#i was thinking about this being before she becomes an avox??

[ofgentleresolve]

deva ( @uroborosymphony ) ur girlfriend is calling <3

“It suits you,” Aeri says, hand gliding over the skirt of Deva’s gown. Her fingers trace over the silhouette of Deva’s legs. Her girlfriend’s stylists picked it out and wouldn’t let Aeri convince them otherwise, no matter how much of a fuss she made. It was rude of them, really, not letting someone who actually knows Deva’s tastes have some input, but then again, that’s also just the way people in the Capitol are. It’s either their way or the highway.

( Aeri also will ignore the fact that designers are possessive over the final look. )

“Not completely,” she continues with a clear note of disdain. At least she's careful not to crease the fabric. “But good enough. I would have picked something better for you.”

[tonixe]

Hiya babes hope you’re doing well I’ve had this idea for a young Coriolanus Snow where he’s fresh into his presidency and runs into a maid in his room putting his clothes away. He thinks it’s just some avox but it turns out to be and old classmate (she was in the grade a year younger than but he’d seen her passing in the halls and she came from quite a respectable lineage). He becomes infatuated by her and why she’s working for him and not living some life of luxury, it becomes months worth of cat and mouse where Coryo tries to buy her love with gifts and she tries to stay strong. But finally she gives in and they start an affair (he isn’t married it’s just he wouldn’t want to be caught dead having a relationship with a servant girl). Normal he just tells her he wants to see her and that night they do an assortment of nefarious things, but one night he asked her to say instead of kicking her out like he usually does. She thrown off by this and after a little hesitancy she agrees.

So that’s all I really have feel free to make the rest up, but also don’t feel obligated to write about this it’s just something that’s come to my mind. I didn’t mean for this to be so long sorry. Love you loads hope you have the best of days and I hope you’ll find inspiration from this prompt. Okay kisses and hugs this is me signing off.

— Dirty little secret

WARNING: Unprotected sex, implied mudpie, fingering, implied affair, groping.

PAIRING: President!Coriolanus Snow x maid!reader

WORD COUNTER: 1.8k

Days for Coriolanus seemed to tick on longer than he bargained after getting elected and inaugurated to the office of Panem. Being the President of Panem wasn't a joke, nor did it have any time to just sit around, he was a busy man with a country behind him and leading the future of his people and generations. It was tiring for him, sometimes he would just accidentally sleep in his office rather than go to his bedroom. After piles of documents and papers were placed on his desk, finding more time to complete them if he locked himself away in his office.

On top of that, he had to make speeches and host future events. He just didn't have any time for self-pleasure with all the work on his desk, but he was dutiful and a studious worker. He did his usual routine after finalizing some paperwork and handing it off to his secretary to press. Dragging his feet against the delicate and pleasant tiles, tiredness drowned his vision, as he opened the door of his chamber spotting a dainty maid in his room. Your eyes widen at the sight of the President in front of you, immediately bowing down, before lifting your head slightly up. "Mr. President, I was just delivering your clothes" You curtsy at him, Coriolanus originally thought you were just an avox until you spoke, but now a mere maid hired by his secretary but once he got a glimpse of your face, a flash of simple memory ran through his mind. You started taking steps away from him trying to get away from the brewing tension, "Stop" You turned your body to him, looking at him with your full attention.

The sounds of the heel of his shoes on the bedroom flooring, feeling his soft hands on your jaw, slowly lifting your head up, taking in the scene of you. You held your breath as he simply inspected you, feeling your heart pumping against your chest. His azure eyes stared into your own, for a moment..before he withdrew his hands away from you. "You may go" he finished, you watched as he turned his body away from you before you scurried out of the bedroom.

But Coriolanus couldn't help but look back at you as you ran away, the sense of familiarity when he saw you was haunting his head. He pondered about it, putting his hand underneath his chin as he thought about you. The passing days were just Coriolanus watching you as you worked around the manor, his eyes never leaving your form. He managed to gather some information on you, by looking through your files, after all, he is the President of Panem it's his job to know everything, right?

His hands flipped through the dainty white pages, your headshot on the first page as he read through the private information, finding out that you were from Capitol blood, and ended up in the depths of middle class maybe even lower instead of luxury. Curiosity filled his mind about you, questions flowing through his mind with no answer to them. "What really are you..Y/N" he whispered under his breath, examining the photo of you. Most of these days were now mostly spent with him staring at you doing chores around the household, hanging up laundry, washing clothes, and cleaning the floors.

He likes how you laugh and smile when talking to your co-workers while you work. Every time he sees your smile, it makes some of his problems melt away, if he is stressed, he completely forgets what he was stressed about. He would purposely order you to his room to clean or arrange something in his office. Over a few months passing, he would continue asking for you, so adding little gifts and necklaces. For you, it was a surprise, certainly. Who expects the President of Panem to gift a simple maid a luxurious, expensive necklace, priced at a high price, more than you get paid. So you would send them off, at first you were confused thinking it was a mistake he sent the luxurious package to you, then it was sent back to you, this time a different gift, more beautiful and elegant. So you sent it back again, he began to be more curious and furious why you didn't keep and accept the gifts he sent, were they too ugly, an eyesore or indifferent to you.

So he orders you to his room...

It was the middle of the night, being pulled out of the servant quarters by the headmistress, ordering you to serve Coriolanus, and you obeyed. Your body is still engulfed in your flimsy nightgown and your flats on the floor of the manor, as you walk down the hallways. You opened the door to Coriolanus still in his attire, leaning on the bedframe. His eyes darted at you. "Mr. President, you requested of me" You held your hands together, looking him in the eyes. You hear his footsteps inching closer to you, his hands on his hips, "Do you hate them?" he asked, his eyes never leaving your frame, cocking your eyebrow, confused about what he was asking you.

"Hate, what, Sir?" you questioned, "The gifts" he walked closer to you, "Do you hate them, Y/N?" he looked at you, his eyes attentively staring at your own e/c. You felt sweat pending up on the palm of your hand as you began to clear your throat, "No—I just thought you sent them by mistake, sir" You said, you looked away from him, feeling flustered at how close he was to you. 'Y/n, do you think I'm an idiot to send something three things to the same person?" He gently lifted up your chin, making direct eye contact with you. "N-no, sir!" You exclaimed, "Then why, my sweet dove?' he questioned, "What have I done to deserve them" You mumbled,

"Every time I saw you, you have been pulling the strings to my heart..." He whispered, his deep voice resonating through your body, sending chills down your spine, you were hesitant to respond to him. The few moments of silence were unbearable, it felt like his eyes were tracking your every move. "Would it, not be improper for you to date a servant woman like me?" You murmur, and he immediately takes your face into his hands, "I will trade all of Panem just to have you in my arms" You parted your lips, staring at him in shock. Before he took your lips, kissing you. His hands touched against your skin, making you whine, his fingers slowly taking off the strings of your sheer nightgown. Immediately the cold air hits your bare skin making you moan, his hand trailing against your sides. He withdrew from your lips, his eyes clouded with lust, his pupils dilated. "W-we can't", looking away from him in embarrassment, trying to cover yourself up from his gaze.

He picked you up by your thighs, immediately putting your arms around his neck. He carried you towards the bed, dropping you onto the mattress, you instantly tried to cover yourself until he ripped your hands away as he stared at you beneath him. He took off your panties, slowly, his eyes staring at your slick coating your panties off, making you flustered. He started taking off his belt, you watched as he took his trousers off along with his boxers. His length springs out, pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock, feeling yourself getting wet underneath him. His eyes were heavy with lust, impatiently to have you, taste you, and fuck you.

He slowly inserts himself into you, a moan being ripped out of your throat, holding him by his biceps. "Itis' too big" you groaned. You tried to adjust yourself around his cock, you bit the bottom of your lip simmering the pain. Before he started moving, his pelvis smacked into your cunt as your breast bounced in impact.

You pushed your head back in pleasure as he forced himself into you, he groaned into your ear. "You're taking me so well, dove" he whispered, kissing your collarbone. The sound of wet skin clapping resonating around the bedroom, his hands moving around your body, rubbing the nipples of your breast, moaning in response. "Your so warm" he groaned, moving his hips against you, you felt yourself inching near your release.

He place your leg onto his shoulder, moving your body to the side as he thrusted inside, feeling his cock deeper inside you.

His hand groped your breast, abusing your nipples as he plunged into you deeper. Before feeling yourself coming undone, squeezing down on his cock. "Fuck" he groaned, pushing himself into you. His fingers trailing down onto your pelvis, he rubbed your clit, making you whine. Breathy moans echoed from your lips, and you looked through your lashes at him. Your walls massaging his cock, his thrust getting faster and into an animalistic pace.

His groans became frantic, as he fucked himself into you, before he pulled out and cummed onto your stomach, the white sticky load coating your body. Feeling your legs shaking, and your chest heaving. Staring at him, tiredness in your eyes.

"You did so good, dove," he said, kissing the corner of your neck.

Soon this moment happened time and time again, mostly during the nights when everyone was gone or sleeping away. He would call for you, knowing what would happen at the end of every night, you on his bed either coated with his cum or filled with it. Usually leaving before anyone can get suspicious of you and Coriolanus. Always wearing a nightgown, Coriolanus purchase for you. Looking into the mirror with the rich, satin fabric on your body, hugging your curves and bosom.

He would surprise you with special things mostly material things but you were grateful for them.

He would buy luxurious lingerie and jewelry for you. You were getting ready to meet Coriolanus as he called for you again, wearing the special red lingerie underneath nightgown, you obeyed. Walking down to his chambers, in the end, the precious lingerie was ripped and your nightgown on the floor stained with cum. His hands on your waist as he thrusted into you, he was close and you were already done and tired. His hands explored you, before he spilled himself into you. Pulling himself out of you, your legs were shaking, holding yourself up. Feeling him leaving a kiss on your cheek, he put himself into his pants.

You walked towards your discarded nightgown, taking ahold of the material, and slipping it on. There was a moment of silence between you and Coriolanus. Getting yourself busy, fixing the fabric of the nightgown, pulling it down carefully.

"Wait, Y/N" you turned around at him, "Yes, Corio" you responded, he loved it when you used that nickname with him, he walked forward to you, "Stay" he paused for a minute, "Stay with me for the night" He finishes, your eyes slightly widen. "What if, we were caught?" You whispered, "Nobody could come in without my permission, Y/N" he pushed a strand of your loose hair over your ear, "Just stay" he whispered, his hands trailing down to your waist, rubbing them in reassurance. You cleared your throat, putting your hands on his chest, and parting your lips.

"Alright—I will..."

[darlingsnow0]

Katniss avox pt 2, kinda hate it tbh but it took long to write 😭

tags: @heartforeyes

I think you wanted me to tag you? Sorry if you didn’t lmao😭

Katniss does not know how many days she’s been here, she’s kept in a white room with a bed and doctors come and check on her. Their clothing is always the same so she cannot tell if they came every day or twice or maybe even thrice. She has her mouth checked, but they always have a peacekeeper with them, she guess’s snow has told them to be wary about her bites.

Of course she doesn’t try and bite them, the peacekeepers don’t intimidate her she just has no need to bite them. They’ve given her a note book to write down responses to their questions, though they complain about how sloppy her hand writing is, she wants to say they need to take it up with President snow to get district twelve a better education system but she doubts they would take that seriously.

She’s been sedated at least three times, usually after thinking of what could’ve become of Prim, peeta, her mother, gale, his family, all of district twelve really. They say she worked herself into a panic and that it could disrupt her healing, she guesses from how much she’s tried screaming and opening her mouth. She wonders what peeta would think about this, would he console her? Yes, he would a voice in her head said, because peeta is kind and good, Prim is as well.

She’s tried to cry before, but all that’s come out is sad, pitiful animal noises. They remind her of sounds that animals she would shoot and not kill immediately make, she suppose’s that is what she is, an animal that’s been shot yet not killed. She’s seen some people try and help animals they see on the streets that are near death and in pain, ones that should be dead, that is snow but he is not doing this from the goodness of his heart by keeping her alive. He is keeping her alive so she can suffer and tear herself apart mentally and soon enough physically.

She once tried to district herself by singing, singing a beautiful ballad or maybe the hanging tree. But she could not sing, she has no tongue, she can’t sing anymore. How will she sing prim to sleep? How will she tell her stories? How will she console her if she ever gets nightmares? Is prim even alive anymore? Katniss asks herself that question everyday, what had happened to her dear prim? Sweet, lovely, and innocent prim who wanted to always help people, how was she born in panem? To a country so cruel, with rulers who could learn from her kindness.

Katniss wonders where she will work, Will she work in the sewers? Or in a capitol house? Maybe snow will keep her as an avox at the presidential mansion? Would she prefer that? Being trapped with the horrible smell of blood and roses that seemed to follow President snow wherever he goes, or would she prefer working down in the sewers of the capitol? What would she prefer? Being trapped with the smell of blood and roses or in the sewers for so many hours a day? Katniss does not know what being in the sewers is like, does she want to know what it is like?

When Katniss wakes up she is met with a loose white dress? Or a large piece of fabric with some holes, she is not cinna, she cannot tell. She puts it on and sits on her bed, and she hears walking outside the door. Then it’s opened and in walks two peacekeepers, they motion for her to stand up and she walks over. They are on either side of her as they walk down a hallway, it looks like the tribute center, she must’ve been kept in the tribute center. 

They walk past a window and Katniss see’s herself, she looks like a skeleton and her hair is messy and brittle. The sky outside is bright, and people are walking around below her, they look likes ants almost. She is shoved into the elevator and almost falls before her arm is squeezed by a peacekeeper and he drags her back up. She stands in between them both and she hears quite laughs as they both look at each other, it takes her longer then she liked to realize they were laughing at her.

They push her into a car and she watches through very dark windows as the capitol buildings pass, it reminds her of the parade. Where are they taking her? Are they taking her to a sewers entrance? The presidential mansion? Or an auction where rich capitol people will bid on her like a piece of furniture? Which would she prefer? Has she asked herself that question before? She cannot remember. Soon enough they are somewhere and a peacekeeper pulls her out of the car, the presidential mansion stands tall and imposing in front of her. She is dragged through a back entrance and sees others wearing the same piece of fabric, Katniss had decided to call it that, as her.

She is forced into a kitchen and is handed a bowl of fruits, raspberries and for a second Katniss thinks they are nightlock berries but they are regular blue berries. She is instructed to take these to President for breakfast, katniss has not eaten breakfast yet, when will she be allowed to eat breakfast? She walks through the halls, like a lost child with the bowl of fruits, the raspberries and blue berries which Katniss has decided to think of as nightlock.

 She likes to think that she is going to give President snow nightlock berries and he is going to die, another way of killing to add to her imaginary list in her head. She doesn’t know where the office is, nobody told her, they just assumed she’d know? Or was this some joke? Soon enough a peacekeeper is dragging her to snow’s office and there he is, sitting behind a nice desk, mahogany, Effie likes mahogany. He smiles once he sees her, his snake eyes lighting up in sick delight, his lips look bigger than the last time she’s seen him. She sets down the bowl in front of him and he stares at the fruits, he must recognize what the berries look like, or maybe he see’s the slight smile Katniss has realized she had while thinking of killing him. Though whatever he sees he must realize the resemblance of the berries sooner or later. Because his smile fades slightly before he shoo’s her out, and then she is taken out by the peacekeeper and instructed to clean.

