#HUNGER GAMES

[zeldamacgregor]

this is a wonderful take and so lovingly said. thanks for sharing it

I think the most radical thing the hunger games does is tell young people that the most revolutionary thing you can do is have unconditional love for humanity. Katniss throughout the entire series is guided by a deep sense of compassion for the people around her. It is what causes her to volunteer, to bury rue, to mercy kill cato, its why she tries to save peeta, why finnick telling her to remember who the real enemy is works, and even though her compassion for the larger world falters when peeta is kidnapped, it comes back when she visits hospitals and asks for mercy for other victors and ultimately, it is love and belief in a better humanity that makes her kill coin. Through it all, she maintains an unfaltering belief in the fundemental goodness of humanity, which is diametrically opposed to dr gaul's and snow's worldview. Peeta is even more unwaveringly compassionate

So the series tells young people that the most revolutionary thing you can be is compassionate. Let compassion drive your politics. Let yourself believe in the fundemental goodness of people. And i think that's deeply important in a world that touts the superiority of pure reason or logic, to allow yourself to be guided by something as emotional as compassion. Katniss everdeen tells us that your politics should be rooted in compassion in a world that thinks detatchment or cynicism is intelligence and i think thats v cool

[dollevve]

[katnissandpeetamellark]

Every day I cry in agony over how Sejanus’s character was reduced to cry baby rich boy in the movie

[effieotto]

Random Hunger Games headcanon

•Haymitch liked to trace the lines of Effie’s face when they were in bed to keep her in memory, because he loved her features and usually couldn’t see them properly when she was all caked up

•Katniss and Peeta had a hard time deciding which of their last names they would choose for their children. Because even though she knew that hers hold too much weight, for being forever associated with the mockingjay -and she didn’t want their kids to be associated with everything she once meant- It also represented the name shared between her, her Father and Prim, and she didn’t want to erase their memory from such a important thing in her life. So later on, Peeta suggested for them to use both of their names (Mellark-Everdeen) so the kids could decide which they would use when they got older

•When his rage had settled down and the Hummingbird Operation (along with everything else he had done during the war) had finally sink, Gale had a very ugly breakdown, while they waited for Katniss’s trial, and Haymitch was the one to pick him back up. The boy sobbed on Haymitch’s shoulder and he decided to, for once in his life, be the father the boy never had and help him through it all

•Effie Trinket had a bunny (i won’t go further, but she looks like the bunny type. So yeah, after the war she had a white fluffy bunny called Daise)

•Annie knew all those things about Gale when she wrote the letter for Katniss because, after the war, him and Johanna developed a close enough relationship and she had those informations by overhearing their conversations sometimes

•Haymitch resented Katniss a little for how blunted she had been when she asked for him to take Peeta’s place when the announcement from the Quell came out (even if he had been the one to offer it, he wished she had at least hesitated a little bit before throwing him to the wolves), and even though he had never (and would never, for countless reasons) tell her that, he always carried the feeling that she didn’t care for him as much as he cared for her, and the coldness of it hurt him badly….even if it wasn’t exactly true.

•Effie felt uneasy every time she went out with Katniss and Peeta’s daughter and a man talked to her too softly, because as much as she knew District Twelve’s citizens were warmer and that she wasn’t in the Capitol anymore, she couldn’t shake the memory of how the men usually talked to her when she was the same age, and as irrational as it goes, she didn’t want anything like what they did to her back then to happen with that little girl. So, not so politely, she would excuse them and nudge the girl to walk faster every time she gave too much attention for them

• When he got his recess from the Peacekeeper job, Gale went to District four and he and Johanna went out every Friday night to drink their sorrows away and find a easy fuck to each other -which wasn’t really an easy doing, because Gale was too shy and Johanna was too picky, but they had fun anyway-

•Even though Haymitch never enjoyed to leave District Twelve for long, he had managed to get involved in a handful of political activities for the new Panem, since President Paylor had finally decided to have some use of his limited political knowledge and strategies to help the government and the country back to its feet, with as much peace possible. He traveled once or twice per year through the Districts to help the new President with small social programs

[shesalwaysblessed]

AHHH love this 😭😂

[liyliths]

.˚𓅆࿐ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 an aot au / inspired by the hunger games

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

summary: survive. that's all you've known you're entire life - to survive. survive district 12, survive the reaping, and survive the capitol. but when you're reaped for the 98th annual hunger games alongside levi ackerman, will you seize the opportunity of rebellion when it arises? the mockingjay is singing, dear reader, please choose wisely.

“Pretty.” A voice calls from behind you, and your gaze catches the reflection of light ginger hair in the mirror. “You look pretty.” You turn around, but can’t quite come up with the right words to say. “Thanks,” you muster up, meeting the girl’s amber eyes.  “Are you ready?” The ginger tentatively asks. Judging by the dread hidden beneath her eyes, she doesn’t look like she wants to face the reaping either. “I guess so.”

pairings: levi ackerman x reader

contains: fem!reader, strangers to lovers, slow burn, hurt and comfort, semi canon compliant, character death, descriptions of blood, phycological trauma, rebellion, this is gonna hurt but be so rewarding, and any other warnings that come with aot characters/the hunger games universe

word count: 6.5k

playlist

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You've hated the capitol for as long as you can remember. You hate them for everything they've taken away from you. The people you've lost, the cruelties woven into everyday life, the way you've had to survive, and the games. The Hunger Games. Who came up with them anyway?

You know better than to ever dare say anything out loud about it.

It was all about control. After the thirteen districts were defeated in the rebellion, twelve remained. The capitol created the Hunger Games—a brutal punishment for the districts, forcing their children to fight to the death in an arena every year on the anniversary of the capitol's victory. The games are broadcast across Panem, turning slaughter into spectacle, while the people in the capitol sit comfortably with their champagne, watching children kill each other for their entertainment.

It was cruel. You hated how you couldn't do anything about it, how you couldn't save any of the innocent children sent to be slaughtered. All you could do was live with it. That's all anyone could do—and hope to hell they wouldn't be selected for the games.

You don't think the people in the capitol quite understand what the districts go through, especially in the slums of District 12. You can't remember how long it's been since you've been fending for yourself... it feels like that's how your entire life has been. All you know is survival.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, fidgeting with the collar of your blue blouse, styled with a neat beige skirt you borrowed from the mayor's daughter. Even though you've never been particularly close, a few years ago she was kind enough to offer you presentable clothing for this dreadful day every year. It became a tradition between you two.

Perhaps she pitied you, or maybe she is genuinely kind. Probably both.

The reaping was today. Today, they gather all the children from each district to their town center and draw two unlucky names from a bowl to fight to the death. You know better than to expect to see someone from twelve make it back from the games. No one in District 12 comes back.

"Pretty." A voice calls from behind you, and your gaze catches the reflection of light ginger hair in the mirror. "You look pretty."

You turn around, but can't quite come up with the right words to say.

"Thanks," you muster up, meeting the girl's amber eyes.

