#the only time i came close to crying was at the end of reading mockingjay when we found out annie had a baby

[trannydean]

bro my parents hyped up how dark the hunger games was for five years and when i finally got to read em, it wasn't nearly as dark as i was expecting. yes i did read them all and i cannot ignore the awful things that happened in them. but they made it sound like it would be so much worse than i ended up perceiving it, it was ridiculous

[everlarkficexchange]

The Hope that gave me hope

Written by: @ameliaodair​

Prompt 156 - Toastbaby’s perspective from the womb throughout pregnancy. Bonus points from post-birth moments. [submitted by @lovely-to the-bone/ @peetamewllark​ ]

Thank you @lovely-tothe-bone for this amazing prompt!

Word Count: 5137

Rated: K-T

Unbeta’d, edited by me

SPOILER ALERT: Anyone reading my stories, “Changing the Game” or “Another Way Out” this story DOES contain spoilers for events yet to come.

Okay, so I tweaked this prompt just a little… Instead of post MJ, this story will coincide with my Hunger Games rewrite (Changing the Game, Another Way Out, and TBA) Toastbaby’s perspective from inside the womb as Katniss goes through the arena and her time in 13.  I hope you guys like it and if you are interested in some of the things “Little One” hears/experiences, then you should check out my stories.  You can find them on A03 and FFN.

***I tried to stay true to the facts of a fetus growing (what they are doing and when) in utero, but some things may have been adjusted***

Also, as I was writing this story, a memory resurfaced from when my kids were little, and I would take them to Temple on Friday nights for Tot Shabbat.  Before I give you my story, here is a little background on Leilah, the Angel of Conception.

You know that little indentation above your lips, and (under your nose? Okay, well, keep that in mind) So, the story goes that the Angel Leilah chooses which souls inhabit which seeds and accompanies them in the womb, teaching them all the knowledge of the Torah (Hebrew Bible, ((I think)).  So, while the “baby” is in the womb, it has all the knowledge and answers in the world and when you are born, your lungs fill with air, which results in crying and Leilah tells the baby to “Ssshhh” and presses her finger to their lips, which is what causes that little indentation and thus, wiping their memory…and they have to learn everything all over again.  (At least that’s how I think it goes) Anyway, I really wanted to incorporate that story into this one, so here goes.

The Hope that gave me hope

“Listen closely child, your next journey will not be an easy one.  The world has taken a turn for the worst; war and famine has devastated much of what remains, ruled by a callous tyrant.  However, you will be conceived to a pair of great importance.  Together, they will change the world for the better, but not before enduring many hardships.  There will be pain, heartache, and deep suffering, but the end result will be well worth the struggle.”

Little One, squirmed in place as the Creator described her next assignment.

“A-are you certain they are the right ones for me?” Little One asked the Creator uncertainly, although she knew the answer.

“I am certain, Child,” his voice boomed, “Do you doubt me?  Have I ever led you astray?”

“No Sir,” Little One faltered.

“Have faith, Child,” the Creator continued, his voice much softer.  “Now go on.  Off you go.”

“But … I am frightened Sir,” Little One stumbled, shrinking back with her fear.

“What is there to be frightened of, my Child?”

“I do not enjoy the solitude, perhaps you could accompany me on my journey?”

The Creator laughed at Little One, his voice rattling the ground, “You will not be alone Child, Leilah will be with you the entire way.  She will not leave your side in the womb, not for a single moment.  She will spend her time teaching you all the knowledge of the world—”

“So that I may share it with my … what are they called again— parents?”

The Creator shook the earth again with his laughter, “Yes, they are called parents.  And no, you may not share it with them.  Leilah will be waiting for you on the outside just before your entrance into the world and the moment your lungs fill with air, your consciousness of her given knowledge will be erased.  You must rely on your parents for wisdom and guidance.”

“But Sir— what is the point?” Little One asked, her face contorting into a confused expression.

“No more questions, Little One, it is time for you to descend.  Time is of the essence; Leilah has chosen the perfect … ah … specimen for you to inhabit, but like I said, time is of the essence.”

“I have one more question Sir, if I may.”

“Yes Child?”

“What will be the names of my … parents?” Little One asked.

The Creator chuckled at her question, “Katniss and Peeta,” he said, patting her on the head just before he sent her on her way.

Gestation Period: Weeks 1-4

‘It’s dark.  But I’m warm.  I’m comfortable.  I think I like it in here.’  Little One thought to herself as she burrowed herself deep inside her mother’s womb, her cells multiplying at the perfect rate.

Gestation Period: Week 6-8

Although her ears are not developed just yet and she cannot hear a thing, Little One can sense that her mother is distraught and plagued with sadness.  ‘Why are you sad, Mother?’  Little One pondered.

“It is okay Little One, your mother is just frightened.  She and your father just became aware of your existence and face many challenges ahead,” Leilah’s voice bounced against the walls of Little One’s new home.

‘Oh,’ Little One thought to herself. ‘Do … do they not want me; will I make it to my day of birth?’ Little One communicated, fearful of Leilah’s answer.  Little One knew that sometimes certain essences were not compatible with certain pairings and their journeys came to an end before it even had the chance to begin. Little One hoped this was not the case for herself.

“No dear, it is not that.  They are frightened because the world they live in is a harsh and cruel world.  They never desired to have children of their own— they did not wish their circumstances onto another.  But Little One, they already love you dearly, so do not fret.  Everything will work out as it was meant to.”  Leilah soothed Little One and began her teachings of the world.

Gestation Period: Week 12-16

‘What was that?’ Little One interrupted Leilah during a particularly boring story.

“Do not be frightened Little One, you are just sensing the vibration of excitement surrounding your mother.“

‘What are they excited about— is their excitement geared toward me?  And … and why do I sense discomfort in Mother?’ Little One was enigmatically in tune with her mother’s feelings and emotions, even from this early in her life.

“That is not for you to worry yourself over.  Soon, within the next few weeks your ears will become more developed, and you will be able to hear so much more.”

‘But … how do I hear you if I cannot hear?’ Little One asked, plagued with confusion.

Little One continued to ask question after question, so curious she was.  And the kind, patient Angel that Leilah was did her best to answer them all— to the best of her ability.

‘Why do I bounce up and down?’ Little One asked several days later.

“Those are called hiccups,” Leilah informed her.

‘Well, I do not like them,’ Little One retorted with a scowl.  Though she did not know it, it very much resembled her mother’s signature expression.

Leilah chuckled, “No, not many people do.”  Leilah smirked and continued her teachings of the world with Little One as she tried to mask her concern over the voices she heard.

“Oh, Katniss darling; we have missed you so much!” Someone on the outside crooned.  Leilah feared the worst from the shrill voices shrieking on the outside.  Those voices only meant one thing; Katniss, and most likely Peeta had returned to the Capitol, which meant they were headed back into the Games.  It was just as the Creator predicted and she worried for Little One’s life.

“Oh Katniss, Peeta, we’re so-so, sorry!” The voices on the outside hiccupped as they sobbed.

“It’s a … you’re a … a bird, it’s a—” a loud voice boomed, which caused Little One to bounce from side to side.

“A mockingjay,” Leilah heard Katniss confirm to the loud voice.

‘What is a mockingjay?’ Little one piped up from her slumber.

Gestation Period: 18 Weeks

“Hey there little nut—”

‘EEK!’ Little One internally gasped.  ‘What was that, OH! I am frightened!’ Little One called out in fear.

“Do not be alarmed Little One, it’s just your ears that are working.  It is your father’s voice that you hear.  Listen … he is speaking to you.” Leilah spoke softly, encouraging Little One to listen.

Little One sat as still as she could and listened intently as the deep melodic voice of her father reverberated off the walls of her perfect home.

“I’m going to call you Little Nut since we don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl, I hope that’s okay.  This is your father; my name is Peeta.”

‘Peeta,’ Little One tried the name in her head and smiled, deciding that she liked the way it sounded. ‘Yes, it is okay for you to call me “Little Nut”,’ Little One longed to tell her father.  She extended her arm up and waved her hand, wishing her father could see her new trick.

“Listen Nut, I’m not sure how we’re going to make it out of the arena, but I am going to do everything in my power to get you and your mom out of there.  I … I don’t know if I’ll ever get to meet you, but I just want you to know that … somehow, I WILL keep the two of you safe.  And … I just want you to know how much I love you and that you are so loved.  But don’t you worry, you will have so many people to love you and take care of you and … I just don’t want you to ever doubt my love for you.  You will have your mommy, and yes, she is scared right now, but she will be the best mommy you could ever ask for; ever hope for.  She is the strongest, bravest person I know, and she will teach you so much.  When you get bigger, she’ll teach you how to use a bow and arrow, and … and if you ever do something that upsets her, just bring her some cheese buns.  Your Grandpa Bing can teach you how to make them, or your Uncle Rye.  Cheese buns are her favorite; she won’t be able to stay mad at you for long if you bring her cheese buns.  Oh!  In case you were wondering, Bing is my dad, and Rye is my brother.”

‘Cheese buns, gee, I hope I will remember that.’ Little One knew she wouldn’t, but she continued to sit in silence, soaking up her father’s every word and finding solace in his soothing voice.

“Then there is your Aunt Prim.  That’s your mom’s sister.  Oh, she’s going to fall in love with you the moment she sees you.  Well, actually, she is probably already in love with you.  She is probably really mad at me though.  Well, me and your mom.  You see, I did something.  When we went on stage for our interviews with Caesar, I um … I told the world about you.  I hadn’t planned on doing it; it kind of just … came out.  So, everyone back at home is probably a little shocked right now, and they probably aren’t sure if I was telling the truth.  But your Aunt Prim, and your Grandma Lilly, they are healers, and I am almost certain that after my shocking announcement they’re putting the pieces together and they know you’re real.”

‘What is Father talking about?  I am so confused.  What is ‘interview’ and ‘Caesar’ and ‘arena’?  I just like the sound of Father’s voice, so I don’t really care right now. Please Father, please talk some more,’ Little One wanted to tell him.

“Oh, Little Nut, I don’t want to leave you, I really don’t.  I want to watch you grow, I want to meet you and know you.  It hurts so much thinking I will never get the chance to be your dad.  I want nothing more in this screwed up world than to hold you, hug you and kiss you— to rock you.  And … and when you get older, I would teach you how to paint—”

‘Yes, I think I would like that, too.’ Little One agreed with Peeta.

“But … things aren’t looking so good for me, so … I don’t even know if you can hear me, but, oh, I … I just love you so much, okay?”

Little One heard sniffles and she recalled her lesson with Leilah on emotions and crying.

‘Please Father, do not be sad.  We will see each other soon, I promise,’ Little One so badly wanted to comfort her father.

Gestation Period: 18 Weeks and 4 Days

‘Why do I find comfort in this?’ Little One asked Leilah as she placed her thumb into her mouth and began sucking.

“It has to do—” Leilah was interrupted by Peeta’s voice once again as he spoke to his daughter.

“Hello again Little Nut, it’s me, your dad.”

‘T-that’s my father!’ Little One began bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I just … I just wanted to tell you I love you just in case this is the end.  You stay in there and you stay strong for your mama.  I hope … I hope I will get the chance to meet you, but if not, just know how much I love you Little Nut, okay?”

Little One felt something pressing against her, causing her to shift to the other side of the cozy womb.  Then, she heard her father’s voice once more, but this time it was further away, “I’ll see you at midnight.  Everything will go as planned, just like we talked about, okay?”

“Okay,” although her mother’s firm voice resonated strength, from deep inside her body, Little One could feel the trembling in her voice, which was undoubtedly filled with fear.  ‘Mother does not believe his words?’ Little One intuited.

‘Father’s voice is gone, and I so want him to speak to me again; I really like his voice.’ Little One whined.

Leilah knew what was happening on the outside and she didn’t want Little One to worry.

“Pay attention to me, Little One, do not concern yourself with the outside noises.  It is time for our next lesson.” Leilah said, hoping to distract Little One from the fight going on outside.

Outside, Katniss and Johanna were running, stringing Beetee’s wire from the lightning tree to the beach, and then Johanna blindsided Katniss, knocking her out with a giant log— all to cut her tracker out.

‘I do not feel so good, I wish to take a nap,’ Little One said as a result of Katniss losing so much blood.  Leilah sang Little One a song that offered comfort and nestled the growing baby in her heart while she pleaded with the Creator to watch over them all.

For a long time, there was silence and Little One wondered what was happening.  Sometimes she could hear voices from far away and she longed to know who they were.  Who they were to her, to her mother— her father?  Are they the family her father spoke so fondly of?

And then finally, one day out of the blue she finally heard her mother’s croaky voice echo off the walls of her warm home as Little One waved a hand in front of her face.  Though she could not see it anymore because her eyelids had become fused shut, she still knew that she was doing it.

Gestation Period: 21 Weeks

“Peeta!  Where’s Peeta?  And … what about the baby?” Little One startled from a deep slumber to hear her mother shrieking, her voice tremulous with panic.

“My apologies Miss Everdeen, the fetus was unable to withstand the blast when the arena exploded.  You had a miscarriage,” an icy voice commanded the room, which resulted in Little One bobbing up and down as her mother started shaking.  Little One could hear her mother’s heart accelerating and her breathing quickening.

‘Wait, what?  No, no … do not believe them, Mother, I am still here!’ Little One tried to reach her mother— to no avail, who was crying so hard.

“No, no, no.  No, you’re wrong.  I— I would feel it if she— if the baby were gone.  Just like with Peeta, I would feel it, and I still feel her—” her mother tried to reason with the people surrounding her.

“I’m sorry Miss Everdeen—” The icy voice said, though she did not sound apologetic at all.

There was a loud bang, and then stillness.

‘I do not understand, why are they denying my existence?  I am still here, right?’ Little One reached out to Leilah for confirmation.  She was not ready for her journey to be at its end.

“Yes darling, you are still very much alive.  They are confused, that’s all.” Leilah assured Little One, though, she knew the truth.

Gestation Period: 21 Weeks and 2 Days

“Katniss, if you have any intentions on keeping your baby alive, you need to stay calm and do exactly as I say,” a soft voice, not the icy one spoke to Little One’s mother.

“W-what?”

“If you can keep a secret, so can I, but I need you to stay calm,” and then Little One heard the nice voice saying words like pressure and elevation, but all she cared about was that her mother knew she was still alive and safely inside her.  Little One was counting on her to keep them okay.

‘I do not understand, why would that voice lie to my mother?  Why would she tell her I am no longer, when I AM?’ Little One pleaded to Leilah, overcome with confusion.

“People lie my dear.  Sometimes it is to shield others from pain, but oftentimes it is for vindictive reasons— for their own selfish gain.  But do not worry yourself over this matter, we have much to cover before our time is up.”

Gestation Period: 23-26 Weeks

The next few weeks, or perhaps it’s months, it’s difficult for Little One to tell time from inside her mother, but somehow— she can feel her father’s presence, yet she does not hear his voice.

‘Where did Father go?’

“He is away for now, but do not fret Little One, he will return very soon.” Leilah assured her and began to distract her with more of life’s lessons.  For days and days, weeks even, Leilah filled their time with the teachings of the world.  Leilah knew what was going on in the ‘outside’ and she did her best to keep Little One’s mind occupied.

“That THING isn’t Peeta,” Little One heard her mother shout over and over.  And then she heard many words she did not recognize, words Leilah had never explained to her.  Hijacking, enemy, snow, weapon.

“Don’t you worry Little Nut; we’ll bring Daddy home soon.  He’s finally awake, and him and your Grandma Effie are coming home soon; well, if you can actually call this place home,” Little One was reassured by her mother’s promise— her heart accelerated at the mention of her father’s return and she stretched her leg out in excitement.

“Unh!” Katniss exclaimed, “was that you, Little Nut?” Katniss asked Little One when she felt the fluttering in her abdomen.

Little One repeated this action in response to her mother’s racing heart.

“That’s right, baby.  We’ll get daddy back really soon, I promise.  That- that thing they brought back from the Capitol is NOT daddy— I don’t care what they say.  Peeta— your dad would never hurt me, no matter what.  We’re going to rescue him— him and Effie, and they’re going to do it soon, or … or I won’t be their stupid mockingjay.”

After that conversation, Katniss spoke to Little One often, filling her in and sharing many details about the world outside.  Little One would always try to stretch an arm or a leg to tell her mother she was listening.  That she believed in her.  That she trusted her.

Gestation Period: 26 Weeks and 5 Days

“K-Katniss?” Little One’s head twitched to the side when she heard the familiar voice.

‘Is … is that—’ Little One stuttered in excitement, yet she didn’t want to get her hopes up.  It had been SO long since she last heard her father’s voice.  Granted, this voice was croaky and sounded almost nothing like him, but something deep inside her knew it was him.

“Yes, Little One, it is your father.  He has finally returned.” Leilah answered her.

Little One thought that having her father back within arm’s reach would have given her mother some relief from all the tears she succumbed to each night, but instead, she cried even more.

‘Why is Mother still so sad?’ Little One asked Leilah during another particularly boring lesson.

Leilah didn’t want to burden the child with all the pain going on outside, so she just said, “Your father is just going through some adjustments.  Do not worry, they will find their way back to each other, it will just take some time.”

Gestation Period: 27 Weeks

‘W-what was that?’ Little One asked when she heard a new sound echoing off the walls of her perfect home.

“That is your mother.  She is singing to you.” Leilah informed Little One.

