'm not sharing the cinnamon roll." Clio protests quickly before agreeing with him. "You're right, I would. I think I can get over my celebrations being a day late if they're always like this."

Part Two

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mrspeetamellark · 2 years

Text

Mockingjay MC

An Everlark Motorcycle Club Drabble

Katniss tugged on the hem of her skimpy leather skirt, attempting to lengthen it so she could maintain some level of modesty. She glanced down at the black fishnet tights and stripper heels she wore and grimaced, hating how cheap she looked and felt.

I look like a whore. Unfortunately, that’s not too far from the truth. It’s not like I have any other options, though. It’s this or starve to death, and I’ll do anything to stay alive, for Prim.

After her father’s death and her mother’s unexpected departure, Katniss had yet to find a way to make a living for herself. Her mother was a junkie who had abandoned her and Prim in the throes of grief, leaving Katniss as the only person left to put food on the table.

Prim was barely eighteen, and was in medical school on a full scholarship, so she was taken care of, however Katniss had no way to support herself after having been let go from multiple jobs.

At least Prim is doing well. As long as she has what she needs, I really don’t care what happens to me.

After Katniss was evicted from her sad excuse of an apartment, her next door neighbor Johanna suggested an opportunity that could help her out temporarily, while she got back on her feet.

“It’s called the Mockingjay MC,” Johanna told her. “They’re a one-percenter motorcycle club that owns several local businesses, both legit and illegal in nature. They’re looking for a few new club girls to help out around the house, taking care of chores and… whatever else the members might need, if you catch my meaning. I was a club girl for a couple of years myself, back in my twenties. They’ll give you a place to live, food to eat, and a small stipend if you’re willing to do what they ask. If you go there, though, make sure you dress the part. Otherwise they’ll laugh in your face. Oh, and ask for Peeta. He’s the President.”

Katniss hadn’t wanted to resort to what was essentially prostitution, but after living in an alley in the dead of winter for a week, she had finally given in. She used her last $20 bill at the local Goodwill, thumbing through the clothing racks until she found what Johanna called ‘biker chick’ apparel.

The black corset dug into her ribs and barely allowed her to breathe, but she was willing to do just about anything for free room and board. Johanna had helped her with hair and makeup, and after a long pep talk, dropped her on the doorstep of the Mockingjay MC clubhouse.

As she stared up at the heavy wooden door outside the club’s headquarters , she anxiously took a deep breath before knocking twice.

Here goes nothing. If they don’t take me in, I’ll be stuck living on the streets.

The door opened with a bang, and Katniss gulped nervously as she took in the behemoth of a man before her. He wore some type of leather vest, and his long blonde hair and grizzly beard made him look like a Viking warrior. His blue eyes sparkled as he gave her a long, lecherous once-over, and though it took him a few seconds, he eventually addressed her.

“Are you the new sweetbutt?” the man asked.

“The new what?” Katniss exclaimed in confusion.

“Club girl, sweetbutt, club slut. It’s all the same, really. Call yourself whatever you like. Don’t matter to me as long as you get on your knees on command, darling,” he said with an evil grin.

Her mouth dropped open in shock, and she was two seconds away from running when she heard another voice.

“Leave her the fuck alone, Cato! Let her get through the door before you start harassing her,” her savior said.

Katniss peered around Cato’s imposing figure and stared in awe at the handsome, rugged man walking towards her. Like Cato, he had long, blonde hair, but he was clean-shaven, and his leather vest held a patch on the front that read “President”. He had kind, blue eyes and a smile that reassured her, despite his rough exterior.

This must be the ‘Peeta’ Johanna mentioned.

“Sorry, Prez,” Cato replied sheepishly. “I’ve been waiting awhile for some fresh meat. The washed out hags that hang out here just aren’t doing it for me anymore.”

The man Cato called “Prez” glared at him and replied, “Don’t you ever talk about our club girls like that again. They’re loyal women who take care of us, feed us, and keep us alive.”

Then, after giving Katniss an appraising look, he added, “But this one here ain’t a club girl. This one’s mine; I’m claiming her. And no one talks to the President’s old lady with anything other than respect, you piece of shit.”

And then, he punched Cato straight in the jaw.

#biker!peeta #club girl!katniss #everlark drabble #motorcycle au #everlark fanfic #mrspeetamellark writes #edit by mrspeetamellark #edit by me #everlark #the hunger games

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jlalafics · 3 years

Text

"The Long Weekend"-Part One

Happy belated birthday @keelaree!

Hope you enjoy this first part. Thank you for being such a wonderful part of my writing life, and an even better friend. Can't wait till we can reunite in SF, so we can tea time together and eat soup dumplings.

Love you!

Summary: Two assistants who barely tolerate each other. One snowy cabin. One very long weekend.

Oh, and one bed.

-----

“I’m making the turn now, Haymitch,” Peeta told his boss as he navigated the icy road. “Should have everything prepped and ready by the time you and Effie arrive.”

“Thanks,” Haymitch replied over the speakerphone. “I should tell you that I did ask for someone to help you out. Someone who knows Effie better than I do sometimes—”

Peeta slowed his car as he spotted the cozy cabin in front of him. However, he grimaced seeing the red Jeep already parked on its side.

“You didn’t.”

“Peeta, Katniss knows Effie very well,” his boss said calmly. “Just like you know me. I know that you two don’t get along—”

“Understatement of the year,” Peeta replied as he parked roughly.

“This is important. I’m proposing to Effie and I want it to be perfect,” Haymitch explained. “Katniss knows all the foods she likes to eat, and how to decorate the place to make it comfortable yet romantic. Effie and I are finishing up our meeting with Mr. Snow then we’ll be making our way up to the cabin for the holiday weekend. I’ll call you when we’re on our way so you and Katniss can take off—that is if you haven’t murdered one another by then.”

“I’m only doing this because I’m your assistant,” he called out.

“You could at least like me!” Haymitch joked. “I pay you an obscene amount for an assistant.”

“Katniss probably gets paid more.”

“Well, she picks up tampons for Effie without being asked so probably.”

“Everything will be ready by the time you get here,” Peeta promised. “And I’m doing this because I like and respect you.”

“Thank you, Peeta. Call you soon.”

++++++

Peeta Mellark sighed as he stepped out of his car, bags in hand. The snowy wind picked up and he wrapped his parka tighter around himself before rushing up to the porch. It was getting worse up here, and he hoped that the soon-to-be engaged couple would make it safely.

Getting out the key that Haymitch lent him, Peeta unlocked the door and quickly stepped in to keep the cold air from entering with him.

“Oh, you’re finally here.” Katniss Everdeen sailed into the room, placing a charcuterie board on the coffee table in the center of the sitting room. “I thought you died or something.”

Peeta gave her a wry smile, placing the bags on the floor before shaking off his parka and hanging it on the hook by the door.

“Thought or hoped?” He searched his bag before pulling out the champagne that Haymitch asked along with the two glasses. Going to the table, Peeta placed them on the table before going back to the bag for the champagne bucket. “Is there ice?”

“The fridge has an ice machine,” Katniss informed him tersely, nodding her head towards the left. “I’ve already gotten their dinner started.”

“Not surprised.” Peeta walked into the kitchen, heading to the stainless-steel fridge. “You’re so anal that you’ve probably carved those little radish flowers for garnish.”

“They’re in the fridge so they’ll be fresh.”

Peeta wasn’t sure why they didn’t get along.

For one, Katniss was admittedly attractive with her long dark, and almond-shaped grey eyes. The first time he saw his stomach had definitely done a little flip. She had been walking alongside Effie, notebook in hand, wearing a fitted black dress with a peter pan collar and paying scant attention to anything else around her.

She literally knocked him to the ground.

Katniss had apologized, holding out her hand to help him up.

And Peeta had fucking tingled at her touch.

Over the next few days as he learned the ropes of being Haymitch Abernathy’s assistant, Peeta noticed her across the hall. Effie Trinket’s office was directly adjacent to his boss’ and Katniss’ desk was in the same spot as his.

She kept her head down, never acknowledging him, so wrapped up in her work or answering her phone.

So, Peeta asked around.

“She’s an ice queen,” Cato, who was in Marketing, informed him. “Never wants to hang out with anyone or even join in during happy hour. It’s important here to form relationships with everyone. Panem Industries is all about workplace harmony and Katniss embodies none of that.”

“Yeah, she’s snooty, too,” Clove from IT added. “I once asked her something about her family and she replied that it was none of my business. Like I was just trying to get to know her!”

“Wow. I guess if Katniss is that much of a head case, then I shouldn’t bother to ask her for help,” he told the two.

After that, during any interaction, she treated him indifferently…cold even. Peeta couldn’t help but be disappointed that Cato and Clove’s words were true.

And that was the end of his fascination with Katniss Everdeen.

“You want to get out here and help me or was the ice machine too hard for you to maneuver?” Katniss suddenly called out.

Peeta quickly filled the bucket and stepped out.

Katniss was bent over the couch, arranging the pillows, and he felt a heat rush through his skin.

There was also the slight twinge in his crotch at seeing a firm apple-bottom in tight ski pants.

It seemed that Katniss Everdeen had a bigger effect on him than he realized.

++++++

Peeta Mellark had a huge effect on her.

Katniss struggled to keep the heat off her cheeks as she fixed the pillows that she bought for the cabin. Effie loved those cheesy sayings, so she went on Etsy and ordered custom-made pillows with her favorite quotes.

No one should spend so much time arranging pillows, but Katniss could feel his stare on her. It made her nervous…and tingly.

However, these feelings didn’t belong—especially in a work situation and she needed this job.

Taking a breath, Katniss turned…to find Peeta right behind her.

He jumped back, startled by her abrupt movements.

Whoa—was he checking her out?

“Why were you so close?” she blurted out.

“Sorry. It looked like you were confused about how pillows worked,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “You were there for a millennium.”

“Funny.” She sighed at the amusement in his gorgeous blue eyes—stop it!—and steeled her expression. “Do you think you could help me set up this romantic dinner for our bosses instead of standing there like an ass-licker?”

“You mean asshole.”

“I stand by my words,” Katniss replied and was surprised when he chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he did. She couldn’t help but let her mouth rise. “The table is in that closet next to the door. I got some table linens from a vintage shop that Effie likes last week.”

“Wow, you’re really on top of it,” Peeta remarked, going to the closet. “How do you have time for a life?”

She didn’t.

As in, Katniss didn’t have a life.

She had work, she had a home, but a social life was non-existent. Katniss knew what everyone said about her; that she was cold and distant, never wanting to be part of the team. It never bothered her because she did have her reasons.

So, she was surprised at how hurt she was when she heard Peeta call her a headcase.

Katniss hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, only passing the breakroom to get to the copy machine. However, she stopped at the mention of her name.

Cato’s words were no surprise, though he failed to mention that her iciness was due to him inappropriately putting his arm around her and telling her that they should get to know each other on a personal level. Katniss also didn’t trust Clove for shit; she was the office gossip.

It hit hard to know that the one person who had made her tingle was so easily influenced by two douchebags.

Katniss had decided, then and there, that if Peeta didn’t see past her exterior, then he must be like the rest of them.

“I’m very organized,” she replied. It came out harder than she intended. “I have to be.”

Peeta had already set up the table in front of the fireplace.

“Well, it’s in your favor,” he told her. “You’re a good assistant.”

Katniss looked up in surprise. “You think I’m a good assistant?”

Peeta snorted. “Like you didn’t know it—where are the tablecloths?”

She handed him a beautiful fuchsia tablecloth followed by a cream lace one.

“Fuchsia first then layer it with the lace,” she told him. “I always hope I am. Effie is a great boss and she’s so supportive about work-and-homelife balance. I want to make sure this is all perfect for her.”

Katniss helped Peeta straighten the cloth, smoothing it down and making sure that there were no wrinkles. They settled into a light conversation about working with their respective bosses while setting the rest of the table. While Peeta worked on the place settings, he told her about how he admired Haymitch’s down-to-earth attitude despite being one of the most successful people in the company.

She arranged the florals in the center of the table while telling him how she had worked two jobs prior to getting this one.

“I was a waitress and housekeeper before this,” she revealed. “I was working a crazy lunch rush when I met Effie. We got to talking because she noticed how I met her coffee exactly the way she liked it despite my ragged expression—her words not mine. Effie kept on coming in, and a month after we met, she offered me the assistant job. Said she like my gumption.”

“That’s really cool,” Peeta said. He set down one of the forks he was cleaning and met her eyes. “You know, this is the first time we’ve really talked. I kind of believed you thought of me as your enemy.”

“I thought the same thing.” Katniss placed a folded napkin on the plate in front of her. “You called me a head case.”

His blue eyes widened, shocked at her words. Slowly, she could see in his eyes, the memory of his words.

“I didn’t know you heard that,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean it and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine!” Katniss stood up abruptly. The pain of his words churned in her stomach. “I know that everyone talks about me. In my defense, Cato was completely inappropriate when we first met. I thought acting like a bitch would stave him off. Clove has no filter—”

Peeta’s brows furrowed at her sudden coldness.

“I realize that now—one year later…is that why you completely ignore me? Why you act like the sight of me makes you sick?”

“I do not!” Katniss cried out into the room. “You avoid me at all costs!”

“Because the one time that I attempted to ask you a question—you brushed me aside!” he shouted. “If you had bothered to talk to me, I wouldn’t have believed what people said in the first place—” Peeta’s phone rang, and he quickly picked up, seeing his boss’ face on his screen. “Haymitch? You on your way? What? No, I haven’t looked outside—”

Katniss rushed to one of the front windows, pulling back the curtain.

White everywhere.

She couldn’t even see her car and it was bright fucking red!

“They’re not coming.”

Turning, Katniss found Peeta putting his phone in his pocket as he approached.

“The snowstorm came unexpectedly, and the roads are blocked. They’re staying at Effie’s to wait it out while we…are stuck here until it passes.”

++++++

The good thing was that the house was fully equipped. Food was stocked in the fridge since the couple had planned to stay for the long weekend. Both he and Katniss had even brought Haymitch and Effie’s luggage so there had clothing.

“Well, dinner must be ready,” Katniss informed him with a sigh. “If you want to get more comfortable, you can probably change to something of Haymitch’s. I have a call to make before my phone dies and then I’ll pull the food out of the oven.”

Peeta nodded numbly, grabbing Haymitch's duffle and going to the opposite open door where the bedroom was. He tossed the bag on the bed—

The one bed.

Turning, he rushed out of the room to look for his female counterpart. “Katniss!” He found the sitting room empty and headed into the kitchen.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” she spoke quietly into the phone. “Just be nice to Johanna, okay? I’ll be home soon.” Her voice sounded completely different, light and happy—even affectionate. “I love you, too. Good night.”

He knocked on the archway and she turned to him.

“We have a problem,” he told her. “There’s only one bed.”

“And the couch is really just a loveseat,” Katniss mused as she pulled the food—steak with roasted asparagus and potatoes. Her expression was pained, and she blew out a breath. “I don’t really want to think about this right now. Why don’t we just eat?”

Peeta quickly nodded in agreement, rushing to the sitting room, and grabbing their plates.

“Why don’t you let me set this up?” he told her, seeing how frazzled she seemed. “Have a seat. Open the champagne—”

Katniss laughed and the sound of her lightened the load on his chest.

“You trying to get me drunk, Mellark?”

Peeta smirked. “If it makes you like me, then yes.”

“Fine, fine…” Katniss sauntered off towards the doorway. She stopped at the archway and their eyes met. Her gaze was nervous, but he could see the warmth in her greys. “You’re not my enemy, Peeta. And…I like you more than you think.”

Katniss disappeared, but not before he spied the blush on her cheeks.

Peeta felt another twinge. This time—in his chest.

++++++

Instead of sitting at the table, Katniss grabbed Effie’s luggage, a classic Louis Vuitton that cost more than her old Jeep, and brought it to the bedroom.

The one bedroom. With the one bed.

A sudden image of herself spooned contentedly against Peeta in that very bed rose in her mind—

“Stop tripping off him!” she chided herself.

Distractedly, Katniss opened the bag, sorting for something remotely comfortable in her boss’ luggage. However, it looked like Effie was expecting some sort of kinky weekend. The only sleepwear she had was a tiny red number that Katniss would probably bust out of; Effie was a tiny but fierce woman.

Maybe she could borrow something from Haymitch’s pile—

“Katniss?”

“I’m coming!” she called out before stuffing Effie’s lingerie back into the back.

Walking back into the room, Katniss saw that Peeta had already placed the plates on the table. He stood waiting for her, looking obnoxiously handsome as he had the day they met.

That first time, she had knocked him to the ground so caught up in following with Effie’s rapid pace. When Katniss held out her hand to him, she was caught up in the open smile he gave her. Then it was the gold waves along his forehead, which Katniss desperately wanted to brush back and the blue of his eyes—they had a tinge of grey in them.

For a moment, she was just a girl, and he was just a boy. Peeta didn’t know anything about the rumors of her iciness or how someone like her, with no college degree, managed to get a position like hers.

In that moment, Katniss was pure.

“You alright?” Peeta asked, interrupting her moment down memory lane.

“Yes.” She let him help her into her seat. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Was it the one bed thing?” he joked. “I’m fine with sleeping on the floor—”

Katniss held her hand up. “Let’s be grownups. It’s a big bed and we can put a pillow between us.”

“Very to the point,” Peeta replied, holding up his champagne glass. “To being grown-ups.”

“To being grown-ups.” She clinked her glass to his and took a full gulp. The liquid bubbled through her, making her laugh. “Wow, that’s some good shit.”

Peeta guffawed. “We’re going to have some fun.”

END OF PART ONE

#Happy birthday keelaree!#The Long Weekend #Everlark #everlark fanfiction #there was only one bed

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edges-posts · 3 years

Note

I know there's a lot of thoughts on Ash's betrayal but I feel like everyone's being way too harsh on her. She was easily manipulated because of her anger, fear and grief and she's just a kid. People literally saying "she should die!" is not helpful and whilst she does need help, it doesn't mean everyone should gang up on her for harming the catos (especially Avocato)

Okay, so I don't blame Ash for snapping. I can understand why she did what she did. But there is a reason why I started to hate her.

I know this has nothing to do with your ask but I just wanted to get my side clear. (Don't know if that is grammatically correct but Imma just roll with it)

I don't hate her for taking little Cato away or for lashing out at avocato. I hate her because SHE KEPT ON COMPARING QUINN TO NIGHTFALL. It almost felt like if Quinn did anything wrong, Ash would be the first one to get on board the hate Quinn express.

I get it. Nightfall was close to Ash. And Ash lost her mother figure. But here is the thing, just because you go through shit in your life it doesn't justify the way you ill-treat others who have done NOTHING wrong to you.

Just because Quinn looked like Nightfall, ash expected them to be the same person. But when Ash came to know that Quinn isn't really like Nightfall personality-wise she started to really hate on Quinn. Quinn was going through things of her own. She shouldn't have to deal with a teenager who expects her to be someone who looks like her. QUINN DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DESERVE THE HATE SHE GOT FROM ASH. ALL SHE DID WAS EXIST. The amount of times I just wanted to crawl through my screen and just yell at Ash is too many times to count.

Maybe my reason for hating Ash is not justified. I can't say I am right cause I may be wrong too. I ain't no saint, cause I was one of those people that was harsh on her. So yeah.

Anyways, back to your ask.

I do feel like those who hate on Ash just because of the way she lashed out on Avocato and took little Cato away are kinda weird. It almost annoys me to see how people baby Avocato.

