#Coming Clean

[kylievershion]

I have finally chosen to come clean about what happened.

Trigger warnings are in the doc.

They can not silence me anymore.

[allisluv]

COMING CLEAN

chapter thirteen -- poison fog

pairing: finnick odair x fem!oc

content warnings: concussions, disassociation, teasing, sexual jokes and innuendos, sweet finn and dahlia moments!!, nicknames and pet names, gore, blood, angst, death, burning, miscommunication (?), not being able to tell what's real, mercy kill (im sorry in advance yall).

word count: 4.8k

previous chapter -- next chapter.

Dahlia always finds it harder to keep a grip on reality in the evenings and tonight is no exception. Her concussion isn't helping matters and it takes every ounce of willpower she possesses to stop herself from falling asleep.

Mags has curled up in a ball like a cat, her chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, and both Peeta and Wyatt are snoring like trucks. Katniss is as alert as be damned, refusing to do so much as to even close her eyes.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Finnick asks, knocking his shoulder into Dahlia's. He frowns when she recoils away from his touch. She's never done that before, and it makes him wonder if he's done something wrong. "You okay, honey?" She nods her head, eyes unfocused as she stares off into the distance. "Dahlia."

Her head snaps to the side so fast he thinks she gave herself whiplash. "Huh?"

"I asked if you were okay," Finnick says slowly, brows knitting together and causing the skin on his forehead to criss-cross with worry lines. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?" He asks, itching to reach out and tilt her head towards him, but knowing that she probably won't appreciate it given her previous reaction. "Talk to me."

Dahlia worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "Just... thinking," she says, lifting her shoulders up into a shrug.

"Anything you wanna share?" Finnick teases, tilting his head to one side in an effort to catch her attention. She doesn't blink, and he starts to worry that it's a side effect of her concussion. "I'm serious, honey, are you okay? Do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine," Dahlia insists. "You worry too much, Finn," she says, turning to look at him. He smirks, and she glares at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He chuckles under his breath. "You called me Finn," he sings, watching as her face crumbles and the blood rushes to her cheeks. "In all the time I've known you, honey, you've never gave me the privilege of a nickname."

She ducks her head to hide the colour in her face. "I call you an asshole," she supplies, trying to sway him into a different conversation altogether. "Surely that counts for something."

"You're deflecting!" He points an accusing finger at her and breathes out a laugh. "Oh my God, you're blushing! You're embarrassed!" He wears a shit-eating grin and before Dahlia has time to catch the thought and question it, she wonders if kissing him would make his ego inflate more or less. "Don't worry, honey. Personally, I think you should start calling me it more often. I mean, its really doing something for me here."

She snorts indignantly. "You're an animal. An actual animal."

Panem's national anthem sounds throughout speakers hidden around the arena and the fallen eight tributes are shown on a hologram high in the sky. Mags and the others stir from their sleep, tossing and turning as they push themselves up onto their elbows to peer up at the night sky. The anthem ends, and the hologram fizzles out.

"There's sixteen of us left," Peeta announces, voice quiet and laced with tiredness. He rests his head on Katniss' shoulder, eyes fluttering shut once more before the steady sound of beeping brings him back to reality. He groans, and stands to his feet, dragging his prosthetic leg behind him as they all move to crowd around the small parachute that has landed on the mossy jungle floor.

No one moves to open it, so Katniss takes matters into her own hands. She hastily rips open the  packaging and reads the paper note aloud. "Drink up? It's from Haymitch."

"What is it?" Finnick wonders aloud, cocking his head to one side as he tries to study the small, metal object in Katniss' hands. "You can't fish with it, anyway. I've never seen that before in my life and trust me, being from four, I would have seen it if it had anything to do with catching fish for food."

"I think it's a spile," Katniss practically trips over her own two feet as she rushes to a nearby tree, throwing an explanation over her shoulder as she uses the jagged edge of a rock to dig the spile into the trunk. "It's kind of like a faucet. You put it in a tree and sap comes out."

"Sap?" Wyatt sounds bewildered. They don't have many trees in District Nine, and the few they do have wouldn't be the same ones that Katniss is referring to. "What the fuck is sap?"

"It's kind of like honey," Peeta answers as they crouch down beside Katniss and the tree. "You use it to make syrup. There must be water inside of these trees." He says excitedly. "Come on," he mutters under his breath, hoping to anybody who's listening that they haven't gotten their hopes up for nothing.

Just as they are starting to wonder if they've made a mistake and gotten this completely wrong, a trickle of water pours out of the spile, soaking the moss beneath their feet.

Dahlia could quiet literally sob her heart out at the sight of fresh water. She paces as she waits her turn, letting the others drink their fill before stepping near it herself. Ducking her head, she gulps back the water, feeling it soothe her scratchy throat.

It's warmer than any of them would have liked but beggars can't be choosers, and right now, the group of them would drain a bottle of damn bleach if it meant having something to drink. Mags is too fragile and old to bend, so Finnick instructs her to sit down and pours some water into a large leaf, using it as a bowl for her to drink out of.

Without their thirst to distract them, exhaustion takes over. Peeta is the first to fall asleep and both Mags and Wyatt follow soon after. Katniss reluctantly dozes off after an hour, head resting against Peeta's shoulder, and within a matter of minutes, they are tangled together like koalas, clinging to each other.

Everyone sleeps through a bell tolling twelve times and then a lightning storm on the far side of the arena and Dahlia can't help but wonder if they would sleep through a tornado, too.

Dahlia keeps her sickles firmly grasped in her hands as she and Finnick sit silently side by side, using a tall tree with long leaves to protect them from the weather, because despite it being the night time and the sun having gone away long ago, the air is still stuffy and humid.

Finnick convinces Dahlia to play twenty questions with him, but he's yawning after ten minutes. "Go to sleep," she instructs, coaxing him into resting his head in her lap. He resists, and she fixes him with a glare. "Don't be stubborn. You're clearly tired."

