#postmockingjay

[lemonluvgirl]

Most Importantly, Loved

Peeta having a quiet thought late one night during the GBT phase.

Her thighs still shaking under my hands, as she sinks boneless and unmoored into the mattress, release their grip on me. And I, with my tongue still wet with the taste of her deep release, run the tip along the soft part of her lower stomach, tracing the letters of her name, and mine, into her dewy skin. 

This moment right here, makes me want to freeze time itself, so I can reign in this triumph forever. It's only now, in these rare and real instances where I think I truly feel like a victor for the first time in my life.

This love has a way of binding, and freeing simultaneously.  Of drawing together the things which are stronger when it's us two, than when we are apart. And releasing us from all that holds us back. Worries, doubts, insecurities. They fade in the naked light of affection and desire reflected back in her face, in her kiss. It's then that I see myself as a man who is truly understood, wanted, appreciated, and most importantly,  loved. 

[hayffiebird]

“I came to life when I first kissed you The best me has his arms around you You make me better than I was before Thank God, I’m yours The worst me is just a long gone memory You put a new heartbeat inside of me You make me better than I was before Thank God, I’m yours” “Yours” by Russell Dickerson

[mtk4fun]

My Hunger Games Journey

@everlarkedalways invited me to write this. I’ve told this story before, but maybe some of you haven’t heard it. I saw a trailer for the first THG movie in 2012. I mentioned in a phone conversation with my daughter (who was attending college in another state) that I wanted to see it. She said it was a book series, and that she had a copy of The Hunger Games in her bedroom. I read it, saw the movie, and then called her back looking for the next two books. But they were with her at school. Being a cheapskate, I attempted to put them on a library hold but there were over 1,500 people in line ahead of me. So after a couple of weeks, I opened my wallet and sprang for hardback copies of Catching Fire and Mockingjay, hoping they were worth the price.

They were. If anything, it was like an enchantment came over me as I read. This middle-aged lady became a 16 year-old girl fighting for survival. I cried for an hour at the end of Mockingjay; and then read every review on Amazon I could find about the book because I was DESPERATE to talk to someone about what I’d just read. (And it was early morning so I couldn’t reach my daughter.) For the next couple of weeks I kept reading the books. Over and over. Part of me wondered if I was having some kind of breakdown because I couldn’t remember ever reacting this way to ANYTHING. Then I started googling and found a THG forum. From there I found a link to a Galeniss fanfic.

I showed it to my daughter when she returned home on summer break, and she showed me fanfic.net. I spent the entire summer reading. First, postMockingjay stories. Then I found alternative universe. Contemporary AUs  seemed weird at first, but I soon began to enjoy them. But reading Knot Your Fingers Through Mine by monroeslittle, a historical about the American Civil War, was the catalyst to me writing my first fic, Wagons West. (Ironically I had two degrees in American History and I’d never even thought to attempt to write anything historical.)

Now eight years later after writing 31 more fanfics, I’m still enjoying THG, although I look back at that time in amazement. Why did I react that way to the books? I convinced two of my likewise middle-aged siblings to read the series. I purchased all three books for my eighty-year old mother who couldn’t read past the first book (because she was turned off by the thought of kids killing kids, although she reads all my fanfics and loves them). I read all three books aloud to my sixteen-year-old son because I KNEW he’d never read them himself. I WAS possessed.

I don’t know if I’ll ever figure out why the books affected me the way they did. I was already a short story writer with fiction/nonfiction published in religious publications for women and children before I wrote fanfic. So initially I was loathe to give away my stories for free, but it was the best thing I ever did because I gained entrance to this great reading and writing community.

And not surprising, the writing has been extremely cathartic. I’ve worked out so many personal issues through my stories; it’s like the writing helped me tie up all the loose ends of my life and make sense of them. There’s this great quote by Isak Dinesen, “All sorrows can be borne if you put them in a story or tell a story about them.” It’s true. For example I wrote The Wedding Of The Year a few months after my dad died, really as a tribute to him. Henry Mellark in that story is my dad -- his upbeat nature, his obliviousness, and his crazy scheme. That’s the kind of satisfaction writing fanfic has brought me.

But writing fanfic also has given me the chance to play around with themes and symbolism, to write historicals, alternative universe, and canon pieces. In a lot of ways I feel like I’ve earned my own Master of Fine Arts (MFA) degree from the Suzanne Collins School of Writing.

To sum it up, I’m grateful to have found this fandom and look forward to the returning fans and new fans that The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes will bring.

[future-fangirl]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark Characters: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Primrose Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Greasy Sae Additional Tags: Post-Mockingjay, poem fic, Canon Compliant, One Shot Summary:

How do you love crooked people with a crooked heart? What happens when it seems like time runs out? A story exploring Katniss learning that "life can be good again." Post-Mockingjay one-shot based on the poem "As I Walked Out One Evening" by W. H. Auden.

[iremembereverything]

The first two that come to my mind are postmockingjay:

1) the unrecorded hours 🙌🏼

2) good again

But i’ll keep thinking...

For @toastcon we are reading some fanfics for our fanfic discussion. So, we need your help and opinion on what we should read. 

Tell me your TOP 3 FAVORITE EVERLARK FICS AND TOP 3 FAVORITE SHORT STORIES OR DRABBLES. We want to know what’s impacted you and changed your life! 

Must be Everlark.

Must be 100K or less words.

You can only submit your own work once for fic and once for short story/drabble.

No anonymous submissions. 

TO VOTE: Send an Ask, DM, submission, reblog, comment on this post or email everlarkedalways@gmail.com. 

We’ll give you an update of where we are at the end of the week!

[heagon83]

The question he never asked

For years I watched him long for a child. As the district grew up around us children began to appear. It caught me off guard, initially causing a reoccurrence of nightmares of burning children and genocide, but Peeta reveled in the sight of the kids. I saw his eyes light up when he saw children playing in the meadow one day.

 It was about 7 years after the war, and as he watched them run around tagging one another, he gripped my hand tightly. It was an unspoken request that I couldn't ignore.

 That night as we washed the dishes from dinner and Peeta was trying to retell a funny story told to him by Thom. I burted out,

 "I just can't!"

 "You can't what?" He replied.

 "I can't give you children, Peeta. It is too painful, too scary and I am too broken to bring a child into the world. I will never be able to give that to you. I know that you want it so badly. I can see it in your eyes. I am so sorry, and if you want to go, I won't hold it against you. You deserve all the happiness that this world can offer you and I'm not going to hold you back anymore. Go and give your love to someone who can give you the family you need, the children you deserve."

 By the end of my tirade, I broke into sobs. He tried to comfort me, but I refuse to let him. I ran into our bedroom and curled up into a little ball on our bed and listened to him finish cleaning the kitchen.

 He came into our bedroom a little while later and sat on the other side of the bed, not looking at me.

 "I'm only going to say this once," he began.

 "I would love to have a family, but I have always known that you don't want that. My love for you is not conditional. Whether or not we have children one day does not negate my love for you. You are what I want. You are what I have always wanted."

 I eased up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

 "Thank you!" I whispered. As he turned his face to mine I see the tears stream down his face.

 "I'm never going to leave you….Don't tell me to again!"

 Our gazes met and locked, sweeping me into the moment on a tidal wave of emotion. And then, as I felt the unrelenting urge to hold onto him to calm the whir of desire inside, he reached out and wrapped his hand around my neck, pulled me to him, and kissed me. It wasn't a gentle, tentative kiss. No, this kiss tasted of desperation, focus, and needing me, and as he pulled me tighter, I needed him right back.

 His lips were sweet, a delicious memory of the cookies he'd brought home from the bakery. I let myself kiss him with everything I wanted and everything broken inside me, deepening the kiss and forgetting all that he was was willing to give up. His fingers threaded through my braid, unraveling it like he always did. His hands were hungry and they removed my clothes in a moment's time. Even after all our years together, I was amazed at how he touched me. I always seemed so new to him, like a present he was waiting to unwrap. He ran his hands over my breast, his thumb pausing over the stiff peak before he ravaged it with his mouth, over-saturating me with arousal.

 With a burning glance I urged him to remove his clothing so I could feel every inch of his skin on mine, and after, I marveled at the sight of him. His chiseled chest and strong arms offering scars as evidence of our life before this place, his perfect jaw melted me and I knew that he was mine.

He moved his hands down my torso towards my center and couldn't help but groan and arch my back as I felt electricity moving from my breasts to between my legs. I moaned and writhed at the sensations that he was giving me as he began circling his fingers around and over the tiny bud at the apex of my thighs. I felt waves of pleasure as I felt myself building up to an unavoidable summit. My desire to meet my body's satisfaction was heightened, so I moved my hips to meet Peeta's fingers and to ease the almost unbearable pleasure that was building between my legs.

 He knew how desperately I wanted him inside me, and he met my desire with his arousal. He sank into me, and we gasped in unison at the glorious sensation between us. He moved languidly, savoring every thrust. I could feel the heat building up rapidly, and my back arched as I begged Peeta to speed up, driving me towards the edge of insanity. As Peeta increased the tempo, his fingers moved over my warm skin, and then it was there, the heavenly release was just within reach. Peeta slammed deeper inside me, deeper than he'd ever been and I reached the point of no return. "Peeta," I cried as my body seemed to float and fall. . .only to float again. My nails dug into his arms and I whimpered for more. He happily obliged and I fell over the edge again as he reached his own climax. We come unglued together, shuddering, as the spasms rocked our bodies and ecstasy exploded from our centers.

 Afterward, as he held me the way he has held me since I was a scared sixteen year old girl in a cave, I realized there was something I needed to do. Wordlessly, I got up and proceeded downstairs.

 "Where are you going?" He called, but I didn't reply. I went straight to the hearth in the sitting room and begin piling logs for the fire. Peeta came downstairs as I lit the fireplace ablaze.

 "What are you doing? It's July."

 I gave him a sweet kiss before heading into the kitchen. I returned with two slices of day-old Rye bread and two forks. Then I placed them on the floor near the fire.

 "What is going on?" He demanded.

 "Will you be mine forever?" I ask, as I handed him a slice of bread on a fork.

 "Always," he said, thrusting the bread into the flame.

 After we eat each other's charred slices Peeta asked,

 "We just got married, real or not real?"

 I say, "Real."

 Our lives carry on uneventfully after that. Some days are still too painful to bear, but we cope with the help of each other. Peeta tries to hide the gleam in his eyes from me when he sees a father and son come into the bakery a few years later. I pretend like I don't see it.

 Through the years he never asked, and I was grateful not to have the conversation, but all of that changed when I saw her.

 I'm helping Peeta in the bakery after my hunting plans had fallen through, thanks to the terrible spring storm that is still wreaking havoc outside, when the door chimes. She walks in and I am taken aback. She's maybe six years old and has beautiful blond curls surrounding her face. Her eyes are the epitome of seam gray. My heart leaps at the sight of her.

