#Johanna Mason

[faunshiii]

johanna!!!!!

[adarksun]

Like I think I wanna hear about Johanna’s life but, also I think knowing it from a distance is emotionally preferable. Maybe like Coin in 13 watching her get ripped apart and going to Plutarch and being like let’s get her! It still would be morbid but also revealing of how Coin was echoing Snow by wanting compliance, revenge, and a legacy.

here’s a little meme I made

[1/3]

[jarbirdart]

here’s some more of my hunger games drawings hope you like!

lucy gray, snow, finnick, johanna, madge, and cinna

oh lucy gray baird how i love you

[trampled-and-melting]

you know, i don't see why people always seem to take johanna mason at face value. i've read so many fics where she knows she's going to win basically from the reaping. and there's nothing wrong with that take on the character, of course, but i find it odd how few people do anything else with her.

like. she was a teenage girl from an outlying district. district seven, by the quell, has no other living female victors. none. which means they probably didn't during johanna's games either, and if they did, she was most likely elderly. those are fucking intimidating odds. johanna wasn't a volunteer. she didn't wake up that morning particularly expecting to be reaped, she had practically no time to prepare for it. she was probably already malnourished.

if i, personally, were in a situation like that, i'd probably cry at the reaping. i'd probably be a little reticent in my interview. i'd probably focus on running and hiding in the arena. i'd be terrified. anyone would be.

and then, if i hit an eleventh hour, got sick of the running and hiding, stopped caring about my own safety quite so much, and stood up and found a weapon i knew how to use and somehow fucking won.

yeah. i'd probably tell people i planned it like that from the beginning too. i never really thought i was going to die. all that crying for my family was totally just an act. i was secretly an ax-murdering badass the whole time. i always knew i had the capacity for murder. haha. aren't i clever?

[imisslucasbaker]

HUNGER GAMES TWEETS #13

richie posting more of these after a year of nothing thg related??? more likely than you think!!

[heartssofkyber]

JOHANNA MASON and FINNICK ODAIR The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013)

[cabotwife]

Finnick x victor!reader where reader returns from the Capitol to district 13 (after like torture and stuff), and Finnick comes to the realization that Snow started selling her while she held there? Only if you’re comfortable ofc.

Guilded Lily

finnick odair x fem!victor!reader

warnings: ooc finnick(?), not proofread, alludes to sa/forced prostitution

word count: 747

a/n: i don't usually write for male character bc i'm a lesbian and well- i'm not attracted to them.. but finnick is an exception. all the lesbians love finnick.

you can’t remember the moment they pulled you out of the capitol.

not really.

one minute you were burning up, bones dissolving under electric shocks, white lights breaking into kaleidoscopic shards behind your eyes. then there was darkness, clean sheets, the muted hush of underground air systems, and a woman’s voice. not sweet, but somehow kind.

“you are safe now.”

you don’t believe her.

.☘︎ ́˖

now you’re standing in a concrete corridor in District 13, wrapped in a standard issue gray sweater that swallows your sunken frame. you weigh less than you did when you won your games. you had always believed that was going to be your lowest point. you were wrong.

the door slides open with a soft hiss, and he’s there.

his hair is pushed back messily, as if he’d tried to look presentable but gave up halfway. there’s a tremor in his fingers that’re clenched by his sides. you wonder if it’s from seeing you or if that’s just his usual state nowadays.

you stare at each other for a short moment.

“hey,” he says, soft as the sea breeze.

you don’t answer. you just move past him into the room. it’s small, clean. the walls feel closer than they should.

“you’re back,” he speaks again.

he doesn’t mean it as a question, but you still say, “yeah.”

he’s quiet. you sit on the edge of the bed, knees together, handing clenched so tight that your nails dig crescents into your palms. there’s blood under some of them. old blood. your blood.

he crouches down in front of you.

his eyes flick over your face. you know what he sees.. the healing scabs under your jaw, the too-sharp cheekbones, the faint burn marks under your ears. you hate that you still flinch when he reaches up, but he doesn’t pull away. his hand is warm. familiar.

but the way he looks at you now, it’s not just pain.

