#JUSTICE FOR CINNA

[thesweetnessofspring]

The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.

HungerTown 14/?

[lizzyhowards]

Hope. It's the only thing stronger than fear

thats right president yellow snow, now please revive finnick finnicks parents rue mags sejanus and cinna idfc how just do it

[nariko-senpai]

Everyone talks about wanting a Haymitch novel, or Finnick, Johanna, etc I WANT A NOVEL ON CINNA, ONE OF MY TOP FAVOURITE CHARACTERS IN THE WHOLE SERIES.

Cinna is so underrated and so mysterious, Katniss' games were his first games, yet he managed to design and create these absolutely stunning outfits that everyone agrees are the best in the games.

It's also revealed when Katniss assumed that he got District 12 because he was new, he says that he asked for 12 WHICH IS MYSTERIOUS.

Not only that, but the way Katniss describes him in the novels suggests that he isn't from the Capitol, from the way he dresses (plainly without the typical Capitol alterations) and the way he speaks (without the accent). Even the way he treats Katniss with kindness and as an equal suggests more than just a Capitol stylist.

HE WAS ALSO THE BADASS REBEL THAT DESIGNED THE MOCKINGJAY SUIT THAT KATNISS LITERALLY WEARS TO BATTLE. I also love how Katniss always thinks of it as 'Cinna's suit', showing how much of an impact Cinna had on her. BUT THE TOPIC OF CINNA BEING A REBEL IS SO OVERLOOKED, HE BASICALLY GAVE KATNISS HER NAME AND STYLE THAT STICKS WITH HER THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE STORY.

I will die a happy woman if Suzanne publishes a novel on Cinna's (and Portia?) story because I love him and he didn't deserve to die.

[nariko-senpai]

THIS. If they casted Cinna as a basic white boy, I would've cried.

AI is really showing it's racism.

I saw a series of AI photos based on books description vs. the movies version of the Hunger Games characters.

It made Cinna a white blonde European man while the only thing that was ever described about Cinna's physical appearance in the books was his eyes.

The AI automatically filled the gaps of information with white blonde man that frankly looked so boring.

I'm not surprised by the fact that AI is racist and is making shitty art I'm just surprised about how fucking blant it's racism is. It's not even trying to hide it.

I heard there were people who complained Cinna's casting was "blackwashing"??? His colour was never described in the books stfu.

I personally always imagined Cinna as poc years before I even heard there were movies (I specifically imagined him Asian for some reason, with gorgeous dark hair). His casting choice as poc made perfect sense for me.

He is supposed to stand out between all the capitol people who are mostly rich classist prejudice people so yeah making him poc is a great way of making him stand out and more unic, contrast him to the other prejudice people.

Making him another white blonde European man would be so fucking boring.

Welcome to my ted talk 🧍

[cinnamart]

struggling to figure out characters' personalities beyond boring shit like 'nice', 'funny', 'mean', etc ??? ... plug an arbitrary birthday/birth time into astro-charts, google/tiktok the results, and BAM unique hyperdetailed personality

[millennium-queen]

“Yes, this is my first year in the Games,” says Cinna.

“So they gave you District Twelve,” I say. Newcomers generally end up with us, the least desirable district.

“I asked for District Twelve,” - THG p.78

Here’s my fan design for Cinna! Inspired by @thesweetnessofspring’s post about wanting to see more Cinna in fan works which was super fun!!

[cinnabuncrumbs]

commission i did for @grartaire buggy as miku :3

[cinnabundoll]

Chat is any of you interested in hearing out the concepts I made for Due's and Just's backstories

I've only explained it to only one person 😓 I have the concept down but if I were to make a oneshot of it I'd evaporate

If yes, ↓

Due's Pre Escape Backstory, with a temporary name of "The day you and the stars disappeared" (the title could be interchangeable) explores his story before becoming a runaway from the institution he grew up in.

The main goal was to explain his motive as to why he ran away in the first place and what motivated him to do so. (This is his human version) His story is heavily inspired by The Promised Neverland and Chapter 3-4 from Reverse 1999

----------------------

"Justice"s Backstory, no name yet, explores his life before becoming a knight and overall protector of the kingdom. The extra I added was that there were two genocides that happened instead of one, The first involving the loss of Just's mentor and the 2nd is the one from his reference.

I gave Just and the child some dynamic, making the child one of his students, (it's like a loophole/phenomenon of the kingdom, the protector being killed by their student something something, Just is the one who breaks that samsara)

Just is a teacher pre knight as he wanted to take the role his previous mentor did after those years of teaching him. Again, Inspired by Chapter 5 of Reverse 1999

And the rest are just bits of puzzle pieces I've tried to conjoined to add more into these.

Please note these are just concepts!(well might as well call these headcanons?) These were meant to be for fun and not taken as canon, although some of my headcanons do connect with these stories ^_^ especially with Due's since i wanted to explore more of his behaviors and add more meaning to them

Feel free to send an ask for any questions regarding these concepts! Or just any headcanons I have for The Sillies in general! (⁠✷⁠‿⁠✷⁠)

"Justice" belongs to @angeutblogo

Due belongs to @dantemoths-lair

[railmerosalie]

Okay so Katniss is autistic, like there is a STAGGERING amount of evidence of it throughout the books. I think we all know that Suzanne Collins doesn't do things by mistake or accident, I fully believe this is what she intended for Katniss.

1. She literally went non verbal in district 13 for a solid while. (Multiple times)

2. Cannot read social situations to save her life (she would be GONE without Haymitch and Peeta's help in the first book). Just look at how Johanna and Finnick teased her during the opening ceremony of CF, no neuro-typical reacts like that.

3. Can't seem to fathom the idea of someone being interested in her

4. Sensory issues with clothes, how the capital made boots felt wrong compared to her old shoes. Literally any costume Cinna made her wear during the victors tour. ALSO HER WEDDING DRESS AND TRYING THEM ON!!

5. Takes everything so fucking literally

6. Ppl think she's scary and mysterious because sometimes she forgets to emote

7. Her intense feelings of justice (she was the face of a goddamn revolution)

8. CPTSD has major cross overs with autism, the way she breaks down in CF after seeing Marvel's body being shot with the arrow !!! Trust me when I say the way she immediately started freaking out, the shaking in her hands, how she physically hunches in on herself.

9. Her mental connections, like how when she was dehydrated and wishing for water from Haymitch, just to be like 'lol that means water is nearby!!' like girl what

10. "I decided to go ahead and like Boggs" -what neuro-typical thinks like this

11. She told me herself (real)

[riordanness]

tolerate it — [p.mellark]

wordcount: 3.9K

warnings: slight death mentions, but bro it’s the hunger games what did you reallllllly expect

requested: yes!! @ornellastreet <33

I didn’t think it was possible for my mood to get worse after being reaped, but hearing his name called out over the loudspeaker definitely made me feel like hitting something.

“Peeta Mellark!” The chipper lady, Effie, is way over the top about all this. I mean, I get that it’s her job and all, but we’re kids, fighting to the death. We aren’t lottery winners or something.

I watch as the all too familiar blond boy’s face goes pale, then stare as he slowly makes his way towards the platform, toward me. He doesn’t look me in the eyes at first, just simply takes his place beside Effie.

“We have our tributes!” Effie squeals excitedly. “Now, shake hands, you two.”

Great. I clench my jaw as I hold my hand out to Peeta. He hesitates for just a second, but when he sees my expression, he quickly shakes my hand.

“Excellent!” Effie claps, and I feel the ridiculous urge to slap her wig off.