"Are you ready?" The ginger tentatively asks. Judging by the dread hidden beneath her eyes, she doesn't look like she wants to face the reaping either.

"I guess so."

This was the last year either of you were eligible for the games, with the cutoff age being eighteen. The final reaping you'd ever have to endure. You're not sure if that's a relief or a curse because after this, you can't put your name in for extra rations anymore.

You've put in extra entries since you were twelve for more rations, or tessare. As they've stacked up over the years, your odds are now seventeen times worse.

That means nothing to lose, right?

One thing about District 12 is that it's never quiet. Usually, the bustling sounds of conversation come from the market, along with the sound of pickaxes against coal, and kids running around with the town strays. The only sounds you can hear today are the dread-filled footsteps of children and anxious parents walking toward the town center. Everyone takes their time heading to the reaping.

Not even the birds sing today.

-

The peacekeepers with ugly white suits stare, making sure everything is going smoothly. You see two girls holding hands. The mayor's daughter walks in silence beside you. Her father said his goodbyes, he said he'll see her for supper and she believes it. You know better than to tell yourself you'll be back, just in case the worst happens. Boys and girls alike between the ages twelve through eighteen file into the town hall after getting their identities verified by the peacekeepers.

Everyone is quiet.

After the children get checked in, everyone settles to their selective spots—the girls and boys in opposite sections and parents nervously waiting for their children on the sidelines. A tap on the microphone in center stage rings through your ears from the speakers, startling you amidst the silence.

"Welcome!" A lady beams with a twisted smile, excitedly surveying the crowd. "Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor."

You feel yourself scoffing at that. This lady recites the same shit every year, with the same bright ugly hair and outfit, although they change colors each time. You always wonder what she's going to wear next.

"Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the capitol!" The lady announces, shifting her focus to the projection screen strung up in the town center for all to see.

You tune the video out every year. You don't want to hear the capitol bullshit about "generosity" or "forgiveness", you find it rather ironic. If this was about a lesson for the districts after the rebellion, why carry it on for generations?

You don't think you'll ever find the answer to that, that is just how it is. However, one thing is certain—you know the capitol is twisted.

"Are you alright?" The amber-eyed girl whispers to you, genuine concern etched on her face. She is nervous too—you notice the way her hands fumble with the insides of her skirt pockets.

"I'm ready to get this over with," you lean over, whispering to the girl. You see her nod in agreement out of your peripheral vision. Soon enough, the bullshit video was over and the bright-haired lady's insufferable voice echoed through the town hall once more.

"I just love that!" The lady gushed, but was quick to move on to the next "exciting" order of business. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 98th annual Hunger Games!"

She paused, as if waiting for some sort of applause. She didn't get one.

"Well, as usual... ladies first." She flashed a bright smile, disappointment lingering on her face. It makes you wonder if she enjoys being the one picking children to be sent to the games, as if she should be praised.

You watch her waddle to the left side of the outdoor stage in her heels, oh-so-gracefully dipping her hand into the reaping bowl for the girls and filing through the pieces of paper with entry names. You look at the ginger next to you, she looks even more nervous than just a few moments ago. You want to comfort her, but before you can say anything, the capitol lady on the stage pulls out an entry and waddles back to the microphone.

Seventeen entries. Your name is entered in that bowl seventeen times.

The bright-haired lady awkwardly fumbles with the paper and squints through the sunlight beaming under the clouds as she reads the entry. She takes a deep breath before she announces the name. Everyone is holding their breath. It's quiet.

"Petra Ral!"

You think you can feel your heart stop.

The ginger next to you, Petra—froze in place. Everyone knew her as the mayor's daughter, which meant everyone knew exactly where to look for her in the crowd. All eyes were on her. You glance up to the stage where you saw her father, the mayor, stand up in his seat to protest, but was quickly blocked by peacekeepers.

"Come on up, dear." The bright-haired lady quips, beckoning the ginger to the stage with an oh-so-welcoming smile.

You glance at Petra, and your eyes lock with her amber ones. You think the look on her face might haunt you for the rest of your life.

She knows she's going to die in those games. You know she's going to die in those games.

The crowd around you and the selected tribute clear the way for the two peacekeepers marching toward the ginger. You can only watch as they grab the side of her arms and escort her toward the stage. She tries to thrash away from their grip, but it's useless.

She won't last a day in that arena. Between the careers, the mutts, and whatever else the gamemakers throw at her, she won't make it. It's not fair.

It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not...

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The words burst from your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. The peacekeepers stop in their tracks. It's quiet again.

"Oh! I believe we have a volunteer!" The capitol lady claps enthusiastically from the stage.

You feel a new set of peacekeeper's arms wrap around yours. Your limbs feel practically numb as they drag you up to the stage. You pass Petra as the other peacekeepers take her back to her place in the crowd. You don't even look at her. You have to stay strong. You know every camera in the town hall is on you.

It just shows the capitol doesn't care who gets picked for the games, mayor's child or not.

She has everything to lose. What do you?

"This is District 12's very first volunteer!" The bright-haired lady announces excitedly, putting her hand on your back once you bring yourself up the steps to the stage, carefully guiding you toward the center.

"What is your name?" She asks, her colorful eyelashes batting at you.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Y/N L/N."

"Well now, let's have a big round of applause for our very first volunteer!" The lady requests, but no one follows her as she begins to applaud.

Your eyes lock with Petra's from the stage. Then, something unexpected happens. Three middle fingers of her left hand touch her lips, and she raises them to the sky. The rest of the crowd follows Petra, one by one, putting three fingers in the air as a salute.

You know what that gesture means. It's an old and rarely used sign of your district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love.

You can tell the bright-haired lady doesn't know what to do at this point. She pauses for a moment, but quickly moves on. She's good at deferring. "Now, for the boys!"

This time, she doesn't take her time grabbing an entry, most likely eager to get the ceremony over with. She hastily waddles in her stilettos back to the microphone from the entry bowl, unfolding the paper and putting on a gleeful smile.

"Levi Ackerman!"

You watch the tension among the crowd of boys visibly drop, a collective sigh of relief settling over them, except for one. His posture remains rigid, muscles tight as all eyes shift to him. He's lean, with dark raven hair that looks vaguely familiar. His gaze darts around in disbelief as peacekeepers move in, gripping his arms. He brashly jerks against their hold, trying to break free, but it's no use. His expression shifts sharply, anger flashing across his face like a spark ready to ignite.

You wonder if he'll accept it—his fate. You don't even know if you have. No one from District 12 comes back from the games.

The black-haired boy is placed beside you as the capitol lady reapproaches the microphone after greeting him, rather cheerful. You think her voice might give you a headache. "Here they are, our tributes for District 12!"

You know what everyone's thinking. I'm sorry it was you, but I'm grateful it wasn't me.

You flinch at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder, turning to see the bright-haired lady grinning at you. "Well, come on you two, shake hands!" She says and takes a step back, allowing you to get a good look at the boy next to you.