 "Is this what our child would look like?" My imagination surprises me, just when the little girl interrupts my daydream.

 "Is Mr. Peeta here?"

 "He sure is, "I reply, still mesmerized.

 Peeta, hearing the little girl's voice came around from the back and her eyes light up when she sees him, and she runs up to give him a hug.

 "Can you tell me another story?" She begs.

 "Okay, but just a quick one," he says as he scoops her up and sits her on the counter. He tells her a tale about a fish making friends with a turtle then hands her a beautifully frosted cookie and puts her back down on the floor.

 "Can I come back tomorrow?" She asks sweetly.

 "Of course, tell your mother hello for me!"

 "Ok," she says as she opens her little umbrella and walks out into the rain.

 "She looks like…..us," I mutter accidentally out loud.

 "I guess she does," Peeta says and he doesn't try to hide his grin as he walks back into the kitchen.

 Thoughts of the little blond girl occupy my thoughts over the next few days, then the next few weeks. What games does she play? What songs does she sing? I find myself thinking of the imaginary child that I was pregnant with during our second games. She would be 14 today. I think about the stories Peeta would've told her. I imagine watching them bake cookies together. I picture myself taking her into the woods for the first time. How happy would her childhood have been? I repress all these thoughts often, because this is not what I want. Not what I have ever wanted.

 I convince my brain to change the subject, but my heart never does, and our imaginary child finds her way into my dreams. Not the nightmares that I'm used to, but sweet dreams that threaten my resolve. As I lay awake one night avoiding the dancing girl who infiltrates my dreams so often now, my mind wanders to a night on a beach a long time ago, When I longed for a time with no Capitol, no games, where Peeta's child could be safe.

 …and just like that my crumbling wall shatters, and I am scared. Scared of the feelings I have and how those feelings affect my life, and his. There are no games, no Capitol, not even anymore hunger, really. There is peace, which is what I wanted. There are still dangers, there always will be, but we would fiercely protect our child the same way we protect each other. With this revelation I know sleep will not come tonight, so I go downstairs to prepare to head into the woods for an early morning hunt.

 I pack some items, leave a note for Peeta and head into the woods. My mind is always clearest with I'm hunting and today is no exception. As I sit waiting for a rabbit or squirrel to cross my path, I ask myself what I want. The answer is simple; I want Peeta to be happy. After all that he has saved me from…death, myself, loneliness. I think that I can finally start to repay my boy with the bread.

 I leave my spot in the woods determined and if I let myself admit it….even excited.

 I don't tell Peeta about my decision. If for some reason I can't get pregnant, I don't want to break his heart.

 It's been 3 months since I threw out my Capitol pregnancy tablets and I notice my cycle is late. I remember from my mother's healer days that I need to wait a few weeks to see our healer in District 12 to find out if I am actually pregnant.

 I'm skinning a squirrel at the sink after my hunt when I feel the overwhelming wave of nausea rush over me. If I wasn't already at the sink I know I would have made a huge mess on the floor. I heave until I have nothing left then sink onto the cold tile. With my mind still reeling from the episode at the sink, I count on my fingers how long it has been since I bled, about three weeks now. I think it's time to visit the healer.

 I go to see her first thing the next day, forgoing my morning in the woods. I wouldn't be focused enough to kill anything anyway, I'm far to nervous. She examines me and tells me that all her tests confirm my pregnancy, but if I want a definite answer she will need to send a sample of my blood to the Capitol. I agree, knowing I won't get the results for two weeks.

 Two more weeks until I can share the news with Peeta that will change his life.

 Ten days later and it's Peeta who answers the phone.

 "Ms. Everdeen," he calls to me sarcastically.

 "You have a very important phone call," he says in his best Capitol accent.

 "Hello," I say nervously.

 "Ms. Everdeen, this is Helia from the Capitol Maternity Clinic. I am just calling to tell you your test results. Let me be the first to congratulation you and Mr. Mellark on your pregnancy. I want you to know that you have my discretion. Thank you for all that you've done." She finishes.

 "Uh, ok, thank you for calling." I say hanging up the receiver.

 "What was that about?" He asks when I get back to the kitchen.

 "I've been keeping a secret," I say. "I just needed to be sure before I said anything, but now I am."

 "Are you okay?" He rushes to me.

 "Yes, I am…well...we are," I say as I move his hand to rest on my lower abdomen.

 "Are you serious? When? Why? How did this happen?"

 "I'm serious. About 2 months ago. I needed this for you. I meant for it to happen…It was the little blond girl from the bakery." I admit, as my secrets erupt like lava from my lips.

 Peeta looks at me in astonishment as his bright blue eyes fill with tears. He embraces me quickly, and with purpose, and he kisses my neck.

 "You never cease to amaze me, Ms. Everdeen."

 "Mellark, I whisper to him, it's Mrs. Mellark."

[cheesebuns-lambstew]

imagine katniss waking up from a nightmare where peeta died in it and she just hugs peeta so tight and she repeats her lines from the quell while crying like "YOU WERE DEAD PEETA YOU WERE DEAD YOUR HEART STOPPED!" and peeta is so confused because they've only been together again for a month after the rebellion then he comforts her like "It's not real, Katniss. It's not real." then forehead kiss and nuzzling in her hair oh shit hskahabsjabzksbsjsns I am dying

[lemonluvgirl]

everlark!prompt; very assertive!peeta.

katniss has a massive set back (during the gbt phase) & stops taking care of herself. peeta cannot take it and decides if she won’t care for herself he’ll do it for her. very intimate and whompy

ok ok...I've got something for this :)

"Katniss. It's been weeks.You haven't come out of your house. You haven't moved from your bed. This has to stop. I've tried doing this the nice way. Haymitch says you don't need nice though. He says you need a kick in the ass. After seeing you like this for so long I'm inclined to agree with him. If you don't get up I'm going to walk over there and pick you up and-"

I jump down from the bed and run out of the room. I feel my throat close up, and I barely make it to the study before I can crawl under the desk and collapse in a fit of angry tears.

I cry and cry and kick at the chair until it falls over and I bite my lip in an attempt to keep from screaming, long and hard against the disgustingly bright morning. My head feels like it's pulling in two different directions and I feel disoriented and sick.

I hate these moments. I hate Peeta for forcing me to face them. There's nothing but fury and panic in my blood and its like a race inside me to see which of the stronger emotions will win out.

These are the times when my mind shifts back into that place where the Games are alive all around me and more real than the floor beneath me, or the sounds of people's voices as they try to reach me.

Sometimes all it takes is a moment, just one where I was surprised, and frightened and vulnerable. It all started with a change to my routine.

Just one difference in how Sae woke me up once morning, she was humming under her breath when she came in and found me asleep on the couch. She patted my hair gently and when I woke up I expected to find Prim or my mother's face above me. What I got instead was a healthy dose of reality. So instead of facing the fact that neither of the two people I desperately wanted to see in that moment would ever come back to 12, to me, I ran. Up stairs and into my bed and shut myself away from everything and everyone.

I reverted back to a violent, distrusting, dangerous creature. A creation of their Games. Someone not quite sane, or maybe even fully human.

The thought makes me shake in my thin robe. I recall the questions they used to ask me. About my name, where I was from, and what date it was.

Lots of boring tedious things designed to persuade me that the Games are over, that I am safe. But even though my mind can recognize if it's been more than two years, I can never feel really safe.

Because the Hunger Games will never be over. Not for me, and not for anyone I care about that is still left living. And there are very few of those.

My mind cannot wrap itself around the idea that there is something after this, that I will inevitably have to go on. This moment feels like a cavernous mouth opening wide to swallow me whole, and I can't move, I can't speak. I can only try not to scream as it devours me.

Darkness and tears, for I don't know how long, are the only things I can feel.

But then, there are strong arms around me. Familiar arms. Solid and true. And I am in the cave again, seeking refuge from the storm that blows hard and hateful around me, and inside my mind. I clutch him, in the cave, under the desk, in both places and both times at once. Needing the gentleness that lives deep within him to anchor me to this reality.

And he holds me together with his kind hands, until I stop shaking. The boy who the Capitol tried to brainwash and torture until he was ready to kill me on sight, until he was nothing but a twisted mutt instead of the boy with the bread I had come to need so much. They had tried to cut the kindness out of his very skin, until there was nothing left but rage and hatred. But they failed. Because Peeta's goodness lives in his soul, and that was one thing they couldn't touch no matter how hard they tried.

He is oddly enough the only one who makes me feel safe. We stay locked in a gentle embrace, until I am placid in his arms.

I look up at him with tears in my eyes, so ashamed of myself for causing all this trouble. But he looks down at me tenderly, without any trace of resentment. It breaks me, that look. Because it makes me need him even more.

"Hey, there." He says in that forgiving and merciful tone that always seems to cut to the core of my soul.

"Hi." I tell him shakily.

"Ready to come out? Or do you need a few more minutes?" He asks, and I breathe out heavily. No sense in dragging it out anymore than I've already done.

"I'm ready." I tell him and he smiles. It takes a minute, because we're in an awkward position under the desk, and his leg doesn't make it easy for him to maneuver. But we make it to a standing position, and he wraps me in a warm hug and I hold him tight again.

"Sorry for messing up your morning." I told him as I rested my head against his heartbeat.

"Any morning I get to spend with you is a great one." He tells me kindly. And because this moment is so solemn and I know right now we are both totally bared and honest with each other in the face of our shared tragedies, I know he means it, one hundred percent.

It makes me sigh. And I close my eyes just wanting to feel it, this moment. Where the one before this one almost drove me over the edge with terror and dread, and I couldn't rack my brain hard enough to figure out how to force myself to let it pass, this moment in his arms I want the opposite.

I want to stretch it, and spin it around us like a cocoon where we can hide away from everything and everyone that waits for us when we step out of here.

When I open my eyes to look up at him I see his eyes are closed, and he's smiling that almost smile that captures me so easily.

And I think,

I want...

I want...

I want to be done running from it.

Is that the same as a fish wanting to fly? The same as a mountain wanting to blow away in the breeze?

Could I ever really do it?

Emotions, especially when they ran high in me, were often unreliable…

I took a deep breath and resolved to let the feelings settle before I did anything hasty again.

But I did stretch onto my tiptoes and plant a soft, light kiss on his almost smiling lips.

"What was that for?" He asked with an amused grin. His blue eyes sparking in the light of the morning streaming in from the window.

"That was because this time, I needed a kiss, but you're just too gentlemanly to press your advantage." I tell him quietly, and match his smile.

"Oh, well in that case," He says as he wraps his arms around me and kisses me a little longer, but still gently and mostly chastely.

"See? What'd I tell you? Great morning." He says when he breaks away from me and I smile against his lips, so very lighthearted for a second.

so that's what I have for that prompt. Not my usual PWP stuff, but I also enjoy writing sweet Everlark moments as well!