“i asked them what had been done to you,” he says quietly. “they wouldn’t tell me.”

you look past him to the gray wall. it feels safer than his face.

he breathes out, voice catching. “but i know.”

your jaw tightens. you didn’t want him to say it.

“i know what snow does,” he says. “i know what he did to me. i should’ve realized–”

“don’t,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “don’t say it.”

“he sold you, didn’t he.” it’s not a question.

you wish you could lie. you wish you could say that you just don’t remember. that it wasn’t that bad. but there’s nothing left to protect. no dignity to shatter. not anymore.

you nod. just barely.

finnick stands up too fast. he paces the room like the air is choking him.

he runs both hands through his hair and then slams his fist into the wall. not hard enough to break it, just hard enough to make it hurt.

“i should’ve known,” he says. “i should’ve–”

“it wasn’t your fault, finn,” you say.

but he’s not listening. he’s spiraling, and you know that feeling too well.

“i kept thinking–i kept hoping you were dead,” he says. his voice breaks halfway through his sentence.

you stand up and cross the room to him.

“well i’m not dead. i’m here. with you.”

he looks at you like he doesn’t believe it.

you reach for his hand. he doesn’t flinch, not like you did. he just wraps his fingers around yours and holds on like it might keep you both from drowning.

you lean your forehead against his cheek. he smells like soap and something earthy. a little like home. if that even still means anything.

“did he make you talk?” you ask. the words are barely audible.

he knows what you mean.

“yeah,” he says.

you close your eyes. “me too.”

he presses a kiss to your hairline. it’s too soft for how broken you’re both feeling. but that’s the thing about finnick; he has always known how to be gentle. even when no one was gentle with him.

for a long time neither of you say anything.

then, he whispers, “i’m going to kill him.”

you don’t ask who. it’s not just a sentence anymore, an empty threat you both would pass around every time something happened. no. now it’s a vow.

you pull back just enough to look at him in the eyes.

you’re not whole

but neither is he.

but you’re both here.

and that’s something.

or maybe it’s everything.

[cbrcbbr]

ma shaylas

[sunshine-photo-frame]

first catching fire re-read post sotr and there's ofc a multitude of things, however idk if I'm seeing anyone else talk about this specific thing which is CHAFF. and WHAT WAS HE UP TO in that arena

so him and haymitch were close and obviously haymitch is now confirmed badboy rebel rule breaker troublemaker, so it kinda makes sense for chaff to be the same? something like refusing a prosthetic arm, a bit of a smack in the face to the capitol. 11 is mentioned as having knowledge of the plan to break the arena and escape to 13, but in catching fire it's not confirmed how either seeder or chaff is killed in the arena. them and district 8 are the district pairs with knowledge of the rebel plan who don't end up in the alliance (or at least interacting with katniss and peeta in the alliance) during their time in the arena.

seeder, along with the two tributes from 8 (cecelia and woof my babies) and one from 6, is killed at some unknown point in the bloodbath. bur then chaff apparently doesn't make any effort at all throughout the games to connect with katniss' alliance, whether to hunt or help them. the arena is small and katniss & co spend plenty of time on the beach, in the open. the arena is small. they're not hard to find.

chaff is not with the career pack. he spends his time alone. it would make plenty of sense for him to join the allies - a friend of haymitch would have to be a friend of katniss and peeta's, plus he and seeder knew at least something of the plan. so why didn't he join them? why wouldn't he seek them out to better protect katniss & peeta and further ensure the success and security of beetee's scheme?? finnick and johanna clearly had good communication with haymitch, so would know which of the districts were in in the plan and joining the alliance, right? neither finnick or johanna ever really mention chaff - a strong, capable and popular tribute - yet make extreme effort to rescue mags and wiress, who are realistically liabilities who aren't essential to the plan. so where was chaff? why never make any effort to find him??

unless he had a job. a specific role. a task. set by plutarch or beetee or himself. who knows. but why else would he prowl the arena alone??

call me crazy but what if there was a sub-team, of sorts. 8 and 11. maybe 6. but it didn't work out like it did for katniss and finnick, and most of them lost their lives in the bloodbath. so chaff had to go it alone. but he still had a job, a task that he NEEDED to fulfil.