‘I … I like it … it’s beautiful,’ Little One crooned, swaying to the sound of her mother’s voice.

Little One tried to stretch her leg out to reassure her mother she was here for her, but it seemed her perfect home had shrunk.  Anxiety consumed her as she wondered what would happen when she no longer fit.

“Do you remember our discussion entailing your day of birth?” Leilah hummed to Little One.  “When this home no longer suits your needs, you will be welcomed into the world.  That is when your true life shall begin.  It will be cold, bright and scary, but your parents will love, nurture, and soothe you.  They will be your new home— they will provide you with all that you need to sustain your life.  Though, it is not safe for you to enter that world until you have used up every single big of space in this home.  Do you understand?”

‘Y-yes,’ Little One apprehensively answered Leilah, recalling a lesson from some time before.  She wasn’t sure if she was going to like this ‘New Home.’  The one that she was currently in was perfect and she loved it in here.  Why did that have to change?  Why did she have to keep growing?  What if she just … stopped.  Could she choose to stay in this perfect, warm, and cozy home forever?

“Stop thinking so hard, and you know the answer to that.” Leilah interrupted Little One’s thoughts.  “Everything grows, just as everything dies.  It is the circle of life.  One day, it will be you who grows a person inside of your body and then you will understand.”

Little One giggled and thought, ‘That’s so silly!’

Gestation Period: 29 Weeks

‘Leilah,’ Little One began; it was the first time she had ever addressed Angel Leilah by her name, and it made her squirm uncomfortably.

“Yes, dear?”

‘What is the point?  Why do you teach me all the knowledge of the world before I am born, only to distinguish it from my mind at birth?  It just … it seems … pointless.’

“Yes, I can see how you would see it that way, but I promise you, my child, there is a reason.  There is a reason for everything.  Do you remember our lesson about the tangible things in the world, like ‘paper’ and ‘pencils’, and things like ‘writing’?”

‘Yes, I think so.’

“If you write your feelings down on a piece of paper and then erase it, so that it is no longer visible to the naked eye, does that mean it is gone forever?  My child, the knowledge will always be within you, and as certain things in your life come to pass, you will get a glimmer of a feeling … as if a moment is familiar.  That is how you will know the path you are on is the right path for you at that time.  Just because I erase the memories of all your knowledge, that does not mean it is gone forever.”

‘Okay,’ Little One listened intently and agreed.

Gestation Period: 32 Weeks

As her time in the womb was growing shorter and shorter, Little One grew more nervous and anxious with each day that passed.  She could still hear voices on the outside, but the rumbling and gurgling coming from inside her mother drowned most everything out.  The space in her home was getting tighter and tighter— she could barely move at this point.  The walls around her home kept squeezing her for a moment, but they would relax almost immediately.

‘I’m not sure that I like that,’ Little One frowned.

“It is just your mother’s body practicing for your birth.  It is natural.  Now, we must focus, it is almost time.”

The squeezing got worse.  Instead of squeezing her for a few seconds here and there, it lasted for minutes and minutes.  Not only did the squeezing last longer, but it became harder and tighter.

Gestation Period: 35 Weeks and 6 days

“My dear child, it is time.” Leilah announced one night.

‘But … NO!’ Little One cried.  ‘I … I still have room, it- it can’t be time yet, I’m not ready!’

“No one is ever ready for change, but I fear our time is up.  It is indeed early, quite early actually, but it will all work out as it was meant to, just as I told you many months ago.”

Little One was frightened, because her entry into the world was not happening in the exact way Leilah had described.  Instead of being squeezed down by the walls of her home, where she would be pushed down, down, and eventually squeeze through a narrow canal to enter the world, a slit of light was breaking through the walls of her home.

‘What is happening, I am scared!’

“I will meet you on the other side, sweet girl, and all will be well.” Leilah assured Little One.

The slit grew bigger and bigger and creatures that looked too foreign to be human— they had bland, grey suits on, and masks over their faces, pulled Little One out.  They stuck something up each of her nostrils and then inside of her mouth, which made Little One gasp for air.

Little One opened her eyes and for the first time, she saw Leilah.  She was beautiful and glowing— radiating a brilliant light.

“Shhh,” Leilah comforted her, pressing her finger to Little One’s lips to calm her— and then she was gone.

Little One’s lungs filled with air and she cried.  She cried and she wailed.  She shrieked and she shrilled.  She wanted to tell these strange creatures, ‘Put me back!’

She was so scared, there were so many people, none that she recognized … until him.  She didn’t recognize him, but his voice; it was her father.  Peeta.  He walked over to where she was lying and looked down at her.  The moment she met his sparkling blue eyes— she knew she was home.

Little One gasped and paused her shrill crying to stare at the  man looking down at her.

“Hello Hope, I’m your daddy,” the beautiful, familiar-feeling, blue-eyed man spoke to Little One with tears in his eyes.  “Dylan Hope Mellark— that’s your name, beautiful girl.  Dylan was your grandpa’s name— your mommy’s daddy, but we both agreed it could work whether you were a boy or a girl.  But I think we’re just going to call you Hope.  Because that’s what you are to all of us.  Welcome to the world, Hope.”

Everything was scary for Hope.  Everything was bright, cold, and unfamiliar.  There were giant creatures poking, prodding, and tossing her around.  She was afraid they would drop her.

’Where did the man go?  The “Daddy,” I want to see him again.' Hope thought to herself as she cried and cried.  Nothing was familiar and she didn’t like it.  She wanted to go back inside her perfect home where it was dark and warm— and snug.  And … and there was someone in there with her, but who was it?  She couldn’t remember.  But she did know that she didn’t like all the lights, the giant creatures and all the strange noises.

“Katniss, Katniss sweetie, wake up.  They’re bringing her back.” Hope was feeling a little better now, someone had swaddled her in warm blankets, and she almost felt like she was back inside her perfect home.  She wiggled, turning her head in the direction of the familiar voice— the one she recognized from earlier.  It was the man.  The daddy.  Someone picked her up and she felt as if she was flying in the air.  She was frightened for a moment until she realized they were giving her to the daddy.

When the daddy held her in his arms, Hope did not question if he would drop her— unlike the others, he held her gently and she felt safe.  When she opened her eyes, everything was fuzzy.  Even still, she could make out the blue of his eyes and wondered if her eyes looked like his.  She hoped so.

“Do you want to hold her?” The daddy asked.

“I-is she okay?” A softer— timid voice asked and Hope immediately recognized it as the voice— although clearer, without the whooshing and gurgling sounds from her previous home— but it was, without a doubt, the same voice she heard from deep inside her perfect home.

“She’s perfect,” the daddy beamed, his eyes sparkling with tears.  The daddy gently passed Hope to the woman, and Hope prepared herself to feel that feeling again— that flying-in-the air— afraid-to-fall, feeling, but it did not happen.  The daddy slowly and gently placed Hope in the woman’s arms and scooted into the bed next to her.  Hope squirmed and gasped, filling her lungs with air as she prepared to cry— not wanting the daddy to let her go, but then she froze when a familiar scent wafted up her nostrils.

‘Hey, I know that smell!’ Hope thought, excited from the familiarity and opened her eyes again to meet the blurry face of the owner of her perfect home.  But— like with the daddy— the moment the mommy cradled her in her arms, Hope knew she was safe in her new home.

“Hello, my beautiful girl, I’m your mama.  It’s nice to finally meet you,” the woman— “Mama” said to Hope, her chin quivering and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“She’s so beautiful,” the mama turned her head to the daddy.  The daddy leaned over and stroked Hope’s cheek with his finger.  Hope liked the way his finger felt, and she relaxed a little more.

“Yes she is— just like her mother,” the daddy gleamed with pride, staring in awe at Hope.

“I can’t believe we made this beautiful girl,” the mommy said to the daddy with more tears in her eyes.

The daddy snuggled closer to the mommy, wrapping his arm around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, but not before kissing the mommy’s cheek.  “I love you Katniss.”

Hope let out a little wail and squirmed from side to side.

“Hey, hey,” the daddy said in a soft voice, “Of course, I love you too, my sweet girl.  The Hope that gave me hope.”

The mommy lifted Hope up, so that her head rested against the mommy’s chest.  Hope could feel a soft pounding against her cheek— and it was familiar.  So familiar.

Swaddled in her warm blankets, nestled safely in her mother’s arms and her father just inches away, Hope got a glimmer of a feeling— that she was exactly where she was meant to be.  In that instant she knew, that burrowed cozily between the mama and the daddy— she was home.

[posthungergamessyndrome]

so here’s my long overdue review of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes that no one asked for. I finally read the book, well listened to the audiobook, coz i dunno how to read a book anymore. 

This book was everything I expected it to be and also not. Definitely the first two parts was easily predictable, we all kinda assumed that was the general arc that story would take. So while I found the first two parts enjoyable, learning more about the history of the games and learn more of Capitol, i wasn’t really hooked until the third part.

But let me say this first tho, Ms. Suzanne Collins, you never disappoint. Also I have questions and I hate that she wasn’t able to go on a book tour (I haven’t read her Q&A tho). 

I still have the same qualms as i did about the prequel as i did before I read it. While I get the early records of the games were shoddy, and the 10th Hunger Games was erased but for one copy hidden in some vault, that doesn’t matter, what matter is Snow knows.

So If Snow had that relationship with the Games and Lucy, the first victor of d12, a lot of the decisions he made in the trilogy made no sense.

I get it, he wanted to forget, it’s decades until Katniss came along. While there might be parallels, Lucy and Katniss are very different characters. But all I can think off is the reason he didn’t kill Katniss sooner, was it really because she would end up a martyr or rallying cry for the district, which happened anyways, or he was practically disassociating the moment Katniss was reaped?

Were Katniss and Peeta unintentionally triggers to so many of his hidden traumas that’s why he made so many misteps? Katniss singing the meadow song to Rue, triggered. Peeta mentioning the Valley song, triggered. Mockingjay, triggered. The Hanging Tree, triggered. 

Was he so busy crying in the shower that he wasn’t able to stop Seneca Crane from making bad calls during the 74th Games? Two winners from the same district, would Snow really okay’d that himself?

And also, I’ve always thought that anything he did towards Peeta was coz he wanted to hurt Katniss. But no, he wanted to hurt that boy. Peeta reminds him of his young self, at least the young person everyone saw him as, charming, smart, and loyal. And in a way, had Peeta been born in the Capitol and was among Snow’s contemporaries, Snow would have seen him as his ultimate rival. 

Coz Snow was smart and knows how to manipulate people, but Peeta does it a lot better and a lot more successfully. With Snow, it’s right in front of his face and he still misses it. Often he is so close to getting it. How could he not have thought of the star-crossed lovers angle? How??  When one Peeta Mellark thought of it?

Which idk if there’s fanfics of that yet, but I need to read them asap, Katniss and Peeta and teen Snow, make it happen.

(But I was looking at my notes and I wrote probably the reason Snow didn’t think of the star crossed lovers angle because it was about his survival not about Lucy’s. Lucy was at best, seen as his possession. Even at the moments he was honestly in love with her, he still saw her as someone belonging to him only. )

Snow had two relationships going on: with Sejanus and with Lucy. I did find his relationship with Sejanus more interesting, because I think it’s that relationship that shaped him more that his relationship with Lucy.

I did like and even at some points enjoyed their Slytherin-Hufflepuff BFFship going on, coz despite how Snow let us know what he really thinks versus what he actually says, he was drawn to protect Sejanus, even though he’s reluctant about it or insist that he was made to do it or it’s also to benefit himself.

And I’m not saying there’s queerbaiting in this book, but certain pairings in this book makes more sense to ship than Johanna and Katniss. 

With Lucy, i know many were wary or didn’t want Snow to have a relationship with her. For me i was open to it, at least intrigued to see where it will go or how will it be handled. 

Honestly while it is still better written than most YA romances, I found it very insta-love. Again, my sense of timeline in this novel might be different coz I was listening to the audiobook instead of reading it, but they fell in love pretty quick. 

While listening to the audiobook, i thought, if their  relationship is at this point it must have been weeks since the reaping and the games haven’t started yet, and then Snow says it’s just been five days. They were making out I think by day 3 or something. 

Maybe because I knew they relationship was doomed from the start and we know how Snow ends up, I was amused by certain moments in their relationship, coz all I can think about it is, oh honey no. 

but also, I am mad that Ms. Collins is capable of writing amazing fluff moments in the midst of a dystopian world, and she wastes them on Snow and Lucy? Where was all that for Katniss and Peeta? i was given crumbs in the trilogy, Snow and Lucy made out so many times, at one point I even thought they were going to sleep together, like how dare you Ms. Collins.

For the many years we debated the meaning behind The Hanging Tree, Ms Collins, said no hun, this is what the songs means, let me tell you it’s origin story. And omg Suzanne, that was fucked up. Thanks.

One of the things I was worried about for this prequel is that while it is set in the future, the messages in it will seem outdated because a lot has changed since the trilogy came out. 

But she wrote this book well before it was announced in 2019, before it was released in 2020, but she still made it very relevant for today and I think the messaging of this prequel would be more resonant in the future, like the trilogy is.

She touched upon how we really value children, and that immediately reminded me of school mass shootings and how we haven’t done anything about it. She lives in Sandy Hook when the shooting happened so this makes sense she makes a statement about it. And now we are sending kids to school in a middle of a pandemic for political reasons not because we are concerned about their education. 

And there’s also mentions of a pandemic in a middle of a war,  let’s say it was a whole mental experience alternating between listening to the audiobook and watching the news on January 6. 

I also loved the lines: “why do people think the only thing they need for a revolution is anger?” and “we pour money into industries not people.”

While it’s almost unbelievable that the modern hunger games was merely a student group project by a bunch of privileged rich kids and one person who thinks slavery is okay ended up writing the whole thing anyways, that’s basically how this country and our system of governance was founded. 

Dr. Gaul is also every Security and Development professor I had in grad school who teaches that war never ends and it’s not about winning it’s about control to a class of future leaders at the state department, white house, and pentagon. i mean, it’s the cornerstone of US foreign policy since end of WW2.

While also listening to this book, I am dead sure that Suzanne could write a different version of Catching Fire where Katniss and Peeta were mentors and they uncover the hidden 10 hunger games tape, and it still will be a be hella of a story.

It also makes sense that the two characters that could possibly tell us or Katniss the connection of Snow to Lucy were the ones who can’t talk: Mags and Tigris. 

obviously lucy ended up in 13, possibly related to Alma Coin coz where else will she get that personal hatred against Snow? 

Snow could have at least picked Clemensia or Lys, but Livia? i guess make sense since her offspring ended up being Plutarch’s assistant. 

I feel like if i read the prequel before the trilogy, it would be a different reading experience. But at the same time, Snow, while he had his moments, is an unlikeable character even as an anti-hero, and his moral stand point is something i dont agree with, coz you know, he’s basically a republican. it’s like reading a book about a young Mitch McConnell, doesn’t matter if the system hurt him sometimes, as long as it hurts others more and keeps him in control, and i gag. I don’t think i would finish reading the prequel if i started with it instead of the trilogy. 

but it does solidifies my theory that Snow’s evil is not because he is out of touch with the rest of panem, he knows suffering that’s why he knows how to exploit it. He is not oblivious to the problems, but he arrived at different conclusions or convictions, because again he supports the system that controls his enemies, even if the system is cruel to him too. Again, a Republican. Don’t be one, don’t date one. 

I do wonder tho if he made good with champagne tuesdays when he became president. 

I don’t see how this prequel works as a movie adaptation tho, even if turned into three parts. It makes more sense for it to be a series, so if lionsgate hasn’t declared bankruptcy before they can adapt this into screen, maybe with the state of movies right now due to the pandemic, they will be more convinced to make this into a series for Netflix or to launch their own streaming service.    

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Cracked

(Hayffie ❤️. After rereading the first half of Mockingjay, I recognize book-Haymitch in 13 as the saddest, most tragic muffin in this or any universe, and he needs so much more of Effie there than the three District 13 fics I wrote in the summer. So here’s another one for my sweethearts.)

“People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end this hunger for justice!” Plutarch had been the one to compose the line on the card in Effie’s hands. Less than a year before, she’d held other cards, on which she’d inserted Capitol propaganda into the children’s Victory Tour speeches. That kind of writing was within her skill set. Creating propaganda for a rebellion — correction, a revolution — was not.

That said, Effie was confident in her ability to coach anyone entrusted with presenting content to a public audience. ...Well, almost anyone. Historically, Katniss had been hopelessly uncoachable. Even still, even out of her element, Effie was determined do her best to guide her girl into embodying Cinna’s vision of the Mockingjay.

Effie stood in the studio, rehearsing the line in her mind as she experimented with different body positions and different speeds of the circular fans which were brought in to simulate wind.

“Let’s have her start down on one knee then stand up and wave the flag, symbolically pledging to the people of Panem and rising with them into battle.” Plutarch announced from the sound booth. “By the way, Haymitch has been discharged from the detox unit. He’s scheduled to be here later when we shoot the propo.”

Effie shifted into uncharacteristic silence. She hadn’t seen Haymitch since before she was brusquely ushered onto a hovercraft and taken to 13. That was weeks ago. Against her will now, her heart beat into her throat. For an instant, she brushed her lips with her fingertips, remembering the night before the Quell.

“This is good news,” Plutarch said, “He’ll be able to anticipate how far Katniss can be pushed without breaking.”

“Good news...” Effie echoed the words but they didn’t register because she was still caught up in the ones he’d said just before.