"And you have a concussion," Finnick retorts, cracking his knuckles one by one. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Dahlia says, refusing to give up. "Just lie down on my lap. I'm not going to bite."

"What if I'm into that kind of thing?" Finnick grins, trying to play it off with humour to hide how afraid he is of being vulnerable with someone. Even though it's something as simple as laying in someone's lap, it sends him into panic mode.

Dahlia cocks her head to one side, studying his face. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Finn. I'm not going to hurt you," she coaxes, watching as his shoulders sag ever so slightly, the tension his muscles hold dissipating. She sucks in a deep breath before taking a big step out of her comfort zone. "Baby, just lie down. I'm not gonna stop irritating you until you get some sleep."

His expression softens and Dahlia steels herself for his resistance. It never comes. Instead, he lies his head in her lap, using her thighs as pillows, and tucks his hands under his head. "Wake me up when you get tired, yeah?"

Dahlia's so taken aback by his willingness to trust her that all she can do is nod her head like a damn fool, and mutter a quiet, "Okay."

His body is taught with tension, clearly feeling out of his comfort zone as much as she's feeling out of hers. She smooths his golden curls out of his eyes, and he melts into her touch, allowing himself to take that leap of faith and place his trust in someone for the first time in his life. Blunt fingernails scratch at his scalp and he sighs contentedly, letting his eyes flutter shut.

A tiny smile pulls at the corners of Dahlia's lips. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear her over the sound of the wildlife in the jungle. "You can go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."

It seems that her reassurance is all he needs to hear, because he drifts off quickly, his chest rising and falling with soft breaths. She continues to smooth his hair back out of his face and comb her fingers through his golden locks.

She can't help but think how nice it would be for him to lie in her lap more often, but then her mind involuntarily takes her back to nights spent with Capitol men, and she shakes the idea out of her head. Sure, Finnick might be nice, but some of those men were nice, too, and it didn't turn out well in the long run.

A situation like this could only end one way and that was with Dahlia hurt and alone.

She refused to put herself through that agony again. She wouldn't let herself grow fond of him, even if deep down, she wanted to. It wasn't an option. It wasn't in the rules she had set out for herself. It was the one protocol she refused to break; falling in love.

Her head runs at a million miles a minute. She thinks of all the things that could go wrong if she let herself get attached to him. She could let him in, and he could break her heart, or worse, use her secrets against her. Her breathing grows fast and she has to consciously remind herself that she's catastrophising.

Bloom would tell her that she doesn't have a magic wand and can't see the future. Malaki would make her a cup of chamomile tea and sit her down in front of the roaring fire. Juniper would tell her she can't miss out on the opportunity of falling in love because she's scared, and in her head she tells Juniper to leave her alone, only because she knows she's telling the truth.

Minutes stretch into hours and there's no sound apart from the occasional gasp of air as Katniss wakes up and panics, only relaxing when her eyes lock onto Peeta snoring peacefully next to her. Dahlia watches this happen three or four times, and each time Katniss wakes, she whispers that it's okay. Katniss glares at her, but there's no malice behind her gaze, just distrust, which she can not be blamed for.

Dahlia narrows her eyes when she catches sight of a fog rolling in, and Katniss follows her line of sight. It's quick, much too quick to be caused by the weather, and Dahlia doesn't trust it. It's not natural, and it looks too thick, almost like the clouds have fallen from the sky.

Katniss outstretches her hand warily. Her fingertips barely graze the fog, but it's enough. With a guttural scream, she pulls her hand back, writhing on the floor and yelling out in pain. Although Dahlia is a few inches away, she can hear the sizzling of Katniss' skin as it blisters and boils.

Katniss starts to shake Peeta awake, shouting a warning over her shoulder to the others. "Run! The fog is poison! Run!" 

Dahlia shakes Finnick awake and he shoots up iron-rod straight as if he's been poked in the back with a hot poker. "What's going on?" His eyes latch onto hers as he snatches his trident up, ready for battle.

"Run!" Dahlia screams as Wyatt helps him with Mags. She runs towards the fog, looping her arm through Peeta's, who's not able to run as fast as the others; he's still only getting adjusted to his prosthetic leg and the aftereffects of hitting the forcefield are showing. Katniss accepts her help gratefully for once, and between the two of them, they propel him through the jungle.

He trips over vines and branches, and the two girls are practically carrying him as the wall of fog gains ground on them. The mist extends further than the fog and latches onto their skin, burning like tiny flames. Peeta falls once more and stays down as the fog causes boils to show up all over the side of his face.

Dahlia slips, grabbing him by the hand and yelping when her skin touches the fog. Katniss failed to mention just how badly it stings, and she wants to wring Plutarch's neck for putting them into this situation. Finnick and Wyatt scream in the distance and despite all of her instincts telling her to move for them, she can't leave Katniss and Peeta alone. "C'mon. You can do it. Just follow our steps," she says, dragging him to his feet and not giving him much of a choice in the matter.

The blisters seem to have weighed him down some more and they're moving at a slower, stickier pace than before, which is definitely saying something. They trip once more and Dahlia's head is so sore that she stays down, hoping the fog will just take her, hoping that it won't be painful.

Wyatt slows to a stop beside them, skidding and slipping in the mud with Finnick and Mags right behind him. He gently taps Dahlia on the side of the face until her eyes open. "Don't think about it," he warns, hoisting her onto her feet and watching as she slips and falls again. He turns to the others. "She can't walk on her own. She's not even meant to be exerting herself."

"I can't carry Peeta," Katniss says, eyes prickling with tears. "I can't do it."

Finnick looks between Katniss and Peeta, at a loss. Mags hauls herself up, pats Finnick on the shoulder and plants a kiss on his cheek. "Mags?" He shouts as she heads straight for the fog. It takes both Katniss and Wyatt to hold him back from going after her. The canon sounds as he lets out another desperate plea of her name. "Mags!"

