#Clove and Cato

[atefingersdagger]

I wonder how Cato felt when he opened up his backpack from the feast after Clove died. There were likely two sets of body armor in there, as the bag was meant for both of them. How did he react to seeing it after retrieving it from Thresh?

Did he take hers out first, realize it was made for her, and frantically shove it back in the pack while he got nauseous? Did he find his first and then refuse to take hers out because of the pain? Or did he hold it to his chest; material made for his district partner, in her size, and meant to fit her figure perfectly? And did he wish he was holding her again instead of just her measurements like that of snake skin or that of a ghost?

I wonder if such a thing as some impenetrable fabric broke him.

[court-of-secrets]

dude of course I like Cato from hunger games but not Jack from Fourth Wing. Maybe try giving Jack some of Cato’s redeeming qualities, for example, an evil girlfriend and a cunty attitude

[askclato]

Cato, texting Clove: Text me when you’re home safely.

Clove: I’m home dangerously.

Cato: Stop it.

Clove: I’m home lethally.

[nightmarettd]

i can't stop thinking about how practically every romantic relationship in the hunger games mirrored Everlark in history and how Everlark we're the only ones that got to be together and didn't end tragically. Lucy Gray and Snow, Haymitch and Lenore Dove, Cato and Clove (if your delusional like me an believe they're canon) and Finnick and Annie. Yet Peeta and Katniss we're the only ones that made it.

[annabananabridgers]

i think about how cato and clove were the actual star crossed lovers all the time actually

[mossyfernhugger]

if u ship clato but not hayffie what are u even doing man

[thehungergamesconfessions]

I was surprised when I learned Cato/Clove was a pairing many people genuinely supported. Like a less lucky Star Crossed Lovers. It seems to 100% be drawn from the fact that they were the only other paired District Tributes when the announcement was made.

When I read/watched THG I thought if anything Glimmer and Cato would’ve wanted to start something in different circumstances. Or they were flirting for strategy, after all only one can win.

Clove calls out to Cato because she’s a scared girl about to dies somewhere strange and not only would he be her best/only chance to not be killed by Thresh, he’s also the only thing that is of Home. Or course she wants him. It doesn’t seem inherently romantic at all, more like calling for your mother at the end.

.

[emptyartforthemind]

I don't know if anyone ever made this theory before, but what if the rule of two tributes winning in the first book of the hunger games wasn't really for Peeta and Katniss specifically? I mean, they seemed like an interesting couple to people in the capitol during the preparations for the games, but they don't really interact that much in the arena, but you know which same district couple does (and were still alive by the time this announcement was made)? Cato and Clove. It would make sense for them, if they wanted drama, these two kids were the answer, both were killing machines, which almost guaranteed they would make it far enough for it to be a possibility game makers had to analyze.

[haysplumjam]

you can hear it in the silence

part 4

an: part 4! heyyyyy back again. very conversational chapter which isn't my strong-suit (forgive me), but i promise it's for a reason!! won't make you suffer through so much of my awful dialogue next chap

tw: normal hunger games stuff, torture, violence, gun violence, gore, suicide/suicidal thoughts and actions, substance abuse

______________________________________________________________

Mags’ hands tug at her own braid and she gestures to my hair, furrowing her eyebrows. The capitol machine made it too straight when it dried it, and it’s unlike me to have it down at all. Especially at home. 

“I can’t,” I raise her my gauze wrapped hand, wiggling my fingers as quickly as I can– but still too slow. 

“I can,” Finnick rises from his chair quickly. 

“Don’t,” I shake my head, “It’s okay, I–” 

“You’re home. You’ve gotta be the real you, not their version of you.” 

I can’t tell the difference between the real me and their version of me, anymore. The real me, allegedly the soul in my body right now, is scared of the water. The real me lost her brother. Again. She almost died. She killed people. 

“Annie?” Finnick asks softly, snapping me out of my thoughts that never would’ve belonged to the me that had never left four. 

“Thank you, Finnick,” I nod my head once, staring into my lap and allowing him to braid my too-straight hair.

He never had any sisters or a mother, but tying a braid is just like tying a knot, which we learn before the alphabet at school. And he didn’t drop out until he was fourteen, so he had a lot of knot-tying practice. I manage to unknot the small piece of braided cord on my bad wrist and hand it to him as he nears what I expect to be the end.  

Mags nods her head in approval as he ties the braid off, and I finally look up from my lap as I see the docks. 

Tears fall involuntarily from my eyes and I cover my mouth as the afternoon sun beats down on the guys unloading the shellfish before the start of second shift. I know the motions as well as I know how to breathe. I used to watch dad do it for hours while I helped mama tie the flimsy ends of her perfect nets. 