I'm also now seeing a striking resemblance to thresh - prowling the arena alone, mysterious. perhaps on a mission? whether personal or from the rebels, I firmly believe that these two were both up to something at their respective games. think of haymitch, going it alone to achieve his goal, a child sent as an operative to hurt the arena and the capitol and snow. surely chaff had a larger purpose than going it alone for his own safety. especially after all we learn about him and haymitch and seeder and thresh and district 11. and plutarch doesn't like to be unprepared, right? so maybe there were even more ploys in that arena. further scemes and plans and moving parts. who knows what thresh might have been up to.

just a thought.

[ninjapiratelady]

Also, Haymitch and Effie are married. No, I do not take criticism.

Maybe they have a couple kids. Either way, they're the super loving, but embarrassing, grandparents.

Madge should have lived so that she and Gale could have had the best background haters to reluctant acquaintances to besties in denial to lovers relationship.

Then Katniss gets to have two people to talk to about her Peeta problems and when she's like "IDK if I love him 😕" and Madge just smiles cause yes, you do, but imma let you figure it out on your own time. And Gale just rolls his eyes and walks away cause ffs Katniss, you idiot, go get your husband.

And then Katniss, instead of having to deal with Gale's bullshit in MJ, she gets the pleasure of watching her besties fall in love with each other in real time and she's trying - horribly - to give them relationship advice. Also that one part where Gale's like "I think Finnick likes you" it's out of genuine concern and not jealousy and then Madge laughs her ass off cause "no he doesn't Gale, he misses his wife and she misses her husband and they're best friend bonding over shared trauma". After that, Gale's jealous of Finnick - not because he thinks he loves Katniss but because bro, that is MY bestie get your own.

Also, with platonic bestie everthorne, Prim's death is that much more heartbreaking. Now, instead of being someone that Katniss is mildly annoyed with consistently because she doesn't know if she loves him or Peeta, they're best friends. She tells him (and Madge) everything and she loves him (platonic). And then, she goes from having him as a constant to not being able to look him in the eye and being devastated knowing it wasn't really his fault but she can't seperate him from that event. They grow apart, and, by extension, so do her and Madge.

But because I like happy endings, Gale and Madge move to D2 and Gale tills part of their backyard so Madge can grow a garden and there's a whole section for strawberries. They get married and have a few kids and they're happy. And they make regular trips to 12 to visit Gale's family and also Haymitch (who has lowkey had a soft spot for Madge from afar her whole life because of her icon of an aunt).

It takes a few years, but Peeta and Madge meet each other at the bakery one day and spend a couple hours catching up. Peeta tells Katniss, who then (she denies it) comes with Peeta to the bakery "to help" (to maybe catch Madge). Madge comes by and they reunite and Madge speaks on Gale's behalf about how awful he feels, but she tells Katniss that she understands why she can't forgive him. They decide to remain friends.

The Hawthornes visit 12 a few more times before Katniss decides she's ready to see Gale again. They meet up (with their spouses in tow so they don't have to be alone) and he apologizes and she maybe slowly starts to heal a little more. As a little more time passes, she forgives him for something that wasn't technically his fault and they all become best friends again just in time for Gale and Madge to be the first toast baby's honorary aunt and uncle.

They all stay besties till the very end and their kids are besties and Haymitch is Grandpa Haymitch to the Hawthorne and Toast babies and they all live happily ever after the end.