“Come along, both of you.” Effie waves us into the back rooms of the Justice Building. As I follow her and Peeta, I glance back over my shoulder, at what is probably my last look at home.

I sit beside Peeta, my fingers tracing the soft blue velvet of the couches in this ridiculously extravagant train car. I stare out the window, watching the world flash by faster and faster, till I get dizzy and have to stop. Then I stare at the floor.

Every part of me is aware of the boy only a few inches away. If I leaned even slightly, I would be brushing shoulders with him.

After noticing this, I quickly lean the other direction. I rest my hot forehead against the cool glass window, close my eyes, and try to pretend this is all a dream.

“Well, well, well.” A drawling male voice comes from somewhere above me, and I wake with a start. I must’ve fallen asleep in my chair, which almost impresses me because I was sure I’d been too scared to sleep.

I squint up and recognise Haymitch, the only living victor of District Twelve. He had a glass of alcohol in his left hand, and is waving the other hand at me. “Up, up!” he insists.

I get to my feet uncertainly, glancing around for a sign of Peeta.

“The boy’s already gone,” Haymitch says. “We’re arrived.”

“Arrived?” I ask. “Where?”

He spreads his hands, like ‘are you stupid?’. “The Capitol, sweetheart. Now come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Honestly? It wasn’t how I’d pictured it. I haven’t ever seen much of the Capitol, but the image in my head was way off. Everything was way more extravagant and expensive and ridiculous than I could ever have imagined.

We’ve been here almost two days now. Last night was the parade, where me and Peeta were basically lit on fire and forced to hold hands while all the Capitol citizens stared at us like we were circus animals. I hated every second of it.

I stand now in my room, on Floor 12 of this stupid tribute apartment complex. I stare out the windows, watching the Capitol go by. My fingers fidget with the satin sleeve of my new top, the most fancy thing I’ve worn to date.

I glance at the clock on the wall, and remember I’d better get going to dinner. Effie, Haymitch, Peeta, and apparently our stylists will all be waiting for me.

I hurry.

At the table, I’m forced to sit beside Peeta, much to my annoyance. He leaves me alone, though, which is more than I can say about Effie, who is peppering me with questions. I answer as little as I can, refusing to give this woman any information worth hearing.

“So.” My stylist, Cinna, gives me a smile. He’s nicer than I thought any Capitol people were capable of, but I didn’t exactly like him, not yet. “Ready for your interview tomorrow?”

“No.”

“I have your outfit ready to go. You’ll prepare with Haymitch and Effie all day, till four, then you’re mine. I’ll make you gorgeous.”

“Okay.”

Effie makes an exasperated sound in her throat. “Can’t you just try to be excited?”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. I can’t believe this. “What, excited to die?” I fake an extremely over exaggerated smile. “I can’t wait!”

Peeta kind of laughs, then immediately tries to hide it with a cough and a glass of water.

I ignore him. I’ve become pretty good at that.

Haymitch smirks. Effie sighs. Cinna gives me a knowing little wink, and Peeta’s stylist, Portia, doesn’t look at me.

I sigh and shove my chair from the table. “Night,” I announce, and storm to my room. I collapse instantly into my bed, curl into a ball, and let the tears come. I fall asleep like that, crying for home, for safety, for comfort.

The next morning, I’m woken by Effie’s ridiculous ‘It’s going to be a big, big, big day!’ The entire day sucks from that point onwards.

Both Haymitch and Effie are at their wits ends with what to do with me during my interview.

Effie has me first, and for the first hour, she keeps her optimistic outlook on my potential. Two sarcastic words from me and fifty-seven minutes later, she looks ready to wring my neck then and there. She hands me over to Haymitch looking ready to cry. I have a tiny bit of satisfaction from that, I’ll admit.

Haymitch looks, I don’t know, preoccupied, the entire of our session. Everytime I say anything, he seems almost jumpy. Eventually I give up and sit there in silence until he lets me go. I have a shower per Cinna’s instructions and wait for him in my room.

I have to admit, Cinna is a genius. His handiwork is incredible. I stand in front of the mirror and smooth my skirts, a hint of my smile on my face.

Luxurious clothing, especially dresses, were never something I even thought of back in Twelve. But it felt pretty damn good to wear one.

The dress is gold, with little pockets of white and yellow and orange and red and silver and black, like fire. When I move, it’s almost like flames are flicking over me.

“This is amazing, Cinna,” I tell him. “Thank you for making me feel pretty tonight.”

Cinna gives me a hug, and a kiss on the forehead. “I’m not allowed to bet,” he says in reply, “but if I could, I’d bet on you.”

This time, I really do smile.

I officially want to die then and there the instant I’m up on that brightly lit stage. I have no idea what to say, or how to act, and I fumble my way through the entire interview. Even Caesar Flickerman, who never seems to run out of funny things to say; who always knows how to keep the conversation flowing effortlessly, is at his wits end with me. It seems to be my only talent; making people exasperated at me.

I leave the stage to the quietest round of applause the world has ever known.

I pass Peeta in the hall, and he gives me the smallest look of acknowledgement. I wish we could just stop pretending to be friends. Nothing has ever hurt me as much as Peeta Mellark has, and I don’t know how to forgive him for it. There’s a tiny part of me that’s almost glad we're going into the Hunger Games. No matter how it goes, I won’t ever have to deal with Peeta again after this.

I go to stand beside Haymitch and Effie, and prepare to watch Peeta’s interview. I wonder what he will talk about.

I kind of feel annoyed at him the longer the interaction goes on. He and Caesar bounce effortlessly off each other, talking and joking about… showers? Anyway, the crowd seems to love it.

Then, everything changes.

Caesar leans in to Peeta conspiratorially. “So, Peeta,” he says in a whisper, but directly into the microphone of course. “Is there a special girl back home?”

“Uh, yeah, Caesar, there is.” Peeta looks a little red at the confession.

I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. We’re about to be slaughtered, and they’re discussing crushes? How ridiculous is that?

“Oh do tell.” Caesar sounds more like a teenage girl than a grown man. “We’d love to hear about her.”

Peeta clears his throat, and looks uncomfortably at the cameras. From my position inside, it’s like he’s staring right at me.

I quickly look away.

“Well,” Peeta begins, “she’s amazing. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known, and I stuffed it up with her once. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”

I glance at the screen uncertainly.

Peeta stares right back out at me. “I’m sorry for what I did. I want to do everything in my power to fix it. I promise. I love you.”

Caesar makes a squealing noise. “How adorable!” he exclaims. “You’ll have to get back to District 12 and she’ll have to forgive you.”

Peeta laughs uncomfortably. “That wouldn’t work, in my case.”

“And why not?”

“Because…” Peeta shifts in his seat. “Because she came here with me.”

I remember very little of the aftermath of Peeta’s comment. I know a flash of fury, disbelief, and shock ran through me at once. I know I dashed off to my room. I know I got out of my insane getup and collapsed into bed. I know I wanted to hit Peeta Mellark for that comment.

But after that, I know nothing.

I wake the next morning feeling sick to my stomach. I have a headache, my body feels stiff, and I’m still irrationally angry at Peeta. Well, it’s not irrational. It’s perfectly fine to hate him for what he did. And ‘apologising’ on live tv? It was like a sick joke.

I slowly get dressed in comfy pants and a loose, light blue blouse. I tie my hair up in a ponytail, and head for breakfast.

Everyone else is already there, But I ignore them all, pile my plate with as much food as I can, and sit myself down on the floor as far as possible from Peeta.

Effie huffs. “Good morning to you too, young lady.”