Now that you've met his eyes, the unmistakable silver-blue irises staring back at you—you do recognize him.

He wasn't much better-off than you, he was an orphan too, fighting to survive in a world that gave him nothing. One night during a terrible rainstorm, the bakery burned a batch of bread, and that's when he saw you, hollow-eyed and starving. Despite his own hunger, he was able to salvage one loaf of bread out of the pigs pen and shared it with you after getting chased off by the bakers. He split it with you without a word, expecting nothing back in return.

You're forever grateful for that.

He is the first one to reach out his hand, his eyes carefully gazing into yours. You wonder if he remembers too. You raise your hand and return the handshake. You grip his hand, rough calluses brushing against yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. The bright-haired lady starts to speak again before you two can finish.

"Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Though, you both know your odds are fucked.

The guards escorted you and your district partner to waiting rooms inside of the town hall to say goodbye to anyone who might want to, usually family or friends. You're only given a handful of minutes, but you don't exactly expect anyone to walk through that door. Hell, you wouldn't even blame Petra if she didn't.

With your hand on the windowsill, you rest your weight against it, taking in these last few minutes until you're hauled off to the capitol. You know you aren't likely to ever see your home again. You know you'll miss it, the woods have always been home. Unexpectedly, the doors burst open and you're met with none other than the mayor's daughter, Petra.

"You didn't have to," you whisper. It's no use. Although you two were never particularly close, she still rushes up to you and scoops you into a big hug. Your arms reluctantly reach around her back, taking a shaky breath.

Petra pulls back from you, her expression almost in shock. "I thought—I thought I was... I don't know how I can ever repay you for this!"

You can't help but smile at her generosity. "You don't need to. There's no use anyway."

The ginger shakes her head furiously. "I've seen your hauls when you come back from the woods! You can hunt," she speaks quickly, she knows she's running out of time with you. "You can hunt, and you're a survivor. You can win this."

Your smile fades, and you feel yourself sigh. You don't want to let her get her hopes up for your return. You can't.

"Petra, you and I both know no one from District 12 comes back—"

"Don't you dare speak of such things. Make them pay," she interrupts, her voice lower. She nods, almost to herself, cautiously scanning her surroundings before reaching into her dress pocket to pull out a shiny pin.

She hands it to you—it's gold, with a bird in motion of flight in the center. It's a Mockingjay.

The Capitol originally engineered a mutation known as the Jabberjay, designed during the rebellion to eavesdrop on rebels and spies by recording and repeating conversations. However, the districts quickly caught on, using the Jabberjays to spread false information. Once they outlived their usefulness, the capitol abandoned them in the wild, expecting them to die off. Instead, the Jabberjays mated with female Mockingbirds, creating an entirely new species—the Mockingjay.

You're not quite sure what Petra meant by 'they', either, but before you have the chance to ask, or rather, thank her for the pin—a peacekeeper barges through the door announcing your time is up, and begins to escort Petra out of the room. You shove the pin in your skirt pocket, hoping to the gods the peacekeeper didn't see it, only able to watch as Petra gets dragged away from you.

"You have to try!" She says one more time, but this time, you give an optimistic reply, though you can't help but doubt yourself. "I will!"

As soon as you finish your sentence, the door is slammed shut behind the peacekeepers as they drag Petra out. You are left alone in the suffocating silence of the dim room once again, aside from the sound of your uneven breathing.

You hate this. You hate knowing that you're never going to see her or your home ever again.

-

You and Levi are hauled in a military vehicle to the bullet train along with the annoying bright-haired lady. You can't help but tune her blabbering out, and judging off the look on Levi's face, you think he's doing the same. After a short while, you are escorted onto the train that travels between the districts and to the capitol.

You'd never seen it in person, but it definitely exceeded your expectations. The train's shiny silver metal reflects against the sunlight, almost blinding you. It is infamous for the high speeds it travels at. You're not exactly sure how fast it goes, but you know it can reach the other side of the country within a day.

When you step inside of the train, you're met with the most luxurious interior you've ever laid your eyes on. There are sets of velvet furniture, walls adorned with exclusive wallpaper, paired with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A delicious scent overwhelms you, and your mouth waters at the next thing you lay your eyes on—food. Practically enough to feed the entire population of District 12 if rationed out properly.

There are pastries, plenty of fruit, along with a great selection of cheese and meats. The only time you've been able to eat meat was when you caught your own in the woods, usually squirrels or rabbits, but on rare occasions—deer.

The dark-haired boy beside you seems just as stunned as you are, both of you frozen at the sight of the food laid out before you. It feels almost selfish to have this much when everyone back in District 12 is starving. Guilt knots in your chest as you hesitate before slowly stepping toward the table overflowing with beautiful dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your district partner fall into step beside you, just as hesitant.

It's not fair.

You both eat anyway.

The first thing you reach for is a fresh roll of bread, still warm, its soft crust glistening with a light coat of melted butter. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Levi picking up a pastry—a cheese danish. You'd had the chance to try one once, traded by a kind woman at the market for a couple squirrels. To this day, you think it was the best thing you've ever tasted.

As you're stuffing your face with bread rolls, a bubbly voice chirps from behind you. "Pace yourselves, you two!"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. It's not like she'd understand—raised in the capitol, she's so out of touch it's almost humorous. Nothing you can do about that.

"Good grief," a gruff voice follows after the sound of a door opening. You turn from the table to look at the man, his expression almost as unimpressed as you feel. "Let them eat."

The first thing you notice about him is the unsteady way he staggers toward you, followed quickly by the sharp, rancid scent of alcohol hitting your nose. He's drunk, no question about it. As he draws closer, you get a better look at him. Short blond hair, fair skin, and hazel eyes that flick lazily between you and Levi, sizing you both up disinterestedly.

"Congratulations," the drunkard slurs, snatching a glass from the nearby table, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he hovers over the selection of bottles. After a brief, careless scan, he settles on an amber-colored liquor, filling it to the brim without a second thought.

You and Levi exchange an uncertain glance before shifting your attention back to the man, watching as he stumbles toward a seat beside you. He drops into it with an exasperated sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before grandly gesturing for you and the dark-haired boy to sit across from him. Hesitant, but with little choice, you both obey, sinking into the stiff cushions of a square sofa.

The man says nothing—just sits there, staring at the two of you. You grow uncomfortable underneath his gaze, but before you get the chance to break the silence, your district partner does it for you.

"You're supposed to be our mentor?"

The drunk lets out a low chuckle, taking another swig of his drink before setting the glass down with a dull thud on the table beside him. From behind, the bright-haired woman pipes up, her voice demanding. "Show Hannes some respect! He's won these games before!"

You scoff under your breath. Respect? You're expected to put on your best manners while being shipped off to the Hunger Games—on top of discovering your mentor is a washed-up drunk? What a joke.

You doubt this guy will even try to be of any help, but it's worth a shot. You lean forward in your seat, raising an eyebrow. "So, what great advice do you have for us, Hannes?"