[disgurrr]

Maysilee Donner reminds me so much of Johanna Mason. Both cruelly nickname people, both full of rage and hatred. But, my gosh whenever they open their mouth, you can’t help but listen and applaud them. They are fearless, but tragic and layered.

[allisluv]

JOHANNA GIVING READER SNACKS WHEN HER BLOOD SUGAR IS SLOW WLW

Ok thanks honey 🤭-

whipped.

pairing: johanna mason x fem!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, johanna is in fact whipped, alcohol, brief mention of the drinks used in the capitol to make you sick, low blood sugars and diabetes, my limited medical knowledge but i pinky promise i tried my best, teasing, use of pet-names.

authors note: i myself do not have diabetes so please correct me if anything i said is portrayed incorrectly! i did try my best to research and my intentions are never to cause any harm or offence <3 // reblogs and comments are appreciated!

word count: 0.9k

Johanna Mason has been described as many, many things in her very short lifetime; cold-hearted, blunt, manipulative, sneaky, rude--- now that she thinks of it, almost every negative adjective to ever exist has been attributed to her at least once.

And honestly? She wouldn't say they're wrong. It's not that she wants to be any of those things. She just kind of... is. And, well, she figures it is far too late in her life to change her tune now. Besides, there would be no point, not when this lifestyle works for her.

She doesn't mind them thinking badly of her, really. They're Capitol-- they drink alcohol specifically designed to make them sick with the sole purpose of eating more, meanwhile people in the districts have their ribs on display.

Their selfish opinions do not matter in the slightest to her, but at the same time, she doesn't mind playing into it, either. Half of them think she will jam a carving knife into their jugular if they approach her, so they steer clear, which works just fine for her.

Johanna hates these Capitol galas, anyway. She loathes the bright colours and the obnoxious outfits and the food that shouts greed! in everybody's faces.

If it weren't mandatory to attend the galas, she would avoid them. But unfortunately for her, it is mandatory, so she just has to suck it up for another five hours.

Great.

The one thing that makes this awful situation even remotely bearable is you.

When she grips a flask of champagne so tightly that it turns into a very real possibility that it might shatter in her hand, you redirect her attention and it's easier to breathe.

When a drunk Capitol citizen decides to be brave enough to strike up a conversation with the two of you, she's grateful when you swoop in and manage to come up with excuse after excuse on why you have to leave.

Everything is easier with you.

Johanna is in the middle of scowling at two women from the Capitol who keep going on and on about this years upcoming games when she catches sight of a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She watches as you sway on your feet and grasp the corner of a nearby sofa to steady yourself.

She frowns, stepping closer to you and securing an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. "Are you okay?" You nod and give her a weak smile that she can see right through. "Bullshit."

One of the Capitol women smiles into her glass of wine. "Well, looks like someone can't handle their liquor, huh?" Her friend dissolves into a fit of giggles.

Johanna resists the urge to snap back at them, and instead, focuses in on you. "Babe. You done with the bullshitting?"

You try to brush her hand off and insist, "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just got a bit dizzy is all."

A crease forms between her sharp brows. She doesn't bother saying goodbye as she steers you away from the women and out of the gala, into a secluded hallway. "Have you checked your sugars lately?"

You shake your head and she heaves a sigh, helping you sit down in a leather armchair.

She kneels down by your feet and takes your unsteady hands in hers. "Give me your bag. C'mon."

You unloop your bag from around your body and hand her it. She digs through the contents until she finds your blood glucose meter.

She's done this many a time before. She inserts the test strip into the meter and uses the lancing device to prick your pointer finger. A quiet wince of pain hisses from your lips and she mutters a quiet, "I know, I know. I'm sorry." She squeezes the blood onto the test strip and holds your other hand as she waits for the reading. A number flashes on the screen, far too low for her liking, and she frowns. "You're a little low. We need to get those sugars up, alright?"