The reason I find those people weird is that, if you think about it Ash and Avocato did the same thing:-

1. They both took little Cato from his home.

2. Both of them took Little Cato away from his parents. In Avocato's case, it was the king and queen and in Ash's case, it's Avocato and Gary.

3. Both of them were being influenced by powerful evil people to betray the ones they knew.

4. Both of them joined the bad side thinking it was the good side.

5. Both of them wanted to protect Little Cato.

They both are similar in many aspects. So it made no sense to me why Avocato never got any hate for doing the same thing Ash did.

#final space

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cuntylittlesalmon · 4 years

Text

(photo credits to tom barret // wistomsin on unsplash)

i felt like to go along with my new url, i should reintroduce myself ! my account has grown since my first one so some of y’all may not know who i am :)

i follow from @rvmengf (and was previously lysander-xp)

hello friends ! my name is rhys, i am 20 years old, use they/them, and am a nonbinary lesbian. i currently live with my mom, my girlfriend of two years, and our two cats in texas. i’ve been writing for probably over a decade at this point, but i go through lulls in my seriousness, and, more recently, my productivity. last time i was as actively writing as i am now was in 2015, but ive done some large-scale rp’s with friends since then.

im currently a junior in university going for my BA in psychology, with a minor in biology. i have some really loose plans for what i want to do with my degrees in the future, but i have some time to think about that because i’ll still be in school for the next 6-8 years ! i do hope to work in research, and will probably end up teaching in a university (which is fine by me !) :)

now for the wips!

blood is thicker (working title) | main wip, nanowrimo project

victoriette lovett is princess of the vampires. she discovers a half-brother of hers who just so happens to the leader of the allegiance, an ages-old organizations of vampire hunters. times have changed.....or so she thought.

wip intro | wip tag

status: drafting book 1, outlining book 2 (for nanowrimo), brainstorming book 3

ewc: 70-75k (b1) | 50k+ (b2) | 50k+ (b3)

vessel

eirwen yale discovers she comes from a long line of vessels, people who host an angel and a demon at the same time in their body. an old nanowrimo project i’ve been toying with picking up again

status: re-outlining/re-working

ewc: tbd

project icarus

a group of vigilante superheroes do some things...fight some people...go to college....live rent free in my mind

wip tag

status: brainstorming

ewc: tbd

untitled college romance wip

lysander is a quiet guy who just wants to get his degree and get out. cato is a ball of energy who’ll get into just about any mess he can. and they’re roommates :)

wip tag

status: outlining

ewc: tbd

untitled epic fantasy wip

currently lives as a 17-section pinterest board & also rent free in my mind

status: brainstorming/world building

ewc: tbd+

unititled romance wip

a girl catches the eye of a mystery woman across the bar at a party she never wanted to go to. its a romance so they fall in love :)

status: fantasizing and daydreaming

ewc: 10k

miscellaneous wips tag

#writeblr introduction #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writeblr community #writer community #writerblr #writblr #writeblr intro

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Berceuse - Chapter Three

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

warnings; swearing.

wc; 10.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Alyssum sits alone at a table, picking at her nails while she waits for the Gamemakers to finally start calling in tributes to their private sessions. After what happened on the first day of training, she’d been given a very specific set of instructions by you and Finnick.

And to sum it all up; she’s supposed to keep her head down and pass through training with no other problems. Do what she wants to do, play with weapons and refresh her survival skills, and keep the hell away from people unless she’s going to be nice. Alyssum hasn’t been put in timeout for years, but this feels exactly like it.

As for Paslee, he was told that if he killed Alyssum in any sort of way, directly or indirectly, and ended up winning the Hunger Games, he’d never be forgiven and he’d live to regret it. Not only would he have to live with the guilt of her death, he’d also be stuck with a bunch of victors--maybe a whole district--that loathes him.

Needless to say, the careers haven’t bothered Alyssum either, especially with Paslee there to redirect them when they come close. Which was hardly ever, Alyssum kept close to the survival stations, and even joined Katniss and Peeta when she felt like she could learn something with them, not wanting to show off.

Although, it’s no secret that she knows stuff that the others do not.

If it comes down to just her in the arena in two days--which she has a feeling it will--there’s not a single doubt in her mind that she’ll be able to survive. If she can’t fight, it’s fine, because she doesn’t need to know how. As long as she can clean water, hunt animals, and stay out of sight, she’ll be fine.

The only people Alyssum has warmed up to are Katniss and Peeta. She’s not entirely sure that it matters in the end though, because they haven’t shown a lick of knowledge when it comes to fighting. Of course, she doesn’t have much experience herself, but at least she went to the stations to figure some stuff out.

Alyssum rests her head on her hand, right as a Gamemaker comes over the intercom, calling for Marvel, from District One. Her eyes shift over to see the tallest boy out of the career group stand, sharing a smile with her friends. She closes her eyes after that, and lets the clock on the wall tick away, counting down the minutes until it’s her turn.

After Marvel is Glimmer, then Cato, then Clove. They don’t return after they’ve been called into their session, which is good news to her. They’d probably brag if they came back inside, and she’s not really in the mood to listen to that. She’s already had to endure their constant chatter and laughter, talk about a headache.

The girl from District Three is then called, setting Paslee up to go next. When Alyssum looks over to him, curious about what he looks like right now, they lock eyes. He doesn’t stare for long, quickly shifting his eyes back to his own empty table that he’s sitting at.

As soon as Paslee is called, Alyssum begins counting down the time, eyes never leaving the clock. Five minutes, then ten. The nerves in her stomach sprout, and then make her sick when she thinks about her skills. What will she show the Gamemakers that she hasn’t already? The clock hits fifteen, and it’s only a couple seconds later, when they’re calling her name.

She slides off of the bench, standing up to her full height, which isn’t much, before starting her way to the door. She can feel her heart beating in her chest, and despite trying her best to ignore it, it’s loud. The doors open for her automatically, letting her inside, and sealing behind her to ensure she can’t go back.

The Gamemakers are all sitting together in a box, dressed in dark robes. Over these past few days during lunch, they’d go and speak to the experts from the stations, huddled together with the head trainer, too. They made it no secret that they had been discussing tributes, with occasional gestures and glances to the tables they were sitting at.

Now, it’s only her and them. It’s Alyssum’s turn to show them a secret skill, something she hadn’t wanted the other tributes to know for obvious reasons. As long as she has one deadly idea, then she might be alright.

The good news is that she has their attention. One Gamemaker motions for her to start, and she takes the initiative, turning her body towards the weapons, because she’s shown them what she can do with survival skills. The experts have told them how good she is at the stations. The only thing they don’t know is how handy she is with a knife.

She has you to thank for this skill.

This is one of the moments where Alyssum has to be grateful over the fact that you never left her defenseless. You have been drilling the idea of handling knives into her head since she turned nine.

So, when she walks up to the table, with all the differently carved knives on a pretty display, she picks up the first knife and doesn’t worry about the length, or the weight. Alyssum knows she has to find solutions in the face of discomfort. How will she combat it in one throw?

The knife she holds is too light, which is a problem she’s not used to. A part is telling her that now isn’t the time to overcome a challenge, it’ll put her score at risk. Then again, she hasn’t had the chance to play with knives for days, she should just enjoy it while she can.

Alyssum looks over the handle to see that it’s carved in the shape of a flower. Delicate, and the petals dig into her palm if she squeezes it too lightly, she’s careful not to. Her body turns towards the Gamemakers, holding the knife up in her hand by her thumb. In her time of training at the boarding school, Alyssum has only heard whispers about what actually happened during your private session, and she’s your sister.

There is one aspect that the story always revolves around, and it’s a knife. You somehow used a knife to score a ten. Alyssum wishes that could be the case for her, to show the same impressive skill you had, but it’s going to be impossible. She’s twelve, not fifteen. She has to keep her expectations realistic, and that’s why she’s aiming for an eight.

Without warning, she spins back to the targets at the knife station, arm drawn so far back that it hurts. Her eyes land on one of the bodies hanging up by a rope, fingers releasing the knife as she throws. It slices through the air quickly, no weight holding it back, and slams into the middle of the forehead.

She makes a face, looking back down at the other knives at display. There are four more copies of the knife she just threw, but she picks up one that’s on the opposite end, and finds it to be much heavier than an average knife. It clicks in her head then, that they’re laid out from least to most heaviest. If she picked out one in the middle, it’d probably work better for her.

With this one, she takes more time to get used to the weight, holding it in her palm to analyze where it’s coming from. The blade is thick, made of real metal, the blade sharp to the touch. However, it’s the handle of it that’s making it harder to hold. If she throws it, the knife is going to be more bottom heavy.

She can’t throw it by the blade this time, then.

Alyssum rolls her wrist a couple of times, and then throws, watching as the knife slams into the skull of the dummy hard enough for it to make a ‘thump’ sound on impact. She’s pleased to see that there’s barely an inch gap between the two weapons, side by side, parallel.

It goes on like this, with her bouncing back and forth between knives, throwing them at various parts of the body. Chest, elbows, knees, shoulders. It isn’t until she realizes that she has one knife left, the one that feels just right in her palm, does she see just how much she’s gone through.

A small smile appears on her face, just before she throws this knife too, lodging it where the throat should be.

Her heart is still pounding in her ears, sucking in deep breaths through her nose while she turns to the Gamemakers, who have all suddenly stopped to watch her. She raises her chin slightly, and gives a firm nod. She’s done. She’s shown them all her one secret.

They dismiss her, and she takes a different door to leave the gymnasium. As soon as that door closes behind her, she breathes out in relief. Inside of the elevator, she takes the time to calm her marathon breathing, because there’s no need to worry anymore. She did it, she made it through another obstacle of the Hunger Games.

Her next focus will be the interview, and then the arena, itself.

When she walks inside of the apartment, she’s able to see you sitting on the couch with Elysia, a leg tucked beneath you. The conversation looks lighthearted, nothing important. Caesar Flickerman is already on the television, talking about what the scores might look like for this year. As if the tributes ever change drastically enough to change the prediction.

“I’m back.” Alyssum announces, catching your attention. She gives a look to the hallway, wondering if Paslee is hiding in his room.

She partially wants to ask him what the Gamemakers had done for him, if they fell silent when he showed them his special skill. Or if he’s not as special, because he’s seventeen, and he’s a career. He’s expected to have a large set of skills, therefore it’s nothing to bat their eyes at.

Either way, she doesn’t see him nearby, he must have gone straight to his room after talking to you. Alyssum’s probably going to do the same, and take a hot shower to try and relax. She has a feeling that it’s going to be nearly impossible to do, considering her whole life in the arena depends on this score.

“How was it?” you ask, turning your body to her more.

Alyssum wanders forward, “I didn’t mess up once.”

A smile appears on your face, “That’s great!”

“When do we get to see the scores?”

“After dinner,” Elysia sits up slightly, “The stylists will be joining us, too.”

Alyssum makes a face, “I’m gonna go shower and get ready, then.”

She doesn’t wait for either of them to say anything else, heading up the steps and into the hallway so that she can go to her room. She only gets a few steps in before stopping near her door, holding her breath. She can faintly hear that you and Elysia have resumed your conversation, and waits to see if she can hear anything about Paslee.

The only thing she’s able to catch is that Paslee is also confident that he scored highly. After that, the door in front of her opens, and Alyssum barely has enough time to jump to pretend she’s still going for her room. Paslee stands in the doorway, staring at her, eyes slowly lowering into a squint.

She smiles, “Just came back.”

She leaves, makes sure that her door shuts behind her, and goes the extra mile to lock it to ensure that there won’t be any unwanted guests. If Paslee thinks that he did well during his session, then that means she should expect a score higher than eight tonight. For her, it’s unheard of for any twelve year old to get higher than a seven, but judging by the Gamemaker’s reactions, she might just barely make the cut that qualifies her as a career.

All she can do right now is cross her fingers and hope.

Alyssum picks out a nice outfit for the dinner, and then wanders into the bathroom. She peels off the training outfit, which has begun to feel like a second skin during these past couple of days. Of course, she’s given a freshly cleaned outfit everyday, but that doesn’t mean that they stink from sweat any less.

In the shower, she washes herself from head to toe, and it isn’t until she’s done, does she realize just how scorching hot the water is. And with her senses finally returning to her--after reliving her private session with the Gamemakers the entire shower--she shuts off the water and rubs at her skin carefully, not liking the sensitive feeling.

Her body and hair is blow-dried, she pulls on her new outfit, feeling much better already. She brings a couple of hair ties with her to the window in her room, sitting on the floor to watch the city below. She can’t imagine the frenzy that the Capitol people must be in right now, desperate to get their evening activities done as soon as possible before the scores air.

She ends up with a bun on the back of her head, wanting her hair to be off the back of her neck.

She sits there for a while, watching the cars below. Her thoughts are stuck on her brothers, what they’re doing at the moment, if they’re calm, if they’re worried. This is the second time that they’re having to go through this, an occasion that doesn’t happen often. Of course, siblings volunteer all the time, like Marsh and Paslee, but the chances of them winning are slim. Very few can come out like Gloss and Cashmere, sibling victors who are very good friends of yours.

The difference here is that Alyssum didn’t volunteer, she was chosen, just like how you were chosen nine years prior. And her odds are low, lower than yours ever were. If she’s going to make it out alive, she’s going to have to be sneakier, more clever than you ever were, which is going to be impossible to do. The wolf in sheep’s clothing tributes never make it very far anymore.

Not to mention, she’s already fucked up her chances at playing that role off, anyway. Her stunt in the gymnasium gave her attitude away to everyone in that room, and the careers didn’t make it a secret that she was going to be a target. She knows that she shouldn’t beat herself up over it, especially considering that she’s done that enough already, but she screwed herself over.

Royally.

About half an hour later, there’s a knock at her door. It’s Elysia, telling her that dinner is ready when she is. Alyssum pulls on a pair of flats before leaving her room to join everyone else at the table. Just as Elysia had promised earlier, the stylists are at the table.

Alyssum takes her spot at the table, and immediately there’s questions being asked about their private sessions. She’s a little stingy on the answers, she’s not allied with Paslee anymore, which means that whatever information she gives up about herself now, can be spun and told to the careers. For Paslee, however, he doesn’t spare details.

She has a feeling that it’s because he wants to build an image for you and Finnick, that he’s not all bad and he does have some potential. It also might have something to do with earlier, when she was basically caught eavesdropping. She waits patiently for him to finish what he’s saying, since she already found a way to crumble the flimsy sandcastle he’s been building.

“That reminds me,” Alyssum says, looking between you and Finnick, “Is it normal for the Gamemakers to be just… silent?”

You sit up, “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, “They weren’t talking or anything, during or after I was showing them my skill.”

Elysia turns her attention to Paslee, who’s beginning to lose the smile on his face, “What about you?”

“I--um,” his face twists, “A few of them were talking, but most of them were watching me.”

You and Finnick are sharing a look. Finnick tilts his head to the side, turning his attention back to the food in front of him, “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

“To answer your question,” you begin slowly, “No, that isn’t normal. I didn’t even have undivided attention.”

Finnick nods in agreement, “We should talk later on why that happened.”

Alyssum nods, eating her food while trying not to smile. The bragging from Paslee is done, she can tell by his sudden interest in his food, which he had been shunning earlier.

Once everyone is done eating, they migrate to the living room, where they all take their different positions while they wait for the scores to air. Alyssum has her legs criss-crossed beneath her, rubbing her knees to bring them some warmth.

Once Caesar is done with the formalities, he jumps right into scores, starting with District One, boys first. The boy gets a nine, the girl an eight, the boy’s score is normal, but Alyssum finds herself hung up over the girl’s score. What did she do to be so terrible? There’s hardly any time to think about it, as Cato gets a ten and Clove gets the same.

She hums.

A hand appears on her shoulder, giving it a small massage. It’s you, it’s always your go-to move when Alyssum is feeling stressed or nervous. She has to admit that this is an unforeseen twist of events. Clove is a lot better than Aly took her for, which means that it’s going to come back and bite later.

Paslee’s face appears on screen, Caesar gives a nod, and then announces that his score is a ten, too. Cheers and congratulations rain on him, as it’s a big achievement. Alyssum isn’t as worried about Paslee as she is about Clove. She already knows that he’s not allowed to directly kill her, he’ll just be messing with his relationship with you and Finnick. Which is not a gamble that most tributes want to play with their mentors.

When it’s Alyssum’s turn, the room falls into a hush, the anticipation building. Her picture comes in, and Caesar takes a moment to look over the score. A proud smile builds on his face, looking at the camera again before he says, “Alyssum Gallows, with a score of eight.”

More cheering, Alyssum can feel the balloon pop and dissipate in her chest, relief taking over. She scored high, that’s all she wanted. She’s allowed within the career playground now, she’s one of them. All there’s left to do is blow away the competition during the interviews and she’s golden for the arena.

“Amazing!” Elysia cheers, clapping quickly.

“Never done before, I don’t think.” Laurel says to Pleurisy, she’s nodding in agreement.

You pull Alyssum in for a hug, “Good job, Aly.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you and Finnick,” she murmurs back, squeezing your arm.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Paslee asks.

Elysia clears her throat and stands, she’s probably going to be the first to leave, “You two will be preparing for the interviews, there’s a lot of work to do on you both. I will start with Alyssum, you’ll be with (Y/n) and Finnick for four hours, and then we’ll switch. You’ll get more details about what you’re doing tomorrow, I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Paslee stands, and stretches his arms above his head with a yawn.

“We’ll get you up tomorrow if you’re not already.” Finnick says.

“Thank you,” he starts out of the living room, “For the training all these years, it looks like it paid off.”

“Just keep up with that spirit and we’ll be even,” you tell him, “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

Just as he takes off to his room, Caesar’s finishing up with District Twelve. Their tributes normally always score low, so no one normally pays attention, yet the television hasn’t been shut off just yet. Alyssum watches as Peeta receives an eight, making Paslee stop moving, halfway into the hallway already.

The room’s buzz dies out into silence once again, which means that no one misses when Katniss gets an eleven.

Alyssum stares for a moment, and then looks over to Paslee, who seems to be just as awestruck as she is. She may only be twelve, but never in her life has she seen a Twelve tribute score any higher than a five, which is their average score in the first place. Aly can’t help it when she looks at you and Finnick, waiting for some sort of a reaction.

It comes from Laurel first, “That stylist of hers has really set the stage for them.” she’s scowling, “We should get going so we can fix the interview outfits again.”

Pleurisy gets to her feet, “And we were nearly done this time, too. We’ll see you later.”

They leave, the door shutting behind them with a click. No one wants to move from where they’re standing or sitting. It’s a few more beats before you clear your throat, getting to your feet, “Well, she sure knows how to pick ‘em.”

“We should go have that talk on the balcony,” Finnick says.

“Do you think that it was a mistake?” Paslee asks hopefully.

“The Gamemakers never make a mistake that severe,” Elysia snuffs, heading to leave.

You nod, “She’s right, Katniss must have done something fantastic in order to get a score that good. My only advice to you now is not to go after Katniss purposely.”

He nods, turning away and going up the steps. He disappears into the hallway, Elysia is nowhere to be seen. The only people left are the Gallows family, gathered together in a triangle, sharing a look of doubt between them. You let out a sigh, placing your hand on Aly’s lower back as you guide her to the balcony, where the wind will be too loud to try and eavesdrop through.

“What exactly happened?” you ask her, and Alyssum doesn’t waste time reciting her time with the Gamemakers. From beginning to end, every single detail is given up, and it’s clear that she’s been dying to share, because she forgets to take breaths of air between sentences.

By the time she’s done speaking, she’s waiting anxiously for your guys’ assessment of what happened, and what it means. It obviously has to be good in some aspect, considering that she just pulled an eight. The other twelve year-old girl had only gotten a seven, which is pretty good, considering her odds, but it’s not career worthy.