She fiddled with the edge of the cloth covering her hair, with the frame of her sunglasses, with the neckline of her shirt, with the bracelet on her wrist. Her hands refused to stop moving.

Plutarch noticed her restlessness and let it go on without mention. “It’s probably best if one of us brings him up to speed beforehand.”

“I’ll do it.” As soon as she said it, Effie chastised herself for her eagerness. “The prep team is working to build Katniss up now from Beauty Base Zero. With that tragic scar on her arm and the lack of proper resources in this cavern, she will not be camera ready for some time.”

“Fine. He’s been issued Compartment 307, vacated by the Everdeens. According to his schedule, he’s there now ‘acclimating.’”

“Well, that is convenient.” Effie relentlessly folded and unfolded and refolded the cue card in her hand. She steadied her voice. “...I suppose I shall go do that now.”

“I think that would be best,” Plutarch agreed, “Before you’ve folded Katniss’s lines into an origami crane or perhaps... a valentine?”

Effie glared in the direction of the sound booth, irritated with Plutarch for perceiving more than a *decent* person should. His chuckle brought her to her senses. She slipped the cue card into her pocket and made her way to Compartment 307 with deliberate slowness.

She took the stairs partway, sliding her fingers along the cold metal rails as she walked. Their yellow paint was one of the few bright colors in this cement and steel dungeon. She’d developed an appreciation for the handrails for no other reason than because they were something besides dingy gray or lackluster white.

She paused outside his door. Awash with self-doubt, she checked her intentions. Her eagerness to see Haymitch had nothing to do with the propo, of course, and everything to do with curiosity and concern about his mile-deep drop into forced sobriety. She knocked with the feeling of wild bird in her chest.

“He isn’t home!” Haymitch hollered in a hoarse voice, “The purple crap on his arm says he’s ACCLIMATING.”

“Haymitch... it’s me.”

Effie. Her voice was without its usual trill, like a canary in a coal mine singing softly at the edge of stopping. The *air* must be okay enough, because here she was at his door.

He slid it open and took in the sight of her dressed all in gray with a turban on her head and a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes. Not a speck of sunlight would reach this place, except the glimmer that squeezed through the cracks in him just then and lit him up. For the first time in weeks, months, years maybe... he laughed. The laughter was so genuine that it moved through his body like a stranger.

She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips in annoyance. “I think I liked you better before you were sober!” She huffed.

“It’s good to see you too, sweetheart. Do you want to come in? This sure as hell ain’t the penthouse.”

She slid the dark glasses down the bridge of her nose and tucked them into her pocket with the cue card. That was when she really saw him. The fine details of his face tugged the flapping bird from her heart into her gut. She sucked in a breath and held it.

Weeks before, his body had been strong, prepared for battle. The muscles he’d built up during the months in between the Victory Tour and the Quell had wasted away during his stint in detox. She stepped into the room and caressed his yellowed cheek. Then she breathed again. “What have they done to you?”

He closed the door behind her. “If I said torture would you believe me?”

She heard teasing in his voice and a sharp edge of truth. “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. She brushed her fingers over his jaw and down his neck. It was the path tears might take if she ever saw him cry. She smoothed the collar of the shirt that 13 had issued him.

He refused to call it HIS shirt even while it was on his body. For a moment Effie made him forget that the collar choked him and that the walls were closing in. Her touch felt so good that he joked a bit in order to hold onto reality. “I got the standard District 13 makeover for a drunk. I had my own prep team and everything. That explains the unparalleled beauty you see before you.”

Then her arms were around him, and the sensations of her were filling him up. She smelled different. No coffee or cinnamon gum. No vanilla perfume or orange shampoo. ...Just Effie, so slight with no 5-inch heels, no layers of chiffon, almost no makeup, no corset...

He held her loosely with his hands on the small of her back. He said nothing else and asked her no questions. He slowly lifted the tail of her shirt, learning again the feeling of her skin as he slid his palms up to the strap of the bra she wore. It was probably no more hers than their government-issued everything else.

He wanted it off. He wanted to get rid of everything unrecognizable.

As if reading his mind, she pulled off the knitted hat he was wearing, and she ran her fingers up the nape of his neck into his hair. Her nails were short, and he felt the tips of her fingers naked along his scalp, sending warm shivers to each appendage of his body.

“What are you doing to me?” His voice was ragged as if cut by a serrated knife.

“Plutarch suggested I bring you up to speed.”

“Plutarch authorized this, did he?”

“I had to see for myself.”

“See what?”

Effie had closed her eyes as she held him, but she opened them again and pulled back far enough to see the dark circles below his. So much gray. “I needed to see what your *prep team* did to you.” She masked her sympathy, knowing he would detest it. She plucked a kiss at the corner of his chapped lips.

It was the kind of kiss he’d seen her give a thousand times in the Capitol. The kind that meant nothing. Only it didn’t feel like nothing. Her mouth was naked too, warm and wet like a bottle of something that could slip inside him and burn on the way down.

She brushed her fingertips across his forehead, sweeping the hair away from his eyes. Her breath lingered at the corner of his mouth. “I just... I need—“

“Oh, hell—“ He caught her lips and drank her in. The feeling of her spead through him like wildfire. When they’d kissed weeks ago in comfort, it hadn’t been like this. Yet here this was.

“Ohh...” Surprised by the suddenness of arousal, she was drinking him in too. “Oh, my God.”

He perceived *need* as a dangerous thing. If he didn’t need anyone, then he hurt less when he lost them — and he always lost them. He felt it then with Effie, that dangerous thing creeping up on him. He heard it too in the sound that came from the back of her throat. A whimper, almost pleading.

He yanked his hands out from under her shirt and stepped backward, catching his breath. “I shouldn’t be bringing you into this.”

“Why ever not? And what do you mean by THIS?” She knew what this was for her, and she wanted his answer.

“I don’t know. ...I just know you need to leave.”

“But the propo...”

“I’ll wing it.”

She held her ground, searching his face, trying to understand.

He focused on the concrete between their feet. He didn’t dare look at her eyes. In his mind, he saw them filling with tears. He was barely holding himself together, and if he saw her like that, then he’d be gone... and so would their clothes.

“Get out of here, Effie.” He refrained from screaming, refusing to make this degenerate into something resembling a nightmare. “...Just go.”

In all the years of moments that came before this one, he’d never looked so afraid. He was right in front of her, but he’d retreated to a place within himself that she wasn’t sure how to reach.

She pulled the repeatedly folded cue card from her pocket, slapped it against his chest, and let go. He caught it before it fell to the floor. “Consider yourself *brought up to speed!*”

She slid the door open. “And by the way, you did not BRING me into this. Push me away all you want, but I’m IN this. I’ve been in this longer than you probably realize. And that will NOT be changing!”

He looked up, and her eyes were dry, like sapphires set in bone.

“If you want me out of this, honey, you’re going to have to kill me yourself, so consider carefully what you want.” Before sliding the door shut, she added, “I’ll see you in the studio when you’re done... ‘acclimating.’”

He stared in shock at the door slammed in his face. Then laughter erupted again from those cracks in him where she’d slipped inside and lit him up. Maybe the *psych ward* had misjudged his readiness to handle this place without liquor. But there was no way he was going back down now, not with Effie up here making him feel alive again.

[hutchhitched]

Social Commentary in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Part III

Part 3. Yeah… There’s a whole lot going on in the last third of the book, and I may have had to put it down a few times because I got really excited about how she wove the new book with the original trilogy. I know some people thought Part 3 was over the top, but I found it purposeful and deliberately on the nose, and I think that’s why it works. If you want to see my thoughts on the rest of the book, here are the links to Part 1 and Part 2.

 Major spoilers below:

Tagging some who asked me to and/or are interested: @the-tesseract-wrinkling-time​, @shesasurvivor​, @everlarkedalways​, @xerxia31​, @infinitegraces​, @panemposts, and @endlessnightlock​. Some others are tagged throughout.

 Before we move on to Part 3, I have to backtrack to something from Part 2 I forgot to include in the previous meta (I blame being up till 7 am and only getting four hours of sleep for that). In Chapter 18, Reaper stabs and rips the Panem flag and then uses it to cover the fallen tributes. The reaction of the mentors is shock and horror that the flag has been treated in such a manner. There’s a lot to unpack here. First, desecration of the flag in the US (and I’d guess most other countries, too) is almost always guaranteed to get a reaction. There have been attempts to pass a constitutional amendment to make it a federal crime to burn the flag. Others argue burning the flag is something protected as freedom of speech. Yet, official guidelines for how to treat the flag are broken all the time by letting it touch the ground, not lighting it, not taking it down during inclement weather, and turning it into a massive symbol of patriotism by holding it horizontally on a football field. I saw someone make reference to the outrage against NFL players kneeling during the national anthem as being disrespectful to the flag (even though that was a suggestion of a military veteran, as opposed to sitting during the anthem instead) rather than being outraged at the actions those players were protesting (police brutality against African American men). So, who is it that rips down the flag? Reaper, the tribute from District 11. Rue and Thresh were District 11, as were Chaff and Seeder. All were portrayed in the movies by African American actors. It’s fairly clear in the books that it’s a predominately black district. In other words, it’s likely Reaper is also a black man who tears down the flag of a country that oppresses him so he can provide cover and give dignity to the dead tributes. Now, think about it from a “rebel” perspective, and imagine that’s a Confederate flag that was ripped down. I know in the books that the Districts are the rebels and the Panem flag is more connected to the Capitol, but still. The debate over the (mostly successful) removal of the Confederate flag from former slave states has raged in the US in the past decade. Probably the most famous image of that debate is when a black woman climbed the flagpole at the South Carolina Statehouse and ripped down the flag. Remove the flag of the government that oppresses you, which is what Reaper does.

 Something I find really interesting is the lack of technology in this book. Panem obviously has advanced technology, but it’s not nearly as present as it is in the trilogy. I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume that’s a result of the depressed economy, and by the time we get to the 74th Hunger Games, the economy in the Capitol has recovered and been used to develop new technologies and products that make life easier for citizens. That’s a post-World War II/1950s consumerism analogy if I’ve ever seen one. Post World War II affluence in the United States was a major factor in the development of new weapons and technology. Because American workers were making more and had savings and wages rose 100% between 1945 and 1968, Americans spent more, bought more, and paid more income tax. The solidification of capitalism as America’s economic system helped the US “win” the Cold War against the Soviets. Because Americans made more and were subsequently taxed more, the government had more money to develop new weapons and technologies. The first computer, the hydrogen bomb, vaccines for polio and smallpox, NASA, and the development of ICBMs all took place during this era. A strong economy typically makes people think the nation/government is strong. Not coincidentally, an early counterculture developed during the 1950s that protested against increased consumerism and senseless spending. The Beats/Beatniks/Beat Generation disliked that Americans spent so much money on frivolous things while others (African Americans, the rural poor, and so on) suffered. Sounds a lot like the Capitol citizens who spent lavishly and didn’t care about the districts. As a slight aside, Allen Ginsberg, one of the Beat Generation’s poets, wrote Howl, which calls out capitalism and repression. I wrote The Cry for @promptsinpanem’s prompt Howl in homage to that. Someday, I might actually expand it.

 In Part 2, I wasn’t sure who had the power, and I really couldn’t figure out Highbottom. That’s mostly cleared up for me by the end of the book. I was intrigued by Pluribus Bell’s (many bells, I love it!) story about Highbottom and Snow’s father before Snow left for District 12. It was the seed that let me hope we’d get more information, and we did. Crassus Xanthos Snow is Snow’s father. Crassus was a member of the First Triumvirate (Julius Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus) and helped transition the Roman Republic to the Roman Empire (from pre to post Hunger Games). He also gained power and influence as a soldier during the slave uprising of Spartacus (became a hero during a rebel uprising). Also, Xanthos is a city in Turkey that’s been conquered repeatedly but always recovers (Snow lands on top!). Highbottom’s first name is Casca, who was one of Caesar’s best friends, but he ends up being the first person to stab Caesar during his assassination. The break in the relationship between the two men is clearly why Highbottom turns on (young) Snow, and the explanation about how the Hunger Games come to be is a pretty big allegory to the betrayal of Crassus (Caesar) by Casca. Also, that explains why Highbottom didn’t ever really seem to be supportive of the Games, even though he was credited as their creator. ( @everlvrks)

 There are a lot of references to Roman names and places in this book and the trilogy. The Capitol seems pretty obsessed with the Classics and wants to reflect that type of lifestyle and elitism. During grad school, one of the books I had to read discussed the obsession America’s Founding Fathers (Washington, Hamilton, Jefferson, and so on) had with the Classics. They emulated Greek and Roman ideals. The District of Columbia (Washington, DC) is named after the Roman goddess of Liberty. Jefferson’s and Washington’s homes use classical architecture like domes and columns and many of the federal buildings (the Capital and White House) reflect that. Add on the Washington Monument (an obelisk—which are found all over in the ancient world) and the columns of the Lincoln Memorial and the dome and columns of the Jefferson Memorial, and well… The Founding Fathers were Deists who revered the Classics, which is why I (a religious historian) always laugh when people tell me the US was founded on religion. Yeah, and the Civil War wasn’t fought over slavery, either.

 Before this book, I would never have thought about Snow having a history with District 12 or a stint as a peacekeeper. I even looked ahead to the title for Part 3 and still didn’t realize that was going to happen, but it makes sense. First, Snow seems to have known Katniss much better than can really be explained. Her hunting outside the fence and her escapes to the Lake were never really solitary because he knew the area. He’d been there before. He’d visited Lucy Gray in the Seam, been to the meadow, and so on. Some people may see that as too much, but it absolutely fits with the draconian oversight of the Capitol during Katniss’ time, and it indicates why Snow was so intrigued and obsessed with her. Second, Snow’s experience in the military would have worked wonders for his political career. He won the Hunger Games, served as peacekeeper, visited the districts, became the youngest person to qualify for officer training, and went to the university. That’s a stellar resumé for a budding politician. Clearly, he was exceptional. Terrible, but exceptional (which is said about super-villain Voldemort in Harry Potter, too).

 I had to stop and put the book down and wiggle with glee when the tree appeared in the distance. I didn’t think we’d get the actual Hanging Tree in the book, but that might have been the most thrilling part for me. It wasn’t overt. She didn’t name it. She just set the scene, but I knew what it was. And then to have the hanging and the man yell out to his “love” and the mockingjays pick up his cry and for Snow to see a mockingjay and immediately hate it… Oh, good night, nurse. It’s just too much. That’s when I made this post. I’ll admit, I have a thing for lone, massive trees. My dad has one on his farm, and there’s a huge, very old Burr oak that’s a local tourist attraction close to where I went to college. I felt like I was driving down the road and seeing it rise from the distance, which I did way too many times during undergrad and grad school.

 References to the Covey having traveled and planning to again travel north were clear indicators that District 13 was alive and well (sorry for the on the nose pun) even back then. It seems obvious to me that Snow kept that information in the back of his mind as he took power and anticipated an eventual attack from there. The fact that his family’s fortune was destroyed in District 13 makes it even more appropriate that the final rebellion came from there, too.

 I didn’t like Lucy Gray in the first two parts of the book, and I’m still not completely taken with her. There’s just something about her I don’t quite trust, and I’m not convinced she was completely in love with Snow. Sejanus thinks she is, but I’m also not sure I trust him to be the most perceptive person either. I’ve discussed this briefly already with some others, but I’m still on the fence about her. I acknowledge that she doesn’t have the same power as Snow does, so it’s not possible by definition for her to play him, but I do think she’s manipulative. Peeta is, too, so that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it does indicate she’s not exactly who she says she is. Lucy Gray’s job as a performer gives me even more pause because her living is made by putting on a show, by performing, by convincing an audience that what she’s doing is authentic. For lack of a better way to put it—If Lucy Gray is a performer, how would Snow ever know what’s real and what’s not real? Sound familiar? (This part’s for you, @lovely-tothe-bone.)

 The songs:

Deep in the Meadow—It’s a lot disconcerting that Katniss’ lullaby to her sister is a song Snow’s heard before out of the mouth of the woman he once loved. Equally disturbing to know that he’s been in the meadow, and I really thought that the song was going to be about Lucy Gray and Snow together there. I’m glad it stayed a lullaby and not a love song. I think it’s fabulous that Katniss and Peeta reclaim the meadow for themselves as a place where their daughter dances. It’s a little bit (a lot) poetic.

 The Hanging Tree—Well, now that we know where that story comes from, I like it even more. The only part of the book I didn’t really like was Snow thinking he had something figured out and then rethinking and then changing his mind and so on. There was a little bit too much of that as he tried to decipher song lyrics, and particularly with this song.

 The public domain songs—I grew up singing these songs (although with some slightly different words), so they all brought a smile to my face. Probably my favorite rendition of Keep on the Sunny Side is from the movie Oh Brother! Where Art Thou? The entire soundtrack is very bluegrass, and good bluegrass is delightful. And it’s nice to know what the Valley Song really is.

 Unnamed—Okay, so my favorite was the first one at the Hob (pp. 362-364). I’m no songwriter, but I could hear the tune, and it was very Lumineers (maybe crossed with the Dixie Chicks?). Upbeat and peppy and feel good, all the way. I also find it interesting that music and concerts are outlawed in District 12 once there’s a new base commander. An allegory on the tendency to cut art programs first? On the power of art as a motivation for action? Both?

