#tessera au

[imprvdente]

Fish Monet's childhood house in District 4 (and her mother's boat)

[maidragoste]

Chapter One: The Reaping

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader (I labeled it that even though Jace's backstory is different from Katniss's but he and Reader will be the star-crossed lovers of district 12)

Chapter Two Chapter Three

I really hope you like it because I'm so excited to write this au!

Please let me know what you think in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys entered the Victors' Village, not that he was a victor. In fact, his name had never come up in the reaping. But he and his brothers lived there since his uncle Larys took care of them after his father died in the middle of an explosion in the mines while working.

The teenager quickly quickened his pace while adjusting his grip on the only two squirrels he had brought from all the ones he had hunted during the morning with Baela, his best friend. He may not have needed to hunt for food anymore but he was one of the few people in District 12 who knew how to hunt. Some people had depended on bartering with his father to bring a plate of food to his table. His father would not have wanted him to leave those people abandoned, so every day he sneaks into the forest with Baela to look for deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds, fish, or any type of edible vegetable or fruit. He always gave the best goods to Baela, after all, she had more mouths to feed with her mother, her twin sister, and her two little brothers. But the rest he exchanged with the merchants or even sometimes he practically ended up giving away his merchandise due to the low price that he was willing to accept from the families that he knew did not have enough to eat to prevent them from ending up asking for more tesserae. Uncle Larys had never told him but Jacaerys knew that he thought he was a fool for doing that.

Jacaerys hated the silence in the village but it was no surprise considering that of the twelve houses there, the only house that was being inhabited was his uncle's. Of the seventy-three Hunger Games that have been held so far, there have only been two victors from District 12 and the only one still alive is Larys Strong.

Jace hurried into the house trying to ignore the heaviness in his stomach.

“I told you Luke would throw up again this year! You owe me!” was the first thing Joffrey, his youngest brother, said when he saw him.

Lucerys, or Luke as his dad had nicknamed him, was the middle brother, and every year he had the worst time during Repairing; which was the moment when the District escort went up to the podium and then took a random piece of paper from each glass urn, one containing the names of all the boys between twelve and eighteen years old and another with the names of the girls. This was how the tributes were chosen for each Hunger Games. Like any coherent person in District 12 Luke feared being chosen as a tribute and unlike Jacaerys he could not hide his fear.

“Take this to the kitchen,” the oldest of the brothers asked, handing the squirrels to Joffrey before running to the bathroom.

When Jacaerys entered he found Luke hunched over, holding the toilet bowl. Ignoring the smell of vomit he hurried to his brother's side and with one hand began to rub soothing circles on Luke's back while the other brushed the hair from his face. He doesn't know how many minutes they stayed like this until the youngest finally stopped vomiting.

"I'm sorry, Jace" Luke apologized with a broken voice and tears on his cheeks, clearly feeling ashamed for being in the same position for another year. "I really tried."

"Hey, you have nothing to apologize for," Jacaerys denied as he helped him up from the floor. "It's okay to be afraid. Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid."

"Joffrey is not afraid," the youngest murmured after cleaning his face.

Joffrey must have been the only thirteen-year-old in District 12 who wasn't horrified at the thought of his name coming up in the Reaping. Jacaerys believed it was because Joff thought he would be able to win the games just by being a relative of a victor. Also, of the three, Joff seemed to want Uncle Larys's validation and attention the most. In these three years living with him he had never told them that he loved them but Jace thought that he should at least care a little about them because otherwise he could have let the authorities take them to the community orphanage instead of taking care of them.

"I told you, an idiot," Jace said, managing to get a small laugh out of Lucerys. "Listen, Luke. Everything will be fine. You never asked for a tessera so your name is only on four pieces of paper."

In the first year when you started to be part of the Reaping, they put your name only once in the bowl. But every time you have a birthday they add another paper with your name on it. If you do not ask for any tessera then it is assumed that you will reach the age of eighteen with only seven papers.

Jacaerys always tried to reassure his brother, and also himself, saying that the chances of his name coming up were low compared to all the people who had to ask for tesserae to be able to eat.

"Lucerys, Jacaerys, start getting ready for the Reaping" Larys ordered from below. There was no need for him to shout as the house was silent.

"Take a bath, you stink" Jacaerys mocked, ruffling Lucerys's hair before leaving him in the bathroom.

"Happy Hunger Games! and may the odds be ever in your favor!" greeted Effie Trinket, the District 12 companion, with the same excitement as in previous years.

While Effie gives a speech about what an honor it is for her to be there as a companion, Jacaerys's eyes meet Baela's. She smiles at him and he struggles to return it. Baela is so brave, he doesn't know how she isn't trembling with fear knowing that her name is at least twenty times. Maybe in recent years she was no longer asking for tesserae but before Jacaerys moved in with his uncle she had.

"Ladies first!" said Effie announcing that it was time for the drawing. She approaches the urn with the girls' names and then reaches deep inside and takes out a piece of paper. You can feel the tension in the air and for a moment everyone seems to hold their breath until Effie opens the paper and I read it "Y/n Y/l!"

Shit. Jacaerys knew you. He had seen you more than once at the bakery when he went to buy or exchange his merchandise with your father. Not only that but you two share classes together at school. You weren't friends. But you were still there for his brothers when he was too devastated by the death of his father to care about anyone else. You were the one who stopped some idiots from bothering Luke at school, you were the one who helped Joffrey with his homework to prevent him from repeating a grade, and you, in the only conversation you ever shared, reminded him that he was important to the District, that his brothers needed him, that he could not abandon them, that his father would not have wanted to see him as a ghost in life, that he would have wanted him to help the people of the District.

Jace had to go say goodbye to you, his gratitude may be three years late but he needed to thank you for taking care of his brothers when he had failed them and remind him that he had a purpose.

Jacaerys watches you move towards the stage. Your posture is straight, your chin up and your steps are firm but he can see the uncertainty in your eyes. You still look pretty in your pink dress, it wasn't glamorous at all—no one in the district wears glamorous clothes—but in his eyes, you stood out. It's probably because, unlike other girls in the district, your clothes didn't hang off and your bones didn't show, you didn't look like someone who was malnourished.

Maybe with your beauty and if you had a good interview you could get lucky and captivate a sponsor, he thought. He hoped that this year his uncle would try even harder to bring home a winner.

Once you are on stage Effie asks for volunteers. Of course, no one offers.

“Now it's time to meet our male tribute!” Effie announces, rushing to the boys' urn and pulling out the first piece of paper she sees, “Lucerys Strong!”

This must be a nightmare, Jacaerys thought. They were supposed to be safe, they had never asked for tesserae. He was snapped out of his stupor by hearing Joffrey's desperate cries calling for Luke as his brother began to walk with fear and tears in his eyes to the stage. Jace didn't even think about it, he broke out of his formation and started running after Lucerys.

“I'm a volunteer!” he shouted when the peacekeepers grabbed him, wanting to take him away from Lucerys. “I volunteered as a tribute!” he repeated, standing up straight, once they released him.

"Magnificent!" Effie exclaimed, happy because there was finally some action in the District. "But you are supposed to present the winner of the reaping first and then ask for volunteers…"

"Just let him up," the mayor interrupted her sharply, clearly upset by the situation. He knew Jacaerys because he always bought strawberries from him and Baela.

“No, Jace!” Lucerys said with a trembling voice, still shaking her head. “You can't!”

“Go to Joffrey” the eldest brother ordered firmly, he wanted to hug Luke but he was afraid that if he did he would also start crying and he couldn't do it knowing that the cameras were filming everything. He couldn't appear weak. “Go,” he repeated, pushing him aside and heading to the stage without looking back.

Jacaerys' brown eyes meet yours and the heaviness in his stomach increases. He would have to kill you if he wanted to come home, you, the person who pushed him to move forward after her father's death. He had never thanked you and much less would he do so now knowing that in a few days, he may be the one who ended up killing you. Obviously, luck was not on his side but if you died he really hoped that it would be another of the tributes who would end up taking your life. If it became him and he managed to win the games, Jacaerys was sure that there would not be a day in which he would not think of you.

"Wonderful!" Effie exclaimed once the young man finished climbing the stairs. "What's your name?"

"Jacaerys Strong," he answered.

"I'll bet my shoes he was your brother. You didn't want him to steal your glory, did you?" The companion's smile disappeared before the furious looks of the victor and the tributes. "Good! Let's give a big round of applause to our new tribute!"

But no one applauds. The entire District demonstrates its disagreement with its silence. Not only that, but many people begin to bring the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then point them at Jacaerys. He looks shocked as they give him that gesture. It was not a common thing to be used in the District but every once in a while, someone would do it during funerals. It was a gesture of giving thanks, of admiration, of farewell to a loved one. The same gesture they had made at his father's funeral. Jacaerys feels a lump form in his throat. He can't help but look at you, this was thanks to you, if you hadn't reminded him that the District needed him like they needed his dad then maybe he would have continued in silence staring into nothingness, living mechanically instead of starting to help people like his dad used to do.

The mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason. Once he finishes he instructs you and Jace to shake hands. Jacaerys notices that your hand is a little smaller than his and he feels warm against hiss. You catch him off guard when you squeeze his hand as if to encourage him. He returns the gesture even though he knows he shouldn't, it wasn't the time to become friends.

Tag: @valeskafics @agqrtz

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[deadly-espresso]

(ankou, conary, luke, imani, ena, thio, tria, tessera, pente, exi, epta, norman, charon)

a sorta gay hih chart hc thingy 🤨😳🌈

yeah i randomly got an idea to make a chart of this cuz my recent art of exi just reminded me of my ezra AU again

(honestly this image isn't even that gay, it looks more like a horde of asexuals to me)

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Ummm- Hunger Games AU with mentor!Price and quarter quell tribute!reader from one of the richer districts, probably 1, 2, or 5.

Warnings for typical Hunger Games stuff and a bit more.

For the quarter quell, the “twist” on the games is that the age range is bumped up, so instead of 12-18 year olds being sent to the games, it’s 19-25 year olds being sent. Sort of as a “oh, you thought you were safe? Well fuck you.”

So, there’s no careers, no one’s ready for it. Even the people who wanted to be careers aren’t in any sort of shape to volunteer as tribute, they were long past 18, they’d missed their chance. They’d probably also grown a bit older and had a moment to reconsider the whole very-likely-dying thing.

Price wasn’t from your district in the first place. He’d was originally from one of the poorer districts, maybe even 12. But he’d upset the capital enough for them to pay attention- either with how he won the games or what he did after (i.e.- definitely tried to organize a resistance). So they’d moved him, cutting him off from all his friends, family, and contacts back in his own district. They’d framed it as a reward or honor, he’d done so good competing in the games/coaching tributes that they’d brought him all the way to whatever district they had him on house arrest in.

It was a richer one- where peacekeepers did more than threaten, tessera rates were low, and most importantly, one where they were able to keep a good eye on him. They kept his communication heavily monitored- something he figured out after one too many letters were delivered torn open, with others seemingly getting “lost in the mail” anytime he mentioned something too honest about his situation.

After a while, he’d stopped writing. The handwriting on the returning letters started looking a bit too unfamiliar. (Or maybe that was just his paranoid. Had Simon always written his A’s slanted? Was he just in a rush?) He couldn’t bear the thought of them being dead and him never knowing- continuing to write to people playing off his hope and pretending to be his dead friends. so he’d simply assumed them so. The incoming letters had gone ignored even as they dwindled to nothing, left to pile under his mail slot and be crumbled against the wall by the door on the rare occasions he left the house.

He couldn’t bring himself to move them- either to throw them away or read them through. To trash them would be accepting his friends’s deaths, but to read them would be to reopen his mind to the gnawing of uncertainty over whether it was really ever them in the first place.

Price has more or less turned into a recluse. He’s paranoid- sure that there’s a peace keeper or someone from the capital following him at every turn (the fear’s not unfounded. He’s caught them enough times that he knows they’re there).

He’s beaten down. Everyone he knew and loved is dead. When he’s called up to mentor tributes, it’s never ones with any chance of winning. It’s never careers- always some poor 12 or 13 year old who’s name was drawn on a year where there didn’t happen to be a career that would take their place.

And they always die. And he always watches. And he always mourns.

If you really want to throw in the angst, we could say that Gaz was either the first tribute he mentored, back before he was taken out of district 12 or he was one of the only ones Price had managed to make himself try with. We could say that he put his whole heart into preparing Kyle for the arena, that he thought this would be the start of the poorer districts actually standing a chance in the games. Kyle was his prodigy, but it didn’t matter. Kyle did everything right, he ignored the cornucopia, just grabbed a hunting knife that was somewhat on its outskirts, but it didn’t count for anything. A career hit him in the back with a throwing knife. One of the first kills of the game. John had braced himself for death, no matter how much he thought Kyle had a chance, but it was all for nothing. He didn’t even have a chance to try to survive, taking his life took no more than the flick of someone’s wrist.

Then, comes you. He’s never happy when he’s called up to mentor a tribute, and this time is no different. When he’s called up to mentor one of the tributes for this year’s games, he doesn’t let himself get hopeful, you don’t stand a chance.

You’re not a career, simple as that. He’s only going through the motions, doing what he can for you even though he knows it’s pointless, just waiting to be allowed to return to his empty house back in victor’s village.

He’s stand-offish to you, barely puts any effort into training you beyond telling you which stations in the training hall will help you the most. He’s not really mentally there. In a way, he hasn’t been for years.