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 14

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay (Canon divergence) Multi-chapter, Rated M SUMMARY: Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie becomes a fixture in Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is rekindled. Will it lead to something more? Meanwhile, Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something which will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. READ MORE Chapter 14 Snake in the grass She had a hard face, the old lady across the street. An olive green scarf cuffed her neck and, poorly hidden by the white powder, her skin was a web of lines and wrinkles and surgically implanted yellow gemstones. She had sad eyes, Haymitch thought. Pale, green eyes that pierced his across the road when he locked Effie’s door after himself. “Evenin’,” he nodded and she pressed her lips together so tightly the wrinkles seemed to sew her mouth together. Of course Haymitch was used to people staring at him. With contempt, fear, desire. He’d gotten them all. When he was younger it had bother him a lot but it was years now since he’d cared. The old woman had turned away from him. But it wasn’t until she disappeared through the front door just across from Effie’s that he realized. It was her face he’d seen through the window on his last visit here, before he found Effie’s photo album. He fished up a bottle of spirits from his jacket pocket and replaced it with the key.

He needed to buy more condoms, he reminded himself on his slow walk through the Capitol that had awoken to its night life, the air crisper now that they were in October. They still had a few left but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Effie should’ve been way madder at him. He needed only think about his recklessness in the woods to start mind-insulting himself all over again.

Did she think he’d been in control that time? Because the answer was a resounding no! That he didn’t get them into trouble on the first try was just a strike of dumb luck, nothing else. Not that he thought he’d be any good at babymaking, even if he tried. After all those years of heavy drinking his swimmers were probably as deadbeat as the rest of him. But either way, their first time would be the last they ever went sky-diving without a parachute. Finding Octavia’s house was easier than he thought. Effie had pointed it out to him and the music could be heard miles away. When he pushed inside it was like walking into a living fruit salad. People wore dresses made out of fake apples and pears and oranges, eatable hats and jewellery, suits with cherry and blueberry patterns and one woman, he was quite certain, had nothing on but a full body paint that made her look like banana porn. Effie was at the bar, surrounded by the prep team. She looked less crazy for a change. Damn fine actually in a white dress patterned with strawberries and green leaves. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it of course. He’d done his very best to keep her from putting it on earlier and get her back into bed. She would’ve looked lovely with her real strawberry blonde hair loose but he didn’t even try to convince her of that since she wouldn’t ditch the head wraps anyway. When he first saw her in one, he thought they were all gray but like her old wigs, Effie had one in every color. Green today. She practically matched Octavia. “…but he’s a morsel, Effie!” Haymitch heard her delighted squeak as he zig-zagged through the crowds to get to them. “You should really hit that! If things weren’t getting very serious with Quirinus…” “Who truly lives up to his name,” Flavius winked. “Right!” Octavia giggled. ”I would absolutely go for it! You should have some fun!” “Moment of truth,” Venia smiled and put her arm around Effie. “Someone keeping you warm?” “You know you can always tell us!” Flavius said, eager for the latest gossip. ”I mean, I can’t even remember you dating anyone since Julian.” ”Oh, Julian! He was a darling!” Octavia gushed with her hand over her chest. ”But very small hands,” Venia said. ”And we all know what small hands mean!” The three of them burst out laughing and Haymitch bet he was the only one to notice the tiredness underneath Effie’s smile. Which was great news for him, if you thought about it. And she would keep their secret, he knew. Effie had a knack for putting up a facade when she had to. Hell, there was a time she even fooled him. Which was why people (a lot more suspicious than Katniss’s prep team) bought into the whole ”severe meningitis” story she spread out to cover the fact she overdosed on sleeping pills. And what about all the other secrets she kept locked up inside her heart? Was there even a single person in this entire city that she confided in?

“Hi!” Effie said in surprise when Haymitch reached them. She smiled. “What a lovely and unexpected surprise.” “Haymitch, your beard!” Flavius shrieked and stared at the mentor’s stubbled cheeks. “When I gave you that shave you weren’t supposed to let it grow back in!” “And you’re not dressed,” said Octavia, disappointment written all over her green face. “The theme was ‘From the fruit bowl.’” Venia patted her friend’s shoulder soothingly. “We mustn’t hold it against him”, she said. “He’s from District 12.” “Haymitch wasn’t originally able to attend,” said Effie, always one to come to his defense. “We should all just be happy that he is here now.” “Oh, we are, Effie. We are,” said Octavia. She smiled at Haymitch as if to prove it. “And, obviously, I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away!” “Octavia’s birthday parties are legendary,” said Flavius. “Oh, yes,” Venia nodded. “If only Annabel had agreed to play the trumpet for us,” Octavia pouted. “You got them out of the house at least,” said Venia. “Just think about how many parties they’ve declined these past few years. It makes me want to cry!” Octavia nodded sadly. Then she took Effie’s hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “Now have a lovely evening, you two. I hope you change your mind about, you know,” she smiled. “Oh, and Haymitch,” she added. “Don’t despair. In a different light I’m sure you wouldn’t look half as repulsive.” With that the three beauticians darted away again and from Haymitch came a deep sigh. It was creepy how virtually unchanged Katniss’s prep team was. But then again, just like with Effie: Who knew what went on behind closed doors? “Don’t listen to her,” Effie said. The music was so loud they could speak without fear of being over-heard. “You’re a lot more handsome than you let on. I should know. I’ve been right up close.” Haymitch raised his eyebrows, like “seriously?” but Effie only smiled and sipped her drink. He gave up. “I came to walk you home”, he said. “It’s been four hours. I’m famished.” “Only 1,45,” Effie chuckled. “Miss me already, Abernathy?” “I miss not being hungry. Can’t turn your damn stove on. And with our luck we should clear out now anyways before the shit hits the fan.” “Oh, it cannot possibly get any worse than our last Capitol party,” said Effie. “Fine,” she added when she saw his look. “Let me just finish my drink and then we can go. And there is food here if you like.” Haymitch went and filled a plate and they found an empty couch in a more secluded corner of the room. “Who’s Annabel?” he asked, remembering Octavia’s words and the postcard on Effie’s mirror. “A dear friend of mine.” Unlike Haymitch who sat slouched back with the plate precariously balanced on his knee, Effie sat upright on the very edge of the sofa, prim and proper as ever. “We were roommates at the Academy. She was a jeweller before the war. “ She smiled at some memory. “I had my first drink with her, I recall. She found a way to smuggle in bottles through our window and she was always my lookout when I was up on the roof.” “What were you doing on the roof?” “Well, I happened to have a few nocturnal randezvous with the chimney-sweep during my final year. His son to be exact. It was his family’s company and after he was done with the school’s chimneys he went right over to mine. Best sex I’ve ever had! …Up until just recently,” she chuckled when she saw the deep crease between Haymitch’s eyebrows.

“That’s her, over there,” she nodded towards two ladies across the room. “The one in the purple dress.” The woman in question was a tall and slender brunette with barrettes the shape of watermelon slices. She was talking with a short, blonde woman with a serious face. Both of them looked almost too normal to be from the Capitol. “The blonde lady next to her is her wife, June Summer. You remember the gray dress I wore when we… picked apples? It was from her collection.” “That dress was my undoing,” Haymitch mumbled almost absent-mindedly. He stared intently at the dark-haired woman. This Annabel. There was something eerily familiar about her. Something about her brown eyes. The two ladies had spotted them now and headed their way. “We have to call it a night,” said Annabel and she and Effie kissed on the cheeks. “Early train tomorrow. But it was so good to see you again.” “It truly was,” said Effie. Now Annabel’s eyes went to Haymitch who was still on the couch. A gentleman would have shaken her hand but he only stared at her, scowled at her rather, like only Haymitch could. Effie had to introduce them. “This is Haymitch.” “I know,” Annabel said and gave him a warm smile that only made his skin crawl. “Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Abernathy.” When Haymitch didn’t answer Annabel turned back to Effie. “You must come and visit us when we’re back in the Capitol, yes? It’s been too long.” “Of course,” Effie smiled and squeezed their hands goodbye. “Do I know her?” Haymitch mumbled when it was just them again. “No. But you probably see her father in her. She is Caesar Flickerman’s oldest daughter.” That explained it then. Haymitch’s brow crinkled. He’d always been ambivalent when it came to the famous TV host. “Don’t go with your first assumption, Haymitch,” Effie said softly. “She was the one who made your gold bangle. And Peeta’s medallion.” She swallowed the last of her drink and set the glass on the side-table. “I need to go and powder my nose,” she said. “But I’ll be right back.” “And then we’ll go home,” said Haymitch with a pointed look at her. “Yes, Haymitch, then we’ll go home. I’m actually surprised you lasted this long.” She disappeared and Haymitch returned his focus on the food and his bottle of white liquor that made good on the promise to help him tune out most of the freakish fruit show around him. He was just contemplating how drunk he could get and still be allowed in to Effie’s bed, when something caught his attention. Another guest had arrived. Beer in hand, her long blonde hair entwined with fake yellow strands that matched her dress, she strode in followed by a man with green stripes in his hair and a bored expression. This was truly a night of remembrance. Only this time, he knew exactly where from. It was the same lady they’d seen at the Capitolium. The 20-something woman who made Effie so distraught they’d left the restaurant in a rush. She sipped her bottle and looked over the crowds of flamboyantly dressed people. Her eyes had just landed on him when Effie re-appeared. Just like before, she froze. It lasted only a fraction of a second; he doubted no one but him had even noticed it and when the woman turned and spotted her as well Effie’s smile was back on. Not like when she looked at Annabel or even the prep team. Her bullet proof Capitol smile that no one could see through. “Effie dear!” The light glittered off the woman’s wrist bracelets when she waved. Haymitch didn’t think he’d ever heard such a cold cheerfullness. She had a husky ”cigar-voice”, as Haymitch called it, that didn’t fit the rest of her. The two women kissed as was custom here but Haymitch noticed their lips never touch the other’s cheek, not even close. “Nice party,” the woman smiled sweetly. She was drunk, Haymitch noticed. “Nice party,” said Effie. The young man the woman had arrived with ignored them like he ignored the rest of the party. His heavy-lidded eyes gazed at nothing in particular while he leisurely tapped one of his shiny, silver shoes against the floor. ”This is Paris, my cousin,” the woman said with a wave of her hand like he wasn’t important. “He just got dumped so I thought I’d bring him here so he won’t kill himself out of self-pity.” “Shut your hole,” the man said in a bored voice. “You brought someone too, I see,” she said and looked at Haymitch. “I mean, who else would? It’s Haycock, right?” she asked him. “Haymitch,” Effie corrected, tensely. “Haymitch, this is Gloria. Gloria Highgrass.” “Charmed,” Gloria said and eyed Haymitch up and down. “I hear you’ve been quite the globetrotter, Effie,” she continued and turned to her again. “People say you’ve gone back and forth between the Capitol and that coal district like a yo-yo.” Effie’s lips were pressed to non-existence but she nodded. “I have visited quite frequently.” “Ýes, well,” said Gloria and her eyes went back to Haymitch in the most obvious way possible. “You always liked to be on the bottom, didn’t you? Bottom district. I hope you keep a closer eye on that little tike on fire this time around. We’ve had enough district tantrums to last us a life-time, don’t you think?” She smiled sweetly at them. “Have a nice night.” “That horrible, horrible woman,” Effie said through gritted teeth when Gloria and her cousin had disappeared. “That mean, cold-hearted, scheming, uncaring, badly-dressed…” “Forget about it,” Haymitch muttered. He’d gotten to his feet and to Effie’s side sometime between half of that, his plate still in hand. “Let’s just go home.” “No,” hissed Effie. “Not this time. I am going to give her a piece of my mind. “Once and for all!” But Haymitch caught her wrist when she took a step forward and held it firmly. “Come on, Effs. Before I spill my food.” “Then eat your dinner, Haymitch,” said Effie in a voice that allowed no objections. “Do not care about her!” During this, Gloria had filled a plate with steak and then more steak and now she took a seat in the midst of a group of Capitolians, her cousin included. And while Haymitch ate, Effie sat vigil by his side, cheeks flushed with anger. There was more to this. Something else was going on, but Haymitch didn’t get a chance to ponder over it because of Gloria’s ramblings just a few couches down. He chewed and swallowed. He wanted to leave this freak show but at the same time he was somewhat fascinated by the whole situation. That girl should get some kind of award for being an absolute asshole. The prep team was one thing. They could insult you and annoy you, but at the end of the day and in their own odd way, they meant well. They simply didn’t know any better. Gloria’s intent couldn’t have been more clear. To upset District 12’s mentor and escort til they choked. “…so I wouldn’t leave the Capitol if you paid me! My aunt was a big fan of that District 4 victor. Before he revealed his true colors of course! And she visited the fish district just last month and she told me it was awful! Awful people, awful weather. Children who played in the dirt with no one who looked after them. Their parents should really be ashamed of themselves!” Effie’s hands were fists on her lap. He hadn’t seen her this upset since the time a woman tried to slip something in his drink. And it didn’t help that some of the men and women around Gloria, primarily those whom had gotten a few drinks too many nodded. “OK, I’m done,” Haymitch muttered and put away his plate that was scraped clean. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.” Effie nodded. She was so angry she didn’t even correct him for his language. They got up and, never one to waste good food, Haymitch grabbed his blueberry muffin to go and followed Effie towards the cloak room. Just when they crossed the floor Gloria turned her head, saw the muffin in Haymitch’s hand and said: “Looks to me like the pig has started feeding himself.” “Eff,” Haymitch said when she stopped short but Effie was deaf to his words. “Hold this for me, please,” she said and Haymitch found himself with her purse while Effie walked straight back to Gloria. “Apologize.” Her voice rang loud and clear and people all turned their head. Some of them curiously. Many of them hostile. Octavia and the rest of the prep team stood nervous and big-eyed by the bar. ”Apologize to Haymitch right now.” Gloria’s eyes gleamed with malice. She got to her feet, drink in hand. “You know what? I have a better idea,” she said. “How about you apologize to the rest of us. You and your beau over there. That you even dared to bring him here is just beyond me. And you and Paylor can quack all you want about equality and rights and how ‘we’re not so different from each other’ because we know the truth. They’re nothing but vermin!” Those words had no sooner left Gloria’s mouth before Effie seized her drink and tossed its content right in her face. Everything was chaos after that. The women screamed, Octavia sobbed, people held Gloria back while Haymitch pulled at Effie and Paris he seemed to have finally woken from his boredom, watching the two women with mild interest while they screamed obscenities at one another. “No wonder he left you!” Gloria shrieked and the drink splashed around her face. “What’s it like to fuck her, Haycock? Tight and wet? More like flapping a hot dog in a corridor, huh? Isn’t that what happens after you’ve given birth? Oh, she didn’t tell you?” she laughed at the sight of Haymitch’s face. “Your little Twelve whore there is a mama!” Author’s note: Lot’s of drama in today’s chapter. Now will Haymitch finally learn the truth? Feel free to leave a review if you’re in the review mood. What did you think of Annabel and Gloria? This will not be the last you see of them.