That is what she does now, everyday, some days she is shoved and some days she is not. She prefers the days where she isn’t shoved though she cannot get rid of the thought that President snows lips seem bigger each time she sees him. Even if it’s twice in the same day, something else Katniss has grown to hate-the smell is always so strong-they seem bigger than the first time she saw him. 

One day, when she is waiting for the peacekeepers to come she is not met with them coming through the door but different people, in black combat outfits and helmets with vests as well. When one removes their helmet she thinks she is dreaming because peeta is standing in front of her, and she tackles him. They fall to the floor and she grips his wrist, so that she knows he is real and that it is not her imagination, she grips so hard she feels her nails leave marks but she is worried that he will be taken again if she lets go.

[margojacksonpotter]

Part in BOSAS books that should have been in the movie

-Dr. Gaul used on Avoxes for her mutation experiments, combining humans with gills, feathers, tentacles, and other animal parts. Also, Dr. Gaul spoke in rhymes sometimes which just made her character even creepier.

-When Arachne was killed by her tribute, Brandy, Coriolanus was asked to sing the national anthem at her funeral. The tributes were also paraded on the funeral while Brandy’s lifeless body swung high into a crane. It was meant as a reminder to the tributes of what would happen if they tried to resist. A few weeks later, when two other mentors were killed in the arena explosion, a hologram of himself sang Gem of Panem to their funeral as well.

- The large crowd forming in front of the arena during the Games. People dressing up their dogs as their favorite tributes. People at the zoo making the tributes do tricks for food. It was all so disgusting and just added to the horrors of the Games.

-All of the scenes with Coriolanus in the classroom. They had such deep, profound discussions about the Games, war, humanity. I can’t list all of them but the students made interesting points.

-How Coriolanus got the guitar that Lucy Gray used it in her interview before the Game. He borrowed it from Pluribus Bell, a family friend. Pluribus and his partner used to own a bar pre-war but now make a living selling items on the black market. Pluribus loved Lucy Gray and gave her a standing ovation after her interview performance where she sang. He even wanted her to headline at his bar if he ever reopened one. He kinda reminded me of Cinna.

- There were only a few microphones in the wall of the arena so most of the time spectators were watching the Games in silence. The microphones could only pick up so much sound, so they had to interpret facial expressions or body expressions to understand what the tributes were doing. I understand for the purposes of the movie they couldn’t do that but it would have been interesting to see.

-Lucky Flickerman being absolutely chaotic: being completely oblivious to Highbottom’s snide remarks towards him, doing tricks with his parrot Jubilee, Jubilee flying to the ceiling and refusing to come down because Lucky’s theatrics were too much for him, looking uneasy at Dr. Gaul who wanted to do experiments on Jubilee, giving the weather forecast when the Games were too slow and making snow related jokes at Coriolanus’ expense, getting sprayed with a fire extinguisher on camera because his sprinklers set off the alarm. The list could go on.

- Though that scene of Coriolanus saying “I was just sending water” was very funny in the movie, it did not happen in the book. Coriolanus was about to send water to Lucy Gray to fend off Jessup who was rabid with rabies. However, Lysistrata, Jessup’s mentor, insisted that she send the water because that’s what Jessup would have wanted. She and Jessup had also become very close before the Games. As she sent the water to him, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

-The Games did not end after Lucy Gray sang to the snakes. There were still five tributes left. Heavy overnight rainfall and cold weather caused most of the snakes to die in the arena. Honestly it seemed like the movie just wanted to wipe out the remaining tribute to get the Games over with.

-Reaper!! What a complex character! This is the guy who, before the Games, personally apologized to every tribute for having to kill him. And he is the only tribute who didn’t have a single kill. Instead, he formed a short alliance with Lamina, tore the Capitol flag off the arena wall ( which caused a commotion in Heavensbee Hall) and made a makeshift morgue for the fallen tributes. I think the movie did an injustice by having him die off from the snakes. He and Lucy Gray were the last two standing. Lucy Gray, knowing Reaper was starving and had contracted rabies when Jessup spit in his eye, tired him out to death when she ran off with the Capitol flag he used to cover the other tributes. Then poisoned a puddle using the compact, knowing he’d drink from it, which led to his death. He deserved to have more of an acknowledgement. All the tributes did really.

[shesasurvivor]

Hi.. Could you explain more about this?

"Actually, I've always held a theory that the parents' love triangle represents the fate of Panem in the first rebellion/the Dark Days that lead to the creation of The Hunger Games, while the Katniss/Peeta/Gale triangle represents Panem in the second rebellion."

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

Absolutely! I thought about going further into this the other night, but I was so tired that I couldn't find the energy. Thanks for asking!

The first time I read the books, I couldn't help thinking that Katniss reminded me a lot of Scarlett O'Hara because they were both survivors. In Gone with the Wind, the love triangle between Scarlett/Rhett/Ashley is meant to serve as a symbol for the South's struggle to adapt to the changes that the end of the Civil War brought about, or if it would allow itself to be overcome by its refusal to change with the times.

So with this influence in mind, I couldn't help seeing both Everdeen women as being representatives of Panem -- Mrs. Everdeen was Panem before it attempted rebellion but failed miserably. Mr. Mellark, who was from Mrs. Everdeen's old life that held considerable more comforts (even if it still wasn't great) represented what Panem was before that first rebellion. Mr. Everdeen represented the change, the possibility to improve your quality of life by just being brave enough to rebel against the status quo. Mrs. Everdeen made this choice when she chose a life with Mr. Everdeen, the man she loved, and left her life of comfort to live in the Seam. Unfortunately, just as the first rebellion ended poorly for the districts, and now had an even worse life because of the Hunger Games, Mrs. Everdeen's choice ended similarly when Mr. Everdeen was killed in the mines.

The next generation is born, and now we have Katniss, Peeta, and Gale. Katniss is what Panem has become in the story's present time. Worse than things used to be (and now we have evidence of this, knowing things were still less harsh for the districts during the events of TBoSBaS). Panem is surviving, but not thriving. And the same can be said for Katniss. Now, the love prospect from the Seam represents Katniss's status quo before the Hunger Games, and before the rebellion. He's Seam, like her, which is just about as bottom rung as you can get in Panem except for maybe the Avoxes. But it's Katniss's life, it's all she's ever known, and because it's familiar and doesn't capture the attention of anyone who can cause her or her family any harm, it's comfortable for her.

Then she goes into the Hunger Games, and along with that, Peeta, who had always been dancing around the backdrop of her life the way thoughts of freedom did in the minds of every citizen of Panem, suddenly becomes a realistic prospect in her life. Despite her defenses telling her not to do it, she can't help choosing compassion and humanity in the face of the Capitol's threats. These things are inherently, deeply rebellious to the Capitol because Snow's number one method to keep control is to keep every single citizen as divided as possible. (This is the point of his little quip at the end of TBoSBaS where he decides if he ever gets married, it'll be for power and not love.)

After her act of rebellion, with the boy who represents actual rebellion because he represents compassion and humanity and hope, she's had a taste of what life could be if she decides to go after it. Panem, too, has seen two teenagers have the absolute audacity to choose to remember each other's humanity on live TV aired on forced viewing across the nation, and suddenly they have a glimpse of this life as well. That's why the act with the berries has such a profound impact on the districts that it tips things over into rebellion.

So come Catching Fire, Katniss now has the choice: does she go towards this new rebellion, the rise against the oppressive system that's stripped her and everyone else of all shreds of what humanity they have? Or does she stay with the boy she's known her whole life, because it's comfortable and safer than the unknown of seeking what she knows in her heart she actually wants?

In the end, Katniss has no choice but to reject the old life, which is so often the case in life. But she does make the choice to embrace the new world and life, just as she made the choice to become the Mockingjay. And even though she lost every single facet of her old life in an unfathomably cruel way, we still see that in the end, she was able to find her way to a life that gives her the freedom she always yearned for. Just as Panem made the choice to fight the second rebellion, and this time succeeded in winning its freedom.

[iamrizaka]

So I thought about who could be the other winners and made a bunch of ocs

Explanation:

There were seven games with one winner each time.

In the pic it goes: the game – the winner's name – age and godly parent – who brought them

I don't have that much explanation about each of them, except the main three, but:

Darius Fyodorov

A son of Ares who has lots of insecurities resulting in superiority complex. He was picking lots of fights back in CHB, but was (and sorta still is) a nice person towards his friends. He is easy to lose temper once you call him weak or how his father doesn't care about him, giving attention to his siblings, especially Clarisse. It was his main reason to join Luke in his rebellion: to show everyone, including his father and older sister, that he's worth their praises and to be called the best.

Now he's Demeter's slave, but she doesn't spend much time in bed with him, instead preferring making him work in the fields.

Ines Hart

A daughter of Aphrodite, she is very similar to Silena. They were actually close, with Silena becoming a head counselor of cabin nine after she left. She was actually the one to convince Silena to become their spy at camp. Before Silena she was the one giving information to Luke and others, but after Thalia came back from being a tree, she had to leave camp as there were more and more people growing suspicious of her. Her reason to join rebellion was the same as Darius', but she was way less verbal about it and didn't seek praise from her mother. She was known at camp as big sister, so it was a harsh blow when she ran away.

I haven't thought out why Athena chose her, but Ines made several attempts at attacking the goddess, getting information for escape and just trying to escape, but none of it worked out. In the end, Ines gave up and decided to just enjoy the pretty clothing and tasty food she gets from the goddess. No, they don't have sex.

Myron Macías

A child of Hephaestus, he always felt inferior to his siblings, especially because of his chronic pain and how hard it makes walking for him. They would've continued to spend their time at the forges if Ines didn't offer him to continue working at the godly forges when they overthrow olympians. It still took him some time to agree, but eventually they ended up making most of the armor and weapons for the demigods in the army. And no, he doesn't have a crush on Ines, what are you saying?

Now he belongs to Aphrodite, who "takes pity on him" and spends a night with him once or twice a week. But it is followed by increased pain in the morning. And thoughts that he's sleeping with his stepmother. That's weird.

And he isn't allowed in the forges, which drives him crazy. He picks at his skin whenever he gets the need to feel the heat, the metal underneath his fingers and see the creation of a new tool.

Amelia Finch

A daughter of Demeter, she was saved from the streets by the Titan Army and ended up joining it. She had nowhere else to go after running away from an orphanage, and these people are so kind to her, although she's such a trouble. She is a curious girl, always close to one of the older demigods, asking questions about mythology and what they are doing. She was excited to meet her siblings and always made sure that they knew she's here to listen if they had a problem or just needed company.

After the fall of Kronos, she was made into an Avox, a voiceless slave, but due to so many demigods killing themselves before the last game, she and some other slaves were included in the games as participants. She still doesn't know what to think of her current situation. And being Apollo's bedwarmer doesn't help. At least her friends are here to support her and comfort her after her first night and many others.

That's all I have for now, feel free to comment!

[zenkor123]

Journal of Peeta Mellark-Peeta tries out wrestling

October 8th 75 ADD

Coin has placed new restrictions on "edible frivolties" the cartel is In negotiations with coin on cake as our newest product.She will allow the cartel to sell 20 cakes a month. Making those cakes is me, we haven't had any orders yet.

Haymitch declined a job as a siphoner in our cartel but he likes our morphling cakes. He is a great customer he is thinking of ordering a cake! Haymitch also spends time in the den.

'Haymitch was involved with the cartel?" Katniss immediately thinks as her face shoots up, she is amused by this. She knew about it before, began seeing Haymitch in the den, he also saw Haymitch with Morphling. She didn’t bother to try to make him sober again. Not only that Effie also began smoking Morphling.

I am making a new plant book for the cartel, of different types of morphling in the forest. They have a 25 year old plant book but the couriers want an update to it. More then happy to give it to them,I haven't drawn any plants before as far as I can remember.

Katniss remembers watching Peeta draw the plant book it reminded her of the way Peeta was before and she shed a few tears silently watching watching the mutt that replaced Peeta draw as if he is Peeta. Yet I watched so as to enjoy the memories of Peeta drawing the plant book.

I am going to try out a new hobby, wrestling, in District 13 there is a wrestling center in the training wing, I have plenty of time so going to try out on Monday. As a Mutt, wrestling should come naturally to me and I vaguely remember doing it in the past. I want to crush and smash and beat people up. In my first day someone tries to taser me and it feels like I'm being tickled I laugh and say it tickles. I pick him up and he is screaming like he is about to die. I throw him to the other side of the rink and put my foot on him he is screaming. After 10 seconds pass he is allowed to leave. I scare people and it feels good. They say I sound like a mix between a capital mutt and a career from district 2.

Useful memories re-emerge of my past as a wrestler. Me fighting with Rye, me fighting with Phineus, my wrestling with Hersh, Than, Bowl. My combat with Cato and Brutus. My attempt to kill Dr Jones my successful murder of Harry Thread, Romulus Threads demented brother in the capital. When the capital tried to have me prostituted I swiftly snapped the necks of of my would be 'clients'. I killed an entire family of such scum they came to the room, I killed the dad, then ripped the moms head off all in front of their teenage son who began crying and was evacuated by peacekeepers. Many avoxes did not go down without a fight many killed their masters after Snow's announcement and I saw many mutts killed by avoxes. I tried to choke Katniss. It's not desperation or human nature or whatever crap Snow said deep inside me I was always a murderer. Its time I put my repressed violence to use for the rebellion.

Katniss is sure that with all the other stuff Peeta is dealing with Snow’s attempt to traffic him like Finnick got overlooked. But how could Snow be so stupid as to attempt this. Or was he? Snow wanted to test the lethality of his mutt and used this capital family as test subjects

Here is my schedule

At 8:00 I meet with Plutarch until 9 pm, at 10 pm I begin painting some bottles and work for the victors cell continues until 4 pm or even 6 pm. Then in the evening I aid with the combat training of rebels. Lunch is at 7 AM, and I wake up at 630.