The drunk smirks. "Well sweetheart," he exaggerated, "the best advice I can offer you is to accept, deep in your heart, that you will not be making it out of that arena."

The bright-haired lady, whom you have yet to figure out the name of, gasps. "Hannes! Don't be absurd!"

Levi's jaw tightens, a scowl settling across his face as he stews in silence. Then, without warning, he shoots up from his chair, reaching to snatch the glass from Hannes' hand. You can only watch as the drunk resists, gripping the glass stubbornly until Levi yanks it free with more force than necessary. The amber liquid sloshes out, splattering across Hannes' white button-up, leaving dark stains that will definitely not wash out.

"Sober up, then we can have a mature conversation." Levi hisses, his glare burning into the drunk's hazel eyes.

Hannes lets out a frustrated huff, snatching the now-empty glass from Levi's hands before storming off from his seat through the automatic door, disappearing into another room. Shifting your gaze, you glance up at the dark-haired boy as he settles back into a seat across from you, looking surprisingly content after the outburst.

"What?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "That went well."

"He'll come around! I'll be back," the bright-haired woman chirps, her arms swinging dramatically as she strides after Hannes, disappearing into the other room and leaving you alone with Levi.

Silence settles between you. You don't know what to say to him—not that it would matter. You're both thinking the same thing anyway. Hannes was probably right. The odds of either of you making it back home are slim, between the careers, mutts, and whatever other nightmares the gamemakers have waiting.

"Do you have anyone back home?" You break the silence, solely in an attempt to escape your thoughts, even if it's just for a moment.

"No," he says without looking at you. "You?"

You purse your lips together. "Nope."

Silence suffocates the room once more. You figure there's nothing more to talk about at this point, it's just a matter of getting through the week until the games commence. You're not exactly eager to get close to Levi. What's the point? Neither of you are making it out of the arena. And even if you did, it wouldn't be together. One of you might turn on the other. The idea sounds ridiculous, but when it comes to survival, you can't doubt the intentions of anyone.

As your eyes drift to the wooden grandfather clock by the automatic door, you can't help but wonder—is there a way out? A way out of the games, a way out of the system. But after 98 long years of their existence, you're certain the capitol has thought of everything. Every possible scenario, every desperate attempt a tribute might make to escape—it's all definitely been accounted for.

-

Later, the bright-haired woman whose name you learn is Valerie, returns alone, clearly unsuccessful in coaxing Hannes back. To pass the time, she decides to give you and Levi a tour of the train. You can't even begin to fathom how much one room might be worth, let alone the entire bullet train. When she finally shows you to your bedroom, offering some privacy, you almost gape at the sheer luxury laid out before you.

Dark wallpaper with undecorated walls surround the room, with a chandelier reflecting a beautiful dim yellow glow in the center. The bed is massive, you figure you could fit about six people on there if they squeezed together, and the decor is nothing you've seen before, rich with details you can't even name. Off to the side, you have your own luxurious bathroom with unlimited warm water, along with a huge walk-in closet, its walls lined with endless amounts of clothing. It's overwhelming, to say the least.

You find yourself shuffling toward the bed laden with silk sheets, taking a seat as the canvas of the bedframe embraces you. As you sat, you felt something in your pocket prod at you—the pin Petra gave you. Carefully, you pull it out of your pocket, examining the details. You were never sure about Petra, but you suppose that maybe after all... she was the closest thing you had to a friend.

Your fingers delicately trace the pattern of the Mockingjay on the gold pin.

It brings back memories of simpler days, sitting beneath the trees, listening to the Mockingjays sing alongside your younger sister in the forest sometime after you both lost your parents. You remember it was her favorite bird—you'd listen to her hum melodies, and they'd sing the tune right back.

Those days weren't exactly simpler. Food was always scarce. Your mother wasn't around, and your father was always too busy in the mines to help with food. You managed, but once your parents were gone, it was your responsibility to keep you and your sister alive.

And it was hard. Really hard.

Your father had taught you how to use a bow and arrow. On rare occasions, he'd sneak you past the electric fence into the forest outside District 12, strictly forbidden territory, to hunt a few squirrels for supper.

Once, you snuck out into the forest on your own without his permission. When you returned with two squirrels in hand, proud of your catch, your father was furious. You knew it was because he was scared for you and your family, worried about what could've happened if you'd been caught. You understood the risks—but you also understood the consequences of coming home empty-handed.

You stopped sneaking out into the forest, and yes—your family barely scraped by. Once it was just you and your sister, you had no other choice for your survival to go back into the woods just to eat. Sometimes, if you got extra game, you would sell or trade it at the market, and that always helped.

The winters were always harsh. So harsh.

You and your sister were lucky enough to keep living in your parents' house, but luck didn't mean much when there was hardly any food or warmth. By the time winter crept in, the rations from extra entries were nearly gone, and the thick layers of snow drove all the animals into hiding. You were only thirteen, just a kid when you had to fend for you and your sister.

That was your only job—keep yourself going so you can keep your sister alive. Yet, you managed to fail.

The winter was particularly terrible that year, you and your sister were living off just about nothing. You had no firewood, no food scraps, and no warmth—just each other. But it wasn't enough. She fell ill and you did everything you could. You tried to access medical assistance, which was practically unheard of in District 12, so you did what you could with what little you had, trying to nurse her back to health on your own.

But it wasn't enough.

One morning when the sun rose, you went to wake your sister before you planned to go beyond the prohibited fence into the forest, desperate to find any signs of game. She had been sick—terribly sick, and deep down, you knew it. When you tried to wake her, gently cupping her cheek in your cold hands—you found no signs of warmth in her skin. You felt her hands. Her arms. Her body. Everything was frozen cold.

You tried to shake her awake. But she didn't stir. She never woke.

So yes, the capitol never did anything to you, but you've seen the way they've neglected your family, children, the homeless, the starving, exploited the districts—everyone. Even the privileged among the districts, such as Petra, the mayor's daughter—were not safe from the capitol. No one was.

It's not fair.

So yes, maybe they have done something to you. Maybe it is personal.

You remember Petra's words. "Make them pay," she said. You didn't understand what she meant back then, but now you think you do. You're not sure how, but you know you want to.

You need to make them pay.

-

"Rise and shine, dear!" A jarring voice ruptures you from your slumber, forcing you to rise from your bed with a gasp—only to see the bright-haired lady... what was her name again? Oh... Valerie.

"Breakfast is getting cold!" She adds with a sing-song voice as she draws the blackout curtains open, revealing the mountains you're passing through in flashes of speed your vision simply cannot keep up with. You groan as the morning light meets your eyes, covering your vision with your arm for some relief as your senses are overloaded.

She prances out of your room, only before adding in a quick, "chop, chop!"

That was the best sleep you think you've gotten in years. Though, today is the day you arrive at the capitol, one day closer to the games. You take your time getting up, you don't really care if your food is cold—food is food. You can't complain, long story short. Finding the bathroom connected to your room, you turn on the warm faucet water and splash it onto your face, refreshing yourself before you make your way to the dining room with the others.