"We have to go," Katniss begs. "We have got to get out of here."

"She's right, Finnick," Wyatt says, lifting Dahlia over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. "I'm so sorry, but we have to keep moving. You understand that?"

Finnick sucks in a deep breath and loops one arm around Peeta's waist, while Katniss does the same to his other side. Time loses all sense of purpose as they bolt through the jungle, losing their balance and falling down an embankment.

Wyatt cradles Dahlia's head in his hands, using himself as a human shield to stop her getting a worse concussion than the one she already has. He takes the brunt of the fall, gasping when he makes contact with the solid ground, winded but thankful that he's spared his district partner. 

None of them move as they wait for their imminent deaths to arrive--- but it never does.

Dahlia eventually crawls off Wyatt, lying flat on her back in the moss. She tilts her head to one side and watches as the fog condenses, pressing up against what looks like an invisible wall that pushes it back the way it came. "It's stopped," she croaks, head pounding with pain as she rolls onto her back once more.

Every bone in her body aches and the boils on the back of her neck sizzle and burn. All she wants to do is retreat into her head where it's safe and warm and nothing bad can happen, but right now, she knows she can't afford that luxury. So, instead, she stays as still as she can, and counts the number of stars in the sky to stay tied to the real world, no matter how awful the real world may be.

Katniss screams but she hasn't got the energy to turn her head and see what's happening. She closes her eyes, unable to stop her brain from shutting off. It's okay, her head tells her, just rest now.

One minute she's baking cookies with her mother and the next, Finnick's hovering over her with that worried crease between his brows. She swims in the lake with Ivy, only to find that someone is holding her underneath the water.

She immediately interprets it as a threat, thrashing about, and when she opens her mouth to scream, it achieves nothing; all she does is inhale a massive amount of saltwater. She vaguely makes out the sound of muffled shouting before she's yanked from the water, where she begins to cough up a lung.

Blindly, she reaches out and grabs hold of what feels like a rock, using it to haul herself up onto dry soil. Someone's hands are firm on her face and she lashes out, kicking and flailing about as she tries to wriggle her way out of their grasp.

"You're gonna hurt yourself," Finnick argues, voice firm but gentle as he blocks all of her attacks without breaking a sweat. "I don't want to touch you but if you keep writhing about, I'll have to."

Dahlia pries her eyes open and carefully looks up at the sound of his voice. Finnick frowns down at her, hands held out like he's approaching a frightened animal. His golden curls are flat on the top of his head from being wet and the corners of his eyes are crinkled with concern. "Stay--- just stay where you are," she warns, feeling around in the moss for her sickles and grabbing hold of them.

Hurt flashes across Finnick's face before he recovers. "Come on, now, honey, don't be stupid. I'm not going to hurt you. You know that." He takes a tentative step forward, only to find out that she is in fact, not, bluffing. She swipes with her sickles and he narrowly hops out of the way. "Honey. Calm down. You're fine."

"I don't want to do this," she pleads. "So just stay there for a minute."

Finnick nods his head reluctantly. "Alright. I won't come any closer. Just clam down, yeah?" He says, sitting on a nearby rock. "Take a breath. You're okay."

Dahlia glares at him, but there's no real heat behind her gaze. Finnick doesn't take it personally, anyway; he knows that she is just putting her walls back up because she's scared, and that's the only way she knows how to protect herself. "You tried to kill me," she snarls.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Finnick laughs incredulously. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Well, why else were you holding me under the water?" she snaps, holding out her sickle. "You better start explaining."

Finnick sighs. "The water helps with the burns from the fog."

"What fog?" Dahlia asks, mind still hazy from swapping and changing from the world in her head and the one that's real. Finnick's brows dip and it takes a minute for her to piece together what's going on. "The poison fog?"

He nods slowly, and answers with, "Yeah. Did you not notice the burns are gone?"

She looks away for a moment, making sure to keep him in her peripheral vision as her hand flies up to touch the skin of her neck. It's still sensitive and warm to touch, but there's no more lumps or boils. "I don't understand. This can't be real. This is just something I made up in my head."

"No, honey, it's real," Finnick soothes, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and wrap her in his arms. He can see the doubt in her eyes, and he sighs. "Do you remember when I promised I would tell you the truth, hm?" She hums suspiciously. "Well, I don't break my promises. This-- all of this-- is real. I swear it."

Dahlia shakily pushes herself to her feet and says, "I believe you." She can feel the others staring at her as she sits in the small creek of water. Wyatt and Peeta go to find some fresh water from a nearby tree using the spile and Katniss gathers their weapons together, leaving her and Finnick on their own.

She soaks her feet and slowly lowers herself in until she's floating on her back. It's something that Wyatt taught her to do years ago. A grounding technique, he had called it. She still doesn't really know what's that's supposed to mean, but for some reason, it works.

Finnick scoots closer to her, inch by inch, until he's sitting in the water only a few feet away from her. "You okay now?"

Dahlia stares at the sky to stop herself from having to look at him. "I'm sorry. I just.. get confused sometimes."

His tongue darts out to wet the corners of his lips. "Can I ask... why?"

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"I don't know how to explain it," she answers honestly. "I can't put it into words."

Finnick hums his acknowledgement. "That sounds hard to deal with. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Dahlia frowns. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No one's ever asked me that before," she admits.

"Ever?"

"Ever." She pauses, the words lingering on her lips as she sits up in the water. "I'm sorry about Mags. I know how much she meant to you."

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows the lump in his throat. "She was never going to make it."

"That doesn't make it hurt any less," she says gently. "I'm here, you know that, right? If you need to talk to me, I'm here. I can't promise I'll always have the answers, but I'm a good listener. Or so I've been told, anyway."

