#kind of like finnick loving annie from the hunger games

[targaryenluvs]

— HUNGER GAMES

a/n: look at my cute lil smiley fin 😭 god i love hunger games so much you don’t understand it’s my comfort movies and finn is my comfort character ❤️

RED MARKED STORIES HAVE DARK THEMES. READ WARNINGS PLEASE.

FINNICK ODAIR

— want and desire (req) dark themes

— summary: you’d thought you’d escaped the capitol, and to some extent, him, the ever so sweet and charming finnick odair. but apparently your fate had been signed, as it seemed you couldn’t get away from him, no matter how hard you tried.

— spring cleaning (blurb req)

— summary: finnick finally decides to clean out the garage with your help after you asking him forever.

— victors spoils

— summary: a victor should be celebrated! a victor should get what ever they wish, even if it’s a sweet capitol girl who misplaced her kindness in someone who was in desperate need of reprieve and distraction.

— lonely waters

— summary: even if you resided in the fishing district you only ever got close to the water for swimming late at night. it was your favourite time of the day, but it leaves you open and vulnerable to predators and people, the water won’t save you.. silly girl, don’t you remember? finnick odairs a champion swimmer.

— my people ft annie cresta

— summary: you’d been hired to help keep annie’s home clean and to keep her company. what you didn’t expect was to fall in love with her. and to find out that she was with finnick, and annie doesn’t want to let either of you go. but you’ve found your people, and you couldn’t be happier.

— miss officer

— summary: you’re tasked with training finnick odair for war and to fight in the captiol. only problem? he’s completely enamoured with you.

— breakups and makeups

— summary: you and finnick used to date, but it took a nasty turn when you heard rumours of his dalliances. but now the two of you reunite apart of the same alliance. will you make up or break up? again?

— damage control & lifeline (anon blurb)

— summary: finnick and his mentor getting into a fake relationship for damage control after peeta and katniss’ stunt at the 74th games + finnick saving his stylist from execution by proposing marriage.

— unrequited (anon blurb, implied smut)

— summary: you’d divulged one to many secrets to your favourite victor and he wasn’t afraid of using them against you. karmas a bitch!

— oh baby! (smut)

— summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

— capitol girl (req blurb)

— summary: finnick loves his favourite victor.

— love you best part two (req, smut)

— summary: your boyfriend doesn’t exactly like you around other men without him.

CORIOLANUS SNOW

— trapped

— summary: after the 10th hunger games, coriolanus set his sights on a girl from his younger years to be his wife. disgusted by his actions and scared by the rumours your family agreed. as you realise he wasn’t the same boy from before, snow finds himself intrigued, especially when you seem to be visiting a friends house too often.

— delicate*

— summary: coriolanus had to marry. lucky for him one of the most eligible girls of the capitol was up for grabs. only problem? he hoped his cold exterior would keep her away but nothing broke her sweet spirit. what happens when he finds himself being drawn to her light? and how far was he willing to go to keep it untainted and all to himself?

— ravage delicate pt 2

— summary: he’d won the election, much to your elation. now you’d have to navigate the fame, fortune and status as the first lady of panem. but coriolanus just wanted you all to himself, and he’d do anything to scare you into his arms.

— safe and sound ft lucy gray baird

— summary: somehow you’d ended up in the games, snow and lucy would do anything to keep you safe.

— worth it

summary: coriolanus made the mistake of protecting lucy gray during the bombing, rather than you.

— runaway

summary: you’d always considered coriolanus to be a friend of yours. family even. but after sejanus’s death you find him to be off. he’s keeping something from your family and you’ve run out of time to get as far away as you can.

— our little dove ft lucy gray baird

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— our little dove alt ending

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— late to the party

— summary: after corio was sent away to district 12, your managed to come to terms with the fact that he did not love you by any means. but what happens when he realises he liked that affection? and what happens when you’re already in a relationship?

— brown jewel (req)

— summary: he was a lifeline and you’d grabbed on in hopes to avoid the reaping, but you were coriolanus’ obsession and he was not going to let you go.

— temper tantrum (req)

— summary: you were the daughter of one of the richest couples of panem. everything you’ve ever wanted, handed to you. coriolanus had a short temper and you were stubborn. who knows what could happen?

— mr president (req)

— summary: mr president seems to be especially enamoured with his favourite maid, you.

— all grown up (smut)

— summary: you were always tigris's annoying rich friend to coriolanus, but once he returns from 12 you seem to be irresistible, not only to him.

— charity (req)

— summary: president snow was praised for his love and devotion to his wife, a cripple. if only they knew how you’d ended up that way.

— love you best (req, smut, read as coryo or finnick)

— summary: your boyfriend doesn’t like you around other men without him.

PEETA MELLARK

— sweet like sugar (blurb req)

— summary: peeta teaches you how to bake since you’re nowhere near as good as you thought, not that you’d admit it.

—paranoia (dark req)

— summary: peeta tries to reintegrate into society in district 13 and get over his fear of you being taken from him. no one noticed just how badly the capitol messed him up until he lashes out.

SEJANUS PLINTH

— coming soon!

LUCY GRAY BAIRD

— safe and sound ft coriolanus snow

— summary: somehow you’d ended up in the games, snow and lucy would do anything to keep you safe.

— destined

— summary: you and lucy enjoy time together at the lake.

—our little dove ft coriolanus snow

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— our little dove alt ending

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

KATNISS EVERDEEN

— coming soon!

JOHANNA MASON

— underestimate (blurb req)

— summary: johanna learns not to underestimate you.

ANNIE CRESTA

— my people ft finnick odair

— summary: you’d been hired to help keep annie’s home clean and to keep her company. what you didn’t expect was to fall in love with her. and to find out that she was with finnick, and annie doesn’t want to let either of you go. but you’ve found your people, and you couldn’t be happier.

TRIBUTE!READER

— coming soon!

(in general, no ship just the reader in the arena, with katniss n peeta etc)

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (Catching Fire, Ch. 24-25)

katniss being angry that peeta hasn't come to help her before she realises he literally can't

peeta putting his hand up against the wall and her putting hers up to meet him. these two are so angsty romance-coded

"i just stare at his face, doing my best to hang onto my sanity"

peeta holding and rocking katniss on his lap, lifting her chin so she looks at him. husband. he loves her so much.

(as an aside, johanna and finnick basically being katniss's and peeta's older siblings is so adorable. what a cute fun brokem damaged little family)

when katniss finds out that finnick loves a "poor, mad girl back home", i can't not think of the parallels being set up between annie/finnick and peeta/katniss in the next book

ah the beach scene

"everything. that's what peeta wants me to take from him"

"i realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if peeta dies. me"

"i do. i need you"

i'm dead at this point. how can people say katniss didn't love peeta. i got the evidence right here!

So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. 

the idea of peeta trying to talk despite katniss kissing him and then just giving up is too much

the warmth that grows inside of her exclusively due to peeta

the line about a new kind of hunger. bars

she's so down bad for him, and i think she truly realises here, even if she doesn't let herself think about it too much.

finnick waking up and realising the way they're wrapped around eachother and being like... "um get a room? if you want?" is hilarious too

i truly wonder how far they would've gone if they hadn't been interrupted by the lightning bolt. judging by katniss saying there's nothing to stop them this time but them, i think she might've not stopped at all. and the wrapping around each other. i know they were about to cut away in the capitol feeds.

peeta again being husband and making katniss lie down and leading her to bed. "i let him lead me over to where the others are." the "i let him." this books is just a masterpiece in showing the change in their dynamics.

lol at katniss being like "fuck no" at the suggestion of having kids with gale. "for one thing, that's never been part of my plan." like how much clearer has she got to make it. contrasting this to when peeta dropped the baby bomb and she was like: it could be true by now if it wasn't for the games, right? she's so shameless

i honestly feel like crying every time katniss says she thinks of peeta's child safe in the meadows. the fact that it's just peeta's child makes me think that the unnamed, unidentified unspoken of mother, is her. like that's who she's picturing in this fantasy, in this dream.

"when i wake, i have a brief delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with peeta" and she clings to it as long as she can

just something so beautiful that all this talk of love and family and peace and the future is linked with peeta and thus her own happiness. like my heart aches for her.

she can't look at peeta the next morning after their kissing the night before. i think a big part of it was because she just allowed herself to think all these thoughts involving peeta and then came back down to earth very quickly and realised that this wasn't possible for her because of the QQ

the pearl, their inside joke because of effie! the fact they remembered, the fact that they laugh together like this even with everything going on

katniss determining that peeta is her biggest enemy because their desires are the complete opposite when it comes to survival. "i promise myself i will defeat his plan." and even despite them both realising they're at odds, despite peeta not being able to look at her after, they sit together hand in hand.

the pearl and everything it comes to symbolise with these two kills me.

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇

Summary: You will do whatever it takes to protect Finnicnk in the Quater Qulle, even if that means sacrificing yourself.

Pairing: (mention) Annie X Finnick, Finnick x Reader.

Word count: 821

Warnings: unreciprocated feeling (one-sided on the reader's side) ANGST!!, love confessions, the reader being sad about the circumstances.

A/N: I watched TBOSBAS which made me rewatch all the THG movies... I fell in love with Finnick Odair again and wrote this. This is my FIRST time writing anything for the THG fandom so please be kind, this may not be the best but i like how it came out. As always let me know if I missed tagging something :)

Read part 2 here

"The male and Female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district"

As soon as President Snow said those words, the breath in your lungs physically disappeared from your body. You were immobile and felt as though you had been transported back in time to when you were a little 15-year-old girl and heard her name called at the 68th Hunger Games reaping.

You quickly knew what was to come, you had to volunteer as tribute. If Finnick's name was to be called you were willing to volunteer to protect him at any cost. You deeply loved Finnick even if he did not reciprocate your love back.

You also knew that if Annie were to be called Mags would volunteer to save her, but just like Mags, you couldn't fathom having Mags back in the games either. You stood up wiping your tears away; from this point on you needed to be strong.

Knowing that Annie's house would be where they would all be, you went there. As soon as you walked in, you could hear Annie's weak sobs as Finnick was holding her. The image broke your heart because, deep down, all you wanted was to be Annie, cuddled up in Finnick's cozy embrace, right now.

When Mags emerged from the kitchen, you sprang to give her a firm embrace. You whispered in her ear, "It will be okay mags, I promise I'll bring him back to you both," but all she did was hold you more tightly. You glanced up, meeting Finnick's gaze, and cracked a smile.

The days before the reaping passed quickly as you made an effort to avoid Finnick, which was initially successful. You were fully aware of the need for these precious moments between him and Annie.

When the day came sure enough Finnick's name was called, " Now our female tribute from District Four is Ma-" the mayor couldn't finish as you interrupted. " I volunteer as tribute!" you moved to stand next to Finnick holding his hand. " Wow! Our tributes from District Four Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N!"

Once your goodbyes were said and you stepped foot on the train you let out a sigh, Finnick looked up from where he was staring at the floor. You’ve tried to get him to move and stall the process of talking to him, but his feet are locked in place.

“Finnick, move.” You tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “It’s not happening, Y/n, why would you volunteer? You should've stayed here in District Four.” You take in a breath, shaking your head, “I need to start getting ready now if we plan on being on time to the capitol. We can talk about this as I get ready.” You point to the side to get him to move. “I’m serious, Finnick. Get out of the way.”

“I'm not moving” He shrugs. You huff out a sound of frustration." If you want to have this conversation right now then at least sit down please" you gestured for him to sit. He listened and sat down. " Why would you volunteer? I could've protected Mags and Annie"

"You're saying you wouldn't be able to protect me?" you questioned back with hurt. " no i- that's not what I meant, if something happens to you I can't let myself live knowing you died trying to protect me" he leans back looking out the window. " Mags told me what you whispered to her the night Snow announced the Quarter Quell. You'd promise to bring me back safe to them. But I can't let you do that because.." he pauses

"Because what fin?" you already know what he's going to say, every time he says it, it pushes you further into the deep end hurting your heart.

He looks to meet your gaze "Because I love you, and I can't lose you just for the benefit of protecting me. I just can't you mean too much to me"

You scoff at his admission "That's just it, you may love me Finnick, but you are not in love with me! I am the one who's in love with you, and I am the one suffering!" You smile sadly at him as you both know this was true and he hated himself for it."At the end of the day, I am willing to protect you at all costs, because you are the only person I have left in my life who I love. Mags and Annie need you more than I do" You wipe away the tears that are now freely falling. " So that's why I volunteered" You get up from the chair. " I think we should get ready now, we will be at the capitol soon" You leave the room fast to not cry anymore, you know now that Finnick knows he'd tried his best to protect you even more.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

would you write something for johanna (thg) x fem!reader where the others (like peeta, katniss, finnick etc.) always see the tough sarcastic sides to her, but then they see her around her gf (reader) whos really soft and gentle like opposites of her and they see that shes johannas soft spot? sorry for the terrible english!

Bestie I love this, let's imagine together that district 13 is fine and not run by a crazy bitch alright? LMAO I love writing non-canon for the hunger games people cuz they can all be together and happy :)

When Johanna and the others were rescued from the capital and we were all reunited, people noticed a difference in her compared to how she was before. She was still herself, witty, with dark humor, beautiful even without her long, silky hair. But there was a new side to her that most people, other than Finnick, never saw.

That's the side that she showed when she's with me.