During and before the tribute parade, he’d hardly present. You’re left terrified, always glancing behind you, looking to the man who’s supposed to be your mentor for reassurance and finding him dissociating half the time, and not there the other half.

If you’d prefer the non-angsty route, we could say that Kyle and/or Johnny were your stylists, and that they were doing everything they could to try and make you comfortable.

Johnny was cracking jokes, adjusting to your level depending on your age but still trying to just get you to laugh and have a moment of fun, to act like a 16 or 17 year old again and laugh at his dumb, crude jokes and make cruder ones back.

Then Kyle was being sweet too. (we’ll say he was the one doing costumes, while Johnny was doing more hair and makeup stuff.) He’d sat down with you and showed you the costume ideas he’d had for the tribute parade, coaxing you into giving him feedback- even getting you to choose one of the designs and telling him what you’d want to change about it if you could (which all gets done, naturally. He isn’t going to let you go out there without loving what you’re wearing).

He also explains all the designs to you- letting you why he chose the pieces that he did, how each of the elements somehow represents district two. With district two being the district of masonry and weapons manufacturing, the most common costumes were of Roman generals (not quite sure why really but… okay.) So your options actually end up being pretty okay.

All of this is happening, and John is acting like a zombie. And all of this goes on until the first day of training, when you find him during a lunch break and break down crying. You’re sobbing at his feet, blubbering about how you don’t want to die, you want to live- you know he doesn’t believe in you, but you don’t want to die, please.

(And if you’re going with the extra angst version, then god, you reminded him so much of Kyle in that moment.)

So Price picks himself up. He says “Okay, you want to live? We’re going to make you live.” And starts training the living fuck out of you. Every morning, he has you waking up before and staying up later anyone else. He has you learning survival skills, practicing fighting him, he makes you learn to skin/clean animals and how to use nearly every weapon there might be.

He’s determined. He’s going to make you survive, he’s going to get you through this.

And the entire time you’re in the arena, he’s on the edge of his seat. Alternating between being nauseous from anxiety and watching 24 hour coverage of the game like a hawk. He nearly has a stroke when he watches you narrowly avoid some scrawny guy from district 7 right at the edge of the cornucopia, and he cheers (probably stands up and screams “THATS MY GIRL!!”) when you manage to hold your own in a hand-to-hand fight against a guy a head taller than you long enough to make a break for it. (And god, he’s so proud of you- of how smart you are for recognizing battles you can’t win and focusing on survival)

Even when you end up having to leave all your supplies behind to escape that tribute, you’re immediately sent more. You’d somehow amassed an army of sponsors. Public support within district 2 had originally started skewed towards the male tribute (a 19 year old career who never got a chance to volunteer for the other games- not sure how volunteering works, but I assume it’s first come first serve)

But by now, more and more people were cheering for you as an underdog, even people in the capital. So when it gets out that you’d manage to fend off a much larger opponent like you did and that you’d lost all your supplies in the process- the gifts start (literally) flying in.

And the gamemakers and higher-ups in Panem love you too. You’ve got that typical underdog appeal that can be so popular while still being from a “good” district- that’s why they let you get as far as you do.

And lo and behold, you manage to make it out, winning in a gruesome fight between you and the last surviving tribute that somehow ends up with you both on the ground- throwing punches, tearing hair, clawing at skin.

And when you’re brought out of that arena, you’re a mess. Chunks of hair matted or missing, improperly treated wounds, dehydrated, and probably with a concussion or something of the sort.

But John is the first one by your side, he doesn’t let them keep him back while you’re being put back together. He’s running along side the stretcher the doctors have you on, squeezing one of your hand with both of his as he sobs because you did it- you did it- you did it.

And you’re already so loopy from whatever drugs are in your system that all you can say back is I did it- I did it- I told you I was going to live and I did it.

Afterwards, it’s like the two of were trauma bonded. John stays with you for your entire victory tour- every second of it. He refuses to let you sleep in any room without checking it for cameras or bugs, and he’s always right behind or beside you. You yourself aren’t much better- you end up sleeping in his room more often than not. You can’t stomach the thought of being alone, not when you wake up thinking you’re still back in the arena. You guys end up with a little routine- you knock on his door some time after everyone else is asleep, he lets you in and wordlessly takes a blanket and pillow to curl up on the couch- or, when it’s really bad, he builds a pallet for himself right next to where you’re asleep in his bed, just to give you both the peace of mind that you’re safe now. (No way was he letting you sleep on the floor or couch, no when you’d been in the arena no more than a month ago.)

The touring gose on for a bit over a month, but when you two finally do get back to district two, your house in Victor’s Village never even gets moved into, the two of you stay holed up in John’s house for weeks as you recover mentally and he helps you with processing the PTSD you undoubtedly develop.

And over time, you two become so heavily reliant on each other that separation would kill you. It’s not a healthy relationship- John’s paranoia and trauma of having his entire family and life ripped away once before plays off of your issues- but you two find your a balance.

Depending on how you want to read this, things could stay platonic, but even if they do, it doesn’t look that way. The Capitol sees you moving in with John, they see you curled up in his lap having a flashback or panic attack and interpret it as you two are together- which isn’t exactly a good look for them. Having their victor so obviously traumatized during public events and your victory tour was bad enough, but now the middle aged man refusing to leave her side and constantly glancing around like he’s going to make a break for it is even worse.

They see an older man who was in a position of power over you at some point and say “Oh, yeah. We’re not going to show that to the public.” So they quietly retire you and John as mentors, leaving you two to your own devices once they’re done parading you around.

If things ever do go beyond platonic with you two, it wouldn’t be for a long while. Maybe the lines blurred at first, when it became easy for you two to simply exist in each other’s space- just sitting together for hours holding each other as you try to process that you’re really here- that you really made it out. Years are devoted to simply trying to heal- not just for you, but for John too. He’s terrified the Capitol will try to take you from him like they did with his friends and family back in district 12, and he never truly gets over that fear.(how could anyone, really)

But he does get better- mostly with his depression and general hopelessness. It’s definitely not a healthy relationship, but you two aren’t healthy people. You’ve both been through hell and back, and the fact that you’re still alive is enough of a miracle on its own.

[bizlybebo]

ok yeah because in a hunger games au overlord would absolutely be a presidential figure which i know sounds strange but. essentially i think that mark would get invested in black market trading to work as a subordinate for overlord to get the usual vices that corrupt politicians want (aka drug trafficking+ all those freakin technology gadgets mark uses). and i think he does that all for the promise that they will get by without ashe having to put in her name extra times for tesserae. which makes ashe getting drawn that much worse because it’s so unlikely

[tracybirds]

Been sitting on this bit of fic for a couple of months :) Think I'm ready to put it out in the world

Hunger Games!AU - initially inspired by @tanushakyrano who I believe is knee deep in their own hg au <3 and also thanks to @gumnut-logic whom I inflicted this on when I first wrote it and played cheerleader :D

Hopefully more to come (I have ideas.....)

---

The clang of metal on metal pulled Gordon from his sleep, the grey light of a new day greeting him. For a moment, he didn’t move. If he stayed still, curled between Alan and Virgil, he could stave off the day and ignore the jolt of fear that clamoured for attention in his belly.

Another clanging pulled Scott upright, muttering as he rubbed a hand across his eyes. He reached out and placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and shook him roughly.

“C’mon Virg, dawn bell’s ringing.”

Virgil groaned, mumbling for five more minutes, but the day had begun and no-one in the district cared if one of their citizens would rather have a lie in.

Scott glanced across at Gordon as he hauled Virgil upright. “Don’t you have chores waiting? Harvest doesn’t stop just because it’s Reaping Day. You and John better get gone.”

Gordon didn’t say anything, the sick feeling in his stomach intensifying at the word. John was up already, pulling on a threadbare shirt. He didn’t look at any of them.

Alan yawned. “What am I doing today?”

Scott crouched down, smile fixed firmly in place. “You’re going to help Grandma with the meals – try barter with the Jones-es down the way for some grain – and we’ll see you in the afternoon.”

“Can’t I help with harvest? Pol’s been helping since his birthday.”

Scott swallowed thickly. “No, Allie. Not ‘til your first reaping’s done, you remember what Dad said. We’ll talk next summer.”

Alan nodded. “Okay,” he said easily. “Next year then.”

He scurried away without further protest, and Scott slumped forward with a sigh.

“It’ll be over soon,” said John quietly.

No-one said anything, not wanting to speak their fears aloud and invite them into reality.

“I want to apply for extra,” said Gordon, suddenly. “It’s John’s last year, and we need the tesserae.”

 “No.”

All three older brothers spoke as one.

Gordon met their horrified gaze steadily, his jaw set and face grim.

“You know I’m right. We nearly didn’t make this year without Virgil’s share. If we lose John’s too and there’s no way to make up the shortfall, what do you think will happen come winter?”

“It’s not worth the risk,” spat Scott, his fists shaking.

Gordon snorted. “It’s no less than what you did for us, or Virgil, or John. I’m fifteen now. John’s put his name in, what, eighteen times this year?”

“Twenty-four,” corrected John. He shrank back from Scott and Virgil’s twin looks of horror.

“I knew it,” said Gordon triumphantly. “Every year since he was fourteen, I’m older than that.”

“This isn’t a game, Gordon,” snapped Virgil. “You don’t win for getting your name in the most times, you just get dead.”

“We need that tesserae,” argued Gordon. “Look, I get it, we’ve been that low before, I can do the math as well as you, but last time that happened we had Dad.”

At once, the light diminished, as though the mere mention of the man who’d towered over their family extinguished all oxygen from the room, taking the candle flame with it.

Scott looked like he wanted to hit something, fists clenching and unclenching at his side.

“We can manage,” said Virgil. “There’ll be three of us working for the adult wage next year, we won’t need the extras.”

“Yes, we will,” interjected John.

The admission fell from gritted teeth. Living was a numbers game in the districts, and no-one kept track of the numbers better than John. Gordon exhaled slowly, hope and dread flickering internally with equal measure.

“He’s right,” said John, his voice louder. “Maybe we’ll survive without it, but that’s no guarantee if the crops fail like they did in ’56. Or if a new craze sweeps the Capitol and they need more grain than usual to make whatever extravagant waste-of-space meal is the hot menu item of the season. There’s too many uncertainties, and we can’t base our food supply on a best-case scenario.”

Virgil chewed at his bottom lip, still staring at Scott worriedly. “We might need to trade for medicine or fuel come winter, too,” he admitted reluctantly. “It was only luck we didn’t lose Gordon right alongside Dad that year. And Coney, she says this winter’s going to be a hard one.”

“What does Coney know?” scoffed Scott. “You’d risk Gordon’s life on a maybe?”

“It’s my choice,” snapped Gordon. “Besides, I’d be six slips out of what, a thousand? We need those supplies and you know it.”

Scott opened his mouth to argue, but a second clanging toll rung out and interrupted him.

“That’s the assembly bell,” said Virgil, eyes darting between Scott and the door. “We need to go.”

Scott hesitated, lips pursed as he levelled Gordon with a solemn look in his eyes. “Your choice. You’re right, I can’t stop you. But please, Gordon, think it through. You don’t know what it’s like to watch your little brothers…” His breath heaved in his chest, and he turned away. “Let’s go,” he said to Virgil, leaving John and Gordon behind.

The tension remained, shooting sizzling static through the air as Gordon tried to catch his thoughts and reorder them.

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” said John quietly.

“Next year we’ll need more than seven allotments.”

There wasn’t much else to say. Unless they brought in a fourth wage next year, by manner of marriage which only meant another mouth to feed, they wouldn’t last the winter.

The wages in District 11 were just enough to keep the population meagrely fed when the weather was fair and the farming a success. But there was no margin for error. Consequently, the poorest members of the district were reliant on the reaping for extra resources.

Gordon wasn’t stupid.

The least valuable were always more likely to be selected.

It was simple math.

[peakyswritings]

The Danger We Come From

CHAPTER I

A Peaky Blinders x Hunger Games crossover

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nina Ferrante

Summary: during the 72nd edition of the Hunger Games, one year after her victory, Nina becomes a mentor. But the events of the previous edition are still imprinted in her mind.

Warnings: mentions of violence and murder, no proofreading, I’m writing this for fun.

A/N: here’s the first chapter of this crossover! If you haven’t read it yet, I recommend you to catch up with Nina’s backstory before reading this. More information is given in the masterlist I’ve linked below. Also, there’s a brief reference to @justrainandcoffee ’ OC, Rose.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul (set in canon times).

AU MASTERLIST

71st edition of the Hunger Games - Reaping Day

After tying the end of her braid with a white ribbon, Nina took one last look in the mirror to make sure her appearance was neat enough. The clothes she had chosen for the occasion were a bit too lose for her scrawny frame, but she had found a safety pin to hold the grey skirt up, and the white shirt was clean and undamaged. It wasn’t that bad, overall.

Fear felt like a vice grip on her stomach as she tried to muster up the courage to head to the kitchen, convincing herself that the sooner she got to the Justice Building, the sooner it would end. But the thing was - it wouldn’t end. Nina could feel it in her bones, she was sure of it as she was sure of her own name. She had asked for too many tesserae for the odds to be in her favour one last time.

When she entered the room, her father was sitting at the table, staring at an indefinite point ahead of him. Her mother and brothers were probably already waiting outside, like every year. Just like her, they seemed eager to get it over with, like one would with the extraction of an aching tooth.

“I’m ready,” she murmured, catching her dad’s attention. Ready. It sounded almost funny, in that situation.