“Annie,” Finnick’s hand rests on my shoulder, and I’m made aware of the gooseflesh covering my bare arms. 

“Home is hard too,” Mags says, barely whispering. 

“Pictures at the train station and then we’re done, okay?” Finnick asks. He’s not asking, but the concern in his voice makes it feel like he is. I know he genuinely cares, but the slowing of the train makes my heart beat the exact same way it did when my platform rose into the arena. The same way it did when I walked to the stage at the reaping. The same way it did when the peacekeepers showed up to the orphanage and told me about Atty. And when they showed up to the house and told me and Atty about mama. And when they showed up to the house and told mama and I about Dad. 

“Annie,” Finnick repeats.

“Pictures and we’re done,” I repeat back to him. 

The train gets slower and slower, and Finnick crouches beside me, his eyes meeting mine. “Breathe in slow for eight seconds and out for sixteen, okay?” 

The doctor that comes by the orphanage tried to teach me this once. Right after Atty died. 

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Finnick.” 

“Try,” he demands. 

And I do. 

I breathe just as Finnick tells me to until the train comes to a complete stop and my tears dry. Mags adjusted the strap of my tanktop and gives me an approving nod before stepping away from between me and the train door. 

I breathe Finnick’s way again. Caspian, Navy, and Mariana are waiting on the other side of the door. They’ll have them right in the front so the cameras can see them. They need the money the capitol will give me. I know I can’t take care of them, but I can give them money. Food. Whatever they need. 

“Ready?” Finnick asks, finger hovering over the button that will open the door to salt air and home. 

I nod my head, taking one last deep breath before he opens the door to salt air and water and a home I don’t know anymore. 

The kids are right in the front. All of the kids from the orphanage are. The capitol cameras are closer to the back, which is nice. I try to keep my breathing steady as I look through the crowd. A few of dad and mama’s old coworkers. Kids from school and the orphanage. Victors. Faces I’ve seen but don’t know. 

“Annie, how does it feel to be home?” The mayor asks, eyes not peeling away from the cameras. 

Head down, fires subdued, give them what they want. 

“Wonderful,” I answer as convincingly as I can. 

“And it’s wonderful to have you back,” he puts his arm behind my back, taking a step closer and smiling at the cameras for a photo. I muster a barely-there smile and step away from him as soon as the cameras stop flashing. 

“Thank you all for coming,” Finnick waves to the crowd, earning some cheers. 

I can’t bring myself to look the kids in the eye. I just follow him to the peacekeeper truck waiting for us beside the platform. 

“Good job,” he says as he closes the door behind me. The backseat of the truck is cramped, but it’s comforting in a way. Me him and Mags. Three killers. Three people who understand each other better than anyone else in the world will ever be able to. “Do you want to go get your things now? Or would you rather see your house first?” 

“I’ll go get them later,” I shake my head. I need time to think about what I’ll say to the kids. How I’ll apologize for letting their brother get killed. Do they hate me for it? Are they afraid of me now? Now that they’ve watched me hurt people like that? Kill people? 

“I’ll go with you,” Finnick nods. 

“I’m really okay,” I shake my head. 

“I know. I’ll still go.” 

Victor’s Village isn’t far from the train station. Probably out of convenience for the capitol people who have to trudge all the way down here from the mountains. The car begins to slow as the gate comes into view. The black iron is out of place here where everything is wood and rope. A stark reminder of who I am now. Iron, not wood. Capitol, not four. A killer, not a girl. 

“I’ll get her settled, Mags,” Finnick says as he offers his hand to the woman, helping her down from the truck. “You get some rest before dinner?” 

Mags gives FInnick a look, but eventually nods her head as we near the first house past the gate. She pulls me in for a hug before I can prepare myself, kissing me on the cheek and doing the same to Finnick, who walks her all the way to her stairs. 

She makes her hand into a fish, thumb pointing up, and wiggles it in my direction. Another gesture follows, but I don’t understand it. 

“Dinner at your house,” Finnick explains. Mags nods, and so do I, despite the fact that I want to say no. 

“Thank you, Mags,” I say as she opens her door. 

She holds her hands to her heart and nods, waving a ‘goodbye’ before closing the door behind her.

“Travel’s hard on her. Especially there,” Finnick explains, continuing down the gravel row of houses. Most of them have lights on. I know they’re in order. So Mags, then it would’ve been Reed, before he died. No lights there. Argo has a family. His lights are on, curtains wide open revealing his kids running around a living room identical to Mags’. 