Work is often just as effective escape as morphling is, like with morphling I've become addicted to working and I love feeling useful

[petruchio]

-the hunger games, page 85

this is a fascinating little passage that appears near the start of the first book, and the importance of the avox girl in these early scenes cannot be understated. when we encounter the avox girl, we begin to explore katniss’ guilt at not showing the girl compassion when she’d had the chance, the story as she tells it to peeta, and her subsequent apology.

the line “just like i was watching the games” is noticeably and deeply significant here. at this point, katniss hasn’t even had her conversation with peeta about not being a piece in the games, and yet here, we can already see katniss independently recognizing the degree to which the games dehumanize the tributes. her comparison of her inability — or unwillingness — to help the avox girl in the woods to watching a tribute in the games demonstrates how insidious this way of thinking can become. here, even before entering the arena herself, katniss has articulated that years of watching the games made it easier for her to refuse help someone in need. what’s crucial here, is that this fact deeply disturbs her. it’s one that she carries so much shame about that she cannot even share it with peeta in her retelling of the story.

it’s notable that the story of the avox girl in the woods is one that takes place while she is with gale, and is also one of the first that she recounts to peeta in the very early stages of their friendship. it’s also notable that the one piece of the story she omits in her retelling is her inability to help the girl. here, it’s as if we can already see katniss comparing her own compassion and regard for humanity to peeta — because she remembered how he had helped her at a cost to himself when he’d had the chance, she’s embarrassed to admit to him that in a similar situation (albeit with somewhat higher stakes) she was unable to do the same for this girl. at this point in the novel, peeta has not yet even admitted to his crush — katniss is still under the impression that he helped her solely out of kindness, possibly without even knowing who she was. thus, her intentional omission of her own refusal to help the avox girl feels pretty significant here. while gale is witness — and furthermore, he is a contributing party — to all of this, it is peeta who she feels she has to hide her true behavior. in this way, we see katniss already comparing the two boys and putting their actions (or lack thereof) in conversation with each other.

but what’s especially fascinating here is that she does make an effort to apologize to the girl. in fact, she tries multiple times. while she still holds a great deal of guilt over her inaction in the past, she makes a decisive effort to show the girl humanity and compassion in the present. she’s had time to reflect on her actions and feel shame over them. but rather than ignoring this and simply accepting peetas excuse of thinking the avox girl looked like delly, katniss instead makes a decisive attempt to acknowledge her pain and apologize for the hurt she may have caused — and as we know, the girl will go on to forgive her for it. although there is nothing she can functionally do to help her now, katniss refuses to excuse herself from showing this girl compassion now that she has the chance. easy as it might be to just forget about the whole thing and pretend it hadn’t happened, she doesn’t let it go. katniss still tries to show her kindness.

katniss’ manner of recounting the story to peeta, which is one of the first private, full-length conversations they have, tells us a great deal about her character and how she views herself (and gale) in comparison to peeta. her guilt over her inaction in the woods, coupled with her admiration of peeta and her desire to mirror the kind of compassion he once showed her, as well as her insistence on somehow showing the avox girl compassion as soon as she has the ability to do so, are all crucial character beats that form a background and context for a great deal of her behavior and many of her choices going forward.

[caesarflickermans]

the thg series is filled with interesting characters who have captured our imaginations. do you have any headcanons about a character from the series who was not given a last name? (ex: cato, thom, portia, etc). could be from any of the four books. 😀

Well, first thing I had to do was look up on wikia to see which characters only had first names so I guess that tells you plenty about how many first-name-only characters I focus on. Whops! And as per usual, it’s going to be Capitol characters.

Let's start with Cressida, Pollux and Co. Along with Messalla's comments on the apartments, I headcanon all of them to have originated from middle class with Cressida being the most well off and Pollux and Castor's family having experienced a fall from grace with Pollux becoming an avox. This, treachery, being one of the main reasons why families will fall down the social ladders.

In addition, I picture them to have met in the Capitol before they left to 13. As they are a film crew, and as the only show we truly know being Caesar's, I have headcanoned them as having met as part of Caesar's crew. My personal views here are that Caesar usually keeps a similar crew between the Hunger Games show and his (my HC) own "Late Night" show, hence them having grown acquainted with different types of live television. Those are valuable skills they obtained before fleeing to 13 (maybe when freeing Pollux?).

This connection of them with Caesar fits neatly into the throwaway line that "Cressida and Pollux have been sent out into the districts to cover the wreckage of the war". Meaning, Caesar is the one interviewing people to document what is missing and while Cressida directs and Pollux handles the camera work. I think it would be a fitting fate to Caesar, alas, he has a surname so I shall not elaborate.

There's some loose thoughts I have about Cinna's joining to the rebel cause. Why and when he chose District 12 and when exactly he was aiding the rebellion has remained a mystery to us, but I imagine those two as being related. I do not think it is any coincidence that Cinna suddenly was District 12's stylist. I think much of his motivation, as he himself admits, was based on having volunteered. He might have known exactly what he was doing and for what purpose.

There are some ideas about him potentially having known Tigris, and while this generally appeals to me for the fact that we know Tigris was in contact with Cinna, I think this might have been more the connection between an already fallen Tigris who took on an apprentice in her craft when she already owned her secondhand shop. Eventually, Tigris might have introduced Cinna to Plutarch.

Cinna might be a great guy, but he was certainly more scheming and knowing than Katniss (or we) give him credit for. We perceive many of the adult characters—Snow, Coin, Plutarch, sometimes Haymitch, too—as forces manipulating Katniss and removing her own agency and place in the rebellion. However, most certainly, Cinna was among those adults as well. We don't know his intentions, but he certainly knew more about what he was doing and what effect it would have. Katniss simply perceived him as kinder and more willed to listen to Katniss as a person than many other adults in the book series.

[everlarkficexchange]

Silence Worth A Thousand Words

Prompt 56: Peeta wasn’t highjacked in MJ. He was tortured, but not set against Katniss. After Peeta’s warning to D13 he receives the punishment for treason: he becomes an avox. [submitted by @kiinghanalister]

Rated: K

Written by: @mellarked-katnisseverdeen or @albinokittens300

“So, do I get any last words?" 

"It’s funny you say that, Mr. Mellark.” Snow chuckles. “You won’t be dying today, that I can promise you. However, as I’ve said, treason will be punished. Warning an enemy of an attack…I find that the highest betrayal. As for you’re last words, if it were me, I’d say them now.”

Several nurses in brightly fluorescent colored smocks come to his either side. One begins preparing a syringe, and his blue eyes bulge, realizing what is happening.

“You won’t be able to speak them again.” Snow finishes. 

________________

Peeta wants to scream, to wail when they being to poke and prod him. 

Apparently, these people are from District 13, who still existed and were aiding the Districts rebellion. They tell him he had been rescued, that Katniss is here with Finnick and Haymitch. The doctors tell him his body is all sorts of beaten and broken as if he didn’t already know that or feel it. Peeta wants to push them away, tell them to stop digging into his muscles and strapping things to him. The thing he wanted more than anything was to sleep.

He can only make disagreeing noises, which did nothing but encourage them to hold him more still. 

It isn’t till a beautifully familiar voice rose about all the chattering of doctors and nursed did he get some measure of peace. Katniss could be heard before she is seen, and eventually, she pushes her way through the crowd till he sees her. 

“Let me through! I have to see him, please. Move, let me see-” She stops when she finally gets close to the bed, and his blue eyes lock on her grey ones with desperation. He’s scared and can’t tell anyone anything, and she is the only one here who seems to read it. “Peeta…Peeta!" 

Then he’s wrapped up in her arms and almost falls back when her entire weight barrels into him. But he spares no time in latching on to him just as tightly, and for a moment, the only thing he can think, feel, or hear is Katniss hugging him, standing in the same room with him, and eventually, kissing him. For a moment, he is slightly confused. But he seems to know she needs this, just as much as he does. 

Pressing back, he returns her kiss and, for the first time in a long time, gets a small thrill in hearing her sigh. 

That’s when the moment ends. 

"Miss. Everdeen, no! Please stop.” A doctor almost forces Katniss away. “His tongue has been removed…before there is any kissing, we need to assess how badly his wound could be infected." 

"His tongue, but-” Katniss looks at him more quizzically, and he looks away but nods. “An avox…they made you an avox. ” She says to no one. Tears well up; he goes to hold her, but the doctors again try and pull her away. Their words are null and void though, as she leaves, she tells keeps a grip on his hand as long as she can before being pushed out.

__________

Waking up, he lets himself be relieved that the doctors have finally seemed to leave him be. 

But Peeta feels very quickly that he isn’t alone, and when his eyes open, an exhausted Katniss is sitting on the side of his bed. Both hands wrapped around his. Her grey eyes light up when she notices him moving around, though, and she leans closer to him. 

“Peeta!” She embraces him again, and Peeta decides if this is one of the dreams he had in the Capitol, he doesn’t mind. When she pulls back through and runs her hands through his hair, it feels so real any doubt disappears, and though he isn’t sure how she feels, he leans into the comfort she is offering. 

“I-I’m still getting used to this.” She laughs and cries. “I was convinced you were dead, Peeta. That Snow killed you for warning up. Coin said it was useless, trying to save you, but you’re here. Peeta, you’re here. You have to know Peeta; they left you in that arena, not me! Since you’ve been gone, I’ve-”

He makes a noise, an ugly one, but it is sufficient to stop her rambling. There’d be time for explanations later; for now, he wants to just have her here for the moment. 

It seems to remind her of something, though, and she leans over, picking something up off the ground. Revealing a notebook and pen. 

“Since you can’t speak right now, and it will probably be a while till you learn…thought this would be useful, for when you need to tell someone something.”

He almost cries at what she is offering. Snow had taken his ability to use the words he had used before, and Katniss was restoring it to him. Without a second, he moves it to the side and embraces her again, and Katniss melts into it also. 

Soon, they seem to fall into a familiar pattern and make themselves comfortable enough to sleep. Peeta takes a closer look at the pad of paper Katniss had brought him when he wakes up. Before, he hadn’t realized it already contained a note, signed by the girl still sleeping beside him.

I know things are confusing, but I can’t explain how much I’ve missed you. This time I’m going to stay by you, Peeta. I promise.

Love, 

Katniss.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Okayyyy here comes the next chapter ! Number .... lemme look. Okay, number six! 🥳🥳🥳

And yes, my thoughts as usual will be a messy, very Everlark-biased and full of typos. Letsss gooooo 🥰🥰🥰

Is this the first time Katniss and Peeta have been to their floor or is this just the most opportune time to explain and introduce the Tribute Center living quarters?

Also why are they called tributes anyway? That word suddenly seems weird to me after nine years... 🤔🤔🤔

“I've ridden the elevator a couple of times in the Justice Building back in District 12. Once to receive the medal for my father's death and then yesterday to say my final goodbyes to my friends and family” .... 😶😶 so only good memories and connotations to elevators then, huh?

“The walls of this elevator are made of crystal so that you can watch the people on the ground floor shrink to ants as you shoot up into the air.” My mind is just imagining the elevator in Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone’s Spider-Man movies 🤗.

“It's exhilarating and I'm tempted to ask Effie Trinket if we can ride it again, but somehow that seems childish” this is so cute and innocent omg. Katniss, like I said in my last chapter blog, still has some childlike innocence left in her 🥺🥺🥺. I’m a sad.

Also excuse the unnecessary extra gif use but 🤭🤭🤭

Oh wow, so Haymitch hasn’t been around since they were on the train? No wonder neither Katniss nor Peeta fled they could trust him for basically the entirety of the first book. 😐😐😐

You know it’s bad when Effie being around feels like a blessing to Katniss. Girl has more restraint than me, I’d have ripped off this woman’s janky wig by now without remorse. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

Effie acts like they’re her purebred show dogs. I know I know how is this news, that’s a blatant fact. The movies really softened her up tho for the general audience. And I bleed the movies and books together more than I should 😔😔😔

Well at least she’s made herself useful, trying to get Everlark sponsors ... even if it’s ultimately to benefit herself above anyone else .... 😤

Effie calling Twelve barbaric while she’s preparing them for the slaughter isn’t even ironic it’s like literally just brainless. Johanna probably had the nickname floating around for a lot of people before she officially knighted Katniss with it 😭

“Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district.” Is this how they refer to Twelve? So basically if a district makes a better item, it’s a more worthy one in the Capitol’s eyes? So essentially, if District Eight made like diamonds or pearls or whatever then it would be more worthy? So are the districts assigned their numbers (one, two, three, four, etc) based on their order of importance to the Capitol’s lifestyle? I always thought it was based on their distance in relation to the Capitol? Okay so I didn’t really pay much attention to these facts previously when I read these books ok look away I’m an idiot

Omg 😭😭😭😭 Effie is such an idiot. But the coal turns to pearls thing is my favorite line from her only because it serves as the cutest inside joke when Peeta makes a callback to it in Catching Fire and Finnick is just like “why are these two teenagers so stupid who did I ally with? 🥵😳🥵😳🥵”

“I wonder if the people she's been plugging us to all day either know or care.” After reading Songbirds and Snakes, I’m sure they don’t have a clue, boo. 😑😑😑😑 although not everyone was an idiot back then ... maybe Snow is putting lead in the drinking water?

“But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary.” I know she’s trying to help and I know we say this kind of thing today, but considering this is two kids she’s well aware will be heading into a death match this is just bad wording I know surprise surprise 🙄🙄🙄😬😬😬😬

“Although lacking in many departments, Effie Trinket has a certain determination I have to admire.” Katniss really does see the best in people. What’s sad, y’all, is I think Katniss unconsciously really tries to like people and that’s why she has her guard up so high. Because the softer you are, the easier people will step all over you. Terrible phrasing here, Samantha, I’m so sorry to any of my readers ... okay now that sounded arrogant, implying I have readers 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤣😅🤣😅🤣😅

“My quarters are larger than our entire house back home.” Omg? I mean, yes, I knew this already obviously no duh but like also. Just the fact that three people live in a space smaller than a bedroom and bathroom arena is saddy sad sad. Also do they have indoor plumbing in the Seam or is their backyards just full of—okay, I’ll see myself out. 😶🤭😅🙃

“The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred options you can choose regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges.” I’m just imagining a Spongebob scene ngl.

I’m sorry there’s so many gifs this time around it’s probably taking us out of the reading headspace I’ll never do it again 😩😩😩😩 I talk like I have a class of people listening to me 🤭🤭🤭

“Instead of struggling with the knots in my wet hair, I merely place my hand on a box that sends a current through my scalp, untangling, parting, and drying my hair almost instantly” I need this someone invent this NOW my brush is yanking out my hair 😔😩

“I program the closet for an outfit to my taste.” ‘Yes, Alexa, I’d like a hunting jacket, some boots and a green shirt. Yes, it can be brown.’

“You need only whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouthpiece and it appears, hot and steamy, before you in less than a minute.” I like this idea because it means that Peeta could order hot choccy to comfort Katniss after her nightmares in Catching Fire from the comfort of her their own bed. 🤗🤗🤗 also I want this for myself. The bad people are giving my greedy self ideas look away everyone 😬

“I walk around the room eating goose liver and puffy bread until there's a knock on the door.” 🤢🤢🤢🤢 Of everything you could have chosen, child, this is what you decided on? Someone help my girl and her rotten tastebuds now.

“Effie's calling me to dinner. Good. I'm starving.” Baby, you were just eating. She’s so nutritionally messed up. 😔😔😔

Katniss trying wine 🥳🥳🥳 she’s so funny, trying to find a way to improve the taste 😅. She’ll make a good taste tester for her baker husband one day.

Hahahaha Katniss not liking the feeling and judging Haymitch for always being tipsy. Also this is sad because she ends up addicted to morphling later one which is far worse than a little wine.