Finnick opens his mouth to thank her, but the words get caught in the back of his throat as his gaze catches on something over her shoulder. She stills, too afraid to move in fear of what he's looking at. Neither of them speak as they reach for their weapons at the side of the creek, and that's when Dahlia sees it.

Heavy creatures balance on branches in the trees, tufts of orange fur sticking up in all directions as if they've been electrocuted.

"Monkeys," Dahlia mutters under her breath. Finnick looks at her as if to ask how she knows. "Ivy asked for one for her birthday, but they didn't look like these ones."

Katniss quietly sneaks up on them, pressing her back against theirs to provide coverage from all angles. Her bow is loaded with two arrows, as she tells them, "They're mutts." She calls for Peeta and Wyatt, who turn around at the sound of their names, faces dropping as they see the animals surrounding them. "Walk over here slowly," Katniss instructs.

Peeta grabs the spile and his sword while Wyatt pulls a couple of daggers out of his back pocket. It's hard for Peeta to keep his steps quiet with the loud thump of his metal leg hitting against the moss, but he manages it, little by little.

"We need to get to the beach," Wyatt mutters to the others, spinning on his heel as the monkeys start to crowd in on them. One lunges for him and Dahlia rips it's head off with one swift swipe of her sickle.

The mutts are relentless with their attacks, and nobody holds back as they fight off the animals. Katniss is pushed underwater by one and Wyatt spears his dagger into it's chest, helping her up as the monkey's body goes limp. "Go! Get to the beach!"

Despite the beach growing closer and closer the further they run, the mutts are gaining ground on them, and fast. Dahlia screams in pain when one sinks it's claws into her leg and kicks it full force in the face. She hobbles towards the beach, swiping and hitting out with her sickles, letting out all of the rage she's kept bottled up for years on end.

They are mere metres from the beach when it happens; a mutt has Peeta pinned against a tree, ready to make one final blow, when a camouflaged morphling from Six jumps out of her hiding spot in the treeline, allowing the monkey to sink it's claws into her chest.

Peeta gasps and sinks his sword into the monkey's back, tossing it off the morphling. Between him and Katniss, they manage to carry her to the oceanfront, while Dahlia, Finnick and Wyatt try to hold off their attackers.

As they reach the beach, Dahlia turns her back for a split second to make sure they haven't left anyone behind.

A split second is all it takes.

Wyatt starts to scream bloody murder, and then it dies out into nothing but a dull whimper.

She turns back around.

Three monkeys have pounced on him, pinning him to the ground, sinking their claws into him over and over and over and over again.

A scream tears out of Dahlia's throat as she rushes to his side, using her sickles to slash at the monkeys and pushing them off of him like they weigh nothing. The monkeys snarl at her as she grabs Wyatt under the arms and starts dragging him across the sand, leaving a streak of crimson in his wake.

Dahlia sets him down gently on his back, trying her hardest not to panic when she catches sight of the blood seeping from his stomach and neck. "Oh God," she cries, hands tremoring violently as she tries to stem the bleeding.

Wyatt tries to speak, but only a gurgled sound comes out, followed by a trickle of red. "It hurts," he manages to choke out.

Dahlia starts to sob as she grabs his hand. "I know. I know, but you'll be fine. You hear me, it's going to be okay."

"Kill me."

Dahlia's blood runs cold. "What?"

"Kill me. Put me out of my misery."

Her voice shakes. "No." Finnick's at her side, a reassuring hand on her back. She can barely feel it. "No. I can't-- I won't!"

"If you don't do it, I'll do it myself," Wyatt reaches for a dagger and Dahlia tosses it into the sea. He grabs hold of the front of her wetsuit. "I'm begging you."

"You can't ask me to do that," she sobs, chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. "You can't ask me to do that. It's not fair! I won't. I won't!"

Wyatt frowns, tears trickling down his face. "Please, Dahlia. Please. I'm scared."

Dahlia hunches over, screaming and crying as Finnick tries to coax her into his arms.  "Close your eyes." She begs.

"What?"

"I can't do it if you're looking at me. I can't."

"I don't want to see the dark," Wyatt gasps. "I don't want the last thing I see to be darkness."

Dahlia wants to be sick. But she has to stay strong. If not for herself, for Wyatt. "It's okay. I'm gonna be right here with you, holding your hand." She intertwines their fingers together and he lets his eyes flutter shut. A tear rolls down his cheeks. "You see that light? You see it?"

"I see it," Wyatt whispers. "I see it."

"You're gonna follow it for me, okay?" She muffles a sob into her hand as she raises her sickle and presses the sharp end into his throat. He breathes out a sigh of relief and she nearly keels over at the sound. "I need you to follow the light, yeah? It'll be okay. The light will take care of you."

"Okay," Wyatt murmurs, brows knitted together as if he really can see the light.

"It's going to be okay." Dahlia repeats. "Okay?"

"Okay."

The canon sounds, he goes limp in her arms, and Dahlia bolts up the beach.

[greenzilla4]

Hey chat. Gonna get a bit serious on a scheduled post here.

My friends have been bugging me on and on about my identity for a while now. Sure, I've known that gender doesn't really matter to me, I identify as a masculine thing, idk.

But the concern is about this "coming out party" Red said he was planning (I know via a note he left me) I just wanted to clear up that I haven't come out yet, so there is no reason for a party.

However. I really like parties, and don't want there to be a coming out party without a coming out- so I think it's time to come clean about this...

I'm not completely straight.

Are you kidding- real fans know I dont have anything to come out about. April fools, you idiot.

Have some cake.

(To the face.)

[one-awesome-beetle]

she/he/they sherlock what do we think chat

[deadbodiesevery-where]

Happy Pride Month from me, Coming Clean, and King for a Day by Green Day 🫶🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[stewdoesthings]

My least favorite song is Justice for Tulsa

[fadeintoyou19]

[punktransmascfreakweirdo]

You guys know what’s funny to me?