I answer by shoving a bread roll into my mouth whole.

“Ugh!” Effie is more than annoyed with me, but when I catch Haymitch’s eye by accident, he has a small smirk playing at his mouth, so I figure it’s not all bad.

“Hey, y/n,” Peeta tries.

I don’t reply, don’t even acknowledge him. I’m still so angry, so hurt from all those months ago. His words from back then mix with the ones from last night in my head, giving me a headache to match my heartbreak.

“You’re not… I’m sorry… I stuffed up… she’s amazing… I don’t want to… she came here with me… you mean nothing to me… not like that, y/n… I love you…”

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to block it all out. All the memories.

It was a dark, depressing day. The weather sucked, but I guess that just meant it matched the rest of District Twelve.

I was heading home after school, and trying to work up my courage to do something I’d wanted to do for years.

I was going to tell Peeta Mellark that I loved him.

Everyone knew where he lived. The bakery was a pretty, inviting little place. The window was always filled with cakes, all decorated by Peeta himself.

I skipped up the front steps, knocking twice quickly on the dark blue painted door.

A woman answered, Peeta’s mother. “Hello.”

“Hi!” I pretended not to notice her quick glance at my less-than-clean dress, or my coal-covered boots and hair. I knew I wasn't as rich as their family. I wasn’t ashamed, but her look made me sad.

“I’m here to see Peeta,” I told her.

“Ah.” She narrowed her eyes at me, then disappeared. I hear hushed voices, but don’t try to listen in on the conversation.

I just stood there and waited. Soon, Peeta appeared in the doorway. “Hey, y/n,” he says uncertainly.

“Hey.” I decided to just say it—get it over with as quickly as possible. “I like you, Peeta. Like, like, like you.”

Peeta blinked at me, stunned. “You… oh.”

I chewed my lip, suddenly feeling like this was a horrible, horrible mistake. I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve just pretended I wasn’t in love with him.

Peeta’s eyes looked conflicted, hurt, despairing. But his words, and his tone, are as hard and cold as ice. “I don’t like you. Not like that, y/n. You… you’re not… anything to me. Just a friend, an acquaintance even. You’re worth nothing to me behind that.”

I physically felt the pain of my heart breaking. I wanted to cry, run, hit something.

“Oh.” I managed. “That’s… that’s cool.” I turned on my heel and ran all the way home.

It’s been over a year since Peeta Mellark broke my heart, and I’ve never gotten over it. Even now, eating my breakfast, knowing we are both probably likely to die in the arena, I still can’t find it in myself to forgive him.

I don’t believe his little stunt last night. It was for the cameras, to make a statement and gain sponsors. He doesn’t love me. He made that pretty damn clear a year ago.

I slam my plate on the ground so hard it cracks in two. A mute, red-haired girl rushes over to help me clean it. I apologise to her, but I can’t stay in this room for a moment longer. I feel trapped, like I can’t breathe.

I find my way to an out of the way part of our complex, sitting against the wall in a little window alcove. I’m overlooking the Capitol central, the citizens milling about in their celebratory days before the Hunger Games.

I feel sick at the sight.

How can they be so enraptured by the horror that is the games? How can they find actual joy and pleasure watching kids die?

“Hey.”

I start, and turn, and see Peeta a few steps away from me.

“Hi,” I say back, a little stiffly.

He gestures at the ground beside me, and I nod. He gently sits down, looking slightly nervous.

“What’s up?” I say dully.

“Uh—nothing much, thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” I have no patience for small talk, especially not now.

Peeta licks his lips and doesn’t meet my eyes. “I actually came to apologise.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “As opposed to your apology earlier?”

Peeta grimaces. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Haymitch made me promise not to—and, I guess I just didn’t stop to think how you’d feel.”

I look away, trying to ignore the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah, well.”

“I’m also here to tell you the plan,” Peeta adds.

My gaze snaps back to him. “The plan?” I ask incredulously.

He nods. “This… star crossed lovers angle is really good for getting sponsors. It’ll help us gain friends in the Capitol—people who will want to help us.”

“Because it’s my goal in life to be besties with the Capitol,” I say flatly, and Peeta almost cracks a smile.

“If it’ll help to keep you alive, it is your goal.”

I shrug. “Whatever. What’s this plan?”

“Act like we’re in love.”

I stare at him for a second, then realise he’s dead serious. I deflate a little, but I know deep down he has a point. We need sponsors if we want to have any chance at all of winning the Games.

“Okay,” I say finally. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Training goes for three days, and it mostly sucks. I have zero talents, apparently, except for differentiating deadly plants from safe ones. Oh, I can also tie some knots. Not super helpful. I can’t throw a knife, shoot a bow, lift anything heavier than a couple kilos, or climb ropes very well.

As the third day comes to an end, I feel incredibly useless, and exceptionally hopeless. I’m going to be dead in a day, I can almost feel it.

Peeta actually had a pretty good chance. He’s very strong, and can lift even the heaviest of weights. He’s also a whiz at camouflage and starting fires. All bakery skills, I’ll wager.

As per Haymitch’s instructions, we stick together throughout the training, steering clear of the other tributes. We also touch whenever possible, holding hands, hugging, me letting Peeta touch my hair.

It’s all rather infuriating to me, but if it might help to keep Peeta alive for longer, then whatever. He needs to win. He needs to stay alive and get home to his family.

It’s finally the night before the Games, and to say I was completely terrified would be the absolute truth. I lie awake, goosebumps everywhere. I’m so scared I couldn’t eat anything at dinner, even though I know I should be trying to get up my strength. Who knows how long it might be before I can eat again.

I might be starving in that arena, or dehydrated, or freezing to death. Who knows? Maybe I’ll die right away, in the initial bloodbath.

I sit up in bed, sick of tossing and turning. I climb out, and head out my bedroom door. Surprisingly, it’s not locked. I guess they do have cameras literally everywhere, so they’d know if I was actually trying to escape. Which I’m not. That would be pointless. I’m going to die anyway.

Across the hall is Peeta’s room, and without thinking, I knock on his door. He opens it a second later, and his brow crunches together at the sight of me.

“Y/n?” he asks. “What are you—?”

“Can I come in?” I’m suddenly awkward, realising how weird this is.

Peeta nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Come in, please.” He steps aside and lets me pass. His room is indentical to mine.

I walk over to his bed and sit myself down on the silkily sheets. “Can I stay in here tonight?” I ask, not looking at Peeta.

I hear his bed creak beneath me as he sits too. “Yeah, ‘course you can.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he adds, in a much softer voice, “Anytime.”

I wake up to the sun shining into the room, and for a moment, I forget entirely where I am, and what’s about to happen. I just sink into the pillows and close my eyes.

Then, I remember. The Games are today.

“Hey, you,” a voice says behind me, and I roll over in surprise. Peeta.

“Morning,” I say back, for some reason grateful he’s here. Having a familiar face to wake up to is much nicer than rising alone, facing the Games all by myself.

“Todays the day, huh?” Peeta asks, sitting up and frowning a little.

“Guess so,” I reply, rolling back over to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want to get up.”

Peeta laughs, and it’s a pretty sound. Too pretty for such an awful day.

There’s a knock on our door, and Effie’s voice filters through: “Het up you two, it’s going to be a big, big, big day!”

“How does she know I'm here?” I ask, sitting up straight.

Peeta shrugs. “The Capitol has a crap ton of cameras, y/n.”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Do they really need to know every single thing about us, before we die? It’s all so ridiculous I almost have to laugh.