 Which brings us to the star-crossed lovers of District 12, or something. Obviously, this brings up images of Katniss and Peeta, but probably the most famous reference is in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet with the star-crossed lovers taking their lives. That’s often read as them being fated to die, which is something Snow seems to follow. He mentions his destiny and fate many times and doesn’t do a very good job of recognizing his choices. There’s one time during the Games when he resolves to do the right thing, but otherwise, no. Shakespeare does also say in Julius Caesar that the fault is not in our stars, but in ourselves (which John Greene used in his book title). Snow doesn’t want to take responsibility for what he does. He chooses to follow the rules instead of what is right. He’s legalistic instead of ethical. There’re a lot of philosophical and religious undertones to that, but I’ll let that float for a while.

 On page 386, Lucy Gray tells Snow, “You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s written in the stars.” I’ll be honest, I almost dropped the book when I read that. In Catching Fire, Katniss says the same thing about Gale, but she doesn’t end up with him. They aren’t fated. She ends up with Peeta, who she chooses to love. I should have known from that point that Lucy Gray and Snow would not end up together, but I still wasn’t sure how that was going to happen. I really did think she was going to break up with him or betray him somehow because that was the only thing I could think of that would make him stop loving her and turn into what he becomes. A broken heart is a really good reason for revenge, but what actually happens so much worse. ( @mtk4fun  and @norbertsmom )

 Snow and Lucy Gray decide to run away together, just like Katniss and Gale were going to in the original trilogy. Lucy Gray is worried the mayor’s going to kill her, and Snow doesn’t want to live without her. Except he realizes really quickly that he doesn’t like life on the run. It’s beneath him. He deserves better. He’s entitled to and fated for more, he thinks. On top of that, he’s passed the officer’s training exam, and suddenly there’s a way out of the pit into which he’s fallen. And then he lies to Lucy Gray.

 Lucy Gray’s said all along the most important thing to her is trust, and then he lies to her. He doesn’t tell her he had a hand in turning in Sejanus. He doesn’t tell her because he’s afraid of losing her, which is a selfish reason, not one to spare her feelings or to protect her. He lies to protect himself. By the time they get to the cabin at the lake, he’s decided he’s not going with her, and she’s realized he’s lied to her. And then the weapon he used to commit murder (for her or him?) is there. Snow snaps quickly after that. There’s a metaphor, I’m sure about him losing his hold on reality and self-control when he’s past the boundaries of civilization, but he falls really, really quickly. He goes from wanting to tell her he’s changed his mind to attempting to murder her. The only thing that really stops him is the snake bite, which is not fatal, but reminds me why I didn’t trust Lucy Gale. Was it deliberate? Did she leave him on purpose? Does she escape him, or does he manage to cut her down? Either way, he doesn’t choose love. Love, which is a selfless act, isn’t his end game. He chooses himself. He chooses being selfish and looking out for himself instead of others. He doesn’t like being vulnerable. He clinically plans to marry someone he doesn’t love, so he never feels exposed again. In short, he makes the opposite choice Katniss does, and that makes all the difference.

 A few other things because this is way too long at this point:

 Peacekeepers: Boot camp for peacekeepers was interesting and strongly resembles the process of the military stripping down differences and making each soldier part of a machine. Haircuts, uniforms, routines, and so on are all about stripping away his identity, and he hates every second of it. He’s too good for that, and there’s entitlement all over the place. That’s very different from the peacekeepers from the districts who join the military as a way out of poverty. I mean, Snow does, too, but only because he’s forced.

 Betrayal: Recording Sejanus and Snow justifying it was hard to read. It was harder to read about the execution. And then to have the Plinths take Snow in after he returns to the Capitol is absolutely the worst. Despicable behavior.

 Poisoning Highbottom: It doesn’t surprise me, and it’s exactly what the rumors in the original books were. Snow kills his rivals to ascend.

 Snow’s role in the Games: The Hunger Games change dramatically between the 10th and the 74th. It’s clear Snow has a significant role in how and why that happens. The tributes aren’t caged and are housed in luxury. The cattle cars are replaced with a high-speed train with lots of food. The tributes get stylists and prep teams instead of being unwashed and dirty. In other words, the treatment of tributes becomes more humane, which becomes even more problematic. At least Lucy Gray knew she was being offered up as a sacrifice. No one lied to her about what she was. The implementation of these ways to fatten the lambs up for slaughter is horrific and cruel and very Snow.

 Finally, the purpose of the Hunger Games changes for Snow by the time we get to the end of the book. They are no longer just a way to punish the districts. They’re a way to exert controlled warfare instead of a messy war between the Capitol and the districts. It’s still kids being forced to kill kids. The tributes are still kids in cages. They’re still “not from here.” The Capitol kids are to be protected, but the parents in the poor areas aren’t able to take care of their own. It’s all deliberate. Collins doesn’t pull punches about the treatment of migrant children in cages or the murder of schoolchildren. What she does is point out that we don’t really mean what we say about protecting children. We’re only outraged for our own, not for those who are different. Suzanne Collins doesn’t have time for white privilege, American elitism, tyrannical government, excessive capitalism, or excuses, and her book reads that way. I loved every word of it.

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, Chap. 21

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

I hope you like angst on your fanfic sandwish :) Leave a comment and tell me your thoughts!

Also: (spoiler not a spoiler) I included the Capitol anthem from the new THG book “The ballad of songbirds and snakes” but it doesn’t give away the story so it’s safe to read.

Chapter 21 The betrayal

*ring ring*

… What?

*swallows back a sob* Haymitch? Haymitch, it’s me.

Ah. There she is. Long time no princess. What can you want?

I’m sorry. I know I should have called you a long time ago.

Oh, I remember that voice. Effs Trinket needs a shoulder to cry on, huh? So she goes to good ol’ Haymitch. Course. *takes a mouthful of something* It’s too bad mine’re all the way down here then. Both of ‘em.

I can take the train. If I go now I ought to be…

Here in a day. Yeah. And I’m supposed to just welcome you with open arms?

Haymitch…

That’s my name.

I really must speak to you. It’s im…

What for? I’m a dead-end drunk, remember?

I’ve never called…

No, that’s right. Your words were much fancier.

I know you’re angry. This is not easy for me either but…

I’m fine, sweetheart. Just fine. Can’t ruin a life that’s already ruined, right? I s’pose you want all your crap back? Yeah, the kids have it. They think you’re gonna come back, you know. “When hell freezes over”, am I right? But you know Peeta. I’ll just tell ‘em to send it over straight away so you never have to set your foot here ever again. Great, huh?

You left me, Haymitch! I didn’t want you to go! I didn’t want it to end!

Could’ve fooled me. *twists the top of another bottle* And don’t you worry your pretty head, sweetheart. You’ll get over it. Trust me. Soon you’re gonna find some nice, wholesome guy who does exactly what he’s told. It’ll be all: “Yes, Euphemia. No, Euphemia. Whatever you say, Eu…”

Don’t call me that! Haymitch, please! Mrs. Q, she… she tried to… I need you! If you care about me at all…

Oh, I cared about you. A lot. More than a lot. Should’ve fucking known better. So why don’t you call Plutarch or Octavia or any other of your friends and just leave me alone. Cause I owe you nothing. Nothing at all.

*sobs* I’m so stupid.

Have a wonderful life, Eff. I’m sure you’re gonna be deliriously happy.

*toot toot*

xXx

There was still some broth left. Katniss slipped her flask into a jacket pocket and poured a second mug.

The storm had finally blown itself out, for now anyway, but one look through the window quelled all hope for a hunting day. No point roaming the woods for sustenance when the snow lay waist-deep.

She fed Buttercup her last piece of bacon and carried the mug into the living room.

“I’m going to the bakery.”

Nightmares had made Haymitch kick all the cushions off the couch again. He lay on his side with the knife cradled against his chest like some scary version of a teddy bear.

“There’re scrambled eggs if you want it,” Katniss said. “And some bacon. I left it on the stove.”

She couldn’t set the mug down. Wasn’t enough space on the coffee table and Haymitch grunted at the sound of glass against glass when she tossed the empties in the container by the door.

He muttered something she couldn’t make sense of and pulled his arm up over his eyes to ward off the light from the one lamp. “Drink the broth at least.” She placed the cup at arm’s reach and was gone.

It was almost a month now since Haymitch set up camp on their couch. One day mid-dinner he just staggered into their living room and he hadn’t left since.

He was decent enough to not completely trash the place but still, you didn’t want Haymitch Abernathy for a roommate. He was hard enough to deal with nextdoor.

Katniss couldn’t stand it being at home these days. Haymitch woke both her and Peeta almost every night with the agonized sounds he made in his sleep and daytime was no better.

Their mentor, hollow-eyed and shrunken on the couch – it all reminded her too much of her mother and Katniss fled when she couldn’t help. She kept to the woods as much as possible and if not the woods the bakery or the Hob or Hazelle’s.

Anywhere but home.

When they finally asked him if it wasn’t time he moved back to his own house, they cleaned it for him, Haymitch only shot them a long look, like a dog they had just mistreated and rolled over so he faced the couch.

“She’s there,” that’s all he muttered.

And what could they do? Not tie him up and dump him somewhere. He was their mentor and they already owed him more than they could ever repay.

They had known something was off the moment they got home, the day before Christmas Eve.

They walked up the old pathway, loaded with bags and the first thing they saw when they passed Haymitch’s house was the Christmas tree lying in the snow, still green and frosty and covered with ornaments. Like someone had just thrown it out the door.

And it wasn’t the only thing.

In the ever-growing light they saw the ground littered with items. Towels and bed sheets and bath robes lay in bundles, all frozen stiff. Soggy, old newspapers and magazines too, blown apart by the frisk wind.

Her clothes were everywhere, along with an endless number of bottles and jars and other beauty products half-buried in the snow. They found napkins and slippers, perfume bottles and pillows. Hairbrushes, tea cups, blankets, curtains, shower curtains, even anagrammed towel hangers attached to chunks of the bathroom wall.

The state of his house was even worse, like a twister had gone through it. They asked him about it but Haymitch was a closed book.

Then, of course they found Effie’s note on their kitchen table and it wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened in their short absence.

They wanted to help. Of course they did. Only, how? Wasn’t like they could change what had already happened or say anything to make it better.

Not that Peeta didn’t try to talk to him. Talk at him. Finally Katniss stepped up and said, not unkindly,

“Just leave him be.”

Haymitch had said next to nothing the whole time but when Katniss and Peeta turned to leave he stopped them in their tracks.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said and looked Peeta straight in the eye; a feat considering how intoxicated he was. “You don’t get any ideas ‘bout calling the Capitol, alright. I mean it, boy. This is my wreckage.”

Sun set early this time of year. For the remaining hours, Katniss and Peeta dug for treasures in Haymitch’s garden, until they had to squint in order to see. And even then some of Effie’s belongings would probably not be found until Spring.

They brought it all back to their house. Silently, Peeta filled the sink with hot water and suds and washed the plates and glasses and tea cups while Katniss stood at the ready with a towel, both of them deep in thought.

Back in District 4, when Peeta gathered her in bed, he had teased her about their cosy, up-coming Christmas. Painted her pictures of Effie plaguing both her and Haymitch with her bright holiday spirit and bringing them gifts – wrapped in regular wrappings so she didn’t technically break Haymitch’s rule of “no Christmas presents.”

Dinner at the Hob would follow where Effie would spend about two thirds of it clucking over Haymitch’s table manners and Haymitch stating he should just hire her voice to cut his turkey for him and “we’re not doing this again, that’s for sure”, all the while not quite able to keep his hands to himself.

“And then they’ll top the evening with a see-through excuse like ‘I’m gonna go get a bottle’ or ‘I am simply exhausted. Do you mind if we call it a night?’,” Peeta finished and grinned at Katniss who squirmed like a worm in hot ashes.

It just felt good to make fun of their mentor being happy for once. Happy with Effie.

Now, everything was in ruins and tomorrow would be just like any other day, with Haymitch drunk and getting drunker.

Not that Christmas had ever been a busy affair in the Victor’s Village. They had dinner and that was pretty much it. A slightly fancier one, perhaps, with about a 50% chance of Haymitch joining. He only ever showed up last New Year’s because of Effie.

Because of Effie. That phrase applied for many aspects of Haymitch’s life, didn’t it? He’d deny it but just the fact she got him to even consider drying out pretty much said everything.

“Maybe we should call her,” Peeta wondered, not sure himself.

“But you heard him,” Katniss said. “This is none of our business. And they’ll come around, eventually.”

They were both so used to their mentor and escort’s antics. Those stubborn, old fools were always at each other’s throat and through and through they found a way back to one other. Back at each other’s side.

This too would pass, surely? Sooner or later, one of them would swallow their pride and pick up the phone.

And while Katniss and Peeta waited for that call they stored Effie’s things for safe-keeping, well out of Haymitch’s sight and stopped asking questions.

But February rolled to a close with dark days and even darker nights. Life in Twelve was just one storm after another and people were forced to seek shelter at the Hob so as not to get lost in them. The vixen’s cry echoed in the night and Katniss and Peeta stored up on candle sticks for the blackouts.

March came with the deceiving breath of spring only to bury the district in a second winter. Hazelle’s kids put her on bed rest after a sprained ankle. Brooks gushed in plentiful streams under the ice and an apple-cheeked Katniss returned from the woods, game bag loaded with wild turkey.

April arrived with warmer weather. Tiny greens peeked in people’s gardens and the patches of last year’s grass grew bigger for each day. Water dropped down every icicle and town’s kids and Seam kids alike melted snow in water barrels to make the spring come faster.

Everyone kept busy. It was a time of change, of rebirth. Winter was finally over and it had a rejuvenating effect on everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

Effie’s name was never mentioned and yet she was ever present. If an outsider walked past and saw Haymitch on the couch he might think “same old, same old”. But Katniss and Peeta were family and they knew him better than that.

Haymitch had never been an easy person to deal with and definitely not a happy-go-lucky one. But every once in a while, if he had a couple hours of dreamless sleep it was like he got an energy boost.

That’s when he got up, checked on the geese, helped Peeta in the bakery, maybe just had a hot meal down at the Hob before he returned to his bottles.

Now, it was like he didn’t care about anything anymore. He just lay on the couch, drinking and God help the one who bothered him. He only ever left for the bathroom breaks or when his liquor ran out.

But even that came to an end.

It happened when Haymitch staggered into the Hob on a Sunday morning.

“Usual,” he slurred and tossed handfuls of money on Ripper’s bar counter.

“Sorry, Haymitch. You’re too early,” she said. “The train doesn’t arrive until Monday. We’re all out now.”

“Usual!” Haymitch repeated, louder this time like she was slow. Sighs rose from around the tables.

“It’s Sunday,” Ripper told him patiently. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll get your bottles. I can’t sell it to you now because we’re out.”

She couldn’t make him understand. Each time she tried Haymitch only got surlier. “Wha’s the problem?” he whined. “I have money. Wha’s the problem?”

He scared some of the little kids eating breakfast with their parents. The temperature in the diner seemed to have dropped twenty degrees and finally a gray-haired old man muttered, loud enough for Haymitch to hear it,

“Who’d have thought we’d ever wish for that fancy sow to come back?”

That’s when Haymitch wielded his knife. He was so drunk it was pathetic but for Ripper that was it! She kicked him out and told him either he left his knife at home or he would have to get someone else to buy him his liquor.

From then on, Katniss and Peeta stocked up his supplies and Haymitch found even fewer reasons to get up.

What for?

Maybe it would have been better, Katniss thought. Less cruel, if he never got those precious few months with Effie. Because losing her, losing her altogether and not just as a lover, seemed to have opened a crack in his rock bottom and pushed him down that hole as well.

And Effie, how was she doing?

xXx

May. God, he hated May. Ever since he turned twelve, the month right before the Hunger Games was nothing but a ticking clock. Even now, years after the war had ended, there were still times when he started awake, thinking,

Reaping day’s almost here!

He couldn’t sleep. While he marinated his liver a bug had detoured in to the house and was now buzzing about in the window.

The sound unnerved him because the bloody thing just wouldn’t give up! It bumped and thumped against the glass over and over again, yearning for freedom.

It was Peeta’s damn fault. He always opened a window when it rained.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, alright,” Haymitch growled and swung his legs off of the couch.

It was a wasp. Not the tracker jacker kind, just a regular one. It crawled along the window sill, flew into the glass once more and wiggled it’s antennae in irritation.

“Out with you now,” Haymitch muttered as he struggled with the window hooks. “Be free.” And watched the bug disappear.

The night air felt balmy against his skin. He took his time unscrewing the lid on the silver hip flask. The geese were quiet for a change but the mockingjays were still up, frisky and begging for company. He ran his hand through his wild beard and drank the flask dry. It didn’t take long.

He was just looking for something to fill it up with when he heard the sound. One even his soaked brain could place.

A phone. Ringing.

His mind jumped to Effie and he could’ve kicked himself for it. He resisted the desire to slam the window shut and closed it before he returned to the couch. The coffee table held nothing but empties. They clinked under his fingertips until he found one with some in it. He lifted it to his lips and greeted the burn with a sigh of relief.

Outside, the ringing continued. Even with the window closed, there was no escaping it.

It’s not her. Why’d she call now? No reason for her to call now.

After what felt like 10 years, the phone silenced. The knot in his stomach eased somewhat and after he promised himself to tear the phone out the wall as soon as the sun rose he walked over to the cabinet and peeked inside.

“Thank you, kids,” he mumbled at the welcomed sight. He grabbed same bottles at random and brought them back to the couch. But before he got the chance to flop down on his ass-print the phone went off again.