We met nearly a month after her first games. She was on her victory tour and I was a painter in District two and she would say that I caught her eye from the crowd, so much that she had to find me and ask for my name and an address that she could write to me.

No one would really imagine her as a romantic but damn the girl was good and she swept me off my feet in only a few months. She wrote to me, sure, her last letter coming in right before the quarter quell. When we found out that she would be reaped again and brought back into the place that brought her so much torment- neither of us could comprehend it.

I thought I was never going to see her again.

That was until she had a friend of hers, a peace keeper in my district, sneak me out of my district and into thte capital where I could see her and I did. We spent the night together and that's when she told me about the plan to get Katniss and the others out of the arena. She also informed me of the greatest secret that they were all keeping- Discrict 13 was alive and well and ready to accommodate the pressure and stress of a full revolution.

When I found out that she was taken by the capital, my whole world fell apart. It was probably the only thing that Katniss and I were able to bond over, the fact that our lovers were in the clutches of President Snow and being used as propoganda. It was horrible.

So when it was agreed upon that they would be rescued, I jumped at the opportunity to go with Gale and help them in the process of getting them out of the capital, no matter what it took.

When we finally reunited in the jet, it was like the whole world stopped. As if every piece of me that was missing was finally back in it's right spot, like a missing puzzle piece she was finally back in my arms.

"It's kind of cute that they could do this." Johanna whispers in my ear, watching Finnick and Annie dance around in circles in the middle of a huge, loving crowd. I turn to her with a fond smile and nod, leaning into her the slightest bit as Katniss approaches us with a sarcastic smile on her lips, as always.

"You two look couple-y." She chuckles and I smile, clutching onto Johanna's hand that rests on my thigh and I feel her tense up as if she's taking it personally.

"That's what happens when you're a couple, genius." She snaps with a sarcastic tone and I huff, giving her a gentle bump with my shoulder and she mutters a quiet 'sorry' under her breath.

"I'm just saying, after everything we've been through, it's nice to see you actually act like a nice person." There's a pause for a moment, as if the two of them are finally understanding each other and instead of passive aggression, Johanna responds differently, taking even me off guard.

"Yeah well she brings it out in me like Peeta does with you." My heart warms for a moment as she sends me a small smile, her cheeks blushed in a deep red and her chin dips downward to conceal it.

"That's really sweet actually." Katniss sits beside me with a huff, motioning to the crowds of people in front of us that are cheerfully dancing and singing around the happy couple. "You guys don't dance?"

"I do, she doesn't." I jut my thumb in Johanna's direction but she just laughs and turns to me with an unconvinced look.

"You could convince me but you haven't asked."

"Please dance with me." I nearly immediately beg, standing up out of my chair so I can grab her hands and tug her towards the dancefloor, wanting nothing more than for people to see her happy and loved, especially Finnich given how much he worries for Johanna.

"Yes, ma'am." She sighs and turns to throw a wink at Katniss who just laughs and claps her hands at us.

"Wow, you're whipped."

"Pipe down, Everdeen."

[french-unknown]

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

finnick odair x little sister!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Since you met Finnick when you were only 6 years old, you immediately thought of each other as brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, the Hunger Games do not spare children.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: none

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 900

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

[ m a s t e r l i s t ]

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍

Mags is your grandmother from your mother’s side so you grew up in District 4 in Victors’ Village with your whole family.

You had a sweet childhood, which makes you a nice and quite innocent child when it comes to the world you live in, and you were very close to your grandmother who often took care of you. Your family grew without ever being in need thanks to the pension of the former victor but nevertheless remained very humble and appreciated by the district because you were all devoted to charitable works.

The subject of the Hunger Games has always been a sensitive subject, however, and no one was watching the Games at home.

When you were 6, Finnick - then 14 years old - won his Games and also moved to the Victors' Village.

He immediately formed a kind of brother-sister relationship with you, where he was the one who looked after you when your parents were not there. He also went with you to school, which was the same as his, and waited for you in the evening so that you could go home together. He was truly the sweetest big brother in the world who kept reminding you that you were his little princess.

Your relationship improved even more when Annie Cresta came to settle down when you were 11 because the three of you often hung out together. You were over the moon when you found out they were together.

Unfortunately, you were nominated as the female tribute of the 73rd Hunger Games when you were only 14 years old.

There was panic in your family: your parents wouldn't let go of you as they hugged you in the back room and you saw Mags crying silently in a corner. During the whole preparation period, all of them who were mentors came with you and did their best to teach you the techniques to hide and to survive during the Games.

Just before entering the arena, your grandmother gave you her necklace with an oyster shell so that you would have a souvenir of her.

Luckily for you, the arena for the 73rd Hunger Games was "City Ruins" so so the weather conditions weren't extreme and you had plenty of hiding places to hide in "comfortably". You used your skills and, just like the District 6 Morphlings and Mags before, you were able to survive in the arena without having to fight with anyone. Plus, you were very popular on Capitol because you were a child and also as a descendant of a previous victor from the first generation. So, coupled with the fact that Finnick and Mags had gone out of their way to get you sponsors, you received a lot of gifts that helped you a lot during the Games.

You were greeted like a miracle on your way home.

However, the stress of your nomination as well as her old age got the better of Mags, who passed away before the start of the 74th Hunger Games.

When the 3rd Quarter Quell was announced, when you were 16, you were in shock and yet, when you heard Annie's name as a tribute, you volunteered in her place. You considered her your big sister and loved her as such, so knowing her psychological state, you preferred to take a chance rather than let her die. When you were in private with Finnick, he thanked you for saving her and promised to always protect you no matter what, as the precious little sister you were for him.

You joined the Rebellion alongside Finnick.

As the start of the Games cannon thundered, you jumped into the water to swim to the catwalk. Thanks to your swimming abilities in your district, you were one of the first to go out of the water. However, while you were locating yourself in the arena as well as where Finnick and your allies were, you didn't see Enobaria who emerged from the water at your feet to come and bite your Achilles tendon until it was bloody. You managed to push her back into the water before running to Finnick, whom you had spotted at the Cornucopia, and collapsing at his feet, unable to walk.

He carried you on his back for the rest of the Games where he defended you tooth and nail against all threats such as the fog, monkey mutts or other tributes. You comforted him as best you could after his time with the mockingjays.

Given your physical proximity to him before the dome exploded, he used his last strength to crawl up to you before the hovercraft took him away. So you were picked up in the same basket as him.

So you were sent to District 13 where you both eagerly awaited Annie's return and, when she finally came back and she and Finnick finally got married, you were their maid of honor. When Finnick then left with the expedition squad to the Capitol, you stayed in the underground District where you learned from Annie that your entire family was executed by Snow after you disappeared due to your rebellion. Once Finnick returned and you all witnessed the execution of Snow and Coin, the three of you settled back into District 4.

You have the house right next to theirs.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @amonett @zodiyack

[danisbrainrot]

Hi can you please do some headcanons about how dating Johanna will be like

Like who would say i love you first, and what type of a date she'll take you, how would she act when she gets jealous, how would she act when reader gets jealous....

If you can't totally fine

oh absolutely!!

you'd have to be friends (who flirted all the time) before you started dating. she's very untrusting after being in the hunger games and losing everyone she loves because of snow, so your relationship has to start on some level of already built trust.

you'd start dating AFTER the rebellion because she didn't want to risk your life, knowing that snow wouldn't hesitate to kill you if she made one wrong move.

you'd definitely be the one to say "I love you" first, because she's afraid of showing her emotional needs. but I think she'd realise she loves you early on. or at least she cares deeply and can't live without you.

I think she likes small, intimate dates at home, or a small picnic in the woods, rather than something fancy. she's a simple girl, and she wants to focus all her attention on you. besides, after being thrust into the limelight because of the capitol, she wants some privacy.

she's a very jealous individual, because she thinks you can do a whole lot better (even though you swear you can't). she'll even try to push you away when she's feeling extra jealous. you have to be patient with her. I don't think there would be many opportunities for her to get jealous, most people let her keep to herself and know that you're both madly in love.

you two have baths together. ever since being tortured in the capitol she can't stand to bathe alone and she needs your comfort to help her get through it. like obviously she doesn't want to stink, but it's such a chore for her, that she needs you with her for support. it's never really sexual, more of an intimate thing, but it can definitely get steamy once she's comfortable enough.

she's not a physical affection kind of girl. but she also craves your touch. anyone else touches her? yuck, ew, get the fuck away from her. you? she can't keep her hands off you when you're alone. in public, she's more reserved. (she loves her sweet lady kisses!!)

she hates mornings. she'll do anything in her power to keep you and her under the covers. she'll just hold you, beg you not to get up and if that doesn't work, will pepper your face with kisses to convince you to stay.

her favourite place is in your arms. she loves to rest her head against your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat and feeling the warmth you provide. it's her safe haven.

also, I've definitely written a blurb about it before, but when she wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying, she instantly tries to find your arms and wrap herself in you.

she values safety and comfort above everything else. that's why she loves you so much, because you are both of those things. she's so traumatised and you're so patient with her, that she treats you like the princess you are. she's soft and gentle, but she can be harsh and snap, but you keep up with her mood swings and she'll feel eternally grateful for it.

bonus: she's best friends with finnick and annie (even being the godmother of their son), so you become best friends with them as well.

[rose-pearls]

The Hunger Games Masterlist

Welcome to my Hunger Games Masterlist, requests are open and if you want to have a look at other fandoms you can go right here: Main Masterlist

Peeta Mellark

Oneshot:

Small pastry box

You find a small pastry box on the counter, what could it be?

Series:

Watching you go

Your boyfriend Peeta gets picked for the Hunger Games and during these games he appears to be a couple with Katniss and just as things couldn't get worse Haymitch calls with news. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Finnick Odair

Oneshot:

How are you holding up?

District thirteen is not an enjoyable place but a conversation with Finnick helps to make it more enjoyable.

Right where you left me

Finnick and you had to marry back in the Capitol but as you fell in love with him, Finnick fell for Annie. District 13 breaks everything.

Flower Arrangements

You find yourself in district four with the other victors to honour your fallen families, Finnick by your side.

Request:

I don't think I can do this anymore

Maybe reader was sold off similar to finnick and they bonded over the trauma of it and in the 3rd quarter quell they have a little sweet moment where readers like "i just dont think i can do it anymore'' and finnick comforts them and they cuddle a bit

Blood on your hands

Mentor!finnick x tribute!fem!reader. Maybe this is a year or two after finnicks victor. Maybe reader had to be extremely brutal in the games and when they come back theyre covered in blood and just traumatized and finnick has to comfort them

Saving him - Part 2

Fem!district 3!reader x finnick odair. Finnick trying to protect reader in the quarter quell but reader saves his life

Prompt:

Yelling at the other because you were scared to lose them

Series:

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

This wasn't the plan, yet there you were victor of district twelve of the 75th Hunger Games Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Final Part

Specials

Christmas list: Full of Christmas prompts with different characters from different universes

Gale Hawthorne

Oneshot:

Talk

Your older brother and you have a conversation after everything that happened. (reader is his sister)

[laceswan]

The Angel of Hope

The Smiling Princess, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

Finnick Odair x fem!dancer!reader

What if the equivalent of a Disney Princess was thrown into the Hunger Games? Sylke is optimistic and has an affinity for all that is gentle and sweet. What happens when she is placed in an arena and forced to kill or be killed?

Fluff and angst, strangers to lovers, T/W: canon-typical violence

Part 5 is out!

Finnick’s leg was bouncing uncontrollably. He was hunched over with his hands close to covering his mouth. His eyes were wide, staring at the screen in front of him. He didn’t normally watch the news, but this was important. President Snow, the man he hated most in the world, was looking right back at him on that screen. That voice would never sound anything but vile in Finnick’s ears. That voice was the one who threatened his family, his friends, the root of so much evil, and all done with that snake-like smile. Finnick tuned out of his thoughts just long enough to hear his words.

“…are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors…”

His head snapped up to look more directly at the screen. Snow was calm, smiling like he hadn’t just broken a promise. Finnick’s mind went immediately to Mags. Exiting his house, he walked quickly to the adjacent one to see his mentor. Mags and Annie were sitting at a table, the remote for the tv still in Annie’s hand. She looked on the verge of tears, staring down at the grain of the wooden table. Mags called Finnick over with a small movement of her hand. She looked to him with kind eyes as she signed.

“Let’s go to the shore.”

Finnick nodded, helping her up from the chair. He tapped Annie’s shoulder. She didn’t look up.

“We’re going to the shore, you should join us.”

She nodded and got up, never once taking her eyes off the ground. They strolled out of Victor’s Village down to the beach in silence. The sun was setting when they sat down on the sand, silently watching the sky slowly darken. Finnick’s mind wandered to Sylke. He wondered if he would ever see her again. If he would ever see her lips curl into that lovely smile, if he would ever get to show her that he never forgot how to waltz.