“I’d better go get ready and stuff,” I tell him, sliding out of his bed. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”

Peeta looks at me for a second, like he’s going to say something big, but just replies with, “See you in the arena.”

“Good luck.” And I’m gone.

“Ten seconds til launch.”

I take a deep breath, feel Cinna’s reassuring squeeze on my shoulder, and I step into the glass tube that will be taking me up into the arena.

“Bye, Cinna,” I half whisper. “Thank you for everything.”

He gives me a smile, that somehow is genuinely caring. “Good luck, my dear girl.”

Something inside the tube clicks, and it slides shut, locking me into my fate. It begins to slowly rise, and so does my anxiety. I come completely out of the tube, and bright, blazing sunlight temporarily blinds me. When I can see again, my throat squeezes in terror and anticipation. All of us are the same distance apart, standing on little pods that I know we can’t step off of without being blown to the sky.

In the middle of the tribute circle is a metal cornucopia, with various weapons and supplies arranged around it, trying to tempt us. I remember Haymitch’s advice to leave it all alone and just run to the woods.

That’s when I remember Peeta. I glance left, seeing a girl from District Seven, I think, who’s also looking in my direction. Beyond her is a tall, dark boy I’ve never really paid attention to other than to get out of his way. I think his name is Thresh.

I squint, frantically trying to locate Peeta. I finally spot him, the farthest tribute I can see to my right. He’s already got his eyes on me, and is shaking his head. Why? What’s he trying to tell me?

Suddenly, the bell is sounding, and there’s a flash of movement as the tributes all simultaneously leave their pedestals, most heading right for the cornucopia. I freeze, my body not reacting at all. I force myself to move, running in just close enough to snatch up a small blue backpack, and then I sprint in Peeta’s direction. I just manage to catch a glimpse of him disappearing into the woods, so I head that way.

About an hour later, I still haven’t caught up to Peeta, or seen any other tributes. Sounds of the bloodbath behind me have faded away now, and nothing but the occasional animal or bird or wind sounds now echo through the forest.

It would almost be peaceful, if I wasn’t where I was.

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, someone grabs my arm from behind. I let out a scream, and a hand slaps over my mouth. I struggle, but I’m not strong at the best of times.

“Calm down!” It’s Peeta’s voice. “It’s just me, y/n, jeez.”

I twist him off me and whirl to face him. My glare is almost enough to murder him right then and there. “Don’t scare me like that!” I hiss. “You idiot!” I hit him, half out of the fear bubbling inside of me and half out of relief he’s here and alive and with me.

“Sorry, my love,” Peeta replies, cracking a flirtatious smile. “I won’t do it again.”

I narrow my eyes at him, half annoyed and half embarrassed at how much relief is flooding inside of me at this sight of him, alive and well and here.

“Allies?” Peeta asks.

A laugh bubbles up, and surprises both of us. Peeta laughs too, but then shushes me. “Let’s not get killed just yet, okay?” he suggests. “I’d like to hang out with the love of my life first.”

And for some reason, I don’t even disagree.

[thesweetnessofspring]

We talk about the whitewashing of Katniss, but for a sec can we talk about the uno reverse of how they made Cinna a man of color and then uno reversed again and made his work, his artistry, the ugliest, cheapest, clearance rack JC Pennys prom dresses. It's a hate crime.

#Justice for Cinna

[atelierlili]

ok besties, i'm planning to make a major arcana tarot card collection for the THG, but I need some help because 1. i'm kinda stumped and 2. I havent finished TBOSAS so maybe area i'm missing have characters that suit them well. Anyway I'd love some feed back to bounce some ideas around. I don't mind if some characters are used more than once, but Im trying to limit to 2 cards per character.

The Fool (Beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit); Effie Trinket. The unaware, optimistic character of the fool, feels fitting for Effie. As for most of the series, she goes around somewhat unaware of the hurdles and dangers that lie before her towards the end of the trilogy.

The Magician (Manifestation, resourcefulness, power, inspired action): Cinna (and Portia??). The magician manifests his goals into the real world. This feels self explanitory.

High Priestess: (Intuition, sacred knowledge, divine feminine, the subconscious mind) UNDECIDED. But I am leaning towards either Mrs. Everdeen or Finnick Odair. The High Priestess provides deep intuitive understanding  and awareness via hidden/secret information. These are the two characters that a lowkey guide us throught Katniss' inner state. Finnick does it more openingly in the story, but its through her mother and her failings that we true see and understand Katniss' character.

The Hierophant: (Spiritual wisdom, religious beliefs, conformity, tradition,institutions) UNDECIDED. But maybe Plutarch or Caeser Flickerman? As they both have a hand in imparting knowledge (from a higher authority) to the people via their platform. Oh maybe I can use them post. One to represent the Heirophant upright, and the other to represent it do downright. Reversed, it represents Personal beliefs, freedom, challenging the status quo, which I think aligns more with Plutarch.

The Empress: (Femininity, beauty, nature, nurturing, abundance) UNDECIDED. I'm so torn. This feels like a good fit for Katniss, BUT I already have plans for her in the other cards and I want other characters to have representation. My other picks are Lucy Gray and Prim/Rue, but like I said I haven't finished TBOSAS yet. lol

The Emperor: (Authority, establishment, structure, a father figure) It's Snow. lmao

Lovers: (Love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, choices) Of course. It's Everlark

The Chariot: ( Control, willpower, success, action, determination) Alma Coin. Feels very fitting considers that the rebels one and she tried to take full control afterwards.

Strength: (Strength, courage, persuasion, influence, compassion) Prim and Rue? But Johanna feels like a good fit too.

Hermit: (Soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance) Haymitch Abernathy ))))):

Wheel of Fortune: The reaping bowl.

Justice: Gale Hawthorne

The Hanged Man: (Pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives) UNDECIDED. I'm kinda torn between Peeta, Prim, Johanna and Cinna for this. The Hanged Man is the card of ultimate surrender, martydom and sacrifice for the greater good. Katniss would also be a good pick too.

Death: (Endings, change, transformation, transition) 74th Games bloodbath?

Temperance: (Balance, moderation, patience, purpose) Finnick Odair. The Temperance card is stabilize you with patience and moderation, not force or resistance. It's fitting for a character who was helping Katniss ground herself during Mockingjay.

The Devil: (Shadow self, attachment, addiction, restriction, sexuality) MJ Johanna feels fitting for this. Not because she's the evil, but because she's kind of represents the dark and more negative side of Katniss. As she engages in Katniss' worst habits, such as anger and isolation. And would choose short term gratification and the expense of long term prosperity. But Snow (as the symbol of the capitol) would fit as well. Which is like duuuuh

The Tower: (Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening) Blowing up the 75th Arena or maybe the Capitol bombs??

Star: (Hope, faith, purpose, renewal, spirituality) It's the boy with the bread! Peeta. Originally I was going to give him the Sun, but I felt like Primrose fit better over there. The star brings hope, love and purpose after great turmoil and challenges. And its fitting that Katniss' lover is the star in the sky that guides her.

The Moon: (Illusion, fear, anxiety, subconscious, intuition) Katniss! This is Katniss. All her main motivations in the story are fueled by these factors.

The Sun: (Positivity, fun, warmth, success, vitality) Primrose. The sun card radiates optimism and positivity. Which is fitting for someone who brings so much warmth into Katniss' life.