“I feel like they were holding back on her score,” Finnick murmurs, leaning up against the railing, staring out at the city lights, “If she didn’t miss a single target with perfect accuracy, she should’ve gotten a higher score.”

“Yeah, but if they scored her higher, then that means she would have a bigger target on her back.”

“Publicity, though.”

“And they’d have to admit that not only is District Four training their tributes, so are One and Two. They’d have to do something about it.”

“She’s your sister, though. We know the way they score tributes and why they do it, she should have gotten a nine.” Finnick looks at you.

“You got a nine,” you remind Finnick, “And with what you showed them, they would have to reevaluate their whole scoring system just to allow her to be a nine.”

“That’s my point, they’ve changed so much, this shouldn’t have been a big deal.”

A sigh escapes you, “I’m grateful for the fact that she even got an eight in the first place. Like I said earlier, she would’ve had a bigger target on her back, and we already agreed that she should be watching her moves so the careers aren’t going after her specifically.”

Finnick makes a face, not liking this conclusion, but turns his attention back to Aly anyway, “You did good, kid. As for Katniss and Peeta, I would be careful trying to be their ally. You know that the careers will want them now.”

“Take advantage of that,” you cup her face, making her look at you, “Their eyes won’t be on you, which is a perfect distraction.”

You place a kiss on her forehead, “I’ll try.”

“Good.” you say, “Go to bed, Elysia will be working you from start to end. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, love you.”

“I love you too, Aly.”

When Elysia wakes Alyssum the following morning, she waits by the door until Alyssum sits up, after that she takes off. Aly takes her time going through the closet, since there’s no set outfit that Laurel had planned. She throws on some jeans and a shirt, then moves onto the bathroom to do the rest of her morning routine.

By the time she’s done and moving onto the dining room, everyone is already at the table eating. She takes her seat, and listens as you, Finnick and Elysia go back and forth on meaningless things. Mostly about the scores and what the other tributes had gotten. It seems as if you and Finnick went back to rewatch the scores, just in case any other big scores were missed.

And they had, the boy from District Eleven had scored a ten, not a big surprise. Both Paslee and Alyssum offer up what little information they observed inside of the Training Center. Just that he’s intimidating and is clearly hiding some serious skills, as he didn’t do much when it came to training.

When food comes at a slow pace, it’s time to get the four hours started. Alyssum drinks the rest of her hot chocolate, wipes her mouth, and follows Elysia back to her room.

It’s clear that Elysia has been doing this for years, because there’s not a single second of hesitation in her movements. She pulls out a long dress and heels for Alyssum to put on while she rearranges the chairs to fit her needs. Before Alyssum is allowed to sit, she’s required to walk around the room to allow Elysia to assess her.

She’s wobbly, it’s not a secret. There are several times where Elysia jerks to catch Aly when she begins to fall. Elysia mentions something about the carpet isn’t helping, but that doesn’t mean they get to change environments. They spend a good thirty minutes on just this, and by the end of it, Aly’s not half bad.

The next three and a half hours are tiring. Elysia fixes posture, corrects the way she sits several times, and has a whole segment on tweaking manners. A smile at the end of every sentence, or at the beginning, how to do a polite pause--Aly can’t believe that’s even a thing--and so on. She’s sure that Elysia is making it all up, until she gives a perfect example of all of her teachings thrown together in just a sentence.

Alyssum is dumbfounded.

“Well?” Elysia asks after a long moment of silence.

Alyssum’s face is twisted, “I feel like I could skip over all of this and the Capitol wouldn’t care.”

Elysia lets out a laugh, covering her mouth, “You’re lucky my four hours is over. It’s time for lunch.”

Alyssum changes back into her original outfit, helps Elysia put the room back together, and finds that Paslee is still working with you two. It isn’t until Alyssum has sat at the table, and is begun to be served lunch, do you realize that time is up.

Lunch is quick, Alyssum offers Paslee good luck in passing. She can’t imagine what he’ll be doing for four hours with Elysia if that’s what she just went through. He’s confused, she smiles, and joins you and Finnick in the sitting room while Elysia directs him to his room.

Alyssum doesn’t even get to sit down before Finnick is turning to you, “Okay, let me speak and then you can object.”

You raise your eyebrows, “So it’s not going to be something that I like?”

“Hear me out first.” Finnick says, and then looks at Alyssum, “If we tried to do some delicate personality on her, then she'd be looked over, which is what I originally suggested. However, laying low was ruined her first day of training, so we can’t just keep working with it.”

You stare at Finnick, “You’re suggesting we try and make her aggressive? Do you see her?”

“The Capitol doesn’t know what happened that first day of training, but the other tributes did. And now that everyone has seen her score, any facade that we were trying to give off, is ruined. There’s no point in trying to fool the other tributes.” Finnick explains, “That was the whole point of her being careful, right?”

“Yes, but I’m not entirely sure how the Capitol is going to react to her being anything other than innocent.”

He smiles, “Won’t know until we try.”

“This is not a game.”

“It isn’t, and still we took a chance exactly like this when we sent Marsh into the interviews with a comedy skit.”

It’s weird for Alyssum to see you and Finnick like this outside of the boarding school. You two have your moments like these all the time, banter back and forth until a solution is worked out. It’s how the two of you work through problems, minor or not. No matter what happens, though, you two never do it at home. And if you do, it’s never been in front of Alyssum.

Either way, Alyssum thinks that he’s won you over.

“Okay, say we do go through with this,” you start, Finnick sits up taller, “What’s her play? She’s not intimidating, she’s too small for that. She doesn’t look aggressive, and proved that during the tribute parade, and she’s my sister.”

“Exactly, she’s your sister. They all know what happened during our games, how we won, how we got there. It doesn’t matter what she looks like or what she did, she just has to try right now. It’s all about playing pretend.”

There’s a pause of silence as you look her over, gears turning in your head, “Okay, what do you suggest?”

“Aloof.”

Their eyes turn back to Alyssum, she raises her eyebrows, trying not to smile.

“We can make that work.”

They start getting to work on her after that, giving examples on how she can be aloof. Once again, she finds out that she’s really not bad at it, if she relaxes enough, it can come naturally. When they’re sure she has the personality down, they begin the questions that force her to open up or shut them out in order to keep it intact.

She’s good at it, picking which questions get to pass long enough to tell the Capitol a little about herself. They already know about her family, even if all the information is outdated now. She needs to tell them about her, how she went from that toddler in the family interview to a girl earning an eight on her training score.

After talking about herself, she’s then asked to say some stuff about the Capitol. It doesn’t come as naturally, since you and Finnick haven’t made your hatred for the Capitol a secret by any means. It’s rubbed off on her over the years, and recently it’s only begun to get worse. She’s stuck trying to find little things that will satisfy the Capitol’s curiosity on her experience thus far.

When she’s told to stop, she’s relieved but worried. You lean back on the chair you sit in, stretching your arms above your head, “She’s too much like me, I clammed up when it came to the Capitol, too.”

“Then don’t talk about the Capitol,” Finnick suggests, “Change the topic to something else, like home.”

“That would work better.” You say, readjusting.

And so it starts again, this time much smoother. You’re satisfied with her answers, shift gears, and tell her that in the last hour that you three have together, she’s going to pretend as if she’s actually being interviewed. You’ll be the one asking questions, Finnick will be the audience and judge by how they would react, and Alyssum has to throw all of her knowledge together. This includes what Elysia had taught her.

She doesn’t know how you know so many questions, or why they come so effortlessly, but there’s hardly a break between questions. Finnick will gasp, clap, sit in silence, and shake his head depending on answers. If it’s appropriate, she’ll elaborate on answers, which Finnick will nod encouragingly to tell her that it’s good and she should keep going.

The second that their four hours is up, Alyssum is on her feet, ready to be done with the mock interview. Her jaw hurts from talking so much, and she’s got a headache going on. At least you and Finnick seem to be satisfied with her results, because it’s nothing but smiles on your guys’ part.

Elysia comes out a minute later, dusting her hands and placing them on her hips, “They’re ready for tomorrow.”

“Yes, they are.” You agree.

Dinner is quiet and uneventful, both tributes had been given more than enough time to learn everything needed. They eat their dinner, and stick by long enough for you to tell them that they don’t have matching outfits for the interviews anymore. The two of them had completely forgotten to update Laurel and Pleurisy about it.

“Thank us later,” Finnick smiles.

“It still has the same idea to it, doesn’t it?” Alyssum asks.

“For you, yes. Paslee has something different.” You say.

Paslee shrugs, not bothered, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“The stylists aren’t starting at noon tomorrow, so I wouldn’t stay up late if I were you.”

He doesn’t say anything back. Alyssum begins to push her plates and bowls away from her, getting ready to leave. She can imagine that it’s going to be a busy morning tomorrow, and knowing her nerves, she’s not going to be able to fall asleep easily.

“I’m going to go, too.” she says, smiling, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Aly. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she chirps, heading into her room.

She stands before her bed for a few seconds, not feeling tired. A part of her just wants to sit in the shower and let the warmth rain on her, but she knows that the prep team will undoubtedly have her do that tomorrow, anyways.

Alyssum lays in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, occasionally out the window. She misses her bed, back home it wouldn’t matter if she’s exhausted or not, she could always fall asleep in her bed. Not to mention all the soft blankets that she’s collected over the years. The only way she’ll ever feel comfort like that again, is if she somehow manages to pull off a win.

She’s got a footing, she can’t deny it. Laurel is her stylist, you’re her older sister, Finnick’s her brother-in-law. She’s been training for five years now, Paslee too. There’s spotlight on her, she’s managed to score an eight, and made semi-friends with Katniss and Peeta.

All she has to do is not screw this up, which is easier said than done.

She’s twelve years-old, no one has ever won at twelve, Finnick is the youngest victor for a reason. She made enemies with another career, who’s fifteen and bigger than her, and scored a ten. Clove is going to have some influence over the career pack, which means that if she wants to hunt down Alyssum, she’s not going to get any opposition.

And Alyssum doesn’t have any real allies, she has to keep that in mind too. Katniss and Peeta were a nice thought, but she didn’t secure any sort of deal with them. She’s on her own inside of the arena, and that can be the safest bet sometimes. Only, when situations get sticky, it’s good to have that extra pair of hands.

She’s screwed inside of that arena, and that’s all she can think about.

The prep team scares Alyssum awake when they appear in the morning. Cleo’s pulling her into a sitting position, she can hear the shower running in the bathroom, and Leo is pulling chairs around to rearrange the room. She and Elysia had worked so hard to get everything looking back to normal too…

“Rise and shine!” Cleo laughs, “You sleep like the dead.”

No, that’s not right. Alyssum doesn’t even remember falling asleep, much less getting drowsy. It must have been some time after three did she fall asleep, because that’s the last time she checked the clock before rolling over to stare out the window again.

“What time is it?” Aly asks, rubbing her eyes.

“Ten thirty, which is why we’ve got to start.”

She follows their directions, dragging her feet the entire way. They start with a shower to jumpstart her, pressing buttons that she hadn’t considered using before. They wash her hair, and make her use a special body wash so she smells sugary. When she’s done, her hair is like silk and almost doesn’t feel real.

They dress her in undergarments, and that’s as far as they go with clothing. Beth takes her time on Alyssum’s hair, humming a song to herself. Cleo and Leo go back and forth between talking and arguing about certain things. No matter what happens, Beth doesn’t get in the middle of it.

All of her nails are painted white with hollow pink circles placed in specific areas. Once Cleo moves out of the way, Leo gets to work with makeup. It’s the last time she’s able to see what Beth is doing to her hair, which has so far consisted of straightening it. Beth must’ve been waiting for this part, because it’s when she really starts getting to work.

Laurel must want the reveal to be a surprise, then. Alyssum gets comfortable with her eyes closed, tuning in and out when she feels like pitching in her own opinions. Mostly she’s letting her imagination take her on a ride on what the arena might look like. The possibilities are endless, of course. If it doesn’t have anything to do with water, she hopes it won’t be a desert, at the very least.

Alyssum can’t stand hot climates, she’d rather freeze at night than spend an entire day sweating, going back and forth getting water. Dehydration is a nightmare, and she won’t want to live through it long enough to be declared a victor.

Beth then says she’s done, spraying hairspray on Alyssum’s hair, it smells just as good as her body wash did. They have to wait until Leo is done before they have her get up and turn her back to the mirror and window. Cleo shakes a can, Aly holds her arms out so that Cleo can get to every single area.

The initial spray is cold, but the longer she circles Alyssum, the more she gets used to the feeling. Whatever it is, it’s glittery, just not to the point that it’s overwhelming. When Alyssum manages to sneak a wipe on the wall, curious if it’ll transfer, it stays stuck to her skin.

“Don’t worry,” Leo says, as if he’s reading her mind, “It’ll come off when you shower tonight.”

That’s good news, she won’t be an obvious target each time she steps into the sun.

She continues to stand in the corner, waiting for Laurel to finally come by. Cleo twists hair around her finger, listening to Beth talk about what she plans to do with her hair. All it takes is for Leo to ask her to do his hair too, and she lightens up and asks what he wants done. This is the most Alyssum’s heard Beth talk since she got here.

As soon as the door opens, conversation dies out. Alyssum is instructed to close her eyes again while Laurel looks her over. Once it’s approved, the dress is brought in, and Alyssum has to navigate it with her eyes closed. Cleo is there to hold her hand and steady Aly when she needs it, but for the most part she’s useless. After the dress, comes the heels.

She expects she’ll be allowed to open her eyes after this part, but they insist on putting the finishing touches on her first. Dangly earrings, she can tell by the feeling. A few rings on her fingers, a necklace, one bracelet, and even go as far to give her an ankle bracelet too. Then Beth remembers the headband that she was supposed to put on Alyssum,

“She’s beautiful.” Cleo sighs, “Can we show her now?”

“Yes,” Laurel says, she sounds happy too.

Alyssum is shuffled in front of the mirror, and with a countdown from her prep team, she’s allowed to open her eyes. She doesn’t recognize who stands in front of her. Alyssum has dressed up at home before, the day of the reaping being a good example of that, however she’s never gone this far before.

Her hair is down and curled at the ends, and the white fabric headband in the middle. She can’t pinpoint what color her eyeshadow is, each time she moves her head to get a better angle to look at herself, it changes into a different pastel color. She knows she has rainbow highlights on her cheeks, at the very least. She also has winged eyeliner and fake eyelashes to bring more attention to her face.

Her earrings are rose gold and have little flowers spread throughout the chain. As for her dress, the upper half is like a tank top with how thick the straps are, it's a very smooth material. And the bottom half of it resembles layered petals, almost like a rose, that ends at her knees. It’s stiff enough to keep the bell look, but moves when touched. It has that lenticular look that her eyeshadow does, only with more glitter--that also doesn’t transfer.

The bracelet is a simple gold chain with dainty flower charms on it, her rings are also gold. Some have flowers, others have little designs that keep with the theme that Laurel has given her. Her ankle bracelet matches the one on her wrist, and her shoes are see-through with straps around her ankles.

No matter how she moves, she catches the light and changes colors. The colors match, too. Alyssum’s not sure how they managed to pull that one off, but they did it perfectly. If her eyeshadow goes green, so does her dress. However, it seems as if the colors mostly keep in the range of red, pink or orange.

“This is amazing,” Alyssum moves to a different angle, and catches the light pink that they must have been modeling the outfit after.

“It was your idea.” Laurel smiles.

“You managed to pull it off, though, I can’t take the credit for this,” Alyssum looks at her stylist, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” she looks at her watch, “I think it’s time for us to get to the elevator, so look her over.”

The prep team circles Alyssum for a full minute, checking and double-checking areas to make sure they aren’t missing anything. Once they’re sure they haven’t missed anything, they escort Alyssum out of her room and straight to the elevator. Elysia is standing by it, talking to you and Finnick. You two have also dressed up for the occasion.

“It’s a shame I’m not your stylist anymore, because you two look like shit.” Laurel says, causing you and Finnick to turn around.

“Excuse me?” your voice is sharp, “We made your career, the least you could have is some respect!”

Finnick places his hands on his hips, “What she said.”

You can’t hold the serious face you were trying to keep, a snort comes from Finnick as you dissolve into laughter. Once the two of you are collected enough, your attention turns to Alyssum, “Look at you! Reed and Mox are going to love this.”

Alyssum smiles, doing a small curtsy, “Will Caesar be able to compare us?”

“No, not at all,” Laurel says, “We designed you specifically like this to avoid any comparisons, you need to be yourself for just one night.”

“I was in blue and silver, you’re in the clear, trust me.” you smile.

“And pink is definitely your color.” Finnick says, you elbow his ribs.

“I can’t believe you guys got done before Pleurisy.” Elysia says, “That’s a miracle.”

Finnick clears his throat, “You didn’t hear it from me, but apparently Paslee was acting like a diva.”

Elysia coughs, trying to hide her laugh. Alyssum presses her lips together, looking at the elevator. You and Finnick share two different looks, trying to get the other to lose it. Laurel shakes her head for a long while… until Cleo snorts and the hallway erupts into laughter.

Which is right on time for the door to open and Pleurisy to walk out, rolling her eyes, “Sorry we’re late.”

Paslee is the last out of the apartment, dressed in a gentle pink suit that has a white undershirt. He gives a smile to Alyssum, raising his eyebrows as if he’s impressed. With what she just heard, though, she can’t help but laugh.

“Let’s go,” Elysia says, pressing the button to the elevator.

They all crowd inside, being careful to conceal the two tributes in the middle of bodies, not wanting them to be the first people seen when the doors open. Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy lead them out just far enough for you and Finnick to say what you want to before the interviews.

“Okay,” you breathe, “I hope you two already realize that you’re mildly matching.”

“Yes,” Paslee says, Alyssum nods.

“No back-handed compliments to the Capitol,” Finnick starts, “they don’t like it, and neither would you two. Compliment them on something at least once during the interview if you can fit it in, don’t force it.”

“Tell the truth as much as you can, if you have to lie to keep things interesting, we’ll lie with you. The sky is your limit, just keep the boarding school out of it at all costs, we can’t let it get shut down.” You continue, “Keep in character, don’t go out of it. They know it’s a facade already, but they love pretending it’s real.”

“If you don’t like a question, let Caesar down gently. Be short, yet give enough information to make sure it satisfies and move onto another topic. He’ll never go back and bring it up again. He’ll likely split it up into three categories.” Finnick holds out his fingers, “The Capitol, family, and you. He’s going to stress on the last two because you’re siblings of tributes that have gone in before. You’re like an update, and the Capitol will eat it up.”

You smile, “If either of you get nervous, we’re in the crowd, and so are your stylists and prep teams. Find us if you need reassurance, but you have to look around, especially to the balconies. Don’t forget the people up there.”

It’s silent for a beat or two, and then Finnick’s lips are also turning upwards into a smile, “It’s only three minutes.”

Alyssum and Paslee are told to stand behind the District Three tributes, with Aly in front of him. Unlike the private training session, for the interviews, it’s ladies first. Which is good, because Alyssum doesn’t want to be shadowed by Paslee.

With tributes arriving slowly, she’s able to take in how the interviews are going to work. As soon as everyone is in line in the correct order, they’ll be brought outside to the stage, where Capitol citizens will be waiting in a large crowd, the most expensive of them will be on private balconies.

All tributes will be on stage for the interviews, just sitting on chairs behind Caesar while he goes through them one by one. Alyssum will have to be careful on how she reacts to tributes and what they’re saying, and be even more careful with her posture.