The next few days passed quickly and yet not fast enough. Being the only living male victor in their district, Finnick knew he would be reaped. He flashed his signature Casanova smile when the camera focused on him. He expected--he knew--that his stomach would drop upon hearing the other tribute get reaped, but he never could have anticipated just how much. His heart felt immensely heavy when Annie’s name was called, and only more so when Mags raised her hand. The three of them only had a moment before he and Mags were whisked away to the capitol. They didn’t say much on the train ride, just gazing out the window. Through each of the districts, signs of rebellion and rioting were present for those looking. Finnick saw them and couldn’t help but wonder what part he, the capitol’s prince, would play in the inevitable rebellion. He’d always held disdain for the capitol, ever since they mercilessly killed an angel ten years ago. Many nights after his victory were spent wallowing in his own self-pity, hopelessly letting his mind torture itself with thoughts and memories of her. When he turned sixteen, that depressive melancholy shifted to a simmering and spiteful sort of anger. She was alive, but not smiling. And if she was ever to regain that smile, perhaps see him again, he would have to play by the capitol’s rules. Such powerlessness in his own story and agency had a way of infuriating him, which he was able to channel into machinations for his own gain. It was never something he was proud of, that he resorted to secrets and blackmail to survive, but what else was he to do? Sylke always had that ability to hope, to see the little joys. Perhaps that was how she kept her sanity. He didn’t have that skill, at least not to her degree. Even ten years ago it had been like this. He was focused on survival, and desperate times called for desperate measures. She didn’t like to stray from her morals, even in the most trying of times. That was what killed her in the end. Finnick couldn’t have that. He needed to survive, to keep going, and that meant he needed to play the game. Only recently was there a glimmer of hope that it didn’t need to be this way. When Katniss and Peeta were both crowned victors, there was hope that things could change. When they were fourteen, Sylke had a way of making things seem hopeful. That air of possibility returned when the rebellions began. Perhaps it wasn’t naïveté, perhaps she had been right to hope. When they got to the capitol, all of the tributes were whisked away to be prepared for the parade. As they stood by the carriages, the air was thick with tension and discontent. The games were a celebration, at least that’s what the capitol treated it as, with their lavish preparation and roaring crowd. But no one in the spotlight wanted to be there. Finnick kept a smile on his face, but it was clearly one of snark, laughing in the face of struggle simply to make it seem less mortifying. Johanna had mentioned something to him, something that had been on his mind ever since that night at the beach: that things didn’t have to be this way, that maybe they could finally burn it down. Perhaps that is why he was so willing to trust Katniss, the symbol of rebellion. A closer relationship with her might be a step closer to change. When the noise of celebration died down for the night, Finnick enacted his own small rebellion. He knew the streets of the capitol well enough that he could slip quickly through alleys and small one-ways until he reached the life-size dollhouse of Lycan Indigo. In fact he’d done it many times before. Whenever he was in the capitol, Finnick would sneak out to see Sylke. They had no way of communicating specific nights, as his schedule often didn’t prepare that far in advance, and so sometimes she wasn’t even awake when he visited the house. Sometimes she was. A few times, they even spoke. Every year, around this time, Sylke’s letters would mention the magnolias. Once he got to the house, Finnick realised just how accurate her letters had been. Even from the street, he could smell the gentle sweetness in the air. When he got closer he saw her sitting by the window.  She’s awake. Must be fate.  One hand was hanging out of the frame, caressing the petals. There was a book in her lap, probably one of the ones that Mr. Indigo recently let her have. She looked beautiful, glowing like an ethereal, heavenly spirit in the moonlight. Finnick threw some pebbles to the window, making sure to aim a little higher to hit the wall instead of her head. They bounced off the brick, making a noise that roused her from what looked like a daydream. She looked around before fixing her gaze on him. He saw a small smile before she disappeared into the house. After what felt like an eternity, she emerged from a door and ran over to him.

“Finnick!”

She came up to the fence, reaching her arms between the iron bars to touch him. His hands found hers instantly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.”

She smiled, pressing herself even closer. 

“I saw you at the tribute parade. You look so different.”

“You do too. Ten years…”

“Ten years. It almost feels like it didn’t happen.”

Finnick knew what she meant. In her letters she often mentioned how time passed in a haze in that house. And in some ways he agreed with her, it did feel like just yesterday when he felt her go still in his arms. But at the same time, so much had happened in between now and then. And yet, here they were, meeting secretly in the safety of night, before going back into that arena. 

“I wanna dance with you.”

She laughed, a small chuckle that might turn into crying at any moment. 

“I wish we could.”

“I didn’t forget. You taught me how to waltz; I still remember.”

“Finnick…”

Her voice started to crack, her eyes welled as a gentle smile grew on her face. 

“Come back to me and we can see how much you remember.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

“I know… I think you can though. You did it before,”

“That was different.”

“How? You’re stronger and smarter now anyway, who says you won’t be able to win again?”

“The other tributes are stronger and smarter too.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And besides, you’re not gonna be there. I won’t have you there to take care of my wounds or keep a smile on my face. I wouldn’t have made it without you in there.”

Squeezing his hands slightly, she looked him square in the eyes. 

“Don’t say that. Finnick. I have faith that you’ll come back to me. I assume that means you’ll win, but maybe not. Whatever happens, I know that I’ll see you again.”

There was security is her smile. She looked so gently sure of herself and her words. 

“You know I believe in fate. If I somehow survived to see you again, I know you will too.”

There it was. That undying hope and optimism of hers. It occurred to Finnick that he’d never actually mentioned that ability of hers to her. He brought his hand out of her grasp to caress her cheek. 

“I love that smile. I don’t think I ever got to tell you--not with spoken words, at least--just how beautiful it is.”

With cheeks dusted pink, she glanced away, laughing a little. 

“I’m serious. I think that’s why I fell for you. You always have that smile. Even when things are going to shit, you find something to smile about.”

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. 

“It’s divine--angelic, even--your faith in good things.”

With another laugh escaping her lips, she looked back at him with a lighthearted grin. 

“Is that why you always call me Angel?”

“Of course.”

He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her lips. Iron bars were digging into their bodies, but neither of them seemed to notice much less care. It had been so long since they could be so close, since they could kiss without worry or haste. Any and all time limits or responsibilities melted away for a moment. But when that moment was over, Finnick pulled away. He kept their foreheads together when he spoke. 

“I need to go.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Tears were rolling down both of their faces by this point. As much faith as she had, the possibility of his death was still very much present. She couldn’t help but think about him, hold him a little tighter in the hopes she might be able to keep him safe. But she couldn’t. Like he said, she wouldn’t be there this time. 

“You need to go.”

He kissed her quickly. 

“I love you. Never forget that.”

And then he was gone, slipping back into the darkness of capitol alleyways.

Finnick spent the training period trying not to dwell on the people he might be leaving behind. Knot-tying and throwing practice helped him a lot. While taking a moment to breathe, Beetee happened to be in his field of vision. The man with glasses was standing by a screen, familiarising himself with plants and their properties. Finnick was struck with a pang of melancholy recollection. Back then, when they were but children, it was just like this. He would be working with a trident, endlessly throwing at a target until his arm got tired, and he’d switch to the other one. He would steal occasional glances at her, studiously examining leaves. There was one memory in particular that he carried fondly in his heart. She was sitting on the floor, drawings and leafy stalks sprawled out around her, as she read through an herbology book. Perhaps he had been staring too long, for eventually she looked up and met his gaze. A soft smile came to her face and she waved. Finnick was a little flustered as he waved back, but he tried not to let it show. He quickly turned his head to look back at the target, throwing his trident swiftly after. It was the first and only time that day that he missed.  He couldn’t allow himself to reminisce any longer. He threw the knife in his hand, hitting the target with precision as always. 

As the two weeks dragged on, a plan formed. Plutarch had apparently learned about Finnick sneaking out and discretely mentioned it a few days later. As gamemaker, he came to training one day, and after giving a small speech about preparedness and odds being in one’s favour, he approached Finnick. Once they were behind closed doors, he said nothing of Sylke. Finnick had a rope in his hand, something to keep his hands busy during the speech earlier, and he began tying and untying knots as he waiting for Plutarch to mention her, too afraid to reply in hopes he had just imagined it. Instead, Plutarch brought up a plan for rebellion. Finnick was hesitant to trust the gamemaker until he said: 

“If this works it wouldn’t just be you and the other victors that would be free. It would be Sylke too.”

Upon hearing that name, Finnick couldn’t say no. He was filled with a burning hope. He could almost see it, the day where nothing held them back, the day where they could dance as long as they wanted. No president with a snake’s tongue, no dollhouse or iron bars. Is that what freedom is? Whatever it is, that was a future he would fight for. The plan moved slowly, and much of it between Plutarch and Haymitch. Finnick and other tributes involved were informed of little, only things essential to them. Finnick knew to keep Katniss and Peeta safe, and that Beetee, Wiress, and Johanna were also involved. That was all. Knowing glances between him, Mags, Johanna, and the tributes from three were all too common in the tribute centre.

After two weeks that seemed to pass both too slowly and all too fast, the night of final interviews came. Finnick was dressed to look like a pirate, missing nothing but an eyepatch. The goal of the night was to cancel the games, something none of the tributes could disagree on. First was district one’s Cashmere and Gloss. They were glimmering in the stage light, dressed glamourously with liberal amounts of glitter. Watching them, Finnick couldn’t help but be reminded of the night when he watched Sylke shine the same way. In his memory she had no glitter or shiny fabric, only an angelic light one can only achieve in someone else’s nostalgia. Finnick wondered if she was watching, remembering the same moment. There was a chance that Mister Indigo let her watch despite Finnick’s presence. A slim one, but a chance nonetheless. What did she think of Cashmere and Gloss, he wondered. Did she look fondly to her district? Was it still home? District was never particularly important to Sylke, Finnick knew that much. In the 65th game she hardly cared for the segregation of districts, attempting to make friends will everyone she came across. It worked of course, but never with the other tributes. They thought her a liability and nothing more. As he reminisced, Finnick wondered if that was something that drew him to her. Perhaps he saw that none of the tributes would speak with her, and wanted to relieve her of some loneliness. But all of that hardly mattered anymore. The others were all dead, he was back in the game, and she was trapped in that dollhouse. The feeling of imminent death began to truly set in. There was a spectre itching at his ears and tapping on his shoulder, one that whispered: was this not always the plan? She can be the victor now. He tried to wave those thoughts away, to focus on the plan and the hope that his declaration of love, along with all the other veiled protests from tributes, would be enough.  Quickly, he told a member of the staff that he had a message for a lover to broadcast during his interview. After they sped away, he could almost hear the whispers among capitol patrons and socialites. It had been a sly move on his part, something to propel him and his Casanova image into gossip columns and hopefully add a straw to the back of the camel that carried the games. And then of course there was the message itself. Once prompted by Caesar Flickerman, all of the performance melted away. He could only hope that she was watching, that she would understand how much he loved her. His eyes were tender and kind as he spoke, his mouth downturned and ever so slightly melancholy. All of the smug and suave demeanor he carried and amplified fell away, leaving only desperately amorous affection remaining. 

“My love… you have my heart, for all eternity. And if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips”

The message was still something of a compromise. He kept it vague, using “Love” instead of “Angel” and electing not to specify that he would be thinking of her lips when she smiles. There was so much more to say left lingering on his tongue, but for her safety (should Mr. Indigo be incredibly perceptive) and for his image, it was better to say less. The crowd roared when he was finished, and he saw a couple of his former clients/lovers faint in the audience. With a returning grin, he took his place standing with the other tributes behind the main stage. Beetee leaned closer and spoke in a whisper to Mags. Finnick couldn’t hear all of it, but it seemed that Beetee was asking if the message was sincere. Mags nodded, and both of them looked a tad bit more melancholy. Was it pity? Finnick could never stand pity, even when he was young. It made him feel separate, lesser, all things he never wanted to be. And so he learned the skill of confidence, of showing the world that you can hold your own, that you needn’t be pitied. The last time he saw a face like that, one that gazed at him so, was in the arena. Sylke had shown him compassion, she took care of him, and though he knew it to be love and affection, it still felt a little repulsive. The more practical side of him made it so he did not refuse her help, but it was undeniably difficult to simply sit and do nothing as she tenderly attended to his wounds. He had sworn to himself that he would protect her, and as she cared for him, he felt utterly incapable. He knew, of course he knew, that she did not think him weak or lesser, but the instinct to refuse help remained.  After the games, he never really asked for help again. It was something of a personal mission to do everything for himself, and with no help from others, he would keep his loved ones safe. He would protect them, and when he found out she was alive that of course included Sylke. It was his choice and his alone to sell himself to Snow, and he did so without hesitation. Anything to protect them. 

Pity was something he never encountered in the capitol either. All of his clients sought a physical relationship, they admired him, but they never wanted more than a plaything or something shiny to display. Emotional connection was entirely missing from those relationships, and thus so was pity. And that was fine by him, it made things easier. But it seemed pity was unavoidable after his heartfelt message, that was part of the goal after all. He looked blankly forward in an attempt at ignorance to Mags and Beetee’s words, focusing instead on the show before him. The air was tense on the stage. Every tribute was angry and anguished, but they all had their own ways of hiding it, making their pain as marketable as possible. Some tried for reason, others sympathy, and one started a fire. Somewhat literal, but generally metaphorical was the fire Katniss sparked in the people. There was again a burning sense of hope and ambition thrumming in Finnick’s chest when he saw the mockingjay wings spread in the spotlight. Then Peeta revealed that Katniss was pregnant. There was uproar in the crowd; a fuse had been lit. Finnick wasn’t sure what to think. The two victors from twelve weren’t in on the plan, this wasn’t predetermined. Was she really pregnant? Regardless of the truth, it had certainly helped their case. When Mags reached for his hand he knew exactly what to do. They raised their hands in a show of solidarity, shining and united for a brief moment before the lights went out. The capitol was not happy with them. 