He got up from the chair, giving her the sad, forced smile of a man who knew his daughter was up for a slaughter, but tried to keep it together for everybody’s sake. “It’s the last year,” he murmured, reaching his hand out to tenderly caress her cheek. “You can be lucky once again.”

Those words struck a chord in Nina, awakening the sleeping rage she fought so hard to keep at bay. She could’ve been lucky, if she hadn’t been forced to take the burden of not only one, but two families on her shoulders, without anyone doing a damn thing about it.

“It’s time to go,” she simply said, taking a step back.

Her father’s hand fell by his side, and a flicker of pain shone in his eyes for a second. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him right away, causing him to give up before even starting to speak. Not surprised by that silence, Nina nodded to herself and turned around to walk to the door, but she was soon stopped by her dad’s voice.

“Nina,” he called her, making her turn around. His gaze hesitantly found hers, and it took him a moment to begin again. “How many times is your name in the reaping bowl?”

She faltered at his question, and she wondered if it’d be of any use to tell him the truth now. It didn’t take her long for concluding that it wouldn’t. What was done was done, and it wasn’t like he didn’t already knew the truth. He just pretended to be oblivious to it, just like everybody else.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, walking out the door.

The banners of the Capitol solemnly hanged off the walls of the Justice Building, their bright red sharply contrasting with the grey stones. The expensive fabric seemed almost ridiculous in that picture of poverty and desolation. Those banners didn’t belong there.

Nina didn’t bat an eye as the peacekeeper prickled her finger to confirm her identity. After six years, she had kind of gotten used to it. The same couldn’t be said for Agnese, her cousin, who still flinched when the needle pierced her skin. When Agnese’s sisters got identified as well, the small group separated, with Nina and Agnese taking their places in the front rows, and the other two with the younger girls. On the stage in front of them stood the two reaping bowls, filled to the top with names. Behind them, the escort sent by the Capitol - what was her name again? -, the mayor and district 9’s only victor, Alfie Solomons. When the mayor stepped forward, the soft buzz of voices died down, and the square fell silent. Agnese grabbed Nina’s hand and held it tightly, giving her an encouraging look. She really thought that both of them would make it.

As the mayor recited the history of Panem, Nina’s mind started wandering, searching for something else to focus on. She had heard it so many times that she would be able to recite it by heart, if asked to. She needed to get out of there, if just for a moment, even if just with her head, but the only thing she could think about was what would happen if the escort called her name. The escort. The woman’s intricate hairstyle caught her eye, offering her brain some sort of escape. Lime green was an interesting choice of colour. It had to be a wig. There was no way that one person could have that much hair. How did it even manage to stay up like that?

Her mind chased thought after thought, capturing the most trivial details and transforming them into the object of deep reflection, until the escort’s high-pitched voice snapped her out of that sort of trance. She hadn’t even noticed that she had stepped forward, taking the mayor’s place.

“Now it’s time for us to find out who will have the honour to represent district 9 in the 71st edition of the Hunger Games,” she smiled, making her way toward one of the bowls. “As usual, ladies first…”

She’d call her name. She knew it.

Nina held her breath as the escort grabbed one of the white cards, her struggling with opening it with her long nails only prolonging the painful wait.

There was her name on that card. She could feel it. She would be reaped. She would die.

If the square had been silent before, now one could almost hear the fluttering of a fly’s wings. Time seemed to stand still while the woman finally opened the card, taking her time before announcing the female tribute.

“Nina Ferrante.”

Nina’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and for a moment she hoped it had only been a trick of her imagination. But it wasn’t. The way her cousin turned to look at her, like the other people who knew her, told her that all of that was very much real. Her ears rang as she made her way toward the stage, a strange feeling of numbness pervading her completely. A few peacekeepers boarded her to make sure she wouldn’t run away. But running away was the last thing on her mind while she mechanically walked in the empty corridor that lead to the stage, as if she wasn’t fully aware of what was happening. However, that sort of disconnection didn’t prevent her from yanking her arm free from one of the peacekeepers’ grip when she felt his hand wrap around it, glaring at him. If she had to walk to her death, she’d walk on her own.

“Come, dear,” the escort gently put a hand behind her shoulder once she stepped on the stage, guiding her to the center.

Nina slowly started to register what was happening around her, to her, when she met Alfie Solomons’s unreadable gaze, and when the crowd’s pitiful look started to pierce through her. It angered her, the way they were looking at her. As if she had absolutely no chance.

“And for the boy…” the woman reached the other bowl, catching her attention once again. She opened the card, this time more easily. “Oliver Cropper.”

Oliver Cropper. She knew that boy. They were in the same class, before he dropped out of school to help his family. They even say next to each other, from time to time. As far as she could remember, he was a nice kid, a bit lonely and broody, but kind. The tall, lanky boy stepped on the stage, in his dark eyes the same look she had until a couple of minutes ago.

“Our tributes from district 9,” the escort proclaimed, a big smile plastered on her face. “Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

72nd edition of the Hunger Games - Reaping Day

Exactly one year had passed since Nina’s reaping. Against all expectations, she was still there, alive. Even her family couldn’t believe it when she was proclaimed victor.

In her house in the Victor’s Village, the life she had left behind felt as distant as ever. She didn’t have to ask for tesserae to support her family, she didn’t have to put up with Salvatore’s addiction, or Pietro’s anger, or her mother’s apathy, or her father’s silence. They had all chosen to keep on living in the family home, chained to the memory of a time when they were still whole. Nina, on the other hand, had closed the door on it. Or so she told herself.

She was a mentor, now. After the reaping, she would head to Capitol City once again, but with an entirely different role. Although she hated the idea of going back to that place, she felt somehow obliged to. There was only one victor besides her in district 9, after all, and those kids needed all the advice they could get. It didn’t feel right to go on with her life without caring about what happened to them.

72 years. That shit had been going on for 72 years, and no one had ever done anything to stop it. People watched their children be sent to the slaughter without batting an eye, simply accepting the way things were. What was it that made them so afraid to act? The worst was already happening, right in front of their eyes.

There had to be a way to stop it. It was a nagging thought, one that had been tormenting her for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that things had to stay like that forever. There had to be a way to change them.

The square in front of the Justice Building was just starting to fill up when Nina arrived. Hundreds of kids, waiting for two of them to be possibly sent to their deaths, hoping the selected cards wouldn’t bear their name. It felt strange, not to be part of it anymore. Her two younger cousins were, though, and she couldn’t ignore that the possibility of one of them being reaped was not so distant as she thought. It was a terrifying prospect, one she never allowed herself to dwell on, for the consequences would be devastating.

“Hello, kid,” a familiar voice pulled her from her brooding. She was so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed that Alfie had joined her on the stage.

“Alfie.”

They stood there in silence for a while, in an unspoken agreement that there wasn’t much to say, in that situation. However, Nina didn’t fail to notice the scowl on his face, and couldn’t be silent about it. “I see you’re in a good mood, as usual.”

“No reason to be in a good mood.”

“Right,” she nodded. After a moment of pause, feeling the need to lighten the mood in some way, Nina started speaking again. “Well…” she raised her eyebrows, pondering her next words. “You do have one,” she teased him, holding back a mischievous grin. The glare he sent her way told her he knew all to well what she was referring to. Who she was referring to. And he was probably fed up with her teasing already.

“Just kidding,” she raised her hands in defeat.

Their brief exchange was stopped by the mayor, who stepped forward to officially start the reaping. The whole process went by faster than Nina remembered, and she figured time is perceived in a very different way when you’re not the one risking your life. Much to her relief, none of her cousins were reaped. The names of the 72nd Hunger Games’ tributes were Nora and Lucas.

The boy, Lucas, was thirteen, and Nora was eighteen. Her reaping had been bad luck, just like Nina’s. She looked so young that it felt impossible that they were almost the same age, and Nina wondered, did she look that young too the day of her reaping?

From the reaping on, everything happened in a haze, and before Nina could realise it, they were all sitting in the luxurious train taking them to Capitol City. Elle, the escort, took it upon herself to enumerate all the wonderful things they would see at the Capitol, all the comforts they would be provided with during their stay, the food they would get to eat, but the kids were too busy trying not to panic to even hear a word she was saying.

“Elle,” Nina interrupted her with a scolding tone. “I think it’s enough.”

Silence fell in the wagon, and for a few minutes no one said a thing, gathering their thoughts before starting to talk about more serious matter. Nina felt a pair of eyes on her, and it didn’t take her long to notice that Nora was looking at the ugly scar that crossed the left side of her face, from the tip of her eyebrow to the centre of her cheek. Although the girl was trying to be subtle with it, she wasn’t really discreet. Nina wasn’t offended, though, nor did she feel uneasy. She was aware it was almost impossible not to let the eye fall on it, especially for a young girl.

“Alright,” Nina suddenly spoke, deciding they had wasted enough time already. “First rule, use your brains. They’re the biggest weapon you can have in the Arena.”

“My biggest weapon is my strength.” Lucas interrupted her, causing her to turn to look at him. She knew he hadn’t done it out of defiance, but out of eagerness to talk about the things he considered most important.

“I’m strong,” he added. “I work the fields with my dad.”

“You work the fields,” Nina repeated, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“The kids from the Career districts are trained in Academies. Chances are, if one of them crosses your path - you’re dead, no matter how strong you are.”

Alfie cleared his throat, probably signalling her that she was being a bit too harsh, but she ignored him.

“It’s a good thing to be strong,” she continued, softening her tone a bit. “It’s an advantage. But even your strength won’t be enough to save you if you don’t know how to use your head. The Arena is tricky. It’s not just the tributes that you need to worry about. It’s the plants, the berries, the mutts, even the fucking water. You have to know what to look out for.”

Lucas nodded, leaning back in his seat as he listened attentively to Nina’s words.

“Watch, observe, take as much as you can. You know your strengths, so work on your weaknesses,” she concluded, shifting her gaze between Lucas and Nora.

She didn’t want to seem mean, or sour, but she knew that being too soft wouldn’t help those kids. They didn’t need someone to sugarcoat the truth, they needed to know what to expect if they wanted to have a chance to get out of the Arena alive. And Nina would do anything in her power to help them. It was her job, now. She couldn’t fail them.

NEXT CHAPTER

@call-sign-shark @justrainandcoffee @evita-shelby @emotionalcadaver

[silversnowblossom]

so hear me out: vbs hunger games au

toya and an are careers

akito and kohane are not

toya is bc his dad is like the head peacekeeper of district 1 or smthing so he had toya train and so this round toya volunteers bc he really doesn't care if he lives or dies he just wants to get away from his dad

an is less of a traditional career. her dad is a very popular, very successful victor of a previous game, and he has her trained just in case she ever gets picked, so that she has the best possible chance of survival. the hope is that she doesn't but. just in case. she is certainly not being pushed to volunteer like most careers. bc this is district 4 tho, and district 4 doesn't always have career volunteers, not like district 1 and 2, so the chance is still there that she'd get picked and ken wants her to be able to live if she does

i think kohane would be district 11 and akito would be district 12

akito and ena's dad is probs from the town, not the seam, which is why ena can afford to be indoors and do art and stuff, but we all know their dad is a piece of shit who doesn't rlly care about his kids so sometimes to make ends meet, akito takes out the tesserae and does some work in the coal mines

yeah anyway an is best at unarmed hand-to-hand combat and toya is trained with a blade

akito and kohane make do, tho kohane's a menace w a mace and she also has the best survival skills of the four. again, district 11, so she knows all about edible and non-edible plants. maybe akito uses a machete?

two possible endings

good ending all four of them pull a katniss & peeta

bad ending akito dies taking a blow for toya and after that toya is an absolute mess and slips back to that apathy where he doesn't care if he lives or dies. the only reason he doesn't kill himself is bc that would dishonor akito's sacrifice but he's not particularly desperate to live and so he gets reckless, and it's almost a relief when he dies

after that, it's just an and kohane. they survive until the end, and that's when an reveals she got poisoned by one of the capitol's muttations or smthing and she dies in kohane's arms

kohane's the victor, but--

it's a hollow victory when all three of her friends are dead

[stonesparrow]

Dcst Hunger Games AU pt. 1

Senku and Taiju have grown up alongside each other in the impoverished agricultural district of Panem, and for three years they’ve been lucky enough to escape the annual reaping for tributes to send to the Hunger Games. But Senku knows that even if the odds are in your favor, that doesn’t mean you’re safe. Luckily, he has a plan for that.

Taiju Oki will live.

Note: Senku’s portrayed as a closeted trans boy in this and he does get misgendered/presents as his AGAB to people that don’t know him. Also, warning for Hunger Games levels of angst and violence.

District 3 is a Career District in this one instead of District 4 because I made Kohaku be from District 4 but I didn’t want her to be a Career :P

Read on ao3!

“Well, there we go,” Senku says, wiping his hands on the dirt and oil soaked rag hanging from his belt as he steps away from the tractor. “It should work just fine now.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Natri sighs, brushing the gray hairs off his brow. “I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to meet quota for the fall harvest without it.”

He pays Senku, but when the teenager tallies up the bills, he frowns. “Hey old man, this is more than we agreed upon.”

 Natri claps a hand on Senku’s shoulder. “You and your father do so much for everyone,” he says solemnly. “Honest mechanics are hard to come by, you know. The money is well deserved.”

Senku thrusts the extra cash at him. “You have your daughter and her husband and their four children. I’ve just got my dad, you know that. It’s not logical to tip so much when your family needs it more.”