Johanna wastes no time in rooting through your bag for the juice box you keep stashed in there for emergencies like this one. She pops the straw through the hole at the top and raises it to your parted lips. Her free hand rests on your knee, and she smooths the pad of her thumb up and over your skin as you take slow sips.

Once she's satisfied, she sits back on her heels and sets the juice box down on the floor beside her. "We're gonna wait a while for that to get into your system, okay, sweetheart? Then we can check again, and if they aren't up, we can try the skittles."

There's a moment of quiet, where the only sounds come from inside the ballroom down the hall.

You lean back in the leather armchair as Johanna continues to hold your hand. "You don't have to do this, you know." You say eventually.

"Do what?" Johanna frowns.

"Take care of me. You don't have to."

"I know that," She nods, and as if she can read your mind, she says, "I am not doing this out of obligation, you know that, right? I'm simply doing this because I love you."

A small, tired smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "Finnick was right."

She cocks her head to one side. "How do you mean?"

"He told me you were whipped. I just didn't believe him."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffs. "I am the furthest thing from whipped, all have you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"So, if I asked you to go get me a bottle of water, you would?"

"Why? Do you want water? I can go get some--"

You grin victoriously. "See? Whipped!"

[foxdoodles]

had a go at drawing johanna!!

[theknifegirlfromdistricttwo]

"We do want you. You shook up the Capitol, both figuratively and literally, with that earthquake. You were capable of imagining a different future. And maybe it won't be realized today, maybe not in our lifetime. Maybe it will take generations. We're all part of a continuum. Does that make it pointless?" (SOTR, pg. 377)

[cabotwife]

Can you do a Johanna mason x fem!ADHD!reader?? I love how you write Johanna.

All I've Ever Known

Johanna Mason x Fem!ADHD!Reader

warnings: poorly written, ooc Johanna(?), not proofread,

word count: 1230

a/n: i don't really like how this came out but i was just so happy to get a Johanna req again💔

𔓘

you’ve always had a noisy brain.

not noisy in the way that you or others can actually hear it. not noisy in a way you could ever really explain. just.. always on. jumping, flipping, running laps, tripping over itself. when you were younger, your mother said you think like wind; rushing past one thing to get to the next, never settling. your teacher called it “scattered.” your uncle, more bluntly, said you didn’t know how to shut up and sit still.

but out here in the forest, it’s easier. the trees don’t ask questions. the birds don’t mind that you forget what you’re doing halfway through doing it. the wind doesn’t care if your thoughts don’t line up right. out here, you can breathe.

you’re out there now, way past the bounds of what’s considered safe, when you see her. you weren’t trying to find her. you didn’t even know she was back.

she's stripping bark off a felled tree like it insulted her personally, one arm slick with sap, jaw clenched tight. you don’t mean to watch, but you do. it takes a second too long before she notices.

"what?" she snaps, without looking up.

you flinch, like she smacked you, but you don’t run. you never do, not even when you should.

"nothing," you say. not true. "just walking." kinda true.

the brunette straightens and finally looks at you. her eyes are darker than they looked on the broadcast, more tired, less shiny. realer.

"you’re from seven?" she asks bluntly.

you nod. "born here. i know who you are."

"then you should know better than to sneak up on people holding an axe."

she tosses it into the ground, not hard, but hard enough. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. just shift your weight, try not to look as jumpy as you feel.

"you always twitch like that?" she asks after a beat.

heat crawls up your neck. "only when i forget i’m being watched, i guess."

that gets a half-smile out of her. it's not soft by any means, but it’s something.

"i’m done here," she says. "walk me back, if you're not too busy wandering."

you follow without thinking.

𔓘

you see her again the next day.

you’d say it’s a coincidence, but you don’t believe in those. not anymore. not since the games started shaping every part of this country like a boot pressing into mud.

she’s sitting behind the supply shed near the old lumber plant, chewing on a splinter and staring at nothing.

"you always hang out behind buildings?" you ask before your brain catches up.

she glances sideways. "you always ask questions you don’t have rights to?"

you blink. "i didn’t mean to. i just… blurt things."