Judgement: The Mockingjay

The World: (Completion, integration, accomplishment, travel) Toast Babies. Children and children death and suffering. Are the core subjects of the book. The toast babies exists represent the wholeness and achieve of everyone Katniss and the rest of Panem has to suffer to end the games.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 9)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Warning: this chapter contains heavy subject matter and a steamy making out sess, proceed with caution.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

“Effie and I wrote these speeches together.” Y/N assures Katniss and Peeta as Effie doles them out. “Don’t be nervous, nothing crazy.”

Katniss nods.

“Just a few words for the fallen tributes of the district. For eleven that is Thresh and Rue,” Effie says, hoping to put their minds at ease.

At present, they are crammed into one vehicle, transporting them to the justice building. Arista is sat between Katniss and Peeta, a doll in hand. Peeta allows the doll to walk along his leg, occasionally dropping it to one side or the other; causing the little girl to giggle. She shouldn’t be here.

People of the Capitol have sent them gifts from the moment they were born, things much too lavish for district twelve. Such items are sold to peacekeepers and the money funnels back through twelve. Keeping them afloat. Very few offerings they keep, like the doll. A tablet for Everest, just like his mother’s. He taps away at it, almost as if he’s playing a game.

“Can I see?” Katniss asks.

The boy nods, holding it across the isle. It’s an agenda…no, a journal. She realizes. ‘Day one, district eleven. Agriculture. The train is five hours from home.’

Katniss blinks rapidly at the screen before handing it back. He shouldn’t be here. “Thought you were playing a game.”

“I have games.” Everest tells her, “you can pick one to play.”

“Show me your favorite.” Don’t worry about all of this. You’re just a kid.

He smiles. “I like this one. You have to dodge the logs and get the dot from one side to the other.”

“I won’t be very good.” Katniss confesses as he hands it back to her.

“It’s for fun, Katniss.” The boy shrugs, “you don’t have to be good.”

Y/N passes an affectionate hand over her son’s hair.

“When I married Haymitch, there was an understanding. Whatever we had to do to stay alive, we would do. But between him and I was also an understanding; that he loved me and that love is unconditional. He wouldn’t leave me if I was scared, he would be patient. He would wait for me. When there were time restrictions, if we couldn’t wait, he would get me through. I think Peeta could be that person for you, Katniss.”

“You think I should marry Peeta?”

“I think you should be his friend.” Y/N corrects her. “All of this pretending to be in love stuff will come easier, I promise. Do it on your terms, take your time.” While you still have time.

Katniss takes this into consideration. She doesn’t dislike the idea of being with Peeta. But the idea of being with anyone seems impossible to her now. Even out of the arena she no longer feels safe…maybe if they make it back home. After they’ve convinced Snow and the districts. Even then, she doesn’t think she can love anyone the way Y/N loves Haymitch; or be loved the way Haymitch loves her.

What Y/N doesn’t tell her is that their toasting, the one Haymitch asked for when she was ready, did not come until two years after their Capitol wedding. After they’d celebrated two ‘anniversaries’ and Everest’s first birthday. She doesn’t tell her how verbalizing ‘I love you’ is painful for Haymitch… how he cried after telling her for the first time. Because he lost every other person he’s ever loved. How his tears broke her heart, how much they still do.

The vehicle comes to a harsh stop before the engine cuts out.

“Crash landing,” Haymitch remarks.

They are ushered out in a single file line. Y/N, Haymitch and the children are left in the viewing room with Effie and Cinna to watch Katniss and Peeta on stage from the projector.

Nothing can go wrong. Katniss repeats the mantra over and over. Nothing can go wrong.

Peeta does most of the talking, he offered and she couldn’t say no.

Arista pays little attention to what’s happening, too preoccupied with chatting up one of the peacekeepers who is trying to keep a hard exterior.

Everest is slightly more involved, watching the adults around him; gauging their reactions. His mother is anxious, twisting her fingers around the fabric at the back of his father’s jacket.

Cinna catches him staring and smiles. “Can you see?”

Everest nods as all eyes fall on him.

Y/N whispers something to her husband that the little boy can’t make out. Haymitch reaches a hand back then, bringing his son up beside Effie.

The peacekeeper sends Arista back to her parents with a gift. “I got candy.”

“What kind of candy?” Y/N leans down.

“From him,” the girl tells her mother, pointing toward the man in the white suit.

“Did you thank him?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” Y/N boops her little nose. “This is actually one of my favorites, do you think we could trade?”

“Well, what do you have?” Arista arches a brow.

Y/N surrenders her shoulder bag. “Anything you want.”

Arista’s eyes light up, “really?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you, Mommy. Here’s your candy.”

“Thank you.” Y/N accepts the tiny wrapped object. Sliding it into her pocket.

“Both Rue and Thresh were so young. But our lives are not measured in minutes, they’re measured by the lives of those we touch around us. For myself, and for Katniss; we know that without Thresh and without Rue we wouldn’t be standing here today.” Peeta speaks from his heart.

Though their speeches were approved by both mentors and their Capitol escort, they do not have the intended effect. A whistle is heard, three fingers in the air, the nearest peacekeepers drawing batons.

“Get the kids away from the door.” Haymitch bites out.

“What about Katniss and Peeta?” They’re still out there.

“I’ve got them,” he promises.

The audience grows to a distraught holler.

“What’s happening?” Everest turns to his mother.

“Come with me,” Y/N tries to keep calm as she takes his hand, moving quickly towards her daughter. Her bag all but forgotten.

“Mommy, why are they doing that?” Arista asks, seeing the older man being forced up onto the stage by peacekeepers.

“Shh,” Y/N turns her away. Hurrying both children up the stairs.

Hearing Katniss protest from the lower level, “no, please leave him alone.” The doors open and she is removed from the stage.

Y/N sits her babies down on the floor, “cover your ears.” They do as they’re told, looking to their mother for comfort. She kneels, keeping them distracted as best she can; from the screams, from the gun shot, from the cruel world whirling around them.

Haymitch carries Katniss, kicking and screaming, toward the stairs. “What did I do?”

“Shhh,” he hushes her as Peeta follows.

“No, Haymitch! What did I do wrong?”

“Shut up. Get in here.” He closes the door behind them.

“I did everything I was supposed to do.” Katniss says, tears flooding her face.

“Katniss,” Peeta runs his knuckles along her arm; hoping to soothe her.

She steals Peeta’s hand, latching on for comfort. “Just help us get through this trip.”

“This trip?” Haymitch snaps two fingers in front of her, “wake up, girl. This trip doesn’t end when you get home. You never get off this train.”

Katniss’ heart sinks at the realization. They’re still stuck on this train.

“You two are mentors now, which means every year they’re gonna drag you out and broadcast the details of your romance. Your personal life becomes theirs. From now on, your job is to be a distraction so that people forget what the real problems are.”

Peeta’s free hand balls into a fist at his side. “So what do we do?”

“You’re gonna smile, continue reading the cards that Effie gives you and you’re gonna live happily ever after. Think you can do that?” His eyes flicker between the pair.

Peeta nods. Katniss follows reluctantly, after Haymitch pats her cheek. Just like he did before she stepped onto the hovercraft for the games.

“Good,” Haymitch says, with a sad smile. “Come here.”

Still in a state of shock, Katniss steps into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. She watches through the window as the man from eleven’s lifeless body is removed.

“You’re gonna be ok, I promise.”

Katniss knows that her mentors will protect her…and Peeta. Anything she does is a collective loss or gain. Anything she does.

————————————————————————

Y/N manages to get through dinner on the train, choking down her meal after consoling Katniss, who refuses to leave her room. Peeta stays with her, opting for in room dining tonight.

Effie isn’t thrilled, but she understands and the younger children keep her plenty entertained.