“Oh, fuck me,” he wheezed.

Who called him at three in the morning? No, strike that. Who called him, period?

Sweat trickled down his sides in never-ending streams. The sound played on his nerve strings like a violin. It was the wasp all over again because the caller, whoever it was, didn’t give up. Refused to stop until he did something about it.

A hundred whispered insults spilled over Haymitch’s lips as he pulled on his shoes.

He hadn’t seen the inside of his house in months. The last time he was here had been a fucking nightmare. Broken furniture, broken everything.

The long, hard signals cut through the stillness like a knife.

It’s not her.

He picked up the phone and the blare of music nearly ripped her ear drum. He held the thing a meter away.

“Hello?” someone called. “Helloo?”

He brought the phone closer.

“Who is this?”

“Well, hi to you too!” the person laughed. It was a woman’s voice. One he recognized, only he couldn’t quite place it. From the Capitol at least. “How’s the bachelor’s life treating you, Haycock?” the stranger woman asked. When he didn’t answer she went on, “It’s me, Gloria! Gloria Highgrass. We met at Octavia’s birthday party, remember? Yellow dress. Good-for-nothing cousin by my side.”

Haymitch drew a silent sigh. Of course.

“Where you’ve been hiding, hm?” she asked. ”Haven’t seen you in a while. Finally tired of your afternoon delight?”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself.”

“Oh,” Gloria chuckled. “You kiss your bottle with that mouth? What would Effie said?”

Her words drew giggles. Clearly, they had an audience and he was just about to slam the phone down when she said,

“I just saw her, that little cock-warmer of yours. And between you and me: I don’t blame you for leaving. What a mess, haha! You screwed her up good, Haycock! She’s so unfuckable now! Well done, sir. Well done.”

And her brilliant laughter hammered his head.

“Do you know we all placed bets on how long the two of you would last? It’s true! You cost me a fortune, Haycock! You guys stuck it out way longer than I thought. And then my useless cousin told me about your little scene at the train station. ‘Get your shit together’ and all that. God, I wish I was there!”

She had a sip of something and then rallied on,

”You wanna know what I think? I think she planned the whole thing. So you’d never leave her. Too bad she forgot that district scum scurry off like cockroaches once the light’s on. Well, she’s paying for it now, isn’t she? How’d she tell you? Before or after you cleared out?”

It was a wonder the phone didn’t break in Haymitch’s fist. He could hardly breathe, that’s how furious he was. But he refused to give this woman the satisfaction of him losing his temper.

“Hey, lady,” he said, in a very measured voice. “If you know something about Effie, spit it out. Or else you can just stop wasting my time and go back to your pathetic little life.”

That finally silenced her. For about three seconds.

”You don’t know?” she said. “You kidding me? He doesn’t know!”

And everyone on the other end broke down in hysterical laughter. Gloria contained hers just long enough to say,

”Come back to the Capitol, Haycock! See for yourself!”

And she slammed the phone in his ear.

He couldn’t stand another second in this place. Her things may be gone but he still felt Effie’s presence in every corner of the house. Like fumes slowly killing you.

He didn’t realize how much his hands trembled until he was back on the couch. He balled them into fists.

The nerve of that woman! “Come see for yourself.” The hell’s that supposed to mean?

He needed a drink. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and tipped the first bottle he found in to his mouth, again and again until he came up choking.

The liquor numbed his worries like they numbed everything else.

“You screwed her up good.” Yeah, that’s likely. He didn’t fancy himself being important enough to lose even a minute’s sleep over.

Maybe so. But you’re not the only bad thing that’s happened to her. Remember?

“She’s fine,” he told the empty room. “Just fine.” Probably thrived now that she didn’t have to deal with him anymore. That low-life Gloria Highgrass was just fucking with his head. She wanted to cause a spectacle, get some gossip material, that’s all.

If Effie was in any kind of need all she had to do was pick up the phone and call him.

Besides, wasn’t like she kept in touch to see how he was fairing. It was damn clear she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. And if she didn’t care, why should he?

Yeah, he thought and reached for the next bottle. Let her deal with her own demons.

xXx

If Haymitch thought he was the only one up he was wrong. Katniss slept a deep slumber for once but all the creaks and groans coming from the floorboards downstairs finally wormed their way into Peeta’s dreams until he flinched awake.

The room burned with morning light. Peeta’s heart pounded in his chest but he remained still so as not to disturb Katniss while he listened to the sounds below.

It wasn’t the first time Haymitch “ghosted the halls”. Peeta remembered it especially well from their train rides together and back at the penthouse during the Games.

Sometimes it seemed like Haymitch just couldn’t stand to remain in the same place, locked inside his own head. And that’s when he stalked from room to room, aimlessly. Like a bear in a cage. Well, a bear with a bottle in its paw.

No, it wasn’t the first time but it was the first time in a while. And he used to go to bed with the sun so what was he still doing up?

At least with Haymitch on the couch, you knew where you had him. Finally Peeta carefully extracted himself from Katniss and slipped out of bed, just to check on him. That wouldn’t be a first either.

He reached the foot of the stairs just as Haymitch returned in to the living room, surprisingly sober. Sobered up. He sunk down on the couch, elbows on his knees. He never noticed Peeta. His eyes were squarely focused on something in his hands.

Peeta couldn’t tell what it was at first but then Haymitch shifted it over and the penny suddenly dropped.

It was a paper goose. The paper goose. He knew it well because it used to sit on the window sill back in his studio. Haymitch must have ventured inside and stumbled upon it by co-incidence.

Effie’s paper goose. Well, Haymitch’s really since she gave it to him.

Peeta remembered the day she made it. It was the summer Haymitch had brought her here after the over-dose.

She had one of her good days and joined them for breakfast in the studio. He painted, Katniss ate cheese buns, Haymitch doodled a horrible caricature of Effie and in exchange she made him this little origami creature.

A good day in an ocean of bad ones.

Shortly after, the night terrors sent her in a down-ward spiral again and just to keep her from clocking out Haymitch said he thought about getting some geese. What’d she think?

The idea probably originated from Chaff. Eleven’s victor loved everything made from the bird. Roast goose and buttered potatoes, corned goose hash, fried eggs with mushrooms.

Those were the dishes he ordered at the training centre before the third Quarter Quell and if memory didn’t deceive Peeta he even told Caesar Flickerman after he was crowned victor, that he liked to raise geese once he returned to District Eleven.

Now he never really got that idea off the table. Instead, Haymitch did. Well, sort of. None of his birds had ever wound up on a plate.

In any case, Peeta bet the whole ”let’s go to Eleven” adventure wasn’t motivated by some great desire to buy geese. That’s just what Haymitch had her believe. Because for whatever reason Effie lived up a little whenever she got to plan things. It gave her a sense of control.

It was slick how he played it. Made her think “This will be good for Haymitch” when really it was “good for Effie”. Something to keep her mind occupied. His own way to try and coax her out of her depression.

A hundred memories drenched up by one paper bird. That’s what Peeta witnessed this very moment. Haymitch could have crushed it easily. Just made a fist and tossed it on the fire. He tossed everything else that even vaguely reminded him of her.

He didn’t. The way he held it, you’d think it was one of his goslings and he had a look on his face that would not have been there, had he known someone was watching.

“Morning,” Katniss yawned as she walked in to the kitchen, hours later. Peeta stood by the stove, quietly pouring hot water through the tea leaves. She reached for the jug of orange juice to set it on the table. “Where’s Haymitch at? I didn’t see him.”

“On the train.”

Katniss stopped, eyebrows lifted.

“You sure?”

In answer, he pointed at the table and she discovered the note, jotted down on a scrap of paper.

I’m gonna go see Effie. Call her and tell her I’m coming, OK? Thanks.

“You talked to her? What’d she say? What?” she asked at the look on Peeta’s face.

“I tried, for about an hour,” he said. “I can’t get through. The phone’s disconnected.”

xXx

Gem of Panem Mighty city Through the ages, you shine anew

Intertwined with their laughter, the Capitol anthem echoed around the deserted city. Morning light stretched their shadows into four giants as they walked down the street, arm-in-arm. Their makeup was smeared, the flowers in their outfits drooping. All evidence of what a smash hit the night had been!

We humbly kneel To your ideal And pledge our love to you!

Coriana’s voice rose highest of them all, the only member in their quartet who could hit all the high notes, drunk or sober, but they all joined in just as merrily with the voice they had.

Gem of Panem Heart of justice Wisdom crowns your marble brow

It felt good, comforting, to chant the age old verses of their childhood. The real anthem of Panem. The politically correct atrocity Paylor whipped together didn’t hold a candle to it!

You give us light You reunite To you we make our vow

Tipsy to say the least, Priscilla wobbled dangerously in her sky-high heels but each time she careened to far to the left, they steered her right again with many giggles and “Oopsy-daisy!”

Gem of Panem Seat of power Strength in peacetime, shield in strife

“Oh, this is my favorite part!” warbled Imogen who couldn’t carry a tune with a gun to her head.

Protect our land With armored hand Our Capitol, our…

Lancer gasped, mid-through the final crescendo. Linked with the others he almost toppled them over at sudden halt.

“My gracious!” he said. “It’s Haymitch Abernathy!”

Up ahead, a man had just appeared round a corner. Ruffled clothes, hair hanging forward, everything about him completely out of place here. He paid them no attention but it was him, without a doubt. The drunken traitor of District 12.

“You heard about him and Effie Trinket, right?” Imogen asked in a loud whisper.

“Of course we heard,” said Coriana. “The whole town knows.”

“Ugh. Just look at him.” Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “At least on television he dressed decently. Disgusting!”

“She’s the one who’s disgusting,” Lancer said and pursed his lips. “He’s district. What did you expect? But a Capitolian really should know better.”

“I would jump off a cliff if it was me!”

“It could never be you, Imogen, the very thought!” said Coriana. “What’s he doing here again? Flaunting himself on our streets after what he did. What they did!”

If Haymitch heard them he didn’t show it and he didn’t change his course. When they remained shoulder to shoulder, gawking at him he sawed right through them like they were a flock of pigeons and they jumped apart with furious cries.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Priscilla shouted to his back. “I really think you should!”

Those four weren’t the only ones who questioned what Haymitch was doing in the Capitol. Had there been one positive consequence of him and Effie breaking up it was that he would never have to see this place again.

Well, the joke’s on him.

She’s not back on pills, he told himself as he kicked a squashed ice cream cup far up the street. She promised she wouldn’t go down that road again.

The train ride was hell on earth. Throughout the long hours he failed to quiet his mind, to shake off his worries over Glorias’s words and why he couldn’t get a call through to Effie. Just thinking about their impending reunion made him sick, until he finally caved in to the bottles in his duffel.

Ironically, the one thing that stopped him from drinking himself completely senseless was the paper goose, now hitching a ride in his pocket. It helped him focus.

Walking the deserted avenues, through glitter and serpentines left from some party only reminded him of the first time he came here unannounced.

Little Ms. Hypocrite. She was one to talk about having someone almost die in your arms.

But she’s not back on pills.

The brightness of the sun reflected in the candy buildings, the lush public gardens alive with bird song, the bounty flowerbeds, the gushing fountains. It was like the Capitol mocked him with its splendor. Days like this were Effie’s favourites.

And there her building was. He saw it over the roof tops, windows reflecting bits of the blue sky. With a grimace, Haymitch slowed his steps like he’d run out of gas. Fuck it. He needed a drink. One more or less, what did it matter? He wasn’t going to stay here long anyway.

He was still struggling to close the zipper as he entered her street, her curb. He pulled the straps over his shoulder, about to give the door a knock.

And he just stared. Dumb-founded, for half a minute or more. Gaped at her front door, like the gaggle of fools he passed earlier.

No, no this can’t be right, he thought, unable to take in what his eyes were telling him. It’s gotta be a mistake.

The name plate on Effie’s door was gone. The window shutters were all closed. He turned the handle. It wouldn’t budge. He rang the bell. He knocked, pounded rather. No one opened. The place was completely dead.

But it made no sense! Effie had lived in this apartment almost all her life!

He walked over to the windows, shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he tried to peer through the shutters for any movements inside. 

“Eff?”

He returned to the door, raised his hand for another knock.

“She’s not here,” a voice rung out.

He turned at the sound. On the other side of the road, just across from him, stood an old lady. The same dry twig of a woman he’d seen twice before. At least twice.

“Mr. Abernathy,” she said. The sun glinted off the gem stones in her wrinkled cheeks. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. “Didn’t think I would ever see you here again.”

He crossed the road.

“The hell’s going on here? Where’s Effie?”

The woman’s pale green eyes pierced his. She had to lift her chin to do it. Just like Sae she barely cleared his shoulders but that’s where the similarities ended. Because this woman’s eyes held none of her warmth or gaiety.

And yet, behind the frost he noticed that same sadness he’d seen there before. Only not for him.

“I warned her”, she said. “I told her from the very beginning not to get involved with someone like you. A man who would give her nothing but heartache. But she never heeded my advice. She didn’t want to listen.”

“Here’s an idea,” Haymitch cut her off. “How ‘bout you quit playing games with me and tell me what you know.”

“I blame myself,” the woman continued, unfazed by the interruption. “I insisted she applied for an escortship. If she became an architect like she first wanted, she wouldn’t be where she is now. Maybe none of us would.”

“Who are you?” Haymitch demanded. “What’s your name?”

“Mrs. Quinlan.”

Quinlan? He had definitely heard that name before. Nothing Games related, at least he didn’t think so. No, Effie had mentioned her at some point. Yeah, at the hospital, after her rescue. She asked if she was still alive. If she was safe.

Mrs. Q.

“You’re Eff’s landlady.”

The woman shook her head.

“Not anymore.”

“Because you kicked her out.”

“She’s beyond my help,” Mrs. Quinlan said. “Euphemia was a good girl, Mr. Abernathy. A good daughter. I have wept blood for her sake but I never gave up on her. Even after the war. She got one last chance to make amends. To build up a life for herself that she could be proud of. And she went and threw it all away the moment she decided to keep your young.”

Haymitch heard the words, loud and clear, but it was like he couldn’t absorb them. Make sense of what she just said.

It was like when he was little and broke his arm, falling down a tree. They all saw it was broken but it didn’t hurt. Not straight away. Like the shock was so great nothing registered.

“’Keep my young?’ he rasped. Heat rose up his throat and face until it burned. “What do you mean ‘keep my young’?”

For the first time, a flicker of surprise registered on Mrs. Quinlan’s face.

“Where is she?” He didn’t think his voice would carry at all. Instead it echoed around the buildings. “If not here, where’s she staying?”

“Go home, Mr Abernathy,” she said. “You have done enough damage as it is.”

“If you don’t want me to wake the entire neighborhood, you tell me where she is!”

Sleepy heads already poked out windows at the commotion. There were murmurs, curious looks thrown their way. Mrs. Quinlan’s lips pressed into the same tight line.

“She moved in with Caesar Flickerman’s daughter. I assume I don’t have to tell you which one.”

xXx

The bearded dragon slumped on her favorite spot in the vivarium - a gnarled old tree root and basked in the warm rays slanting through the windows.

When they first got her she fitted in your pocket. Now they had to use both hands to carry her properly. Sandy yellow and with a look on her face like “you’re all beneath me” you’d think she was the distant cousin of a certain District 12 cat but it was only an illusion.

“Hey, you,” June said and slipped a hand inside the enclosure, knuckles down, fingers outstretched in an inviting gesture. The reptile crawled down the root and over to her. June gave her a soft scratch under the spiky chin and the animal climbed up her palm.

Annabel sat by the secretary desk, her tea long cold and forgotten, but when June passed, she took the time petting their dragon before she returned to her letter. She eyed what she’d just written, critically and gave a deep sigh.

“They won’t even…”

“They will,” said June. She had settled on the couch with the dragon on her lap. The animal closed her eyes under the soft strokes.

It had been a quiet, docile morning with just the occasional car passing by and the gentle scratch of pen against paper.

“The crates should arrive today,” said June and reached for her own cup of tea.

Right on cue the bell rang.

“Speaking of the devil,” said Annabel. She set the pen down and slowly and painfully flexed her fingers.

It rang again, on her way through the hallway.

“Coming!” She pulled her hair back in a hasty pony tail. A shadow moved behind the frosted glass. She took the chain off the door.

And came face to face with the victor of District 12.

”Mr. Abernathy,” she said, eyebrows lifted. “I…”

He didn’t let her finish.

”Effie,” he said. His face was a deep red. “She here?”

“Bel?” June’s voice fluttered in from the living room.

“Is she here?” Haymitch repeated, the fury behind the words only barely contained. “Never mind that. I know she is.”

“She’s here, Mr. Abernathy,” said Annabel.

That’s all he needed. He pushed past her.

“Eff?” he called as he stalked into the living room. June had risen, face white as paper. The dragon’s tail flailed between her cupped hands at the sudden alarm.

Annabel had followed inside and he turned on her again.

“I know all about it,” he spat. She could smell the hard liquor fumes on him. June quickly set the reptile back in the safety of the vivarium. “I know she’s pregnant so don’t try and lie to me!”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s resting.”

“Well, go and wake her up!”

“Mr. Abernathy,” she said, voice suddenly firm. “You will not shout in my house.”

“I don’t care! She thought she can just have my kid and never tell me? Who the hell does she think she is!? I wanna talk to her. Give her a piece of my mind!”