The last pair of tributes arrive, and one-by-one they all get onto stage, heading toward their seats in the back. Alyssum is only on the bottom step, not even in sight of the Capitol just yet, and she can feel a sickness sprout in her throat, a headache beginning at the sight of all the bright lights.

Tonight is going to be miserable.

She steps on stage, and offers the crowd a shy smile. In a small glimpse she’s able to see that they’re all standing, none of them are sitting. All streets leading up to the City Circle are packed with brightly colored people dressed in various styles. She notes that not all balconies are occupied by the expensive Capitol people, but Gamemakers and cameras instead. It doesn’t ease her nerves at all.

She takes her seat in the white chair, making sure to cross her legs and sitting as straight as possible. Paslee, who’s sitting to her left, readjusts to do the same. The two of them whisper quietly about how everyone back home is watching. District Four is waiting eagerly to see what you and Finnick have cooked up this year. She hopes they’re satisfied.

Caesar bounces on stage as soon as his cue is given, the crowd roars, clapping and cheering for him. This year, his hair is a light blue, and so is the gloss on his lips. He wears a matching midnight blue suit that twinkles like stars with how many light bulbs are attached to it.

He makes sure that the audience is in a light mood by cracking a few jokes, and quickly introduces Glimmer before they have a chance to retreat. Alyssum stares blankly, watching as each career comes and goes, how they’re acting in front of the Capitol, how Alyssum can replicate it when it finally comes to be her turn.

It’s all very light on her end, figuring that she’ll be able to be gentle with the aloof idea. Then Clove finishes her interview, and gives Alyssum a certain look on the way back to her chair, and suddenly the competition has started. She can’t help the smirk that curls onto her face.

As soon as the District Three boy sits, Alyssum prepares to stand.

“May I introduce District Four’s very own Alyssum Gallows?” Caesar asks slyly, motioning back with his hand. The Capitol’s cheers are loud, almost deafening.

Alyssum gets to her feet, forcing the smile to hide. She has to look indifferent, or else the aloof idea won’t work. She stands tall, and walks carefully to the center stage. Reed and Mox are back home, on the edge of their seats, she can just feel it. You have told your story to the boarding school a thousand times, you were sweet during your interviews.

Now it’s Alyssum’s turn to be the opposite.

As soon as she stops in front of Caesar, grabbing his hand for the handshake, the three minutes have begun. It’s her time to be memorable, and she needs to fight to be seen as one of the careers, even if she won’t be joining them. She’s got the personality for it.

“Alyssum!” Caesar gasps, as if she’s an old friend, “You’re all grown up!”

She raises her eyebrows, looking out to the crowd, “Of course I am, it’s been nine years since you saw me last.”

“Nine years?” He asks incredulously, face twisted in mock horror, “The years aren’t showing, are they folks?”

The crowd shouts back at him, some clapping, others cheering. He lets out a laugh after a moment, waving off the idea that he could ever get old. That’s exactly why they have plastic surgery here. Alyssum almost didn’t believe it when you told her that Caesar has been hosting the Hunger Games for more than forty years.

“That dress is very eye-catching.” Caesar says, “I can’t even pinpoint what color it is!” He laughs.

“That’s because it’s not just one color,” she says as if it’s obvious, “Laurel, my stylist, went with a lenticular design.”

To prove what she said, she moves from side to side, allowing the crowd to see what Caesar means. With all the artificial lighting now that the sun’s down, it gives them the perfect opportunity to see. The crowd cheers, there’s a few stray whistles.

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Caesar awes, “And the bottom half, is it supposed to resemble a flower?”

“Yes, everything on me is flowery.” she hesitates, and then begins slowly, “Actually, it’s supposed to represent the innocence that the Capitol is taking away from me by forcing me to go inside of an arena as a punishment for a problem I didn’t even cause.”

And before the tension can settle, she flashes a smile and forces out a laugh, which Caesar reluctantly joins. Her eyes find you and Finnick in the crowd, you make a pinching motion with your fingers, probably telling her to tone it down. The problem is that she doesn’t want to.

“Well, for such an innocent girl, you scored so high.” He says, trying to move on.

“It runs in the family.”

“I can tell! Does it have anything to do with a special skill?” He asks, a hush seems to fall over the audience, eager to hear this part.

As if she’ll ever give it away, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Oh! I was afraid you’d say that!” He laughs, and looks at the crowd, “I know for sure that people have been on the edge of their seats wanting to know.”

“My only hint is that it relates to my sister in an aspect,” her eyes cast upwards, towards one of the balconies, “Doesn’t it?”

There’s a couple of quick nods coming from the Gamemakers, they know what she’s talking about, “Yes!” one of them shouts.

“A resemblance! As if we don’t have enough of those already!” and then he slows for a moment, “Speaking of which, I have to ask, at the reaping, was the gold dress intentional?”

Alyssum shakes her head, “No, just an unfortunate coincidence.”

There’s a few shouts of agreement, “Yes, I do think so too. I hope it ends up bringing luck in the end. What do you think your brothers thought of it?”

“They probably hated it, watching the youngest get reaped, especially since they’re absolutely helpless in the process. I’m sure that they won’t be wearing gold for generations to come.”

“I think that would be a wise choice,” Caesar agrees, “When you said goodbye, how was it?”

“Hard. They gave me an old necklace that belonged to mom and then made me promise something.” Alyssum can feel her time coming to an end, thankfully, she doesn’t think she can pretend any longer.

“And what did they make you promise?” Caesar asks, a hush falls in the air again.

It’s a lie, but they’ll never know, none of them will ever know. She looks out to the crowd, finding you and Finnick, “To win at all costs.”

The buzzer sounds, Alyssum can feel the relief hit her instantly. The crowd is cheering loudly, clapping, whistling, stomping. She can hardly hear herself think, eyes darting to the nearest camera. She hopes that this performance was good enough for everyone back home. Even if the promise wasn’t actually made, she’s going to bring it to life as best as possible.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Alyssum Gallows from District Four! It was a pleasure talking to you again, Alyssum. I wish you luck on your promise.” Caesar grins.

There has to be some sort of hatred that he’s hiding, because she nearly single handedly ruined the show. There were a hundred things she could have said after he commented on her dress, she just held it in. Not to mention, it definitely would’ve lost the favor of the Capitol.

Alyssum raises a hand to the crowd as a goodbye, and then makes her way back to her chair, ignoring the glares she’s getting from the rest of the careers. Paslee utters out a congratulations, she wishes him luck. He’s going to need it, at this rate she stole the entire show and she was only up there for three minutes. Even though it felt like an entire lifetime.

Paslee is called up, and Alyssum spends the entire interview trying to figure out what his angle is. If she was aloof--although, she did get hostile at some moments--then what did he have to go with? It comes to her when he keeps making statements that end the same way, he’s being cocky.

She can’t blame you and Finnick for making him act like this, it’s a good word to go off of, especially since he’s been training inside of the boarding school for years now. He’s got all of the experience on lock, and so far she hasn’t seen him doubt himself once.

Caesar’s only a little surprised that he’s getting an attitude like this right after Alyssum, maybe he was hoping only one of them would be bad to deal with. It sucks to be him, she supposes, because the two of them are careers, whether they want to admit it or not. Age doesn’t matter.

She’s expected to be timid, he’s supposed to be loud. It’s nice being able to see their surprise up-close.

His interview ends with a flourish, she’s honestly bored watching every other tribute go after her. It hits a point where they all act the same, since they all scored in the low range and their mentors haven’t seen a victor for years. They’ve lost all originality and rely on old tricks to get them through.

It could be worse, though. They could be from District Twelve, which Alyssum perks back up at, hoping for something good. Katniss gets through her interview, and Aly isn’t surprised when she says she promised her younger sister that she’d win. Her buzzer goes off, it’s Peeta’s turn.

It isn’t until the very end of his interview, does he take the spotlight right from Alyssum, and place it back on them again. She was sure with her attitude that it would be unbeatable, but there’s nothing better than a live love confession in the Capitol. Even she can hear Paslee curse under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Peeta’s in love with Katniss.

She’s glad when the interviews end and she’s able to stand on her feet again. The anthem plays, she raises her head as required, impatient to get off the stage. Once it’s finally over, everyone files into a line, starting with District One, and walks off stage and to the lobby.

Alyssum lets out the biggest sigh as soon as she’s out of sight, curling her hands into fists as she and Paslee go to search for you and Finnick in the sea of bodies. There’s a possibility that it wasn’t intentional, after all, Caesar had led up to that question. Doesn’t mean that he’s to blame for it, though.

“What a waste.” Paslee murmurs, walking beside Alyssum.

“Tell me about it.”

With every passing second, the lobby becomes an even worse nightmare. The two of them end up agreeing on just taking an elevator up to their floor, instead of waiting for their people. Just before Alyssum steps into the elevator with Paslee, she realizes who’s standing inside of it.

It consists of the entire band of careers, she backs off and moves onto the elevator next to it, and finds that it’s not much better. Peeta stands in this one, and it’s packed full with a bunch of other tributes. She sucks it up, presses the Four button, and then picks a wall to stand by until it’s her turn to get off.

Thankfully, it only stops once before hers, letting off the girl from Three. When the doors open again, she slips around people to get out. Paslee is waiting for her in the hallway, together they go inside of the apartment. They’re the first to arrive, which isn’t a big surprise. There’s a lot of people that need to be transferred.

“Quite an interview you had,” Paslee says, probably not wanting to wait in silence.

“I can say the same for you.”

“I’m not sure passive-aggressive was the way to go.”

She looks at him, “Who cares? They’ve probably forgotten about me already.”

The door opens, and one by one, does everyone file in. Instantly, congratulations are falling on the two of them. Briefly, you and Finnick pull her aside to talk about why she went off track, and explain to her that she wasn’t supposed to verbalize the anger, just show it through body language. She’s lucky that she changed her attitude by the end, because that saved her.

Kind of.

With the exception of the prep team, everyone sits at the table for dinner, which is a little more elegant than it was these past couple of nights. The Capitol’s food is always delicious, but tonight is a special occasion. It’s their last night in the Capitol, as tomorrow morning they’ll both be at the arena before ten.

Laurel and Pleurisy keep conversation going by giving out their opinions and who would’ve interested them personally if they weren’t stylists. They end up admitting that Katniss and Peeta have, once again, outshone them all, which is something that Alyssum already figured out.

She should probably invest a couple of days into looking for either Katniss or Peeta inside of the arena. Even if the two of them aren’t allies, having one of them as her backup is going to be better than no one. Besides, she can’t even entertain the idea of joining the careers.

Of course, that means she’s going to have to get over her growing irritation for the both of them.

They bring Alyssum and Paslee into the living room so that they can watch a recap of the interviews. She has to admit that it’s very different seeing them from the front than the back or on the television screens provided. Whenever a tribute looks at a certain camera, it’ll flip to that perspective.

She can hardly stomach watching Peeta confess his love again, but she’s happy to see that she’s not the only tribute that reacted negatively--with the exception of Katniss, who was bright red. It makes her realize that there’s a problem with wanting to team up with either of them, Katniss especially.

With all of the attention they’ve been getting lately, the careers are probably seeing them as a threat. If she goes out of her way to find them and it turns out that the careers are hunting them, she’ll be screwed. And the careers will have a field day because they’ll have two tributes they want to kill, right next to each other.

Maybe she needs to do some rethinking.

Elysia is the first to say her goodbyes, hugging Paslee first, but holds onto Alyssum the longest. When she pulls away, there’s tears in her eyes. She wishes the two of them luck, since they won’t be seeing her again after tonight, and then leaves immediately to have a breather.

You and Finnick give them a smile. She can’t imagine what you’re thinking right now, how you might want to react. Alyssum begins to wish that she had spent more time with you in between events, even if that meant she’d be exhausted everyday. It would’ve been better than the guilt that’s settling in her chest.

“Aly, stay out of the cornucopia.” You start, “I don’t care what the reason behind going might be, run in the other direction.”

Alyssum nods.

Finnick looks over at Paslee, “Watch your back, there’s going to be a dozen people in the bloodbath at that moment. You don’t know who’s watching you or what their plans are. Also, don’t go too deep inside, you’ll trap yourself. Wait until you’re absolutely sure that it’s over.”

“Finding water should be both of your guys’ priority. And use common sense inside of the arena, please.” you give them a gentle smile, “No matter what happens, we have your back, remember that.”

“Thank you,” Paslee says.

“Go rest, you’ll be getting up early tomorrow morning.” Finnick says.

Paslee nods, heading up the steps. Alyssum doesn’t move from where she stands, staring up at you and Finnick. The longer the silence settles, the more tears fill her own eyes. She’ll be on her own starting tomorrow morning, and she doesn’t even know what to do. Did she even make progress?

“Come here,” you open your arms for her.

She doesn’t hesitate, crying into your dress.

Alyssum doesn’t want to go.

BERCEUSE IS A SPIN-OFF //MASTERLIST//

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#ilguna #berceuse #berceuse chapter three #halcyon

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clatoera · 1 year

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Always Remember We’re Burned for Better Chapter 12: Meet Me at Midnight

HOOOO BOY. HERE WE ARE. CHAPTER 12. The entire Quarter Quell. Liberties have been taken of course, but oof. Here it is. This is the longest chapter. I have spent about 18 hours on it all together. I wanted to post at midnight but here were are with Midnight (3 am version). I am so sorry this took so long, and hope this makes up for it. I am now done with exams and should be back on our regularly scheduled weekly post schedule! Hopefully! Stay tuned!

Alright.

This chapter is.. a lot. I hope y’all don’t hate it.

It does serve to remind us that while we love clove and cato and glimmer and marvel..they are still career killers. This is who they are. It’s violent, i’m definitely on a watch list for this.

masterpost

ao3

Chapter title from t-swift Lavender Haze.

Do you know how excited I was that chapter 12 is the quell and is midnight themed and theres 12 districts but you know whats even more exciting? That chapter 13 is next. During SN TV week. Can you believe this chapter is where this fic was truly supposed to start? Thats bonkers to me.

Anyway. As usual. A thank you to my loves who talk with me all day. @ohhowwehavefallen and @afterfawn. And thank you to everyone for your complete and total support with boards. I cannot thank you enough.

Well. Meet me at Midnight.

Day One.

Clove’s feet hit the rocky sand and she runs, runs for her literal life towards the stack of supplies. Her eyes flicker rapidly over the various piles, and she notes instantaneously the lack of stuff that they are so used to from their own games and their training. No food, no matches, nothing but shiny silvery–

“Weapons, that's all there is!” She calls out to Glimmer the instant she sees her, having been the first of the others to reach her. Glimmer is beside her in an instant, rummaging through the stacks before their biggest competition could start to pick them off.

“Probably hoping we’ll flash them something for water.” Glimmer snaps, before effortlessly twisting on her heels and catching the first person she sees within arms length with the long, curved knife in her hand. When she pulls it out from the side of the woman’s abdomen, the woman from district five goes limp on the ground, twitching like a gutted fish out of water.

Clove can’t help the little smile on her face as she weighs a butterfly knife in her palm, watching one of her only friends slaughter the woman like livestock.

At the end of the day, they’d die like the trained career killers they are.

“Look at them,” Comes the voice of Marvel, who now looks out at the field of victors struggling to stay afloat in their wedges, some of whom are still remaining on their podiums. “Like sitting ducks.”

Cato finally convenes with them, coming around from the tail end of the cornucopia. He tosses something into Clove’s arms and she immediately recognizes the familiar weight– a knife vest, just like she had in her first games. “Happy fucking Birthday.” He remarks, before he nods to the side. “Johanna’s already run off, I saw her grab something and run down the spoke that way.” He raises his arm, and for the first time she realizes he’s found himself a long silver sword that so naturally acts as an extension of his arm.

Clove realizes then that her wedge partner, the boy from 7, was nowhere to be seen and likely ran off to join her. Great. They’re already escaping them.

In a moment of rage and impulse she had to have learned from him, Clove launches the knife in her hand directly into the neck of the male from five as he struggles to doggy paddle towards the sand. His throat makes a bubbling gurgling noise as the air escapes into the water from his severed trachea, and before long his entire body sinks under the current. He wasn’t a true threat, not really, but everyone was far more of a risk than they would be in a normal game.

She feels the way her heart speeds, the way it pounds in her chest like a bird trying to escape at the thrill of another kill on her roster. Nothing would ever come close to the feeling of this.

“Looks like you still got it.” Cato teases in passing, stepping over the body of the nine woman who is crumpling to his feet after his hands skillfully internally dislodged her skull from her spine.

“Not so out of practice yourself.” Clove grins, raising her eyebrows playfully- if only briefly- at him before she hears the voice of Marvel.

“Finnick and the twelves are running off.” He gestures in the direction of the tale of the cornucopia, where Clove can see Finnick running followed by Katniss. Fuck. That was enemy number one, getting away.

Without a second thought Clove had a knife in her hand, poised and aimed directly at the heart of the girl on fire. She releases just as Finnick sees her, and he must give warning to the girl just in time for her to turn her shoulders just enough to turn the blade off course. It lodges in Katniss Everdeen’s shoulder with a satisfying scream from the girl, and before Clove can prep another Finnick has pushed her into the water next to her faux-lover.

Finnick shoots Clove and Cato a look that could only be described as a plea before he jumps in the water after the Twelves.

“Fuck!” Clove screams, watching as one of her limited weapons sinks into the ocean with Katniss, taking her double cannon with it. She doesn’t have long to be upset, kicking the sand below her as she hears her allies calling to her.

“Clooooove, I’ve got a present for you!” Glimmer calls to her in a sweet sing-song voice, luring them back towards the mouth of the cornucopia.

Cato and Clove head towards the sound, stepping over a discarded body from District Ten, noting another floating about 50 yards out in the waving, angry ocean. On the way there the man from nine attempts to dart past them, meeting a sharp end as Cato shoves the end of his sword directly through his abdomen. A trail of bowel falls out of the wound as Cato retracts, leaving the man from nine on his knees, holding his intestine in his hand as he gasps for the last gulps of air he would ever take.

They round the cornucopia in time to see Marvel pulling a spear from the back of a woman- Cecelia, the mother from eight, that Clove would not have to kill after all- and see Glimmer press her foot deeper into the neck of the man from eight.

“Remember her now?” Glimmer taunts, grabbing the dark haired man by his hair, forcing him to look up at Cato and Clove before him. There's a wicked grin on the Blonde girl’s face, beyond any of the happy smiles and sweet laughs she was normally so full of. “If you want to start begging, now’s the time. “

Hell, it almost felt like seeing her in her natural habitat, all that anger finally having somewhere to go.

There was a reason they ended up friends after all.

“He’s all yours.” Marvel kicks the man’s side, nodding at Cato to twist the guy onto his back, “you know. Birthday gift and all that.”

Clove isn’t sure she’s ever smiled wider than when she realizes the opportunity that is finally in front of her. An opportunity she can remember dreaming about, all the way back to her fifth birthday, when she learned what killing actually meant.

So what if she lost twelve, if this was her last kill. Maybe it was the best, saved for last.

“All this for me!” Clove feigns surprise, fingers searching for the most cruel, carved blade she can think of on her vest. They’d get a good show, back in two. Like a cat, Clove was always good for playing with her food. “How’d you know this is exactly what I wanted!?”

Clove immediately kneels over the man, held down on all sides by her friends. Once she got started she wouldn’t need the aid– but this was their gift to her after all– all wrapped up nicely.