I’m glad to know Baked Alaska survived the apocalypse 😅🥳

Katniss just constantly trying to decipher the recipe of every meal and how to recreate it reads cute on a surface level but it’s actually so tragic because everything to this girl is based around food. Like even more than is typically noticed. They really should have given a hint at this in the first movie. Good thing she marries a man who can always keep her full.

I’m just forever side-eyeing you, Gare Bear.

That’s Gary Ross for the confused kids in the back.

Why does Katniss yelling mid-sentence, “oh! I know you!” add to her innocence? 🥺 it’s because she was overwhelmed by all the food and new luxuries she’d never even been able to imagine ... and also this is pre her first games so she’s still got some childhood left in her 😩😔

I wonder how Lavinia felt seeing Katniss volunteer and knowing she’d be her Avox? I wonder if she, like Cinna, somehow volunteered to be her Avox?

I mean ... talk about convenient placement that this specific girl was assigned to Katniss’ district—oh wait, y’all, I just caught myself. She’s from Twelve. She was assigned to Twelve’s tributes because she’s from there, duh. I’m such an airhead omg just call me Effie.

Don’t you actually dare.

“When I look back, the four adults are watching me like hawks.” Meanwhile, Peeta is just like 😬😬😬 eating his dinner.

Actually, ngl, this could be such a reach and it probably is but like maybe Peeta sensed a confrontation coming and, because of his implied upbringing, he naturally becomes silent or makes himself invisible when trouble starts looking like it’s gonna arise. 🥺🥺🥺 I don’t know why I say these things I’m just hurting my own feelings but ya know the drill. I thought it so I said it.

Why is Effie yelling at Katniss for saying she knows the Avox girl like omg overreaction much? And I know, the sky is blue 🙄🙄🙄 she’s prejudiced against basically everyone, I know, I know

Rip her wig off, Katty Deen 🤗🤗🤗

Oh I stupidly forgot that Avoxes are supposedly known by everyone to be traitors or criminals. So I suppose this isn’t Effie’s worst offense but I’m keeping a tally anyways

Katniss is blaming her stuttering on the wine but my girl just has social anxiety 😔😔😔

Peeta coming in with a save 😭😭😭 he’s already trying saving his girl 🤧

Alsoooo the unspoken friendship, the covering for the other and teaming up against the adults, is still riding high and going strong here 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 look away, y’all, the shipper comments are coming in strong

Also why is this the first real interaction with Peeta in this chapter yet? My baby needs more page-time 🤭🤭🤭

“Delly Cartwright is a pasty-faced, lumpy girl with yellowish hair who looks about as much like our server as a beetle does a butterfly.” Now why did Katniss just tear Delly to shreds for no reason at all 😭😭😭 this was a surprise assault on the poor girl 🙃🙃🙃🙃

“She may also be the friendliest person on the planet - she smiles constantly at everybody in school, even me.” Okay not to tie absolutely everything back to Peeta ... but to tie absolutely everything back to Peeta ... this description of poor, sweet Delly is actually indicative of Peeta’s character? Since Delly, we find out in Mockingjay, is Peeta’s childhood best friend, her personality being this sunny, kind, good-natured person tells us Peeta has always probably been somewhat like her and perhaps not as much like the other town kids Katniss implies to be stuck up or snooty. Maybe Katniss is just shady and deflects onto others 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️.

Also the fact that she gives this like ... mean description of Delly but saw Peeta as popular, even though surely Delly and Peeta spent time at school together, implies further that Katniss did indeed harbor a secret crush on Peeta even before the reaping. A very mild comparison of his on her though, of course 😅😅😅

“It must be the hair” “something about the eyes too” their piggybacking on the other’s comments really is just chiefs kiss 😘🤗🥰🤧 FYI I know the saying is chefs kiss but I made the typo once a long time ago and decided to add it forever to my brand 🤗🙃🥳

Also though this Everlark interaction is reminiscent of when two kids get caught by their teacher goofing off in class and covering for each other 🥰 only it’s a lot more deadly stakes

“A few of the other couples make a nice impression, but none of them can hold a candle to us.” She’s so modest 🤧🤧🤧 her narration here and during the Tribute Parade just has the vibes of ... well .... sorry in advance

Haymitch’s comment “Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice” leads me to think he and Cinna and maybe Portia were always in cahoots about the rebellion even before Katniss and Peeta came along and well ... lit their match on fire 🥁🤗🤣🤭

Katniss is like “rebellion??? Rebellion where??? What’s that you old people speak of???” And yet, girlfriend goes out to the woods and hunts illegally every day of her life 🤣🤣🤣🤣.

“But when I remember the other couples, standing stiffly apart, never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow tribute did not exist” too lazy too look it up but there’s a quote from Ballad about Lucy Gray and Jessup being distinguished by their visible friendship too that set them apart from the other tributes.

Either Suzanne thought of drawing a nice parallel showing what a failed Everlark attempt looks like, because I firmly stand by the fact that without their real feelings behind their act, even Katniss’ unconscious ones, they wouldn’t have pulled it off, or Suzzie just reused her own content. I prefer the former but I think it’s probably the latter 🤭🤭🤭

“Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk." I know Haymitch is being facetious here but this quote reminded me of the fact that the movies would have hit differently if they’d cast actual sixteen year olds in the roles.

“When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to him.” This is such a flirty, high school boy pose, you cannot convince me otherwise 😭😭😭

Also I definitely feel like Peeta is getting more and more confident here because he’s oblivious to Katniss’ inner monologue as much as she is his actually we all are his sadly and he probably thinks she’s starting to like him 🤧🤧🤧

“So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here." 🤣 He honestly cracks me up idk why this line isn’t even special or that great. He’s just so ... subtly nosy / funny. Which brings me to that quote from Mockingjay where Katniss talks about his sense of humor because it’s one of the things she loves most about him 😭😭😭

But he’s like, “I can keep a secret, Katniss, tell me who that tongueless chick is to you 😬”

Katniss stop talking about debts, friends cover for the other all the time 🙄🙄 I know it’s in her character stop yelling at a fish for swimming that’s not a real phrase I know that too

Okay first of all, they’re about to share a secret 🥰🥰🥰🥰. My shipper goggles are on tight and obstructing my vision. I know this and am proud 😬🥳🤗

And secondly, “Maybe sharing a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend.” Hey, butthead, you two are already friends. She doesn’t even recognize that the girl who constantly sits with her, talks to her, eats with her and trades with her is her friend either though, I’m shocked she calls Gale her friend

Does Peeta get to know Cinna too? I don’t think so but it’s mentioned now a couple times in this chapter alone that Peeta has interacted with Cinna. Katniss never interacts or has a conversation with Portia.... then again, is that even surprising? Katniss isn’t ... what you would call ... social. Hashtag relatable.

Awww, they’re communicating so effectively together 🥰😭🤧🥳

Also rooftops belong to Everlark only 😍😊😉 I mean, seriously, Katniss never goes up on a rooftop with anyone else. Besides Haymitch in the first movie but we ignore.

“Electricity in District 12 comes and goes, usually we only have it a few hours a day.” Earlier she said the Seam didn’t often have electricity, in particular, so either she’s not specifying her section of the district anymore or Suzanne is backtracking.

“But here there would be no shortage. Ever.” I’ve had two power outages recently so clearly the Capitol isn’t based on us currently today then 😐😐 I’m just joking ok

“I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?” .... boyfriend, where does your mind go sometimes? Peeta’s darker than we realize, y’all 🤭🤭🙃🙃

“He holds out his hand into seemingly empty space. There's a sharp zap and he jerks it back” between this and Catching Fire, Peeta is addicted to getting shocked by forcefields 🤧🤧🤧

“I wonder if we're supposed to be up here now, so late and alone.” If this was a romantic drama or comedy, that line would have meant something a lot more fun 😒😔😬😉😏

“On the other side of the dome, they've built a garden with flower beds and potted trees.” Is this meant to resemble Snow’s grandmother’s garden???? Like he had them put a garden there to like ... put a piece of his Grandma’am in the games? Idk this made zero sense it was a stupid thought

Two people in a garden at night, with wind chimes, sounds romantic in any other context. 🥺🥺

Ummm does everyone in the entire district know Katniss and her father used to hunt together?

Oh nevermind, Lavinia is not from District Twelve. My bad, guys. I should go up and edit my previous thoughts but that’s a lot of work. 😅😅😅

Katniss, stop being so hard on yourself. You and Gale were kids. 😣😣

Ummm, Katniss for a girl always complimenting Peeta’s storyteller, you’re pretty good at painting a picture yourself...

Peeta noticing she’s shivering 🥰🥺

He gives her ... his jacket 😭😭😭😭 such a romantic troupe Samantha, get over it there’s literally children dying

Oh wow, Lavinia was from the Capitol originally. Hmm, it is sus now that she got District Twelve this particular year.

But also 🤧🤧🤧 “he secures a button at my neck.”

His hands .... are .... often .... at her .... neck .... 😶😬 .... look away, y’all

Oh wow, Katniss is over here thinking, “who’d leave the Capitol if they were from here???” And Peeta’s like instantly, loudly, without hesitating, “well I would 🙋🏼‍♂️”

Hot take, y’all ready? Peeta was a bigger rebel than Katniss from the start. At least internally.

Awww, Peeta is so jealous 😭😭😭😭 and kind of nosy 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss : “me and Gale are not related” Peeta : “😬🙃😭😩😶”

“I'd set out to tell her I was sorry about dinner. [...] my apology runs much deeper. [...] I let the Capitol kill the boy and mutilate her without lifting a finger. Just like I was watching the Games.” I feel like this is actually a good comparison though, because of you grew up in a society where you have to watch kids die, your whole entire life you’ve watched it in a glorified television show, you would be really desensitized to it...

“You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.” Here she’s talking about Lavinia but it applies to Peeta too. Katniss was Lavinia’s last hope and she feels like she let her down but Peeta was her last hope once and he came through. And, as she said in chapter one, she’ll never forget him for it. And for other things too. Later on. 😏

Of course my last bullet point was focused on Everlark 🤣 is anyone surprised you shouldn’t be we all knew who this post was written by right? 😅

And once again, if too made through this marathon, congratulations 🥳🥳🥳🥳 maybe next chapter I’ll talk less not likely though so don’t count on it 😅

[silverostro]

the interrogation // self-para

cw: mentions of torture, police brutality, violence, blood, electric shock/electrocution, forced amputation

i bet on losing dogs i know they're losing and i'll pay for my place by the ring where i'll be looking in their eyes when they're down i'll be there on their side i'm losing by their side

{ click here for trigger-free tldr. }

{ cigarettes, wedding bands. }

Few memories remain of childhood, but the words are clear enough in your mind, nothing else in the cold, darkness you’re thrown into.

It’s best to keep your head down, and focus on the things you can control, focus on the silver, instead of trying to change the things you can’t.

Your choice to stop doing so led you here, and yet your can’t bring yourself to regret it, knowing you’ve done much worse in trying to focus on the few things your believed were in your control. You’ve never had control; not then, not now.

All you can do is find irony in those words.

Focus on the silver.

{ savior complex. }

You keep hearing him. At first you think they’ve taken him, too, but you realize quickly it’s your mind playing tricks on you.

His voice, saying your name. When you first went back to the suite, when time felt infinite, and only the two of you existed, even if only for a few hours. Directly before it came crashing down, cuddled up together, wrapped in warmth, safe, talking, just talking about anything and everything. 

Then when they came for you. The fear clear in their voice, the frozen panic. Odd, that you felt so calm, even as the peacekeepers pulled you away, held Robyn back, even as you said a few words of comfort, so calm as you told them everything would be alright, knowing it was a lie, looking over your shoulder to take in the sight of them, in case it was the last moment you were allowed that gift.

Then blackness. But not panic.

The paranoia that has been plaguing your mind for weeks is the thing that keeps you utterly calm. The still lingering feeling of their lips against yours, skin against skin keeps the rough hands pulling you around from bruising anything more than skin.

There’s work to be done.

{ black hole sun. }

It begins.

Silver to focus on. Silver and Copper. 

(You’ll realize the irony later.)

Exposed wire, wrapped roughly around your wrists. The static closes in on your mind, protective, before they even start the shocks. You’re prepared, because you’ve been here before.

The questions start before the electricity, but your mind is already filling in the blanks, distortion louder than the voices in the dim room.

There’s mention of a message from so-called rebels, of a coded broadcast at the end of the reception, and your mind can hardly catch up with it, hazy as it’s suddenly become. But you realize soon enough. They think it was you. And that makes you laugh. You’ve done so much, been so careless, but not this. You spent the night enjoying yourself, not hacking. You ended the night in Three’s suite, with Robyn, fingers busy learning their body, not typing code into hacked consoles.

The irony isn’t lost on you that the thing to confirm your paranoia was founded has nothing to do with you at all. It’s both frustrating and hilarious in your jumbled mind that they’ve got it all so wrong.

You tell them you’re more intelligent than to do something so foolish. You tell them that you weren’t even at the reception at the end of the night, that there are people who could confirm that, Avoxes who could confirm. But it doesn’t matter, because they’ve already made up their minds.

(No, someone else made up their minds for them.)

The first crackle of electricity, the first shock feels like meeting an old acquaintance again after a long time apart, your body remembering the feeling as if your Games were yesterday, not twenty-three years ago.

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood, and say nothing.

{ idontwanttobeyou. }

How long it goes on before they realize you’re more stubborn than they believed, you don’t know. The electricity makes time feel like liquid, the same as your insides.

They think that the taunting will make you weak, but it does the opposite. Knowledge has always been power for you, after all.

No use in lying. It had your signature all over it. You’re lucky. At least half of Three is smart enough not to get so cocky.

Digit.

Your mind makes a leap, and in the haze of pain it’s only logical. Digit did this, Digit made sure you would take the blame. You should be livid. And perhaps you are a little angry, but not for what she’s done to you, for the lack of warning, for the lack of forethought. Perhaps you should be ready to tell them it was probably her. But you don’t. You think of her Games, of how little you tried, how little you helped her afterward, of the pain she’s suffered because of it. Because of you. It feels a like penance, the first concrete form of it since telling her you would try.

They’ve given you control.

Now you have a job, one you had offered to do back on the train, one you hadn’t realized you would be called on for now. It’s a simple job. Keep her, and anyone else they might threaten through you, safe. Lie through your teeth, no matter the consequences for yourself.

It’s only fair.

You’re glad, through the distortion, to have something to focus on, rather than this being what you expected, being taken for your own carelessness. This is easier.

Better to focus on anything but the silver.

{ when your mind’s made up. }

They hound you with questions, looking for details, looking for names, but you have none to give, and so the answer is more electricity.

It’s an intimately familiar feeling, one that’s lived constantly in your mind, in your dreams for twenty-three years. They’re using your own calculations against you. The pain calling up memories as it burns so many to the ground. It’s no longer a phantom feeling. Two hundred volts of DC current at approximately three amps, just as you had calculated perfectly, running through your body. Except they left out a critical point.

The coppery taste on your tongue, though, the uncontrollable spasms tell you that your body doesn’t think they’ve left out something critical. They’re making their point just fine.