When the automatic door slides open, you're met with Valerie who flashes a polite smile at you whilst sipping on a fancy cup of warm coffee, along with Levi and your bright mentor, Hannes, sitting at the wooden dining table. Your presence catches Hannes' attention, and he beckons you over to the table.

You grab a pastry before sitting down with the two of them. You're not sure what it is, but it's still warm, fresh out of the oven, melting in your mouth with the first bite. Sliding into a seat across from Hannes and beside the dark-haired boy, you catch the fresh, crisp scent of clean fabric—briefly comforting—before it's quickly overpowered by the sharp, bitter sting of alcohol wafting from Hannes, making you grimace.

You scoff, gesturing at the empty glass sat in front of the blonde mentor. "Really? Starting off your day strong, I see."

He chuckles at that, shaking his head lightly. "It's not the strong stuff dear, relax."

"Levi here was the one to convince the man to lay off, be sure to thank him." Valerie chimes in from across the room, sitting in a velvet chair as she sips her coffee.

You steal a glance at the boy beside you, meeting his sharp, silver-blue eyes. He's clearly holding back a scowl, though his face doesn't seem built for anything resembling a warm expression. You guess you can't really blame him.

As you settle in your seat, you're suddenly swarmed with enormous plates of food placed in front of you from the maids. There's eggs, sausages, and even pancakes with a side of syrup. They set two glasses of juice in front of you and Levi, and you can't help but give a small nod as a thank you when they depart.

You gratefully accept the plate of food set in front of you, digging into the pancakes first. They remind you of a Christmas morning long ago, when your mother had managed to gather the ingredients for a special breakfast. These pancakes don't taste quite like hers, but it's a rare treat nonetheless. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Levi beside you, silently forking a sausage and slicing it apart with precise movements of his knife.

As the two of you ate, Hannes couldn't help himself but watch you and Levi try and act polite before the abundance of food, because he too lived in District 12, starving like the rest of you. He knew what it was like, but he wouldn't judge the tributes that ate like it was their last meal, because likely—it was.

"So," you mumble as you chew. "You sober enough to try and actually help us out now?"

Your mentor can't help but stifle a laugh as he refills his beverage with some sort of new red colored alcohol—you have no idea what it could be. He simply ignores your question, reaching for a fabric napkin to wipe the few drops of alcohol he accidentally spilt on the table. You see an opportunity to get his attention.

If you want a shot at this, you'll have to make him realize you're serious about it.

Swiftly, your hand reaches over to Levi's table knife and you clutch it in a fist, plunging it into the napkin Hannes tried to lift. It gets pinned to the wood of the table just right between his fingers. Your mentor's eyes go wide, shock plastered across his face as if you've completely lost your mind. Beside you, Levi fights back a grin, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You hear a gasp across the dining room from Valerie, who slammed her almost-empty cup of coffee on the table beside her. "That is mahogany!"

You watch her get up and storm off to the other room. You're not even sure what that word is supposed to mean, but you realize she was talking about the wood that the table was made of.

"Well then, look at you!" Hannes raises his eyebrows, yanking his nearly punctured hand back from the table. "You killed a napkin."

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulls the knife from the wooden table, setting it neatly back with Levi's silverware. His expression shifts, growing slightly more serious. "You really wanna know how to stay alive? You get people to like you."

You don't respond, your gaze locked on his with quiet defiance. Hannes gestures to the center of the room, his patience thinning. "Stand over here. Both of you."

Reluctantly, you and Levi obey. He rises from his seat, moving to circle you and your district partner. Surprisingly, he's not stumbling like he was the day before. You guess he is in-fact a bit more sober, although it is just the beginning of the day. His eyes rake over both of you, scrutinizing every detail—your features, your posture, the tension in your muscles, examining everything visible on the surface.

"You're not entirely helpless," he mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Once the stylists clean you up, you might even secure a few sponsors." He pauses, then smirks. "Though, you both have about as much charm as a dead rat."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Gee, thanks."

Levi's glare sharpens, but Hannes ignores it, leaning in slightly. "Listen, if you can agree to not interfere with my drinks..." His eyes narrow, reluctantly finishing his sentence. "...I'll help you, but you have to do exactly as I say."

You raise an eyebrow at that as you feel a pair of eyes on you. You turn to Levi, exchanging a quick glance before he turns back to face Hannes. "Fine."

"So what do we need to do first?" You ask. "How can we—"

"The first thing you need to do is comply with your stylists," Hannes starts, grabbing the glass left on the mahogany table to take a swig of his red drink. "We'll be at the capitol station in a few minutes, and you'll be put in their hands. You're not going to like what the stylists do, but don't resist."

You furrow your brows together, shaking your head in confusion. "But—"

"No buts, just trust me." says Hannes. He takes his glass drink along with a new bottle of amber alcohol, treading toward the automatic door to the other room, leaving you and Levi alone.

As the door slid shut, the windows in the dining room darkened. You realized you're in the tunnels of the mountain that lead into the city of Panem, just where the capitol and all of its citizens reside. The chandeliers in the room still keep it well-lit, but it is still dark enough to assume it's night if you weren't paying attention.

Both you and Levi can't help but feel yourself drawn toward the windows, tentatively walking to them. As you watch the tunnels blur past, a sudden burst of blinding light floods your vision, forcing you to squint against the harsh glare. When your eyes finally adjust, the sight before you steals the breath from your lungs.

You're in the heart of the capitol—a bustling city with modern buildings and skyscrapers stretching as far as you can see. It's overwhelming, far more vibrant and abundant than anything you've ever seen broadcasted back home. You realize now just how much you underestimated it.

The train begins to slow, and soon you're met with the sight of the capitol's grand train station—along with swarms of people, hundreds of capitol citizens gathered outside, cheering wildly as they catch sight of you and the dark-haired boy through the window. Their outlandish outfits are a chaotic blur of colors, so bright and jarring it's almost blinding. Each shade is louder than the last, a dizzying mess of vibrance that's almost too much to take in all at once.

You shake your head, watching as the swarm of capitol citizens wave and cheer at you while the train grinds to a halt. "I can't believe they look at us like we're..."

"Animals in their zoo," Levi finishes your sentence, his stoic eyes meeting yours.

"Yeah," you breathe, fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the small pin tucked into your skirt pocket.

Levi gives you a slight, reassuring nod, his silver-blue eyes steady on yours. "You ready?"

You can't help but feel nostalgic at those words, remembering it was just yesterday when you told Petra you were ready to leave for the reaping. You thought you were. And even this time, you're not entirely sure.

"I guess so."

───────────────────────────────────────────

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taglist: @fleshandbonez @reivelmin @estella-novella comment and ask to be added!

[justafewberries]

I hope we get answers as to the origin of the mockingjay pin in sotr. We know it belonged to Maysilee Donner, but we don’t know how she got it. Her family’s upper class in district 12, so maybe I’m thinking too much into it, but it seems strange for someone to own something that’s gold and a luxury item and not have very strong capitol ties.