Natri pushes his hand back. “If you hadn’t fixed the tractor, we would pay eight times that tip in fees to the Capitol for failing to meet quota. And then what would we do?” He crosses his arms. “You can use that money to buy better tools for the workshop to keep everything running—that’ll help us all far more than a measly extra loaf of bread on the table.”

Senku scowls. “Fine.” He pockets the money and hops on his bike for the journey home.

As he rolls past fields of corn and potatoes and squash, the frustration in Senku’s stomach simmers. District 11 grows enough food to feed the entire nation of Panem, and yet if they don’t meet the harvest quota every season it’s their citizens that suffer the pangs of hunger and weakness of malnutrition. Starving in a sea of food, all because of some fuckwads with blue skin and glittery eyebrows hundreds of miles away.

He gets home and parks his bike outside the garage as he does every evening. His dad stops humming and slides out from under a truck he’s working on.

“How’d it go?”

“Pretty straightforward,” Senku reports, putting his tool bag down. “Old Nat gave me a tip, said to invest it back into the shop.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Too nice,” Senku mutters. “How does he hope to feed three adults and four kids like that?”

“Sometimes you need those little moments of kindness to prove to yourself that you’re still human,” Byakuya says nonchalantly as he returns to working on the truck. 

Senku has no answer for that, so he heads inside to make them some dinner. Two seed rolls, some corn gruel, and hastily thrown together vegetables, same as yesterday. 

As the Ishigamis eat in the dimming light of the sun, Senku tries not to think about the bags of tesserae grain in Taiju’s house. 

One more little slip of paper for every year and every ration of rough brown grain and oil for Taiju and his grandparents. His name will be in the reaping balls sixteen times this year to Senku’s four.

The math is actually in both boys’ favor. There are families like the Rayes, with so many more mouths to feed and so often failing to meet quota that they claim tesserae ten times over. There are kids who claim more tesserae than is needed for their own families, to sell the extra at a lower price to those without any reaping-age children, especially the old folks. 

When taking that into account, sixteen out of hundreds of thousands of entries in the boys’ bowl and four out of just as many in the girls’ seems like a drop of water in an ocean.

But Senku’s not the sort to put faith in random chance. Even if they make it out this year, there’s always the next, for three more years. And when Taiju is eighteen he’ll have twenty-eight, and Senku will only have seven. 

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

His dad has always been too discerning for his own good. “Mmm.” Senku gets up to put his dishes in the sink.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know your hobbies are important to you, but there’s a lot of other work to be done too.”

“I know, Dad.”

Byakuya gives him a warm, genuine smile, the kind that’s rare in District 11 no matter what you have on the table. “Hey. You know I’m proud of you right? You’re going to do a lot of good for people.”

Senku rolls his eyes. “Duh. What else did you raise me to do, old man?”

Senku goes down into the basement, where he’s got several small samples of tesserae grain in little tins, a meticulously cleaned work table, a hand-powered generator for the lights, stacks of books reaching past the top of his head, and an extremely rough microscope he built himself from old parts. 

Tesserae has been specifically engineered so that it’s impossible to grow from the grain alone. Senku has been working diligently every night since he was ten years old to figure out the exact conditions he needs for it to sprout.

If the Peacekeepers ever found out what he was doing, it’d mean death for him and his dad. So Byakuya only ever refers to Senku’s “hobby” as reading up on the subject of agricultural science, saying Senku is interested in improving crop yields. A good interest for a District 11 kid to have.

If Senku can crack the code, he could start growing the nutrient-dense tesserae grain in secret. It’d be difficult to get any decent yield in the basement, and distributing it to the families that need it is a whole other issue, but that’s a problem for Future Senku, if he can get that far at all. 

He doesn’t really know what’ll happen to all this research if he gets reaped next week, but that’s a problem for Future Senku too. 

—————

Senku hates Reaping Day for a multitude of awful reasons, but putting on his outfit has to be in the top five. Because if the worst comes to worst, he’s got a Contingency Plan in mind, and that requires looking like a girl.

Everyone in the Ishigamis’ neighborhood and most of their clients know Senku as “Byakuya’s son,” and even those who aren’t familiar with him would most often guess male from a first glance at his baggy cotton shirt, wild, untamable hair, and bony frame. Senku doesn’t have much of a chest, which he’s always been glad for, and his voice is just deep enough that it would give even someone who was expecting a girl pause.

But just because everyone at home knows who he is doesn’t mean the Capitol knows or cares. At his first reaping Senku had worn the baggy, oversized mechanic’s overalls his father had sewn for him, and he remembers the Capitol woman who had scanned the crowd for the sorry saps she’d be dragging to their deaths staring at him like some sort of vermin next to the cute little girls in their innocent white dresses.

Senku had enjoyed the revulsion on her face, but that was before he had been forced to come up with the Contingency Plan the year after. And now, standing in front of the mirror in an awkwardly fitting dress with his hair brushed neatly over his shoulders, he turns his head this way and that, checking to make sure he looks sufficiently like what the marker on his birth certificate says. 

 “Pink really isn’t your color,” Byakuya says quietly as they make their way to the Justice Building. He’s smiling with his mouth as if sharing a joke, but there’s no sparkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, green would probably have been better,” Senku remarks just as nonchalantly. 

He’s never told Byakuya about the Contingency Plan, but he suspects his dad somehow knew he’d come up with it before even Senku did. 

They meet up with the Okis as they enter the square. Taiju’s usual boisterous greeting is reduced to a simple polite hello. They get registered, and like they’ve done for the past three years, Byakuya goes to stand with Taiju’s grandparents, while Senku lets Taiju hug him one more time before they get separated into the different gender blocks.

Senku idly wonders if his classmates know why he only dresses as his assigned gender for the one day of the reaping every year. None of them have ever asked, probably because they figure that whatever’s going on in Senku’s brain is too complicated to get into. Or maybe they’re just overly polite. Not really his problem as long as they don’t get in the way of the Plan.

The girls on either side of him are clothed much like he is—in their best, sometimes only dresses, the ones that make them look sweeter, more feminine, more innocent. Senku can count on one hand the number of girls who are wearing anything other than cheap cotton or linen. Not even the wealthiest of District 11 are spared.

So why, Senku thinks bitterly as the mayor drones on and on with the speech he’s given every year, do you still go along with it? 

The Capitol escort finally steps forward to the girls’ bowl. Senku kind of tuned out her introduction, so he doesn’t know the name of the person condemning the name on the slip of paper that she lifts into the air.

“Luna Wright!”

Everyone gasps as Senku raises his eyebrows. That’s the Mayor’s own daughter, the eighteen-year-old girl dressed in a sateen gown worth more than the Ishigamis’ entire home probably. She immediately bursts into tears, but her father’s face simply goes blank as she’s escorted to the stage.

 Senku doesn’t know anything about Luna personally, only seen her from a distance while doing jobs in the town proper. But he looks at her now, at her soft hands and even softer face, and thinks, she won’t last a day. 

The Capitol lady moves onto the boys’ bowl, and Senku holds his breath. The unfurling of the paper, in his mind, matches the sound of a gun having its safety taken off. 

“Taiju Oki!”

 Taiju’s face goes white as his grandmother screams, her husband weeping as he holds onto her. Byakuya however, simply stares at Senku. Waiting.

As Taiju ascends the stage and the Capitol lady goes to lift his and Luna’s hands, Senku puts the next step of the Contingency Plan into motion.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Everyone snaps to attention at his firm, calm statement. Classmates and neighbors give him looks like he’s lost his mind. Luna stares at him with a gratitude he does not deserve while Taiju’s face is filled with nothing but horror.

“Senku?” He murmurs in disbelief as his childhood friend takes Luna’s place on the stage. “What are you—“

“Well, this is a surprise!” The Capitol lady has shaken off her shock. “Would anyone like to volunteer in Taiju’s place, then?”

Silence. 

“Then let’s give it up for the tributes of District 11, Senku Ishigami and Taiju Oki!”

—————

Before Taiju can demand an explanation, he and Senku are dragged inside the Justice Building into separate rooms to say goodbye to their families.

Senku and Byakuya stand face to face, not saying a word. Senku looks up at his dad as if daring him to challenge his decision. Byakuya however, merely nods.

“You planned this from the start. To volunteer if Taiju was ever picked.”

Senku shrugs. “Is it that obvious? Idiot wouldn’t last five minutes without me.” He crosses his arms. “Sorry I won’t be able to help out around the shop anymore. There’s a list of guys I pinned up by my workbench who have been asking about mechanics’ apprenticeships though. At least a few of them have to be halfway decent.” Because he’s not coming home, and they both know it. Not without Taiju. Never without Taiju. 

Byakuya smiles and there’s no light in his eyes. “None like you though.” 

Senku looks down. “Yeah, too bad.”

His dad reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small glass medallion on a string. “Here. Your token.”

“Eh? I didn’t know you prepared anything.” Senku takes the medallion. It’s barely five centimeters across, and has concentric rings carved into it. It looks like it’s from a piece of scrap in the workshop. When he tilts in in the light, it refracts and sends rainbows scattering across his hand. “Neat.” 

Byakuya envelops him in a hug. “I’ll take care of your houseplants for you,” he says. Senku nods. He trusts his dad to continue his research as best he can. Eventually, they could save lives.

“When Taiju comes home,” Senku says, “look out for him, will you? I don’t want him lazing about like a useless sack of rocks without me to follow around.”

“I promise I will. As long as you promise me something too.”

Senku blinks. “What?”

His father’s voice lowers to barely a whisper as he squeezes Senku tight. “Give them hell.” 

Senku’s eyes widen. Byakuya doesn’t mean the other tributes. He smirks. “Already planning on it, old man.”

Byakuya smiles, genuinely this time, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “That’s my boy.”

—————

As soon as they get on the train, Taiju is frantically begging Senku to explain why he volunteered, tears forming in his eyes. Which is when Senku enacts the next step of the Contingency Plan.

He convinces Taiju that they can win together. That between his brains and Taiju’s brawn, they’ll find a way to outsmart the games, a loophole, an escape exit. 

Taiju, trusting, kind, wonderful Taiju, believes him. 

After all, Senku has never lied to him before. 

Their mentor is an enormous man named Brody Dudley, the winner of the 50th Hunger Games. He scrutinizes both of them from under dark sunglasses, and Senku scrutinizes him right back.

“Pink really isn’t your color, kid,” is the first thing the man says. Senku blinks.

“Yeah, no, it wasn’t my first choice,” he finds himself saying. “It was cheap though.”

“Evidently. Alright. Your first assignment is to watch the recordings of the reapings and report your observations to me in exactly two hours. Go.”

He leaves them alone in the train car, and Taiju glances at Senku. “He, um. Seems okay?”

Senku wouldn’t be so sure. Brody Dudley, he knows, has killed people. Senku researched every single former Victor of District 11 still alive, he knows what price they paid to come home.

But he doesn’t mention this to Taiju, only boots up the screen in front of them to play back the reapings. Assessing one’s opponents isn’t a bad idea, after all.

To their surprise though, the first reaping recording—the one from District 12—appears to have been cut down considerably for…some reason. It doesn’t show the girl being selected, only the boy—she’s already on the stage. 

Their Capitol escort raises their hands into the air and calls their names—the girl is Mirai Shishio. Tears run down her face as she stares blankly at the ground. Everyone around them seems profoundly disturbed by something.

“Why’d they cut the footage?” Taiju wonders. Senku frowns.

“Something must have happened during her reaping that they didn’t like. Let’s just move on for now.”

They skip their own reaping, nothing new to see there, and boot up the next ones. Senku commits every one of their faces to memory. He has no intention of killing anyone—his and Taiju’s strategy will be evasion and survival. But he should know these people, know their names, because the Capitol will soon pretend that he and twenty-two of them no longer exist. 

The videos for Districts 10 and 9 are full recordings—no inexplicable omissions there. Those reapings went predictably, with the expected tears and hopeless expressions. 8, however, is a little different.

“Yuzuriha Ogawa.”

 A petite girl their age with long brown hair and a white headband freezes in the crowd, but only for a moment. She does not cry, or scream, or even frown. 

Instead, she throws her head back and laughs.

“The hell is wrong with her?” Senku blurts out as Yuzuriha ascends the steps to the stage. Taiju doesn’t reply, instead staring at the girl with wide eyes. 

She leans in close to the microphone and flips her hair with a sweet smile and a wink. “Be sure to get my good side, okay?” 

Well. Senku supposes the stress could cause anyone to snap right then and there. 

Yuzuriha’s partner seems to think she’s crazy too, sending her an odd look when he goes to join her. The recording concludes and starts playing the next one automatically.

Nothing particularly interesting happened in Districts 7, 6, and 5 it looks like. In District 4 the tiniest girl Senku’s ever seen is reaped, tears welling up behind her thick round glasses. A moment later, an older girl with blond hair and fierce eyes volunteers in her place. 

“Kohaku Hoseki and Kinro Hashiguchi,” the escort says. When he asks the tributes to offer some comments, Kohaku grabs the microphone.

“Yeah I sure have some comments! FU-“

The recording cuts out. Senku and Taiju glance at each other.

“She sure seems energetic,” Senku deadpans as the next one plays. 

The last three (or first, if going by number) are the ones Senku’s been waiting for. The Career districts. The freaks who train for years and then sign up voluntarily to slaughter their fellow man in the arena with smiles on their faces.

“Homura Momiji and Hyoga Akatsuki!”

District 3’s female tribute is even smaller than Yuzuriha, but no one who volunteers willingly would enter if they didn’t have some sort of killing ability, and Senku resolves to be wary. Her partner however is almost twice her size, with snow white hair, enormous muscles, and an unreadable expression.