“I’m sure you don’t remember me.” Clove starts, dragging the pointed blade down the side of this dark-eyed man’s face. “You feel it yet?” She practically purrs, as the knife in her hand deftly separates skin from the fibrous fascial covering underneath as easily as she parts the peel from the orange. “That sense of deja vu…” She starts at his chin, peeling the skin back from his face leaving only a beefy red musculature underneath. “I’ve got him, now” Clove tells the other three, who drop his limbs to retreat to allow her to have her moment of glory and revenge. His body is already limp, no longer bothering to thrash underneath her (or maybe it was the shock, the burning pain from severed nerves in his face, that had him numbly twitching under her).

“You got kids at home?” The dark haired girl taunts, dragging the hook of her blade lower over his neck, where she slips the metal just beneath the tissue- deep enough to hurt, but not to kill. “I have some advice for them..” Clove digs the nail of her thumb into an area of exposed musculature, resulting in an agonized scream that echoes throughout the cornucopia. “Watch this, every single day. This moment. Right here.” She pulls back on the flap of skin on his face, a noise like velcro filing her eats as she separates the thick layers. “Over and over and over again.” Clove withdrawals her knife before dragging it sideways along the expanse of his chest, slicing the upper layer akin to the way parmesan curls from the rind. “I have waited my entire life for this.”

Her knife finds his chest. Over. And Over. And Over. And Over again. The knick of an artery sends blood splaying in her face and onto her skin, but Clove is not once distracted from her intention.

She does not know how much time passes. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours.

“Clove, baby, you need to stop–”

“He’s dead Clove, save your energy–”

Clove may not respond but she feels a pair of arms around her waist, hoisting her up and pulling her off the body beneath her. Her pupils are long past blown, practically pure black holes honing undeniable, extreme rage.

Clove only fights the arm around her waist a little– it’s Cato, of course it’s Cato– when he pulls her back,

She is covered in hot, sticky blood in various stages of congeal, the splatters adding an entirely new layer of freckles to her face. The knife falls from her right hand as she takes in her handy work.

The mangled body before her could no longer even be called that. The pile of flesh far more resembled ground meat, or sausage removed from a casing before it could be cooked. There was no more body to be sent home– simply remains.

“Where’s the cannon?” Clove growls, poised to go back in to finish the job, as if this were not a pile of minced meat before her. “The blood bath is over. I should get my cannon.”

“It went off nearly an hour ago, Clove.” Marvel fills in, poking at the mass of remains with the pointed end of a spear. “You just really finished the job.”

“An hour?? I was down and distracted for an hour?”

“You weren’t in any danger.” Cato sets her down beside him, letting her have the space to go dip her skin and knives into the nearby water to wash off.

“I think you deserved to do it!” Gimmer chimes, before craning her head up to the sky, noting the sun was already setting leaving the sky with a pink hue. “Not to ruin the moment..but should we stay here? In the cornucopia.”

“Probably better than risking the woods tonight, with twelve and Finnick out there.” Cato agrees, looking towards their stockpile of weapons sans survival supplies. He looks up to the sky, calling out to Enobaria and Brutus and whoever else was listening. “We could use a fucking treat, you two!”

“Brutus always did send a reward when it got bloody.” Clove mumbled, rejoining the group now free of the blood that had dotted all over her skin. Her hair was now in wet, loose clumps down her shoulders, having needed to free her hair in order to wash the blood and other tissue remnants out. “That's salt water, it’s of no use to us.”

“Oh your hair is so pretty like that, Clove. I used to have hair like that! Then they used some chemical on it, to make it like this.” Glimmer compliments, tossing a bouncy curl over her shoulder before she begins sorting through some of the piles at the base of the cornucopia. “There’s a..fuck..ton of arrows but no bow. I’d guess Katniss got to it already?” She sighs, before bringing up the arrows and one by one snapping them over her knee, making them useless if fire girl got her paws on it.

Marvel is working on a little fire– they weren’t going to be targeted, not together, not when everyone already ran full speed in the opposite direction of the four of them– as the little silver pods finally – about fucking time– floated down their way. Sure enough they were sent their fresh water and a few half-filling snacks.

What were they supposed to do? Hunt down exotic birds? They’d starve, before they got to that point.

Absently they note the claws beginning to scoop up the bodies that are face down in the water or along the sand, before deep from in the foliage there comes a sound that distantly reminds Cato of the bug zapper that the academy would use in the late summer months. Back when late night runs would result in dozens of severe bites covering them all. It is a quick zap of electricity, like a fly getting its little wings crisped off.

For a minute they even thought they heard a scream– but no cannon followed.

Hmm. Must have been imagining it.

Such is how the first day passes. Organizing their stacks, watching as different “slices” as Marvel called them, of the forest sort of came alive at different times. There was a hissing sound from one– a bug infestation, probably– and another faces a large tidal wave that originates at their feet before flooding the entire slice.

It’s a unique vantage point– able to watch how the arena genuinely does seem to be sliced into sectors.

“It’s probably twelve, like districts, right?” Cato suggests, as he picks up a few rocks from the beach to throw out into the crashing white caps of waves. “That's got to be what it is.”

“They’re obsessed with the whole twelve districts things, so, I'd venture to say you’re right.”

Clove settles beside him, her dark head full of curls resting on his shoulder. “Think we should go looking for people tonight? Start hunting them down?”

“...eh, what's the point?” Cato shakes his head, leaning back to lay in the sand before pulling her down beside him. “We need to see who’s already dead and figure out a plan..” Obviously a plan to take out Katniss, but also when they would have it in them to turn on their friends who, despite choosing a different alliance, had been their friends before enemies ever even was a possibility.

Clove lays back beside him, her head resting on the fleshy part of his upper arm and chest. “We can plan tomorrow, then.”

The Panem emblem is blinding as it comes into the sky, and Clove squints as she gazes up into it despite the impressive brightness. The first deaths are from five– damn, somehow Finnick’s little old woman survived as did both from three– Glimmer had gotten the girl and Clove had the man. Then the pair from eight– Clove and Marvel’s takedowns– and the two of them from nine who Cato had personally taken down. Both from ten were also out, not at any of their hands, as well as the woman from eleven.

That made nine out of the first day. Nine dead, leaving four careers tributes, the B team alliance, and a few random tributes floating around. Yeah..definitely not worth hunting them out tonight, they had plenty of time.

“Why don’t you two go in and sleep.” Glimmer suggests, appearing from behind them and sitting on the other side of Clove in the sand. “We can watch for a few hours.”

“Go in?” Clove cocks an eyebrow, glancing around. “Where are we going in?”

“Oh, you know.. The Cornucopia?” Glimmer nudges her shoulder with her own. “It’s private to sleep you know…no cameras.” She flicks green eyes between the two of them with a knowing smirk. “Oh come on, like you two never had a little fantasy of being in the Games and getting a chance to well…you know..” She winks at them and nods her head in the direction of the cornucopia. “Go. We’ll watch, as if anyone is going to be stupid enough to come after us.”

“And hey..if they do..go out with a bang, you know?” Marvel teases, now sitting on the other side of Cato in the sand. “Go. Just..not all night.”

Clove and Cato share a look, one they know had Enobaria clawing at her face in the Victor’s Suite, quickly rising to their feet. Cato offers her a hand which she’s never taken so quickly as he starts to lead her off like two kids in a candy shop.

The crack of lighting and accompanying booming make all four of them jump. Clove whips her head around just in time to see the massive bolt of lightning strike a tree directly in line with the tail of the cornucopia. The following boom rings out twelve times, signifying…something?

“Twelve again, it’s got to be a district thing.” Clove reiterates, before shrugging her shoulders and shooting Cato an absolutely wicked grin. “As we were?”

“See you in a few hours.” Marvel reminds them, before a silvery laugh from Glimmer pulls him from thinking about Cato and Clove any longer.

Day Two.

The alternative sleeping works out well for them, the conglomerate of them a combination of well rested or at the very least pleased as they head into day two of the Quarter Quell

Overnight had been the loss of someone– a high pitched scream from a quadrant filled with fog was all Glimmer had been able to piece together in the dead of night, but it was another one down and out of the way. Right before that had been the sound of a storm- heavy rain, maybe– the sound of that bug zapper, and another cannon. Two more down in the middle of the night. Who it had been hadn’t mattered, unless it was magically enemy number one and her accomplice.

The sun is high enough that it could be late morning or midday- who knows how to tell in here, when they finally decide to get a start to their day.

“What if we split. The two of you go to the one slice, we’ll go to the twelve slice… work our way inwards?” Marvel is the one to suggest, pointing out the different sectors. “We come back here at three and nine, switch partners, and then go back out.”

“Why are we going to switch?” Clove huffs, though she is already clipping her knife pack onto her chest.

“Bonding, I don’t know, Clove, it was just an idea.” Marvel rolls his eyes, before twirling a machete-esk knife in his hands. “It could be fun.”

“Fine, whatever.” Clove agrees, glancing up at the sun in the height of the sky. “It has to be about twelve, I'd think?”

As if on cue another lightning bolt rips through the tree at the apex of the Cornucopia, before the chimes of the clock tick by. Twelve dings, probably.

“Twelve chimes again.” Cato confirms, nodding towards the edge of the beach they had perched themselves on. “Three segments then we regroup.” He reiterated, before nodding towards Clove and heading off the first spike.

They walk in line with one another, him before and her behind, step after step with each other.

“I can’t see past your giant shoulders.” Clove mumbles, kicking rocks off the long runway as they walk ahead.

“Yeah, like you usually complain about how big anything is–” He turns, quirking an eyebrow at her before he’s wrapping his hands around her to throw her up over shoulder. “Can you see now?” He taunts, earning flailing legs trying to kick him directly in the chest.

“This isn’t what I meant!” Clove hisses, wriggling her best to get put down to maintain some semblance of dignity. “Put me down!”

“Yeah? Okay, Clovey.” He wraps both hands around her waist and feigns tossing her into the bobbing water beside them.

“Cato, what the fuck!” She screeches, wrapping both arms firmly around his neck so that if he tossed her he would certainly topple over with her.

“You’re so cute when you’re yelling.” He teases, placing her feet first in the sand once they reach the beach. He brings a hand up to her face, tilting her up by the chin as he looks her over, taking her in. “it’s a fucking shame we never got to go to an actual beach.”

“Why, so you can oogle at me in the sun?” She taunts, running a hand through the length of her salt-scrunched hair, before getting a good look at him, too. Even just the twelve hours they had spent in a sun had bronzed the skin of his face enough that it reminded her of those late summers in the academy, when they ran around the lakes on top of the mountain and came home with sunburn so deep their skin ached from the muscles moving underneath.

“Yeah, exactly.” He twists his finger through a long strand of hair that framed her face. “You’ve got more freckles than usual.” Cato didn’t even remember her hair ever being this curled, ever in the twelve years he had known her. “It suits you.”

“There's a lot we never got to do, just add the beach to the list.” Clove nodded towards the crest of the forest, taking his hand and leading him in. “Come on. Lets look like we’re at least trying.”

The two of them slip into the depths of the rainforest, immediately choked by the intense humidity of the sector. It’s not just hot and wet air, but terribly sticky, like a thick warm syrup drenching their skin in the air.

“It’s like literal hell in here.” Clove groans, wiping at her skin with the forearm of her wet suit. “Are these designed to trap heat in? Are we supposed to sweat to death, what a way to fucking go.”

“Didn’t Marvel have a jungle like this in his games? Maybe we need to send him in–”

As soon as Cato says it, a storm cloud cracks with thunder above them, and distantly they can hear the beginnings of rain in the highest layer of the canopy. “Maybe it’ll be freshwater?” He suggests, before he sees the first few drops of red hit the skin under Clove’s eyes and along the bridge of her nose.

She must have noticed something similar on his own skin, because she reaches out and runs her thumb along his nose, pulling it back to reveal a thick, sticky red gel. “Is this–” She opens and shuts her fingers, the telltale way the liquid spreads through the grooves of her fingers confirming all she needs to know.

“Blood.” Cato agrees, as they both look up in time for a hot wave of Blood to rush down onto their faces.

It’s wordless, as so many of their conversations are, that they immediately head directly towards the crest of the forest behind them. Fortunately they were not terribly far in– a few hundred yards– but by the time they make it out (Which, they have impressive speed, thank you very much) – they are covered head to toe in blood from an unknown source.

“Think it’s human?” Cato asks, using the heels of his hands to wipe the thickness away from his eyes.

Clove, however, isn’t thinking about the blood itself.

She’s taking in the way the deep maroon makes the brightest shade of blue in his eyes jump at her, or how the tint of red in his sunshine blonde hair reminds her of a sunrise in hue, somehow.

Oh for fucks sake, Clove, this is the Hunger Games pull it together.

“...babe? You okay?” Cato calls out, snapping his fingers in front of her glazed over eyes. “You’re breathing pretty heavy there, come on let's wash this off in the–”

“Don’t you fucking dare get in that water.” Clove warns before she’s pulling him down to her height with both hands on his face. She kisses him hard– biting down on his lip so hard she isn’t sure if the blood she tastes is his or that of the unknown source that covers them. Not that it matters, as Clove realizes here and how that this is what they had always so casually joked about those last few weeks before their games were split.

What’s more definitive to Cato and Clove, than bloodlust turning into lust with blood.

Cato’s mouth trails down the side of her neck as Clove tilts her head back for him, when it hits her that they are entirely open– not only to cameras but to Katniss and Finnick and Johanna. “Cato- Cato we need to go to the Cornucopia. Now.” She whines out, holding his face in her hands as his mouth finds any expanse of exposed skin she has in these stupid wetsuits she has never wanted off so badly.

Cato says nothing, and literally picks her up before heading back towards the center of the arena.

“What happened to you two!” Glimmer practically screams when she sees them, covered in blood and walking with intensity towards the center of the cornucopia.

When they say nothing in response and just scurry past them, Marvel tilts his head in curiosity. “Sure! We’ll keep look out! Thanks for asking!” He shouts past them, as they stumble into the hidden cavern inside the metal structure.

Again, no one is sure how much time passes.

Cato and Clove rejoin them, and eventually do wash off the blood in the salty beach nearest the cornucopia.

They’re sitting there divvying up another gift from Enobaria

“Real fucking Classy you two” The note on this one had said.

They’re laughing at the note, thinking of ways to show their appreciation when they hear a commotion on the beach. In the distance they can see the B Team Alliance, emerging from their own sector and heading towards the back tail of the Cornucopia via one of the spokes.

“Oh they’re idiots.” Marvel shoots his own allies a grin, as they quickly and wordlessly disperse amongst the goods. “What are they coming for?”

“A fight.” Cato decides, before he himself hides in the depth of the Cornucopia itself. Noone is actually sure what they’re heading into the center of the arena for– just that they all wouldn’t be coming out.

The four of them fall into silence as soon as the crowd of the others arrive. They’re talking about time– and the woman in the back is clearly off her rocker. Marvel locks eyes with Clove from where they sit in opposite sizes of the darkness– she’s an easy target, get her down first– and Marvel is the one to move first.

The frenzy that unfolds can only be described as akin to sharks smelling blood in the water.

Marvel slits the throat of the crazy, babbling woman, and the resulting cannon has firegirl on him in a minute. She shoots at him, and while she clips the top of his shoulder, Clove gets to her first.

Glimmer is behind Clove, able to grab Johanna by the arm enough to throw off the path of the axe in her arm. The weapon tumbles along the rocks and into the water behind them, which results in an enraged shriek from Johanna Mason.

“Oh you stupid whore.” Johanna screams, lunging for Glimmer by the throat this time.

There’s a sickening thump as a body hits one of the rocky spokes, and by the blood curdling cry from Katniss under Clove’s knees it’s clearly Bread boy being tossed by Cato.

Alright. Cato’s got Peeta, Glimmer’s got Johanna. Marvel is after Beetee when Clove settles into the main event.

Katniss wriggles underneath her, fighting desperately to escape the grasp of the hundred-pound girl so easily holding her down.

“Gotcha.” Clove snarls, her hand wrapping around Katniss’ throat as she reaches for a small, detailing knife. “You, stupid, stupid bitch.” Clove barbs, words as sharp as the knife in her hand. “Look around, fire girl. You’ve lost. Glimmer’s drowning Johanna as we speak. Bread boy’s choking for air over there with a broken spine, one wave flips him and he’s done for. Not that you care. Between you and me, that little love story wasn’t well played. You never should have kissed him on screen if you can’t sell it. Finnick’s run off, left you to fend for yourself. It was always going to be me and you, sweetheart.” She nearly coos, running the dull edge of her knife down the side of Katniss’ cheek. “I have wanted my double cannon for you since the interviews, you know. Not that I believe for a second you’re actually pregnant, I don’t think he’s ever even touched you, but a show is a show. It must suck. Dying a virgin and all that.” Clove presses down, watching Katniss gasp as her palm cuts out her breath enough to make her whimper. “Even if I die here, at least I'm going to be remembered as the one who snuffed out the girl on fire.”

Clove raises the knife in her right hand, just as her wrist is grabbed and she is in the air. For a second she thinks it has to be Cato- who else is going to lift her like she weighs nothing–but when she has the breath knocked out of her when she slams into the metal frame of the Cornucopia she knows it wasn’t him. Clove groans as she lifts her head, just in time to see FInnick Odair pulling Katniss up and telling her to run, run down the spoke as fast as she can. He says something about meeting her in the..5 o’clock?... segment and for what it’s worth she does run.

Finnick pauses, giving them a look somewhere between desperation and exhaustion, looking for all the world like he is about to speak to them, to try to make amends. But when Cato rounds the corner, looking for him and him alone, he dives into the water and disappears beneath it.

How the fuck did they get away?

Clove rolls onto her hands, gasping for air to refill her lungs, suddenly acutely aware of the severe pain along her back where she had hit the metal. That would leave one hell of a bruise on her corpse.

“What happened, where’s the cannons?” She gasps out, leaning against the metal frame of their shelter structure and closing her eyes to try to will away the tears.. “They should all be dead where’s the–”

“They all made it.” Marvel admits bitterly, plopping down on the sand beside her with a hand holding pressure to his shoulder. “Well, other than the crazy woman.”

“The fuck do you mean they all made it?” Clove snaps her eyes open, before narrowing them at him specifically.

“Oh yeah, judge us, you’re the one who had to go on a little monologue moment and lose Katniss!” Marvel reminds her, leaning on the metal across from her. “The least you could have done was kill her considering she SHOT me.”

“You couldn’t even kill that old guy from three, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Will you two cut it?” Glimmer huffs, before she immediately collapses to sit beside Marvel. “Johanna almost got me. I thought I had her then the bitch tried to fucking drown me. And she called me a whore!”

“We’ll get her.” Clove assures, though right now she isn’t sure she’s capable of even getting a fish. “Tomorrow. We’ll get her tomorrow.”

“I thought I got twelve, I thought his spine was snapped for sure.” Cato growls, before he settles in next to Clove. He doesn’t even think about it before he pulls her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her middle when he feels her immediately melt into his chest. “That fucker got dragged off by Johanna. I was going to go after them and then Finnick showed up–”

“I got the guy from three on the leg. He’ll at least be injured.” Marvel promises, before he wraps his good arm around Glimmer’s upper shoulders. The blonde slumps against him, head resting in the crevice of his neck and shoulder.

“That was fucking embarrasing.” Clove dismayed, “We’re literally from the best districts, and we just got out of that with no kills, a near drowning, an arrow to the shoulder, probably a collapsed lung. And four bruised fucking egos.”

“They didn’t get any kills either.” Glimmer reminds, but she is fading hard and fast to exhaustion or the aftereffects of near-drowning. Her words are starting to slur and her body going limp little by little against her boyfriend, slowly but surely slipping unconscious.

“I got one!” Marvel tries to defend, but he is shaking Glimmer just a little to keep her awake. “We can’t stay here any more. They know we’re here. We’re at risk.”