"no kidding."

you consider leaving, but something in her tone isn’t as sharp as her words. so you sit down beside her. y’know, like a sane person.

the silence is weird at first. heavy. you’ve never been good at it. but johanna’s not fidgeting, not talking. just existing. so you try that too.

eventually she says, "you talk too fast, you know that?"

"yeah."

"you think too fast, too." is she in my head now? can she hear it?

"…yeah."

another silence. it doesn’t feel quite so weird now.

"you always been like that?"

you nod. "people don’t like it much. i get on nerves."

she huffs a laugh through her nose. "welcome to the club."

you don’t talk much after that. just sit. and that’s fine.

𔓘

you start seeing her more. not on purpose.

okay, maybe a little on purpose.

she's not hard to find, but she’s hard to read.

sometimes she talks. sometimes she doesn’t. you get used to both.

sometimes your mind races so fast you forget what you were saying halfway through a sentence, and she waits for you to catch up. doesn’t laugh. doesn’t pity you. just waits.

sometimes she tells you things you don’t expect her to; about how she hates the way people look at her now. like she’s broken. dangerous. crazy.

you don’t say anything to that. you just nudge her knee with yours. she lets it stay there.

𔓘

one night you’re both out in the woods. it’s cold. your hands are shaking and she notices. of course she does.

"you okay?" she asks.

"yeah," you lie, too quickly.

she doesn’t press. just shrugs off her jacket and tosses it at you. you catch it just barely.

"thanks," you say. "you’re nicer than you pretend."

she snorts. "don’t tell anyone. ruins the brand."

you sit down beside her on a flat rock that smells like moss and smoke. the moon is big tonight. your head feels quieter out here. still not silent, but closer.

"ever feel like you don’t fit in your own skin?" you ask, quietly.

johanna turns toward you, and there’s something sharp in her face, but not cruel. not aimed at you.

"every damn day."

you look at her. she’s not pretty in the usual way. not soft. not delicate. her beauty’s carved from bone and scars, from fire and splinters. but when she looks at you like that, like she sees every splintered corner of you and doesn’t flinch, you think maybe it’s the only kind of pretty that matters.

you lean your head on her shoulder before you can overthink it. she goes still for a second, then rests her cheek lightly on top of your head.

you sit like that until your thoughts stop chasing themselves in circles.

𔓘

she kisses you the first time without warning.

you’re mid-sentence, rambling about something, probably tree frogs or fungus or a dream you had last night where all the victors were made of wax and melting— and she just leans in and shuts you up with her mouth.

it’s not soft. it’s not neat. it’s like everything else about her — fierce, impatient, real.

when she pulls back, your brain short-circuits.

"sorry," she mutters, looking away. "you were spiraling."

you blink. "so you decided to kiss me?"

"you want me to take it back?"

you shake your head fast enough to make her laugh.

"didn’t think so."

𔓘

you don’t talk about it after that. not really. you don’t have to. something shifts between you, subtle, but there.

you still talk too fast. still get distracted mid-conversation. still twitchy, still messy, still too much. but she never tells you to stop. never makes you feel like a problem to fix.

she listens.

she stays.

one night you’re lying in the grass near the edge of the district, looking up at the stars. you’ve been ranting about something stupid, how birds shouldn’t be able to sleep while standing, how unfair that is, and johanna just murmurs, "you know, i like the way your brain works."

you go quiet.

"you do?" you ask, unsure if she means it. if she’s making fun of you.

she rolls onto her side, presses her hand to your chest like she’s grounding you.

"it’s a little like mine. loud. a mess. but honest. sharp. alive."

you don’t say anything. your throat’s tight.

she kisses your collarbone, then your jaw, then your mouth.

and you think, maybe this world never gave you a place, not really. but maybe johanna’s the one person who sees your broken edges and doesn’t try to sand them down.

[cbrcbbr]

thg stuff