“Nikki Hanada and Magma Kengo!”

District 2’s tributes are both heavy looking brick walls of muscle, more so than even Taiju. Senku pushes down the doubt in his stomach. Taiju will win. Taiju will go home. Senku’s gonna make that happen. 

“Kirisame Fujioka and Mozu Torimura!”

Senku raises an eyebrow at how fancy the outfits the District 1 tributes are wearing. Is this some sort of intimidation tactic? Girls are swooning over the boy—eighteen year old Mozu, while Kirisame looks over the crowd with a distant, aloof expression that only seems to highlight her beauty.

And that’s all of them. “That was…” Taiju frowns. “Weird.”

“Everything’s weird, Taiju,” Senku says, standing up and stretching. “Let’s hurry up and report back to Shades McGee before we get lectured.”

Senku finally changes out of the damn dress and into some shorts and a t-shirt, tying his hair up in a ponytail out of his face. Brody doesn’t comment on it as the boys sit down with him.

“First impressions. Now.”

“The Careers are the biggest concern,” Senku says matter-of-factly. “I’m most suspicious of Homura Momiji. She doesn’t look like a powerhouse, which means she’s got something else up her sleeve that we’ll have to look out for. Nobody else really stood out as a major threat, but it’s still too early to make any comprehensive assessments.”

Brody nods as if he’s satisfied with Senku’s evaluation, though his expression doesn’t change. “And what do you think?” He asks Taiju. 

Taiju startles in his seat. “Oh! Um. I agree with Senku, we should definitely avoid the Careers.”

Brody waits. “And the others?”

“Um.” Taiju fidgets with his fingers in his lap. “I don’t know? The girl from Eight…she seems interesting?”

“If by interesting you mean clearly insane,” Senku says. Taiju shakes his head.

“I don’t think she’s insane,” he says. “I think…it was a message. That they wouldn’t get any tears out of her, or something. Maybe…maybe she could be an ally.”

“Allies are risky,” Brody says. “Better stick to the one person you know you can rely on, and that’s you.”

Taiju looks down at his hands and frowns. 

They discuss the upcoming ceremony procedure in brief, curt sentences—Brody seems to prefer only talking to them when necessary. 

Dinner is one of the simultaneously best and worst experiences so far. It’s all so much, bread in all shades rather than just dark brown, fresh butter and cream, protein in the form of entire roasts of meat rather than a few eggs every other week. Taiju’s eyes are enormous as he takes it all in, and Senku has to remind him he can’t eat everything, even if it tastes heavenly.

Senku can’t muster much of an appetite. Even a single bite of the pearly white bread makes him feel sick to his stomach—how many people in the Capitol eat like this while some families in District 11 subsist on nothing but bitter tesserae grain? How much do they gorge on the vegetables Senku’s neighbors shed blood and sweat to grow while Peacekeepers will shoot a child for taking a single bite of an unripe peach?

He fights the urge to scream when the meal is over and there are still so, so many leftovers. Taiju watches the staff wheel away the scraps of food too, astonished that their Capitol escort didn’t even finish the rind of her cheese. Brody however, finished everything that was on his plate, and nothing less.

Before they have time to think much on it, the boys are sent to bed. After about an hour, Taiju knocks on Senku’s door.

“I can’t sleep.” 

Senku sighs in exasperation and walks over to Taiju’s room. “Come on then.”

Taiju’s tangled his blankets up into a sort of nest on the ground—apparently the plush bed was too soft and unfamiliar, and made him feel uneasy. Senku lets Taiju rest his head on his lap as he reviews some notes he took earlier about the other tributes and the ceremony.

“Senku?”

“Hm?”

“We won’t have to…kill anyone, right?”

Senku puts his notebook down. “Taiju, I promise you that you’ll never have to lay a finger on another person, okay? I’ll make sure of it. We’re gonna make it out, the two of us, and it’s all going to be just fine.”

Taiju nods, exhaling slowly. “Okay. Good.” 

He falls asleep not long after that, and Senku carefully extricates himself to return to his own room. 

As he lies in bed staring up at the ceiling, Senku thinks through the Contingency Plan again.

Step 1: When Taiju is reaped for the Hunger Games, volunteer in place of the female tribute. 

Step 2: Convince Taiju the two of you can make it out alive so he doesn’t panic.

Step 3: Present yourself as an innocent young girl to the Capitol to drum up sympathy for sponsors.

Step 4: Get a mid-range training score to fall beneath notice. Make sure Taiju gets a high score so people avoid him. 

Step 5: When the games begin, do everything it takes to survive with Taiju until the other tributes destroy each other.

Step 6: Go home. 

Technically, it isn’t a lie that they’ll both come home at the end. 

It’s just that one of them will be in a box.

[moreespressoformydepresso]

I was just reading a new TBOSAS fic on AO3, it’s a Catching Fire AU that I found by religiously stalking the Treech tag. And the author just informed me that they’re not sure on who gets to live or die so my brain made multiple similar AU’s where I decide who lives :)

So first of all, these will all be focussing on Treech and Lamina. I headcanon Lamina as older than Treech, which I seem to be alone in? I’m sorry but she has big sis energy to me, and also I push the “younger people can be the (more) protective one too” agenda. In my head Treech is 15-16ish? So he’s a few months to a bit over a year younger than Lamina (who is canonically 16). I’m not 100% on what to make their relationship to each other, because I like them both as a ship and as platonic besties. I’ll mention which one I’m using (or if I’m making them related somehow) for the AU’s I’ll share in this post (and, likely, following ones 💜).

Starting off strong: not necessarily a catching fire AU but close enough and better because the second rebellion happens much sooner here. Treech and Lamina can be anything here, but I my top picks are siblings or besties since birth so we’ll go with siblings (nice Gloss and Cashmere parallel minus the career/likely volunteer part I know). Treech is two years younger than Lamina here for ✨reasons✨. The 10th games, with Lucy Gray still as victor through cheating, are the starting point of the mentors. From then on, the victors slowly start taking over the mentoring. The academy students still get a chance at winning the Plinth Prize in the beginning, but that quickly falls away and it’s just about getting your name out there and bragging rights for them.

Lamina wins the 16th games at 16 (ha) as the first female victor for district 7. She and one of the two male victors from previous games are to mentor, since the capitol stipulates that if there are male and female victors, the two mentors have to be one guy and one girl. This happens during her second year as mentor. The mentors all watch the reaping together in the capitol, which also gives them more time to sort mentor business. District 7’s turn comes, and Lamina almost feels bad for how relieved she is that the 18-year-old girl is someone she’d only seen in passing and didn’t actually know. Most of her friends that weren’t already safe aged out this year, meaning she didn’t have to worry about potentially seeing anyone she cared about die. Treech’s name isn’t in the bowl as much as many others, especially since her victory meant her family had enough food to not require tesserae anymore. And their family had already been reaped once, so surely they wouldn’t be picked again, right?

Pause for effect

Treech’s name is called out, and Lamina screams in denial before breaking down into sobs while the other two district 7 victors try to comfort her. The rest of the victors look at her with pity and sympathy. He’d been her motivation to win her games, and now Lamina would have to mentor her little brother despite his low odds of winning the games. I have most of this AU worked out in terms of broad strokes, but I’ll move on to the next one and if you want me to expand just ask me.

Quarter Quell Hell:

The 25th hunger games had the twist that the districts have to vote on their tributes, but I’m adding a twist to this Quarter Quell. The tributes are reaped from bowls filled with the names of the 5% of kids with the least votes, to remind the districts that they’re powerless rather than the whole “you’re the reason they’re dying” thing. And when they’re chosen, a screen will show how many people voted. Treech, being the only direct relative of a victor eligible for the games, received zero votes. Nobody wished it upon their family to lose another child, especially given how they’re so kind to everyone (basing this off of Lamina, and Treech doesn’t have much canon personality so it works).

Quarter Quell Hell 2: Electric Boogaloo:

A completely different first quarter quell, where the tributes are picked from the victor’s direct family. A reminder that even the districts’ strongest cannot protect their loved ones from the capitol. The only restriction is that people above the age of 50 cannot compete, because those people have lived out most of their life expectancy, whereas younger people still have most of their life to live, and it’d be like letting the district off easy. Only one previous victor besides Lamina has a brother, and that brother turned 50 just that year, whereas Treech just turned 15 and is very much eligible. The parents that are still alive are well above the age cutoff. So, while there are more than 20 names in the bowl for the women of district 7 (sisters, wives, and daughters), there’s only one in the bowl for the boys. Treech. Worse even, he won’t be mentored by a previous victor but by a top performing student at the academy to reinforce the intended message.

I’m torn on whether to make Gaius Breen (because he deserves more attention) or Festus Creed his mentor (I wanted to go with Pliny, but he’s so tied to Lamina in my head it would feel weird to go that route). I’m gonna go with Festus, because he was nice to Sejanus. Am I lowkey shipping Festus with Treech now, even though they have no canon interaction whatsoever? … yes, yes I am. Sue me. The reaping happens in the capitol, and while the previous victors must go to the capitol to watch the games they’re only brought there a day before the games begin and aren’t allowed to see their family member at all before the games. Both the tribute and the victor will be alone. I’ve got a lot of ideas for this one, and for my newly invented ship FesTreech, so I’ll write a post about that once I’ve posted this.

Star Crossed Lovers AU:

Lamina is the Girl on Fire of this AU, winning her game with only one kill, made out of compassion. Lumber is used as firewood, and her stylist leaned into it. Hence her also getting a literally flaming hot costume. She’s sent into the games with Treech, but unlike Katniss and Peeta these two are in love from the start. In fact, they were dating before they were reaped. Treech joins the careers, but only because he doesn’t want to be the only one left with Lamina at the end because he doesn’t want to fight her. He leaves the pack very early, rather than being forced out, and stays alone for most of the rest of the games, before teaming up with Lamina towards the end when the announcement comes they can survive together. The announcement is revoked, they almost eat the berries, they’re saved, they start a rebellion.

Actual Catching Fire AU:

Lamina won the 71st games, went back home and started dating Treech. Then Treech got reaped and she had to mentor her boyfriend, but he won too so it’s alright. Then the third Quarter Quell happens, and their worst nightmare comes true. Not only are they both reaped to go back into the arena, but they’re going in together this time. And only one of them will survive. They stick together throughout most of the games, only teaming up with Tanner and Coral briefly because they’re good friends of theirs (less than half of the 75th games’ tributes are 10th games tributes because I refuse to kill any of them if I can prevent it). When the arena is destroyed, Treech is taken by the capitol. I choose him because this leads to Lamina going on an absolute rampage. The capitol was not prepared for her wrath at the sheer audacity they have to dare hurt her boyfriend.

What did I just create? I- it’s 4:35AM please cut me some slack

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Arctic Wolf (1/2)

Virgil had never really thought that he would end up in the Hunger Games.

When he does, he never thought he would come out of it alive.

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| Ao3 | Next ->

| Art of Virgil |

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!! Rated Mature for graphic deptictions of violence !!

Warnings: Death, Government mandated murder, Weapons, Virgil is an orphan street rat and 14 (just stating incase that bothers people), Talk about potential starvation, dehydration and animal attacks, General anxiety.

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3511

Notes:

HELLO!!

So excited to be posting the first part of this fic!! I've been working on it for a little while. I absolutely love this au I've made with @sleepy-nova-tea - it's so awesome :3

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Virgil had never really thought that he would end up in the Hunger Games. 

It’s not like he thought he was immune or above anyone or anything, but he was young - only fourteen - and his name was only in the reaping four times. With no family to provide for, he only needed the tesserae offered for himself, he was in a good position not to be picked when he knew there were others who had their names in forty-odd times. 

That’s why he thought it was just a little bit unfair when they called out his name. 

No-one volunteered, of course, he didn’t expect them to - why would they? It was a death sentence. All he got were a few sympathetic looks from the people in the crowd who knew him. 

At least there was no-one here who would really remember him. 

An orphan with no family or friends to speak of - a few people who could afford to give him food every so often knew who he was, but aside from that… Well. He was glad it was him if the alternative was someone who would leave people behind. 

—-

The female tribute from his district was someone he didn’t know, nor was she someone he was interested in knowing. He was going to be dead soon anyway, it didn’t matter if they made friends, in fact, it would only hurt more if they were. 

Their stay in the Capitol went too quickly and too slowly all at once. Living like kings before they would be sent to the slaughter. It was backhanded and cruel in Virgil’s mind, showing him everything he had ever wanted back home - a warm bed, plentiful food, clean clothes - for such a short time before shoving him into whatever cruel arena they had thought up this year. 

Training was difficult, it gave him a chance to see how the other tribute’s skills compared to his (every single one beating him out by a landslide). There was no way he would be winning this game through combat that was for sure. He saw the girl from two throw a spear with accuracy he couldn’t imagine, he saw the boy from four throwing knives. Everyone seemed to be prioritising combat. Virgil knew he would never win that way, which meant he would have to focus on something else. 

So, Virgil spent all his days training working on survival skills. Learning how to build fires, find shelter, catch food and make natural remedies he could make in his time of need. A lot of the other tributes looked at him like he was dead meat, the first up on the chopping block,  he probably was. 

Virgil was weak, malnourished, spider limbed and quiet, he hadn’t touched a single weapon the entire time they were here and he never once talked to another tribute. What he had done was memorise the plants to look out for, looked for hints in the training exercise as to what the arena might entail so he could better prepare and he had made a point to ask the capitol staff running the training for help and tips - it wasn’t something he had seen anyone else doing aside from those looking to spar, he just hoped that maybe it would be helpful. 