And yet.

If you’re going to suffer anyway, if you’re going to die, you might as well taunt them into doing it more efficiently, because you’re not going to give them what they want. They’re wasting their time, and yours. The least you can do is make sure they finish their job before your resolve weakens.

“Keep going. More volts, higher amps. Water. You’re not doing what you think you are,” you laugh, but your voice doesn’t really sound like your own anymore.

Instead of what you ask for, you get nothing. The electricity stops, but the shaking doesn’t. Your insides feel jumbled, your mind a wreck, unable to think any coherent thought except lie, over and over again.

{ kansas remembers me now. }

You don’t know how long you’re alone. Seconds, hours, days. It’s silent except for your ragged breathing, the noises of pain you can’t control, and you find your mind cycling through flashes of memories, static at the edges of them all, as you drift in and out of consciousness.

Music drifting in through an open window, soft touches, hands steady for the first time in years, gentle and then not-so gentle kisses. The feeling of a small wooden figure clutched between your fingers, the smell of earth lingering on it, a smile, a friend. The sound of machinery whirling, your mother’s laugh, melodic, your father’s hand on your back, proud. Whispered conversations in corner booths, two other heads huddled together with yours, lost. Thalia, the smell of her blood, then the smell of electrical burns. Is that real, or imagined?

A cup of liquor, with a little tea. Standing in your kitchen, promising to try. Promising to keep her from harm, in so many words.

Time to make good on that promise, whether she wants you to or not.

{ all eyes on me. }

A new tactic. Knocked to the ground, the now familiar taste of blood on your tongue, then forced into a seat, restrained. In the haze of pain, exhaustion, you think of Robyn, wishing you’d memorized their taste a little better.

You wait for the threats to others, prepared because of Swann. They don’t come, though. There’s no mention of Robyn, no mention of Blythe, no mention of Perri, nothing of the argument with Griffin, nothing of your conversations with Hudson, or Fava, or any others. All of the things you’ve done, and all they focus on is something you haven’t.

Someone grabs your left hand, and forces it down against cold metal, almost soothing against hot skin.

“Who told you to send the message?”

Your reply is involuntary, manic laughter, garbled by blood. Laughter that’s cut short, laughter that turns into a strangled cry when you feel the cold, sharp blade press against your knuckle.

You don’t remember what questions come after that, the pain too intense, the panic too overwhelming. Only the smell of blood, the shine of a silver blade in the light, the sound of your own cries.

No, not just your own. Distorted, distant, you hear another. Two others. Familiar. Your parents? You don’t know if it’s a real memory, but it feels like understanding. 

History repeats itself.

{ the wanting comes in waves/repaid. }

It comes in threes.

It’s a statement, your mind supplies, as if to tell you this isn’t just your punishment, there are going to be consequences in Three, too, for what you haven’t even done. Knuckle by knuckle, finger by finger, they’re taking your tools, and even in the haze of pain, you know if you survive this, they’re not going to give them back, no gift of beautifully-made tech from your own District on the other side waiting for you.

If you’re not going to use your skill for the Capitol, you won’t be allowed to use it at all.

The thing that keeps you conscious is the knowledge that they can’t take it fully. You hear your parents’ voices again, your father taking a wrench from your left hand, putting it into your right, your mother telling you it’s important to know how to use all of your tools, just in case. That keeps the pain from becoming unbearable, that keeps your lips tightly shut except for the involuntary sounds of pain.

And then they take your right hand, and you feel sick to your stomach, thinking they must have seen how you’ve tried to train yourself over the years to use both hands. Your right hand is weak, unsteady from the electric shocks of your Games, you can’t write with it, can’t draft plans, but it can still be put to work. You have enough strength there to hold a wrench, to solder wires, tighten nuts and bolts. The thought of losing both hands’ abilities to create makes you panic for the first time since you were taken from your suite.

It’s selfish, it’s cowardice. Twisted, that you’d rather die than be left useless. They know that, because of course, they do. You helped make certain their surveillance is top of the line. Of course, they’ve used it to learn your weaknesses, too.

It’s a horrifying thing, to realize for the second time in your life that you’re wrong about your death. To have your life in the hands of the Capitol, and know they’re going to make sure you survive. Again.

(Just another example, just another show of what happens to those who don’t shut up and do exactly as they’re told. There’s a vague thought that you’re surprised they don’t just take your tongue, too.)

This time, they take half at once, to make their point clear. Half of your index finger gone, then the feeling of that sharp metal on your thumb, before you break.

“Please, please, don’t...not my other...please,” you beg through sobs of pain, and you hate the sound of it, hate how panicked your voice is, how it shakes.

If they say anything, you don’t hear them, launching into lies without thinking, anything to keep them from taking more from you.

“It was me, just me but...it isn’t so simple...it was a test, nothing more...no one...no one told me to do it, and I know nothing else...The train, it sparked an idea...I was trying to...trying to draw them out of the woodwork. The rebels, whoever they are...in search of information.”

A shuddering breath, another sob you can’t control, as you try to focus through the pain and distortion, as you try to ignore the coppery, overwhelming smell of your own blood.

“We’re all desperate,” you say, voice barely audible. You didn’t do it, but this part is true. “Our loved ones...are about to die. We just needed...motivation. I just wanted hope.”

It’s only then that the cool, sharp silver leaves your thumb. A low laugh comes in response.

“That wasn’t hope. Clear enough for you now?”

You nod slowly, because there’s nothing else to do, and they finally let go of your arm, release the restraints, let you collapse.

{ i bet on losing dogs. }

They don’t realize how wrong they were. 

Here’s your hope: you’re still alive. They weren’t intelligent enough to realize how much of a mistake that choice was. It isn’t hope, perhaps that’s true.

But it certainly is motivation.

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Eleven (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4.2k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

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

–

You run your fingers over the white cotton sheet, trying to ignore the fact that you’re currently inside of the training center. You’d be able to recognize this place with your eyes closed. It’s made out of concrete with all the newest technologies. The people that are walking around here--especially the avoxes--have the same clothes and designs as the people inside of the training center.

Of course, the avoxes change clothes, but the things they wear are still outstanding and degrading to differentiate them from everyone else. They still look as best as they possibly can while also looking like a servant. That doesn’t mean that they can’t re-wear clothes though, which is exactly what’s happened.

The avox that stands in the corner of your room wears the same black and white plaid outfit that they wore during the night of the interviews. It’s a terrifying outfit, really. You absolutely hate it, which is another reason why you’re avoiding eye contact. You’d ask them to turn around if it weren’t for the fact that she has to keep an eye on you.

The doors to your “hospital room” are glass, you can see right through them. Which also means that you’re able to watch the doctors that come in and out of rooms. Some push carts, others don’t. It doesn’t really matter, all that does is that there’s brief moments where someone isn’t in the hallway.

They all look so rushed, as if they’re working on some sort of deadline. How fast they’ll move…

It’s almost as if there’s something going on out there. Or they don’t want you catching on to what’s happening.

“Huh.” you push yourself up from the bed, impatient at the lack of attention that you’re getting, compared to whatever is going on out there.

As soon as you get too close to the glass, the avox jerks forward and grabs a hold of your arm. It’s not a tight grasp, she just pulls you back a little, and then lets go. Hell, from what you can see, she’s fearful. Like you’ll blow up on her or something.

“Is someone coming, then? Soon?” you ask, and she nods.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you take a seat on the bed again. This time, you find something to occupy yourself. Firstly, there’s no cut on the back of your head anymore, it feels like. No bump, no dip, it might be completely healed. It really just means that you’ve been here for a couple of days.

As for everything else that has happened to you--it’s gone. No more scabs from the man-eating spiders. Your skin is smooth, but that doesn’t excuse every single little scar that it’s left behind. 

Your heart twists, you hold your arms out in front of you, seeing the fresh scars. Next are your legs, which are even fresher. They’ve still got that bright color to them, not yet blending into your skin tone. And it’s probably because you didn’t pay as much attention to your legs as you did your upper body.

Which was because your upper body was being televised. For the rest of that day, you were only in a sports bra. There really wasn’t a point in your eyes to just strip down the bottom half of the suit to apply ointment that wouldn’t even stay put. No one would be seeing it anyway.

The scars are fixable, you think. It’ll cost money, but you can get clear skin again--’polished’ as they say. It would have to come before the rest of the tattoos, though… and the old tattoos would also have to be fixed in that case. A lot of money, and you’re not too fond of fixing those tattoos. They’re memories, keepsakes.

You could always just get the rest of your body fixed, and leave your arms alone to avoid all the fixing stuff. It’s your best bet.

You look to your left wrist to see the soulmate words. You rub your thumb over them for a moment, and then scowl.

They left you behind. They left you with Johanna and Peeta, which was the worst thing that they could have done.

They didn’t even wait. Or even try with you standing there--it’s not like they couldn’t have seen you! You were standing right fucking there beneath their noses. And with how everything had gone down, you’re sure they could have afforded one more drop. There was more than enough time.

The glass doors slide open, making you look up.

You can’t help the amount of rage that shoots through your veins instantly.

“And so we meet again,” the words are bitter out of your mouth, you press your lips together in a thin line.

President Snow.

He motions the avox out of the room, and she listens without hesitance. With that, Snow sits in the chair--that you hadn’t even noticed was there--and crosses his legs.

“Yes we do.” he says.

You clench and unclench your teeth while you stare at him, trying not to have an attitude, since this man can kill you with the snap of his fingers and not even feel remorse for it. However, it all goes out the window because he’s sitting right in front of you with a smug look.

This motherfucker has ruined your life over and over and over.

Before your first games, you had it good. You had a big, loving family. You had two sisters and three brothers, and a pair of parents that would do anything to protect you all. Your grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and cousins were all alive. You had big gatherings during the summers, and cried when they had to go home.

And then you volunteered for the games, as you were instructed to do. You won your games, and at the end of your so-very-rich victory tour, he presents you with the worst fucking offer you’ve ever heard. Sell yourself for more money. Money, jewels, riches, clothes, love--adoration. 

Except, it wasn’t an offer, he was telling you. But what he wasn’t telling you, was that he was picking off those cousins, those aunts, uncles and grandparents. Next were those siblings of yours, and when you said no for the final time, your parents. You came home to a fucking massacre in your childhood home.

Everyone looked like they were frozen in place. They were shot, beaten, bruised and bloody, but they were right where they had been when it had happened. Your father was still in his armchair, your mother face-down in dirty sink water, your siblings playing in their rooms, reading books, sleeping. 

It was all the same for the rest of your family too.

And when the first fucking check with your victory money came through, you used it all to put them in the ground. You basically had your own fucking cemetary. 

The worst part is that you agreed after all that. He had killed everyone, and yet you still went through with it, as if you had anything else to lose. Your family was the only thing that you had left. It wouldn’t be the same if he killed friends, because it’s not you who would be grieving anymore, it would be their family.

While you were touring the Capitol on President Snow’s order, you got the tattoos done. You had the flowers done first for your family, every name had a flower that reminded you of them, and at your wrist would be the soulmate tattoo. You had your left arm done first so that the Capitol people would think that you were being sweet.

Then you had the graveyard done. And along came the graveyard, came the nastiest fucking attitude any of them had seen. It only took a week before Snow basically packaged you up and sent you back to District Two. He has to admit that it was smart of you to do that. And for fucksake, you’d do it again.

The attitude is a defense mechanism to keep the people who are too weak-hearted and manipulative-looking away. Only the ones who don’t care, stick through it. And they tend to be the more understanding type on top of that.

The last time that you saw President Snow--other than on tv or in person as the tribute parade--was when he tried to convince you to allow Tanith to be sold around the same way you were.

You felt so fucking smart then, for picking her out specifically. You basically told Snow ‘good luck’ with trying to find anyone she cared about to kill off. She’s a fucking orphan, and back then she didn’t really like you very much. So, he couldn’t get to her by attacking you.

With Zavian, he just wasn’t desirable.

“Stop staring and get to it already.” you snap, lowering your chin a bit as you bite your cheek.

Snow laughs, “Never was one for small talk.” he pauses for a moment, his face becoming more serious, “What do you know about Katniss Everdeen and her plan?”

Well, this can be a very easy answer, or a very hard one. 

Technically, you don’t know anything. You don’t know any part of the plan that they had going on, except for the fact that they had to keep an eye on Katniss and Peeta the entire time. Just to make sure that they wouldn’t get hurt, killed or ran off. The only thing you had the slightest clue on, was the fucking time on when you guys would get out. And even then, it seemed like that was unplanned.

But at the same time, you know a lot more than you’re supposed to, thanks to that talk with Finnick before the interviews. His question of whether or not you were a loyalist was an immediate click. You knew in that exact moment that he was planning something with the others.

You look over Snow’s face, he’s studying you, waiting patiently. It’s only been a couple of seconds. 

You can’t play dumb, you can’t say anything stupid or he will know and be on your ass almost as quickly as you knew of the plan.

“You want the truth?” you ask him, he motions for you to get started, “I didn’t know anything, I wasn’t told a single thing--I put the pieces together myself, and it wasn’t very easy to do. Which means, I could be completely wrong.”

“Tell me what you think you know, then.” 

“I thought that Finnick, Katniss, Peeta, and Johanna were in an alliance, and that they were all getting along.” you lean forward, “I was wrong. Katniss wanted to kill Finnick in the cornucopia until he showed her some dumb bracelet that belonged to Haymitch.

“I only stuck around them inside of the arena cause Finnick and I are soulmates.” you hold up your wrist for Snow to see, “I wouldn’t have dreamt of doing it otherwise.”

Snow squints at you, ignoring your arm, “What else?”

“Finnick and I had a conversation thirty minutes prior to the interviews.” you lift your chin a little now, trying to recall the entire conversation, “The basis was an alliance between him and I, at least. I chose to ask because of the scores that they had all gotten, thinking that it would be better to be on their good side. I didn’t want to be hunted.”

Snow watches you hesitate, and you know that there’s no way you can avoid this now.

The thing is, you’re trying to not get anyone in trouble, while also saving your own ass, and it’s hard to do. Because you don’t owe any of them a single thing, but there’s something in your chest telling you to do it anyway. 

You feel… anxious. And it’s your own emotion.

Your voice is quieter, “Finnick had asked me a peculiar question just before the conversation was over, and I still don’t know what it means.” Snow won’t be able to tell if you’re being truthful or not, “He asked me if I was a loyalist.”

Snow hums, rubbing his white beard, “That’s not it.”

You shake your head, “That’s it. Finnick knew that I had wanted to be in their alliance to be able to kill him and the others. He said that he wouldn’t let me in because of that, and then he asked me if I was a loyalist. I told him I didn’t know what he’s getting at.” you draw your eyebrows together, “That’s when Haymitch came around the corner, must’ve heard us talking or something. He said that the interviews had started, and the conversation ended after that.”

“Which hallway?”

“The uh--first hallway to the left if you’re standing in the main corridor. In the direction of leaving the backstage area.” 

Snow nods now, standing to leave.