Sylke didn’t see Katniss on the screen that night. Mr. Indigo had, after some flattery and persuasion, allowed her to watch the interviews. She tried to pay attention when the tributes from one came on the stage. She noted how similar Gloss looked to Cesare, and she wondered if they knew each other. She waited anxiously for the tributes from four to be announced. Mr. Indigo made small comments here and there, jokes about the tributes or the questions, but Sylke barely heard them. Her eyes were empty and yet focused on the screen before her, willing time to go faster. Finally, he stepped into the light. He looked in his element, suave and handsome as ever. People had always made note of his good looks, even when they were teenagers. She had always attributed it to two things: his eyes and his confidence. Of course he had good features, but it was the way he carried himself, the boldness with which he moved, that made him truly shine. Tonight however was the first time she was watching him through a camera. He looked ever so slightly different in that spotlight. As though watching through someone else’s eyes, the camera lingered not of his green eyes, but on his mouth, on the low plunge of his shirt. It made her uncomfortable to say the least. Whenever she saw him in person, she was reminded at least a little of the boy she met ten years ago. Something about him was still the same, whether that was his eyes, his laugh, or his tender care for those close to him. And yet all of that escaped the camera. Sylke was quickly reminded of the image he had cultivated in the capitol. This was how people saw him here. She only saw a glimpse of the Finnick she knew at the end of the interview. 

“Now I understand that you have a message for somebody out there. A special somebody.”

He laughed, looking cheekily at the audience. 

“Can we hear it?”

Finnick nodded. He lowered his head to get closer to the microphone. In a single movement, something shifted in him, a part of his faces melted and another facet of him revealed itself. His eyes were tender, loving, like he was looking at her and only her. 

“My love,”

His jaw twitched. Sylke understood with no words that he was holding back.

“You have my heart, for all eternity.”

It was just one sentence. One sentence, seven words, and tears were already welling behind her eyes. She looked over to Mr. Indigo. His face was somber, eyes empty and lacking all emotion. She couldn’t cry in front of him. Instead, her chest trembled, she shut her eyes tight for a moment, and promised that she would hear all of it before excusing herself to her room. She looked again to his face on the screen. As always, she found such beauty in his eyes. She could almost hear the serene lull and rhythm of ocean waves on a sunny day. She could almost feel the white sand beneath her feet. And around it all, she felt the love he had for her, warming her heart like sunlight. 

“And if I die in that arena…”

Fear and doubt were setting in for both of them. Her teeth began to chatter, and the shaking only got worse as she tried to hold in the screams and sobs. 

“My last thought will be of your lips.”

She stood up quickly. 

“I’m tired, I’m headed to my room.”

Mr. Indigo nodded, never even looking up. She ran up the stairs, finally letting tears slip down her face. Once the bedroom door was closed, she fell straight to her bed. Endless whimpers and wails were caught by and increasingly wet pillow. She clutched a different pillow like a life buoy in open water, with her eyes squeezed tight. She could only imaging that she was holding onto him, and that he was holding her too. She whispered in hopes he could somehow hear her:

“I don’t want you to go.”



Finnick tired to keep his mind empty through the morning. He was briefly informed the night before of plans for the game, but it scared him. He had pondered it before going to bed: what it would be like in thirteen, if they would even get that far. But when the morning came, he didn’t have the energy to wonder anymore. He needed to focus. It was little things that kept him distracted: metal bars, flickering lights, in distinct chatter in the jet, they were like white noise. His head finally cleared when he stepped onto the platform. Thoughts returned in full sentences, fully formed and concentrated. In all honesty, Sylke was hardly present in Finnick’s mind when the game started. His focus was with the golden bangle on his wrist, and with the silver trident beckoning him to jump off the platform. When the gong sounded, he dove into the water and swam like never before. Waves pushed rhythmically against his shoulders, like drums they commanded his thoughts to beat with the melody. They hummed in his mind, alternating between three things.  Pull, breathe, pull, breathe.  Find Katniss.  Pull, breathe, pull, breathe.  Find Katniss.  Once on solid ground, he sped forward, pushing a faceless body into the water as he ran. There was no time to wonder who it was, no time to look. He grabbed the trident and a familiar feeling raced through his body. He remembered the thrill of throwing a trident, the satisfaction of hearing it sink into the target. And he remembered how it felt to kill. But there was still no time. He could ponder the weight of steel in his hand later. Now, his mind screamed but one thing. Find Katniss. He found a net too, before he saw her, facing away from him, a few feet ahead. She turned with an armed bow.

“You can swim too, where did you learn that in District Twelve?”

“I have a big bathtub.”

“You must. You like the arena?”

“Not particularly. But you should. They must have built it especially for you.”

There was bitterness and spite in her words, hidden carefully under a layer of decorum. He wondered why she bothered being kind.

“Lucky thing we’re allies. Right?”

Her grip on the bow tightened. He quickly raised his arm, letting the golden band shimmer in the light.  The sound of footsteps knocks her hostility away.

“Right!” she shot back to him, in a clipped, rushed sort of way.

He saw someone behind her, one his eyes only recognised as a target. 

“Duck!”

Hardly even waiting for her to move, he launched the trident. Blood coated the tines when he retrieved it, an image he hadn’t seen in so long. 

“Don’t trust One and Two.”

She nodded. They agreed to each take one side of the Cornucopia as the Career pack approached. Only weapons could be found in the golden horn. With their ranged weapons, Finnick and Katniss made rather quick work of slowing their opponents down. Her eyes flickered to Peeta once they set some distance between themselves and the Cornucopia. He still standing on his metal plate.  He doesn’t know how to swim.  Katniss begins taking weapons off her belt, but Finnick stops her.

“I’ll get him.”

She wasn’t going to abandon Peeta, so the clear way to protect the Mockingjay was to protect her lover. He was certainly a better swimmer anyway.

“I can.”

Her voice is stern.

“Better not exert yourself. Not in your condition.”

He dives into the water. Convincing Peeta to trust him was not difficult, he just pointed our that Katniss was waiting for them. He also spotted Mags making her way to them. Once he brought Peeta to shore it Katniss had a lot less suspicion of him. After greeting his lover with a kiss, Peeta asked if they had any alliance deals with anyone else.

“Only Mags, I think.”

“Well, I can’t leave Mags behind. She’s one of the few people who actually likes me.”

Humor was like second nature to him. Even if not especially in these horrible, inhumane conditions, jokes had to be made. 

“I’ve got no problem with Mags. Especially now that I see the arena. Her fishhooks are probably our best chance of getting a meal.”

“Katniss wanted her on the first day.”

“Katniss has remarkably good judgement,” Finnick said to Peeta as he helped Mags out of the water like he had done so many times on the beaches back home. 

“Looks like too many people drowned in your game. It’s like a bob,” she signed while patting the wide violet belt on her suit.

Finnick always took for granted that both he and Sylke were decent swimmers. She was slow, but she could keep herself afloat. Other tributes probably didn’t have that luxury. Looking out the water, it seemed Mags wasn’t the only one to notice. 

“Look, she’s right. Someone figured it out.”

Finnick gestured to Beetee, who was certainly not swimming or treading water, but managing to stay afloat.

“What?”

“The belts. They’re floatation devices. I mean, you have to propel yourself, but they’ll keep you from drowning. 

Katniss gives Peeta some weapons and Mags an awl before they start moving. Finnick hoists his former mentor onto his back, which they had decided during the week of training would be best for traveling in the arena.  The jungle was too similar; tropical and humid and just subtlety artificial, just like before. They travel uphill for about a mile before he noticed Mags beginning to get weary and asks to rest. Given the wheel-like shape of the Cornucopia and the steep climb they took to where they were resting, it seemed likely the arena was shaped like a sort of concave disc. Finnick pondered this as Katniss scaled a tree to get a better view. She stayed up there for a while--longer than one would need to simply survey the area. She was probably thinking about all the bloodshed. Finnick had looked back as they began heading into the jungle and caught a glimpse of the violence. When just last night, they were all joined in collective defiance of the Capitol.  When Katniss jumped down from the tree, Finnick had his trident in hand, a habit he realised looked rather defensive to someone who didn’t know that he liked to twirl and balance it as something of a fidget. 

“What’s going on down there, Katniss? Have they all joined hands Taken a vow of nonviolence? Tossed the weapons in to the sea in defiance of the Capitol?”

“No.”

“No. Because whatever happened n the past is in the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance.”

He looked to Peeta. What if he and Sylke had refused to kill each other? What if she hadn’t eaten those flowers, what if she had offered them to him as well in the same way Peeta and Katniss had with the nightlock? It wasn’t Peeta’s idea. He hadn’t become a victor through cunning or ruthlessness like Finnick and Katniss. 

“Except maybe you.”

And Sylke. But Sylke hadn’t been given the chance to live a life she deserved. None of them had, really, but she was never even sent home. She hadn’t been to District One in ten years now. But Finnick needed to keep his mind off her.

“So how many are dead?”

‘Hard to say. At least six, I think. And they’re still fighting.”

“Let’s keep moving. We need water.”

And so they stood up and continued uphill. Peeta took the lead, slashing at leaves and vines with a knife. With a single misplaced step, there was a sharp crackling electric noise, and Peeta was left motionless on the forest floor. For less than a moment, Finnick considered letting him die. But all such thoughts evaporated when he heart Katniss’ anguished cry. Both he and Mags were blown a bit back by the force field, and by the time he got both of them standing, Katniss was crouched over her lover, ear to his chest and screaming his name. Moving quickly, Finnick crouched down next to Katniss and pinched Peeta’s nose shut.

“No!”

He kept moving despite Katniss’ cries. She wasn’t thinking, just taking in the information of a deadly man touching the body of her unconscious lover. He likely would do the same in her position with Sylke.  Finnick blew harsh and swift into Peeta’s mouth twice before beginning chest compressions. His mind was empty again, a void of all but the task at hand. A song whispered through his mind, keeping a rhythm as he moved. As seconds turned to minutes, his mind wandered to the last time he did this on a real person. He practiced on mannequins, all the fisherman did, but the last time he actually needed to save someone was ten years ago. When Peeta finally woke with a gasp, Katniss jumped to him, wailing and holding him close. Watching them, Finnick was reminded of what he was doing all this for. He was fighting for the freedom to love, to hold her close like that, and to be safe in doing so. There was suddenly a security in him, sure that he would survive. He heard her voice in his head, so sure that they would meet again, and he believed it. But still, he needed to focus. It was hard to forget Sylke, even for a moment, after Peeta opened his eyes. At every turn, Finnick saw Katniss and Peeta, the star-crossed lovers, and he thought of her. He saw her most in Peeta. His kindness offered Katniss hope, the same hope that she in turn delivers to the people. Sylke did that too. That smile had a way of convincing him he’d be alright. Some way or another, he would get out, and he’d get her out too. He would be able to protect her, rescue her, they would be free to love in thirteen. 

They started moving again, this time with Katniss in the lead, as she claimed she could hear the buzzing of the force fields. Finnick fashioned walking sticks for Peeta and Mags. Katniss also cut down some nuts and threw them to her left every so often, just to confirm the wall of energy beside them. Soon, Mags noticed that collision with the force field had a way of cooking the nuts, that supposedly the recognised, and she began to eat. They walked for a while, Katniss at one point scaling another tree and confirming Finnick’s earlier hypothesis on the shape of the arena. It also seemed the sky was a dome, so really, they were on the inside of a convex lens.  By midafternoon, it became clear that Mags in her old age and Peeta with his newly beating heart and prosthetic leg could not keep going. They made camp and he and Mags began to weave the long grass into mats. Peeta methodically tossed nuts at the force field and collected the meat in a small pile. It was almost domestically enjoyable if it didn’t remind him so much of his time in the arena with Sylke, which similarly domestic as it was, was tainted with bad memories. Everything seemed so different now. When he was little, the games held an air of magic and honour, one that he hoped to one day be part of. All of that was gone now. He was hyper-aware of the cameras examining his every move. Even in the arena, something compelled him not to let his image slip. Over the years of being a mentor, the sound of cannons never seemed to be any less startling. He hated them ten years ago, and he hated them now. But if he was good at anything it was acting. And so, with incredible amounts of denial and restraint, he chuckled at the boom of cannons, and even joked. In all honesty he wasn’t sure why he did it. Dehydration perhaps, or maybe a simple desire to be more stable than he was.  Katniss returned from her venture to find water with only an animal they all decided to call a tree rat. Peeta cooked it against the force field as he had the nuts, and all in all they had a decent meal.  Finnick wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not that he still remembered all of the skills he trained for when he was young. Even after all these years of Capitol luxury, it was still so natural to him. The air between him and Katniss was tense. And then the anthem played, and faces were projected onto the sky. For the duration of the song, they were no longer tributes, but simply humans, mourning together. Tension and hostility died down for a moment, leaving only quiet sorrow and sympathy. That humanity returned again when they received a spile from Haymitch. There was confusion at first, as to what this strange metal object was. But after thinking for a while, Katniss had something of an epiphany. They worked to drill a hole in a tree with the awl and then widening it with knives before driving in the spile. After some adjustment, a thin trickling stream of water emerged. Katniss drank first, then Peeta, and then Finnick. He then went to get a woven bowl to bring some for Mags. They were all caring for one another in that moment, with smiles that were all too uncommon in the arena. It was a small and sweet triumph, something to lift their spirits a little. And as though the game makers were watching that precise moment (because they probably were), the celebration was interrupted by an alarm ringing twelve times and lightning striking a tree in the distance. 