[mtk4fun]

Stories That Snagged My Heart And One That Called Me To Write Fanfiction

The first THG fanfic I ever read back in the summer 2012 was a Galeniss story (there was a link on a THG forum), that I wish I could find again because it was SO funny/strange -- Peeta died of heart problems after the war and Katniss ended up with Gale -- one chapter detailed the Capitol health insurance plan listing deductibles and co-pays, and elaborated on Katniss’ difficulty paying Peeta’s medical expenses after his death.

From that strange start I began searching out postMockingjay tales. I first read Surviving by QueenBrooke, followed by Growing New Wings by Skylark89, Grow Together by Miss Scarlett 05, and The Good Wife by silvercistern. I highly recommend all of them.

I read a lot of altered Games stories, too. One of my favorites was Stacked Odds by @sponsormusings.  I loved DustWriter’s fics.

Eventually I branched out to the world of AUs. I enjoyed every single story I read, but never considered writing a fic until three months into my discovery of fanfiction when I stumbled upon Knot Your Fingers Through Mine by monroeslittle. For some reason this U.S. Civil War historical got me thinking that I SHOULD write a story about the Oregon Trail since I’d studied western American history in college. So I credit that fic as the one that turned me into a fanfiction writer.

Knot Your Fingers Through Mine involves a fake marriage during the American Civil War. Both Katniss and Peeta act as spies for the Union as they pretend to be good Confederates. The writing is lovely, the entire story is about 116,000 words; it’s well worth your time. I recently re-read it and after reading about Katniss and Peeta in so many different settings over nearly five years, it stands the test of time. It’s still one of my favorite stories.

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 13

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay (Canon divergence) Multi-chapter, Rated M SUMMARY: Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie becomes a fixture in Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is rekindled. Will it lead to something more? Meanwhile, Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something which will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. READ MORE Chapter 13 Two’s company five’s a crowd “It’s OK, you can pull over here, please. Thank you.”

Fresh from work, dressed in her chocolate brown outfit Effie stepped out of the cab and into the pancake house.

She used to come here all the time as a girl. There in the corner was their old table, the candy red one with the blue potted angel’s trumpets. Mother always fretted over the calories but it didn’t change the fact all three of them loved pancakes.

So when Effie had lost yet another beauty pageant or audition or contest of some sort, it was her father’s way of coaxing her mother out of the bathroom.

“No more crying,” he’d say gently. “There’ll be new opportunities. Now we will eat and only look ahead.”

Looking back on it now it’d been those moments, between failures, that she’d felt close to her parents. Close and less lonely.

Her apartment was just a stone’s throw away so Effie walked the rest of the way home. She found Haymitch the way she left him. On the couch. Since he seldom slept all night through he took naps during the day and she wasn’t going to disturb him. She only put the food box on the coffee table and went to change clothes.

The bedroom was a mess. The sheets all tangled up, coffee cups and plates with orange peels on the nightstands, discarded clothes everywhere, a wet towel slung over the bed.

She went and seized the half-emptied bottles and there was a part of her that itched to go tell him he should really have cleaned up after himself since he’d been home all day and an even bigger part of her wanted to pour the last of the alcohol down the drain. In the end she decided against both impulses. She placed the bottles by his side of the bed and only hoped he wouldn’t defile all of her apartment quite as quickly as usual.

The light flickered on automatically when she stepped inside the largest closet to hang up her work outfit.

Once upon a time there’d been wigs on display heads in here. She saw herself reflected in all the mirrored wardrobes and as she began to untie the bandana, her mind went back to those disastrous December days when Haymitch first visited.

She’d been so nervous about meeting him again after all those years of silence, especially since she was pretty sure he made the trip because he worried for her, that she’d gone and put on her Capitol armour again.

Of course, she soon realized how silly and unnecessary it was. It was hard not to shake your head at the memory. But she was only human. For some reason she’d felt safer, less exposed behind the Capitol attire.

Noises from the bedroom interrupted her thoughts and she pushed open the door just in time to watch Haymitch grab all the clothes from the bed.

He stopped when he saw her though and Effie couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, his arms full of dirty laundry and the look on his face like she’d caught him doing something naughty.

Haymitch cleared his throat, awkwardly.

“I was just looking for my scotch,” he muttered. With a smile still on her face Effie walked over to him. Clearly she wasn’t the only one who wanted to make a good impression. She took the clothes and tossed them in the armchair so he could put his arms around her instead. With the heels on she didn’t even have to stay on tip-toe to kiss him. He tugged at her jacket so she could shoulder out of it and she chuckled at his unlucky attempts to find a zipper.

“How the fuck does this work?” he muttered and she guided his hands to the hidden buttons so he could open her sheath dress all the way and reveal the pristine white corset underneath.

She was hard as a floorboard. Hell, damn near burglar-proof and while he pulled the dress over her head and went on to fumble with all the tiny little clasps he dimly wondered how she could even remain conscious in that thing. “How long can you stay?” she breathed, more and more deeply as the corset loosened around her.

“Want me out of your hair?”

“Oh, you know that’s… not it.”

Their lips met in an open-mouthed kiss and he disengaged the corset from her and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

Yeah, he knew. And a big part of him was scared shitless for it.

But when she kissed him he was powerless. Completely powerless.

He was so screwed.

xXx

With such a beautiful day you couldn’t stay indoors. At least not according to Effie. So after the pancakes she persuaded Haymitch to take a walk with her.

“You have to see the Roman Stairs,” she smiled and looped her arm around his. With a name like Cupid’s Garden Haymitch suspected the worst but place wasn’t as outrageous as it could have been. Weird trees, maybe. They blushed in all the normal autumn colours like orange, yellow and red but there were also hues like bright blue, silver gray and neon purple. Like a cluster of party balloons or Effie’s old wigs. The Roman Stairs were a slightly curved flight of stairs made from white marble. They had a seat at the top, on either side of a funny stone toad, over-looking a pond. The mockingjays thrived, sharing the spotlight with a gaggle of ducks and two swans. The place felt oddly familiar despite the fact he was pretty sure he would have remembered coming here and then he realized. This was where Effie found him, that time he got tanked up and fell over in the snow. He’d been so drunk he thought he’d trudged back into the Meadow of Twelve. Yeah, that was a funny day. "It's so peaceful around here," Effie said. "And Castor and Pollux had a hand in making this, you know," she smiled and gave the smooth marble a pat. "They're camera men." "I know". She tapped a light finger against the stone toad's head and he saw it had one of them square symbols. Like on the holographic photo she got him for his birthday. "Mind flights," Effie explained. "Pollux still records quite a few of them each year. Documentaries as well, with Cressida. We use them in teaching." “What’cha teach?” Haymitch wondered and it surprised him he’d never actually asked what Effie did those two days a week. If Plutarch ever told him he’d been too drunk to remember. “All manners and how to be good little Effie Trinkets?”