“Not until you’ve calmed down!”

“The hell with you! I’ll go find her myself.”

He turned for the door but she was right at his heel.

“Stop it!” June cried when Haymitch shoved Annabel’s hand off of him. The tea cup knocked over and crashed against the floor. The dragon ran frantically around in its cage. “Stop!”

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

“Haymitch, what are you doing!?”

Her cry made them all turn. Flushed and out of breath from the rush and alarm Effie stood in the doorway, a robe carelessly thrown over her nightdress. Her eyes locked on his, for the first time in months and the words choked in his throat. It was like the rest of the room and everyone in it just disappeared. Everyone but Effie.

And through the blood pounding in his head he could make only one coherent thought.

What have I done to her?

xXx

“I’ll be in the back if you need anything,” Annabel said as she swept up the last of the broken cup. A spitting mad June had already retreated to their bedroom, carrying the dragon with her and now Annabel went as well, leaving Haymitch and Effie to talk in private.

Not that Haymitch looked like he’d ever speak again. He hunkered in the armchair with his arms crossed over his chest. Effie sat on the couch but they could just as well be light years apart.

“Who told you?” she asked in a hushed voice.

”Does it matter?” He wasn’t yelling now. Wouldn’t even look at her. He seemed to have aged ten years in the past half hour.

“No,” said Effie. “No, I suppose not.”

She had a blanket draped over herself. Like that was going to hide anything.

“I thought you were on the pill?”

“I was.”

“Time and money you could’ve saved, clearly,” he said through gritted teeth. “And the whole Capitol knows I’m the father?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I wanted to tell you.”

“So why didn’t you? If you have my kid rolling around in your tummy I deserve to know about it, don’t you think?”

When she didn’t answer straight away his eyes darted to her face. And his insides contracted all over again as cold panic flooded his limbs.

“What, Eff?”

”It’s...” Her voice faltered. “We’re not...”

“We’re what?”

He saw his own anxiety mirrored in her eyes. She placed her hand against her stomach and his throat closed up. Because he knew the truth before she said it.

No! No, I don’t wanna hear it!

”It’s two,” she said. “Haymitch, I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I didn’t…”

But Haymitch had already heaved himself to his feet. He wanted to throw up. He would throw up.

“I can’t do this.”

”Wait,” she said but he didn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at her and her big stomach.

”I need some air.”

xXx

“Good afternoon, Mathilda,” Mr. Bumble smiled when he crossed her door. His elegant, twirled up mustache was dyed a dusk pink today, the same color as the lap dog, freezing at his feet.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Bumble,” Mrs. Quinlan said, hoping he would pick up on the very inappropriate use of her first name.

He didn’t.

“I’d stay and chat,” he said, “but Helga is waiting for us.” And he gave his bouquet of blue roses a little wave. “It’s our anniversary, you know! 25 years!”

“How wonderful. Give her my best,” Mrs. Quinlan said mechanically as he trotted off down the street. If Helga was home or even remembered what day it was, she would eat up her hat.

She dropped the key in to her handbag and crossed the road, mindful of any ice patches hidden under the fresh snow.

The door was locked but that she only expected. So she slipped her hand into her handbag and got out different set of keys. Normally she took pride in not using them but the girl had sounded very off on the phone. Sad.

“Euphemia?” she said as she stepped inside. The flat was dark but she turned the lights on as she went. She knew her way around this apartment, almost as well as her own. “Euphemia, where are you?”

She heard noises from the master bedroom. Retches that led her straight for the adjoined bathroom.

Effie’s nightgown clung to her with sweat. Slumped down on her knees, she clutched the toilet seat as she threw up. Tears and perspiration rolled down her face from the ordeal.

She didn’t hear anyone come in. That way she never saw the complete and utter shock on Mrs. Quinlan’s face. But she quickly composed herself again.

“Euphemia.”

Effie looked up, startled.

“Oh”, she groaned. She was pale as a sheet, her eyes wet and red. “Mrs. Q, now’s… not a good time.”

And she disappeared inside the bowl again as the next wave rolled in.

Mrs. Quinlan didn’t say anything. She just pulled up a stool and seated herself. She gathered Effie’s hair with one hand and held it back from her face until the worst was over.

When Effie grew still, head heavy against her arms, just heaving breaths of both exhaustion and relief Mrs. Quinlan reached for a towel.

“Here,” she said and soaked it under the faucet. “Clean yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Q,” Effie mumbled and dabbed her mouth with it. She felt Mrs. Quinlan’s eyes on her and tried to elude them by wiping the tears off her cheeks. “I am not quite myself today.” 

“Euphemia.”

“Must be something I ate.”

“Euphemia, look at me, please.”

With an enormous effort, Effie lifted her head. She swallowed and swallowed. The color of her face had returned, from barely holding it together.

“Are you with child?”

Those words did it. It was like a dam broke. Effie buried her face against her babysitter’s lap and now they came. All those pent-up tears she hadn’t been able to shed since that awful day with Haymitch on the train station.

Mrs. Quinlan’s face was taut as a string.

”There now,” she murmured and stroked Effie’s hair. ”You will be alright. It’s going to be just fine.”

Effie soaked Mrs. Quinlan’s skirt with her sobs and it was like she was little again.

She’d been four or five and accidentally knocked over a vase. Everything in Mrs. Quinlan’s apartment was either ancient or valuable or both and little Effie stared in horror at the broken pierces. Finally she ran off and hid.

For the next half-hour Mrs. Quinlan had to go from room to room and from closet to closet, peer inside the cupboards and behind every thick curtain, calling her name. When she finally found her in the laundry basket Effie was so terror-struck she burst in to a wail of tears.

But Mrs. Q just scoped her up, pulled a dirty child sock off the side of her dress and carried her into the living room. With her skinny arms linked around Mrs. Q’s neck Effie sniveled and whimpered the entire time, her little body racked with sobs.

Mrs. Q. wrapped her in one of her own shawls that smelled of perfume and to the rhythm of the creaky old rocking chair, she hummed her to sleep with a Capitol lullaby.

She had never felt so safe.

“Why don’t you take a shower, Euphemia,” Mrs. Quinlan said once Effie’s sobs had subsided a little. She patted her hand between her own icy ones. “And then you and I will have a cup of nice, hot tea.”

“Oh, that is awfully sweet, mrs. Q, but I think I rather,” she started to object but Mrs. Quinlan only waved a finger in the air.

“It will do you some good,” she said. “Tea at my place, four o’clock.”

Effie had avoided Mrs. Quinlan’s flat for the past almost two years. She had spent a great deal of her childhood in the company of her landlady when mother and father couldn’t or wouldn’t take their daughter with them to one of their events.

But these days there was only one subject Mrs. Q wanted to discuss when they met and Effie found herself coming up with excuses. Because it didn’t matter how many times she tried to change the subject, Mrs. Q always steered the conversation back on the same sole topic.

Haymitch Abernathy.

Effie never talked about her and Haymitch’s relationship. Not with Mrs. Q or anyone else. But living just across the road, Mrs. Quinlan seemed to know everything anyway.

She didn’t approve. She never liked the gruff and unrefined victor of District 12 and nothing could change her mind.

She just didn’t understand. How could she? No one in the Capitol did.

“How far along are you?” she asked and poured them tea from the plump china pot. Effie tried to breathe through her nose. Just thinking about ingesting something made her queasy.

“Nine weeks.”

“Have you told him yet? Are you sure it’s his?”

“Mrs. Quinlan,” said Effie tiredly. “We’ve been through this. I’m sorry, but it’s private and really no one else’s business.”

“So, I take that as a yes,” she said mildly.

Exhausted, Effie’s eyes wandered longingly to the snow-specked window beyond Mrs. Q.

“He should have taken precautions,” the old woman said. “The situation he puts you in.”

”It wasn’t his fault,” said Effie. ”It just… happened.”

Mrs. Quinlan poured cream into her cup but Effie didn’t touch it. All she really wanted was to lie down.

There were cookies rounded up on the silvery cake stand. The frosting wasn’t like Peeta’s. Not nearly as nice but looking at them only reminded her of those lazy days in District 12 and Haymitch, teasing her for having such a sweet-tooth.

”Drink now,” said Mrs. Quinlan. “Add a little honey. Or would you rather I put some ginger in? It helps with the nausea.”

“No, it’s OK.”

Effie lifted the cup just to humor her. She was about to take a sip when the warm scent curled into her nose. A crease appeared between her eyebrows.

Mrs. Quinlan didn’t like surprises. Her routines had been virtually unchanged for the past decades. She washed her hands with the same kind of rose soap, combed her hair with the ivory comb that had survived two wars and she always drank jasmine tea.

This wasn’t jasmine tea. Effie should know. After all those tea parties at this very table, the flowery aroma was forever ingrained in her memory. She took another tentative sniff of the strange and unfamiliar fragrance.

It had a faint minty quality but not quite like the mint tea in District 12. She doubted she ever had it in the Capitol either. And yet the smell tugged at her, tried to tell her something.

Her eyes flitted to Mrs. Quinlan. The old woman stirred her own cup in slow, precise circles. The silver spoon rasped the bottom of the china. A cup she had yet to touch.

And a wave of dread flushed Effie’s face when the name surfaced.

”It’s pennyroyal.”

Mrs. Quinlan looked her in the eye. Her face was as hard and unyielding as the gems in her cheeks.

”You should never have let him into your bed.”

The beverage scalded Effie’s hands when she pushed back from the table. She stared at Mrs. Quinlan, eyes wide in terror.

”It’s for your own good, Euphemia. Nobody ever needs to know. It will be like it never happened.”

Effie didn’t stay to hear the rest. She fled the room, didn’t bother with her coat just bolted for the door. Her hands shook so badly she couldn’t work the locks and one terrible moment she thought herself trapped.

Footsteps approached or she imagined they did and a shriek escaped her lips. Then the door flew open and she staggered out into the sleet.

Blood pounded her ears as she locked her front door, fled into her bedroom and locked that door as well. She was shaking all over and slumped rather than sat down on the bed, hand clamped over her mouth.

I didn’t drink it. I never drank it.

Her vision was so blurred it took her three efforts to dial the right number. Her hand found her tummy and she tried to draw slow, deep breaths to calm the erratic beating of her heart.

”It’s OK,” she whispered to the unborn baby in her belly. ”It’s OK. You’re OK.”

So many signals just came and went, her hopes faltered with each one. Until,

“What?”

A sob slipped between her lips at the sound of his voice. She couldn’t help it. Her palm remained against her bump that wasn’t even a bump yet. Just a slight swelling beneath her dress. It made her feel stronger.

”Haymitch?” She fought to keep her voice steady. ”Haymitch, it’s me.”

“Ah, there she is,” he said with the nasty edge that sometimes crept into his voice when he drank, especially now under these circumstances. “Long time no princess. What can you want?”

“I’m sorry. I know I should have called you a long time ago.”

“Oh, I remember that voice. Effs Trinket needs a shoulder to cry on, huh? So she goes to good ol’ Haymitch. Course.” She heard him take a swig from a bottle. “It’s too bad mine’re all the way down here, then. Both of ‘em.”

“I can take the train.” Tears threatened to spill over her lashes but she held them back. Didn’t want to break down in to a blubbering mess. ”If I go now I ought to be…”

“Here in a day. Yeah. And I’m supposed to just welcome you with open arms?”

“Haymitch…”

“That’s my name.”

“I really must speak to you. It’s im…”

“What for?” he cut her off. “I’m a dead-end drunk, remember?”

“I’ve never called…”

“No, that’s right. Your words were much fancier.”

A wave of despair rose up within Effie. It was like a physical pain.

“I know you’re angry,” she said. ”This is not easy for me either but…”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just fine. Can’t ruin a life that’s already ruined, right? I s’pose you want all your crap back? Yeah, the kids have it. They think you’re gonna come back, you know. ‘When hell freezes over’, am I right? But you know Peeta. I’ll just tell ‘em to send it over straight away so you never have to set your foot here ever again. Great, huh?”

“You left me, Haymitch!” Effie cried and her voice broke. “I didn’t want you to go! I didn’t want it to end!”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He twisted the top of another bottle. “And don’t you worry your pretty head, sweetheart. You’ll get over it. Trust me. Soon you’re gonna find some nice, wholesome guy who does exactly what he’s told. It’ll be all: ‘Yes, Euphemia. No, Euphemia. Whatever you say, Eu…’”

“Don’t call me that!” she cried at the sound of Mrs. Quinlan’s name for her. “Haymitch, please!” She didn’t care that she begged now, hand clutched against her stomach like she could somehow protect it that way. ”Mrs. Q, she… she tried to… I need you! If you care about me at all…”

“Oh, I cared about you,” Haymitch said. “A lot. More than a lot. Should’ve fucking known better. So why don’t you call Plutarch or Octavia or any other of your friends and just leave me alone. Cause I owe you nothing. Nothing at all.”

Tears rolled down Effie’s face and she abandoned all efforts to try and stop them.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Have a wonderful life, Eff. I’m sure you’re gonna be deliriously happy.”

And she was left with just the flat audio tone.

Author’s note: I don’t know who I feel the most sorry for. Haymitch or Effie. How about you? And hayffie twins are on the way!

What did you think of Mathilda Quinlan? I face claim Geraldine Chaplin for her, the way she looked when she played Aurora in “The Orphanage”.

[pikapeppa]

Trivia Tuesday

Thanks for the tag, @faerieavalon ! This sounds like fun!

Rules: Five behind-the-scenes facts about a current WIP. I shall cheat and do both my current WIPs.

Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me (Cullen/Lavellan and FenHawke pirate AU collab with @schoute) 

#1: Rylen was never intended to become a significant character. I just needed a lieutenant with a name in the first chapter, and he became Cullen’s reliable buddy largely by accident, and then this conversation happened:

Pika: Should Rylen join the– Schoute: YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS Pika: ALL RIGHTY THEN

And the rest is history. SEXY STARKHAVEN BOY IS ON THE LADY LUCK.

#2: We had originally planned for Deshanna to be dead, but we decided instead for him to be alive with a family, and happily retired from the pirate life. The choice for him to be alive has ultimately has made for a much nicer and more rounded-out backstory for our lovely Piper. 

#3: I spent SO MUCH FUCKING TIME working out Fenris’s backstory. I kept being dissatisfied with it and changing details and adding things and leaving things out. I’m so thrilled that people are enjoying how I depicted him in this story because IT TOOK SO MANY REVISIONS GAHHHH.

#4: I mentioned this at some point before, but this fic has largely been planned only 2 chapters ahead. This is the most fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants longfic I’ve ever written. At this point now, it’s only one chapter planned and then A VAGUE IDEA OF PLOT. OOPS. WE’RE WORKING ON IT.

#5: The next big plot arc is going to be based on a total crack bullshit funny “story” that I made up for Schoute one day when we were both bored out of our minds at work. I basically just started spitballing and bullshitting through Messenger and we both ended up being very entertained by how stupit we are. I never really thought it would end up turning into anything! 

Lovers In A Dangerous Time (Fenris/Rynne Hawke and the Inquisition)

(Amazing art by @lethendralis-paints!!! Still one of my favourite pieces of art of all time!)

#1: When I started this, I did NOT intend to write a novelization of the game. I really just wanted to write the first two chapters (i.e. a plausible tale of how Fenris came to be the bearer of the anchor) and a handful of oneshots. Here we are, ~330k words later, and I have very few no regrets. 

#2. I almost abandoned the fic after chapter 3. I became convinced that people hated it and I got really discouraged at the idea of writing a novelization of such an enormous and lore-heavy game if no one was going to read it. I kept on pushing forward, though, because I had some very clear ideas of scenarios I wanted to write, and ultimately I’m very glad that I did. This is one of the pieces of work that I’m most proud of.

#3: I was originally going to have Fenris go to the Templars for help to close the Breach instead of the mages. I had wanted to write Fenris meeting Cole in the Fade. It was a reader’s comment – a very innocuous comment, not even one asking or suggesting anything – that made me consider Fenris going to the mages instead, and then the horrible idea of Rynne being infected with red lyrium in the blighted future was too TERRIBLE good to pass up. 

#4. I originally had no idea how I was going to handle Here Lies The Abyss (i.e. the mission where you have to decide who stays in the Fade). It was obviously the mission everyone was waiting for, and I genuinely didn’t know how to make it interesting at first. The decision about who stayed there [NO SPOILERS] came to me in a stroke of madness out of the blue, and I basically spent an hour crying to Schoute about how I didn’t want to do it but I had to because it made the most narrative and character sense.

#5. One of the greatest pleasures in this fic has been writing the friendship between Dorian and Fenris. Dorian is a gem, and it’s been a pleasure writing the snags and eventual blooming of his friendship with our prickly Fen. 

Tagging forward to @johaeryslavellan​ @thesaltyhealer​ @midnightprelude​ @aban-asaara​ @lethendralis-paints​ @the-rogue-mockingjay​ @tryvyalsynnes​ @dafan7711​ @mrscullensrutherford​ @oops-gingermoment​ @elveny​ @novamm66​ @ahealthylionisanonillion​ @alyssalenko​ @myfeyrelady​ @river-of-asgard​ and anyone else who wants to play!

[porchwood]

When the Moon: Fairy tale teaser (Ch 15)

Because I’ve been thinking about mice since posting the Strawberry Time teaser, and there’s a mouse scene - or rather, a whole mouse story - over here too. 