All my favorite transmasc coded lyrics are by bands who aren’t transmasc

Said lyrics are:

“Found out what it takes to be a man, mom and dad will never understand” - Coming Clean / Green Day

“Daddy’s little girl ain’t a girl no more” - Negative Creep / Nirvana

These are the only ones I could think of off the top of my head but honestly I’d love it if people reblogged this with more lyrics

[mi-co-uk]

I'm very curious

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Green Day - Coming Clean

[allisluv]

COMING CLEAN

chapter sixteen -- sitting ducks

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!oc

content warnings: dissosciation, flirting, mild sexual content but nothing explicit, johanna being a cockblock, use of pet names, blood, gore.

word count: 4.3k words

previous chapter -- next chapter

Finnick is back to his usual self in a couple of hours, and in an effort to pass time, has resorted to throwing pebbles at Johanna every time she isn't facing him. Katniss and Peeta broke off from the rest of the group the second the plan was put in place, and their whispering has died down, which probably has something to do with the fact that their tongues are so far down each other's throats that it would be impossible for them to talk, even if they wanted to.

Beetee keeps trying to make small talk with Dahlia but she's crawled so far in her own head that it is almost impossible to catch her attention.

Finnick picks up on the shift in her mood almost immediately and silently persuades her to sit away from the others and lay her head in his lap for a while. She doesn't need much coaxing, anyway, and he gently runs his fingers through her dark strands of hair as she stares off into the distance with that blank, far-away look on her face.

It takes a while for Dahlia to come back from District Nine— or at least from the version of home that she's conjured up in her head— and Finnick smiles softly when she returns to the real world. "You with me?" He muses.

Dahlia blinks herself out of her daze, and her eyes start to refocus again. She hums affirmatively, but makes no move to get up. Finnick doesn't expect her to, (and part of him doesn't want her to, either).

He continues to comb his fingers through her hair as he says, "Can I ask you something, honey?"

She doesn't tear her eyes away from the waves lapping against the sand, but she nods her head, anyway. "Yeah. Shoot."

His tongue darts out to wet the edges of his lips, and he's mindful to choose his words carefully. "Where do you... like, where do you... go when you disappear like that?" She stays quiet, and he is quick to elaborate. "I'm not trying to pry, it's just... it's like your eyes get this lifeless look in them and it just makes me wonder what you're seeing, you know?"

The slender column of her throat works as she swallows around the lump in her throat. "You'll think I'm crazy."

He scoffs, and raises a disbelieving brow as if the idea alone is incredulous. "Try me." He says, and she can see the unwavering determination in his gaze when she shifts in his lap to face him.

"Why?" She blurts out, before clarifying where her train of thought had drifted to. "Why do you care, I mean."

He isn't deterred by the bluntness of her question. Not only has he grown used to it by now, but it's also one of the many things he finds endearing about her. He gives a strand of her hair a sharp but playful tug. "Because, believe it or not, Dahlia, I care about you." Shaking his head fondly, he tells her, "And I already know that pretty little brain of yours is working overtime in an effort to figure out what my ulterior motive is, but I haven't got one."

Her brows furrow and she juts her bottom lip out into a pout. "How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"What I was thinking."

He laughs and smooths out the crease between her brows with his thumb. "Because I know you." He replies with a soft shrug, almost as if its the most obvious thing in the world. "Now, you gonna answer me or not, hm?"

Dahlia shifts in his lap so she can watch the sea again. "You'll think I'm crazy."

He rolls his eyes fondly. "You've already said that, baby. And, like I said, I promise I'm not gonna think you're crazy, no matter what you say, okay?"

She sighs, weighing up her options. He waits patiently and then she starts to explain.

"After my games, I made up this world in my head. A world where my mom and my dad were still alive and nothing bad had happened and the games didn't exist and everything was normal and I was who I was before the games. When I was the person that people could stand to be around."

"The doctors in the Capitol say it's a form of dissociation. It's a way for my brain to protect me, to cope with all of the trauma, apparently. So, whenever I'm overwhelmed or stressed or scared or... well, anything, really, I retreat back into that world in my head."

Finnick listens intently and continues to card his fingers through her hair as a silent remind that he's still there with her. She finishes explaining and he stays quiet for a minute, absorbing every word she's just said. "I get that."

The words have no sooner left his lips and he feels some of the tension melt away from her body.

"Is there... anything I can do to help? Like for arguments sake, what happens if we're somewhere like here, in the arena, in a life threatening situation, and you go away? What can I do to help bring you back?"

Dahlia's lips tug downwards into a frown as she thinks his question over in her head.

No one has ever cared enough to ask that before.

She turns to face him again, and her heart melts at the fondness in his eyes. "Touch. It helps to ground me. To remind me that I'm real, you know? Tight hugs help, too."

Finnick nods, tucking that information away safe in his head. "Tight hugs, okay, got it." He runs his fingers through her hair. "And for the record?"

"Hm?"

"I think you're the only person in this fucked up world that I can stand to be around. So, try not to fret about people liking you or whatever. You'll find you really are a likeable person."

"Even with all the bitchiness?"

"Especially with all the bitchiness."

"Flirt."

"Sue me."

He wants to ask more, but he knows that their conversation is being shown to every living soul in Panem, and he doesn't wish to put her vulnerabilities on show like that. Instead, he keeps it light-hearted. "What do you think everyone back home are doing right now?"

She thinks for a second before a smile tugs at the corner of her chapped lips. "I reckon my sister, Ivy, is trying not to claw her eyes out right about now."

With a lifted eyebrow, he asks, "And why's that?"

"She thinks relationships are sappy, and seeing us all loved up like this is definitely making her feel ill right about now."

"And the mentors?"

"Oh, June is absolutely annoying the living daylights out of poor Haymitch. If he hadn't turned to drink all those years ago, he definitely has now."