It was meant as a joke but it fell flat and he heard how wrong it sounded. “Ok, not funny,” he said but her smile had faded. “Not funny.” Oh, fuck. Even when he worked his ass off he still fucked up. ”That’s not what I do, Haymitch”, Effie said. “I don’t do that anymore.” She tried to not take it so to heart but she did. The logical part of her knew it wasn’t odd he jumped to that conclusion right away. After all, it was her job during the Games. To teach the tributes how to behave in front of the cameras. But it still hurt that Haymitch thought she did that today, to Gracie and all of her other girls. She remembered her own teacher in etiquettes. Remembered all too well. There was a reason Effie had perfect table manners and could run around in heels full-time. At the Academy, if the book fell off your head when you learned how to walk or if so much as a drop of soup stained the table cloth they wrapped you over the knuckles with a ruler. It shamed her to say she’d fallen back to that old upbringing herself once. When she tried and failed to teach Katniss how to walk and smacked her hand, yelling “Not above the ankles!” Because those methods and worse were so standard practice in the Capitol, among parents and teachers. It had gotten better since after the war. And the new government intended to establish a new, co-ed and less strict school for the Capitol as soon as possible. But until they got that plan off the table they had included mandatory courses for the schools that already existed. Pallas’s Academy where Effie taught and Appollo’s Academy for the boys. Haymitch nudged her knee. “What do you teach then?” he asked. And Effie told him. The districts weren’t the only ones who were told lies. The children of the Capitol and District 2 for that matter they were the “Snow generation”. The youngsters who grew up with the glorified image of President Snow as the father of the nation. Until the rebellion all they even knew was what the regimen chose to tell them. Not just about the Hunger Games. The people of the districts were presented to them as second-rate humans. Good for hard labor but barbaric and nothing like the citizens of the Capitol.

"During my classes we sit down together and talk," Effie said simply. "About compassion and equality, what makes us different and what makes us alike. They write and draw about their feelings and guest speakers come in from all over the country to talk to them about the war, about moral and prejudices and what life is like in the districts. These children were under the Capitol's influence and fed by the propaganda machine every day, we all were and sooner or later those seeds may bear fruit, unless we plant something else. So that's what we try to do."

Effie silenced and looked at him, head high, as if he’d do something like scoff her or her girls but his heart only swelled with pride.

“Didn’t know you’d be good with kids,” he said with a little half-smile. Oh, fuck, that didn’t come out right either. “I mean you are good with kids. As far as I can tell. I mean they wouldn’t have hired someone who weren’t, so…” He shut up at the sight of Effie’s raised eyebrows. She looked rather amused. So instead of keep on digging he brushed his thumb across the symbol on the stone toad. Immediately Cupid’s Garden disappeared. It was just like in Effie’s library. Only now, instead of the pond and all the mockingjays, they were looking at a clear, blue ocean so real and endless it took your breath away. Between the sunbeams that turned the water to diamonds and the white sailboats far in the distance you could have sworn you were in District 4. Made him think of Finn and his stomach tied together with guilt. He hadn’t heard from Annie or Jo since they left. His memories from that morning were hazy but he remembered Finn, sobbing. He should call and apologize. He watched Effie as the mind flight changed to the open fields of District 9. She still hadn’t mentioned the night of the storm, not yet anyway and he was grateful for it. When he was at his absolute lowest he didn’t want people to see it. He was still ashamed about the time he went into withdrawal and scared Prim half to death. He’d had a few spells like the one in the study before and always managed to pull out of them on his own after a few hours. And that’s the way he wanted it, if the alternative was to freak everybody out. He should have known Effie wasn’t going to let him be. “I’ll get us some coffee,” he said when they could see the pond again. The square wasn’t far and coffee was a peace offer as good as any, he reckoned. He disappeared. Effie stayed where she was. The sun shone through the blushing trees and made her bandana glow just as brightly. Coffee would be nice, she thought. But something kept him. And as the minutes passed she began to wonder. Despite it all. And yes, she went to the bar. That was her first impulse and when she couldn’t find him there she wasn’t sure which feeling won over, relief or guilt. So instead she walked over to Jerome, the balding, big-bellied grocer who sold her fruit every week. Her heels clicked against the well-swept paving stones when she crossed Heaven’s Square and over to his stall where he stood surrounded by boxes of oranges and apples, pineapples and watermelons. “Hi, Effie. Any pomegranates today?” It was hard not to like Jerome. And his wife. They’d always been easy to talk to. And their goods were first-class. “Haymitch Abernathy,” he said when she asked. “Yes, I saw him go with the green lady.” “Green lady?” Then she realized. “Oh.” “Effie!” Octavia piped the moment she stepped into the beauty salon and Effie found herself enveloped in her plump, marzipan green arms. “What a lovely surprise!” “Hi, Effie!” Flavius and Venia waved eagerly from across the room. “Look who we found!” And she saw Haymitch’s exhausted face over the edge of a barber’s chair between the two beauticians. “I know I know”, Flavius said, his orange corkscrew curls as impressive as ever. “It’s hard to look straight at him. We weren’t prepared either. He was never easy on the eye of course but don’t worry. When we’re through with him he’ll be perfect. Absolutely perfect! Now, Haymitch,” he said and turned back to him. “We’ve already told you. We’re not going to force you into anything. You can decide for yourself what you want me and Venia to change.” “Yeah?” said Haymitch. “How ‘bout nothing. There’s nothing I wanna change.” If he thought that would do the trick he was sorely mistaken. Flavius and Venia laughed hysterically. “Of course there is!” Venia exclaimed and the bright light from the ceiling reflected off her gold tattoos. She’d had her aqua colored hair styled in a square so it framed her face like a TV-screen. “There’re always things people want to change!” ”What do you say we do something about your nails, Effie,” Octavia smiled. “I’m sorry, we’re actually in a bit of a hurry. I just came here to get Haymitch. But how about next Tuesday?” “How about the hair,” Flavius said and tapped a finger against his purple colored lips, examining Haymitch’s face closely. “You’ll lose an arm.” “We could really make you something special,” said Venia. “Finally.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t be a whiner, Haymitch,” Flavius said. “That’s very unattractive.” “Very,” said Venia. “Do you think I care? You’re not touching it.” Flavius looked to Venia and Venia looked to Flavius and both of them shook their head sadly. “How about the beard then?” Flavius asked finally. ”Can we at least do something about this ghastly stubble?” Haymitch heaved a tremendous sigh. “You can groom it. A bit. And then you’ll let me the hell outta here. And you’ll just trim it. Nothing else.” Flavius opened his mouth. “It’s not open for discussion! Nothing else!” “My pleasure”, Flavius said, even though he looked the opposite. “You know, this is really a waste of our talent.” Haymitch threw Effie a miserable look and she gave him a smile of support. “I’m so happy Haymitch is here. Now you will both come to my party,” piped Octavia. “It will be the event of the year! I can count on you to be there?” “Um…” Effie said. She had RSVP’d to Octavia’s birthday party. But after what had happened with Haymitch all she really wanted to do was stay home and try and figure things out with him. But when she looked into Octavia’s happy, expectant face she knew there was only one answer she could give her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” “What’s that!” Haymitch’s voice boomed from across the room. “What kind of a beautician are you? I told you to trim it! What’s that?” And he pointed to the swirl pattern Flavius had shaved into his stubble. “I’m from Twelve!” “But it will flatter your face,” Flavius said. “I know you people don’t have much cause to look nice in District 12. Katniss already told us that, but since you do have a very twisted view on beauty I thought I’d take it upon myself to show you what your style should look like. Haymitch, just leave yourself in our capable hands and we’ll help you take on the world! Or at least get a girlfriend. Or boyfriend, whatever rocks your boat!” xXx You know, compared to those three you’re a breeze.” Another day had come and gone and they were back in bed. Haymitch with a pair of baby smooth cheeks and Effie, fighting hard not to laugh. “But you have to admit you do look rather handsome,” she said. “I can’t even remember the last time I saw you clean-shaven.” “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Haymitch said. ”And a little heads-up next time won’t hurt.” Effie smiled. It seemed like she’d done that a lot lately. Smile. And he was right of course. She shouldn’t have seen him off to Heaven’s Square and their excellent coffee take away without warning him the beauty salon lay just a few blocks away. If the prep team wanted to rope you in, they roped you in. Especially if unprepared. It was a gift. “I have to go to her party now, don’t I?” Haymitch said tiredly. “Well, I think I ought to at least,” Effie said. “It means a great deal to Octavia. I don’t want to disappoint her. And besides, parties can be nice. You had one for your birthday, remember?” “That wasn’t a party. It was just pay-back. Kids made me.” “How? What did you do?” “Pushed Katniss down the stairs.” “Haymitch!” "It was an accident. I wasn't even that drunk. I just shut the door to the cellar and didn't see her there. Anywho, when the doctor patched her up Katniss threatened to throw me a birthday party just to get back at me. The boy really went with the idea and I didn't get a say. " He threw her a glance. "I think he just wanted to get you there. Reckoned I missed ya." "Did you?" "Meh," Haymitch shrugged. The smile on Effie’s lips widened. "You could have just asked me." "Nah. I prefer you in writing. Then I can put you in a drawer when you start to annoy me." "Mm, yes. Wouldn't that make things simpler." She rested her head into his shoulder, hand against his naked chest. "So... Here we are. Still no walking out?" she asked, only half-jokingly. "I keep expecting you to change your mind." "How 'bout you?" he asked. "Do you know what we're doing?" She gave her head a slight shake. "Not really. I know I don't want to stop." He laced their fingers together. "You and me both." Their lips found each other again and when they kissed with such certainty, what did the rest of it matter? "Mm." Haymitch stopped at the sound of disappointment in Effie's voice. "What?" "Nothing," she said. "It's just… I kind of miss your stubble."

[hayffiebird]

Day 5: Let It Snow!: It is a truth universally acknowledged that Christmas should always come with a heavy layer of snow… Hayffie oneshot, post-mockingjay

Christmas on the Capitol Express

Haymitch lay on the bed, naked but for the bathrobe tied, not very tightly around his waist. He balanced a plate filled with food from the Christmas buffet out in the dining car. Technically you weren’t supposed to take it back to your own quarters but since the train had been stuck now for the past few hours the attendants weren’t very strict about it. “How’s that bird tastin’, Eff?” he asked. Opposite of him, via the video telecommunication transmitter (one of Beetee’s inventions) all of Effie’s living room was projected onto the wall. “It has proven very satisfactory,” she said, cutting her food in neat, elegant motions. She wore a Christmas red vintage dress with her arms and shoulders bare. It was dotted with white stars all over and white fir trees around the hem. He hated to admit it but it looked good on her. Went well with her strawberry blonde hair. The scene looked so real he felt like he needed only take a step and he’d be there with Effie despite her being many miles away. The candles were lit, her Christmas tree decorated, the music playing softly in the background. The table laden with roast turkey, mashed potatoes, roasted root vegetables and other delicacies along with pumpkin pie and an impressive Christmas pudding that Effie definitely hadn’t made herself. They had done this exhausting back and forth dance between Twelve and the Capitol for almost three years now. He supposed you could call them a long distance couple now. Well, in a way they always were even if neither of them had put what they were doing in to so many words.