Y/N and Haymitch break off before it gets late, tucking Everest and Arista into bed. Then Haymitch wanders down to the bar car, returning with a bottle. Seeing mayhem on the monitors of the control room as he passes.

“How the hell are we gonna fix this, Haymitch?” Y/N demands, the second he returns.

He uncorks the liquor, chugging a bit to get through this round of questioning. “There are ten other districts before the Capitol, they still have a chance to calm things down.”

She nods, swiping at traitorous tears. “How bad is it?”

Riots in the streets. “If all else fails, we have the show with Caesar before Snow’s party.” Setting the bottle aside, he pulls her in, “we’ll fix it.”

Y/N melts into him.

Haymitch tips her chin up. She is beautiful…and broken. Glossy eyes soften at the sight of him, lips parted and flushed from tears. “I love you.” The words claw their way from his throat; more painful to keep in than let out.

She kisses him then. Hot and hard, a little sloppy.

Haymitch cups the base of her neck, surrendering to the unrelenting force that is Y/N. The push and pull of her, the need for her.

Falling onto the mattress, lost in the heat of it. Something drops from Y/N’s dress as it’s discarded. The candy.

“You saving this for later?” Haymitch chuckles, holding it between them.

“Traded Arista for it.” Y/N admits, tossing the candy aside. “She got it off a peacekeeper. I’m sure it’s fine but…”

“Can’t risk it,” Haymitch agrees.

“Didn’t want to make a scene either, Everest is watching like a hawk.” She rolls off of him, onto her back.

“These kids,” Haymitch sighs. A gentle hand finds her bump, tracing patterns over the skin there.

————————————————————————

“We want to share with you the sorrows of your losses.” Katniss reads directly from the cards. In districts nine and ten, the crowd was calm. Now in district eight, two members of the crowd raise three fingers into the air. “The tributes of this district-” she breaks off as peacekeepers remove them from the scene; looking to Haymitch and Y/N.

They are no longer left in the viewing room, able to jump in and corral their victors if need be. Showing face to the masses to help calm them. Katniss wonders what kind of deals they had to make to be standing here with them.

Haymitch nods, encouraging her to continue. Y/N follows suit when Peeta’s eyes fall to her, jaw clenched. This is what we have to do. This is what they make us do.

Katniss picks up where she left off. “Were brave and noble warriors, who brought honor to their families and pride to their people. We are all of us united, both victors and vanquished, in serving a common purpose. The power and glory of the Capitol. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.”

People from districts three through seven are outraged with this speech, this falsehood, this injustice to the girl they saw in the arena. The Capitol won’t eat your soul, that is a fate much too kind for a victor. They break your connections, they make you theirs.

Districts one and two are more easily swayed, buying into the notion that the games are something to celebrate. The little girl who presents Katniss with flowers tells her that she wants to volunteer; just like she did.

The nightmares come and Peeta stays with Katniss most nights, helping each other survive.

Everest and Arista find ways to occupy themselves. Madge steps in when their parents have to tend the crushing weight of their titles. Tomorrow ends in the Capitol; Caesar and Snow, all in one night.

Y/N sits, legs crossed, beside Haymitch on the gray satin bench of the train car. Katniss and Peeta directly across from them.

“Snow is watching us.” Haymitch says, as if anyone could forget. “If he wants you to pacify the districts, I promise you, he’s not happy. Instead of being in love, you two sound like you’re reciting from a drilling manual.”

“I’m open to suggestions.” Peeta turns his palms up, they’re all grasping at straws now.

Y/N leans forward, “I think-”

“We could get married.” Katniss meets her gaze when she says it.

“That’s not helping,” Haymitch taps a finger against his glass.

Peeta’s eyes never leave Katniss. Of all the times he’s thought about it, wanted it even; someday in the future, when it was real. Not like this, never like this.

“I’m serious.” Katniss decides, “if we’re on this train forever it’s gonna happen eventually, why not now?”

“It does make a statement,” Haymitch huffs a laugh, “I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, sure.” Peeta rises to his feet, “let’s do it.”

“Wait.” Y/N reaches out a hand to catch him, “we still have the show. We can find another way, something else to feed these people and keep them at bay for a while.”

“Like what?” Peeta plops back down in his seat.

“Like a baby.” Y/N forces the poofy skirt of her dress to lie flat against her bump.

“No, if you’re giving them that, we’re giving them the proposal.” Peeta protests. Y/N and Haymitch have already given away too much.

Katniss nods in agreement.

“Alright then,” Haymitch drinks to that, “let’s give them a night they’ll never forget.”

Part 10

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69

[evita-shelby]

They did not know we were seeds

Chapter 1

Cw: mentions of drug abuse, death.

Tagging: @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings

There is something about the girl from Ten that reminds her of Lucy Gray.

Perhaps it was the colors in her blouse’s embroidery that defied the soul crushing weight of the Capitol’s boot on her district’s metaphorical neck, or that defiant smile she wore as they presented her as the chosen tribute.

She did not sing, she did not stuff a snake down a girl’s shirt, but that freckled girl with tan skin and wavy dark hair was Lucy Gray Baird come back to life. Coriolanus and Gaul have seen it too and so it falls on Tigris to protect her from their poison even if she cannot save her from the arena.

“I will style District 10, if you have any complaints about it, you may bring them to President Snow.” Tigris flashed her feline smile at her fellow stylists, already having Eva Smith’s outfits decided.

Eva Smith and her male counterpart, manage to impress the Capitol citizens with their covey-like colors, those who still remember Lucy Gray fondly are the first to sponsor her.

The Tigress knows she will lose her coveted spot, but Cinna and Portia are more than capable of holding their own now. It will be worth it, she reminds herself as she remakes Lucy Gray’s dress from memory.

Coriolanus will know she means to sever the last bond holding them together.

Tribute Eva Smith will be Snow’s greatest nightmare.

Eva doesn’t trust the tiger woman.

Nor her escort, nor her mentor who can’t seem to remember her name and calls her Maria more often than not. It wasn’t their fault, about half the girls in 10 are named Maria or Mary. Her mentor’s own daughter was named Mary, and now thinks all brown haired girls are her.

Eva Smith was just a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday the day she was reaped. All those between the ages of twelve and eighteen had to come from all corners of the district to the Justice Square and awaited their fates in their Sunday’s best.

She wore a blue skirt that reached her shins and a blouse that once belonged to her dead sister, Feli had worn it for her wedding. Spent all her savings for colorful threads from the only haberdasher who had them.

She wears fine cowboy boots even she as an apothecary’s only child can’t afford, brown leather boots with a matching belt and hat band. The rainbow ruffles of her skirt match the feathers on her hat and the embroidery in her partner’s charro outfit.

They are called beautiful by those who send them to their deaths.

At least the tiger woman knew enough to respect their district’s culture, Eva thinks as she sees the district 12 tributes dresses as miners and dusted with soot.

“You remind of someone, a girl from the districts who no one thought she’d win.” The woman smiles as docile as a kitten. But even kittens scratch, and even big cats can feign innocence just like the woman before her.

She must be lying, twelve has never had a female victor. As if sensing her skepticism, Tigris Snow clarifies it was on the early games when no one watched and most Victors too old to be alive.

Eva’s Mentor was from the 17th, she was as old as Mags Flanagan from 4. She barely remembered anything these days because she once took morphine when her only child, Mary Anne, was reaped at the last Quarter Quell and she never recovered.