“This is me,” Finnick gestures toward the ninth house in line, “and this is you.” 

He leads me up the steps to the tenth house– identical to Mags’. When he opens the front door, I realize the inside is, too. The furniture is a little different, but otherwise everything is the same. I can tell no one’s ever lived here, but I can tell by the uniquely Capitol scent that someone’s been here recently. 

“Yours is just like Mags’,” Finnick walks around the living room, shiny capitol shoes clacking against the freshly-cleaned floor. “There’s some food in the refrigerator,” he opens the refrigerator in the kitchen, revealing a glowing light inside. We had an ice chest when mama and dad were alive, but it was almost always empty. Everything we ate they brought home that day, and breakfast was always fruit or bread, which stayed on the little counter beside the window. I wonder if I’d be allowed to buy our house from the family that lives there now, or maybe we could just swap homes. They’d be happier here, I think. Two adults and four children. They’d fill the space better than me. 

“Is there anything I can get you? I know it’s a lot, but–” 

“I’m okay, thank you,” I mutter to Finnick. 

“Would you like to rest? Or we can talk about what’s next? It’s a little early for that, I know, but I want you to be prepared.” He sounds nervous. I don’t think I’d ever seen him truly nervous before the games. 

“What’s next?” I ask him, practically floating to the dining room table and taking a seat in the chair. It’s a good chair. Not too capitol. It reminds me of a nice one one of the dockmasters would have. 

Finnick sits down across from me, and I can see the worry on his face, which isn’t exactly reassuring. “You’ll be home for the next six months,” he takes a breath, “then the victory tour. You’ve seen them on television right?”

“I remember yours,” I answer, avoiding reminding him that no one east of the docks has a functional television. 

He nods, tracing a knot in the wood on the table with his calloused finger. “It’s hard, but you’ll be fine. You just read speeches from cards and go to dinners. I’ll try to warn you about the people in each district, but I don’t remember very well.” 

I feel even worse for being so angry when he was telling me about them on the train. He has good intentions. He wants me to make it through this. 

“The last stop before home is the capitol, which is a big party at the President’s mansion. It’s a lot, but we’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time, so will Mags.”

I nod my head, incredibly aware of his foot tapping against the floor. He’s nervous. 

“Thank you for being such a good mentor,” I say softly, finally meeting his eyes. 

He shakes his head, “I’m not. Mags is our mentor, I'm just your friend.” 

“You kept me alive in there, Finnick. You’ve kept me alive out here, too,” I feel tears falling down my cheeks before I can even think about why they’re there. 

“Don’t cry,” Finnick rises from his seat, leaning across the table and wiping the tears from my cheeks before gently taking my face in his hands. “Don’t. You’re home. You’re alive. I’m going to keep you as safe as I can.” 

I nod my head. 

“Do you want to rest, or do you want to talk more about what we do now?” He sits back down in his chair. 

“What do I have to do?” I ask him. I want to make sure he doesn’t  have to come back and deal with this again. With me again. Until the victory tour at least, I can be out of sight and out of mind. 

“Nothing right now,” he says, looking me dead in the eye. I can tell he’s searching for something, but I don’t know if it’s something within me or something within himself.

I look away. 

“You’ll have to have a talent before the victory tour. Something to show off for the cameras,” he sighs, “it’s silly, but they want to see you occupying your time. Do you have anything?” 

“Nets, knot tying, fishing… just real skills. Not things they’d want to see," I pull the bracelet from the end of my braid and tie one-handed knots in the small piece of cord. Something Atty taught me to do after Mama died to keep my mind busy when I couldn't help but cry.

He smiles a little, “I’ll try to figure something out. You don’t actually have to be good at it, just have to be able to talk about it.” 

I nod. 

The knock at the door disrupts the silence, and Finnick answers it before I can. 

“Just some of your things from the train,” he says, closing the door just as quickly as he opened it, placing two large bags on the kitchen counter. “I’ll let you get some rest now. Is it okay if I come back and cook dinner here in a few hours?” 

“Of course,” I nod. Something in my chest tells me not to let him leave. That there’s something waiting to hurt me in this too-capitol house. “Thank you, Finnick,” I say softly as he turns toward the door. I’m trapped in my chair, unable to move as I watch him leave. 

“I’m always here, okay? Right next door.” 

I nod my head. 

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he closes the door behind him, and I’m alone. 

When I finally rise from the chair, half of me wants to run to the door and find Finnick or Mags, but I don’t.