Finnick laughs, and it's a real, genuine laugh that makes Dahlia's heart do a flip in her chest.

She straightens up, subconsciously mirroring his body language as she sits cross-legged opposite him in the sand. "Wanna play twenty questions?" Finnick laughs again, and a ripple of pride flows through her chest at knowing that she's the one who was able to pull that sound from him. Jutting out her bottom lip, she huffs out a sigh. "What? I'm bored!"

He arches an eyebrow. "Are you pouting?"

"No."

"Liar."

"So what?"

"You're such a child sometimes," he leans in, and they're so close that their noses are practically brushing.

Her heart thrums hard in her chest. "Careful."

"Or what?"

"If you kiss me after calling me a child, that makes you a paedophile." She blurts out.

He bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and his warm breath tickles against the nape of her neck when he drops his head. Pressing a soft kiss to the column of her throat, he can feel her pulse jump from where his lips are positioned on her neck. "Eager, are we?" He grins against her skin, and presses another kiss to her pulse point.

"Asshole," she grumbles, tangling her fingers in his golden curls and unlatching his mouth from her neck. He whines at the loss of contact and she subtly squeezes her thighs together. "Come on. If you're gonna kiss me, it's not gonna be in the damn arena, alright?"

"But what if we die in here?" He pouts.

"Gee, thanks for that."

He chuckles, and lifts his hand to graze her cheekbone. "I'm a patient man, honey. You can tease, but I can wait."

A shiver runs down the length of her spine at his touch, and she scoffs to cover it up. "Go on then. Wait."

"I will."

"Good."

"Fine." He waits approximately two seconds before huffing out a sigh. "This is excruciating."

Dahlia throws her head back in a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Yes!"

A retching sound from behind them catches their attention, and they turn to see Johanna with her finger down her throat as she pretends to gag. Once she's sure they're aware of her presence, she places her hands on her hips instead. "Sorry. Am I interrupting?"

Dahlia rolls her eyes. "Yes."

"Is she? I thought I had to wait," Finnick teases.

"Oh, piss off."

"So I don't have to wait? Make up your mind, honey." He winces when Dahlia whacks him around the back of the head.

Johanna clears her throat loudly. "You two are worse than Katniss and Peeta, I swear."

"Did you want something?" Dahlia huffs out through a sigh.

"Yes, actually. It's getting dark, and if we want this plan to work, we've got to get to that tree. So, come on." Johanna clicks her fingers at them, and proceeds to tap her foot impatiently in the damp sand until they're both on their feet. "Do I need to keep the two of you separated like children or can you keep your hands to yourselves until we pick the Careers off?"

Finnick sucks his teeth. "Ah, I dunno." He turns to Dahlia, and the mischievous glint in his green eyes tells her that what comes out of his mouth next is going to be nothing short of crude. "If only we had those handcuffs from my room. You know, the ones—"

"You, my friend, are threading on mighty thin ice," Dahlia snipes, smacking him around the back of the head for the second time in the span of what must be less than a minute. He chuckles under his breath and mutters something that she can't quite make out. "Now, let's get a move on. I want this over with already."

"Yes, ma'am."

˚＊✿❀༓❀✿＊˚

Despite the coolness that the evening breeze provides them with, it is still heavy with heat, and it doesn't take long for everybody's breaths to come out in short, laboured pants. Although they are on somewhat of a time crunch, they don't rush through the jungle.

They're about three quarters of the way to their destination when the sky lights up and the Panem national anthem bursts through the speakers hidden amongst the treetops. Slowly, they stop and watch as the fallen tributes are shown on a hologram in the air.

Mags' face is projected into the sky. Finnick's eyes flutter shut and his lashes kiss his cheekbones. He swallows the lump in his throat and finally opens his eyes when he feels a calloused, cool palm slide into his own.

Dahlia squeezes once, then twice, and three times for good measure. She meets his eye and takes a tentative step closer to him until their shoulders are brushing.

It isn't much, but it's something, and he's grateful for that.

When Wyatt's picture is shown, Finnick slides up behind Dahlia, and embraces her with his arms around her waist. He rests his sharp chin on her shoulder and keeps his grip firm to stop her from slipping away.

Katniss shoots them a quizzical look, head tilted to one side like a confused puppy, but she keeps her mouth shut in fear of saying the wrong thing and messing up whatever they have going on.

Dahlia starts to get a grip on her surroundings with Wyatt's picture gone and she reaches down to squeeze Finnick's hand, silently telling him that she's alright now. She feels him let out a relieved breath against her neck, and he straightens up to press a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

The anthem flourishes with its final notes and ends abruptly, the faces disappearing with them. Nobody moves. Instead, they just wait, but what for, they don't know.

Beetee is the first to speak as he says, "We should keep moving. We don't want this going wrong."

Peeta nods his head in agreement. "Come on. We're almost there, anyway. Not much farther."

The sound of their heavy breathing fills the air as they move stealthily through the jungle, tufts of moss flattening out underneath their feet. Finnick absentmindedly uses his free hand to reach for Dahlia's as they walk, and she obliges with ease.

It's odd; ever since her very first run-in with Capitol clients, she has shuddered at the thought of physical contact. So, walking with her hand in his feels odd. She supposes that should be expected, given that this is the first time in what must be years that she hasn't felt under threat when being exposed to something as simple as hand-holding.

It's not bad.

In fact, it's oddly soothing.

It's different with Finnick.

Everything is different with Finnick.

And she can't figure out why.

As they near the lightning tree, Beetee moves ahead of the rest of the group and starts to wind the thin coil of wire around the thick trunk, and by the time they reach him, he's made commendable progress. "Minimal charring. It's an impressive conductor."

"We'll take your word for it," Dahlia says as she leans down on the opposite side of the tree trunk to help him wrap the wire around. Johanna follows suit until the three of them are huddled around the lightning tree.