On a normal year Effie came to Twelve for Christmas and New Years but this year she’d slipped on some ice and sprained her ankle so Haymitch had reluctantly agreed to come to her instead. Leave it to Effie Trinket to be able to put together a Christmas dinner from her sickbed with less than three days prep time. And now he was stuck on this train. The weather hadn’t been as bad when they left Twelve but only a few districts later they had a full blown snowstorm on their hands. The news that Haymitch was stuck somewhere between District 5 and 4 sent Effie into a state and she’d spend the next few hours on the phone being a pain in the ass while speaking to different authorities to try and find a way unstuck him. “Knock it off, sweetheart,” Haymitch said the third time she called and wanted to speak to the conductor. “It’s not their fault.” “Well, you will be here on time for Christmas dinner if I’ll so have to send a hovercraft after you!” But even if Effie’d had one there was no way to navigate through this weather. The train was now moving at a snail’s pace and when Effie finally had to accept he wouldn’t be able to get to her tonight she calmed down. “We can celebrate it anyway,” she said. And with Beetee’s excellent video phone it was more fun than Haymitch had ever thought it would be. Even if he couldn’t touch Effie’s leg under the table and stuff like that, which was unfortunate. After dinner Effie took her glass of wine and limped over to the sofa close to the Christmas tree. “This is for you,” she said and picked up an elegantly wrapped box tied up in flurry gold ribbons. And since he couldn’t be there to open it himself she unwrapped it for him.

It was a thick blue gray muffler and something that looked like a wool cap of some sort. “It’s called a beanie, Effie said. “For your ruthless winters.  Now hopefully you won’t get as many colds that you’ll pass over to me.” “Well, you shouldn’t always be so eager, princess.” Effie held up the beanie next to his face. “I was right! It does go well with your skin tone.” She smiled at him and took a sip from her glass. “Now you’ll open mine.” Haymitch had gotten her a basket of different foods from his district. Goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves, blackberry wine, cans of apple sauce. Eatable things were what he usually gave her and Effie wasn’t disappointed. She had a special liking for goose eggs and a kind of ginger-spiced honey that he always made sure to include. Effie had emptied her glass now and was refilling it. “Oh, I do wish you were here, Haymitch”, she said. ”I mean, in the flesh.” The wine had colored her cheeks a warm red like always when she drank. He wondered how she could be so tipsy already. She hadn’t had too much for dinner. And then he realized. Of course. If there was one thing that sent Effie up the wall it was when an outer obstacle was too great for her to conquer. While on the phone (and on an empty stomach) she’d probably had a furious sip in between each call when they failed to get his train any closer to her city. “I had so much planned,” Effie continued. “And it’s this… this…” she waved her hand in the air, searching for the word, “mirror. I had it put up on the ceiling above the bed. We were supposed to try it on Christmas night.”

Haymitch grinned. Nice! But all he said was, “Better have a glass of water, sweetheart. I won’t be able to put you to bed this time.” “Oh, I’m not drunk,” Effie said with a good natured wave of her glass, nearly splashing wine on herself. She drank up and then went to admiring him over the rim. “Oh, you’re so handsome” she said. “We should have a Christmas toast, Haymitch! Yes, a toast! To them sexy legs that you have and your manly, muscled chest and that very fine behind…”  “How’s this a Christmas toast?”  “…and especially those goodies that you are flashing me right now.” Haymitch’s eyes darted down and he shifted his bathrobe, covering them up. “Hey, sweetheart…” Effie giggled, redder than ever in the face. “Oh, Haymitch. I think you’re amazing. I’ve ever told you you’re amazing? I know I can come off critical but Haymitch, you’re my dearest dearest.” “Alright, Eff. Think you’ve had enough wine for one night,” he said. “Go to bed.” Effie pouted. “But you’re not here. No fun going to bed when you’re not here. But then the next moment she slumped down on the couch, tugging at a blanket until it covered her. “Soft couch,” she mumbled and burrowed her face into one of the velvet cushions. Her eyes were closed and he listened to her deep, slow breathes. Then just when he thought she was out, Effie mumbled, “I don’t wanna wait no more. Why d’ya never ask me?” “’Bout what, sweetheart?” “Come live with you.” Her eyes were still closed but she kept mumbling. ”I always wait for you to ask me but you never ask me.”

Haymitch took a mouthful from his bottle. “Didn’t think you’d wanna live in a place like Twelve.” “I wanna live with you,” Effie pouted. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mirror. I’ll putitup our bedroom. You’re my person. And Katniss and Peeta, they’re my children too. Don’t wanna wait no more.” Haymitch put his bottle on the nightstand and knitted his hands over his stomach. “Alright, princess. I’ll probably regret it but if you still want me to when you’re lucid I’ll ask you. Go to sleep now. Tomorrow you’ll have a headache.”

[hayffiebird]

Day 2: The Haymitch Who Stole Christmas: This is the day for grumpy Haymitch who would rather not be dragged into this humbug! Hayffie oneshot, post-mockingjay

All I want for Christmas is you

One morning two days before Christmas Effie walked into Haymitch’s house and found him lying on the floor. Now, Haymitch on the floor wasn’t exactly a new experience for District 12’s former escort but she had seen him not 10 minutes ago and not even Haymitch Abernathy could get blasted that quickly. She saw snow dripping from his boots, probably the reason he tripped and Haymitch met her gaze, sullenly where he lay on his back cradling his arm. “Haymitch, when you are in so much pain you can’t even get up from the floor that clearly indicates you have to go see the doctor.” It was the fourth time she’d said it.

He didn’t answer that. Of course she knew what it was all about. Haymitch hated hospitals. And how could he not? They only reminded him of his time there after his Games and when he was forced to dry out while locked away in Thirteen. “No need,” he muttered, his face white as a sheet. “Feelin’ much better actually. “Doesn’t hurt as much as before.” “Mm, that’s very convincing,” said Effie. “Then you won’t mind me giving you a hand-up…” “Back off,” Haymitch said when she took a step closer. “Haymitch. You dislocated your shoulder when you fell!” “All your fault then.” Effie sat down on a stool next to him. “It was just meant to be a surprise,” she said. ”And if those Christmas lights were such a thorn in your flesh why didn’t you just tell me? Then I would have been there holding the ladder in place for you.” “You don’t go sneaking up anything else, Eff. I mean it. It’s just a waste of time and money.” “I haven’t and I won’t”, Effie sighed. “No more Christmas decorations of any kind. Now will you please just come with me to the doctor? The longer you lie here the more it will hurt and if you wait with treatment you’ll just risk permanent damage.” Haymitch didn’t respond; just stared sulkily up at the ceiling. Effie pulled herself off the stool and sat down next to him on the floor. Haymitch’s eyebrows crease together at this very un-Effie like behavior. Floor wasn’t exactly clean. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Let’s make a deal. You will let me take you to the hospital and then afterwards we get back, when we are all alone, we’ll open a bottle of wine and… I will do that thing that you like.” “What?” Haymitch frowned. Effie smiled and leaned in, whispering it in his ear. “Really?” “Mm-mhm. We can do it all night, if we want.” Haymitch slumped his head back against the floor. He gave a deep sigh. “Fine.” xXx “Well, Mr. Abernathy. Since there aren’t any fractures I’m going to use a procedure known as ‘reduction,’ meaning your arm will be gently manipulated back into its shoulder socket.” Haymitch sat grim and sour and shirtless on the hospital bed. Effie stood by his side, holding the improvised sling that she’d made for the journey here. His shoulder looked absolutely gruesome. All swelled up and covered in bruises and it jotted out in an angle that was all wrong. “It might take a few minutes”, the man in the white coat continued. “I’m afraid it is rather painful but we have effective pain-killers.” “No pills,” Haymitch muttered. With all that booze still running through his veins it would be a very bad idea. “Just pop the damn thing back in place.” “Of course.” “Do you need a hand to hold?” Effie suggested. “It’s alright,” Haymitch muttered but felt a lot less confident than he sounded. Fuck, this won’t be a picnic. “Let’s just get this over and done with.” And the doctor took his arm from where Haymitch had kept it cradled close to his body and then, slowly and gently, he began to rotate it around the shoulder joint. “Aagh!” Haymitch threw his head back. “Gaaawd!” He grabbed Effie’s hand, almost crushing it in his while every swearword known to man came pouring over his lips. The pain stabbed his shoulder like a thousand darning-needles and radiated all the way down his side up to the point he thought he’d pass out.  He didn’t know how long it lasted. It felt like three or four years. But then, just like that, his shoulder went back into its socket. Haymitch released the breathe he’d been holding, feeling how the pain faded to just a dull throbbing. “Fuck, that’s better”, he panted and he was so relieved he didn’t even realize he was still holding Effie’s hand. Something they never used to do in public. “Now, we ought to do another X-ray,” the doctor said. “To make sure it’s...”  “No way,” Haymitch shook his head. His face was dripping with perspiration. “Thanks. But it’s fine. Pain’s almost gone,” he said and this time it wasn’t a lie. The doctor helped him into a proper sling, keeping his arm in place and told him to at least rest a moment before they went home. Effie had a seat next to his bed once they were alone again. “I never meant to make your Christmas worse,” she said and lent him her handkerchief. “It’s not you,” Haymitch mumbled, wiping the tears and sweat from his face. “Really, Eff. Christmas lights weren’t that bad it’s just… we never really celebrated Christmas here. For most people it was just another day when you starved. Seeing those few with means put up their Christmas decorations and all the extravaganza we were forced to watch on television it was like a mock to the rest of the district who would go to bed just as cold and hungry that night as every other night. And… old habits die hard, you know. It’s not that I don’t want you to have a Christmas.” Effie reached out her hand and caressed the back of her fingers softly against his hot, damp cheek; a gesture he couldn’t help but like when it was Effie who did it. “I don’t need any of that,” she said. “I don’t need a tree or a mistletoe or Christmas lights. I just want to be with you. You and Katniss and Peeta. That’s everything I could ever ask for.” xXx

Days are short in December. When Haymitch and Effie walked out the hospital doors the sky was sprinkled with stars. The night was chilly with the promise of more snow to come but Haymitch, with his arm in a sling, still lingered. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “We’ll get one of those.” And with that he walked her over to the middle of the square where they were selling lush, fragrant, deep green Christmas trees.