He didn’t talk to anyone during lunch, he didn’t talk to anyone during training, and he certainly didn’t talk to anyone any other time. If he was going to win this game, his only chance was alone. Not that he thought he would, but hey, he may as well try. Besides, that was how he had been all his life. 

During his examination, Virgil showcased his knowledge of poisonous plants and insects. Sure, it wasn’t throwing knives or spears or anything showy or impressive, but it was all he got. 

In the end, he would be going in with a score of five, which, looking on the bright side, made him far less of a target for the careers than some of the higher scoring tributes.

—-

“Virgil Helio, from district eight!” Announced Caesar after his little introduction spiel that Virgil hadn’t paid attention too, and suddenly Virgil was being pushed forward onto the stage by a peacekeeper. He almost tripped over the long cloak his stylist had dressed him in as he climbed the stairs and took his seat. The crowd was cheering - so many people were sitting here, watching, they had come to see the tributes and Virgil could already feel himself freezing up as they went quiet. 

“-Seem a little nervous?”

Virgil only caught the tail end of that statement, but he could guess what Caeser was asking, “Uh- yeah, kinda,” he admitted, “Just- give me a second.”

Taking a deep breath in to steady himself, Virgil closed his eyes and let it out slowly, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Virgil answered the questions almost in a daze. He was asked about his time in district eight, how it felt to be the youngest tribute in the arena, his strengths and weaknesses. He answered them all as though from behind a wall - he heard his own voice like it was distant, that was the only way he felt he could keep it together for the whole interview. 

“So, you’re skilled in finding shelter and catching food,” Caesar said as Virgil finished answering the last question, “So what kind of arena are you hoping for?”

“Well - I guess something with forested areas? Trees are great shelter, and there’s more places to hide,” Virgil said, he didn’t want to reveal all of his plans, “I’m not a fighter.”

—-

It was cold. 

As Virgil rose up on that podium wind whipped his face, icy air ripping into his exposed cheeks. The clothes he had been given to wear into the area were thick and thermal and now he could see why. The entire arena was covered in a blanket of snow, not a single patch of grass to be seen as Virgil looked around. 

The countdown thrummed in his ears, the loud voice counting down making his heart race quicker with every number. A glance around the circle of tributes had Virgil realising that this was about to be a bloodbath. The careers looked downright bloodthirsty, half the others looked determined, one or two looked scared like him. One of the careers glanced in his direction and Virgil could already tell he was done for. 

The cornucopia would be a bloodbath, even if there were valuable supplies, there was no need for him to go for them if he was dead. What he did see as the timer ticked down to zero was a backpack and supplies not too far from his podium. If he could grab them and run into the pines behind him he would be set - well, that did depend on what was in the bag, but at least he wouldn’t be dead. 

With the sound of the gong ringing in his ears, Virgil sprinted. 

He was one of the first of the tributes off of their podiums, and he had snatched up the bag he had seen before any of them had even reached a weapon. Running for the treeline he also paused to grab what looked like a thermal blanket before darting back past the podiums and towards the tree line - tall pines covered in snow and ice just waiting to fall. He was just glad that the weather was looking clear for now. Who knew how quickly that would change. 

Just as he reached the treeline, Virgil heard what sounded like an arrow whistle past him and ducked to the side, the metal arrow thudded into a tree trunk, and Virgil glanced back before running over and yanking it back out. It wasn’t as good as a knife or a sword, but a weapon was a weapon, at least he had one. 

Finding a cave was easy. Finding a good cave was the hard part.

It turned out that the arena was covered in holes, there were nooks and crannies and places to hide everywhere. Half of them had animals in them - he could tell by nearby damaged branches and tousled shrubbery as well as tracks in the snow. Virgil was not taking his chances with a wolf or a lynx, let alone some kind of mutt. 

He wandered for what must have been at least a few hours, only coming across one other tribute in that time. Hissing at her seemed to have scared her off though, so Virgil had been safe enough for now.

As he walked he mentally mapped out the arena. The cornucopia had been in a clearing, trees on all sides. To the north he came across a huge basin. He’d spotted a few caves in the dipping terrain, but they weren’t worth it. There was no tree cover there and besides, he’d freeze to death before the next dawn. There was a frozen river further west, behind which seemed to be more clifflike terrain. Virgil wouldn’t risk climbing it for now. In an emergency, he knew he could, but he didn’t want to risk falling and breaking his neck for potentially no reward this early on. No. Careful to pick the part of the river where the ice should be thickest, Virgil made his way across and began to search along the rocky cliffs for caves. It would make sense for caves to form along here and eventually he found the jackpot. A cave with a small entrance he had to crawl through, pretty hidden by the rocks and with a tiny freshwater stream that travelled from under the ice it seemed. It was perfect for a home base.

In the backpack he had grabbed there was some rope, a few matches, and a pouch that he could attach to his belt to hold a weapon he didn’t have. Well - he had his arrow, but that wouldn’t fit, it was meant for a knife or dagger. He was sure he could find some kind of use for it regardless. 

The biggest glaring issue Virgil faced was that he had no food. In fact, looking at it critically as he tried to fall asleep that night, wrapped up in the insulating blanket he was incredibly grateful he had grabbed, Virgil was food. Every time he risked leaving his cave he risked being attacked by some kind of predator, something that needed to eat just like him. It was highly doubtful that there would be anything to hunt out here either. Maybe there would be a few plants he could grab, worst come to worst he could eat the pine needles off of the trees, but really if he wanted to stay alive he would have to find something better. 

The only place he could get something better was the cornucopia - or the other tributes. The careers were probably guarding the cornucopia and all of its supplies. He was lucky to have a freshwater supply, but he wouldn’t last another day without something to eat. 

He fell asleep last night after listening to the cannons - seven fallen tributes on the first day. Well, at least Virgil wasn’t out last. 

The next morning he woke up to an empty stomach. With a soft groan he sat up, his blanket still wrapped snugly around him and for a few seconds was reminded of home during the winter. 

Trying so hard to think of the positives, Virgil decided that at least that meant he was familiar with this part. Being hungry, waking up from a cold night, sleeping on the ground. The thermal blanket might actually be an upgrade, but at least at home he didn’t have sixteen possibly armed teenagers after him. 

He heard a howling wolf followed by a cannon shot in the distance. Fifteen, he thought. At least his fears of the arena wildlife weren’t unfounded. 

It was still early, though, and the sun wasn’t quite up yet. Virgil was used to rising before dawn, but this seemed different. He felt like the sun should be up by now if his body clock was anything to go by. He supposed though if this arena was mimicking winter it would reflect that with longer nights and shorter days. 

Going now would make it easier to stay hidden from other tributes, but it also made him a sitting duck for any creature out there looking for a quick snack. 

He weighed up his options and eventually - arrow held tightly in hand and bag on his back - crept out of the cave. So long as he was quiet maybe he wouldn’t be noticed. 

There was little trouble as Virgil reached the clearing that housed the cornucopia. He felt lucky to have not come across any wild animals on his trek through the snow. Now he crouched behind a tree watching. The sky was starting to get lighter by now, and there was a fire crackling in the mouth of the cornucopia, around which five tributes sat. Two from district one, one from two, and two from four. Virgil took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, he had to think rationally about this or he’d never get anything done.

Virgil could see where all the supplies were stored - behind them inside the cornucopia. He guessed it was to protect them from the worst of the cold. There’s no way he could grab it like this with them all there, they’d see him in an instant in the black clothing they’d been given for the arena, he’d stick out like a sore thumb if he left the trees. Waiting for them to leave would be his best bet, but who knows how long that would be, and he was vulnerable here - maybe he could draw them away somehow…

“Psst-” He heard behind him, causing him to whip around, clutching his arrow in his hand he scanned the area until his eyes caught on a girl with short black hair peeking out from behind a nearby tree. Vaguely he recognised her as the girl he had hissed at on the first day - he thought she might be from Three, but he hadn’t paid enough attention to the others to know her name. She made a gesture for him to come over - Virgil just frowned and gripped his arrow tighter - he couldn’t trust anyone here. The girl frowned, holding up her hands in a surrender, before gesturing with her chin behind her. She clearly wanted to talk, but they couldn’t do it here with the careers so close by. Eventually Virgil sighed and nodded, carefully making his way over to her. He was lucky, he supposed. She could have killed him easily as she led him a little further into the trees - a safe enough distance away to talk. 

“Sorry for scaring you,” she whispered once they were far enough away.

“Sorry for hissing at you,” Virgil returned with a shrug, “You’re um - you’re from Three, right?”

“Mhm - My name’s Bug Scintilla - You’re Virgil, from Eight,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake - he did so hesitantly with a small nod, “Great - you’re looking to go after their stuff, right?”

Another nod, she smiled.

“Not the talking type?”

Virgil shrugged with a small smile, “Not really.”

“Well good, I talk a lot,” she said, “Now - guess you’re looking for food, right? That’s why I’m here too, there’s nothing good to eat in the rest of the arena unless you’re able to kill a wolf which, no offence, you look really scrawny and your only weapon is an arrow.”

He shrugged again - she was right. 

“So, d’you have a plan?”

“I was in the middle of making one,” He said, shaking his head, looking back in the direction of the clearing, she sighed. 

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” She said, beginning to draw a map of the clearing in the snow, Virgil sat down with her and looked, “Did you see where they had everything?”

“The supplies are all piled up in the cornucopia,” Virgil added, pointing to the map, she nodded, adding a cross, “So we gotta draw them away…”

For a while, they went back and forth on the best ways to do it, lighting a fire, making a lot of noise - noise might draw some of the wild animals in the arena, and if the careers were killed by them whilst looking for the source then Virgil certainly wouldn’t be too upset. 

“Are you sure you could get away, though?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Mhm - I’m good at climbing and the trees here are pretty tightly packed, I can get away that way,” She said, “You can sneak in from behind the cornucopia - they’ll leave a lookout, but you’re small and I saw how stealthy you were back in training, I think you can do it.”

Virgil nodded slowly, “Okay, right.”

“And make sure you’re fast too, we don’t know how long they’ll be distracted for and I don’t want you to get caught.”

Virgil nodded, “You know the river on the west side?” he said, she nodded, “We can meet there afterwards - I guess if we don’t make it there by sundown we can assume…”

“The cannons will tell anyway,” she shook her head, “But good plan - let's head out - we want this done before we starve, and hey - if you see anything else useful you can grab - no harm in having more, right?”

Virgil nodded yet again. There were so many things that could go wrong with this plan, neither of them were guaranteed safety or results, but he supposed they would both die either way if they didn’t try. At least if they went for it they would have some kind of chance. 

After a moment of hesitance, Bug pulled him in for a hug. Virgil had never been a touchy person, and this certainly startled him, but he still put his arms around her in return. “In case we don’t make it back,” she says, quietly, before hurrying away into the trees. 

Taking a deep breath, Virgil made his way in the other direction, keeping his fingers crossed that he wouldn’t come across any animals or other tributes as he made his way around the treeline until he was facing the back of the cornucopia. Once he had made it, he crouched in the shrubbery to wait.

The plan had gone smoothly right up until Virgil was trying to leave the cornucopia. 

He had managed to find two bags and stuff them full of food and supplies, he’d grabbed a couple of weapons, and a flask of water for them both too. He’d stolen as much as he could fit in the two bags before hefting one onto his shoulders and making his way out only to see the careers making their way back across the clearing.

Virgil panicked, snatching a knife from a nearby pile of weapons so that he had something in his hand and attempting to slip out of the cornucopia. Yelling behind him let him know that he had been unsuccessful. He ran, but they were gaining on him. The other careers had been at the other side of the clearing, but the district four guy they had left behind - a big, muscled guy who must be on the older end of the scale - was right behind him. 

Virgil turned, and in some vain hope, threw the knife. 

It landed with a dull thud in the poor guy’s abdomen, for a moment the world slowed and Virgil just stood there as the guy stopped, blood poured from around the knife, soaking into his clothes as he reached to pull it out. Virgil almost told him not to, but then he wanted this guy to die, didn’t he? Seeing the crimson splatter into the snow beneath them seemed to trip a switch in Virgil’s mind and he scrambled to keep running. He kept running even when he reached the trees, waving a path that he hoped wouldn’t be easily followed. 

Once he was sure he had lost them, he leaned over, bracing himself on a tree, and tried not to throw up when he heard the cannon shot in the distance. He had just killed someone.

He stayed there for a long while, crouched next to a tree and heaving - doing his best to keep his insides inside of him as he attempted to calm down the raging panic inside him. He counted in his head as he took deep breaths, trying to even out his intake of air and calm his mind. He had just killed another human being, if he hadn’t killed that boy then he’d be dead himself. It’s kill or be killed in this arena. Odds had nothing to do with it. 

Virgil stood, clutching the two bags he had grabbed tightly and began making his way back to the river. It didn’t make up for taking a human life, even in this situation, Virgil couldn’t justify it, but at least he had something to show for it.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 @goldnskyart (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[emotionalcadaver]

The Hunger Games AU!Tommy Shelby x Lucy Winters Headcanons

It'll be awhile until I will actually be able to write this AU down, but I need to tell you all about some of my ideas before I actually explode, so here you go. As it almost always is with me, this is long as hell because I just do not know when to shut the fuck up 😂 And this isn't even close to all of the ideas that I have for them at this point in time.