Beetee offers them both a grateful smile, and explains as they work. "Typically a lightning strike contains five billion joules of energy. We don't wanna be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits." After a minute of securing the wire around the trunk, he hands Katniss the coil of wire. "Here. You two girls take this," he says, gesturing to her and Johanna. "Unspool it carefully. Make sure all of the coil is in the water. Do you understand? Then head to the tree at the two o'clock sector and the rest of us will meet you there."

"I'm gonna go with them as guard," Peeta says immediately.

Dahlia narrows her eyes slightly. She knows exactly what Peeta is saying. "You know, for someone who's been defending us to Katniss the whole entire time we've been in this damn arena, you sure have changed your tune."

Peeta ducks his head to hide the guilty expression on his face before straightening back up, and his voice is firm when he speaks. "No. I need to go with Katniss."

"There are two Careers still out there. I need at the very least two guards." Beetee pushes his thick framed glasses up on the bridge of his nose to stop them from falling off of his face.

"Then keep Dahlia and Finnick. But I'm going with them."

"Why can't Peeta and I take the coil and the rest of you stay with Beetee?" Katniss interjects, dark eyes narrowed with barely-concealed suspicion.

Beetee lets out a small scoff. "You all agreed to keep me safe until midnight, correct?" He tilts his head to one side, and it's the only thing that betrays his lack of patience.

"It's his plan. We all agreed to it," Johanna snaps angrily.

Finnick, who had been mindlessly twirling his trident around in his fingertips until now, perks up at the sudden tension. He absentmindedly shifts closer to Dahlia's side as he asks, "Do we have a problem here?"

"Good question," Dahlia chimes in.

For all of her faults, Katniss knows when she's outnumbered, and with a stubborn little shake of her head, she says, "No. No problem." She closes the distance between herself and Peeta, before kissing him softly. Their lips move in tandem before she pulls away and whispers, "I'll see you at midnight."

And with that, she and Johanna disappear into the dark depths of the jungle, with the wire trailing in the moss behind them.

Peeta looks crestfallen as he stares longingly after Katniss, and eventually, he sits down on a log by the tree as they wait like sitting ducks.

Dahlia wants to comfort him, to reach out and tell him that it will be okay, but she's too caught up in trying to stay tied to the present. Right now, cheering him up is the bottom of her priority list. It doesn't take long for her tremors to kick in, and when her head starts to spin and she begins to get dizzy, she sits down at the base of a tree, away from the others.

Finnick crouches down beside her with a leaf full of water. "Drink. It might help," he suggests.

Dahlia's first instinct is to grow defensive and tell him that it doesn't work like that, but she holds her tongue and lets him tip the water from the leaf into her open mouth. She wipes away the extra liquid with the back of her hand and offers him a weak, tight-lipped smile. "Thanks."

Finnick nods and sinks down onto the moss beside her. "You're welcome." He lets them lapse into a comfortable silence until his knee starts to bounce, a sure-fire sign of his growing restlessness. "If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you wanna be?"

Dahlia arches an amused brow, but doesn't say anything; she's grown used to his odd questions when it gets quiet by now. She absentmindedly traces the jagged, sharp edge of her sickle with her pointer finger. "Anywhere, huh?"

"Anywhere."

Dahlia hums thoughtfully before lifting her shoulders up into a shrug. "Candy shop." He chuckles underneath his breath and she elbows him in the ribcage. "Hey! I'm fucking starving." Slowly but surely, his laughter dies down and she smiles to herself. "I would want it to be back home in nine, though. Not in the Capitol. I mean, I don't know how the logistics of that would work, considering I had never seen a sweet shop until I won, but that's where I'd want to be. What about you?"

"It's cliche, but I miss the beach. Like, I know there's a beach here, but it doesn't feel the same."

"Maybe because we're fighting for our lives?" Dahlia suggests.

"Maybe," He agrees through a laugh. "But even the sand and the ocean didn't feel the same. Back home in Four, we have this warm, golden sand, and the water is cool but not freezing." She smiles as his eyes glimmer with nostalgia. "You'd like it."

"You think so?"

"I should've taken you there. You know, when I had the chance," He jokes.

Dahlia shakes her head with a chuckle. "I'd have liked that." She admits quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Her gaze meet his, and for the briefest of moments, she swears her heart stops in her chest. His eyes flicker to her lips for a split second, and Dahlia's stomach does a flip. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she hesitates before leaning in a bit closer. Finnick mirrors her movements.

A loud SNAPpulls them out of their moment, and Dahlia mentally curses the heavens as she turns to see what the noise was. Brown brows furrowed, she tilts her head to one side as she watches the spool of wire spring back towards the tree.

"That's not a good sign," Finnick mutters as he stands to his feet, pulling her up with him, both of their senses on high alert.

Dahlia tightens her grip on her sickles as realisation dawns on her and a pool of dread forms in her stomach. "Katniss and Johanna," She murmurs, and before Finnick can stop her, she takes off in the direction that the wire had sprung from.

Her feet thud against the moss as she runs, heart hammering against the bones of her ribs as she faintly registers the sound of Finnick following behind her. He's light on his feet, which makes it harder to hear which direction he's coming from.

Before she can turn around to find out, a dagger lodges itself into the skin of her shoulder, barely missing her heart. She drops to the floor, slipping and sliding down a slope, sickle in one hand and her other bracing her head for an inevitable impact. She grunts as she slows to a stop.

Finnick's on her in seconds, hovering over her and slapping a hand over her mouth in an effort to keep her quiet. "Shhh," he mutters, straddling her waist and leaning his body weight on her in an effort to keep her down. In the distance, she can make out Enobaria cursing before admitting that she's lost them, and retreating away from their hiding spot.

Once he's certain that Enobaria's well and truly out of earshot, he yanks the dagger out of Dahlias shoulder without so much as a warning. His hand muffles her yelp of pain and he soothes her with a gentle caress to her cheek. "I know, I know, I'm sorry."