Finnick was soon woken by Katniss yelling for them to run. Once Mags was on his back, they moved as quickly as possible to escape the fog. He could smell it when it got close, it was sweet and heavy. Almost like the magnolias at Mr. Indigo’s house, but somehow sickening and saccharine. He heard both Katniss and Peeta scream before he felt it. Cold white vapor brushed against his back, but it felt like it was burrowing into his skin. He fell to the ground in pain and screamed, feeling the electric sort of burning sensation coarse through his body. It seared like lightning through his veins, and then there was nothing. A numbness set in--far more terrifying than pain. They ran, stumbling and certainly loud, but none of that mattered. Peeta’s prosthetic leg caught on some vines and he crashed into the ground. Barely thinking, Finnick hurried back uphill to help Katniss carry. 

“It’s no good. I’ll have to carry him. Can you take Mags?”

“Yes,” Katniss replies. Her voice is hoarse and perhaps unsure, but in the confusion and tension of the moment, neither of them could truly tell. 

Finnick began moving diagonally toward the water, which would hopefully keep the fog at bay. He could hear Katniss struggling behind him. They fall and roll when she buckles under the weight. His own shoulders were screaming at him, but he did everything to ignore it. He’d lost control of his arms as well, but as long as he could keep Peeta propped up and balanced it would be alright. 

“It’s no use. Can you take them both? Go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“No. I can’t carry them both. My arms aren’t working.”

Katniss looked to Mags, who was getting herself up from the ground.

“I’m sorry Mags, I can’t do it.”

Mags nodded, almost smiling. She placed a gentle hand on Finnick’s shoulder. She said nothing, but the calm in her smile communicated everything. She placed a kiss to a confused Finnick and walked slowly towards the fog.

“Mags?”

The white mist enveloped her, welcoming her like a long lost friend.

“Mags!”

Finnick screamed, all control over himself vanished. He could barely comprehend it. The world went quiet, but he still heard the canon fire.

“Finnick, we have to go. We have to get out of here.”

He nodded, refusing to let himself dwell on Mags. There would be time for that later. He and Katniss carried Peeta forward until they stumbled and rolled downhill. The fog followed them down, creeping like a spectre of impending doom. The poison was setting in. He felt more and more disconnected from his running legs. They gave way and he distantly felt the support of soft earth against his face. Perhaps he would die here, senseless and exhausted. The cameras would capture it. Everyone would know and no one would wonder. Would she wonder? Would Mr. Indigo let her watch? The games were required viewing for the districts, but that rule didn’t need to be enforced in the capitol. Regardless, someone would tell her. She would find out. And she would know that he loved her. She had proof on paper of that. Finnick consoled himself with these thoughts, relaxing his body and letting the fog engulf him.

“It stopped.”

 Katniss’ words roused Finnick to the fact that he was not, in fact, welcomed by the fog. Like it hit a wall, the it had just stopped and faded away. They all sat watching for a little while as the white turned back to clear air. And then Peeta spotted a pair of orange monkeys watching from the trees. He began to crawl downhill once more, and the rest followed. Better not to risk the wrath of mutts. Finnick’s brain was completely on autopilot until they reached the water. He was not thinking, barely feeling, only moving. When a finger touched the warm saltwater there was a burning, stinging, horrible pain that he refused to bear. And so he laid down in the sand, finally allowing his body to rest, even if it was swelling and painful even to breathe. At least you can breathe. You can smell, you can hear. You can hear me sing to you. You’ll be alright.  He could hear her words. That’s what she would say, while tenderly running hands over his wounded skin and finding some remedy in the plants growing in the jungle. And she would sing that lullaby, and he would sleep, and in the morning it would be better. There would be a bit of singeing pain, but she would take care of him like she always had. He could feel it, the poison draining from his arms.  He felt like he was swimming. Warm water was lapping at his skin, welcoming him into a lullaby embrace. It didn’t put him to sleep, it brought him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to see a pale moon and a dark sky. He saw his jumpsuit, cut open, and his own body submerged in the shallow water. His head was resting on something warm. Someone’s lap. It wasn’t hers. He looked to Peeta, and then to Katniss, whose lap he was lying on. It occurred to him that he could feel the water against his limbs. He could move his arms. 

“There’s just your head left, Finnick. That’s the worst part, but you’ll feel much better after, if you can bear it.”

They helped him sit up and he dunked his face into the water. It was torturous, like his skin was being pulled away, but just for a moment. And then relief. He felt like his skin was exhaling. 

“Thank you,” he tried to say, but the words did not manage to escape his sore, raw throat. 

“I’m going to tap a tree.”

“Let me make the hole first. You stay with him. You’re the healer.”

Finnick felt himself recovering as he sat in the water. His limbs were working again, following his commands as they were supposed to. He could swim. He didn’t strive for speed at first, just trying to enjoy the feeling of moving at his own will again. And then some amount of life returned to him. There was energy in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. This was the feeling Sylke described when she danced. She escaped her dollhouse and just moved. She could feel the warmth of stage lights and she could hear the applause of a home crowd. Finnick felt it too. He heard the roar of water against his ear, felt the bubbles meeting his skin as he kicked. For a small while he just sat with his head below the water and let himself feel everything. The water vibrated below where it touched the wind. Plants and algae swayed at the bottom. There was life here.  He noticed Katniss’ legs standing not far away and decided to play a little joke. It had been far too long since he last laughed. He popped his head up right next to her. 

“Don’t do that!”

“What? Come up or stay under?”

“Either. Neither. Whatever. Just soak in the water and behave. Or if you feel this good, let’s go help Peeta.”

She sounded like an older sister, which Finnick supposed she was. 

They had to fight off a band of money mutts hiding at the edge of the jungle. District Six must have also been in on the plan, because one of the morphlings died to save Peeta. He refused to leave her body to the mutts and brought her to the beach while Finnick and Katniss fought off the monkeys. When the fight was over, Finnick kept watching the trees, wary of anything else Gamemakers decided to throw at them. From a distance, he saw Peeta whisper in the ear of the dying victory from District Six and slowly ease her into the water. His gentle nature was once again reminiscent of Sylke. They were both such caretakers, and such good ones. It made him sure that there were good people in this world.  As night went on, the fog-blisters scabbed over and began to itch. It took all sorts of restraint on all of their parts not to scratch themselves open as they tapped trees for water. Thoughts of both Sylke and Mags were harder and harder to keep at bay. Finnick insisted on taking watch while the other two slept. And once he was alone, everything came out. Quietly, of course, but he finally let himself cry. His breathing was erratic and his chest throbbed as tears and sobs fell out of him. His body hunched over, refusing to perceive anything but it self and its own grief. Mags was gone. The woman who had taught him everything, who kept him alive and taught him how to survive hadn’t. And for what? To keep Peeta alive? To keep Katniss alive? Why were any of them so concerned with these two teenagers from across the country? Finnick knew exactly why. He knew why all of this mattered, he knew why he was fighting and why he was willing to die himself if it came to that. It wasn’t just for him and it wasn’t just for Sylke. Of course those things mattered, but he also cared for people. She did too. He pictured a world where they could be happy. Where they could dance and he could take her to the shore and treat her to all the pleasures that she deserved. And not just the two of them, but everyone. It was idyllic, he knew that. But she dreamt of such a future, so why shouldn’t he?

By midmorning, Peeta and Katniss woke up. They found Finnick, deep in his thoughts, who had clearly not been idle during the night. While his mind ran around, his body needed to be doing something. He wove grass mats for shelter first, and when that was done, three bowls. Those were finished after sunrise, and the other two were still not awake. He filled two bowls with water from a tree, looking back to make sure they were alright. Eventually, his boredom and inability to sit still with his thoughts outweighed his caution. There were some rocks not too far away that he was willing to bet had some mussels living on it. He was correct. In fact there were far more living beneath the surface. It was a plentiful harvest that he could likely pull from again, filling only a bowl with shellfish and heading back to the camp, where his allies were still sleeping. They woke up as he filled his rumbling belly. It had been far too long since he had eaten good, fresh seafood. The stuff in the capitol was alright, but it wasn’t like this. He recalled his last time in the arena, where he spent the majority of his time fishing in the river while keeping a distant eye on a foraging Sylke. He remembered her fascination as she watched him fillet the river fish on a slab of rock. She made meals so enjoyable, like they were just picnicking in the jungle for lunch. Finnick struggled to hold back tears, but he managed as he heard Katniss stirring. She soon joined him in eating, though the sight of dried blood on her fingernails stopped her for a moment. Finnick had been scratching his skin all night, he knew what she was experiencing. 

“You know, if you scrath you’ll bring on infection.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

She washed her hands in the sea before looking up to the sky and shouting:

“Hey, Haymitch, if you’re not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin!”

Almost on queue, a gift came sailing from the sky on a grey parachute. She returned to the sand and opened it with Finnick. They found it full of dark ointment that reeked of pine and tar. It was nothing like the green, watery poultices that Sylke made for his wounds. Katniss let out a moan of relief as she rubbed it on her itching leg. It stained the skin a comically rot-like green colour. 

“It’s like you’re decomposing,” he remarked with a chuckle, before taking some on his fingers to treat his own scabbing skin. It worked like magic, relieving the itch like cool water and dry air on a hot humid day. Though admittedly, the scabbing skin and dark ointment made one look rather awful.

“Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven’t looked pretty?”

“It must be. The sensation’s completely new. How have you managed it all these years?”

“Just avoid mirrors. You’ll forget about it.”

“Not if I keep looking at you.”

They quickly spread ointment on one another’s backs before Katniss stood up.

“I’m going to wake Peeta.”

“No wait. Let’s do it together. Put our faces right in front of his.”

Katniss’ face lit up. For a brief moment, she looked like a teenager again, amused, with only lighthearted thoughts at the front of her mind. Humor was a necessity at times like this, Finnick was only more sure of that. It was terribly amusing, watching Peeta’s waking face. As they laughed, another gift floated down from the sky. This morning was turning out to be almost too good to be true. They received familiar green-tinted bread from District 4, something Finnick always enjoyed back home. Mags liked to bake it and share it with himself and Annie. This was like treasure to him, not to go to waste. They would eat and fuel themselves in her honour.  As afternoon drew nearer, the ground began to vibrate and a wave moved from jungled hills into the sea, raising the water level quite significantly. A cannon fired. Soon, three figures emerged in the distance, in the same wedge of the wheel which the wave had originated from and remained in, not unlike how the fog was contained behind an invisible wall. Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta retreated into the jungle to watch. They were stumbling around, clearly weary and wounded, and solidly brick-red. One was dragging another, until they collapsed on the beach. There was a fit of temper from the dragger, and something the size of a dagger stabbed into the sand. Finnick knew immediately from this that they were trustworthy. 

“Johanna!”

“Finnick!”

“What the hell happened--is that blood?”

“Yeah. The lightning struck and we were stupid close to it ‘cause Volts just had to see it, and then we started moving away when it started to rain. And that made sense, ‘cause of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful. We were just staggering around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Blight hit the forcefield.”

“I’m sorry, Johanna.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t much, but he was from home. And he left me with these two. He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia and her--”

Wiress was circling about in a daze, mumbling to herself, though loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Tick, tock. Tick tock.”

“Yeah we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock.”

Wiress stumbled and fell into Johanna, who shoved her to the ground.

“Just stay down, will you?”

Katniss quickly joined the conversation: “Lay off her.”

“Lay off her?”

Her voice was laced with venom. She stepped to Katniss and slapped her. Finnick couldn’t help but understand. Johanna was short tempered, and she had kept the two from Three alive for this long. It couldn’t have been enjoyable for her.

“Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you?” You--”

Finnick saw this as his time to intervene. He tossed his friend over his shoulder and brought her to the water to wash her off and calm her down. A flurry of insults were flying from her mouth for a short while, but they were drowned out as he repeatedly dunked her in the water. Eventually, she started to wash herself as they talked. It was small talk for a bit, something they might have done as victors without tributes to mentor during a game. It was like old times, as though nothing was wrong. Eventually, the topic turned to loved ones. Not much could be said with the cameras rolling, but they managed.

“How’s that girl doing? The one he keeps an eye on?”

“She’s alright. She’s alive, which is really all that I can ask for. I hope she’s happy.”

“From what you’ve told me, I’m sure she is. She’s a toughie.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them returned to the rest of the group and Finnick laid down to rest. Katniss woke him and the rest from quiet slumber and delivered epiphanies. The Arena was a clock, each hour a different plague ravaged a wedge of the wheel. They travelled to the Cornucopia and mapped out the clock as well as stocked their weapons. Wiress’ throat was slit as the Careers began to attack. Then the Cornucopia spun. Their opponents as well as Beetee were flung into the sea, though Finnick was able to get him back. They lost the position of the clock, completely discombobulated. Everyone but Wiress survived the encounter and they made it back to the beach, awaiting the ten o’clock wave to reorient.  It didn’t take long before familiar voices sounded in the distance. First it was Katniss who hears them, as Finnick was tapping a tree. She ran into the forest shouting her sister’s name and Finnick followed her to make sure she would be safe. He found her cleaning an arrow with a handful of moss.

“Katniss?”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I though I head my sister but--”

That was when he heard her. She was shouting his name and screaming. She sounded so scared. All inhibition was lost and Finnick began yelling back.

“Sylke? Sylke!”