I read a long time ago (and strangely, can’t remember where) that “if you read good books, good books will come out of you.” Well, for a goodly portion of my younger years, I read fairy tales. Indeed, for much of high school, I toted around Jack Zipes’ doorstop collection of French fairy tales: Beauties, Beasts, and Enchantment.

I mention this because, after I wrote this sequence, I read it aloud to a fandom friend and felt a tangible shift when I moved from the Everlark scene into the tale that Peeta is telling Katniss. I’d reread it silently a dozen times in writing/editing and obviously knew exactly where it was going, but in reading it aloud, by the time I got to the end I was crying. (And no, the ending isn’t sad.) I can distinctly remember this happening just once before: upon rereading (aloud, for a final edit) the end of Prince Peeta and the Mockingjay-Maid.

So, for what it’s worth, I guess fairy tales come out of me.

This is just a snippet of that tale and it opens kind of clunkily because it’s unfolding from an Everlark conversation. (Sorry for any confusion. :/)

*******

The minstrel spoke with wit and wisdom in perfect balance, maintaining the king always as his superior, even as they spoke as equals, and each night, what tales he told! Full of wonder and magic they were: talking beasts and enchanted maidens, trees that ripened with jewels rather than fruit, golden fish swimming in rivers of silk and silver doves nesting in a tapestry-sky. And when the king was certain his mind could bear no further astonishment, the minstrel would sing to his harp and lute, lulling the young monarch to sweet, refreshing slumber filled with the most beautiful dreams.

The king ached to have such a man as father and counselor and friend, and the minstrel admired the king in turn. Though his life was a wandering one, he accepted the proffered fine quarters for a fortnight – time sufficient, the king was certain, to persuade the minstrel to stay on longer still: a sennight, three months, a year.

But the dreaded final eve of the minstrel’s visit arrived at last, and no present the king could offer would sway him to remain, though his refusals were all courtesy and grace. “I shall return – assuredly, my friend,” he told the king. “But the woods and wilds call me, and I must return to their paths.”

The young king wondered, not for the first time, whether the minstrel was not in fact a king in his own right, governing all the wildwoods of the world and their denizens. For the silence of the birds at his singing seemed as much homage as awe, and now and again the king had glimpsed a snout or beak peeping out of the minstrel’s pocket or collar or sleeve, to be rewarded with crumbs and a stroke of one deft finger.

“But ere I depart,” said the minstrel, “I would share with you my deepest confidence and very greatest treasure,” and from an inner pocket of his jerkin he withdrew a nubbin of downy gray fur, no bigger than the tip of the king’s thumb – surely a willow catkin, except it bore a tiny point of a snout and shining eyes like round black beads.

A mouse, so small and perfect that the king caught his breath in astonishment.

“This is mine own companion,” said the minstrel, “dearer to me than my own flesh, and the repository of my songs and tales. Shall I demonstrate?”

The king, stunned to speechlessness, could only nod, so the minstrel set the mouse upon his shoulder, where she began, in a voice sweeter than any bird’s, to tell of a shy prince trapped in a tower by a wicked magician, with three great ferocious boars as his watchdogs, and of the crafty scullery maid who freed him with the aid of a sparrow, a pint of sour milk, a head of cabbage, and two stout sticks.

The king had never heard such a tale, neither from the minstrel nor any other, and he humbly begged the mouse for another, and another, and another, and each story was new to his ears and more wondrous than the one before.

The candles guttered and the fire burned low, and at last the minstrel rose from his chair. “I must rest, ere I begin my journey,” he told the king, though he looked far more thoughtful than weary. He had spoken little as the mouse spun her tales and now he observed the king closely, as though he anticipated a question.

And it came, as inevitable as sunrise, for the minstrel knew mice and men in equal measure, and he had watched the captivation grow on both sides these past hours at the hearth. Indeed, it was at the mouse’s own request that he had shown her to the king, and she had never spun tales for any but the minstrel himself.

“Please, may I keep her with me?” asked the king, at once plaintive as a child and shamed by this unthinkable request, for he had heard enough of the oldest tales to know what befalls those who seek another’s greatest treasure, however innocently and honestly.

The minstrel regarded him steadily, and it seemed there was something of amusement in his eyes, though his face and words were grave indeed. “She was hewn from my very heart,” he replied, “like a jewel; a pearl of great price. You could sell all you own and still never possess her.”

“I do not wish to possess her,” cried the king in horror. “I wish her to be my companion – and would indeed pay any price for that honor.”

“It will cost everything you now possess,” said the minstrel carefully. “Every stone, every thread, every plank. Would you pay such a price – more than a king’s own ransom – simply to keep company with a storytelling mouse?”

“Gladly,” the king replied without hesitation, for he had learned long ago that a palace brimming with riches is nothing compared with one true friend at the fireside.

“For all her virtues, she is a common field mouse,” the minstrel reminded him. “The stories are hers alone to give, and should she trust you not, you will have nothing for your sacrifice but a small, silent wild creature taking up space in your last pocket and eating a full share of your crumbs.”

“If she trusts me not, I would not wish her to stay with me,” the king answered tenderly, bowing his golden head to the little mouse, and as such he did not witness the minstrel’s fleeting smile.

When the king raised his face once more, the minstrel’s expression was both somber and shrewd, and it seemed that firelight danced across his striking features, though the logs on the hearth were now scarcely embers. Not for the first time, the king wondered whether the minstrel might be a powerful magician, and what the storytelling mousekin might be in her turn.

“Will you sell all you own, that this mouse may belong to you?” asked the minstrel in an eerily resonant voice, like distant thunder at dusk, balancing the precious creature in the palm of one outstretched hand, as though she were indeed the rare pearl he had described.

“I will sell all I own that I may belong to her,” answered the king softly, and this time he caught the flicker of a smile on the minstrel’s lips. “Return in a fortnight, if you will, and you will find me better than my word.”

“I look forward to it,” said the minstrel, as though they spoke of breakfast or a walk in the gardens, his firelit features and the strange resonance of his voice gone as though they had never been.

[javistgs-ficlibrary]

Unforgettable Fics

Last year I posted my first Unforgettable Fics List (you can find it HERE). In that list, I included the stories that had left their mark on me as a fangirl, writer, and reader.

Those were the stories that pulled me into fan fiction, the first ones I read, the ones I think back on when I remember my earlier days in the fandom.

The fics in this year’s list are the ones that keep me here; the ones that inspire me, that prove that this fandom is still kicking, alive and well.  

Some of the fics you'll find here are very new, others are well-known classics I read (or re-read) this year.

Go ahead, take a look, you might find a new favorite among them.

Happy reading!

All the World Drops Dead by @andthisisthewonder

Peeta’s voice has been inside her head since she turned 14. She doesn’t know why they share a connection, and she doesn’t care. She likes having him with her. They comfort each other. Protect each other. Until he goes where she cannot follow. Until he enters the arena. (Based loosely on the film “In Your Eyes.”)

Peeta is reaped. Katniss stays behind in Twelve and follows his struggles on TV. Sounds a little bit like One Victor, doesn’t it? Well, that part of the premise might be similar, but the rest of the story is completely different. In this fantastic fic, Katniss and Peeta share an extraordinary gift that keeps them connected. Even though they’re miles apart, Katniss guides and comforts him. Spending her days glued to the TV screen, she stops him from eating poisonous berries and keeps him updated on his enemies' whereabouts. I’m really intrigued to see how this story is going to end.

Cadavres Exquis by @andthisisthewonder, @mtk4fun, @finnicko-loves-anniec, @xerxia31, @nancymay, @titaniasfics, @peetabreadgirl, @hutchhitched, @sandyeyes, @burkygirl, @geekymoviemom, @i-roaring-girl, @mega-aulover and @javistg 

After six years of radio silence came the call Katniss Everdeen had been dreading for years. Her mother, the last living member of her family, was dead.

Though it had been six years since Katniss had fled her hometown of Panem, she knew she had no choice but to come back and take care of her mother’s possessions, sell her house, get rid of the last vestiges of the life she once knew.

Organised by @loveinpanem. The principle behind this challenge was very simple. Each author was given a very tiny amount of world-building, (that summary you see above) and the last two sentences the previous writer created. From there, the sky was the limit. The resulting story was charming and funny, with unexpected twists and multiple visits to the bank while Everlark tried to solve a riddle they didn’t understand.

An awesome example of what it means to be a member of a creative community. I loved being a part of this!

Camp Mockingjay by @peetabreadgirl, @katnissdoesnotfollowback, @hutchhitched, @javistg, @appleblossomgirl0305, @titaniasfics, @xerxia31 and @burkygirl 

When Katniss agrees to spend the summer working with Gale at a summer camp, every choice brings her closer to an opportunity she thought she'd missed forever.

Another collaborative fic. This one was organized by @everlark-your-own-adventure. Following the principle behind the Choose Your Own Adventure books we read as children, readers were asked to choose between two options at the end of each chapter. Writers had to follow the story and adapt to the readers’ demands.

The resulting fic is as sweet as a summer adventure. Each chapter closely follows the storyline while showcasing its author’s personality and writing style. The last installment --an epilogue written by @burkygirl​ and @xerxia31-- is one of my personal favorites.

Cinders by @ghtlovesthg

Canon-Divergent AU. As rebellion starts sweeping through Panem like wildfire, Katniss quickly learns it will take all she has to keep her loved ones from getting scorched. Submission to PIP. Everlark. WIP

Katniss and Peeta find common ground when Gale and Delly are reaped. Defiant, stubborn, and too consumed by anger to think about the consequences, Gale challenges the Capitol.  In a shocking twist of events, his family pays the price. An intriguing fic, full of twists and turns that still has me at the edge of my seat.

Destiny by @xerxia31

“This would have happened anyway." Canon-divergent Everlark.

In the cave scene in THG Peeta implies that being reaped was the best thing that ever happened to him. Well, in the case of this fic, it is. The dread I felt while reading the introduction, quickly turned to excitement when I found the surprise @xerxia31​ had in store for us. A must read.

Dominion by @muttpeeta

Killing me would be a waste when you could leverage something much more useful out of me.“ Captain Peeta Mellark strikes a deal with his captor, the Empress Katniss Everdeen.

This intriguing one-shot shows Peeta as Katniss’s prisoner. I love the way their relationship evolves here, how they gradually learn to trust and care for each other despite their circumstances. 

Elaborate Lives by @booksrockmyface

Katniss had a normal life, two kids, a husband, and a great job. But it all turned upside down when she shook hands with Peeta and got the literal shock of her life. So how can they handle this delicate situation without destroying their lives in the process?

I’m a sucker for soulmate fics, and this is one of my favorites. Katniss and Peeta meet through their children, who are best friends. She’s married. He’s a widower. They want to be together, but they don’t want to hurt those they care about.

A lovely fic about friendship, love, and the inevitable pull of being with the one person who’s right for you.

Everything But Money by @mtk4fun

Katniss Everdeen learns how the other half lives, and finds love in this Everlark historical set in 1936 during The Great Depression.

@mtk4fun​ takes us through the toils and struggles of the Great Depression. In her fic, Katniss and Peeta face poverty, hunger, unemployment, and jealousy as they fight to find stability in a world that’s collapsing around them. Haymitch’s role as Katniss’s uncle is definitely worth reading!

First Love by @sothereff

Primrose Everdeen makes a friend in new neighbor Peeta Mellark and looks forward to spending her summer days with him at the creek. But when he finally meets her sister, Katniss, Prim finds she has some competition for Peeta’s time… and affections. Loosely based on the film The Man in the Moon.

 I love this version of Prim! She’s sweet and innocent at times, but she’s also as angry and hateful as only a teenage girl can be. And, while we don’t want to see her suffer, we all know this is a battle she just can’t win. 

Five kisses that should have been, and one that was by @muttpeeta

Katniss and Peeta keep meeting on New Year’s Eve. Unfortunately, it’s just never the right time.

Everything seems to conspire against Everlark in this fantastic one-shot. They date the wrong people, they wait, they drink, they cry. Somehow, they push through. A wonderful read with a very satisfying ending.

If I Have You by @everlarkeologist

Everlark, months after their divorce. Written for the F4LLS charity drive.

Katniss wants Peeta to be happy. Why is he in so much pain then? A beautiful story of sacrifice and love that shows us how the pressures we put on ourselves can drive us to hurt those we love.

Kindergarten by @heyyouao

Katniss and Peeta meet in kindergarten and develop a relationship that will last a life time. Modern day AU. Rated for teens initially, although the rating will change as the story develops. This work contains depictions of child abuse which may be difficult for some to read.

This incredibly cute story follows Katniss and Peeta as they grow up as best friends. I especially like Peeta’s connection with the rest of the Everdeen clan --who immediately adopts him as one of their own.

Love Letters by maddmaddworld

You are my best friend in the whole world, and I promise you that you will never feel this much pain ever again. You are my heart, and I intend to keep it safe.

Love, Katniss

Sometimes it’s easier to write what we feel than to say it out loud. I love Katniss’s  reaction to Peeta’s letters in this fic, and what he says is as beautiful as what he writes. 

The Murder Game by @deinde-prandium

College AU fluff. 

This fic is a lot of fun. Katniss and Peeta survive a Murder Game by hiding in his room. With great parallels to canon and the cave scenes, this story seamlessly blends the world of Panem with a modern day AU.

Museum Marriage Proposal by @badnovels​

This is such a Peeta thing to do.

A sweet drabble that makes me smile every time I read it.

The Percentage of Us by @badnovels

Katniss finally believes Peeta when he says he wants her to stay.

How can something so wrong feel so right? A fic that leaves you reeling; dazed as you try to remind yourself that this particular version of Everlark shouldn’t be together, and still.. how can they be apart?

The Playdate by @awhiskeyriver

When Peeta’s son is having trouble in school, he thinks the last thing they need is to plan a get together with the source of the problem.

Daddy!Peeta faces off against Mommy!Katniss in front of Principal Abernathy as they each try to protect their respective children. Just that scene is well worth a read! But, of course, there’s more. There’s friendship, and love, and loss; the frustration of divorce, and the loneliness that comes with being a single parent. And then, there’s also some smut.

Procreate by Loudmouth Lamb

In a version of Panem where young men and women are bred in an annual ceremony to produce the next generation of manual laborers, Gale and Madge try to make the best out of the worst. AU (no Hunger Games). Mild Everlark.

I haven’t read a lot of Gadge fics, but this one is one of my favourites. Inspired by A Handmaid’s Tale, Madge and Gale are chosen to provide a child for Panem.  I love the balance between the two characters’ voices. Madge’s quiet dignity and strength shine though this story as she stares an angry Gale down.

Ruse by @purple-cube

“I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games,” Gale tells him. “Protected her then.”

“You couldn’t,” says Peeta. “She’d never have forgiven you.”

Friendship and loyalty are tested in this beautiful canon-divergent fic in which Gale and Katniss are crowned as co-victors of the 74th Hunger Games. Forced into marriage, the best friends help each other find love and happiness. 

Silver Thaw by @eala-musings

Set during the Dark Days rebellion. A Capitol hunting guide and Panem Games Biathlon champion is enlisted to hunt down and capture a mysterious rebel troublemaker in the snowy mountains of District 13.

Once again, Peeta finds himself acting as a pawn for the Capitol. As the story unfolds, he realises things are not what they seem. Gradually, Katniss’s strength and resolve draw him in, and they become allies and much more. With perfect pacing, beautiful descriptions, and believable interactions between the characters it’s no wonder I consider this an unforgettable fic. 

[javistg]

Prompt idea: an alternate ending for the Hunger games where katniss chooses gale instead of peeta

Hello there! First, I’d like to apologise for not writing the story that you requested. 

I really tried, I promise, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s not because I hate Gale, because I don’t. But, honestly, I think that to have the ending you want, I’d need to re-write the entire trilogy. Because, IMO, Katniss didn’t choose Peeta at the end, when they’re both back in D12. I think she chose him before. 

Maybe she didn’t know how to put it into words, but the feelings were there. More importantly, I think that there are many moments through the trilogy (especially Mockingjay) when we see her NOT choosing Gale. Their relationship becomes strained and distant. The more I thought about it the less likely it seemed.

In the end, Katniss says it best. What I need is the dandelion in the spring… And only Peeta can give me that.

Now, this whole intro doesn’t mean I didn’t write anything. It just means I wrote something else. Canon divergent. There’s a lot of Gale here, but it’s still Everlark.

For those of you still reading, hope you enjoy.

She had been sitting by the fire, drifting in and outof sleep for two weeks, when he knocked on her door.

Sae answered and let him in, making a big fuss abouthis appearance and his new position in District 2.

For the first time since she’d come back to Twelve,Katniss looked up from the flames.

Gale looked good. Healthy. Well fed. His hair was abit on the short side, but Sae was right, the dark uniform he wore suited him.The almost black fabric made his eyes pop.

Gale smiled. His gray eyes soft and worried as he tookher in.

“Hey, Catnip,” he whispered.

“What are you doing here?” she bit back.

“Came to see how you were doing,” he explained.

Katniss looked away. She didn’t want him there,bearing witness to her pain –pain he had partially caused. But she was tiredand lonely.

Her mother was in Four. Her sister was dead.

Haymitch was too busy drowning his sorrow away. AndPeeta… Wherever Peeta was, she hoped he was safe.

Still, she was stubborn, and she had every reason tobe mad at him.

Gale was a big boy –who, apparently, had a big job inTwo—he could take her anger. “Well, you’ve seen me. You can go now,” sheinstructed.