[hayffiebird]

I feel within a rain of tears Before the final installment of ‘A rain of tears’ - the chapter and story of Haymitch’s childhood within my hayffie fic “Taste of Strawberries” I made you a little sneak peek or teaser trailer. :) [tumblr] and [FF]

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, Chap. 9 (part three)

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay (Canon divergence) Multi-chapter, Rated M SUMMARY: Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie becomes a fixture in Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is rekindled. Will it lead to something more? Meanwhile, Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something which will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. READ MORE Chapter 9 A rain of tears Part three Everybody called her Madam and her house was the oldest, grayest one in District 12. If you walked beyond her back garden you reached the woodland cemetery. People never went that path though. Not if they could help it. People still held a great respect for the woman but it was more than that. “She’s bad luck,” Mrs. Thornley said and pressed her lips together whenever she saw Madam in town. But bad luck or not it didn’t stop people from buying her liquor. She made it herself from the potatoes she grew in her back garden and from dandelions. Year after year her house had withstood the forces of nature. Weather and wind, sun and rain had left it slant and ramshackle, as if about to collapse in on itself. Haymitch peered at it from behind the honeysuckle bush where all three of them stood hidden. He felt Leonore’s nervous breaths against his neck. “Don’t do it, Haymitch,” she whispered. “Yeah, if you don’t dare that’s OK,” Maysilee teased and Haymitch’s eyebrows knitted together. The wind rustled through the trees and bushes and their hair. Thunder clouds lay overhead, thick and dark. The rain would be here at any moment. Haymitch’s eyes were fixed on Madam’s house.

”Let’s go to Ollie and help him feed the bunnies,” Leonore said but it was like he didn’t hear her. Just like the woman herself, the house didn't seem to belong anywhere. Not the Seam. Not town. If anything it was neighbor with the Victor's Village. If you could call twelve empty houses neighbors. You could see one of the roof tops far on the right, behind the trees. Sometimes they hid in the bushes as close as they could get, peering inside the Village. But they never went any further because if the groundskeeper or anyone else on the Capitol’s payroll saw them in there, they’d really be in trouble and so would their families. Not that they wanted to get closer. The Victor’s Village was a spooky place with all its empty houses and every rose and tree, every blade of grass so in order it didn’t seem natural. The shut windows stared at you, like blind eyes. Waiting for the victors that never came. “She’ll kill you,” Leonore whispered. “She’ll eat you.” Haymitch’s arms prickled but he remained just as determined. He’d never been able to back down from a challenge. He would have to run straight out in to the open to reach the house. Where Madam might lurch inside. He tried to count the distance, to see how long it would take him to get to her door. Just to her door and touch the handle. “Well?” Maysilee said. “You afraid or not?” Haymitch pressed his lips together. “I’m not afraid of anything.” And he ran. “She killed her own granddaughter,” Leonore gasped after him but Haymitch sprinted, quick and silent as a rabbit. He dove under the window just as the first thunder clap cracked over their heads, like a giant slamming two rocks together. The Donner twins gasped and Haymitch put his hand over his mouth so his quick breaths wouldn’t give him away. He listened over the beating of his heart, ready for flight. If Madam was hiding inside. If Madam stood there on the other side of the door, just waiting to grab him. “I want to go home.” “Hush, Lea.” Very very slowly Haymitch poked his nose above the window frame. The thunder rumbled again and he shivered all over. The window was so dirty he hardly saw anything. He could make out the shapes of a floor lamp but no movements. Emboldened he got up from his hunched position. It was an old wooden door, crooked. Didn’t look like it shut properly.

He looked back at the Donner twins. Even Maysilee looked impressed now. Haymitch flashed them a grin and he reached out and touched the handle. “Now you try and behave, Haymitch,” his mother used to say, often, before she set him loose in the morning. Because even if Maysilee was the one who ran the fastest, climbed the highest, found the best hiding places and Leonore always came up with the funniest games there was one thing Haymitch managed better than anyone else and that was getting in trouble. He never meant to. He just seemed to end up there anyway. Like now. Right now. When all he meant to do was touch the handle, he found himself push the door open and step inside. With eyes big and round Haymitch gazed into the one room that was Madam’s house. Not a single kid in school had ever been in here. It didn’t look like a witch’s den, even if it wasn’t as clean as ma kept their house. Drowsy flies buzzed against the windows. The sink was loaded with dirty dishes. There was a bed. The lamp. No carpets on the floor. A filled bookcase that listed to the right. And something else. Haymitch’s eyes had been drawn to it almost as soon as he entered. It was piled over with more books and more stacks of old papers but Haymitch knew what it was the moment he saw it.

A piano. “Go back to your seat, Haymitch. That is not for children,” Mr Branch had once told him in music assembly and closed the fallboard with finality when Haymitch had had the audacity to try and look at the ivories. 'That is not for children'. What an obvious lie. Everybody knew the Branch gave private lessons. It wasn't even a secret. ‘The piano is not for you’. That’s what he meant to say. To spend money on piano lessons was an insanity only town's people like the Undersee’s could afford. But Haymitch bet that even if he’d had a bag full of money his teacher wouldn’t let him touch the piano. Not after what he said in class. The Branch had pressed Leonore to tears one day after she failed to answer one of his questions and Haymitch had shouted “You’re a bully!” right in his face. When Haymitch got older he’d learn to keep a low profile. To hold his tongue, for everyone’s sake. But back then, when he was still little he couldn’t keep quiet if someone was being unfair. And since District 12 didn’t exactly lack injustice it was a big reason why he got into trouble so often. He gazed down at Madam’s piano. The ivories seemed to be the only things in the house that weren’t covered in dust. It was the oldest, most beat down, poor-man’s-piano he’d ever seen. Nothing like the grand piano they played during the president’s birthday and days like that. It probably didn’t even work anymore. And still he itched to try it. To see if he could make a sound, to play even though he didn’t know how to play. And it was then, right then, that the door handle rattled. Haymitch whipped around. He saw the door push inwards, the wood creaked. He looked around in panic and fast as a rat he darted under the bed. He lay there covered in dust and his heart beat so hard he thought she would hear it. The dark sky made it hard to make out any details. All he saw was a large form in the doorway. The bedspread hung halfway down the floor, poorly hiding him and he watched Madam through the fringes as she walked into the room. In a seven year old’s eyes she was enormous. A wall of a woman who seemed to take up the whole house. She wasn’t fat or heavy. Just large. Everything about her was large. She muttered something to herself and the floor creaked as she walked straight towards him and he only just managed to hold back a gasp. But all she did was sit down on the bed which sank from her weight. The seconds ticked by. Rain began to fall, tapping down the windows, thrummed against the roof. Haymitch had Madam’s broad feet just an inch away from his face. With bated breath he listened to one deep sigh after another coming from the woman. And then just when it felt like he couldn’t take another moment of it Madam pulled herself up. She stood there and he wished, wished with all that he had that she’d just realized she had to be someplace else, rain or no rain. And then, out of all things, she walked over to the piano. She sat down, the stool creaked under her weight. And she played a melody Haymitch had never heard before. The Capitol decided which music was being played in Twelve, just as they decided which books you were allowed to read. So most of it was grandiose propaganda of some sort. But this was something else. Something the Branch wouldn’t play during music assembly, he was sure of it. He couldn't see Madam from where he was hiding but the music, those quick and joyful sounds, every high note, every low tune, they seemed to resonate within his very soul. It mesmerized him in a way nothing had ever done. Like she was playing together with the rain. Like it was rain. Without even realizing he did it Haymitch pulled himself up slightly and peered over the bed to try and see how she moved her hands. Her back swayed back and forth in time with the music. He listened with his mouth open, eyes unblinking, spellbound, until the very last note died out and there was just the rain. Madam’s hands fell down from the ivories. And she turned her head and saw him. A gasp escaped Haymitch, he tried to hide back in but it was too late. With a speed impressive for such an big lady Madam jumped from her chair and pulled him out so violently Haymitch thought his head might fall from its neck. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” “What the hell is this!?” Her hoarse, deep voice almost scared the life out of Haymitch. “What are you doing in my house!?” The woman shook him until his teeth clattered. “You little beast! I ought to strike you down!” “I didn’t do nuthin!” “Who are you!?” “Haymitch!” Haymitch cried. “Haymitch Abernathy!” Madam's teeth were bared like a mad dog. Their faces were just inches apart and he saw her closer than he’d ever wanted to see her. Her brow and jaws and nose all seemed to jut out from her face in odd angles. Coarse graying black hair. Eyes like crevices as if she’d been stung by trackerjackers. Haymitch’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took and he didn’t dare move, or look away. He could’ve been a ragdoll in her clawlike hand. Then she released her hold on his arm, but only to grab him by the shirt collar. And she threw him out in the rain and slammed the door. xXx The master craftsman didn’t want any children running around the woodshop but luckily he wasn’t in when Haymitch slipped through the doors. It was always loud in here. The sounds from the machines, the fires going, men shouting. It was essentially a woodshop, stone masonry and blacksmithery all in one. The men working here, because they were essentially men, built houses and furniture, blew glass, fixed leaking roofs, fixed the plumbing, forged crosses, made gravestones. More than one had lost fingers in here or worse. But despite its poor work conditions it was a very sought after place to make a living. An alternative to the mines. Harold was just piecing together a bed and Haymitch climbed up on a stool next to him. Usually when he visited his grandpa Haymitch would talk all the time but now he just sat there, deep in thought. He watched his grandfather work and over the din all around, he could still hear it. The music. The rain music.

“Grandpa.” “Yes, Haymitch?”  “Why does Madam live away from everyone else?”  Harold hammered a nail into the wood with one expert strike.  “Why’re you asking?”  Haymitch shrugged. The old man walked around the bed to take the other side. “Was her father’s house,” he said as he hammered. “He was a gravedigger. Looked after the cemetery.” “Madam’s a gravedigger too?” “She was a teacher.” “All teachers are merchants.” “She was different. She was gifted.” The old man reached for another nail and hammered it into the wood. Haymitch hesitated. “She found her on the graveyard, didn’t she? When she was a baby.” Harold’s eyebrows creased together. “Leonore says Madam killed…” “Haymitch.” There lay a warning in his grandfather’s voice. “You’ll show her respect.” Haymitch bit his lip. “I’m sorry, grandpa,” he said and after that Harold only concentrated on his work.  Haymitch climbed down from the stool. It was time for him to go home anyway. “Haymitch,” Harold said before he could leave and Haymitch turned around.  “You shouldn’t bother Madam,” the old man said. “She deserves to be left alone after all she’s been through.” to be continued... Author’s note: You beginning to put the clues together yet? ;) What do you think? Three more parts to go and then we’ll go back to Effie and the present timeline.