He ran desperately, aimlessly, trying to find her. She sounded real, that was undoubtedly his angel. How did this happen? Wasn’t she supposed to stay safe, wasn’t that the deal? What was it all for, all the degradation and shame of pretending to love anyone but her, if not just to keep her alive?  An anger surged through him, nearly as boiled as his panic, the sort of rage birthed from betrayal and hurt. Katniss soon caught up to him. She scaled a tree and stabbed a bird, at which point the screaming stopped. It fell at his feet, and he could only manage to pick it up, with weary arms and hollow eyes. 

“It’s all right, Finnick. It’s just a jabberjay. They’re playing a trick on us. It’s not real. It’s not your... Sylke.”

He was not comforted. He knew this bird, he had learned its history. At least in moments prior, he thought that she was at least here, in the arena, where he could save her or at least die trying. This was so, so much worse.

“No, it’s not Sylke. But the voice was hers. Jabberjays mimic what they hear. Where did they get those screams, Katniss?”

“Oh, Finnick, you don’t think they...”

“Yes, I do. That’s exactly what I think. I wouldn’t ever put it past the gamemakers to do that.”

Another scream rang through the air. It was a man’s voice this time, and Katniss clearly recognised it. He grabbed her before she could chase.

“No. It’s not him. We’re getting out of here.”

He began to pull her toward the beach as the screams continued. 

“It’s not him, Katniss! It’s a mutt! Come on!”

The dark birds began to fly at them, attacking with precision and intention. The two of them ran towards the edge, Johanna and Peeta standing with open arms on the other side, but it was like a glass wall. Finnick heard his family, he heard his friends. Mags’ warped scream that she rarely used rang through the air. Johanna’s cry could be heard too, though Finnick didn’t process it in the moment. Loudest in the chorus was Sylke. Sometimes she called his name, even called for help, other times it was just screams. He tried to cover his ears but it was too loud. He couldn’t distinguish what was in his head and what was in the air. Her screams sounded so real, so pained, and oh so loud. They were inside his head, between his ears, behind his eyes, everywhere. With eyes clamped shut he collapsed on the ground, having given up on covering his ears. When the hour was up they went back to the beach. He could still hear her, even after the birds were gone. Sitting in the water helped, hearing the waves crash against him made it quieter, but they didn’t make it go away. Here, he was finally able to think about everything. He finally had time, real time, or rather he didn’t care as much anymore. Mags was gone. He could tell himself that she was never going to make it, but that didn’t make the pain go away. She wouldn’t be there to guide him anymore, or give him a little pat when he did something right. He felt a hole in his heart, one he hadn’t quite felt in years. She sacrificed herself with a smile. He couldn’t be angry with her and yet a part of him was. A part of him wanted to yell at her, tell her to be selfish, then she’d still be alive. This feeling was all too familiar. He had wanted to yell these same things at Sylke ten years ago. It was like deja vu, this unbearable guilt of being the one someone died to help. The one thing he was always grateful for was that she died peacefully in his arms. She wasn’t crying or screaming, she fell still with a smile. But now her cries repeated in his head, and he was left picturing her, hearing her, screaming and wailing until she went silent. And he couldn’t do anything to make it stop.



Finnick’s conversation with Johanna had not been aired. He had also murmured her name in his sleep, something Katniss didn’t tell him until much later. That footage was also omitted. Sylke was watching when the jabberjays attacked. She heard her own voice, but it was different. Younger. It took little time for Mr. Indigo to tell her to go to her room. Sylke knew exactly why and didn’t dare argue. He had never acknowledged her past, and he certainly wouldn’t now. She walked away as Finnick began to tell her name. It took all restraint not to turn back and run towards him, towards where his voice was coming from anyway. But she sat on the stairs and listened, clutching onto the smooth pillars at the end of the banister for dear life. And then the noises were replaced with music and Caesar Flickerman’s commentary came on.

“Now, for the younger folks watching, you might not know the story.”

Finnick called out her name again. He sounded so scared.

“Sylke was a tribute in the 65th Hunger Games with Finnick, you know. He didn’t want to kill her, so she did it herself, poor thing.”

Caesar’s partner Claudius chimed in.

“Such a tragic tale.”

“I know, it really is sad.”

He paused for a moment, letting his dramatic telling sink in.

“But isn’t it remarkable how they managed to capture her voice?”

“I heard they took recordings from the 65th to get it.”

“Really? Wow! The capitol really outdid themselves themselves this year folks.”

They moved so trivially over her ‘death’. Hearing them talk about her like a relic of the past was too much. She ran as quietly as possible to her room, crumpling against the closed door. Her entire being trembled with each stifled cry. Sounds could escape her here, but they still couldn’t be too loud. Every inhale was desperate and starved, every exhale was shaky. She clutched her knees and crinkled the fabric beneath her hands. It wasn’t even clear to her what exactly she was crying about. Everything, I suppose. About the danger he was in, about the fear in his voice, the fact she couldn’t make it go away, that they talked about her in the past tense, all of it swarmed her, filling her ears with uncountable voices. She heard Finnick calling her name, she heard his message from the interview, she heard Caesar Flickerman’s caucus laughter, she heard her own younger voice screaming for help. It took what felt like forever, but the tears did eventually cease. She was able to stand, albeit slowly and exhausted. Her chest was weak and heavy, her legs struggled to carry her. But she still got up. Without a sound and with very little going through her head, she walked to her bed and pulled out the box underneath. She let muscle memory take over as she slipped her feet under the elastics and tied the ribbons. Like she had so many times before, she danced. With closed eyes and gliding feet she escaped. When the music finally stopped and she returned to the dollhouse, things were still awful. Her heart was still aching, the world was still cruel. But now it was just ever so slightly less so. Mr. Indigo didn’t allow her to watch after that incident. He sat alone on the sofa, eyes glued to the screen. When some of her strength had been regained, Sylke returned to her spot on the stairs, where she sat and continued to listen.



They stayed on the beach for the rest of the day. Beetee had come up with a plan that they couldn’t act on until dusk, so they had a few hours with nothing in particular to do, restrained to the safety of the beach. Johanna and Beetee were sitting closer to the tree line, talking about something that Finnick didn’t care to listen to. Katniss and Peeta were similarly separated and talking, and Finnick was standing in the water. It was cold, but it was tactile, something to feel. He twirled the the trident back and forth, up and down, to keep his hands busy. There was calm in repetition, in the waves lapping at his legs, in the shifting weight of the trident as the ends tilted in different directions. They always moved together. When one end got heavier, the other got lighter. When the rest of the world was chaotic and dangerous and cruel, there was balance in his hands. It was something he could control and something he could make good.

The ten o’clock wave let the group know which wedge was which. They moved camp accordingly and rested. They received more bread: thirty-three rolls from District 3. Katniss and Peeta found a way to scour the scabs from their body and joyously announced that they could make Finnick pretty again. The group gathered as a whole when Beetee formed a plan to set up a trap for Brutus and Enobaria, the two Careers remaining. They left their camp around nine in the morning and headed toward the jungle. Once at the lightning tree, they split into smaller task groups and Finnick was left guarding Beetee. There was little for him to do as Beetee was examining the tree. He continued to play with the trident in his hands, keeping a weather eye on the foliage. When the lighting was soon to strike, they retreated away and took a long route back to the beach. They feasted on bread and fish until the sky darkened and it was time to return the the tree and set the trap. Finnick helped wrap wire around the tree before Beetee revealed the rest of the plan. He and Peeta were to stand guard at the tree with Beetee, and Johanna and Katniss would uncoil the wire as the moved to the beach and drop the remaining spool in the water. They stood in silence, watching Johanna and Katniss disappear into the jungle. Until the line went slack. Peeta heard Katniss scream and ran off. 

“Beetee, I-“

“Just go. Go, catch up with them, I’ll be fine. I’ll try to destroy the forcefield.”

Finnick nodded before running on the wire’s trail. It was dark and humid, thick air felt like fog against his face as he ran. He shouted for Johanna and Katniss over and over again, with no response. Once he reached the end of the wire, he turned and began heading back to the tree. Hopefully they had done the same. He could hear his pulse roaring in his ears, adrenaline running rampant through his body. And then he saw her, crouched in the brush with an arrow pointed at his chest. She was shaking, her eyes were determined, but scared too. He opened his arms to show he meant to harm.

“Katniss… remember who the real enemy is.”

She lowered her bow. Storm clouds began to move and the sky flashed.

“Katniss get away from that tree!”

She didn’t move, she was doing something with her arrow. He knew it was a good idea to run, but she was still there and so was Beetee, unconscious on the ground.

“Come on!”

She pointed her arrow to the sky, a wire trailing from the head. There was a flash of light, a searing heat, and a sharp noise that made everything go silent.



There was a crackle of static when the light from the sitting room went out. Mr. Indigo was sitting in darkness for a moment before he turned on the light. There was an inexplicable understanding in Sylke, or perhaps a simple hope, that things were about to change forever. The phone rang with an alarmingly shrill tone. Mr. Indigo spoke with increasing frustration as the conversation went on. She continued to listen from her spot on the staircase. 

“What? Excuse me, you can’t just-“

There was a low growl in his throat as he listened to the other person.

“She’s not even… I don’t understand why this is necessary.”

Sylke’s eyes widened. Instinct took over, and perhaps it was just precaution, but something within her screamed that it had to be done. She ran to the kitchen, a room she wasn’t exactly allowed in, and grabbed a candle, matches, and a large bowl. The staff were all too busy sitting in their quarters and staining confused at dark screens anyway. Once back in her room she moved like a machine. The candle was lit, the window was opened, and the box was pulled out again from under the bed. This time, she set the slippers aside and revealed the stack of letters underneath. Paper by paper, she fed them to the flame and dropped them into the bowl. Fire ate at the words until there was nothing left but dust. She couldn’t afford to leave a single drop of ink behind. She watched with cold eyes as all the words she cherished, all the pages she read whenever she was sad, all of it burned. The room filled with smoke, her eyes began to sting. She finally let tears down her face, but nothing else. She sat on the floor with composure and propriety as the pile of pages got smaller. There was impatience that urged her to move faster but she resisted. No word could be left behind. Smoke clung to every surface, small burns appeared on her fingertips. But she continued. Then came the final letter. It was the first one he ever sent, five years ago. She didn’t let herself read more than the final sentence.

I miss you and I love you and I hope this letter brings a smile to your face.

Yours,

Finnick

Almost involuntarily, an anguished cry escaped her. Floodgates opened as she burned the final letter. Tears poured down her face, her hands shook, but she did it. It was gone. All evidence of their contact was gone. The more cynical part of her thought they would still know, but at least she could try. She sat in the hazy room for an hour before there was knock at the door.

“Miss Syren? You are expected downstairs.”

She couldn’t bring herself to care about the ashes, the smoke, or the tears staining her face. She walked down the stairs, where she was met by Mr. Indigo’s sad face, and a group of people dressed in white. He took her into his arms, his cologne overpowering the smell of smoke.

“Little Syren… I am so sorry.”

She felt something cold pierce her skin. In an instant, the world went dark.



When the ringing got louder and Finnick regained consciousness, he couldn’t tell where he was. His eyes wouldn’t open, his arms wouldn’t move, no matter how much he willed them to. He could still feel his body, but nothing else. It was like floating in the air, not even gravity pulled on him. He tried to get up, tried to move, but nothing worked.

No, no no no! I need to get up, I need to move, please! I need to find them…

He cried out to an entity he didn’t know, begging for control of his body. It did not come, and eventually the loving embrace of sleep pulled him in like a siren’s song. 

[kald-dal-art]

Cashmere and Gloss for the ask game I just love them so much 😭

and got another for Cashmere from @moonwithmidnight

Cashmere and Gloss

First impression

Think i thought it was interesting with a sibling duo of Victors and how tragic it was.

Impression now

Think they are interesting, and have a lot of story potential

Favorite moment

I don't fully remember how it went in the book but it's during the interviews and Ceasar is like "Wow great to have you back" and Gloss is just like "Well we aren't here by choice" 😭

Idea for a story

honestly how the career propaganda gets to you. It's kind of insane you survive the Hunger Games and then your sibling go to the game the next year. Like the guilt of Gloss feeling like he didn't warn Cashmere fully what the life of a Victor entrails

Unpopular opinion

They weren't in on the rebel's plan. I don't know why people discuss/speculate which of the victors were in on the plan we know! The book literally spell it out for you who was in on it and they weren't one of them.

Favorite relationship

Well each other. I also like the idea that they are friends with Finnick and Enobaria as well. I imagine from the 61st-65th it was just a Career streak of Victors. (61st Victor being a girl from D4)

Favorite headcanon

i don't think i have one for them

Beetee

First impression

Think it was just holy shit that he killed 1/4 of the tributes in his games. Like I don't think enough people talk about that.

Impression now

Favourite morally ambiguous scientist guy around

Favorite moment

Honestly love the whole bonding he did with Katniss during training. Also him being like "Ok😐" when Katniss claims its her hearing aid can make her hear the force field 😭 I don't remember if that is exactly how it happened or not when i'm thinking on it, but I don't have the book on me right now.

Idea for a story

Idk, maybe his games.

Unpopular opinion

I think if people are going to blame Gale as much as they do over Prim's death you kind of have to put equal blame on him.

Favorite relationship

Him and Wiress (I need to get around to draw them tbh)

Favorite headcanon

I imagine him and Wiress have the sort of relationship where no one agrees what the hell the status is. Some being like they are basically just lab partners and others being like "nah they've been married for 8 years"

Annie

First impression

That it was sweet that Mags volunteered for this very distressed young woman

Impression now

My sweet summer child, deserves more from the Fandom.