Please note I may tweak some of the lore of The Hunger Games universe here and there. And kudos to @evita-shelby who also has a fantastic list of headcanons for this AU that you should check out! There's a little overlap between mine and hers! And also a shout out to @justrainandcoffee and @call-sign-shark for putting this idea into my head in the first place!

Tommy's Games

Both Tommy and Lucy are from District 12 and have Covey ancestry. Both of their families were poor, and them and their siblings all signed up for and claimed multiple tessera.

When Tommy was 15, he volunteered to take Arthur's place when Arthur was reaped.

He was an immediate favorite, and many in the Capitol fawned over how handsome he was.

The arena he competed in was a mountain covered by a sparse forest, and containing a cave system within. All water located within the arena could be found in the caves, forcing the tributes to venture inside and brave the mutts of bats, worms, snakes, spiders, and rats down there. Every 12 hours, the water in the pools in the caves would rise, either drowning tributes who got trapped, or forcing them up closer to the surface. Tommy used the caves and his experience working in District 12's mines to his advantage.

He was caught in a cave-in at one point, but managed to dig himself out. He killed several other tributes during his games in increasingly vicious ways, which garnered him a reputation as one of the most ruthless victors.

He hated the fame that came after he won, but used the money given to him after winning to buy horses and set up a stable in the victor's village.

Lucy watched his games with great interest, and her brothers teased her for having a crush on Tommy due to how invested she was in the Games that year and in him winning.

After winning, Tommy started to slowly amass influence over those in the Capitol. As the only victor for District 12, he became a mentor. He was also prostituted out regularly by Snow to Capitol citizens.

He began working with rebellion cells, offering assistance whenever he could.

Lucy's Games

Lucy was 18 when she was reaped. It didn't come as a massive surprise, given how many times her name had been put in, but it was still a punch to the gut, since she was one year away from no longer being eligible for the games.

She met Tommy, who would serve as her mentor, officially on the train. She was wary of him at first due to his reputation for being a womanizer in the Capitol and for the viciousness that he displayed when winning his games. This wasn't helped by how cold and gruff he was towards her on their first meeting.

Despite starting off rocky, she and Tommy eventually softened towards each other. He began to realize that she actually had a chance of winning, and she was grateful to the advice he gave her and the moments of kindness and comfort he offered.

Her weapon of choice in the arena were throwing knives, which she was deadly accurate with. Her strategy was to remain uninteresting and non-threatening to the other tributes.

On the night before the games, she had a panic attack and Tommy stayed up with her for most of the night, working to calm her down, and promised that he wouldn't let her die.

The arena she competed in was a dark, maze-like cave system. The mutts featured in the arena were giant, bat-like creatures (think like the monsters in The Descent) that were blind but had highly sensitive hearing.

Tommy had himself a quiet little freak-out when he saw the arena they put Lucy in, since it brought back memories of his own games. He still suspects that the uncanny similarities might've been Snow trying to fuck with him for some reason. It did have it's advantages though, since it made lots of the advice he'd given her for surviving extra useful.

Tommy worked night and day to get her sponsorships.

Lucy survived, but barely, and suffered severe scarring on her body from being nearly mauled by a mutt.

Post-Games

Lucy self-isolated significantly the first year after winning her games. Outside of one of her brothers, Teddy, her family didn't offer much support. Tommy took it upon himself to regularly check in and look after her.

They soon developed a habit of sleeping in the same bed together to help with the nightmares they both suffered. They bonded strongly over their similar traumas and their shared love of horses.

Lucy also became a mentor.

When they first started having sex, it was mainly for comfort and connection, since both were big in denial about their building feelings for one another.

Tommy made a deal with Snow to keep Lucy from being made a part of the sex trafficking of victors.

Even after admitting their feelings to each other, they were unable to be publicly together, as Snow did not want Tommy's desirability to potential buyers to decline.

Lucy was aware of the prostitution Snow put Tommy through, and while it horrified and enraged her, she never held it against Tommy, and always did her best to reassure him whenever he expressed guilt towards her over it.

Lucy's youngest brother, William, was reaped a few years after she won. She suspected this to be purposeful, and a retaliation for some of her more rebellious actions towards Snow.

Despite her and Tommy doing their best to mentor him, William was killed in the arena. Lucy was heartbroken, and some members of her family blamed her for his death.

Tommy and Lucy both offered help to the growing rebellion whenever they could, and participated in the storming of the Capitol.

Both survived, and afterwards they finally were able to get married, and opened up a stable providing equestrian therapy for those suffering from PTSD from the games or the battle with the Capitol.

[trickarrows-bishop]

thinking abt the wn thg au.... beatrice sneaking cam some money or food... beatrice having to watch as camila grows up strong enough to go to the mines... but camila's so cheerful. she's so happy to be bea's friend, even with the differences between them. and it's the least beatrice can do to make sure camila never has to buy tessera, even though she did have to once or twice. augh this au.

OH MY GODDDD oh my GOD OH MY GODDD

[savannahsdeath]

TESSERA

tessera was a form of voluntary food rationing - children between the ages of 12 and 18 - those eligible to participate in the hunger games - could sign up for it. a single tessera was worth one year's supply of grain and oil for a single person, collected on a monthly basis. the child could also claim further tesserae for as many members of their family as needed. while tesserae was vital to many families in the districts, it came at a heavy price: in exchange for this extra food, the child's name would be added to the reaping balls an additional time for every tessera claimed that year.

this is for my abby x reader thg au fic ; ignore if not interested

[thatshadowhunterlife]

Pressure Makes Diamonds (THG AU)

Summary: Winning isn't everything. It's just the only thing that matters when you have people waiting for you at home. Chrysanthemum Everdeen is the oldest of the Everdeen siblings. Her whole life is based on the survival of her and her family. When it's time for the annual Hunger Games to take place, she can't even imagine her name getting picked even with the odds stacked against her. When she is called to enter the deadly games she feels her whole world shift. Winning would mean everything to her family but her odds aren't the best. If she is to win, she has to make difficult decisions about survival, family, and love.

OR an AU where Katniss has an older sister that participated in the 70th Annual Hunger Games.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56708572/chapters/144564574

─────── ─ ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚─ ───────

Chapter Two

One time, Katniss and I were playing tag in the woods. While I was running away from her, I tripped over a tree root and broke my arm. It hurt so bad I almost blacked out from pain. Katniss cried the whole way home about it because she felt like it was her fault. I cried because I was in pain and I couldn't hunt until it was fixed. That in turn made Prim cry about it because she doesn’t like seeing us cry. My father scolded us all while my mother fixed me up a cast. Ashton and Gale were even really nice and brought over some strawberries to make me feel better. Katniss and my father went hunting to raise enough money for us to afford some of the fancier pain medicine for me. At the time, I thought that was the worst pain I had ever felt though. I never thought anything would ever come close. 

This is a million times worse than that pain. 

It’s like I could feel my heart collapse in my chest. All I felt was fear. The fear of leaving my family to fend for themselves. The fear of my sister being the sole provider for my family. The thought of Katniss having to take out tesserae because I’m not there makes me want to throw up even more.

My mother will completely fall apart. She’s barely together as it is. There is no way that she can take care of my sisters. My mind keeps racing in a million different directions. But they all lead to the same conclusion. My family is now in trouble because I am going to die.

I don’t remember falling, but the kid next to me grabbed me to keep me from hitting the ground. 

I look up and all I see is big brown eyes staring back into me. Effie’s voice rings through the speakers calling my name again. My legs move as if they have a mind of their own. They carry me towards the stage. 

“Chrissy!” 

I turn around and see Katniss running towards me. Ashton starts running right towards her and picked her up before she could get to me. She starts kicking and screaming for him to let her down. She’s sobbing harder than I’ve ever seen her cry before. “You can’t go! No!” She screams. Ashton covers her mouth to keep her quiet. 

“Go ahead Chrissy…” He says. You could hear in his voice how hard he was fighting back tears of his own. I nod silently and head up the stairs onto the stage. The crowd mumbles unhappily. 

From the stage I could see my mother crying and being comforted by some women she must’ve known from years ago. Primrose is holding her hand and just looking right at me. 

“Oh finally, she is here!” Effie says cheerfully, “now onto the boys!” She struts over to the boys bowl and grabs a name quickly. Way quicker than she did the girls that’s for sure. She opens her mouth to read the name but is interrupted by a loud thud. The whole crowd looks in the direction of the sound. Our district’s only living victor, Haymitch Abernathy, is face down on the ground. The Mayor looks incredibly embarrassed but tries to help him up. Once he is back on his feet, Haymitch throws up all over Mayor Undersee. The smell of vile quickly fills the area.

“Oh dear! How revolting !” Effie exclaims. She turns her nose and tries to get everyone back on track so that the janitors could clean up the mess quickly. Haymitch could barely stand at this point. Mayor Undersee is given some napkins to help clean up some of the vomit off of him. But man if looks could kill, Haymitch would be dead where he stood. “Let’s wrap this up, shall we? For our male tribute, the honor has been given to Sage Emrys!”

That name sounds vaguely familiar. Like he might’ve been in one of my classes at one point or maybe someone said his name in the hallways. The person who comes up the stairs, is the same one that kept me from falling on my rear. His long, shaggy blond hair is unkempt. His brown eyes were full of fear but his face showed none of that. He’s tall and lanky but didn’t look as underfed as those of us from the Seam. His parents are definitely more wealthy than mine. Maybe my mom knows them.

Sage Emrys stands on the other side of Effie as far away from the vomit as he could get. Effie puts on a big smile and announces us as District 12’s tributes. The entire crowd stays silent. They are not happy about this. I’m not sure which person getting reaped made them upset. Maybe it was both of us. While I doubt many people will miss me, at least I can feel like my presence was once acknowledged. Whether it be from the people at school or the people in the Hob, they will all remember that I was here.

The Mayor returns to the podium and begins to read the Treaty of Treason but no one is really listening. It’s the same speech every year so everyone could care less. I’m more focused on not losing my mind completely in front of all these cameras. I try to not look at my sisters, mother, or Ashton. I see Gale in the crowd for a split second and feel the tears well up. I know Ashton promised to take care of my family but his own family is hard enough to care for. My family has just lost my father and now I will die too. This will be traumatizing for Katniss and Prim. Maybe even Ashton.

After the reading of the Treaty of Treason, Sage and I face the crowd as the Panem anthem plays again. At this point, even the people that bet on the tributes had stopped. All eyes were on the two of us. I’ve never felt more self-conscious than I did at this moment. When the anthem finished, we were escorted off the stage by Peacekeepers. That in itself is pretty scary. Peacekeepers only escort criminals and dead bodies places so I wonder why they are escorting us. Maybe some tributes have tried to run away before. The Peacekeepers barge through the doors of the Justice Building while the cameras follow. 

The Peacekeepers take me into an empty room and leave me by myself. I’ve never been inside of a room so fancy looking. The carpet looked as if it had never been touched by shoes. The velvet couches look almost inviting. I only recognized the material because my mother had a dress with a collar made out of that stuff. I sit down on the couch and just stare at the wall. I’m trying to focus on anything other than the next hour. This will be the time that my family and friends are allowed to say goodbye to me. I don’t know if I will be able to keep myself together for this. I know I can’t leave here with puffy eyes and a running nose, but the thought of a final goodbye to my family is beginning to feel very overwhelming. 

It felt like I was sitting there forever before the door finally swings open. Both of my sisters rush towards me and tackle me with hugs. I hug them tighter than I ever had before. This could be my last moments with them and I need to make them count. When I could finally get a good look at their faces, I could see that Katniss’ eyes were puffy and red from crying. “Chrissy you better win!” she says into my chest. 

I run my fingers through her hair and give her a soft smile. “Of course I’ll try to win. I want to come home to you guys,” I say.

“No! You have to come home! You know how to fight Chrissy. I watched you beat up Liam that one time because he called me ugly! You can come home,” she says seriously. 

I can’t make her any promises. There will be a lot of competition. Certain districts train their whole lives for this. I’m just some kid from the Seam that happens to know how to hunt animals for food. Animals are not humans. Killing someone is something completely different than throwing a few punches. It isn’t for food or to protect my sister. It’s for someone else’s entertainment. I’m not cut out to win the Hunger Games.

However, instead of telling Katniss what I was actually thinking, I just smile and nod. “I will win. Just for you,” I say softly.

I turn to my mother, and my expression hardens. “You can’t leave them. You have to be there for them. It doesn’t matter how you feel right now, they need you more than anything. Do you understand me?” I say. 

“Yes,” She says. I could tell she was holding back tears. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly. This might really be the last time I get to hold my mother. By the way she is holding me,  she must be feeling the same way. 

“I love you,” I say. I haven’t said that to my mother since my father died. Tears well in her eyes and she hugs me tighter. 

“I love you more,” She whispers in my ear. Even now that’s the most sound she is able to muster. It’s still so comforting to hear though.  I feel her slip something into my pocket. When we break away from the hug, I reach into my pocket and look at the small object. It is a gold ring with a small diamond; this is my mother’s wedding ring. “The tributes are allowed a single token from your district. I just thought it would always remind you of home,” my mother says. I’m sure this was hard for her to part with. She kisses my head and pulls my sisters in for a hug. We all stay that way until the Peacekeepers make them leave. It felt like my heart left with them. It keeps getting harder and harder to fight back the tears. I try pacing around the room to see if that helps. Eventually I allow myself to let a few fall before my next guest comes, though I’m sure I know who it’s going to be.