“How did she win?” Eva asks. Not everyone wins by killing, some hide it out and manage to survive. Twelve’s past victor had already taken to curing his sorrows with a bottle, but he had used the forcefield in the arena to win. Perhaps this victor had a strategy.

“Someone risked everything to take her to victory.” The tiger said with nostalgia, as if that had been a sweet, beautiful thing and not a hellish nightmare. “An alliance so strong he gave up everything for her victory.”

But it was a strange strategy, to rely on an alliance so strong the male tribute chose to die for the girl. Eva knows she is charming and pretty, but she doesn’t know if that will be enough to buy her a truce with the presumed winner of this game: Laurentius Nelson, twin brother of last year’s victor.

And yet when she catches his eye at the mandatory training, Eva considers the strategy. Her mentor’s strategy was just to run and pray they don’t find you.

Who says she cannot try both?

“Call me Laurie.” He is more boy than man, even if he is exactly like his brother. Had the games come five months or so later, Eva would be the same age as them.

Laurie is tall, broad shouldered, handsome even, and his blue eyes don't have brown at their center like his brother. He has freckles and has yet to lose that boyish innocence his brother lacks. Except for that, they are identical.

He doesn’t know hunger, or necessity like even she has and yet his district trains killers. Whether they kill at the games or as peacekeepers makes no difference for them.

“Eva, but you may call me whatever you like.” she gives him her best smile and swallows the guilt she already feels for doing this.

If she lives, she may learn to trust the Tiger Woman and hate her for this.

[3fluffies]

New Fic: Songs of War (Hunger Games AU)

Songs of War: Sequel to Favors. AU of Mockingjay. The Second Rebellion erupts after destruction of the 76th Hunger Games arena and rescue of the tributes, but some of the victors and the rebel victors' families are in the Capitol's hands. Katniss, Haymitch, their fellow victors, and loved ones from home all struggle to make a difference in the chaos and pain of war and keep their eyes on the goal of true freedom and justice for the Districts. And even though it's been two years since Peeta suicided in the 74th arena to hand her the crown, Katniss still has him to lean on.

Prologue: Strangers in a Strange Land. Katniss has reunited with the other victors and the survivors of District 12's destruction in District 13, where they take the first steps into a Panem at war. Johanna realizes her new relationship with Cinna isn't as secret as she thought.

Enjoy! Discussion and debate joyfully welcomed, as are questions and criticism of all kinds!  Feedback! My kingdom for feedback!

[kahlanmars]

BAD FEELING part. 21

HELLO. This time we are back with l-words and star missions. This is a bit of a pre-chapter, they talk a lot here and in the next one there will be action. Who wants a protective Haymitch??

MASTERLIST

21. Come back to me

When they finally allow you to see Peeta he is a wreck. He is so pale and thin it almost scares you, his golden hair is less and less now, and he has no light in his eyes. But he slowly gets better, and by the end of the month his progress is astounding. 

The only thing the doctors can’t quite put a hand on is how his mind works. They tortured him into thinking Katniss is the enemy - and he tried to strangle her the first time they met - but he is not a robot, he thinks and slowly, with patience, he begins to understand Katniss’s memories are not real, that she is a good person and she loves him. 

On the other hand, Katniss is magnificent with him. She really wants him back. She is cunning and she resists his verbal attacks with a willpower you are not sure you have. 

You spend most of the time at school, then with Peeta (you take turns to never leave him alone with the guards, you are not sure Thirteen is the right place with him) or with Effie. 

Never with your mother. You say hello in the morning and goodbye at night, that’s it. You stupidly thought after the bombs she was going to say something more to you, but you were wrong. As glacial as ice. 

«Effs?» You call her, in the middle of the night. You are supposed to sleep, to gain strength, but you can’t shake a bad feeling.

«Mh?» She answers without moving. It’s a miracle she doesn’t hate you. 

Truth is you miss her. You were her job before, but now she has her girlfriend and you have Haymitch, and in the cafeteria there are always Portia, Lora and Finnick too, which is great because they are your friends but you miss your Effie.

«Do you think we will win the war?»

She tightens the grip on your hip and opens her eyes. «Yeah, I think so.»

«Do you think it’s a good thing?» You whisper.

You are playing with fire. You were so cautious before, when President Snow was in the game, but now you are exhausted from pretending everything is fine and you agree with the regime.

«Of course honey.» She looks at you like you are crazy. The rooms are probably bugged. A good government doesn’t bug your room.

«I don’t like Snow. He is horrible, I'm just… I’m just tired. And if we win and everything is ruled by Thirteen do you think they will hurt you? Or Portia?»

Alma Coin is not a good person. You run out of ideas of who would be a good person, maybe Cinna, but Cinna is not a leader, he is someone who believes in the revolution but he is not a politician. 

Still, Alma Coin is not a good person, she’s another Snow. You don’t doubt for a moment she will revoke the immunity for Capitol citizens as soon as the people want justice. And Effie, Portia, even Cinna, they all come from Capitol, they are still weird to Thirteen people, the perfect scapegoat.

«No, we have immunity, so… don’t worry about me and sleep, Daisy.»

You can’t shake the feeling, but you can pretend to sleep not to worry her.

In the morning you go to class and then straight to Haymitch’s room, because you know he has a break from Coin. The more time you are in Thirteen the more you loathe that woman, but anything is better than Snow. 

The moment you open the door you sense something is not right, though. His eyes are grey-er than usual. 

«What’s wrong? I know that look.»

You watch him. You watch him a lot, because you are completely smitten by him, and you know now when he is really relaxed and when he tries to lie to you. He frowns for a while, then he tries to go blank, no expression whatsoever.

«Nothing.» He murmurs. He is a liar. A bad one.

«Don’t “nothing” me. We are partners, you and I. Equals.» You go near him and you begin to massage his shoulders. When he closes his eyes and melts at your touch, you press a kiss on his mouth. 

«They want you to go on the mission with Katniss’s team to kill Snow.» He reveals. 

«Oh.» 

You are barely aware there is going to be a mission to do something at the Capitol, because you are not part of the headquarters, you are a civilian. Then again, there is no such thing as a civilian in Thirteen, every member has to be a soldier.

You are not thrilled by the idea, you are not good with anything, never put a hand on a gun, nevermind a rifle, but…

«I don’t trust this place, Sweetheart.» He takes your hand and he kisses your wrist, and in that moment he is really, really shattered. Katniss is not okay, Peeta has been tortured and now they want you back in action. To protect him, you really think you are not going, but then you remember that maybe, just maybe, you are telling yourself that because you are too scared.

«I think it’s fair.» You say after a moment, almost sheeply. 

His eyes grow wide. «What?»

«I survived the Hunger Games, I have more training than most in District 13. And if they called me, they called Lora and Perla too, didn’t they?» 

«That’s not the point.» So they did call Lora and Perla too, and he is not stopping them from going.

«But it kinda is. They have to go and I don’t? Why? Because I sleep with you?» You slip into his lap. «This is hardly fair.»

He stays silent for a moment. He hugs you tight, his face buried in your raven hair and his hands clenching on your jumpsuit. 

«You are not a warrior, gorgeous. You know that.» He strokes your locks. «You are great with people, but… you are a teacher, not a soldier.»

«I killed Clark and the Capitol guy. I am fast.» You reply. You really don’t want to go, but you don’t want to be a coward either.

«Annie is not going, maybe you-» You shake your head. There’s no point in comparing you with Annie Cresta, she is severely traumatised and you are fine. If you weren’t you wouldn’t stay with children.

«Annie is sick. We have to protect her. I’m young and strong, I have to go. We are in a war, Haymitch.» 