Favorite moment

Her and Finnick reuniting in 13- I felt that

Idea for a story

Would like a short story around her life after Mockingjay

Unpopular opinion

My girl was a Career, you can't take that away from me. She volunteered and trained for these games, be fr.

Favorite relationship

Her and Finnick.

Favorite headcanon

I like the idea that even though she is very mentally unwell, part of it is overplayed for the Capitol to leave her alone

Thanks for the asks

[w3bheadz]

Mags Flanagan Character Deep Dive

FC: Lili Reinhart

Name: Mags Flanagan  Age: 16 during her games, but the fic will highlight a lot of her life Gender: Female District: 4 Victor of the 11th Annual Hunger Games Sexuality: Bisexual Personality : She is reputed to be a lovely woman. She was a motherly type person, always protecting people when she could. If you hurt her, there wasn’t a thing you could do to fix it. History: At the age of 16, Mags became the victor of the 11th Hunger Games. Her skill with fish hooks and other natural skills she likely acquired from living in District 4 probably played a role in her victory. She was the first victor to embark on a Victory Tour, as the victors before her were simply transported home after their victories. She was also presumably the first victor to move to the Victor's Village directly after their Games, as well as the first to receive a token monetary prize for winning, as both ideas were first implemented in the 11th Hunger Games. Strengths: Mags had the ability to make fish hooks out of anything, and weave baskets so well that they could float in water without any leaking in Weaknesses: too trusting, not a great runner Weapon of choice: Trident Other weapons: Fish Hooks, traps Family: Rowena Malcolm (Wife), Finnick Odair (Like a Son), Annie Cresta (Like a daughter), Alana Flanagan (Mother) {Deceased}, Connor Flanagan (Father) {Deceased}, Jasper Flanagan (Little brother) {Deceased}, Lily Flanagan (Little Sister) {Deceased}, Zella Flanagan (Little Brother) {Deceased}, Annie Flanagan (Baby Sister) {Deceased}, Peggy Flanagan (Older sister) {Deceased} Friends: Tigris, Rowena, Haymitch Abernathy, Seeder (A victor of district 11), Woof (A victor of district 8) Cecelia (Victor from District 8) Special Skills: Her fishhooks are never failing, and her foraging skills and knowledge for plants Alliances?: During her games, she had alliances with both kids from 7, someone from 10, and her district mate Dolion Graystone. Romance?: Dolion Graystone (Past), Rowena Malcolm (Current) Volunteer/Chosen?: Chosen Reaction to reaping: Frozen, Fear Token: a silver pearl ring Peggy had given to her Chariot Outfit: 

Interview Outfit:

Interview Angle: determined, bold Reaping Outfit: 

Training room strategy: She didn’t really have a strategy, she stayed to herself. What skill did they show to gamemakers?: This wasn’t a thing in her games. It wasn’t until the year after that they decided to do it What kind of score would they get?: 6 or 7 probably

[pr0crastin]

A teaspoon of crazy

Annie Cresta hasn’t always been always mad. Sometimes, when there’s complete peace- not silence (the silence just sets her off) but the kind of peace that comes from sitting in a meadow after it’s rained and listening to the chirping crickets- she can remember what it’s like to have a mind that makes sense.

She remembers inventing her own recipes for these eccentric desserts which people were always wary of trying and would then always end up demolishing.

She remembers having the attention span to sit and complete an entire five thousand piece puzzle. Now, most days her hands shake too much for her to even tear the plastic wrapping off the box.

But here in the meadow, with the smell of petrichor and the soft grass under her fingers, she feels like maybe she could pretend to be a normal girl, if only just for a little while. Of course the peace doesn’t last, it never does. No one is stupid enough to think that winning the hunger games means you’re safe.

Not even when you drive a stake through the heart of your last remaining enemy. No. Shank isn’t the enemy. He didn’t choose to leave his sickly mother and his five little brothers to fight to death in a cage for the amusement of rich people. Shank isn’t the enemy and he doesn’t deserve this, so Annie closes her eyes and imagines she’s driving the stake through Snow. It doesn’t make it easier, but it gets her out of that arena.

Her mentor is waiting on the other side, and he looks like he was in there with her. Annie is screaming. She’s exhausted down to her bones, and her voice barely works anymore (she wonders if it ever will again), but she can feel Shank’s blood on her fingers and she can’t stop screaming. She wants it off. She wants it gone. (She wants to be gone, too, but that’s harder to explain)

Everyone is very confused. She just won the 70th Hunger Games- she should be singing from the rooftops and celebrating. She’s safe.

Of course she’s not, not really. She knows it, and, as Coriolanus Snow crowns her the victor with his crocodile smile, he knows it too.

But there’s one other person who also knows it. He’s the only one who looks even half as destroyed as she feels. He always runs to her when he sees her. The first time it happens, she has just come out of the arena and she can’t stop the shrieking sounds which keep clawing themselves out of her throat. He gathers her in his arms and squeezes her so tight that she feels her bones rattle.

But she also feels her screams die down as he contains them in his arms, and she thinks that if he keeps holding her like this, she might be able to live with herself just a little.

After that, Finnick always runs when he sees her. It’s funny that he runs towards her with the speed at which other people run away. No one can come too close to Crazy Annie, because no one knows what she might do next. The poor girl won the Hunger Games and came out of it mad.

“I don’t think I ever made it out of that arena,” she whispers one day. It’s a calm day, peaceful enough for her to sort through the noise in her head and hold a conversation. But that probably has more to do with the person holding her. The day didn’t start off calm, but looking at her now, it’s impossible to tell that she was seconds from ripping out her own throat only moments ago.

“I don’t think any of us did, my love,” he whispers against her hair. She loves it when he whispers against her hair. Especially on days where everything sounds like static and she can feel the fabric of her clothes rubbing against her skin. When he holds her like a promise and murmurs into her hair, she feels settled enough to take out of his hands and play with his fingers without thinking about breaking them.

Other times, when she feels coherent, Annie wonders when Finnick will finally decide he’s had enough. He has no shortage of options- he could court anyone from the most beautiful woman in the Capitol to Snow’s daughter herself. Annie wants him to go. There is so much out there for him and she loves him so much that she wants him to have it all.

She wants him to go, but it seems she doesn’t love him enough to let him go.

It makes her mad when he stays, too. And when she gets mad, she takes it out on him. He doesn’t deserve this, she thinks in a moment of clarity, as she aims a vase for his head. His lightening fast reflexes save him, of course, he didn’t win the Hunger Games for nothing, and the glass shatters against the wall, taking an ugly painting with it.

Maybe he did win the Hunger Games for nothing, she tells him, because he’s wasting away his freedom shackled to her.

“You think I feel shackled to you?” He says, and his sea green eyes swim with hurt. Haven’t I done enough to prove that I love you? the hunch of his shoulders says. She absolutely hates herself for hurting him, and she takes that out on him, too.

“I feel shackled to you!” She screams, and can’t he see that she’s trying to be selfless? She will always need him, but he doesn’t need her. And he definitely doesn’t deserve her. She lobs a fork at him, as if to prove her point, and he dodges it. He catches the candle labra and sidesteps the flying metal tray, and he does it so calmly that she feels more and more unhinged with each step he takes towards her. He pauses when she reaches for the chair, and then he moves faster than she can.

He runs to her, and Annie freezes. She understands now, why he runs. He’s trying to get to her before her demons do, she thinks with a choked sob, and sinks to her knees with it.

There are no words, just arms which feel like home lifting her as if she weighs nothing and carrying her away from the mess that she has created herself. Her Their living room is a good reflection of what’s going on inside her mind, and it’s ironic that it’s also symbolic of their relationship.

She just wants to be normal.

“I’m never going to change,” she mutters, over and over again as he lays her down on the bed. She clutches at him like he’ll disappear if she loosens her grip, because surely no one is this good. No one is this pure. He must be a hallucination.

“Good,” the look he gives her is long and hard. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Finnick Odair and Crazy Annie,” she scoffs, and her breathing is sporadic. He places a hand over her heart to settle her, and she doesn’t wonder why it works. She wonders if she sounds as bitter as she feels. “The Golden Boy and his Lunatic.”

There are fingers on her chin, tipping her head up towards the most brilliant pair of eyes. Even in her haziest moments, she never forgets the ring of green in a sea of blue, sparkling with an emotion she can’t quite put her finger on.

“Yes,” he says, and a part of her is grateful he doesn’t correct her- doesn’t bother with false consolations that she will be okay one day. “My Lunatic.”

“You don’t have to have a lunatic,” she chokes out, but it comes as more of a sob, and she can feel her vision blur with the same tears she cried when she made her first kill. She feels like she’s killing Finnick, too. “You deserve a normal girl.”

He closes his eyes when the second word leaves her mouth, as if he doesn’t want to listen to the rest. Maybe it’s because he knows what’s coming and he’s tired of being reminded of his situation. Doesn’t he understand that she’s giving him a way out? It hurts to be selfless, and most of the time even her thoughts aren’t her own, but for him, shes trying. For him, she wants something better.

“There is nothing better,” he says sharply, and she wonders if she even thinks in her head anymore. Nothing, he says, not no one. As if he knows that she believes there is not just a greater person but a better situation for him to be in. “And if there is, I don’t want it I-”

His voice breaks and Annie makes a wish. She wishes she was someone who could comfort him. She has no words, not even the gibberish ones, so she offers a hand at the back of his head, buried in his bronzed curls to pull him closer even though she was supposed to be pushing him away.

“When will you understand,” he whispers into the skin of her neck, and she doesn’t remember much, but she remembers what it is to shiver. “There’s no normal for people like you and me. You are my normal girl.”

She doesn’t speak, because it’s easier to be selfish this way. There’s only so much of herself she can sacrifice in trying to let him go. Maybe she’ll succeed some other day, when she’s stronger. And better. There is nothing better. He presses his nose to her jaw, as if he can hear her thoughts and he knows he needs to remind her.

The fight drains out of her.

Annie pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his hair, hoping it will bring him the same comfort he brings her, even though it’s impossible for anything to feel like what Finnick makes her feel.

His eyes were sparkling at her, she realises.

[angrycommiedyke]

Thoughts on music in the Hunger Games (trilogy + prequel)

After finishing the trilogy, and especially after Katniss sings again in MJ, I remember thinking of the Hunger Games’ story each time I was listening to folk, country and gospel songs. The lyrics sometimes reminded me of the story and I pictured Katniss singing these songs with her dad. Songs condemning war, songs about working class people, songs about wildflowers and birds. And when I read the prequel, I was so happy to see that music was a big part of it. So here are some things I’ve noticed and wanted to share, sorry if it’s a bit messy :))

1/ Everdeen’s family // The Carter family 

In Tbosas, Maude Ivory sings “Keep on the sunny side”, a song written by The Carter Family who come from the Appalachian mountains, where District 12 is located. Its original members, A.P, Sara and Maybelle Carter mostly sang ballads and mountain songs. Recently, I watched a documentary about the history and origins of country music, and learned that A.P. fell in love with Sara Dougherty when he heard her sing. He was from what was called Poor Valley while she lived in Rich Valley. I automatically thought of Katniss’ parents, her dad from the Seam, her mom, a Townie falling in love with his voice when he sang. Katniss was taught how to sing by her father, and if we consider Maude Ivory to be her grandmother, then the tradition sure has been there for many generations. 

2/ Unity through music 

We don’t have much information about other districts, but I have this headcanon that District 11 and 12 share some of the same songs. We know music is what Rue loved the most, and people there sing at work and at home. Considering that both districts are southern and quite geographically close  to each other, I believe they kept alive some old songs from bluegrass, blues, folk, gospel and country music. (I also hc District 10 as having country music). 

Also in MJ during Finnick and Annie’s wedding, District 12 refugees start to dance to their traditional music, “teach the steps to District 13 guests” and “insist on a special number for the bride and groom” (MJ, p.217). So Finnick and Annie from District 4 and the guests from 13 all “join hands and make a giant, spinning circle where people show off their footwork” (MJ, p.217). I’d like to add that I think they are clogging. Clogging originates from Irish step dancing and developed with Native Americans influences, especially Cherokee, and “was also shaped by African ‘buck dancing’, which originated during slavery.” Therefore this dance is already a mix between Europeans, African and Native Americans cultures. And in this scene, it shows unity between the districts, everyone gathers to dance together and Katniss states “Dancing transforms us” (MJ, p.217). The same way in Tbosas (p.28), Snow’s thoughts when seeing Lucy Gray on stage during her reaping were that “Singing transformed her”, and that he “no longer found her so disconcerting.” 

3/ Snow’s dislike for old songs 

Now in the prequel, we get to see that Snow doesn’t like the old songs, and prefers the recent ones : 

“Some of the numbers bordered on unintelligible, with un-familiar words that Coriolanus struggled to get the gist of, and he remembered Lucy Gray saying that they were from another time. During these in particular, the five Covey seemed to turn in on themselves, swaying and building complicated harmonies with their voices. Coriolanus didn’t care for it; the sound unsettled him. He sat through at least three songs of this kind before he realized it reminded him of the mockingjays. Fortunately, most of the songs were newer and more to his liking, and they finished up with the one he recognized from the reaping…” (Tbosas, p.286) 

Old songs, like “Clementine” or “The ballad of Barbara Allen” are older than Panem. They existed centuries before what caused the almost extinction of human beings in the story. Despite the loss of billions and the destruction of technologies, cities…and freedom, poetry and songs are passed down generation from generation. With them, a part of history. 