The bags from the train are all of the clothing they had in my car on the way back and then some. Nothing I’ll ever wear here, if I can help it. At the bottom of the larger bag, I spot a box with ‘medication’ stamped on it. I’m sure there’s something I’m meant to be doing to take care of my hand, but I don’t bother looking for any sort of instructions. I just haul the bigger bag up the stairs with my good hand, dropping it on the floor the second I cross the threshold of the bedroom on the right. I’ve always slept on the right. When Atty and I shared a bed when we were kids I was on the right. Same in the orphanage. Same in the arena, with Cove. The last time I truly slept. The other rooms are larger, but they don’t feel the same. Too much space. Too many closets and nooks and crannies for bad dreams to hide in.

The closet in the largest bedroom is full of clothes meant for me, and so is the dresser. I take my time moving them to my little room on the right, carefully examining each piece. Nothing white, which Finnick insisted to my prep team looked awful on me the second we got to the capitol, nevermind my white reaping dress. Blues, greens, and browns. I don’t mind most of it. Some of the things are pretty, even. If I can bring myself to bother Finnick again I’ll ask him how to access the money the capitol says they pay the victors. Navy would like the green clothes, and Mariana’s shoes have been too small for her since before I left. 

Once I’ve changed into linen pants and a matching shirt, I climb under the quilt in the too-soft bed. It’s early afternoon, but my body begs for sleep that I can’t allow. Not without seeing them. All of them. Atty’s sunken face haunts me every time I blink, allowing sleep would be allowing myself to feel his thin body refuse to embrace me. Allowing myself to hear the gunshot. Losing him over and over until I wake and feel the emotions of losing him again as if I haven’t already spent years mourning. 

I pull the blanket to my chest, leaning against the heavy wooden headboard and staring through the window to my left. My view is of the closed curtains of Finnick’s house and the small grove that separates us, but I can hear the ocean. I’ve spent so much of my life loving and hating it for giving and taking so much that I’m not sure which to choose, even now. 

I count stitches on quilt squares and window panes until I can’t stand the numbers swirling in my head alongside the blood and tears and heartbreak, focusing instead on a painting of a little bird across from my bed. I don’t know the type but it doesn’t matter, I find the thing comforting. I’m sure birds lose their families, too. Face challenges that test them. But at least they get to fly away from it all. Leave and go wherever they choose rather than facing the bad things again and again. This little bird gets to go rather than face Atty and Cove and Jewel and Snow. Go wherever it chooses rather than being caged in a house that will never be a home. At least my cage is beautiful. 

I rise from my bed after a long time, digging through the bag of clothes for something that’ll keep me warm enough to get rid of my perpetual gooseflesh. I swap my shirt for a heavy cable-knit sweater at the very bottom of the bag atop the medication box. Reluctantly, I remove it, placing it on my bed and attempting to sort through the pills and creams and carefully written instructions until something catches my eye. One of the pill bottles is riddled with tiny print, but in bold letters on the cap it says ‘sleep’. If it’s anything like the medication they gave me in the hospital, there will be no nightmares. No fires, no cages, no death, just emptiness. 

I set the box on the ground, rattling the bottle until two of the pills fall into my hand. I swallow them. And another for good measure, lying down in the bed and hoping for emptiness rather than anything I’m feeling now. 

[genericreader99]

Foil of Katniss and Peeta

Ok so Katniss and Peeta’s Foil are Cato and Clove. So I just wanted to give my take on how the hunger games would have ended of they had gotten to the end and the rule had been retracted.

Now before I get into this I just want to say Clato is my Roman Empire. They just stick with me, the lack of the two of them and then this moment where he comes running in to late to save her; it just gets my heart every time. I think this is because they are what Katniss and Peeta could have been they are their foil in my mind. We focus on Katniss and Peeta who are kind of putting on this front of being in love while Cato and Clove would have had to do the opposite. We see all this gentleness and hope from Katniss and Peeta’s relationship while Clato is a lack of hope. It is this brutal violence. This is what makes them stand out we get to see Katniss and Peeta devolp. We see them fall in love. While we just get to see Cato running to clove like a confession to late. This lack of moments makes their moment more impactful and feel like something is missing. It is a way to remember every one is human and these are kids in these games and that and their foiling of the main characters is what makes them stand out and show Suzanne Collins’ genius.

I think that Clove and Cato would have killed one another. Maybe they throw something at the same time or something and they just sit there both falling to the ground bleeding out. Their last breaths spent cursing each other out because they are too proud to confess because they have been raised to kill for this moment. They have not been raised to feel or god forbid act on those feelings. So they sit lying their to weak to do anything else bleeding out trying to out survive the other dying at the same moment like Quantum entanglement. The Capital can’t do anything about it because they die at the same moment and so that year has no victor.