“We’ll move tomorrow.” Cato decides firmly, noting how Clove is going out nearly as fast as Glimmer, the pain catching up to her at last. “We’re all dead if we try to go out like this. We move tomorrow, find a sector without bloody rain..”

“Or bugs. We found one with bugs.” Marvel reminds him, desperately trying to keep Glimmer conscious enough for the Conversation. “You’re pretty quiet over there now too, Clove.”

“I’m just thinkin-” She slurs, waving her hand off haphazardly. “Did-ya hear what FInnick said, ‘bout 5 o’clock?”

“Yeah it’s five o’clock somewhere.” Marvel tries, as if he’s going to finish a joke she’s starting off with.

“No you idiot, he said the five sections…” Clove suddenly sits up, despite the way her body desperately screams for her not to. “The 5 o’clock section..” She cranes her head around, crawling to the edge of the Cornucopia so she can see the lightning tree one last time as if it will confirm all her fears and suspicions. “One..four…six…ten..twelve- oh my god. Oh my fucking god.” Clove whips her head around, frantic to her allies, her friends and her lifelong love. “It’s a clock. The twelve— they aren’t districts, they're hours. It’s a clock. The tree, it’s midnight. Or noon. Whatever.”

“It’s a clock.” Cato repeats a few times to himself, before quirking his lip in disbelief at his wife. “You’re a genius, you know that right?”

“The blood rain, that was in the one segment. Do you think each hour is something else?”

“The bugs were in the 11.” Marvel chimes in, Glimmer long since passed out, having slumped over so much that she was laying on the ground, her head using his legs as a pillow.

“Every segment is something new. The wave is one. That haze is another.” Clove tries to walk back towards Cato, though the severe pain with standing takes her back down to her knees.

“It’s a clock we can figure out tomorrow.” Cato insists again, all but scooping up Clove to hold her in his lap again. She was in pain, clearly, but he would never point it out in front of their soon to be competition.

Time was wearing down. It was only a matter of time before the alliance had to split, too.

“We gotta get out of here, man.” Marvel groans, leaning his head back along the sheet metal. While the most obvious ‘here’ meant Cornucopia, Cato would have ventured to say there was a different kind of longing in that phrase. As if they could just up and leave the arena all together in one piece together, the four of them.

“Tomorrow.”

“Looks like we’ve got the first watch, anyway.” Marvel nods towards Clove, who has also slipped into unconsciousness now, her body curled up against the expanse of Cato’s chest.

He nods, and begins doing some mental math after a couple of cannons go off not long after. “I think there’s only what.. ten left?”

“We wanted to be dead before the final eight.” Marvel admits bluntly, running his hand over Glimmer’s somehow still perfectly curled hair in her sleep. “She doesn’t want to live in a world after this, and I don’t want to live without her in it.”

“....tell me about it.”

The day two recap confirmed their suspicions– Mags and Blight, that seven boy, died overnight– followed by Wiress at Marvel’s hand in the cornucopia. The ones from 6 died at some point since the girls fell asleep. Five more dead. Ten more total.

At some point the girls wake up with the intention to take over watch after Dinner, another generous gift from sponsors for one of the four of them.

Can you actually finish them next time? Came the unsigned note with this meal.

The impending final eight leads to a conversation that had been a long time coming, and a long time dreaded.

“We can’t split, not until that group is done for. We at least need them separated to have a shot at taking them out.” Clove admits, sharpening one of her less useful knives on a nearby stone. She hates to admit that they are a match for their very trained, skilled career pack. But it is just as dangerous to underestimate your enemies– and everyone here was a victor at the end of the day. “We have to stay together until they’re weaker.”

There's a tension in the air none of them can address. Their time is coming to an end, both as a career pack and as living people. Noone wants to be the one to throw the first knife, make the first slice to their alliance. Noone wants to be the one to kill one of their only friends.

Clove and Glimmer head out in the middle of the night, with Marvel and Cato content to sit back and watch over their stuff. The two of them run into the man from 11, Chaff maybe, practically seizing on the jungle floor. Clove holds him down as Glimmer carves their names into his chest, and Clove delivers the final blow to his chest, severed aorta pulsing out blood with every last futile heart beat.

“You know I should have ripped his throat out like Enobaria.” Clove laughs out on her way back to the Cornucopia, as Glimmer links their arms together. “Homage to my dear dear mentor up there.” Clove blows a kiss dramatically at the sky, and Glimmer just shakes her head.

“Nah, you’ve got your own signature kills. Crazy girl with the knife and all, no one's ever going to forget those things about you, Clove.”

When they return to the cornucopia the boys head out, and Clove is the one now laying with her Glimmer’s head in her lap, laughing at some bad sex story of the blonde, when Cato and Marvel practically run back, looking like they’ve seen ghosts.

The mood shifts as the girls sit up, looking them over as they pant to catch their breaths.

“What’s wrong–”

“Birds, the birds were screaming.” Marvel explains, doubled over with hands on his knees.

“The birds were screaming?” Glimmer cocks her head, though she pushes herself to her feet when she realizes something has genuinely shaken them up.

“Mockingjays I think.” Cato huffs out, though his newly tanned skin has gone sickly pale. “They sounded like my sister.”

Day 3 (Meet Me at Midnight)

“Hey, what did they take from the cornucopia yesterday?” Clove inquires as she reloads her knife vest for a long night ahead of hunting down the others. The end of the third day meant they had to get it down to the final eight in whatever means necessary. That only meant one kill- probably the guy from three. She had lost a few in the fight the day before, and had been sure to restock before they headed out.

“Uh..wire or something?” Cato tries to remember, scratching some flecks of blood off the very tip of the sword, polishing it until he could see his reflection staring back at him.

Recognition comes over Glimmer first, and she pushes herself to her feet as fast as any of them had seen her. “We need to get away from the water, now.”

“We’re moving, Glim, what’s the rush?” Clove tucks a knife into the center of her newly reformed– at the hands of Glimmer– ponytail.

“No you don’t get it, we need to move now,” Glimmer takes Marvel’s hand, and begins to tug at him, trying to pull him deeper into the woods. “That's how he won, he electrocuted everyone.”

“That's how who won?” Cato asks, though the frantic tone in Glimmer’s voice moves him with an urgency he didn’t know he possessed anymore.

“The guy from three. He electrocuted everyone..that's why there's wire, he’s going to try to fry us. We’re on the sand–”

“He’ll use the tree.” Clove realizes at the same time, moving quickly and efficiently to try to pull herself and Cato off the wet ground. “What time is it? He’ll go to the lightning tree, that's where they’ll all be.”

“It’s got to be eleven, I'd think.” Cato doesn’t argue as Clove pulls him deeper inside the treeline, clearing the sand. “We need to move fast if we’re taking them on.”

“This could be our last chance– they have to be splitting soon, Fire girl isn’t a team player.” Marvel points out, craning his neck to look towards the tree a few slices down. “We have to work fast.”

“Take them by surprise.” Glimmer agrees, looking at the three of them over. “They may not be together anymore, but we are.”

“...if we get split up where do we meet back up?” Marvel is the one to ask. It’s a moment of truth. Separation could be a natural end to their alliance. It could be the formal beginning of the end, if they chose to let it be.

“The cornucopia. We meet back up there, if we all make it out alive after this.” Clove decides, taking the plunge to decide to maintain their alliance a little longer, not quite ready to sacrifice this friendship yet.

“At midnight. We meet at midnight.” Cato agrees, looking down at Clove with a nod.

“Meet up at midnight.” Marvel echoes, before Glimmer chimes in with finality.

“Back together at midnight! Oh! That will be your birthday, won’t it Clove?”

“Yeah..I guess it would be, huh? Maybe I'll see twenty for a few hours, after all.”

The four of them move in synchronicity, heading towards the quadrant with the big tree. At one point Marvel nearly trips over a rock, earning a laugh from the rest of them. For a moment, and only a moment, they look like a regular group of friends, stumbling home after a long night out. As if they did not know that for some (or all) of them this could be their last midnight.

They round the corner into the jungle as they broach the 12 segment, and immediately the tone shifts.

There are no more laughs or jokes about Marvel’s two left feet, only the sound of their boots crunching the foliage beneath them. They manage to transform from a pack of hyenas into stealth hunting predators effortlessly, as if they had been doing so their whole lives (they had).

It’s Marvel who sees them first, who raises an arm in the direction of a shining cord weaving through the underbrush.

Cato is the one who feels a sudden rage that Glimmer was right– that bastard really was going to try to fry them like a coward.

He flashes Clove a smile, which she responds with a cocky raise of her eyebrows

Showtime.

Cato brings his sword down on the copper wiring, severing it, and sending the ends flying below them. When they peak down beyond the hill a shining axe flies their direction and Clove is the one who calls the wielder first.

“She’s fucking mine.” Clove hisses, chasing her down over the hillside, running full speed after the girl.

“Not if I get her first!” Marvel calls out, following only a few steps behind Clove. Johanna was his, if for no other reason than the whore comment she had directed towards Glimmer the day before.

Cato is about to go after Clove, not to let her out of his reach, when Glimmer calls his attention.

“Come on, Fire girl’s going that way!”

Cato follows only a step behind Glimmer, on the heels of Katniss Everdeen.

When they reach a clearing they see her pause, and nearly take their moment.

When they see Beetee twitching on the ground, they take pause. Clearly his own plan had turned on him.

Katniss makes some decision that has her aiming an arrow at Finnick, and they wait. Let her kill him. Let her take that blood from their hands before they take hers on their own.

Finnick utters something about “Remember who the real enemy is,” and they see Katniss in a split second change her intention. She’s wrapping a coil around her arrow, no longer aiming for Finnick.

She must know they’re there, that's who the real enemy has to be, right?

“Get her.” Glimmer hisses to Cato, at the exact moment that Katniss sends an arrow flying upward, the arena flashes white, and everything goes black.

Post-Midnight

Cato woke up to screams before. That’s nothing unusual in the academy. Punishment started early, and if you did something to deserve it well… physical punishment was completely okay, if not expected, in training for the games.

Screams from a girl though, that was unusual.

Screams from a girl, screams that were so distinctly not from Clove, screams that were full of anger, and guilt, and despair, no those were not from Clove.

Screams that were an agony of heartbreak rather than physical pain, well, that could pull him out of his sleep.

If you could call it sleep.

Cato felt like he was fighting cinder blocks in his eyelids, his body, his muscles, his very bones begging him to stay down and sleep.

When he tugs on his arm, he realizes there's something attached to it. Adrenaline takes over as his eyes fly open, ripping whatever needle and tubing is in his arm out. Someone was drugging him, and even if it were the Capitol, he wanted nothing to do with it.

The effects of the medicine wear off quickly once they are no longer being infused, and Cato is able to center more firmly on the agonized cries of someone, some girl, who was most certainly not Clove.

He pushes himself to a standing position, stumbling a bit, before he steadies himself and walks along the wall, standing just out of the doorway to get a listen as to what’s going on.

“You left them! You left them to die!”

“We had no choice–”

“Why didn’t you leave me with him!”

“Trust us, we had no intention of bringing the two of you along, but Plutarch here thinks you could prove useful.”

“They’ll kill them over this–”

Glimmer. She is the first voice he recognizes. It is her agonized cries that woke him– they left someone..but who is they and who is someone.

He decides to look around the corner, for some bearings on where he is.

Finnick is holding Glimmer back, as she claws both at his arms and her own, blood dripping and mingling on the floor at their feet. Haymitch Abernathy is there., and god dammit that man from three is still alive, along with some other random men he does not quite recognize but also cannot entirely say are foreign to him.

“Cato!” Glimmer cries, kicking harder against Finnick’s legs. “Cato, they left them!”

“Left who? Where are we, what’s going on?” He steadies himself along the table, the after effects of that sedative leaving his head reeling.

“Welcome to the Revolution.” Haymitch snarks, waving his hand around. “We don’t want you two here either, cupcake, but you may end up useful–”

“Rebellion? Useful to who?” Cato growls, lifting his head to catch Glimmer still thrashing in Finnick’s grasp, “let her go.”

“Cato, listen, they left them in the arena. Katniss blew it out and they took us and left Marvel and Clove in there, Snow’s going to get them!” Glimmer is pleading for him to understand something he is not able to process right now, absolute, pure fear in her voice that he had never heard from the woman before.

“Okay! They’re safe then there, we weren’t involved! They know that, they know we’d never be involved in this, Glimmer, they’re safer there…” Cato reasoned– of course they’d be safer, not in some crack show of a rebellion with a bunch of treasonous assholes.

“Cato, you don’t get it! We’re here! We look involved!” Glimmer pleads, digging her nails into Finnick’s arm to get him to let her go, twisting in some of the wounds she has already created.

“....you took us.” Cato realizes slowly, snapping his head up to Plutarch Heavensbee, head game maker, himself. “You made us look involved.”

“They’re going to kill them Cato, or they’re going to hurt them.” Glimmer explains, finally, as it falls into place for Cato.

Rebellion.

The head gamemaker.

Glimmer’s screams of pure, unadulterated fear.

They left them.

They left her.

“You left her to die.” Cato realizes, all of a sudden seeing nothing but angry, pulsating red. At the same time Glimmer breaks free to bring Finnick Odair to his knees with a kick to the side of one, Cato lunges at Plutarch Heavensbee.

“You fucking left her to die.” He wraps an arm around the Gamemakers neck, and at the exact second Glimmer lets out another helpless, desperate sob, his entire world fades from burning red back to black.

#clato fanfic #arwbfb tag #always remember we're burned for better tag #cato and clove #thg fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #glimmer and marvel #thg careers tag #besties being besties one last time #winky face #it's been a long time coming

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patriotsnet · 3 years

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What Percentage Of Republicans Are On Welfare

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/what-percentage-of-republicans-are-on-welfare/

What Percentage Of Republicans Are On Welfare

Democrats Return The Favor: Republicans Uninformed Or Self

Republican States Are Mostly on Welfare

The 429 Democratic voters in our sample returned the favor and raised many of the same themes. Democrats inferred that Republicans must be VERY ill-informed, or that Fox news told me to vote for Republicans.;;Or that Republicans are uneducated and misguided people guided by what the media is feeding them.

Many also attributed votes to individual self-interest whereas GOP voters feel Democrats want free stuff, many Democrats believe Republicans think that I got mine and dont want the libs to take it away, or that some day I will be rich and then I can get the benefits that rich people get now.

Many used the question to express their anger and outrage at the other side.;;Rather than really try to take the position of their opponents, they said things like, I like a dictatorial system of Government, Im a racist, I hate non-whites.;

Average Spending Of Welfare Recipients

Compared to the average American household, welfare recipients spend far less money on all food consumption, including dining out, in a year. As families with welfare assistance spend half as much on average in one year than families without it do, there are some large differences in budgeting. Families receiving welfare assistance spent half the amount of families not receiving welfare assistance in 2018.

The Gop Push To Cut Unemployment Benefits Is The Welfare Argument All Over Again

The White House is on the defensive over accusations from Republicans that expanded federal unemployment benefits, which were extended through Sept. 6 as part of Bidens $1.9 trillion coronavirus relief package, are too generous. The GOP argument is that people receiving the $300 weekly benefit have little incentive to return to work. The criticism from Republicans has gotten louder in the wake of a disappointing jobs report.

Its an argument that echoes similar claims conservatives have been making about government assistance programs for decades that people are taking advantage of the system in ways that allow them to collect checks while sitting back and relaxing.

As Washington pays workers a bonus to stay unemployed, virtually everyone discussed very real concerns about their difficulties in finding workers, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell said Monday. Almost every employer I spoke with specifically mentioned the extra-generous jobless benefits as a key force holding back our recovery.

But Democrats counter that millions of Americans need that money to get by. More than 20 million jobs were lost in the early months of the pandemic; 10 million American workers are currently unemployed, the Labor Department says.

Democrats say the sudden demand for more workers from businesses is outpacing the number of workers that can get back into those jobs, especially since many schools arent fully open, and many workers cant afford child care.

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The Politics And Demographics Of Food Stamp Recipients

Democrats are about twice as likely as Republicans to have received food stamps at some point in their livesa participation gap that echoes the deep partisan divide in the U.S. House of Representatives, which on Thursday produced a farm bill that did not include funding for the food stamp program.

Overall, a Pew Research Center survey conducted late last year found that about one-in-five Americans has participated in the food stamp program, formally known as the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. About a quarter lives in a household with a current or former food stamp recipient.

Of these, about one-in-five of Democrats say they had received food stamps compared with 10% of Republicans. About 17% of political independents say they have received food stamps.

The share of food stamp beneficiaries swells even further when respondents are asked if someone else living in their household had ever received food stamps. According to the survey, about three in ten Democrats and about half as many Republicans say they or someone in their household has benefitted from the food stamp program.

But when the political lens shifts from partisanship to ideology, the participation gap vanishes. Self-described political conservatives were no more likely than liberals or moderates to have received food stamps , according to the survey.

Among whites, the gender-race gap is smaller. Still, white women are about twice as likely as white men to receive food stamp assistance .

How Democrats And Republicans Differ On Matters Of Wealth And Equality

A protester wears a T-shirt in support of Bernie Sanders, an independent from Vermont who is part of … a group of Democrats looking to beat Trump in 2020. Photographer: John Taggart/Bloomberg

If youre a rich Democrat, you wake up each day with self-loathing, wondering how you can make the world more egalitarian. Please tax me more, you say to your elected officials. Until then, the next thing you do is call your financial advisor to inquire about tax shelters.

If youre a poor Republican, however, you have more in common with the Democratic Party than the traditional Wall Street, big business base of the Republican Party, according to a survey by the Voter Study Group, a two-year-old consortium made up of academics and think tank scholars from across the political spectrum. That means the mostly conservative American Enterprise Institute and Cato were also on board with professors from Stanford and Georgetown universities when conducting this study, released this month.

The fact that lower-income Republicans, largely known as the basket of deplorables, support more social spending and taxing the rich was a key takeaway from this years report, says Lee Drutman, senior fellow on the political reform program at New America, a Washington D.C.-based think tank.

Across party lines, only 37% of respondents said they supported government getting active in reducing differences in income, close to the 39% who opposed it outright. Some 24% had no opinion on the subject.

Also Check: Democrats News

Bases Of Republicans Antidemocratic Attitudes

shows how Republicans antidemocratic responses in the January 2020 survey were related to education, political interest, and locale. These relationships provide only modest support for the hypothesis that allegiance to democratic values is a product of political activity, involvement and articulateness, as McClosky had it . Although people with postgraduate education were clearly less likely than those with less education to endorse violations of democratic norms, the overall relationship between education and antidemocratic sentiments is rather weak. Similarly, people in big cities were only about 5% less likely than those in rural areas to endorse norm violations, while people who said they followed politics most of the time were about 7% more likely to do so than those who said they followed politics hardly at all. Given the distributions of these social characteristics in the Republican sample, the most typical antidemocrats were not men and women whose lives are circumscribed by apathy, ignorance, provincialism and social or physical distance from the centers of intellectual activity , but suburbanites with some college education and a healthy interest in politics.

Social bases of Republicans antidemocratic attitudes.

Key indicators of latent dimensions

Political bases of Republicans antidemocratic attitudes

Translation of ethnic antagonism into antidemocratic attitudes in Republican subgroups

Welfare Accounts For 10% Of The Federal Budget

Many Republicans claim that social services expenditures are crippling the federal budget, but these programs accounted for just 10% of federal spending in 2015.

Of the $3.7 trillion the U.S. government spent that year, the largest expenditures were Social Security , health care , and defense and security , according to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities .

Several safety net programs are included in the 10% spent on social services:

Supplemental Security Income , which provides cash support to the elderly and disabled poor

Assistance with home energy bills

Programs that provide help to abused and neglected children

In addition, programs that primarily help the middle class, namely the Earned Income Tax Credit and the Child Tax Credit, are included in the 10%.

Don’t Miss: How Many Registered Democrats And Republicans Are There

At Least 60 Afghans And 13 Us Service Members Killed By Suicide Bombers And Gunmen Outside Kabul Airport: Us Officials

Two suicide bombers and gunmen attacked crowds of Afghans flocking to Kabul’s airport Thursday, transforming a scene of desperation into one of horror in the waning days of an airlift for those fleeing the Taliban takeover. At least 60 Afghans and 13 U.S. troops were killed, Afghan and U.S. officials said.

Welfare Spending By President And Congress From 1959 To 2014

Republicans’ Facts About Welfare Are “Not Factually True”

America faces many problems today. The current economic recovery has been the slowest since the Great Depression, the national debt has surpassed $18 trillion, and the federal government continues to spend more than it collects. While its not unusual, unethical, or unconstitutional for the federal government to operate with deficits at times, the question is why does Washington continue to overspend? Is there a legitimate reason or is it neo-politics? In this article, well take a look at spending on welfare programs during each presidents term from J.F.K. to Obama. Well also look at the party in control of Congress. Which one was the biggest spender as it pertains to welfare programs?

The Dark Side of Social Benefits

Politicians love to sing their own praises and for a very good reason. Otto von Bismarck, the first Chancellor of Germany, made an astute political observation in the 1880s when he stated, A man who has a pension for his old age is much easier to deal with than a man without that prospect. Bismarck openly acknowledged that this was a state-socialist idea and went on to say, Whoever embraces this idea will come to power. Thus, the strategy of using legislation to gain votes was forever embedded in the political landscape.

Welfare Spending

Lets take a thorough look at federal welfare spending from 1959 through 2013. The following graph includes spending for two data points:

Democrats in control: 13.7%

Republicans in control: 3.5%

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What Is Governments Role In Caring For The Most Needy

Nearly six-in-ten Americans say government has a responsibility to take care of those who cannot take care of themselves. Do these views vary depending on whether the respondent has personally benefited from a government entitlement program?

These data suggest the answer is a qualified yes. Overall, those who have received benefits from at least one of the six major programs are somewhat more likely than those who havent to say government is responsible for caring for those who cannot help themselves .

When the analysis focuses just on just the respondents who have received benefits from at least one of the four programs that target the needy, the gap between entitlement recipients and other adults increases to eight percentage points .

Some larger differences in attitudes toward governments role emerge when the results are broken down by specific program, though in every case majorities of both recipients and non-recipients affirmed that government has the obligation to help those most in need.

For example, nearly three-quarters of those who ever received welfare benefits say government has a duty to care for those who cannot care for themselves. In contrast, less than six-in-ten of those who have never been on welfare agree.

Similar double-digit gaps surface between non-recipients and those who ever received food stamps and Medicaid .

How Come We Are Red And Blue Instead Of Purple

Republicans to live outside of urban areas, while Democrats tend to prefer living inside of urban areas.

Rural areas are almost exclusively Republican well strong urban areas are almost exclusively democratic.

Republicans also tend to stress traditional family values, which may be why only 1 out of 4 GLBTQI individuals identify with the GOP.

63% of people who earn more than $200k per year vote for Republicans, while 63% of people who earn less than $15k per year vote for Democrats.

64% of Americans believe that labor unions are necessary to protect working people, but only 43% of GOP identified votes view labor unions in a favorable way.

The economics of the United States seem to have greatly influenced how people identify themselves when it comes to their preferred political party. People who are concerned about their quality of life and have a fair amount of money tend to vote Republican. Those who have fallen on hard times or work in union related jobs tend to vote for Democrats. From 2003 to today, almost all of demographic gaps have been shifting so that Republicans and Democrats are supported equally. The only true difference is on the extremes of the income scale. The one unique fact about Democrats is that they are as bothered by their standard of living as Republicans tend to be.

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States Have Shifted To The Right

Democrats are floating a plan to tax stock buybacks.

Even excluding health insurance which some experts argue should not count people in this patch of Appalachia draw between a fifth and a third of their income from the public purse.

Perhaps the politics of welfare is changing up to a point. Democrats made big gains this year in elections for the House and several statehouses, running largely on the promise that they would protect the most recent addition to the safety net: the Affordable Care Act, including the expansion of Medicaid in many states. But championing the safety net does not necessarily resonate in the places that most need it.

Take Daniel Lewis, who crashed his car into a coal truck 15 years ago, breaking his neck and suffering a blood clot in his brain when he was only 21. He is grateful for the $1,600 a month his family gets from disability insurance; for his Medicaid benefits; for the food stamps he shares with his wife and two children.

Every need I have has been met, Mr. Lewis told me. He disagrees with the governors proposal to demand that Medicaid recipients get a job. And yet, in 2016, he voted for Mr. Trump. It was the lesser of two evils, he said.

About 13 percent of Harlans residents are receiving disability benefits. More than 10,000 get food stamps. But in 2015 almost two-thirds voted for Mr. Bevin. In 2016 almost 9 out of 10 chose Mr. Trump.

Program Goals And Demographics

Larger group differences emerge when the results are broken down by age and income levelsdifferences that are often directly related to the goals of specific benefits programs.

For example, adults 65 and older are nearly three times as likely to have received an entitlement benefit during their lives as those adults under the age of 30 . Thats not surprising, since nearly nine-in-ten older adults have received Social Security and78% have gotten Medicare benefits. Both programs were specifically created for seniors with age requirements that limit participation by younger adults.

Similarly, Americans with family incomes of less than $30,000 a year are significantly more likely as those with family incomes of $100,000 or more to have gotten entitlement help from the government . Again, this difference is not surprising, as assisting the poor is the primary objective of such financial means-tested programs as food stamps, welfare assistance and Medicaid.

Also Check: Why Do Republicans Wear Blue Ties

Which Party Are You

The average Republican is 50, while the average Democrat is 47.

55% of married women will vote Republican.

GOP candidates earn 59 percent of all Protestant votes, 67 percent of all white Protestant votes, 52 percent of the Catholic vote, making them a Christian majority party.

Only 1 out of 4 Jewish voters will support Republicans.

If you are white and have a college education, there is a 20% greater chance that you will be a Republican instead of a Democrat.

American Republicans have been found to be among the most generous people on earth, and not just financially. Republicans also provide more volunteer hours and donate blood more frequently.

Here is what we really come to when it comes to political party demographics. It doesnt matter if youre a Republican or a Democrat. What matters is that everyone is able to take advantage of the diversity that makes the United States so unique. Instead of trying to prove one way is the only correct path, both parties coming together to work together could create some amazing changes for the modern world. Until we learn to compromise, however, the demographic trends will continue to equalize and polarize until only gridlock remains. If that happens, then nothing will ever get done and each party will blame the other.

Taking The Perspective Of Others Proved To Be Really Hard

The divide in the United States is wide, and one indication of that is how difficult our question proved for many thoughtful citizens. A 77-year-old Republican woman from Pennsylvania was typical of the voters who struggled with this question, telling us, This is really hard for me to even try to think like a devilcrat!, I am sorry but I in all honesty cannot answer this question. I cannot even wrap my mind around any reason they would be good for this country.

Similarly, a 53-year-old Republican from Virginia said, I honestly cannot even pretend to be a Democrat and try to come up with anything positive at all, but, I guess they would vote Democrat because they are illegal immigrants and they are promised many benefits to voting for that party. Also, just to follow what others are doing. And third would be just because they hate Trump so much. The picture she paints of the typical Democratic voter being an immigrant, who goes along with their party or simply hates Trump will seem like a strange caricature to most Democratic voters. But her answer seems to lack the animus of many.;;

Democrats struggled just as much as Republicans. A 33-year-old woman from California told said, i really am going to have a hard time doing this but then offered that Republicans are morally right as in values, going to protect us from terrorest and immigrants, going to create jobs.

Recommended Reading: Did Trump Say Republicans Were Dumb

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triangularjuice · 4 years

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Remember? -A Pokémon Story-

Chapter 13: Lumiose

Clouds pass by your window as you stare out at the vast ocean beneath you. Wingulls glide through the air, soaking in the warm sun above. The sunlight reflects off the ocean waves, creating a beautiful crystalline shine. You turn away from your small window and lean back in your seat. Earlier in Aether Paradise, you told Ash and the Professors that you remember your home in the Kalos region and that Professor Sycamore is your father. You were expecting them to be thrilled, but instead they were all... confused.

"I wasn't aware that Professor Sycamore had any children," Kukui had said as he glanced over at his wife, "We're not really close friends, but we professors stay in touch to compare research."

"Yeah, I met Professor Sycamore when I travelled around Kalos," Ash piped up, "I never saw you at his lab, and he never said anything about you either."

You had hesitated, not really knowing what to think, but you had asked Ash how long ago his adventures in Kalos were, and when he told you they were fairly recent, you figured your dad just didn't want to talk about his missing daughter. Everyone seemed to go with that, but you could still tell Professor Kukui and Burnet were hesitant.

So now here you are, sitting next to Ash and Kukui on Skarmory Airlines flight #131 headed for Lumiose City in the Kalos region. You're sitting by the window, with Ash to your left in between you and Professor Kukui. Professor Burnet wanted to come more than anything, but she had work obligations that held her back. You two shared your goodbyes before you boarded the plane, promising to keep in touch.

A voice over the intercom system suddenly disrupts your thoughts.

"Good afternoon everyone, this is your Captain speaking. We will be approaching the Lumiose City Airport in about 30 minutes."

In that moment, your stomach drops when you realize what's about to happen.

You're going home.

Taking a deep breath, you look down at Cato and Pikachu playing with each other at your feet. Watching Cato, your mind wanders to what it's going to be like to be home again.

'Will it be weird?'

'Will any of the lab Pokémon remember me?'

...

'Will anything ever be the same?'

These thoughts filtered through your mind, causing knots to form in your stomach. Ash must've noticed, because he tried to make you feel better.

"It's going to be so great to get you back home, (Y/N)," he says, smiling. "You don't have anything to worry about! Right, Professor?" You both look over at Professor Kukui for reassurance, but he's out cold, snoring the ride away. You give Ash a weak smile, trying your best to calm your nerves. You reach down and grab your backpack from underneath the seat, trying to find something to distract yourself with for the remainder of the flight.

~~~~~

Stepping out of the airplane, you take in your surroundings. You see the huge skyline of Lumiose City, people rushing around trying to get where they need to go, and Pokémon wandering everywhere.

"Huh.." you mutter to yourself, a little concerned.

"What is it?" Ash questions you, apparently noticing your confusion.

"It's just... It's different than I remember," you say quietly.

"Well, maybe you were just too little and you remember it differently," Kukui suggests. You frown and look over at him.

"I was twelve," you retort. Kukui pauses, unsure what to say.

"Oh.. well, um, then maybe it's just been a little too long since you've been here. I'm sure it'll feel the same when you spend a little more time in the city," he quickly recovers.

"Yeah.. you're probably right..." you say quietly, gazing back at the large city as you make your way down the steps. The five of you start making your way into the depths of Lumiose. Kukui takes the lead, followed by Ash and Pikachu, and then you and Cato take up the rear. You look down at Cato, and he seems to be feeling the same way you are.

"Does any of this feel the same to you?" you whisper to him, making sure the others can't hear it. Cato shakes his head, letting out a small sound of worry.

"Yeah, it just feels... different. Like it's a whole different city," you say quietly. As you turn a corner, you see a young girl climbing on a Gogoat at a signpost. Perplexed, you stare at her, and she takes off down the road. Looking at the sign, you can read a label that says "Gogoat Shuttle".

Is that some sort of... taxi? With wide eyes, you look down to Cato, who has the same expression on his face.

"I definitely don't remember that," you whisper. Ash and Kukui don't seem bothered by it at all, so you keep your mouth shut. After a few more strange minutes, you all turn onto South Boulevard. The Sycamore Pokémon Lab is just down the road.

The closer you get to the lab, the slower your pace becomes. Your stomach is filled with Butterfrees, and you can't help but feel slightly nauseous. When you finally make it to the front steps, you stop, unable to move any further. Ash and the Professor notice your sudden absence behind them, and they stop to look back at you.

"(Y/N)... you okay?" Kukui asks gently. You don't say anything, you just look at the ground with a worried expression.

"Hey, I know this hard, but just think about your dad in there," Kukui says as he kneels down to eye level, putting both hands on your shoulders. "He's been missing you for almost two years. If he knew you were outside right now, he would be out here faster than an Abra could teleport!"

You give a small, breathy laugh out of your nose, smiling lightly.

"I know you miss him. You've come so far and done so much to get your memories back," he says gently, "So, what do you say?"

You look up to his face, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes.

"Let's get you home," he smiles at you. Your head bobs up and down, nodding at his words. You find the courage to walk up the steps and ring the doorbell. You take a deep breath, and the door opens after a few moments to reveal a young woman wearing a white lab coat.

"How can I help you?"

~~~~~

Augustine Sycamore is sitting at a small desk in his laboratory working on his bi-weekly report when he hears a knock on his door. He sluggishly brings his hand to his forehead, rubbing it as he closes his eyes.

"Yes?" he says, drowsily. He hears the door open, but he doesn't move to look at them.

"Uh.. sir? There's someone here to see you," the assistant states. Sycamore brings his hand back down to the desk and looks up at the young woman. He probably looks like a mess, with his unkempt hair and dark, disheveled clothing.

He doesn't care.

"Who is it?" he tiredly asks.

"I'm not sure, but it seems important," the woman says.

Sycamore sighs as he gets up from his desk and follows the woman out of the laboratory, not bothering to put on his lab coat that's hanging on the door.

***

Chapter 14: Double Trouble

#pokemon #pokemon x reader #professor sycamore #professor kukui #professor burnet #ash ketchum #professor sycamore x daughter!reader #dad!sycamore

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

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I Choose You

Written by: @wendywobbles

Prompt 51: Katniss E, the Valedictorian of Panem High school, is perfect in all fields of life. And that is the crush of awkward, average in studies, not so popular, never had a girlfriend, often bullied Peeta M. Not only does she have a very popular friend circle but also a handsome, popular boyfriend Gale H. Will she even want to be his friend? Is his crush doomed to fail? Eventual Everlark) [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

AN: I hope I did your prompt proud. The title comes from a Sara Bareilles song that I love.

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Peeta Mellark walked quietly in the door and leaned against the wall at the school assembly. He hated these things. Being trapped here for an hour while Principal Trinket droned on and on about what was coming up in the next semester was hell.

They had just returned from their autumn break and Peeta was counting the days down until this last year of school was finished. His experience in Panem 12th Region school had been long, dull and miserable.

Not for the first time he wondered if his dad had lived how his life would have turned out. Would he have been a popular jock with lots of friends and confidence instead of a feeling like a ghost in these hallways? He hoped college would be different. As far as he knew none of the dicks from his year would be attending Capitol U.

He had no idea what Trinket was talking about but he became aware the second the speaker changed……Katniss Everdeen was at the podium and saying hello to everyone. Instantly he paid attention.

Katniss Everdeen was in Peeta Mellark’s eyes the most perfect woman to ever walk the earth. She had long dark hair, clear olive skin and grey eyes.

She was a distance runner for the Panem 12th Region Athletics team. She trained hard , Peeta knew this because he had often seen her running in the early hours of the morning when it was his early shift at the Bakery or sometimes he would see her on the trails when he was out running she always had a smile and wave for him as they passed.

Her grades were always high, again Peeta knew this was down to hard work and not just luck.

Sometimes he would see her at the library when he was hiding out avoiding Cato and the other Jays and his maths whizz brother Leon had been tutoring her since last year.

She has a quiet confidence, and strength that just drew people to her and had a wide circle of friends but would make time for everyone whether it was a quick hello or a longer more in-depth chat. It was no wonder when she ran for student council she was elected president.

With a confident smile the object of Peeta’s affection began to speak

“Hi all! Hope everyone had a wonderful break, I know I did. Principal Trinket has given me a few minutes of the assembly today to talk about our Winter Formal. This year we are looking to do something a bit different and we are hoping that you guys will help us come up with a theme. This is the last 12th Region dance some of us will attend and we would love to make this something a bit special, but right now our ideas aren’t hitting the mark and I know that there are so many talented and creative individuals here so we’d love to hear from you.”

She looked behind her and Annie Cresta, her Vice President, handed her a cardboard box covered in silver paper. She held it up for all to see

“Okay, I know this probably looks a bit basic but this box will be left in library until next Friday. If you have an idea put it in. We will then post the suggestions online and then we can vote for our favourite. Easy right? I can’t wait to see what people come up with.”

“Thanks for listening and don’t forget Friday is the big Game against D13’s Coin Cavaliers and once again the 12th Region’s very own Mockingjays are out to destroy them. Show you school spirit by wearing black and orange. Go Jays!”

All around Peeta students began to cheer, he just rolled his eyes and slipped quietly away.

*********

For the rest of the day school was buzzing with excitement for the game and Katniss announcement. Peeta was glad when his final class was over and headed to his locker to collect his bag.

“Hey Bread Boy” called Johanna Mason, a short shaved head girl that somehow had become one of Peeta’s closest and dearest friends

“Yes Jo?”

“So are you making any suggestions for the Winter Formal? I’ve got mine in – Roller Disco with night vision goggles. Great, huh?”

“Seriously Jo? I mean while I can certainly appreciate the theme, how exactly would a person fund all those glasses……” he smiled.

“I’m the ideas woman, the reality is her ladyship and her minions area of work…speaking of which. Anyway I gotta go, see you later handsome “ and with that Jo sprinted away.

Peeta looked up and saw Katniss Everdeen walking down the corridor. She was carrying an armful of books, a bag and a bottle of water, had an apple wedged in her mouth and her shoe lace was beginning to open on her ever present black Cons. Peeta was thinking how this looked like an accident waiting to happen when Katniss reached up to take the apple out of her mouth, stepped on her now undone shoe lace and tripped herself up sending everything flying.

“Katniss! Oh my god are you okay?” Peeta was by her side in a flash and quickly helped her right herself.

Surprisingly she burst out laughing “Oh my god! I can’t believe that just happened. Thanks Peeta, I’m ok.” He started to help her pick up her stuff when Gale Hawthorne appeared.

“Katniss? What happened? You ok?” concern was all over his features.

“Fine, fine I tripped Peeta was just helping me collect my stuff.”

Gale nodded but proceeded to take the books Peeta had in his arms “Well I’m here now. Mellark you can …go do whatever it is you do. I got this.”

Peeta felt his face flame but kept his mouth shut previous experience had thought him that answering back to people like Gale usually ended up badly for people like Peeta.

“Sure. Whatever” he mumbled and moved to step away.

Katniss meanwhile shot Gale a glance that would have felled a lesser man, but Peeta imagined as Katniss’ boyfriend Gale was probably used to her looks so he just ignored her.(Imagine being able to ignore Katniss thought Peeta)

“Thanks again Peeta. Hey before you go, do you have the details of the English assignment? I can’t find where I wrote it down.”

“Sure, hold on” Peeta rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a notebook. He pulled out a sheet and copied the details onto the paper for her.

“Ummm here you go” he said handing it over.

“Katniss? Are you ready I’ll carry this stuff to your car” huffed Gale.

“Go ahead I’ll be right there. I just want to check something with Peeta” She called without looking at Gale.

“I’ll wait.”