Bluegrass “was born from the creativity of working class and impoverished Southerners, Appalachians, and immigrants”, and how can I not think of District 12 when I hear Hazel Dickens sing about coal miners, and how can I not think of Katniss when I listen to country song “Coal miner’s daughter” now ? These old tunes (from bluegrass, blues, folk or country music) sometimes talk about slavery, poverty, workers’ life, hard times, but also hope and resilience. They show survival. And they also set an example of worlds existing before Panem. And in my opinion, this is why Snow doesn’t like them. 

Just imagine if thanks to the songs and lyrics, people knew some parts of what happened before Panem, if they knew the atrocities committed, the wars, revolutions, and struggles. They may not know a thing about the civil rights movement but still have songs about it, like “We shall overcome”. Even songs which have ancient names are rebellious to the Capitol, think of “Country roads”, “My native home”, “West Virginia, my home”, “Sunny Tennessee” or “You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive”. Think of all the songs and ballads telling the stories of people long dead like Joe Hill or Ira Hayes that may have survived. Cause as Rachel Baiman sings, “old songs never die, they just cry and cry out for you to sing them once again”

And it’s neither in the books nor in the movies, so it’s not canon, but in the fan movie where Katniss is a child and goes to the woods with her dad, there are these lines : 

Her dad (D) : “Because what’s in the woods ?” K : “Weapons, and food and mockingjays, and…” D : “All of it exists without the Capitol.” K : “Freedom.” D : “Freedom.”

And I believe that’s the reason for Snow's specific hatred for old songs. Also, the fact that when the Covey sung these, it made him think of mockingjays is telling. I keep thinking there must be an explanation for that, perhaps it's because the mockingjays are creatures who escaped the Capitol’s control just like traditional American music did ; because mockingjays represent a way out of the Capitol’s dictatorship later becoming a symbol of hope and revolt, and old songs can hold the same power.

[xspeter]

okay i see how much you love miss music industry herself and i was wondering if you would be open to doing a finnick x reader story like based off the betty augustine james love triangle (but like in an au where he never was reaped for the games bc when do you see that) where reader is like augustine and basically finnick has he just as a summer fling but goes back to betty and she's just kind of there watching them from afar being in love while she loves him but was only ever a heat of the moment thing but she really loves him, and then she just kind grows to hate him because he used her and her love, it would be cool if it ended on a kind of angry my tears ricochet kind of note maybe she gets reaped and he like comes back and is worried for her like he actually cares and shes all like "why tf did you come here, you dont care about me you don't love me you just feel fucking guilty bc i could die" i just love the idea of a female rage kind of ending where the sadness and love turns sour bc we never see that, its usually like the reader wallowing and losing themselves over an man and always kind of gets away without any real guilt or remorse, BASICALLY i just want him to feel all the pain and guilt for his actions and kind of just left floundering like that. idk of thats something that peaks your interests but i'd love to read it if you do( this is literally my dream fic to read)!!

𝐁𝐘𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ఌ

sometimes, you feel like a horrible person.

annie cresta and finnick odair were practically royalty. they were perfect for each other, and you were just… there.

until finnick and annie suddenly split, and annie went to visit her grandparents for the summer in the southern part of district four.

then, life seemed to be looking a lot better. finnick came to you for comfort. he knocked on your window in the middle of the night. he wanted you.

he helped you forget about your older brother, who had died in a fishing accident the year prior, and you helped him forget about annie. it was a win-win situation.

the beginning of june had started off awkward, because his wound was still fresh. almost everytime you saw him his eyes were glassy, but eventually, when you saw him he was smiling.

he was smiling at you.

by the end of june you had both admitted your mutual feelings for each other, and had started meeting secretly under bridges, behind buildings, anywhere you could really.

your parents and friends found it odd how much you blew them off, but you had shrugged it off, using the excuse ‘i’m just really busy at work!’

by july you and finnick had already kissed, and you had given him something important to you, your body.

he was the first to ever see it, and you were praying, that he would be the last.

the end of august was when things started to go downhill.

annie cresta had arrived back home on the seventeenth, and as soon as she did, you could feel finnick pulling away from you.

he denied it of course, saying things like, “you’re the only one for me.” or “you know i only love you.”

did you know though?

because now, mid September, you watch them enter a cafe together, holding hands.

finnick never held hands with you in public.

you watch as he kisses her sweetly, paying for whatever it was she ordered with no hesitation.

finnick had ended things with you barely a week ago, and now he’s already back with her? did this summer just mean nothing to him?

you feel the familiar build up of tears and immediately walk away from the shop.

besides, you have other things to worry about. tomorrow, one boy and one girl would be reaped for the 73rd annual hunger games.

you had survived for four years now, but you know you can never be too lucky.

when you heard your name announced, you swear your heart stopped.

“y/n l/n!” selodona, your districts announcer, reads your name from her tiny slip of paper.

with shaky legs you walk to the stage, trying to ignore the eyes on you. trying to ignore his eyes on you.

you don’t need his pity. not after he lied to you for months. not after he tore you apart.

you barely even register the male tribute, until you’re both forced to shake hands. when you do look at him, you recognize him as martin fraser, a boy you often fish with.

he manages a small smile and you attempt to do the same.

“please, a round of applause for this years tributes!”

silence.

instead, numerous people kiss the tips of their fingers, and holds them high in the air. selodona, clearly unsure of what to do, ushers the both of you into the court house.

she shows you both your private rooms where you’ll be given fifteen minutes to say goodbye to whoever you would like.

the first to visit is your mother, father, and younger brother, jaxon.

your mother tells you to stay vigilant, your father tells you to utilize your strength in the water, and your brother pleads with you to stay alive.

after they leave, your friend, masriska visits. she’s crying and by the time she leaves so are you.

you don’t expect the doors to open again after she leaves, so when they do, your heart immediately drops.

you don’t even have to turn around to know who’s entered the room.

“y/n-” finnick starts, but you cut him off.

“dont even say anything.” you snarl, wrapping your arms around your chest and turing around to look at him.

his eyes are glassy and he’s shaking, but you don’t care.

he doesn’t get the right to care about you anymore.

“y/n, please,”

“why are you here finnick?” you question, “because the last time we talked, you told me that you had never meant for our relationship to move past just a summer fling. that you had always planned to go back- go back to her!” you shout.

finnick tenses and sniffles, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and glances to the side. “i’m sorry, y/n. i… i really am. and now this is happeing to you and i just-”

“you just what? literally, what?”

finnick stutters, but before he can get out the words peacekeepers are ushering him out of the room.

selodona enters when they leave, pulling you with her to bring you to the train.

and some, sick, twisted, part of you hopes you die in that arena, just so finnick has to live with himself.

has to live, with what he did to you.

bye i hate this. throwing up crying screaming at the sky

[petruchio]

I love love love your Finnick/Annie series!! I was reading the last chapter wondering how you could end it and it was so well done.

I’m kinda wondering on what your thoughts are on what happens to Annie after? Cause you touched on the idea of the capitol kind of exaggerating the whole “mad girl” persona for her so it would be so eye opening to find out that (pre-mockingjay of course) she wasn’t as crazy as everyone thought and they kept up that persona to keep her away from the capitol. But I could also see where as worse things were happening, especially when you get to the hunger games and catching fire, that would be tough and kind of lead to a downfall there? And then she would eventually get to how we meet her in the series.

Hopefully this makes sense! Basically I’m just fathoming the connection between what you wrote and the series we know and love. I just think Annie is such an interesting character that isn’t talked about a lot other than the fact that Finnick loved her.

yeah good question!! and ahhhh im so happy you liked it!! 🤍

i kind of think two things — so first, in terms of playing up the mad girl persona, i absolutely subscribe to that belief lol. in my story what i kind of alluded to is that i think finnick plays a role in playing up the mad girl thing to protect/save her from going through what he went through. and it works obviously which is why peeta buys into it in catching fire.

and then second, i really combed over the books for any annie moments and i think it’s significant that we actually only meet her AFTER she’s rescued from the capitol. so like, we truly meet her at her absolute lowest, and EVEN SO the only thing katniss says is that she’s, like, kind of odd and laughs in strange places in conversations. so all that is to say my interpretation is that she’s not actually all that “mad” — she’s traumatized of course but when we do finally actually meet her she’s dealing w the horror of whatever happened in the capitol, so i imagined a pre-capitol annie as being even less “mad” than her couple of lines in the books.

so i guess thats a long winded way of saying i kind of wrote it (and imagine it) to be both that they play up the mad girl persona to protect her from getting the finnick/johanna/haymitch treatment and ALSO that whatever happens to her in the capitol sends her into an even worse place that gives us the person we meet in mockingjay.

but that’s just me!!!! and ofc that’s also kind of specific to the one story i chose to tell — i can imagine a thousand other backstories and other paths for her. i think that’s why i found this to be such an interesting story to write, bc her and finnick have much less clearly defined stories as opposed to katniss and peeta, so there was a lot more to play around with and invent there.

thanks again for your sweet words <3333 im so happy you liked the story and thanks so much for reading!!

[irradon]

a birthday in the middle of a genocide

starting from midnight, in the strange fifth floor haze of my dorm room, the messages have started to flood in. a whole group chat populated with birthday wishes, me flooding them back with heart reactions and endless thank yous. an instagram story there, replies to said story. "liked your story" and mentions. i can't forget that it's her birthday too. i have school and an appointment with my chiropractor today. no mom, i can't have dinner with you and dad tonight. i have meetings until 9pm.

i have not stopped talking about palestine since october 7th. when i believe that i cannot be even more horrified, the occupying entity shows how hopelessly wrong i was. i have cried, screamed for a ceasefire, cursed joe biden and every american politician who has played a cruel hand and profited off of the loss of lives not too different from mine. today marks 22 years since i was born in a california suburb. i cannot see it as anything other than the luck of the draw.

of course, somehow, life survives on in the midst of mass death. it is like any other grief. i find not just pockets but whole days worth of joy and love. my chest goes hollow at the daily let's talk palestine broadcast, as i learn of another bombing, another hospital attacked, the boycott on unrwa. i find my emptiness washed over with such a profound sense of connection to people who feel the same pain, whose voices hold me when mine goes out at a protest. gentle hands behind me, securing my keffiyeh without me even needing to ask. hands interlinked in so many more ways than just physical, dancing the dabke with not just their ancestors, but their brothers and sisters in their homeland. the innocence and beauty of the tale of the three jewels, a love story in gaza during the first intifada.

i've been rereading the hunger games trilogy as a means to reconcile the dystopic nature of my life as a privileged college student who bears witness to the ongoing genocide in gaza. i remember how surreal the story of mockingjay felt when i was ten years old. my mind could not fathom the bombing hospitals, or a crowd of children and medics without a second thought. i read those passages now with crystal clear images of mutilated bodies, parents carrying their dead children, hospitals crumbling as thousands desperately cling to any hope of survival. i think about the moment that gave katniss hope - finnick and annie's wedding. a celebration of real love in a time of war, a way to uphold tradition, to fill life with beauty, song, dance. it is a reminder to everyone of what they are fighting for. it's why katniss chooses peeta in the end. "what i need is the dandelion in the spring. the bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. the promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. that it can be good again."

i suppose this is what a birthday in the middle of a genocide is supposed to mean. every message, the company, the kindness of friends, old and new. it is a testament to the moments we fight for, that our parents and ancestors worked so hard to give us in diaspora. it is a chance for love to flourish. for us to know that unadulterated joy and an unwavering spirit are the highest forms of resistance we can take. so all i can say is that i am grateful for this life, for the beautiful moments and people i have the honor of experiencing and loving. and i remain committed to the cause of ensuring that every person can experience this too. in this spirit i will keep fighting for a free palestine for as long as it takes. until liberation and return for all oppressed peoples. may we awaken to a consciousness that understands that a world of fear and exploitation was never the end goal.

[regulusa-black]

Im watching the hunger games and do you know what

Something in this is destroying me. Its really small but like. Kato and Finnick.

Their deaths

Kato, someone she dosent know, someone who she hates and its mutual, but who makes us feel for him, who sparks a bit of compassion in her, by the end, covered in blood "I knew I was going to die. Its all I'm good for. I didn't know it until now though didn't I?"

And he falls, he gets pushed off the cornucopia, and gets eaten, amd katniss kills him, because its merciful and she's a merciful person and it would be cruel to let him get torn apart

We don't know him, but it honestly hurts, despite his previous actions

Finnick. Finnick O'Dair. Who katniss dislikes, distrusts, and tries so hard to hate. Who breaks down her walls and becomes her friend. Who gets her to trust him. Who saves Peeta.

Who dies in the same way.

Who dies getting pulled down from the ladder, and torn apart and eaten by capital mutts. Who katniss kills. Because its kind, and he's her friend, and its all she can do

Idk maybe I'm just being thrown out of whack (Nww medication we love you. Not.) but like.

Do you think she connects them? Do you think at one point, her ptsd gets so bad she actually mixes them up and it throws her off? Do you think she thinks about it every time she sees Finnick and Annie's baby

Do you think she ever wonders what kato could have been, what the capital would have done to him, if they would have used him like finnick, if maybe he wasn't as cocky as she thought and, like the others, was really just trying to survive. Like. Come on. Think about it