I think this is how the hunger games would have ended if the roles were reserved because the perfect foil would have the almost opposite events occurs. They would both die instead of both living and I think that is very tragic.

Thanks for listening to my ted talk.

[atefingersdagger]

No, this Cato and Clove photo is a meme template to me. You just don't understand.

[court-of-secrets]

god, I love seeing people discover Clove and Cato as a ship, because they’re like, “oh my gosh, she called out for him and then he kneeled by her side while she died. Do you think they were together????”

and then you get to be like, “well of course!! the real question is which one of them is the psych ward patient and which one of them is the one who broke them out??”

[askclato]

Clove: What are you, five?

Cato: Yeah, five feet taller than you.

Clove:

Cato:

Clove:

Cato: Please don’t kill me.

[shece-is-sketching]

I still can’t believe I first read The Hunger Games back in 2014. Ten years. I’ve been obsessed with Clato for. TEN. YEARS

[glimmerfics]

Can you survive the Hunger Games as Clove along with Cato in this Choose-Your-Own-Adventure!?

Katniss and Peeta weren't the only starcrossed lovers in the 74th Hunger Games...

📖 Episode 1 of 3 🎮 interactive fanfic "Starcrossed" by rkwriter 🔗 link to play: https://glimmerfics.com/stories/89bfc64b-starcrossed

[fandomhighau]

Hunger Games Next Gen Characters

No war/modern world au. Finnick, Prim, Rue, Cato, & Clove live.

Characters:

Willow Mellark

Face Claim: Sarah Desjardins

Mother: Katniss Everdeen

Father: Peeta Mellark

Age:16

Notes: -archery –baking –likes the outdoors –best friends with Keitha

@ WillowM

Rye Mellark

Face Claim: Will Tudor

Mother: Katniss Everdeen

Father: Peeta Mellark

Age:14

Notes: -pastrie chef –loves outdoors –painting/art

@ Rye_Mellark

Melody Everdeen

Face Claim: China Anne Mcclain

Mother: adopted by Rue and Prim

Father: unknown

Age: 14

Notes: -loves outdoors –animals –flowers – bff’s with meadow –dance

@ MagicalMelody

Meadow Lenore Abernathy

Face Claim: Kerry Ingram

Mother: Effie Trinket

Father: Haymitch Abernathy

Age: 14

Notes: -fashion –girly girl –bffs with melody –dance

@ flowermeadow

Keitha Louella Abernathy

Face Claim: Ashley Argota

Mother: Effie Trinket

Father: Haymitch Abernathy

Age: 16

Notes: -loves the forest –hunting –archery –outdoors –best friends with Willow –daddy’s girl

@ KeithaA

Finn O'Dair

Face Claim:Alex Saxon

Mother: Annie Cresta

Father: Finnick O’dair

Age: 16

Notes: -loves the water –kind –friendly –sports –talented –prankster- friends with nextgen marauders and the dauntless boys

@ Finn_ODare

Mags O'dair

Face Claim: Chelan Simmons

Mother: Annie Cresta

Father: Finnick O’dair

Age: 14

Notes: -loves the water –swimmer

@ Maggie_O

Kingston Hawthorne

Face Claim: tanner Patrick

Mother:  Madge Undersee

Father: Gale Hawthorne

Age:17

Notes: -hunting –rebel –outdoors –leader

@ King_H

Hunter Hawthorne

Face Claim: Isaak Presley

Mother: Madge undersee

Father: Gale Hawthorne

Age: 15

Notes: -rebel –music –signer

@ HunterHawthorne

Hadley Hawthorne

Face Claim:  Hayley Pullos

Mother: Madge undersee

Father: Gale Hawthorne

Age: 15

Notes: -outdoors –hunting –kind –sometimes hangs with willow and Keitha –occasionally dances

@ HadleyH

Olivia Hadley

Face Claim: Hina Abdulla

Mother: Clove

Father: Cato Hadley

Age: 15

Notes: -rebel –harsh –determined –combat –rebellious girly girl vibes

@ Livvy_H

Cole Hadley

Face Claim: Thomas Doherty

Mother: Clove

Father: Cato Hadley

Age:16

Notes: -brat –annoying –sports –jock –draco Malfoy vibes –stuck up @ ColeHadleyRules

Andrea Mason

Face Claim: Lisseth Chavez

Mother: adopted by Johanna Mason

Father: unknown

Age: 15

Notes: -rebel –badass –combat –outdoors –forest –art

@ Andy_Mason