Gale nodded. “I’ll let you be for now. But I’m notleaving. Not yet anyway. I’ll be staying down the street, with the cityplanners. They’re using the house that’s closest to the gates. I’ll be back tosee you later.”

With a quick goodbye to Sae, he was out the door.

Katniss released a slow, deep breath.

She closed her eyes and listened to the wood cracklingin the hearth and let tears, warm and fat, stream down her cheeks.

XXXXX

True to his word, Gale came back.

His visits were never long, but hey were frequent. Henever said much half of the time, just pulled a small stool and sat byKatniss’s side to watch the fire.

These long, shared silences –so similar to the timethey’d spent while out hunting in the woods– reminded her of a different time.Of a different girl and a different boy and the special bond they’d shared.

Katniss said nothing, did nothing. She had nothingleft. The darkness in her soul ran too deep.

On the third day of his trip, Gale removed the shawlcovering Katniss’s shoulders and pulled her up to her feet.

“What are you doing?” she grumbled.

In one swift motion, Gale wrapped her in a thick woolblanket. “I’m taking you out for a walk,” he stated.

Katniss glared at him, but she didn’t resist.

Gently, Gale pushed her out the door.

Cold winter air kissed her cheeks as she walked downthe steps of her house. Katniss tightened her hold on the blanket, wrapping itsnugly around her body to keep the biting chill at bay.

Gale placed his hands on her shoulders and slowlydirected her towards the main gate.

After the months of inactivity, every step was astruggle. But the cold air filling her lungs and Gale’s soft insistence kepther going.

By the time she reached Peeta’s house, she was winded.She stopped and looked up. The place was as dark and empty as it had been whenshe’d last seen it.

“Where is he?” she asked before she could stopherself.

“The Capitol.”

Katniss nodded. A moment later, she turned and headedback to her house.

The next day, Gale repeated the process. This time,Katniss made it all the way to the gates of the village before coming back.

Slowly, Katniss recovered her strength. Each day sheventured further away.

One morning, Gale offered her one of her jacketsinstead of the usual blanket. The sight of the beautiful garment created byCinna’s hands brought tears to her eyes.

Fueled by anger and despair, she snatched the jacketfrom Gale’s grasp and, clutching it against her chest, went back to sit by thefire.

She didn’t leave the house that day.

XXXXX

“The mayor’s coming in tomorrow,” Gale saidone afternoon.

Intrigued, Katniss turned to look at him. “MayorUndersee?”

Gale’s face went paper white. “No. A new mayor.Mayor Undersee is… He didn’t escape. The cleanup crew found five bodies inthe remains of his house.”

A soft, shaky sigh escaped Katniss’s lips as sheconsidered this new information. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hadhoped that Madge had somehow managed to run away on the night of the attack onTwelve.

Her eyes, sharp and pained, locked with Gale’s.“Did you ever thank her?”

He scrunched up his nose. “Who?”

“Madge. She gave you her mother’s medicine, Gale.She saved your life.”

Gale released all the air from his lungs and hunchedforward, burying his hands in his hair. “I didn’t know,” he mumbled.“I didn’t know.”

XXXXX

Days became longer. The snow began to melt. Gradually,Katniss remembered the person she’d once been but, with the memories came thepain, the sorrow, the acute realization of everything she had lost.

They were coming back from one of their walks whenthey heard Katniss’s telephone ringing. It wasn’t unusual, the phone rung everyother day. Katniss always ignored it.

Without giving her any notice, Gale went into thestudy and answered the call.

The conversation was short —just a series of ‘yeses’and ‘nos.’ When it was over, Gale stepped out of the room.

“That was Dr. Aurelius,” he explained pointing at thephone.

A chill ran down Katniss’s back. “What did he want?”

“He says he’s been assigned to your case. He needs totalk to you once a week to fill out a report.”

Katniss scowled. She remembered Doctor Aurelius andhis long naps by her bedside. As far as head doctors went, he wasn’t that bad.But these telephone conversations sounded like a lot of work. She didn’t wantto talk, she just wanted to be left alone.

“Next time the phone rings, just let it ring,” sheinstructed.

For the first time since he’d come back, Gale’s eyesdarkened. His loud, booming voice bounced off the walls. “Enough! This has gotto stop!”

Katniss took a step back. Her hands balled into tightfists at her sides. Her eyes hardened.

“You need to pull yourself out of this funk!” Galeyelled. “You can’t spend your life sleeping in that rocking chair and lookingat the fire, eating the bare minimum and going out for short walks.” He shookhis head and crossed his arms over his chest. “You need to wake up, Katniss!”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And youneed to shower, you’ve barely changed your clothes in all the time I’ve beenhere.”

“I have towake up?” she bit back, her chest heaving and her eyes wild. “How about you? Whatare you even doing here, Gale? Don’t you have a job back in Two?”

“Never mind about my work,” he muttered. “I’m here tohelp you.”

A dark chuckle escaped her lips. “Help me? How? Byforcing me out of the house and telling me to shower? Do you think that’shelping me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted throwing his arms in theair. “But I’m not going to stop trying. Whatever you need, I’ll do. Just talkto me, tell me what you want, and we’ll figure it out together.”

“You want to know what I want?”

Gale nodded.

Katniss closed her eyes and swallowed back her pain.Her whispered words echoed in the room like a clap of thunder. “How about yougive me back my sister?”

Right between the eyes.

Wasn’t that how Peeta once described her archeryskills? She could still see him —the shy, innocent boy who rode with her to theCapitol— telling Haymitch about the squirrels she traded with his dad.

She had never been particularly good with words, butthe hurt in Gale’s face told her she’d done it again. With one clean shot, shehad brought her target down.

Gale’s face crumbled. His anger and frustration seepedout of him leaving nothing but a defeated, empty shell.

Without another word, Katniss ran up the stairs. Thesound of her bedroom door slamming shut reverberated through the building.

XXXXX

Gale was still pacing in circles around the hallwaywhen Katniss rushed back down the stairs with a flower vase in her hands.

Without stopping, she reached the kitchen and threwthe vase’s contents into the embers.

The flowers flared up. A burst of blue flame envelopeda single white rose and devoured it.

With a sharp cry, Katniss smashed the vase on thefloor.

Silence followed.

“He’s gone,” Katniss whispered after a moment.

Gale moved to stand by her side. “Who?”

“President Snow,” she explained. “That was his lastrose, his last message. He’s gone.”

Gale nodded.

A peaceful silence settled over them as they watchedthe rest of the flowers go up in flames.

Looking up to find his eyes, so similar to her own,Katniss asked, “How’s your family?”

“They’re ok. Posy’s going back to school in a coupleof weeks.”

A sad smile settled on Katniss’s lips. “That’s why wedid it all, isn’t it? That’s why we went under the fence every day, why wehunted, and fought, and bled.” A tear ran down her cheek, she wiped it away.“That’s why I volunteered. For her. To keep her safe, to give her a shot at abetter future.”

With a shaky sigh, she continued, “You shouldn’t behere, Gale. You should be there, with them. It may not look that way, but Rory,Vick, and Posy need you a lot more than I do. You are their brother.”

Gale’s voice was broken and full of sorrow. “Katniss,I–,”

“No,” she interrupted, “you fought to give them abetter world. You should be teaching them how to live in it.”

Gale nodded. Tears streaked his cheeks, he didn’t hidethem from her. His pained whisper pushed the air out of her lungs. “Catnip, I’mso so–,”

“Don’t!” she snapped. “Don’t apologize. I know you’resorry, but I’m not ready to forgive you. I know you’re in pain. I know you wantto help. I appreciate what you’ve done, but you need to go back to your family,Gale. There’s nothing left for you here.”

XXXXX

The scraping of a shovel woke her up from a nightmarea couple of days later.  

Dazed, she ran out the front door and around the sideof her house only to stop short.

There, in front of her, was her district partner, herfriend, her neighbor.

His face was flushed from digging the ground under thewindows, but he looked well, thin and covered in scars –like her.

His deep blue eyes had lost the clouded, tortured lookshe had grown used to.  

“You’re back,” she said.

Peeta’s voice was soft and warm in the morning breeze.“Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” he explained.“By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating youforever. You have to pick up the phone.”

Katniss nodded. “I know. He left me a message theother day. I’ll call him back.”

“He’s not that bad, you know?” Peeta said digging thetoe of his boot into the loose earth.

“What are you doing?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“I went to the woods this morning and dug these up,”he said, pointing to a wheelbarrow loaded with scraggly bushes behind him.

Katniss looked past him. Evening primrose, she thought as soon as her eyes landed on theflowers.

“For her,” Peeta added. “I thought we could plant themby the side of the house.”

Without a word, Katniss closed the distance betweenthem and threw her arms around Peeta’s neck. “Thank you.”

Peeta nodded. His arms wrapped around her frame andheld her tight. “I’m sorry, Katniss,” he whispered.

After a long moment, she pulled back. Her eyes wereheavy with tears, but she smiled. “Want to come over for breakfast? Sae iscooking.”

“Sure.” Letting go of her, Peeta took a small stepback. “I’d love to.”

Katniss smiled. “See you later then,” she said, beforeturning and making her way back into her house.

[ellanainthetardis]

I know you must have a lot to write but I finally came up with a prompt. Effie and Katniss have some kind of mother/daughter moment post mockingjay. You can decide the specifics but just something along those lines :)

Here you go! [X]

Tiger Mama

The Presidential Mansion’s hallways werecrowded with rebel soldiers and, in her blue wig and brand new green silkdress, Effie felt ill-at-ease. She had never fitted in in Thirteen but, atleast, when she had been wearing the same grey rags as everyone else, gazes hadtended to slide on her instead of watching her with suspicion.

She wasn’t the only one who had tradedThirteen’s uniform for regular clothes, Haymitch had done it too, but she wasso obviously… Capitol… It wasn’t agood thing to be right now. Not when her people were being murdered in thestreets because District people were angry and the rebels couldn’t control themobs.

The smile on her lips was fixed and fake,warranting her even more stares perhaps than the make-up and the clothes. Shecouldn’t help herself though. This was her default persona: cheerful, cluelessand dumb. It was how she kept herself safe.

Eventually, she found herself in front theEverdeens’ suite and she knocked on the door with relief. The sooner she wouldbe away from the rebel soldiers, the better. She waited but there was noanswer. That made her frown. Katniss had been released from the hospital only afew days earlier and the doctors had been adamant she needed rest and constantsupervision, both of which she could only found in her room.

She hesitated a few seconds more, knockedagain, and then pushed on the handle that gave easily under her hand.

“Aster?” she called, stepping inside andclosing the door behind her. “I apologize for coming in uninvited but I knockedand…” It became obvious very quickly that there was no one there. Theliving-room was empty, the doors to the bedrooms were open and… “Katniss!” sheexclaimed when she spotted the girl huddling against her headboard, her legshugged close to her chest, her cheeks damp with tears. She hurried over, sat onthe edge of the mattress and gently brushed her loose hair back, mindful of thestill healing burns. “Dear, where is your mother?” Katniss shook her head inignorance, her small frame shaking with the strength of her sobs. Effie’s angerrose and fell in the same breath. She understood Aster’s grief, truly she did, but sometimes, it felt toher the woman forgot she had two daughters– one of which was still breathing. “No matter. Are you alright? Are you inpain? Did you take your medication today?”

That was a lot of questions and it was too muchfor Katniss.

Effie sighed and kicked off her heels becauseshoes should never belong on a bed. She moved closer to Katniss and gentlybrushed her fingers through her hair, not sure she would accept more just yet.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong, darling?”she asked softly.

The poor girl didn’t talk a lot anymore. Shewandered around as if in a perpetual daze, not unlike how she had behaved inThirteen in times of great duress, and Effie’s heart broke every time she sawthe usually brave and dynamic girl like that.

“I woke up.” Katniss whispered, her voice raw.“I wanted to tell Prim something and then… Then I remembered.”

The girl’s voice broke and she was soon cryingagain.

Effie opened her arms without a second thought,actually a little shocked when Katniss willingly shuffled into her embrace. Sheheld her as tight as she dared given her recent injuries, petting her hair andmurmuring empty promises that everything would be alright in the end.

Aster should never have left.

Haymitch had arranged it so she could takeleave of her duties in the medic team to care for her daughter. The doctorswere concerned with her mental state and withreasons. She had just lost her sister. And she needed someone around at alltimes precisely for this.

Effie lost all notion of time after a while.She ran out of banalities and started humming one of the rare slow songs sheliked. The humming seemed to calm the girl down so she grew bolder and sangsoftly. Eventually, Katniss’ sobs died down to hiccups but she didn’t make anyattempt to move away so Effie kept on singing and coming her fingers throughher hair.

Her dress was wet where Katniss’ cheek waspressed against her shoulder. It was brand new and delicate and now it would beruined and, for a second, she indulged in the pretending it was what was reallymaking her furious. Her pretty dress was ruined thanks to Aster Everdeen’sirresponsible behavior when she had spent too many months wearing rags. Onceupon a time, she might even have been more concerned with that than with thechild crying in her arms.

Now, though…

She would give everything for this child. For her and Peeta both. Everything shehad to give and probably even a little more.

She thought the girl had fallen asleep so shestopped singing but she didn’t dare let go of her. The headboard was hardbehind her back and she was uncomfortable. That didn’t prevent her fromdrifting off after a while though.

She wasn’t sure how long had passed before sheheard the knocks on the door immediately followed by the sound of its opening. Rude, she thought.

“Aster?” Haymitch’s voice called.

“Hush!”she retorted in a hard whisper that brought him straight to the bedroom.

Haymitch’s frown turned to a scowl when hiseyes took in the pitiful picture the girl curled up against her chest must havemade. “She took off again?”

Effie’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean again?”

Because if Aster had left Katniss alone morethan once and he hadn’t told her…

They had kept their voices low but Katnissstill shifted. Haymitch’s face softened when he met the girl’s eyes and hesighed, crossing the distance to the bed in a couple of long strides. He satdown next to Effie and gently tugged on a strand of Katniss’ hair.

“You had your medicine yet today, sweetheart?”he asked. The girl gave him a shrug that hit Effie in the ribcage. She wincedbut didn’t protest. “How about something to eat? You had that?” There wasanother dispassionate shrug and Haymitch clucked his tongue once in a tell ofirritation. “Let’s start with that, yeah? You feel like having some soup? I feel like having some soup.” His greyeyes darted up and met hers. “What do you say, Effie? Soup?”

She wasn’t hungry at all but there was awarning in his gaze that she should humor him so she smiled and used her mostcheerful tone. “Soup sounds delightful.”

“Soup it is, then.” he decided. “I’m gonnaorder it. How about you take a shower while I do that, Katniss? You’re startingto smell.”

“Haymitch!” Effie snapped, glaring at him.“This is not how you talk to a lady.”

“Nobody ever accused her of being a lady.” hesnorted.

It seemed to make the girl react at least. Shesat up and Effie was loathe to let her go but she supposed it was progress. Atleast until Katniss rubbed her face and did little else. Their Mockingjay wasapathetic.

“Perhaps I could run you a bath, dear.” Effieoffered. “And I will find you some clean pajamas for when you are done.”

The girl didn’t really approve or decline thatplan but when Effie went to the bathroom and filled the bathtub, Katnissshuffled after her and awkwardly stripped down. The burns still pained her andmade it difficult for her so Effie helped her, chatting all the while to chaseany embarrassment on either part. Not that Katniss seemed to care. The proudteenager who had volunteered for her sister was gone and had only left a shadowbehind her.

She made sure the victor was settled in thebathtub before she left to corner Haymitch in the living-room part of thesuite.

“I ordered food.” he muttered before she couldsay anything. “She doesn’t eat if whoever’s with her isn’t eating too.”

“How longhas this been going on?” she growled. “And whydidn’t you tell me?”

He ran his shaking hand over his face andturned to face her, exhaustion written on his features. “’Cause I didn’t wantyou to read the riot act to her mom. Look, Aster’s not doing well…”

“Neither is her daughter.” she snapped.“Katniss was alone and upset. She shouldn’t have…”

“Preaching to the choir.” he cut her off,lifting both hands in the air. “I told Aster to call me so someone could takeover when she feels like getting some space.”

“Clearly she did not listen.” she huffed. “We cannot allow this to continue.”

“Wearen’t Katniss’ parents, sweetheart.” he retorted. “It’s not like we can justgrab her and move her to our room.” Effie’s face brightened but he cringed. “No, Effie. We can’t.”

“And why not?” she countered.

He smirked but it was more bitter than amused.“Missed the part about us not being her parents?”

“What does thatmatter?” she snapped. “I would neverleave her like this. She barely gotout of this war alive. She has just been released and… She needs someone trustworthy to watch over her. I willnot fail this girl, Haymitch, I will not.”

He stared at her for a long time and thenaverted his eyes. “Maybe… I can ask Plutarch about moving them next to oursuite. Would be easier.”

“Very well. Do that.” she nodded. “And keep her mother away from me because I amafraid I cannot answer for mybehavior.”

She turned on her heels and would have marchedstraight back to Katniss’ bathroom if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist. She frownedat him but relaxed when he simply placed a brief kiss on her lips.

“It’s really hot when you go all tiger mama,Princess.” he teased.

She huffed and puffed and huffed again, givinghim a glance over before striding out of the room with a new spring to hersteps. That man was ridiculous. Listening to him you would think they hadn’tbeen doing this for years.

Tiger mama.

She didn’t mind the comparison.

She certainly felt ferocious when her victorswere concerned.