“When do I get to go home?” you ask, sliding off the bed to get to your feet too. He’s not going to leave the room until he gives you an answer.

“Soon. I want to show you something first.” Snow says, “Get dressed.”

He takes a step out, leaving around the corner. The avox comes in with some clothes, nicely folded in her arms. The doors don’t offer much coverage, but it’s not really anything they haven’t seen before.

You strip, pulling on the new clothing carefully, afraid of hurting your newly healed skin. It’s a pair of black skinny jeans, and a pink shirt with a breast pocket. The avox then holds out a pair of black tennis shoes for you to slip on after that. And when you’re done, she leads the way out of the room.

You follow her down the hall, passing by everyone who’s moving so quickly. When you get a glance through the windows into the courtyard, you can see that you’re on the base floor, and the building towers over you.

The hallways wind confusingly, but the avox manages. She has this place memorized as if there’s a map in her mind. For a while, you’re confident and unaware of your surroundings, until you pass through a hallway with cages. Only then do you get apprehensive.

Snow is in the next room, which is a corridor of white. The avox backs off, standing in the corner, and you take it upon yourself to approach Snow by yourself. He’s in front of a particular door, staring through the window in the door.

“Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair and Beetee Latier have been taken to District Thirteen, did you know that?” Snow asks, he looks at you briefly, before back through the door.

There’s a sick feeling in your stomach.

“No, I didn’t.” You don’t want to see what’s through that window.

“But you knew that they were taken out of the arena.”

Just thinking about that night gives you a goddamn headache, especially with all that happened afterwards.

After the hovercraft had left, you stared for what felt like forever. Feeling dejected and betrayed, especially with all the time that had been left over. No one came for you, so it was up to you to decide what would happen next.

When you had finally gotten over your feelings, you went ahead and found Johanna, who was right next to a panicked Peeta. Screaming in her face about how all of that was her fault. Johanna took it like a champ, with her mouth sealed shut and everything. But the second that you were there, Peeta turned on you like a rabid dog.

You tried to take a page from Johanna’s book as you calmly explained to him that Katniss, Finnick and Beetee were taken by a hovercraft. 

Peeta didn’t like that, and with him getting in your face, an anger was rising from your stomach to your throat. Like simmering grease, only you’re not supposed to let grease simmer. Because it gets dangerous, begins to pop and burn the skin, and that was exactly what had happened.

You tried to get Peeta to back off, because you didn’t want to make a huge mistake with Johanna standing two feet away. But he kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing so you swung. He fell, and when he tried to get back up, still running his fucking mouth, you lost it.

You hadn’t felt that angry since you found out that your entire family was dead. You did everything you could possibly imagine to harm Peeta in that moment. The first kick to his ribs was the weakest, but the second definitely left some sort of damage. Then Johanna tried to come over, and you knocked her out without a second swing.

Peeta would have gotten the absolute shit beaten out of him if it weren’t for the second hovercraft that had shown up. Only, this one dropped peacekeepers, and you knew instantly that you were in huge trouble. With the arena falling apart, the fire eating at the forest around you, the lack of Katniss, Beetee and Finnick due to an earlier hovercraft, and the fact that you were clearly grouped up with the two morons.

Johanna was an easy grab, Peeta fought relatively hard, and there was no struggle from you. The only thing you actually remember is getting a sedative inside of the hovercraft, and that was it.

“Yes, I knew that they were taken out of the arena.” you answer Snow, blinking a bit to refocus your eyes, “And that means that Peeta and Johanna are here.”

Snow moves aside for you to see inside, and with the pucker of your lips, you move over to see inside. You clench your teeth, expecting the worst, and when you do finally look in, it’s… you can’t put it into words.

Peeta is strapped to a chair, malnourished, purple eye bags that are see able even from this distance. He looks nothing like he did before, he looks gross. Like a…

Like a boy that would have to file for tesserae to eat for the next year. A kid from the Seam.

You swallow thickly, “What the fuck?”

“If I find out that you aren’t telling the truth--” His voice is measured, but there’s an underlying tone, anger, you think, “--then I will bring you back from District Two. And I will be getting the real answers.”

If this is what they’ve done to Peeta--sack of flour, absolutely harmless--you can’t imagine what loudmouth Johanna looks like.

“I’m telling the truth.” you tell him, your eyes flickering back to Peeta.

He’s spotted you now, and the two of you stare at each other, eyes locked and neither of you move. With the look of you, he relaxes. It’s strange that the sight of you gives him so much peace, even though you would have killed him if the peacekeepers hadn’t come. But he must see something in your face, because he draws his eyebrows together, like he’s asking a question.

“How long have I been here?” you ask Snow.

“A couple of weeks.”

You look at him now, “I’ve been in a coma?”

“Medically induced. Those spiders weren’t just flesh-eating, they were venomous too.”

Not to mention your head injury, and everything else that had occurred inside of there. You might as well be lucky to be alive.

“I want you to do something for me, when you do get back to District Two.” Snow says, you look at Peeta again to see that the glass is blocked.

“Which is?”

“Show them that you are a loyalist, and get the rebels to calm down.”

One word spirals up in your mind, strong and stubborn that you struggle to hold down; No.

They have Peeta strapped to that chair like he’s an animal. They’re starving him, they’re depriving him of sleep, and that window is blocked because they’re doing something to him. 

“I’m not agreeing to that until I get to see Johanna and anyone else you have here.” you tell him, “Only then I will try to get two to settle down.”

Snow smiles a little, “You’ll have two weeks.”

You nearly laugh in his face right then, but manage to hold it back, “I don’t have much of a choice, I’ve already agreed, haven’t I?”

Snow nods approvingly, before leading you right next door. In this chair is Johanna. Her hair is shaved, she’s soaking wet, and she’s thrashing against the restraints without control. You take back what you said about Peeta, this is an animal. Doing this to Johanna is like putting an angry lion inside of a small cage. It’s only a matter of time before she gets out and explodes.

She looks just as hungry and tired as Peeta does. But Peeta isn’t getting nearly as bad as tortured as she is. She looks like she’s been through hell and back, as if she’s seen the devil himself and laughed in his face. 

In this case, Snow would be the devil, and she would be the exact fool to do something like that. 

Johanna spots you the same way that Peeta did, by the off chance that her eyes glance over the glass. The second that she has, she relaxes for a moment, and the window is covered almost immediately after.

The both of them had the same reaction upon seeing you. You can’t think of a reason why, until it hits you. They have to be thinking that you’re here to save them. You’re seeing the state that they’re in, and they’re hoping that you’ll relay the message to tell someone of their condition, you’re sure of it.

Snow grabs your arm, yanking you along to the door across from Johanna’s. When you look into this one, you’re a little more confused.

“Annie Cresta wasn’t inside of the hunger games.” you place your hand against the glass, “Why--”

“Leverage.” Snow says simply, “Who would she belong to, Miss Rosecelli? Who would tear the world apart to get to her?”

It dawns on you then, and you nod a little bit. Finnick, obviously. This is Finnick’s girlfriend, the one that you told him to keep. 

“What’s the point of having her if you’re not starving her like the rest?” you ask.

“I do have morals.”

‘Not very high ones’, you think.

“I’m surprised,” you look at Snow, “Considering all the other shit you’ve done, you still have a heart.”

Annie is healthy, that’s all you have to say about her. She’s got rope to twirl and knot, she’s got books to read, food to eat and a nice bed. She’s not strapped to anything, it looks like she has medication, and she’s content. You can’t help but to wonder if she’s secretly going insane or plotting her escape, though.

“One more room.” Snow ignores your comment, ushering you to the door to the right of Annie’s.

You shuffle over, thinking that Snow couldn't have possibly taken anyone else that would matter. Beetee’s girlfriend--or whatever Wiress was to him--is long gone. There’s no leverage to have against her.

“Take a look inside.” he’s smug.

You stare for a moment, before following his directions.

Tanith.

Your hand flies up, going to grab the doorknob, but Snow stops you, a tight hand on your wrist, “Just in case you thought that it’s only your life on the line.”

He’s threatening to kill her.

You clench your teeth together, not removing your eyes from Tanith. She looks almost as bad as the other two do. Except, Tanith is a few days behind. Snow didn’t start the process on her until recently. It won’t take long until she catches up, because he could make that happen at the snap of his wrinkly fucking fingers.

“I understand.” you grind your teeth.

She’s not awake to see you, Snow was anticipating this visit. He had her knocked out so that she wouldn’t try and fight against the restraints. She’s smart enough to slip out of them, it makes you curious if Snow knows that too, or he just wanted to see your reaction to having her unconscious. Like he’s trying to trick you into thinking she’s dead.

“The avox will take you to the hovercraft.” he lets you go, “Two weeks.”

Snow has just made the biggest mistake in his life.

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 30

This is the last one before the party! Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses (also thanks for Conor!), and @thoughts-of-nora!

With the blood in my carpet, I was able to create a few crystal knives just in case I needed them, but I would only use them in an emergency. So, I kept one on me very inconspicuously.

A couple days after I saw Shine and Volt, some Peacekeepers knocked on my door. They didn’t tell me what was going on; they just grabbed me and pushed me along. Brilliant. Was it some other brilliant idea of Aurora’s?

Nope. It was Conor’s. He was standing in the middle of the room, wearing just a buttoned shirt, instead of a full suit, and he had rolled his sleeves up. There was an Avox over to the side, standing by a radio. What the hell was this?

I smirked over at him as the Peacekeepers pushed me into the room and slammed the door behind them. I crossed my arms. “What’s this? You trying to woo me now?”

“You’ve only just now figured that out? We’ve only been a couple for how many days now?” He pretended to look wounded as he walked closer to me, and his eyes sharpened when he got closer.

I laughed. “That means my acting has been that good. I had no idea.”

He actually looked serious. “If I was to ask if you were physically alright, what are the chances of you giving me an honest answer?”

Aw. Was that a bit of concern I saw? I held up my hands so he could see the scar on my right hand even more clearly. “100% truth, I’m technically physically alright. You don’t have to worry about me fainting on you.” I winked at him. He really thought I was going to admit weakness in front of him? He had already exploited my weakness for my friends once.

“Alas, and here I was hoping we would get the full cliché of the romance story. Now I’ll never cross it off the list.” Sorry for disappointing him. “But if ever there was a time for Ally cats presence…nevertheless, I suppose the dress will have to be a little different than the first plan. Still I do hope you will like it.” Ooh. What was this? I hadn’t heard hints of these plans. “But as for why we’re here, apparently the Capitol is afraid that throwing their newest gem into a party for the first time might embarrass them more if she doesn’t know how to dance. Though, I suppose we can’t give them too much credit for worrying about how they’ll be viewed through you all things considered.” A dark look passed over his face before he hid it with a smirk.

Huh. He seemed to be so concerned about me getting hurt. I wouldn’t have expected that of him. I put my hand over my chest, faking pain. “How rude to assume I can’t dance. And 100% true. So, I’m assuming that means you know how to?”

“Why of course! Some of the best dramas unfold on the dance floors of parties, loves, deals, battles of their own sorts, break ups, and renouncements…so much easier to see it all the closer you are. Or to spread the right rumor, secret, story, and what-have-you when the guards of those around you are down from music and dance.” Good to know. I really should pay more attention to parties then. “And,” he added as an afterthought. “I have told you I like the finer things of life.”

Ugh. But dancing was so annoying. I fake pouted. “You can have the finer things in life without learning how to dance. Look at me…well, at least before all this shit happened.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A point I will not contest, though I admit, some of them are to be found in it. Lucky for you I have had enough practice that I doubt many would notice your mistakes when the time comes, but I confess, I am unsure how we will fool the ever watchful,” he nodded at the Avox and a camera, “eyes, that we did indeed do as they asked. Or how we would otherwise spend this time.”

I huffed, but he had a point. Damn it. I held out my hand and smiled my best smile. “Then shall we begin?”

“Let’s.” He bowed and kissed my hand before guiding me to the middle of the room.

I was going to look like a damn fool. I didn’t know anything about dancing. The Avox turned on the music. He helped me position my hands, and I hid my nervousness with sarcasm. “My, but I feel under-dressed for this occasion. I hope you can stand a partner who doesn’t know the dress code.”

He started a complicated dance, moving with no warning, and I already stumbled. Shit. I wasn’t prepared for this. “And here I hoped I was dressed down for you, should I have worn less? Perhaps undo a few buttons as well? You can hardly be blamed when uninformed.”

Shit, I couldn’t even respond right away. I looked down as he moved me in the dance. I tried to keep up, but I kept stepping on his feet or stumbling. I looked ridiculous. “I don’t know how you could wear less and still be appropriate. But a more casual shirt would have made me feel less like I missed a memo.” Less sarcasm now.

“Alas, my current wardrobe is rather lacking in what you would call casual, unless of course you mean in the manner of the Capitol? If not, then this is as dressed down as I can appropriately get while in my current position.”

Huh. That probably wasn’t something I should try to imagine, or I’d start flushing. But I made a face just thinking about having to wear fancy clothes all the time. “Then I’m even more grateful they let me wear whatever I want when they’re not parading me around on tv. Sucks to be you.”

He laughed. “Indeed, though I will admit to revealing a bit in playing these roles. Putting a mask on and allowing the world to see something they wish so you can do as you please? I do enjoy these games.”

I had already seen how much of an expert he was in playing those games. It would be better if I learned more about that, if I ever thought to have another scheme. As I was thinking, he spun me, and I almost tripped over my feet. I frowned. “Any tips for doing that? I’m still working on it myself.”

“When spinning, the best option is to pick something stable to look at so you will not become dizzy, only turning away when you can physically no longer look at it. I’d say trust me, but well,” he spread his arm and raised an eyebrow.

Yeah, he couldn’t be trusted. Especially because he hadn’t answered my question. I snorted. “The dancing tips are much appreciated, but you know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s much the same really. Pick a point that you know is stable about your mask, even if it’s something as small as how you stand or what you wear. Imagine how that fits the part you want to play, as you’re already in it, go from there and believe that it’s a part of you. But only a part. Want to seem confident? Straighten your back, and keep conscious of how it is, and you’ve already done one step of the persona. Then just add more.”

I bowed my head a little, and then promptly tripped. “That’s solid advice. I honestly didn’t expect that from you.”

“I’m wounded.” In a deadpan voice. “But of course, it’s more fun to play the game with someone else who knows.”

“But of course,” I echoed. As we danced, I was actually able to keep my balance. So, I was getting better. “Tell me about your methods. So that I can appreciate your effort that much more.” Maybe I could figure out more about his motives.

“Hmm, some of my methods, I’ll admit, are natural for me, and I have had years of practice. Of building up my personas and masks for everyone else, they are naturally a part of me at this point. I confess, I don’t know what other methods you’re referring to.”

I sighed. He was going to make me say it, wasn’t he? But at least I could get a few more tips out of this. “Fine, I’ll admit. Your charm, your wit, how you can destroy someone with just a few words, how you’re always one step ahead of everyone else.” I made my voice exaggeratedly sarcastic. “You can’t tell me all of that is just a fake persona.”