He allows her a minute to recover before it's back to business; he pulls up the sleeve of her wetsuit and feels around under her skin until he locates the tracker the Capitol had inserted prior to them entering the games.

Dahlia grips his arm so tightly that he's sure her fingernails are leaving indentations. He moves his hand away from her mouth. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking out the tracker," Finnick explains. "Otherwise they'll be able to find us when..." He trails off and gives her a knowing look.

"What if they see?" Dahlia frets, eyeing the trees just outside of the bush that they are concealed in. The last thing they need is the Capitol sounding the alarm about their plan when they are so close to freedom she can practically taste it on the tip of her tongue. 

"There's none here," Finnick mutters back. "We're too low down." He gestures to the bushes that provide them with shelter. "Shouldn't be able to hear us, either, but don't quote me on that." His breathing is heavy as he hesitates with the dagger raised over the subtle bump in her skin. "This is gonna hurt."

"Just do it." Dahlia grits out.

Finnick covers her mouth again, pressing down firmly enough to muffle her cries of pain but not enough to hurt. The sound of flesh tearing rips through the air and Finnick swallows around the lump in his throat, trying not to squirm as she instinctively bites down on his hand in an effort to get him off.

Blood pours from the open wound like a gushing river. He roots around inside of it until he finds the tracker and then he snaps it in half between his fingers. His grip on Dahlia loosens, and she pants, tears stinging her eyes as she sits up on her elbows. "Give me the dagger so I can do yours."

"Already done," Finnick holds up his left arm, showcasing the wound that is scarily similar to her own. "You've got a wicked bite on you."

"Thanks?"

Finnick chuckles despite himself.  "It was a compliment."

"An odd one," Dahlia points out. He simply shrugs his shoulders. "Come on," She sighs. "Help me up. We've got to find Katniss and Johanna."

Finnick takes her arm and hauls her to her feet, keeping her steady with a hand on her lower back. Once he's sure she won't fall, he picks up his trident and watches as she gathers her sickles. "You good?" She nods. "Come on then."

With practiced ease, but a slight sway in their step from the loss of blood, they make the decision to head back to the lightning tree; Katniss and Johanna more than likely got found by the Careers, and Dahlia's logic is that Katniss will immediately go back to the last place where Peeta was.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Dahlia murmurs as they get closer, cutting vines and trampling over loose branches.

Finnick frowns and whispers back, "What do you mean?"

"Something doesn't feel right." She shakes her head. "Something bad is gonna happen."

"What are you, a psychic?" Finnick jokes, but there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Call it intuition. I don't know, it just feels—"

A canon fires, followed by Katniss' desperate screams for Peeta. Without thinking twice about the consequences of what they're doing or the scene they might walk in on, the two of them tear off in the direction of Katniss' voice, and make it to the lightning tree in what must be a record amount of time.

Dahlia lays eyes on Katniss first, and she pulls Finnick to an abrupt stop. The teenager's bow is drawn back, and an arrow is ready to fly, aimed right for them. "Katniss," Dahlia calls, breathless and dizzy. "Don't do something you'll regret."

Finnick holds his hands up in a placating gesture. "Remember who the real enemy is."

A flicker of recognition flashes in Katniss' eyes before she slowly lowers her bow. A rumble of thunder sounds overhead, and Dahlia looks up. Katniss reaches for the spool of wire on the moss near an unconscious Beetee, and wraps it around her arrow.

"Katniss, get away from that tree!" Finnick shouts.

Dahlia's feet move before her mind, and the next thing she knows,  she's running for Katniss in a desperate attempt to stop her from getting killed.

A loud bang is the last thing Dahlia hears before everything goes dark.

[missingexaltation]

There's something so giddily validating hearing an openly bisexual musician singing his funky little bi anthem to a huge crowd during pride month, and being part of the crowd having a blast by singing back.

Love you, Billie. From one bi(romantic) to another ❤️🏳️‍🌈 💙💜🩷

What a fucking night it was!

Edit: forgot about the rainbow that appeared!

[420jimmyuso]

the people’s princess 💯 how could u hate him ‼️

[psychiatricwarfare]

+ this interaction that lives rent free in my head

not sure what they figured out bc this comment was in response to themself but id like to think this made them realise that theyre bisexual too

[roscoe-me-and-this-fuckin-kid]

anyway hearing coming clean by green day live added ten years to my lifespan

[100gayicons]

Billie Joe Armstrong is considered by some music critics as one of the greatest punk rock guitarists of all time. He, Mike Dirnt and (later joined by) Tré Cool, formed the band Green Day in the late 1980s. They chose that name because of their fondness for marijuana.

With their 3rd album “Dookie” (1994), Green Day broke through into music mainstream. It sold over 60 million records worldwide. Green Day has remained one of the most popular rock bands of the 1990s and 2000s.

Armstrong is open about his sexuality. In a 1995 interview with The Advocate, Armstrong said:

“I think I've always been bisexual. I mean, it's something that I've always been interested in. I think people are born bisexual, and it's just that our parents and society kind of veer us off into this feeling of "Oh, I can't." They say it's taboo. It's ingrained in our heads that it's bad, when it's not bad at all. It's a very beautiful thing.”

He explained that the song “Coming Clean” described his acceptance of his sexuality as a 17 year old in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Armstrong also takes delight when fans at concerts sing along with the lyrics for “American Idiot”:

“Well, maybe I'm the faggot, America, i'm not a part of a redneck agenda”

American Idiot was adapted into a Broadway musical in 2009. Armstrong appeared in American Idiot in the role of St. Jimmy for two stints in late 2010 and early 2011.

Armstrong has been married to Adrienne Nesser for nearly 30 years. Together they have 3 sons.

Despite that, Armstrong hasn’t been shy about kissing his male fans and band mates on stage at concerts.