“Dunderhead�� muttered Katniss under her breath so that only Peeta could hear her, keeping her voice low she began to speak “Um I was wondering if you were going to submit any ideas for the dance. When we were kids I remember you always had a great imagination.”

Peeta blinked and stared and Katniss “Um no. I don’t….I mean I’m not interested in that kinda thing you know. I’ve never even been to a school dance.”

“Oh…right. Sorry I just, I guess I’ll see you in class or something.” Katniss seemed embarrassed and Peeta wanted to die. This was how he spoke to the girl of his dreams….Leon was right he was an idiot.

As she turned to walk away he called after her “Wait! I may not have an idea but um I’m pretty good at art and design maybe,I mean if you needed it, I could help you guys work on pulling it altogether?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That would be fantastic! I know you’re headed to Capitol U next year to begin a Fine Art Degree so absolutely we would love your help.” Katniss smile was a mile wide as she said all this.

“Ok. Well keep me posted. Oh and Katniss you should probably tie your shoelace” Peeta smiled and her and began to walk away. It was only as he turned the corner he realised something. He had never mentioned getting into Capitol U …how had Katniss known that?

********

“So what did you need from Mellark?” asked Gale.

“Gale you were standing right there when I was talking to him - English homework and he’s offered to help with the dance.” said Katniss taking her bag from Gale. She reached down to grab the apple that she dropped and popped it in a bin as she walked by.

“Help how? Loser never goes to anything school related.”

“So? What has that got to do with anything? And he’s not a loser. Look Gale we need help with this dance and I’m happy to have someone like Peeta come on board-“

Gale cut her off “ Ooh I get it now, you get the nerdy runt to do all the work and you take the credit.”

“Shut up Gale. When have I EVER treated anyone like that? I can’t believe you would even think I would do that.”

“Oh relax, it’s High School not the real world.”

Sometimes Katniss goody two shoes attitude really annoyed Gale. Kill or be killed that was Gale’s motto(not literally of course) but sometimes you had to be ruthless on and off the field.

“Let me make it up too you… how about a movie?”

“Can’t I have to get home to help dad. I’ll round up the gang maybe we can all go see something on Saturday?”

Frustrated Gale rolled his eyes before responding “Katniss I meant …..”

Katniss knew exactly what he meant and after going out a few times two years ago, Katniss wasn’t going down that road again, Gale however still thought they were perfect for each other and was always trying to get her to agree to a date.

Katniss blundered on pretending not to have heard him “It’ll be a fun way for everyone to relax after Friday’s game. I’ll text everyone later unless you want to do it?”

Gale clenched his jaw frustrated at Katniss he wanted to say something more when his phone rang. It was Cato.

“I’m late for practice. Talk to you later” and Gale took off running towards the sports field.

A grateful Katniss watched Gale sprint away, glad of the reprieve from his hints and outright declarations that they would make the perfect couple.

She hopped into her car and got ready to head home, when out of the corner of her eye she saw the hunched figure of Peeta Mellark walking out and heading towards town, she watched him til he was out of sight.

There was something about Peeta that made Katniss want to get to know him better but the blue eyed blond boy kept himself to himself. She had has crush on him since the first day of school when he drew her a picture of her teddy bear.

She smiled recalling how upset she was being separated from her bear and was missing him something terrible on her first day. Seeing her tears Peeta had marched up to her pencil in hand and asked her what he looked like and under her guidance had drawn a pretty good depiction of Snowball Abernathy.

Katniss still had the drawing; her dad had laminated it years go and she used it as book mark. The bear was also still knocking around, slightly bedraggled, more grey then white these day but still loved.

She sighed remembering a time when they were younger and Peeta was much more open. It all changed when his dad died though he seemed to retreat from childhood.

********

Katniss knew from Peeta’s older brother Leon that it hadn’t been easy after Mr M had died.

She had met Leon when her parents hired him to help her with her maths. Leon was like a skinnier less good looking Peeta. He was in college locally hoping to be a teacher and he loved maths and tutored a few kids.

As Katniss and he worked together they became more friendly.He was kind and funny and talkative.

When Katniss got accepted to Capitol U to study Engineering she was overjoyed and then Leon told her Peeta had been accepted to CU too.

“That’s amazing! What program? I wonder if we’ll run into each other. That would be cool.” Katniss gushed. She was practically vibrating at this piece of news.

And had completely forgotten who she was talking too. She couldn’t stop the blush that crept up her face.

Leon felt a grin spreading over his face “Careful Everdeen or I might think you have a crush on my baby brother……oh my god you do!!!”

That was a few weeks ago and Leon kept encouraging her to talk to Peeta and teasing her that if she let the year pass without saying anything he would tell Peeta before graduation.

Katniss knew though her secret was safe. Leon was very protective of Peeta, and from what Leon had told her-and what she knew from the past herself and gossip- the death of Mr Mellark had hit the whole family hard.

The oldest Mellark brother Sean had taken over running the place full time (this had always been the plan but the death of Sean Snr meant things moved a lot quicker). He quit full time college and moved home.

Leon and Peeta helped out but right after her husband died Mrs Mellark seemed to “disappear” leaving Sean 20, Leon 16 and Peeta 13 to carry on.

The older boys tried to stay on top of everything.- the house, the business, school even dealing with their mom- but their home life was chaotic following in the weeks following their fathers death.

It was a lot to cope with, and they tried to do it all without any help - scared that if they let people know what was going on their family would be further torn apart.

Katniss remembered when Peeta came to school in the same hoodie for 5 days –not really a big deal but Cato Snow grabbed this and began to tease Peeta.

“Hey Smellark. Don’t you have any CLEAN clothes?”

His goons soon joined in for weeks whenever they could get Peeta alone they went at him, they pushed him, squirted hand sanitizer on him, threw water on him.

Some of the other kids tried to tell Cato to stop but no one wanted to make themselves a target so most just ignored what was going on. Katniss did too, and the memory still pained her.

It all came to a head one Monday afternoon Peeta finally snapped and swung at Cato. Peeta may have been quiet and smaller then the others but in the past number of weeks a fire had raged in him.

This particular Monday Cato had decided that Peeta needed a hair cut and got Tom Marvel and Derek Blight to hold him down and started to hack at Peeta’s hair.

It was the final straw for Peeta, to this day no one knows exactly how he did it but Peeta got loose and punched Cato busting his nose, the sight of the blood caused Marvel to flee. Blight wasn’t quick enough and Peeta managed to leave him with a black eye. Peeta picked up his bag and left the school vowing to never return.

While this was going on, an anonymous tip off was left with a children’s care charity begging them to check on the Mellark’s. A young case worker Finnick Odair took the call and hearing how distressed the girl in the end of the call was decided to make a house call.

He met a shaken, tattered Peeta at the house on the front step.

“Hey kid? You ok?”

And for the first time since his dad died and the bullying began Peeta cried and his story just tumbled out

Finnick met with the rest of the family. Mrs. Mellark was very obviously depressed, the boys were grieving but had no time to process everything that was happening as they desperately tried to keep things going. A decision was made to contact Mrs Mellark mother, Sae.

She arrived in a day and scolded her grandsons for not calling her sooner and hugged the life out of them.

She sought out her daughter and held her close as she wept and wept.

Then the five of them sat on the sofa together and Sae told Finnick she was sticking around for as long as was needed and he helped her to find the help her family needed.

Peeta however refused to talk about what had happened and wouldn’t confirm the bullying. He hoped by keeping his mouth shut Cato would leave him alone. (It hadn’t. Although Cato no longer actively sought him out he still tormented him)

When Peeta returned to school a few days later people seemed to give him a wide berth the story of his Hulk like anger had scared people. It made him sad.

When he went to his locker he found a bag there and inside was a paper dandelion, a packet of coloring pencils and notebook.

Peeta was confused and wary but the yellow flower was the first thing he remembered seeing in color; since his dad died life had just been grey. He smiled, just a small one but somehow this flower made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time -hope.

********

On Friday the school was buzzing. Peeta had on a black tee shirt and orange cons showing his school spirit.

He had noticed Katniss that morning in her black skinny jeans, a Jays orange jersey, black oversized cardigan, in her braided hair there was an orange ribbon and on her feet a pair of orange cons. He smiled when he saw them.

He was just slipping to class when she called him

“Hey Peeta! Look we’re foot twins.” She bounded over to him and stood toe to toe with him. His heart was pounding.

She pulled out her phone “Can I take a picture?” and she aimed her camera down before clicking a few snaps.

“I think yours look better” she smiled and looked up at him, suddenly aware how close she was to him.

“I’m sorry Peeta I’m such and space invader” she stepped back “like I was saying yours look better, they have that lived in Cons look, mine are brand new they need breaking in. I’m gonna put this on Instagram, want me to tag you?”

“Why? Why would you tag me? I mean we’re not exactly friends, besides I don’t think Gale or his friends would appreciate any part of me appearing on your feed. I have to go Katniss.” Peeta smiled sadly and walked away.

Katniss couldn’t understand what she had said or done but she quickly deleted the post.

********

When the dance committee opened the silver box they found a good deal of papers, half though were filled with utter rubbish- crude drawing, bits of gum wrapped in the paper and some downright dangerous suggestions -roller skating with night vision goggles???

The most surprising thing was that even though the students had been given free reign most were standard dance ideas. According to Delly Cartwright this was because despite claims to want to express themselves and be individuals most teenagers just wanted to blend in and follow the herd, and in the end there were only five familiar themes to choose from.

1. Winter Wonderland/Snow Ball /Yule Ball

2. Once Upon a Time(Fairytales and stories)

3. Enchanted Forest or Magical Garden

4. Candy land

5. Masquerade Ball

Students were just handed a ballot paper and asked to vote for their favourite and with the result revealed at the following weeks assembly.

The winning theme in the end was the Enchanted Forest, and Katniss was secretly thrilled. Now the theme was picked it was time for the hard work to begin, and time to see if Peeta was ready to join the dance committee.

********

Peeta and Jo were sitting on one of the benches outside the school when Katniss walked over.

“Hey” she called

Peeta waved, Jo gave a nod.

“Peeta, if that offer to help out with the dance is still on the table the dance committee is meeting tomorrow after school to get things moving. I was wondering if you’d like to come along and get an idea of budget, how we can pull off the theme and if we can actually make something out of nothing” Katniss joked.

“I don’t know Katniss-“ but before he could finish Jo interrupted

“He’ll be there. What time and can I help too? My dad owns the forest out past Turn 4. He might be able to help with some stuff for decoration.”

“Ok, well we be in Room 17 from about 4 pm and Jo it would be great to have more help. I’ll leave you guys to it then. Bye”

As she walked away she missed the glare Peeta threw at Jo and the grin that spread across her face.

“What? You have been crazy about her for years. Now’s you chance to woo her” grinned Jo

“She has a scary boyfriend or did you forget that? A boyfriend who has no issue with beating a guy like me and might I add he has the connections to dispose of me where no one can find me.” He muttered darkly

“I dunno I know what people say but, I don’t think they are a couple….. anyway never mind that it’ll be at least one fun memory we’ll have of going to this place before we head to Capitol.”

********

Over the next few weeks Peeta’s life and routine took on a different one. The initial meeting of the dance committee had been nerve wracking but the other members, along with Katniss made him and Jo feel very welcome.

Peeta was wary at first but there was no punchline, he wasn’t a joke to anyone and surprisingly he started to enjoy the meetings.

The other members Annie Cresta, Thom Dalton, Brian Turner or Beetee as he was known, Delly Cartwright and Cecelia Hubert were a mixed but fun group.

“Hey Peeta, can you take a look at this?” Katniss called

“What’s up?” he asked.

“This…. I think I did it wrong…..it looks..” they two of them tilted their heads looking at the mess in front of them Katniss was supposed to be making centre pieces from twigs adorned with lights, and flowers.

“I think you’ve glued things on upside down, it’s okay we’ll fix it” he tried not to laugh. Katniss was the least crafty person he had ever met.

“I like the arch way, you’ve made it look really spectacular, it will make the entrance look so special. You have really helped us to set the theme, you and Jo.”

“Well you know us art nerds” Peeta mumbled as he undid some of Katniss handiwork.

“I don’t….but I’d like too” Katniss whispered in a low voice.

Peeta didn’t dare to look at her but kept going with what he was doing. He wasn’t sure what to say. He took a deep breath and prepared to ask her what she meant when suddenly the door burst open and there stood Gale, Cato and the other Jays players.

Gale was wearing what looked like doctors scrubs while the others were dressed in tacky sexy nurse outfits that no nurse in their right mind could wear and work in.

“Hey Katniss”

Peeta would swear he felt Katniss stiffen beside him, then she took a deep breath and turned to look(along with the rest of the room)

Gale unravelled his sign which said “I’m no doctor but it appears you’re suffering from DATELESSNESS. My suggestion is…..” meanwhile the rest held up signs that read “A date with Gale?” And “What more could you want?” And “A dose of Vitamin G!”

“No!” she shouted and the laughter and shouts of the Jays stopped.

“Just no! I told you this last night, the night before. You NEVER listen to me? I don’t want to date you or even go to the dance with you. I’ve tried being polite but it’s gotten me no where, please leave me alone and stop this. I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t want to be. Just stop”

“You selfish b-“ Gale started towards Katniss but Peeta stepped in front of her.

“I wouldn’t take another step or utter another word Hawthorne. Just take your guys and go. Or would you like me to call Miss Trinket?” Peeta’s voice was low and calm. Thom and Beetee had stood up too and walked towards Katniss and Peeta.

“Or what Smellark?” spat Gale.

“Funny, real funny but I think after 4 years you guys could have gotten a bit more creative with your insults. Cato, why don’t you take Gale and the guys and leave. Katniss has refused Gale’s offer, there is nothing else to be said.”

In the crowd of guys a few looked angry but others just looked confused about what had gone on. Had Gale really been hassling Katniss? He made it sound like she had wanted this big fuss but what if she hadn’t? The team started to move away and soon the room was cleared.

“Umm thanks guys…now where were we?”

“Hey Everdeen, I thought that guy was your boyfriend?” asked Jo confused by what had happened.

“Nope. Never was, never will be. He’s never been my type” Katniss smiled

“Interesting…..and would you type maybe be a little less male perhaps?” teased Jo much to the amusement of the others

“Sorry Jo, I’m not into girls, but I do know that Delly happens to think you are real cute.” And with a shocked squeak from Delly the whole committee burst into giggles.

Once everyone had settled down Katniss walked over to Peeta.

“Hey Peeta? Thanks for what you did for me with Gale. I don’t know why he has to act like that you know?”

“Katniss it’s ok really. I’ll walk you to your car after we’re done here if you want? In case he’s still around.”

“Thanks, but I should be ok. Right I better get these to Annie.” She nodded her head at the closed box in her hands that she had picked up from somewhere.

“What’s in it?

“Flowers! I may not be much good at making centerpieces but if you need a paper flower I’m your girl” she grinned as she said this “open the box and have a look.”

Peeta’s stomach dropped when he opened the box there were daisies, roses and right at the top yellow dandelions like the one given to him all those years ago.

“Peeta? Are you ok?” a worried Katniss asked.

“Yeah. Sorry just zoned out. These are really pretty. I better get back to the trees.”

Peeta worked quietly for rest of the hour to trying to figure out why Katniss had given him the flower all those years ago and the pencils and notebook which became his companions. In the notebook he drew his fears, his hopes covering every page and when it was full his mom bought him a new one. Even now he always had a notebook in his bag.

“Peeta? Can I give you a lift home?” asked Katniss Peeta startled at her voice he looked around and was slightly shocked to see they were the last people there. He hadn’t heard the others leave.

“Ok.” He shrugged and gathered up his stuff.

“Katniss? Can I ask you something?” Peeta was nervous but he needed to know why she did what she did.

“Sure.” She nodded

“After…. the Cato incident there was a paper flower and art stuff left in my locker. Did you do that?”

He watched her hands tighten around the steering wheel and she took a deep breath before she answered.

“Yes. I just wanted to give you something nice you know. Those guys were so mean and the rest of us should’ve done more, told the teachers. I watched you almost disappear and I hated that the light in your eyes dimmed so much. Your family was going through so much.”

“You were just a kid Katniss,it’s ok. Really. We got help. As a family we’ve survived. What else could you have done?” He reached over and put his hand on hers, it was awkward in the car but he wanted -no needed- her to know that he was ok.

“Your flower gave me hope, gave my life some color at a time when I had none. Thank you for seeing me, at a time when I felt no one did.”

“I always saw you Peeta.” She was looking at him now Peeta wanted to look away her gaze was almost too intense.

“You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You are the noisiest walker I have ever heard. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.”

“I know these things because I’ve always watched you and yes I know that’s crazy and I sound like a stalker but I need you to know this because we’re going away to college soon and I would like to at least be your friend but what I really want is to know you better and Leon knows and he told me that if I didn’t tell you I liked you he would.”

“Slow down… what?”

“I like you. A lot. Your stupid brother found out and has been teasing me. He said he would tell you before I could especially since we’re going to be at the same college next year. If you just want a friend that’s fine but I would really like to go on a date so you could get to know me…. and then…..well who knows….”

“Okay.”

“Okay like let’s go on a date or like I’m going to get out of car and run away?”

“The first one.”

**********

And so they had their first date 2 nights later.

And their first kiss that night too.

Peeta asked Katniss to be his girlfriend on their third date.

They went to their dance together and danced under the canopy of trees and flowers they had helped create.

They had their first fight when Peeta struggled to understand what a girl like Katniss saw in him. He questioned why? He kept expecting things to fall apart and doubted what they had was real.

Eventually his mom took him aside and told him that his problems were bigger then him and a professional would be better placed to help him.

“You deserve happiness Peeta,let us help you find it.”

He started seeing Dr Aurelius with Katniss, his family and friends supporting him every step of the way.

He told Katniss he loved her one evening when they were in her parent’s house. They were watching a stupid movie and she was laughing. He watched her eyes crinkle, her chuckles ringing in the air as she sat there in a panda onesie and he blurted it out.

She smiled at him and throwing her arms around his neck she told him the same, placing tiny kisses all over his face.

And then they graduated. The one person who didn’t was Cato Snow who was expelled following a positive drug test and several reports of bullying.

Gale never spoke to Katniss again.

A few of the Mockingjays team had apologized for their part in the dance proposal telling Katniss they had believed Gale when he told them that it was her idea.

Neither wanted to go to the end of year dance, instead they went with some of their friends to a small cabin by a lake and had a quiet celebration.

And later, in the quiet of the night after they had spent time having their own private celebration. Katniss sang to Peeta

Let the bough break, let it come down crashing

Let the sun fade out to a dark sky

I can’t say I’d even notice it was absent

‘Cause I could live by the light in your eyes

I’ll unfold before you

Would have strung together

The very first words of a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose you

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose you

I choose you, yeah

There was a time when I would have believed them

If they told me that you could not come true

Just love’s illusion

But then you found me

And everything changed

And I believe in something again

My whole heart

Will be yours forever

This is a beautiful start

To a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose You

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose You

We are not perfect we’ll learn from our mistakes

And as long as it takes I will prove my love to you

I am not scared of the elements I am underprepared,

But I am willing

And even better

I get to be the other half of you

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose You, yeah

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose You

She had just finished and Peeta was about to say something when Johanna shouted.

“Seriously?? It was bad enough listening to you two screwing each other senseless now I have to hear you sing?! Keep this up and you’ll have to find a new roommate!”

After their laughter subsided Peeta turned to Katniss and whispering quietly he said.

“I choose you too. Always.”

#Springtime Edition 2020 #wendywobbles #white-dandelion-seeds #prompt 51 #early submission #submission

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