He laughed. “Destroying someone with a few words is probably the easiest to explain, but it requires having knowledge ahead of time or being able to read them and their tells on the fly. Actually, a rather cheap trick learned from pseudo-psychics about how to cold read a person based off subtle tells they give to a conversation. If you mention this, does their breath hitch or eyes go wide? Or did they seem dismissive of it? Or again, have prior knowledge of their weak points based off their history. Which I suppose aids in the being a step ahead, but having ready access to knowledge and plenty of contacts helps. As well as the years of seeing the patterns people tend to play out. As for charm and wit,” he dipped me, and I lost my footing, and I flailed a little before I realized he was keeping me from falling, “well, at one time they were ‘a fake persona’ for me, learned through pretending to be sharpest in the room, acting like those that were, watching and picking things up to add to my masks. But as I also said, they became a part of me from those years because I let them and wanted them to the point they became as natural as breathing. Satisfied my little thief?”

He pulled me back up, but I still stuttered before I could speak clearly. And I frowned. “Wait, since you answered those questions, do I owe you more kisses? Not complaining or anything, just making sure I know everything I’m getting into.”

“I was not going to charge you for those no, but if you insist, you do still owe me.”

I hated how I actually felt a little disappointed about that, but I didn’t have much time to think about that. He dipped me again, and I almost lost my footing, but he kept me from falling even as he leaned down closer so that our faces were inches from each other. Shit, and I was starting to flush. I was being so stupid. He was dangerous.

He kissed me and as I was getting lost in the intensity of it all, he let me fall and broke contact so that he could lean over me with a smirk before crushing his lips to mine. His hands wandered to my scars on my collarbone and my hand, and he traced them, and his kiss became more intense. He clasped my right hand tight before letting it go and slipping his hand under my shirt. And that was where he found the scar on my lower back and stomach. His hand lingered there, tracing over the scar tissue, and he held me tighter and tighter, and I couldn’t breathe…

He broke away, and when I looked up at him as I gasped for breath, his eyes were dark again. “Are you well enough to continue, little thief?”

I was still gasping for breath, but I wouldn’t admit any weakness. Anyway, I was fine. I was just still in pain from the healing. “To continue what? Don’t go and start talking all vague. I’ll assume something you aren’t meaning.” I smirked.

His gaze hardened a little, and he frowned as he pulled me back upright. “Dancing of course. Though,” he smirked, “I am curious as to what else you could have assumed?”

I cocked my head. Had he really not realized his vague wording? “Well, you did say ‘continue’ after you just stopped kissing me. So, I wouldn’t be out of line to believe you were talking about kissing me more.”

“And tell me, is that what you want?” He leaned close to me as he positioned my hands again.

I flushed a little. He was dangerous. I shouldn’t get closer to him. But also, a stupid side of my brain wanted me to close the distance. Shit. I wasn’t going to admit that. “You’ve already expressed doubt that I’d tell you the truth in other matters. So, why do you think I would now?”

“And yet I’m the liar in our little game.” He started the dance, and it was a lot simpler than the last one. “I am allowed the basic emotion of hope, am I not? Why exactly must these things be such a terrible secret that you have to keep it to yourself? But nevertheless, I will not press. After all, I do keep far too many things close to my chest so to speak, that I am not to be trusted by anyone. Perhaps I should instead be commending you for being one of the few.”

One of the few what? I couldn’t even tell what he meant. “Hmm. Now that’s just confusing on purpose. And I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell the truth, so insinuating that I should be called the liar is just assuming. Like you assumed I wouldn’t tell the truth before. And then I told the truth.” Talking about when he asked if I was physically alright.

“You told the truth in the same manner that I tell the truth, so either, we’re both liars, or we’re both honest people. And should I not be judging based off of past actions or do we constantly forget the past to blindly hope the future is brighter because we so wish it?” As he led me in the dance, he was studying my face.

Of course, my mind flashed to how he had actually told me the truth about Reine and the others. They were safe. They hadn’t been captured by the Capitol. But I’d never admit that. So, I went for a subtle admission. I smirked a little. “A little bit of both, I suppose, especially when new information about the person in question comes to light.”

“Ah, but new information simply means you yourself were wrong about their past, not that they themselves have changed. But I do concede the wisdom of that, given the difficulty one might find in reframing their early bias.”

Good time to press. “So…in the spirit of learning new information and reframing my early bias, what are your motives for fucking with me? This can’t help you with the three motives you stated in the past. Unless you were lying about those.”

“To which three do you refer? I have mentioned my interest and curiosity haven’t I? Or perhaps it was the need for entertainment in a boringly long life? And I informed Star that I’d help her get as many tributes out of the Games of the Capitol as possible. When she failed to get you, and your other friends out, that meant that I was still to help her. Or are you by chance hoping to uncover the dastardly ulterior motives that I’ve yet to reveal that paint me as the true villain in this story?” He spun me, but I actually didn’t trip this time. “The part where I’m using all this as a distraction for the Capitol and other interested groups so I can obtain something that’s been kept from me?”

With how much he made it sound that his villain plan was farfetched, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was real. And I totally didn’t believe that he was just doing this to help Reine get the tributes out. Was he lying, or only telling partial truths? “The three whose answers I’m still paying off. But if there aren’t ulterior motives, why the hell did you choose me?”

“I never said there wasn’t an ulterior motive, but the reason I chose you was simply interest, dear little thief. I’m not sure whether it would comfort you to think that it was purely by chance of fate that our paths crossed in time for you to steal my gloves and draw my attention enough to be intrigued about what the Shades had to say about you instead of say another. Avery or Hugo, or any of the others perhaps could have worked just as well for the purposes, but I’m not sure if she would have endeared herself to the Capitol as easily to be a big enough star.”

Oh boy. I spoke with heavy sarcasm. “Yeah, that makes me feel loads better, hearing that it was just chance that a manipulative, crafty jerk decided to interfere with me. Seriously, the only thing going for you right now is how easy you are on the eyes.” And the information he was giving away that was hopefully at least partially true.

“Not even my honesty, I’m shocked. After all, I’ve always been rather up front about who I am.” He finished the dance, letting go of me and bowing. “But I dare say, that was a little too close to a compliment.”

I smirked and gave him a small curtsey. “Well, maybe you’re too close to deserving that one. But only that one.”

“I’ve survived off of less and have gotten this far. Feel like you understand that one? You didn’t step on my feet accidentally once.”

Maybe I should have. “It makes sense. I should be fine with that one.” So, why did he even show off the complicated one first? “You just made me dance the first one because it was so complicated and I’d stumble and look foolish, didn’t you?”

“Stumbling yes, because it would make the others seem far easier to perform.” Sure. “Looking foolish was not the plan, though I was curious what would happen if you were truly off balance for once, if you’d let anything slip. I cannot say if I’m disappointed or pleased by how you adapt so easily.”

Ha. I either disappointed him or pleased him. I smirked. “I’m just annoying like that, aren’t I, hun?”

He raised an eyebrow, also smirking. “Intriguing is the word I would have used. But if you’d feel better labeling yourself as such, yes, I do find the puzzles I’ve yet to solve annoying as you say.”

I felt even more accomplished. I’d actually annoyed him! Best day ever. I laughed. “What puzzles? Me, I’m an open book.” I spread my arms out with a little bow.

He mimicked me with a flourish. “As am I if you look close enough, and yet we seem incapable of fully understanding the other. Or do you believe to have figured me completely out already and I’m the one left behind?”

“This time I’m being 100% honest when I say: hell no. But I guess that’s part of the fun.”

“Exactly, on that we can agree.”

Well, this had been fun. But time to go. Didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I took his hand and kissed the top of it. “Until next time, Bystander.” And I walked off before he could get the last word.

I paused by the Avox, glanced at the camera, and discreetly handed her one of the crystal knives I had kept on me. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Use this to escape, if you can. And take as many as you can. It’s very sharp.” She gasped and nodded, and I left. Hopefully, I had helped her.

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Wedding Colors (Part 3)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

13:00—lunch. For the first time since the ominous day in July that she’d descended into the gloom of 13, Effie’s belly was full. As weeks had turned into months, she hadn’t felt hunger. She’d picked at meals and pushed unpalatable food around her tray. But now something was different. Flint scraped over steel inside her like the wind across her cheeks that morning. Her spoon repeatedly clinked the bottom of the bowl of squash soup. It took every ounce of restraint to not bring the whole bowl to her mouth and tilt it upward to collect the last drops.

Keenly observant, Cressida noted, “That’s new.”

“What?”

“You finishing a meal here.” She dropped her voice. “Are you pregnant, Trinket?”

Effie’s face flushed scarlet, blushing through burnt cheeks. “Bite your tongue!” she snapped.

Cressida glanced at Pollux, and Effie recognized her own faux pas. “Please excuse me. I wasn’t thinking about...”

Interacting with an Avox who was a regular citizen rather than a servant of the Capitol was still a new experience for her.

Pollux signed, “No problem,” and his brother offered the translation.

Effie returned her attention to the inquisitive filmmaker. “I’m JUST hungry. Must a woman be pregnant in order to finish a bowl of soup?” She whispered “pregnant” as if saying it too loudly might invite the situation. Or just as worrisome, Haymitch could walk in at that moment, hear the word, flip out, and not touch her again. Now that she’d opened the Pandora’s box of sex with him, she didn’t want to put a lid back on it.

“Okay. I get it.” Cressida was intrigued by Effie’s blush, but otherwise mollified. “You like the soup. End of story.”

It was golden orange in color and lightly flavored with spices that tasted like autumn. Ginger was recognizable, but the others were a mystery to Effie. Her experience with cooking was mostly limited to a course she’d taken a decade and a half prior at Charis School of Grace, Beauty, and Charm.

Her mother had insisted on “Finishing School” for Effie after she graduated from the Academy. The summer classes had been a compromise, since her father was resolute in his intention to send her to University. He’d even dipped into his personal inheritance to pay extra tuition when her test scores didn’t qualify her outright for admission.

“Charis will focus Euphemia on the most sophisticated etiquette and deportment, preparing her for marriage into greater wealth,” her mother argued.

“University will prepare Effie for a practical career suited to her strongest skills,” her father contended.

“Grace, beauty, and charm ARE her strongest skills. Face it, dear. Like you, our daughter lacks the talent to be a Gamemaker.”

“She has the talent to be more than a rich man’s wife.”

“If I were the wife of a RICH man, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

Their barbs stung each other. After years of practice, the Trinkets knew just where to aim them. They agreed that Effie needed a path which would secure an optimal future for the family. Neither of them asked her what she wanted.

If they’d asked back then, she would have had one specific answer. And if she was honest with herself now, her deepest desire was exactly the same. If she’d voiced it then, her parents would have sent her to the Asylum first before anything else. So she said nothing about it.

By 18, she’d become a master at the art of knowing when to hold her tongue. She’d internalized the pressure to please her parents and reflect positively on her family’s name and station in society. The burden of doing so was a heavy weight on her shoulders.

Effie’s shoulders ached too from the physical work of gathering and carrying around large sacks of perfect leaves. She daydreamed about a bath full of bubbles followed by a nap on a real bed. Allowing the fantasy was a mistake because then her body screamed for it.

She wondered if even babies were allowed to nap here, or did they get merely a half hour of “reflection” before dinner like everyone else? Did they have daily schedules imprinted on their chubby little arms? Eat. Poop. Sleep. What else did the tiny things do? She’d never paid much attention to them in the Capitol. Had she ever seen a baby in 13? She couldn’t recall.

***

14:00—volunteering. The children would be out of school soon. Plutarch told her to expect them along with anyone who was between work shifts. Coin was allowing more flexibility than usual in order to encourage volunteerism. Effie considered the irony in the word spelled out on her arm in purple ink. Following schedules was mandatory. Once “volunteering” is tattooed on your body, doesn’t it cease to be voluntary?

That place made her head hurt if she thought about it too much. She pulled her rose-tinted sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on, hoping the change in light would temper some of the ache, and help her feel less vulnerable.

“Ready or not, here I go,” she said out loud.

She approached the kitchen staff for permission to use large plastic serving bowls to hold the leaves at the tables. The kitchen manager, a middle aged woman named Cuire, put up resistance, muttering something about needing authorization from the president.

Greasy Sae showed no qualms about interjecting. “Now, those leaves ain’t all that different from a salad. We’ll have the bowls washed again long before dinner service.”

The older woman, with her hair up in a kerchief more plain than Effie’s, carried a stack of serving bowls through the doorway without waiting for the manager’s consent. She returned to the kitchen for more until every serving bowl in 13 was in the dining hall. Cuire pursed her lips but said nothing.

Sae pulled a handful of leaves out of one of the canvas bags and dropped them into a bowl. “The list of procedures here’s a mile long. Sometimes the only way to keep these folks from sayin’ ‘no’ is to just not ask ‘em. And then work fast.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Effie joined her efforts to quickly transfer the leaves to the bowls. “Thank you, Sae.”

“Thank YOU, girl. Gatherin’ up all these to make pretty things for the weddin’, you must be exhausted.”

“I had help. From Haymitch.”

“Did you?”

“I had to ambush him.”

“Nah. As often as that boy looks at you, I’d guess he went willingly.”

Ambushed and willing. Yes, he was.

Beetee wheeled up to her with several spools of wire, wire cutters, rolls of electrical tape, and several pairs of scissors.

“The copper color is PERFECT!” Effie gushed.

“This wire is at least a hundred years old,” he replied with little emotion, “The only reason it shows no corrosion is because 13 is fastidious about its storage conditions, including adequate air circulation. The gauge is small. The electrical current from present technologies, would overload and overheat it. The wire is rather useless actually.”

“Well, we’ve found a use for it!”

“In the absence of copper tape, this seems the best match, which is ironic since brown is typically used for high voltages. And high voltages would burn right through this particular wire.”

“We’re just making garlands today, not blowing out an arena!”

“You’re speaking non-metaphorically, of course. We might hope the propo will play a role in shattering the Capitol’s grip on the restless minds of its citizens... That said, it isn’t my intention to imply that YOUR mind is gripped and restless.”

A gripped and restless mind sounded fairly accurate to Effie. “I doubt the Capitol views me as its citizen at this point.” I guess that makes me homeless, even though my family home, my apartment, my belongings, my entire history are all there.

Beetee noticed her smile fade. “You might be right about that. ...I’m sorry.”

After seeing what her victors had been through and what they were still going through, she felt uncomfortable being apologized to by a victor who she held in high regard. I don’t deserve an apology, though manners dictated the proper response to an apology was a gracious, “Thank you.”

“Will you be staying to help?” she added.

“I’m needed in Special Defense. Bring the leftover supplies when you come down later.”

“Beetee, thank you for this.”

The clock was ticking. Effie went to work immediately, arranging leaves in alternating colors and shapes and adhering the stems to a long length of wire.

“What a beautiful pattern!” A friendly voice spoke over Effie’s shoulder. She turned to see Delly Cartwright whose blonde hair fell free of its usual braid.