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, Chap. 9 (part two)

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay (Canon divergence) Multi-chapter, Rated M SUMMARY: Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie becomes a fixture in Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is rekindled. Will it lead to something more? Meanwhile, Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something which will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. READ MORE Chapter 9 A rain of tears Part two The steady sound of the sewing machine filled the kitchen. Soup cooked gently on the stove and it was one of those rare peaceful moments in the Abernathy household. Helena steered the textile under the needle and her large stomach pressed out her own dress as she worked. A content little humming came from under the table behind her. The fresh table cloth reached almost all the way down to the floor and the fabric flickered when a child’s foot poked out before it quickly drew back in again. Helena lifted her gaze when a shadow moved outside the window and she saw her husband as he bent over the rain barrel. He did so every day when he got home from work, ever since Haymitch was born. Washed off the worst, put on some fresh clothes so he could spend more time with his son. “Where’s my boy?” Dom asked the moment he opened the door and Haymitch scrambled out so fast he nearly pulled with him his mother's neatly set table. “Here!” Haymitch shrieked and threw himself into his father’s embrace. They laughed like maniacs, both of them as Dom swung him around in his arms. Helena didn’t even turn her head. Almost five years had gotten her used to her two boys and the racket they were making.

“Again!” Haymitch shouted and Dom swung him around over and over until his own chuckles deteriorated into a fit of coughing. He put Haymitch down and the boy tumbled over, dizzy and giggling. Dom pressed his hankie against his mouth trying to stifle the coughs. Haymitch pulled himself up, grinning and tugging at his father’s shirt tail. “Again!” Dom waved him off good-naturedly. “’nother time, kid. Pull me… pull me a chair, will you, Haymitch?” He did so and Dom slumped down on it, panting and wheezing. But he wiped his mouth with the hankie and smiled at Haymitch when the boy crawled up on his lap. Dom ruffled his hair and Haymitch had already begun searching through his pockets. This was a common game in the Abernathy household and it didn’t take Haymitch long to find what he was looking for. “That’s for you,” Dom said. Haymitch held the round smooth gray stone on his palm. It glittered in the afternoon light. He stroked it against his cheek. They were his most beloved treasures. His father had given him one every other day since he turned three. At night Haymitch kept them in a box by the kitchen sofa since his mother didn’t want him to have them with him in bed. It was grandpa Harold who built it. Each night pa lifted the wooden seat off the kitchen sofa revealing the soft beddings underneath. Before they tucked him in and turned the lights off, both he and ma sat with him for a while. Haymitch would then hold on to his father’s large hand and talk nonstop. About what they would do on Sunday, about his little brother or sister. And school. Most of all school. It was still a few months to go. Helena wanted to make him something new for his first day. Something else than his usual clothes made from Dom’s hand-me-downs. A new shirt, a pair of trousers. Haymitch would get to choose the colors. If they could save up enough money until then. Haymitch always woke before anyone else in the family. But one sunny summer morning when breakfast was already on the table Haymitch burrowed down into his pillow and didn’t want to get up. And it didn’t take Helena long to find the first pox on his skin. Dom moved out into the kitchen and their son was installed in their bed. The two of them had already had chicken pox but Haymitch had no fun days to come. Red spots covered him from head to toe and he whimpered and cried and kicked around the bed sheets when his mother wouldn’t let him scratch. Greasy Sae came with a salve from the apothecary and Haymitch spend most of his days sticky and miserable, clutching his mother, disgruntled that her large stomach was so much in the way. Seven days in though, the spots had scabbed over and Haymitch was almost back to normal. A little subdued maybe. By then Helena badly needed to make a visit to the Thornleys in town. The best would have been to leave Haymitch on the bed contentedly and with a book but with Sae not home and with no one else to look after him there was nothing else to do but get the boy dressed and bring him. The market day was in full swing. Haymitch’s pants pockets clinked with each step he took, filled as they were with some of his favorite rocks. He hummed to himself and swung his free hand that wasn’t holding ma’s but when they reached the Thornley’s door and he realized where they were going he resisted, just like Helena knew he would. “Not dagon lady!” “Don’t call her that, Haymitch. She’s not a dragon lady. And it won’t take long.” But Haymitch put his heels in and shook his head, as stubbornly as only Haymitch could be. “No, no, no!” Helena swallowed a sigh. “Alright,” she said. Market stalls had been put up all around the square and in the middle a group of children played, jumping rope and playing clap games. “Then you’ll stay here with the other children where I can see you.” “Mm,” said Haymitch and Helena let him loose, crossing her fingers he’d behave. "I expected you here three days ago," Ruth said when she opened the door. Her daughter peered out behind her skirt. They were very alike Gertie and her mother. Same brown hair, snubbed noses and spotty skin.

Gertie eyed the sewing basket suspiciously. She hated it when Helena arrived since the clothes she made were usually for her. Sometimes she had fits of rage and threw herself on the floor kicking and screaming and boxing herself with her fists. “Haymitch had the chicken pox,” Helena said. “He’s not contagious,” she added but the woman had already ushered her daughter inside. “I shouldn’t have to wait,” Ruth said. “Just because the Seam are spreading around diseases I shouldn’t have to…” Helena listened with very measured features. It was always the same. A rant always followed when she knocked on Thornley’s door, about one thing or the other. “I’m so sick of those brats from the Seam!” was her favorite subject. That Helena might take offence didn’t even seem to have crossed her mind. But she was the only regular customer Helena could count on besides the Undersee’s. And afterwards she could be almost mild. Helena got a feeling Ruth needed someone to talk to, even if it was just to pour out all of her bitterness. She was divorced. And to be devorced was all but unheard of in Twelve. Maybe that’s why she was so angry all the time.

They kept to themselves, Ruth and Gertie, but she liked the baker and his wife, or at least approved of them because Helena saw them often enough in the bakery. Not a surprise really. Kinder people than the Mellark's were hard to come by. And their goods were first class.

Gertie always stood close to the door then, in her brand-new dress and nibbled on the tip of her thumb, not quite sucking on it and when Mrs. Mellark saw it she always told her son to go and say hi to her.

Graham was just two years older than Haymitch but he'd always been big for his age. He never talked much but he was a kind soul, just like his parents. He trudged over to Gertie when his mother told him to. And then the pair of them stood there next to each other, until Ruth was done with her purchases.

They agreed on a new time to take the measurements and bid each other good morning. Helena shifted her weight to her other foot, rubbing her hand against her back. But she hadn’t more than turned from Ruth’s house when she heard a loud shriek. A shriek she recognized.

On the ground in a cloud of dust, Haymitch rolled around with one of the other children. Both he and the girl screamed and hit each other everywhere they could. The other children, frightened and alarmed stood around them and one girl cried with her hand pressed to her face.

Just when Helena and another running woman reach their children the girl with flying blonde hair pressed Haymitch into the dirt. She sat on him and both of them hit their fists on the other wherever they could. “Maysilee!” Mrs Donner pulled the girl up just when Helena pulled her son up. They still tried to kick each other and she kept him away from Maysilee. They were covered in dirt and grazes. And the other girl, the sister, cried more than ever. “What is this, Haymitch!?” “She took my rock!” Haymitch yelled and angry tears ran down his pox covered face. “I didn't!” Maysilee pushed her long blonde hair from her eyes and mouth furiously, her face all red. “I just looked at it!” “Mine! Mine!” Haymitch stomped his foot on the ground. “Stoopid!”  “Haymitch, that’s enough of that,” Helena said and Haymitch silenced but he rubbed his wet cheeks angrily, making them even dirtier. Helena and Mrs Donner pulled their children towards the sweetshop. Haymitch, Maysilee and Leonore who sobbed uncontrollably, holding on to her mother’s hand. In the apartment above they washed off their fighters. Haymitch glared at Maysilee who glared right back while their mother’s put band aids on elbows and knees. Leonore, seeing her sister wasn't in any immediate danger had stopped crying. She watched Haymitch curiously. “Hi,” she said. “Hm,” said Haymitch but after a look from his mother he muttered, “Hello.” “I have a birdie, Maysilee have a birdie too.” “Why don't you show him Pip and Flip,” their mother said. Leonore nodded eagerly and took her sister's hand. Haymitch watched them disappear into the next room. His face was still dark but the curiosity won over and he followed them. Mrs. Donner pulled out a chair for Helena and set the kettle to boil. The canaries sang and twittered in the next room and they heard their children’s voices and most of all Leonore when she eagerly presented the birds. “They grow up so fast,” Mrs. Donner said when she poured tea into their cups. Her long hair was tied back in a bun. Helena remembered her at school, always smiling always surrounded by a group of friends. It was her father’s sweetshop and she had never been short on suitors before she became Mrs Donner. “They’re around the same age, aren’t they?” ”He’ll start school in September,” Helena said. ”The girls too.” She blew on her tea and took a sip. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Mrs. Undersee told me what excellent work you did on Ollie’s school clothes…” xXx And as sunny as anyone could ever wish for, the first day arrived. For Haymitch, for Maysilee and Leonore and all the other five year olds. Haymitch came to school washed and combed and dressed in a sky blue shirt. Pa was in the mines and ma had to be home with his two day old brother. But grandpa Harold was there. He and all the other parents and relatives lined the walls. Haymitch was shown into a bench just behind the Donner girls and when the boy sought him out his grandfather gave him a hint of a wink and Haymitch smiled, a little less nervous. “You’re growing like weed, Haymitch,” pa said when they were all seated at the dinner table. Ma and pa and Haymitch and grandpa Harold. And baby Amadeus. Haymitch carried out the moses basket for ma to put him in so he wouldn’t feel left out. “Soon you’re gonna want to borrow my shaving kit, won’t you?” Dom said and Haymitch grinned, mouth full of stew. ”I don’t have a beard!” “You sure?” Dom said and reached out to feel his chin. But before he could, a spasm of bone rattling coughs ripped through his body and he tipped the water jug over when he pressed his hand against his mouth. A sea of water flowed over the table before Helena could snatch it. Amadeus wailed, Haymitch patted him and tears tilted down Dom’s bright red face. When he lowered the hankie to try and draw a breath it was covered in black mucus. ”You have to see the doctor,” Helena said. That was when they were in bed and both the boys were sleeping. “Helena...” “That’s what he’s here for,” she said. “It’s his job to take care of the coal miners.” “You know what’d happen. He’ll just say I’m not fit to work.” “You can’t go on like this!” she said, fighting to keep her voice down so she wouldn’t wake the children. “There’re four of us now.” “We’ll talk to pa. Maybe the woodshop …” “They haven’t had an apprentice in almost six years now. You think the master’s gonna want a 30 year old hand-me-down coal miner?” Amadeus whimpered in his crib and Helena pulled the covers from the bed. She didn’t look at Dom. “Don’t worry about me, Len,” he said when she put the baby to her chest and the whimpers stopped. “I’ll be fine.” He watched her back as she fed their child and even though neither of them said it they were both thinking it. Dom would be fine, because he had to be. to be continued... Author’s note: I’m really enjoying writing this timeline and a tiny happy clueless Haymitch with his family still alive.

I hope you enjoyed reading. What did you think? Did you recognize all the canon characters? Remember reviews are love and always appreciated and it really help me to update faster. :)