Where did the pin come from? Was it manufactured in district 1 with all of the other luxury goods? Is it from before the war?

If it is from post war district 1, is commerce more strictly regulated between districts by the time we meet Katniss? Is that why information has become so limited, to the point where Katniss doesn’t know about district 11 at all, but Peeta knows about different types of district breads?

Maybe the merchants have always had more access to information and commerce. Maybe they keep it that way on purpose.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Guilty as Charged

Soarynn Snow would never consider herself to be a rule-breaker.

Ever since she was a little girl, she’s always followed the rules, the directions, the instructions, the guidelines. She saw no point in deviating, not when it would only end in her having to fix her mistakes and work twice as hard.

It turns out that following the rules applies to the ones marriage as well. There are a lot of unspoken rules in marriage, what to do, what to say, how to act. Over the years she's gotten acquainted with them and has learned to live with them.

But the other day she broke one, and it wasn't an uspoken one. It was a very clear, very explicit rule, written in red, bold ink and underlined several times in case she tried to act like she didn't see it.

Even now she's walking on thin ice, waiting for the ball to drop, for her husband to call her out on it.

The days have gone by at a tortoruous pace and her neves have only grown bigger and bigger by each passing day. The worst part is, he hasn't mentioned it once, which is unusual for Coriolanus who loves to point out a fault the moment he notices it.

She quietly walks down the hallway towards the guest rooms, needing some more blankets when she hears his deep voice call out to her from his study as she passes by.

"Darling."

Maybe she didn't hear him.

"Soarynn, I know you heard me."

She bites her lip, she knew they'd talk about it eventually, but not now! Sheepishly, she turns on her heel, peering into his study with the deceny to look guilty, "Oh, were you calling me?"

He cocks his head, beckoning her into the room with the curl of his index and middle finger. Soarynn swallows, there's no turning back now. Being inside of her husband’s study is still strange even after all these years, it's so masculine, so dark, so him.

And he looks devilishly handsome right now sitting in his chair, legs spread, curls tussled, shirt slightly unbuttoned. "Mhm," he answers, not looking impressed by her little innocent act, "why don't you have a seat?" He points at the chair across from his desk which casues her to frown, she always sits on his lap, not a chair.

Why sit anywhere but Coriolanus Snow's lap if you don't have to?

It's pointless to argue so she nods, rounding the desk so she can take a seat. Soarynn smooths down her skirt, crossing her legs at the ankle like the proper lady she is and is known to be. Coriolanus clasps his hands in front of him, he doesn't look angry which is good, but he doesn't look thrilled which is bad.

He's right in the middle of uncharted territory.

Soarynn doesn't have a map.

"The bank statement came today," he announces, nodding at a single sheet of paper sitting on the desk. It’s creased from being folded into an envelope which makes her wish she was checking the mail everyday, she could have avoided this mess for a little longer if she intercepted the mail.

He would've found out eventually, Coriolanus always sniffs out the truth like a bloodhound. He despises liars which means she has to be honest with him, even if the truth hurts.

All she says is, "Oh."

A smirk grows across his lips, he's always loved making her nervous, getting her flustered and it's so easy with him. Coriolanus has always had this effect on her since their first date. He's just so charming, so suave, always knowing what to say to make her blush.

"Why don't you read it out loud for me?"

Soarynn sits up straighter in her chair, a good captain goes down with her ship, even if she's the reason it's sinking in the first place. "I'd rather not." His eyebrows shoot up, rarely does Soarynn ever push back on anything he says, there's no reason to. Coriolanus is far from unreasonable, and she knows he'd never do anything to intentionally hurt her.

"Alright then darling," he says with a sigh, reaching for the paper, "I'll read it for you."

Soarynn braces herself for the worst, for the lecture that's bound to come with this lesson. "Let's see, the water bill, the electric bill, bills from the veterinarian, bills from the doctor, bills from your hair salon, and oh, look at this one, an enormous bill from one of your favorite little department stores."

Soarynn gazes up at the ceiling, noting how their apartment is filled with intricate design choices including the carvings in the ceiling. Vines with roses look down on her, as if the entire Snow lineage is bearing witness to her ridicule.

"Soarynn."

She looks back across at him, "Yes?"

"Do you know how much you spent on the fourteenth?"

Soarynn bruhses her hair behind her ears, she really hadn't meant to go overboard, she never goes overboard! "I don't recall," she mumbles.

Coriolanus grunts, pulling open one of his desk drawers, pulling out that stupid little book where he writes down all their expenses. "Well, let me refresh your memory because I did some digging and made a few calls to you know, make sure someone hadn't stolen your banking card and gone on a shopping spree. And it looks like you spent six thousand over the budget. On clothes."

Oops.

"I thought it was five thousand," is all she has to say. He does not look impressed, "There's tax darling, there's always tax. And I know, I know that you probably never look at the price tags but I beg of you, start looking before you start swiping."

Soarynn truly hadn't meant to go this overboard, she's usually so good at staying within her shopping budget. Has she gotten very close to going over it? Yes, but no one's perfect!

"There was a sale!" She blurts out, leaning forward in her seat and he leans back in his, "There was a sale, and there were these shoes, so you know, I had to find an outfit to go with them," she contuines.

Coriolanus nods, "Of course you did darling."

"And then I saw this bag, oh the bag, I don't think I’ve showed it to you yet but you'll love it. Anyways, the bag was also on sale so I had to get it, then came the jewerly, and the sales woman was so helpful."

"The sales women robbed us," he states plainly, shaking his head, "the moment you walked into that store I'm sure her eyes lit up and she started picturing what she'd buy with the commission she was going to make off of you."

Soarynn twirls her hair around her finger, she can't help it if she shops at high-end stores that have exceptional service. He'd have a fit if he found out that his wife wasn't being properly taken care of.

"I didn't do it on purpose, you know I'd never spend your money so flippantly."

Coriolanus tosses that stupid book on his desk, Soarynn wishes it would catch on fire. "I know you wouldn't darling, and I also know that you'd never keep this from me or avoid telling me about it before I had to find out through the monthly bank statement."

These pesky bank statements will have to go.

"So, as a precautuion, I'm going to put a limit on your card, once you reach it, no more swiping."

Soarynn almost falls out of her chair.

"WHAT!?"

His face morphs from a calm look to a concerned look, "What, what do you mean a limit!? What if there's an emergency!? What if I get lost or need to buy something to keep me safe!?"

"New shoes don't count as an emergency," he points out, resting his forearms on the desk, "nor do handbags, or dresses, or even lingerie." She didn't think he'd go there but he did.

"But you love my lingerie," she mumbles, deciding that pouting might be the best route of action. Coriolanus softly chuckles, nodding his head, "I do love your lingerie darling," he agrees, "but the good thing about lingerie is that you can wear it more than once."