“An artisan! Delly, I’m grateful you’re here to help with production and quality control.”

From their occasional chats at mealtimes, Effie had learned that Delly’s parents had been shoemakers, and 13 put her to work in textile production as soon as she’d turned 18.

“Me? An artisan?”

“You WILL be, dear. I’ve seen your stitching. I’ve also observed your congenial way with people.” Effie cut a long length of wire for Delly and set her up with supplies to work at another table. “Let’s spread around the talent.”

When school let out, Delly’s younger brother was the first to arrive, not wanting to go “home” to empty quarters. Posy Hawthorne followed close at his heels, skipping to keep up with his much longer legs.

“Stop followin’ me!” he told her.

“I’m not followin’ you. We’re just goin’ the same place, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re a baby, and I don’t want you sittin’ at MY table.”

“Cordwain!” Delly interjected, “That’s not polite!”

“I’m FIVE years old, and I’ll sit wherever I please, CordWAIN.” With three older brothers, Posy could hold her own in disagreements with just about anyone, especially boys. Effie admired that along with her manners.

“Aw, Dellyyyy,” her brother whined, “You’re supposed to call me Cord!”

“You apologize to Posy, and I won’t have to be so stern.”

“Do I HAVE to?! She’s just Vick’s little sister.”

“And you’re MY little brother, so, yes, you do. You know Ma and Pa would say so if—“

“Ma and Pa are dead!” Cord sat at the table with Delly and folded his arms across his chest.

Delly sighed, and her tone softened, “Cordy, honey, that’s all the more reason to apologize.”

His lip quivered, and he muttered in a hoarse voice. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry they died,” Posy empathized, “My daddy died b’fore I was born.”

She sat across from Effie and looked at her for a long fifteen seconds. Effie wasn’t used to children being so young. The girl’s dark hair fell long past her shoulders in two braids. Her gray eyes were deeply set. She had the look of a person who’d seen the shadow of death and kept going.

“I like your pink glasses.” Posy twirled one of her braids around her finger. “I used to have pink ribbons. Two of ‘em.”

“When I was your age, I wore pink ribbons in my hair. Pink was my favorite color.”

“Mine too! Gale says we can’t go back fer the ribbons. He says they’re gone. Do you think they’re gone?”

“Well... I...” For goodness sake. What does one say to a child whose district was fire bombed to rubble?

Cord muttered some more, “Of course they’re gone!”

Posy ignored him, waiting for Effie’s response.

“Your brother, Gale, is wise, dear.” Effie saw her expectant little face fall. “I am going to your district tomorrow. With Katniss. Would you like for me to look for the ribbons so you know for certain?”

Posy nodded.

“Then I’ll be sure to do that. In the meantime would you like to help make a garland? There aren’t any pink leaves, but there are other pretty colors.”

Posy reached into the bowl and pulled out a red one. “Can I do this one?”

“Of course. Let me show you.”

Effie demonstrated with a different leaf then watched Posy’s small fingers peel and cut the tape and use it to add her chosen leaf to the copper wire.

“How’s that?” the girl asked.

The tape was crooked. The leaf was crooked, and it didn’t fall in line with the pattern. Effie considered telling her so. Aemilia Trinket certainly would have. And for that reason if no other, Effie said to the five-year/old, “That’s wonderful, dear.”

Posy beamed. “You’re nice. You’re not scary at all! I’m gonna go tell Rory that he’s wrong.” She hopped out of the chair and skipped away, turning around long enough to say, “I’ll be back!”

Effie watched her go, not knowing quite what to think. Rory?... She couldn’t remember who that was. One of the Hawthorne boys?

“This year would have been Rory’s first reaping,” Delly explained.

Effie didn’t need to hear anything more in order to understand. The truth split her heart. Half of it dropped like lead into her stomach. The other half rose up into her throat, threatening to choke her.

The children are afraid of me.

Even without a reaping ball in front of me, they are still afraid.

In that moment, she didn’t have time or space to process the realization. She just sat there, forcing a smile, trying to keep the vacant feeling in her chest from showing on her face. As volunteers streamed into the dining hall, she swallowed the lump in her throat, pressed her palm to her stomach, and directed the project as planned.

More children arrived giggling and singing, 🎶”Come live with me and be my love...”🎶 It was the beginning of District 4’s wedding song, which they’d started learning in school. 🎶”...I'll take you out upon the sea...”🎶 drew them into conversation about how the ocean might look, feel, sound, smell, and taste. None of them had ever been to the seashore. They’d only seen it in books.

🎶”...To share the starry night with you...” 🎶 intrigued them too. Some of the children from 12 tried to describe the stars to the kids from 13 who had never been above ground at night. “A star is like the tip of the flame of a candle that never flickers.”... “They just pop out in the sky as it’s changing from blue to black.”... “My grandma says stars are ghosts that come to visit us at night. Good ghosts, not scary ones.”... “Ghosts ain’t real.”... “Are so!”... “Are not!”

Dozens of adults were there to cut wire and strips of tape for the younger children and to ensure the garlands turned out beautifully.

With so many helping hands, Effie had to let go of her precise plans. The work of other artisans became apparent as some patterns emerged which were even more pleasing than what Plutarch and Effie envisioned.

Boggs showed up, carrying his son on his hip. The boy seemed younger than Posy, though Effie was far from an expert about children under 12. Boggs sat at a table with the boy in his lap. The little one reached for the leaves just as Boggs’ communicuff started flashing wildly. “Damon, buddy, President Coin is calling. I’ve just lost my break time. I’m going to need to take you back to daycare, but maybe Miss Trinket will let you take one of the leaves with you?” Boggs gave Effie a pleading look. The last thing he needed just then was an upset kid.

Damon’s big brown eyes welled up with tears. He wiped them away with the backs of his hands which were filled with leaves that he didn’t want to let go. Since the epidemic, Boggs and his son had been on their own. Looking into those teary eyes, Effie couldn’t help but feel for them. The feeling seeped into that empty space in her chest, and eased a bit of the void.

“Your son can stay awhile, if you’d like. Then I can take him back to daycare.”

“Are you sure? He’s a handful, and you have a lot going on here.”

Seeing herself in the moment as “scary ghost” rather than a star, Effie definitely was NOT sure that she was the right person to be looking after a young child. “Of course, I’m sure,” she spoke through her smiling mask.

“What do you say, buddy? Do you want to stay with Miss Trinket and make a garland, or do you want me to take you back to daycare now?”

“It’s Effie. The only one who calls me Miss Trinket around here is Mr. Heavensbee.” She laughed.

Damon climbed down from Boggs’ lap and up into Effie’s. “Oh! Well, hello,” she said, pushing her chair back far enough to make room for him. He was heavier than he’d looked in the strong arms of his father. He squirmed around reaching for everything at once: more leaves of every shape and color, scissors...

Boggs’ eyes widened.

Effie handed Damon a roll of tape in trade for the scissors. “You can hold the tape, and I’LL do the cutting.”

‘Thank you,’ Boggs mouthed the words then told his son, “This is an important job, soldier. Effie is your commanding officer. Are you going to take this work seriously and mind what she tells you to do?”

“Yeth, thir, Daddy, thir!” His lisp melted Effie’s heart.

“At ease, little man. I’ll pick you up from daycare at 18:00.” Boggs kissed his son’s forehead, and Damon was already hard at work attempting to peel tape off the roll.

As Effie helped the boy put leaves on the wire, Posy returned, accompanied by one of her brothers who hurried to claim an open seat next to Cord. Posy skipped up to Effie and patted her head. “I got Vick to come, but Rory’s stubborn. YOU know how boys can be.”

Effie looked up from the table to see Haymitch leaning against a pillar near the edge of the dining hall. He was watching her closely. The expression on his face was a loaded mix of curiosity and seriousness.

“Yes, I do know how boys can be,” Effie agreed, “Especially when they are afraid.”

Haymitch had never seen Effie around little kids, and he was fascinated. The Hawthorne girl chattered on and on, tucking leaf stems into the top knot of Effie’s kerchief. Boggs’ kid was in Effie’s lap, crushing leaves with his hands and unwrapping tape for her to cut with scissors. A girl Haymitch didn’t recognize sat to the side, touching Effie’s bracelet. “Is this silver and gold?” the kid asked.

“This s costume jewelry,” Effie answered.

“What’s ‘costume’?” the girl wanted to know.

“A costume is... something you might wear when you are... pretending.”

The Hawthorne girl said to the other one, “You can wear one of my pink ribbons sometime, and we can pretend to be twins... if Effie finds my ribbons in 12 tomorrow.”

Effie locked eyes with Haymitch. “I promised I’d look, Posy, but please don’t get your hopes up, dear.”

He was trying to make sense of the situation. Effie’s going to 12 tomorrow? Why? And why is nobody telling me anything! Pissed off, he started to walk away.

“Excuse me, girls. Damon, let’s go talk to Haymitch for a few minutes.” Effie stood up, holding the boy on her hip as Boggs had done. “Haymitch! Wait...” She caught up to him before the staircase. If he’d really wanted to avoid her, he would have already been long gone.

“What are you thinking!?” he asked, unsure of what he was wondering about most... Why was Effie going to 12 where the burned corpses of his people were still rotting? Why didn’t she tell him about her plans? And what the hell was his heart doing as he watched her with those little kids?

“Annie needs help selecting one of Cinna’s dresses for the wedding, and Katniss asked if I could go with them for support. So, of course, I said yes. ...Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me nothing, sweetheart. But it’s bad there. You’re going to see things that’ll change you.”

“I’m already changing.” She boosted the kid up on her hip. “There’s nothing I can do to stop that. ...And I don’t think I want to stop it.”

Damon dropped the leaves and rubbed his eyes. “Are you tired... buddy?” Effie hesitantly used one of Boggs’ nicknames for the boy. He shook his head ‘no’, but rubbed his eyes again. “How about we take these leaves to daycare so you can show your daddy?”

Damon nodded and opened his hands to the floor where the leaves had fallen. Haymitch bent to pick them up and handed them back to the kid. He stood close to them. Effie smelled like the woods, faintly like ginger, and mostly like her. The fragrances helped him feel less agitated. They were familiar, as if less was changing all at once.

“Thank you,” she said about the leaves, “Will you please tell Delly where I’m going and ask her to stay until I return?”

“Sure”

She rested her palm on Haymitch’s shirt where his sweater gaped open. She brushed her fingertips along the buttons. “Will YOU stay until I return? I could really use your help hanging these garlands in Special Defense.”

Her touch felt too good for him to say no.

The peace in his expression was answer enough for her.

As he watched her walk away, a smile crept over his face. He was far too amused to remind Effie that the Hawthorne girl had embellished her head wrap with at least a dozen leaves. In all the years, it was the best *wig* he’d seen her wear. If she was going to roam around 13 looking like a tree, then who was he to stop her?

[miaouerie]

whumptober 2020 ------ day 12. broken trust

@whumptober2020​ Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.

content warnings: none

previous: day 1 / 2  / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

“Pleasantries aside, how have you been doing, Cassian ? I have several sources keen to tell me about how involved you’ve been in this year’s Games.” Caesar Flickerman’s pale green eyebrows rise with the implicit question; as always, they match the same shade of his hair and lips.

Cassian gives him a half-smile. “I hope your sources aren’t telling you everything, Caesar. Some of those things are best left to the imagination… but yes, it’s true.” He reclines back against the plush sofa while the audience ripples with laughter, then crosses an ankle over a knee as he drapes an arm atop the backrest. “I do my best by my tributes—but I’ll admit it, I’ve been particularly motivated for these Games.”

“This is your fourth year of mentorship—solo mentorship—so far. What makes this year’s Hunger Games different for you?”

Caesar didn’t intend to imply this, but it’s true that each year is more or less the same: twenty-four children are rounded up, trussed with the extravagances of the Capitol, and then set loose to kill each other in a fight to the death for their audience’s entertainment. Cassian knows that. He also knows that what he’s about to speak into existence is exactly the kind of unexpected, audacious untruth the Capitol will gobble right up. He’s going to do what he does best: feed lies into the Capitol’s entertainment machine while trying to keep from being swallowed up by it himself. It’s something he was born into, what he struggles to live under, what he will have to condemn Jyn to in order to save her.

So instead of answering Caesar right away Cassian makes a show of looking around at the audience, bites his bottom lip nervously. Caesar places a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “It’s okay, Cassian. Surely it isn’t anything too surprising?”

“Well... She is what’s different. My—er, the female tribute. Jyn Erso.” Whispers surge all around them in the audience. After Peridot Starlight’s aired exclusive footage of Jyn and Cassian on Day 0, other talk shows scrambled to pick up the beat; by now, it’s been a strong undercurrent in this year’s Games coverage, and now the victor himself has confirmed it. Cassian Andor, the Capitol’s tragic golden boy, has had his head turned—and by his own tribute, what misfortune! He nearly tricks himself with the amount of yearning that slips into his voice, which rings out clear amidst the audience’s palpable excitement. “I want to bring her home.”

“Oh? I think I speak for most of us when I say that, so I’ll say it again: Oh?” Caesar says with a sly wink as the audience cheers. “Tell us the love story.”

“I fell for her a week ago,” Cassian confesses. “After the reaping, before we even got to the Capitol. Our time together ended too soon; I didn’t want that week to end. Remember the amazing outfits Kay created for her? He asked for my input and that was when I told him about the first thing I ever noticed about her. ‘She has stardust in her eyes.’” The audience murmurs excitedly, and Cassian briefly imagines what image of Jyn they’ll edit in for the broadcast. “Before she left, before I let her go…. we made a promise to each other. That I would do everything I can to bring her home.”

There; the audience is now besides itself with the potentials of a taboo romance. Mentor-tribute relations were not unheard of but they never lasted longer than the week leading up to the Hunger Games, for obvious reasons. In the past some tributes even used it as a tactic, to try to ensure at least a single stake in their survival. But the entire practice was kept in the dark. Not Cassian’s stunt: by encircling Jyn with his own notoriety, the two of them and their supposed romance has become the talk of the Capitol. There was no way Snow could possibly kill him over this.

When Cassian gets back to 5’s district floor alone an Avox is waiting for him with a powder blue envelope. He holds his breath as he breaks the seal and opens it—maybe there was some way Snow could twist this back on him, after all—but on the card is the usual three lines, each with a name, a place, and a time.

He sits down at the large table just past the foyer, but within view of it; Draven stayed at Headquarters to field the expected flood of sponsorship calls, but hopefully he’ll return to the Tower soon so they can discuss and re-strategize before his prep team comes to sort him out for this evening’s client.

Will he have to lie to Draven? The thought briefly crosses his mind. Yes, it would best to get on like he has no allies in this. Like in the Arena. He’ll have to live out the lie thoroughly, if he’s to fool the man who’s been in his life longer than his own father. But that’s no matter. 

Will he have to lie to Jyn? He doesn’t want to think about that yet. Right now she’s in the Arena; she’ll have no idea of what he’s done until after she’s won. And if helping her win means falling in love with Jyn Erso for those in the Capitol to see a tribute they want to save, he’ll do it.