He looks down and you just sense he wants a bottle so bad now. You clasp your arms on his neck and you kiss him, and you can see his eyes are a little shiny.

«I’m not losing you too.»

«You won’t lose me because I’ll survive this too. You remember that I decided to stay with you for a long time? Besides, Katniss is going there.»

«Katniss has to. Trust me, if I could I’d put her on the first train and hide her from the world, the boy too, but she is the Mockingjay. But you, you can still be safe.»

«I’m not leaving Perla and Lora alone.» You repeat, your arms around his neck. «I’m sorry.»

This is the first time in a long time that you don’t follow his instructions. 

The mission just makes a conversation more pressing than before. Everyday you get up and you think you are going to talk to her, and then you spend the rest of the day avoiding her because you are scared.

You are scared she will reject you, she will see the person that you are now, so different from the district girl she used to know. It’s true, that part. You barely remember the girl you were, working twenty four seven to still be hungry, not talking much. She was beloved in Twelve, though. So polite, so kind.

You tend to be less kind now that you have blood on your hands.

«Mom?» 

You call her from the corridor. The only moment you have is in the afternoon, before going to bed. Thirteen has a curfew, and you decided to go to Haymitch after this so you are in a hurry.

«Daisy.» She smiles at you. She always smiles at you, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s frustrating. 

«I’m going with the Star Team tomorrow morning. Can we… can we talk?» You hate how you sound, like you never made any progress. When you talk to your mother you still behave like a frightened child.

«Of course but, you? You are going?» You wish everyone stopped having this reaction.

«I’ve had the training for the Hunger Games and I’m fast, and in Thirteen anyone can be a soldier, so yes. Me.» You explain.

«And that victor of yours can’t do anything about it?» She asks again, a little worried.

«He tried but I didn’t want to, I don’t think it’s fair.»

«Oh. Well, I suppose… I suppose you are doing the right thing.» That’s great, coming from her. She has always been a “you are doing what you have to do, it is just your duty” mom.

You don’t have much time, but also Holly is not a chatty person. 

«I love him, mama.» You begin, and you go on before she could stop you because you are not sure you will have the courage to keep up with her. «And I adore Effie Trinket, she has been a great help during the games. She associated herself with the rebels, you know. But that is not the point, the point is that I may not have all your ideas now and I don’t always think like you think, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore. I was your child and you raised me to be strong and kind. I always try to be strong and kind, but I’m not a child. I’m an adult. I can make my decisions and I can make my mistakes, and I’m sorry if you don’t like the person I am now, but I’ve become that person partly because of you.»

She looks at you stunned, her dark hair falling out of her braid, and her hazel eyes wide open. It is funny, you are adopted but you two look alike. 

«Who said I don’t like you anymore?» She whispers to you.

«Well, you made it clear. We don’t talk anymore…»

«No, no! That is not right at all!» She pulls you into a hug so tight you gasp for air after a moment. «I needed some time to understand the… Haymitch situation. I tried to talk to you, I tried to talk to him, but in the end you two are a thing and I have to accept this.» I tried to talk to him?, you think, but now it’s not the time to be angry again.

«But you are always with Marjorie…» You sound unsure.  

«She is not your enemy, you know.» She shakes her head. «And she was a great friend, I thought for a long time she was dead. It has been a bit of a shock for me too. And I was so proud of you when you saved her.»

«You didn’t tell me.»

«Oh, we people of Twelve, we don’t talk that much, do we? But I am. And I’m sorry if you thought otherwise.»

This time is your turn to hug her again, and everything feels peaceful for the first time in months. 

«You do have a room, don't you?» Haymitch asks you, glancing at the bed where you are reading right now.

Not quite the welcome you expect from your not boyfriend. You are reading a novel - one of his novels - on his bed, in your bra and panties because you hate that stupid jumpsuit that doesn't do any justice to your body. 

You know these are hard days, but you wanted to do a good thing for him. It was supposed to be a surprise the day before the leaving. A coordinated lingerie, thanks to Effie's closet of course, you love a woman who knows what to bring in an emergency situation.

«Aren't you happy to see me?» You close your book. «Effie wants some alone time in our room and I thought I’d want some Haymitch time.» Effie wants to stay with Portia, but you don’t know if it’s a secret or not. 

«I’m tired, Daisy.» Oh-oh, it’s never good when he calls you Daisy. «And your things are all over this fucking place.»

You lift your eyebrows. «Excuse me?» 

«This is yours.» He takes a bracelet. «And this too.» He lifts a bra with his fingers. Oh, there it is! You thought you lost it. 

«You tossed it last night, so I think it’s your fault more than mine.» You try to joke, but he only sits with a sigh. This is humiliating. And a humiliated Daisy is a raging Daisy. You can’t help but think that he is that way with you because you didn’t blindly follow his orders for the first time. 

«Oh, I'm sorry, is your smoking hot naked partner in front of you bothering you?» You get up, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. This is so you, using sex as a distraction. Maybe you should have gone to Perla and Lora instead. 

«Maybe if the partner behaves like a child.» He scoffs. This is preposterous. You didn’t do anything wrong this time. 

«Really? Do you think I'm a child?» You are twenty four. He is forty one. It’s not even twelve years of difference. 

«If it walks like a duck…» He dismisses you. 

«Maybe you are just old.» You don’t want to open the door, because you are, well, naked, but if he forces you you will go into the corridor with just your bra. To spite him. You do a lot of things out of spite, sometimes you even save lives out of spite.

«Maybe I'm old! I've been trying to tell you since forever.» He shouts this time. You really don’t like when he shouts at you.

«And maybe the problem is not that you are old, the problem is that you are a dick!»

You stand in front of each other, you are looking at him like you want to murder him and he is so annoyed by you he… he is all over you in the blink of an eye, kissing your lips like there is no tomorrow.

«If I’m losing you for a fucking mission, Sweetheart...» He whispers, his teeth teasing the flesh of your chest. «I don’t care about them, I don’t care about the government if it means losing you.»

You take his hair in your fist to force him to look at you. He is telling you dangerous things, and you have no doubt the place is bugged from head to toe.

«You are not losing me.» You whisper, partly because you want him to be quiet and partly because he is on you.

«Promise me.» Last time it worked. Last time you promised him something you got out of the Hunger Games alive.

«I promise you.» You kiss him. 

«I’m sorry I shouted.» He tells you after a moment. You prefer the kisses. It feels like an excuse. 

«You were worried…» You minimise it. 

«No. I’m sorry.»

«You know I decided to have you, right? You said I always end up having what I want. I don’t stop when I want something. And I want a life with you, you don’t get to decide.» You joke, opening his suit buttons. «I have to stay alive for that.»

He decides to humour you, and he rolls his eyes. «You are lucky that I like you.»

«You are lucky that I love you!» You deadpan before you realise what you just said. The L-word. You know he doesn’t feel the same, but maybe it’s right that he knows it, just in case you die tomorrow. «I’m sorry I-»

«No, it’s alright, you…» 

«I, I…» You swallow, embarrassed. «I am naked so maybe you should do something about it.»

«No, wait.» He takes your hand and he kisses it. «Just because I don’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.» 

«You don’t feel it.» You say back to him, sure. You can sense it. He doesn’t love you yet. Maybe in time. Maybe never. He loved one girl and he lost her. And he thinks that loving someone for him is like a curse or something. 

«If you die out there and I have told you…» He seems desperate. You kiss him just to calm him down. «If you die…»

«I won’t die. I promised.»

«Come back to me.» 

«I always come back to you.»

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