"Not when your husband rips it down the middle because he can't figure out the clasps," she fires back, earning her a sharp look. Soarynn slumps in her chair, she's lost this battle and her unlimited spending. All hope is lost.

"It's not like I'm cutting your spending budget in half," he points out, "it's still the same, the only difference is that once you reach it, you can't go over it. And if you need to buy something else, something that's actually important then all you have to do is ask."

Soarynn would rather die but she won’t say that.

A life with a limit, a budget is such a foreign concept to her. From the moment she met Coriolanus he's always given her everything she's wanted. If anything, this is his fault. He's spoiled her and now it's gone rotten.

"I thought we were rich."

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, it's pointless to bicker but he's always been good at humoring her. "We are rich, and I'd like to keep it that way, which means limits and budgets. Every family does this darling, every husband sits his wife down and tells her to slow down on the spending. Now I understand that this is partly my own doing, letting you spend to your hearts desire but you need to reel it back in."

Maybe she can go to the bank and talk to someone about lifting this limit. She is after all, Soarynn Snow and as Coriolanus Snow's wife, she's practically a celebrity.

From the moment he slipped that ring on her finger, doors literally opened for her. Everywhere she goes she's given the best service, champagne while shopping, someone to carry her bags to the car, complimentary caviar.

What did he expect?

Soarynn Snow doesn't do budgets.

"I could pawn my wedding ring," she tries getting her a snort. "Good luck with that," he tells her, "we both know that you'll spend what you make off of it before the sun sets."

Coriolanus is so fucking annoying when he's right.

Soarynn pushes herself to stand, now that the cats out of the bag so to speak, there's no reason for her to entertain him anymore. Unless he's willing to pay for the entertainment.

"You could always get a job," he offers which earns him a lethal glare from his wife. "I'd rather hang myself," she hisses, stomping out of his study with a worse mood than she came in here with.

"Thank you darling! I'm so glad we had this talk!"

Coriolanus Snow is going to be very sorry about this.

꧁ ꧂

The next three days are filled with nasty glares and short conversations.

Everything he says to her she answers with either: "Yes" or "No" which is saying a lot for a woman who normally likes to say a lot.

By the fourth day, Soarynn is summoned back to his study and this time, he looks pissed off. Good, she thinks, he deserves to feel bad about what he's done to her.

"You've been ingoring me, which is extremely childish and unattractive," he says matter-of-factly. Soarynn shrugs, two can play the game of pettiness, after all, it takes one to know one and it takes two to tango.

"Soarynn, you act like I cut your banking card into a million pieces."

She folds her arms across her chest, her feelings will not be diminished, and neither will her pink banking card. "You might as well have," she snaps, "no point in using it now."

"Ignoring me will not solve your problem."

Soarynn grins, she's well aware thay giving him the cold shoulder won't help her cause, but she's not even trying to get this limit lifted, no, she's in it for the fun of the game.

"I know," she says sweetly, "but it does make you angry, which is priceless."

The veins in his throat bulge and his nostrils flare. Coriolanus, although he would never admit it, has a very short temper and after almost ten years of being together, Soarynn knows exactly how to light it.

He needs physcial touch, craves it from her so whenever she witholds it from him, he damn near loses his mind.

"You do realize that you are the one in the wrong, correct? You went over our budget, our shared budget. Do you know how hard it is to go over that?"

Soarynn tilts her head because she hadn't even thought of it like that. He made it seem like it was all her fault, but once again, it takes two to tango.

"Let me see the bank statement again," she requests, ignoring how surprised he looks. Soarynn usually avoids that piece of paper at all costs since it tells him exactly how much she costs but now she's curious. He always brings up her spending but never mentions his.

And Coriolanus Snow has very expensive taste.

He rummages through his drawer and brandishes the sheet of paper, handing it over to her and Soarynn scans over all the numbers printed over the page. It's entirely overwhelming, so thank goodness Coriolanus handles their finances because she would never do this willingly.

But he's always been obsessed with money, always wanting more of it. He thrives on stuff like this.

At the top are the largest charges, the utility bills, the rent. Boring, boring, boring.

Then she sees where she went on her little shopping spree, money well spent in her opinion and right under that charge, is another one, for a men's department store.

Soarynn's eyes light up at the sight of it.

Looks like Coriolanus did a little shopping on his lunch break.

"Oh, oh I think you neglected to mention that you also went on a little shopping trip," she says, scanning over more charges, "in fact, you've gone on a lot of little trips. Trips to the bars, to resturaunts, goodness Coryo, you sure are expensive. Why don't you ever read your charges out loud when we go over the monthly expenses?"

When she looks up form the paper she's met with a most enticing sight. Coriolanus squirming in his seat, looking very uncomfortable at the moment. "Well, well I know where I've been, what I've spent, I keep tabs on myself," he gets out, scratching the back of his neck, "I don't want to bore you with the details."

"Well I find this information to be very intersting," she informs him, "it looks like we both have expensive taste!”

He pulls at the collar of his shirt, all these years he's droned on and on about the importance of spending money wisley and here he is, spending money unwisely.

"Why don't I lift that limit on your card?" He asks, offering her a smile, "I mean, I acted a bit rashly, don't you think?"

Ah, sweet, sweet victory.

Soarynn sets the paper back on his desk, it's served it's purpose.

"Yes, and I expect an apology, from the heart. Since you've wounded mine."

She's milking it at this point but it's not every day that Coriolanus Snow eats his own words and gets a taste of his own medicine. Coriolanus is a proud man, never backing down from a fight, unless it's with his wife. He's tried to argue with her in the past and it's never ended well for him.

"Come sit in my lap," he says first, reaching out to her. Soarynn smirks, he's desperate for physical affection after these three days of getting the silent treatment. He likes to act all big and bad until he needs cuddles at night before bedtime.

So she humors him, gracefully rising from her seat so she can sit in his lap. It's cute how quickly he grabs her by the waist, instantly pulling her down onto his lap, gronaing at the feeling of her on top of him again.

"Your heartfelt apology," she reminds him, resting a hand on his cheek. Coriolanus swallows, he looks good when he's on thin ice with her, wide-eyed and nervous. No wonder he likes the same look when it's on her.

"Right," his voice is scratchy, "darling, my darling girl, the love of my life. I am so, so sorry that I withheld this informaton from you and put a limit on your spending. You've always been so good about spending and the one time you weren't, I overreacted."

Soarynn nods, doing her best not to look entirely smug about this fantastic victory. She got him to apologize and lift her budget.

Stranger things have happened but still.

“I accept your apology,” she tells him with a haughty tone, “although I don’t appreciate you hiding your own spending habits from me. For now on, you’ll read aloud all of the charges, not just mine.”

Perhaps this will cause a shift in his excitement for going over their bank statement. It’s very inconvenient, no one wants to learn about how much money they’ve spent in a month but this will hopefully reel Coriolanus back in.

He replies without hesitation, eager to put this little mishap behind them and preferably, her under him to make up for lost time, “I agree entirely, it’s a two person job from now on.”