Ashton bursts through the door and rushes towards me. He picks me up and hugs me. When he sets me down, he looks deep into my eyes. “You have to win Chrissy,” He says in a low tone.

“I don’t know if I-”

“No Chrysanthemum! You need to win! I know you can. You know how to hunt and you know how to survive. You’ve lived in this place your whole life so I know you won’t starve. You need to get your hands on some knives, Chris. You can win this. I know you can. I’ve never met someone else like you,” he says. 

All I could do was nod. I think I was more in shock that he called me by my name. He never calls me Chrysanthemum. He has so much faith in the fact that I’m going to come home. Maybe even for a second I can believe it too. 

“I’ll try my hardest to come home to you guys,” I say.

“Chrissy, I need you to come home,” He chokes out. The tears he had been trying so hard to keep in have finally started to surface. I’ve never seen Ashton cry before. Not even when his father died. He was always the strongest person in the room.

I do the only thing I could think to do in this situation. As stupid as it might be, I hold out my pinky. “I’ll come home. I pinky promise,” I say. He lets out a small laugh through the tears and embraces me in a tight hug. He smells like the woods still. Like home. 

We stay that way until he has to go. I look at a clock on the wall and I can see that my hour is up. Two Peacekeepers come inside to escort me to the train station. I’ve never been before because its only really used for the Games and exporting coal. It looks less decrepit than the rest of the district though.  I should have expected the hoard of cameras and reporters from the Capitol. Bright lights keep flashing in my face while people keep calling my name and asking me questions. The sound of clicking starts to give me a headache. I just try not to look at any of them to at least seem unfazed by everything that has happened today. Maybe acting tough will improve my chances at survival. I don’t look at a single camera or answer a single question. I act as if they are undeserving of my time. 

Sage Emrys on the other hand is smiling at all the cameras and waving. He hardly seems bothered at all. His hair looks a bit neater now, I’m sure his mother might’ve touched it up. People in the merchants area care about appearances like that. I bet the people in the Capitol will call him brave for not even crying. I just think he is being stupid. 

The inside of the train is fancier than I could have ever imagined. It’s like something we only read about in school. The floors are adorned with royal purple rugs and white flowers. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling tops. Burgundy velvet chairs sat at a deep reddish brown wooden table. I think it might’ve been mahogany. The walls are a deep, navy blue.

“Wow they really put down money on us,” I hear from behind me. 

I roll my eyes hard at Sage. “It’s all a waste since we’re gonna die anyways,” I say. A tall woman with pale skin and dark brown hair escorts us to our rooms. She never spoke to us which I thought was kind of rude, but what can you expect from Capitol people? 

My room is just as lavish as the rest of the train. I can’t stop myself from investigating every single door. The closet has a few dresses in there already. I guess for me to wear on my way to the Capitol so I look more presentable. Though I still think my mother’s dress was nicer. Or maybe I just miss them already. Another door leads to a gold and white bathroom. Maybe I’ll bathe in a few minutes. The bed is bigger than any other I’ve ever seen. The silky gold sheets looked alive with the sunlight from the window. Gold chairs matched the bedset. My goodness did they look comfy. Primrose would love them. The walls were the color of the trees in the Meadow. The Meadow . It hurts my heart to even think about. I can still hear Ashton laughing and Katniss and Gale bickering. I still smell the fresh scent of earth after it just rained. The wild berries. The flowers. All the herbs I would bring home. I can see Katniss and Prim’s beautiful eyes that lit up whenever I came home. 

Realistically, I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about home. I’ll have even less of a chance at winning if all I do is miss my family. I lay in the bed and let out a small, humorless laugh. What am I thinking? It doesn’t matter what I do now. I’ll still be delivered in a wooden box back to District 12. I suppose it’s nice that I get to enjoy this soft bed first. The bed smells like the fresh cut flowers you only find in the wealthier areas of my district. Ashton got me some for my birthday one year. They were roses I think.

Apparently I fell asleep because I woke up to Effie knocking at my door. “Ten minutes until dinner!” she says in her stupid accent. I sigh heavily and walk into the bathroom. I’ll be honest it took me a few minutes to figure out how to get the water working. When I got it though, hot water rained from above me. While it felt really good, I figure I shouldn’t be late to dinner. I lather myself in a sweet smelling soap, wash off, and head back into the room. I pick out a dark green dress that I thought matched the rest of the room in a way. I left my own clothes on the bed.

The dining table was filled with more food than I had ever seen in my life. Golden brown rolls, three different meats dripping in sauces, vegetables that I’ve only seen in books, and grains that were so much better looking than tesserae ones. My mouth instantly begins to water while my stomach betrays me with loud growls. Effie sat down at the head of the table. How fitting for Capitol trash. “Haymitch won’t be joining us tonight. He’ll more than likely be passed out until tomorrow,” she says. There is a hint of disgust in her voice that almost makes me laugh. I sit down at the table and the silent woman from earlier begins to serve my food. 

Sage comes in a few minutes later wearing a light blue t-shirt and black pants. His wet hair falls just under his shoulders. He sits across from me and stares at all the food. Another woman, who was also silent, serves his food. 

“Thank you,” he says politely. 

Effie looks appalled. “You shouldn’t talk to them,” she says. I couldn’t help but wonder why but I don’t think it’s a good time to ask. I begin to eat but it’s so hard to pace myself when all the food is so delicious. I remind myself to mind my manners. My mother raised me better. I look over at Sage who seems like he was also trying to not seem sloppy. “You two have better manners than the last two,” Effie says.

“And you’re as much of an airhead as I thought,” I say. Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to. Sage snickers across the table and Effie glares at me but doesn’t speak.

“No need to be so mean sweetheart,” Sage says, “Effie doesn’t know any better.”

I roll my eyes hard. “I’m not your sweetheart,” I snap. 

“Now now. Thats no way to talk to the person who kept you from falling on your ass on national television,” he says

Effie clears her throat. Her plate was only half eaten. I hear Capitol people like to eat less to stay skinny. Never made any sense to me as someone who had sleep for dinner on many nights. I pile more food onto my plate. I may not be able to beat the other tributes but at least I can last longer if I get more meat on my bones.

I think Sage was on his third plate. I guess he has the same idea as I do. He is definitely a healthier weight than me because he had more money, but we are both way smaller than we should be. The Careers would look at us and laugh. Career Tributes are tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4. Sometimes they bring in people from other districts into their group if they like them enough to save them for later. What an honor right? They almost always win the Games because they train their whole lives for it. They are typically better fed and stronger, however, they are also very arrogant. Maybe I’ll be lucky and that’ll be someone’s downfall? Doubt it though. This isn’t a fairytale.

After we eat, we watch the recording of the Reaping on the television. Effie says it’s best to scope out the competition but I think she just wanted to watch it and needed an excuse. Sage and I sit on opposite sides of the couch. We watch as each name is pulled. In the Career districts, they make the Reaping so complicated. They actually fight over who gets to go into the arena. Arguing who gets to kill other kids their age. The female tribute from District 1 looks like she could easily snap me in half. Don’t even get me started on the male from District 2. He almost looked excited to kill someone. I can’t stop myself from shuddering at the thought of his face being the last one I see. Oh God why did I ever promise them I would come home? 

I barely register most of the names as they pass me by but I did catch a few. I know the male from District 1’s name is Valor. The female is Jewel I think. District 3’s tributes were Techna and Acer. Barley and Maize are the boy and girl from 9. The youngest in the arena are going to be from 11. Their faces remind me so much of Katniss and Prim. Just two little kids. They couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. Clementine is the name of the girl. Her brown curls bobbed up and down as she walked to the stage. You could tell the poor thing was terrified. Tears were streaming down her face. She called for her mother. It absolutely broke my heart. Cinnamon is the little boy. He didn’t cry but he wanted to. He refused to look at the crowd. The cameras abruptly switch to our Reaping. 

Katniss made her television appearance, trying to keep me from the stage. Ashton is there too. Trying to pull her off of me. This feels like the last time I’ll see their faces. My own face looks stoic. I don’t even recognize myself up there on that stage. They cut out the part of Haymitch making a fool of himself. I’m sure Effie is happy about that part. I look over at Sage. He looks lost in thought. I gently touch his arm. I think that snapped him out of it. He looks at me for a moment then shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

Seeing the Reaping made everything feel more real than it had before. Those are the people who are going to kill me. Kids just like me being turned into murderers for the entertainment of the Capitol. Some of them are even excited about it. Silence hangs uncomfortably in the air for what feels like hours. Though I’m sure it was just a minute or so. Effie breaks awkwardness with a loud clap. “Well, I will be leaving you two now. I’m sure you two will need to be getting sleep soon,”  She says. She walks past me and heads out the room. 

“Where is Haymitch?” Sage asks. 

“Probably passed out in his room still. Effie says he won’t be up until tomorrow,” I reply. 

“We should check on him,” Sage says. 

“Trying to get on his good side, Emrys?”

“Well he is the one that’s gonna be keeping us alive,” he reminds me. 

That shut me up real quick. He’s one hundred percent right. I let out a frustrated groan and start walking towards where I assume Haymitch’s room is. Sage follows quickly behind me.  Honestly, the smell of vomit hit me before anything else so it wasn’t hard to tell which room it was. I feel terrible for the people that have to clean that up. Sage knocks on the door first. There was no answer so I called out his name. Again, no answer. 

“Has a mentor ever died before the Games?” Sage asks.

“I don’t think so. But ours better still be breathing because he’s the only one we have,” I say. Trust me, if the other victor was still alive, I think we would all be happier. I turn the knob and the smell hit me like a truck. Haymitch is sprawled across the floor in a puddle of his own vomit and a liquor bottle in his hand. I’m staring at my only hope at life. This is more depressing than going to bed hungry.  

“Look, I’m not really doing this to get on his good side. I don’t even think he has one. I just feel bad for the guy,” Sage says holding his nose, “I got it. Just go to bed. At least leave him the dignity of not letting a random girl see him naked.”

I think for a moment about what Sage’s intentions could really be. But eventually I relent. I really didn’t want to clean this grown man up. Even the thought, mixed with the overwhelming stench, made my stomach feel funny.

“Alright. Good night then. See you tomorrow morning,” I say as I leave. 

I make my way back to my room. It’s such a shame that this is the first time I’ve ever had a room this nice and I can’t fully enjoy it. I hate it. The room itself feels like a beautiful prison. A cruel joke.I sink into the bed the same way my heart has been sinking into my chest. I roll over and grab my mother’s ring from my dress pocket. I stare at it in silence. Katniss and Prim are probably asleep by now. Well maybe not Katniss. She is probably awake with my mother. They might be trying to figure out the next few weeks and how they will survive. I doubt Ashton is getting any sleep either. He probably walked to my house to comfort Katniss and my mother. Maybe they are all sitting by the fire, longing for me the way I do for them. 

The bed is so warm. The sweet smell of flowers fills my nose as I bury my head in the pillows. I begin to fall asleep to the quiet hum of the train. 

[curseplay]

paris + lauren and andie (@silkplay) n hunger games au info under the cut...

paris harrow tribute from: district 10 - livestock winner of: 69th annual hunger games weapons of choice: strength, machete wins by: hiding and managing to tame and turn a series of dog muttations against the remaining tributes backstory: daughter of two cattle farmers who supplied the capitol with a fair share of their chicken and beef. a hard worker used to slaughtering the animals for the family business. loses their brother, tommy, as he’s killed in the 66th games— one of the last few tributes who dies protecting the young female tribute from 10 that came with him. ever unlucky, she is reaped herself two years later and goes through a shocking transformation from an antisocial, grief ridden young woman to a charismatic, showstopping performer with help from her stylists and mentors. scores a 6 on individual assessment and makes no alliances with other tributes. goes on to be prostituted and mentor future tributes after winning, eventually learning that her father forged tesserae documents in tommy’s name to achieve wealth.

lauren watts tribute from: district 1 - luxury winner of: 67th annual hunger games weapons of choice: scalpel chain, sickle wins by: ruthlessly slaughtering her career alliance members after they plan to pick her off once the regular tributes are dead backstory: a true career tribute. born to two washed up victors still suffering from the traumas of their own games. after her father has an affair with a capitol woman and moves there, she’s left alone with her mother in the victor’s village. raises herself in preparation for the games, attending a prestigious academy in which she ranks second to top of her class and volunteers at the reaping, aged 17. charms the capitol with her wits and scares the tributes with her cunning. scores a 9 during individual assessment and goes into the game with her alliances fully planned out and no real intention to keep them. after winning, is prostituted by the capitol and goes on to mentor future tributes. begins a tumultuous on again, off again romance with fellow victor andie king.

andie king tribute from: district 5 - power/electricity winner of: 68th annual hunger games weapon of choice: blowgun, nets/traps wins by: incapacitating tributes so they can be found and killed by other tributes backstory: part of a large family from district 5, all of whom work at the hydroelectric dam. after their aunt is killed in an accident there on the job, andie's three cousins move in with them, making them a pseudo-older sibling and forced breadwinner. they leave school to work alongside their parents. lives in constant fear of themselves or one of their younger cousins being reaped, only to be chosen on their 18th birthday. lauded by their mentors for their many skills and deep intelligence, these are the angles played up to promote andie to the capitol. they manage to garner an impressive 7 for a non-fighter in individual assessment and ally themselves with younger tributes from 8 and 9 who are killed off quickly. after winning, is prostituted by the capitol and goes on to mentor future tributes. begins a tumultuous on again, off again romance with fellow victor lauren watts.