Soarynn smiles now that all is well and more importantly, her spending limit has been lifted. Truly, the past few days have been torturous for her, every swipe of her card has been chipping away at her soul.

Soarynn can’t help it if she likes nice, shiny, expensive things.

“I just can’t believe you didn’t think I’d catch on to your spending,” she teases with a giggle when his cheeks turn pink, “I mean honestly Coryo, it was bound to catch up to you eventually.”

Coriolanus shrugs, probably glad to be rid of his little secret. It’s a little embarrassing how long it took for her to notice his lapse of mentioning his purchases but never late than never she supposed.

“What you didn’t know didn’t hurt you darling,” he points out, kissing her cheek. Soarynn closes her eyes at the sensation of his lips on her, while her spending has been limited, so have their moment together and it’s nice to be back to normal again.

“You’re so sneaky, you really do need to always have full control don’t you?” She asks in an amused tone. Coriolanus has always craved control since the day she met him, always needing to dictate every situation which includes their budget.

Coriolanus doesn’t even look ashamed, in fact, he looks proud and picks up the folded bank statement so they can both read all the charges and he grins at her.

“Guilty as charged.”

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @lovelylove268 @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @wonderlandbound111 @matcha-muses @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @cervvsq @snowgirl12 |

[atefingersdagger]

Kinda want to headcanon that Enobaria has a slight lisp because of her sharpened teeth

[riicky-ye]

In case you didn’t know, which you didn’t, so now you know, this is the scene that defined romance for me. this quiet little thing on the very sidelines of the main plot. to be exactly accurate, the “don’t be a stranger” and the cheek kiss moment. lips kiss sure funny thing, but the cheek one? my brain overloads immediately like every time I see it

The Haymitch and Effie kiss. The kiss between Haymitch and Effie. Btw guys Effie and Haymitch kissed on the lips. The hayffie. The hayffie kiss. The 1:56:29. The time Haymitch kissed Effie. Do you remember that one moment in Mockingjay part 2 where Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy kiss. That one time Effie kissed Haymitch goodbye. The “don’t be a stranger”. The kiss on the cheek. The kiss on the lips. Have I mentioned Haymitch and Effie kissed at the end of mockingjay part 2. The Effie Trinket x Haymitch Abernathy kiss. The

[soapywankenopy]

something that never really occurred to me was that haymitch didn't have a previous victor to be his mentor. so did that capitol provide one? i would assume so. i'm really excited for sunrise on the reaping it's going to be so cool to have some answers about haymitch and previous games.

[everdeensworld]

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN TEN DAYS | chapter one

summary: for an assignment you are tasked to lose a guy in ten days, the guy happening to be the one and only finnick odair.

pairings: finnick odair x journalist!reader

authors note: this has been sitting its ass in my drafts for the past few days but i finally got around to writing it, my brain was full of ideas and i couldn’t choose

parts: chapter one, other chapters coming soon.

journalism had been your dream since you had been able to read and write, you used to steal your mothers newspaper just to study the way people wrote, the beauty in reading how other people shared their thoughts, their opinions on things.

an outlet.

though of-course you hadn’t expected it to be so hard to achieve, so controlling, that you’d practically be unable to write what you want to but what you have to.

“you want me to what?” your jaw dropped, the woman, your boss, who stood before you, a clear grin in her face. “well, ever since katniss and peeta won the games, love is in! it’s all the rage here in the capitol.”

you wanted to roll your eyes. “love is a trend? i don’t see how that’s—”

“nevermind the logistics of it.” your boss waves you off. “you are a desirable woman, i want you to write a piece on what not to do, dating wise, i want you to find a guy, a cute one, date him for ten days, and drive him away, write about it so our love obsessed citizens know what not to do.”

“isn’t that a little cruel?”

she scoffs. “choose someone who won’t care then, like..” she trails off, eyes glancing the room of the capitol victors party, katniss and peeta’s party, “what about gloss, he’s a good looking guy, a victor too.”

you glance over the boy, he was handsome, he was charming, and he had asked you out multiple times before, he was pushy, you gave your boss a apprehensive look, hoping this was just a time and you could forget about this whole ordeal and pass the assignment on to a apprentice.

“if you do this, i will give you your own column, to write about whatever you want.” she bribed, a wolfish grin on her face.

that caught your attention, you did desperately want to be able to have free reign over your work, your writing, to be able to express yourself through your work, and this might be your opportunity.

but to mess with someone’s emotions like that to get what you want, it was wrong.

“oh come on!” your boss scoffed. “i promise it won’t be personal, besides, you’re going to drive him away! he’s not going to care, he’ll be fed up with you by the end, you’re the only one of my employees that i trust is a good enough writer to write this!”

you bite your lip and sigh. “fine! but i get not a column, but a whole page, and i get to choose the guy!”

your boss mulls the idea over before sighing, a fed up sigh, punching her nose. “fine! if you must, a whole page just for you, now trot on— go find yourself a suitor.”

a glass of the capitols finest alcohol was in the capitols finest glass, in his hand. he had finally managed to fend off everyone asking for his autograph, questions about his game and lots of other pointless things too.

his game was almost ten years ago, you would think they’d be bored of him by now, with the way trends change here in the capitol, yet they haven’t.

gloss laughs at his exhausted look. “wow man, you look beat.”

“i am beat, i wish they’d all just leave me alone sometimes, all the time.” he corrects himself, sipping on the alcoholic beverage, the drink is sour, and stings as it goes down but once its in his system he can’t help but enjoy the buzz the drink gives him.

“get yourself a girl, distract yourself.” goss tells him patting his shoulder, finnick scoffed. “from the capitol no way.”

gloss shrugged, “i don’t know man, not all the chicks here are that bad.” he slurred.

“i’ll tell you what, let’s make a bet, see that girl over there.” gloss grabs him, spinning finnick around to face you, finnick noticed you right away, you were speaking to a very pink looking woman, her skin was dyed pink, and she wore pink from head to toe.

your clothes were more cooler tones, you still had a capitol look to you, clean, and it was quite clear you weren’t poor. you looked shy, like you wanted to be anywhere else but here, you didn’t fit in with the rest of the people that were in the room.

you intrigued him.

“she is extremely wanted round’ here.” he says with a grin. “i’ve tried it before, she will not let up, all the men here want her because she’s so untouchable, i will give you anything you want if you can make her fall in love with you, literally anything.”

finnick thought for a moment, there was really nothing he needed, but he was intrigued by you, and it couldn’t hurt, besides, gloss said he could have anything, and finnick had a couple of things in mind.

[kald-dal-write]

Want to get into more fic reading, so feel free to recommend fics I can check out

Not that interested in fics where romance is the main focus, but mostly open to everything else

[effieotto]

The women who got engaged with two men at the same time just for fun would absolutely sing this one

[sierraamazauthor]

Me waiting for Sunrise on the Reaping to come out.

Will it become my whole personality?

Yes.