#and Peeta may have done the same if not for the reaping

[nebulablakemurphy]

The Winner Takes It All (Part 1)

Summary: Moves and Countermoves AU in which the rebellion never happened. This is very sad and potentially triggering, with discussions of forced prostitution, a pregnancy resulting from it, and alcohol/drug addiction. Proceed with caution.

It’s reaping day. The last one that Everest will ever attend, he’ll be nineteen when the next one rolls around. After that he’ll only need to worry about Arista for a few more years…until Honey turns twelve that is.

His parents wanted to name her Daisy, before realizing that it didn’t fit their image. The perfect victor family with their perfect victor names. Some part of Everest wishes they’d stuck with it, his youngest sister, now nearly eight, looks more like a Daisy May than a Honey Bliss.

She resembles their mother, the eyes, her picture perfect nose; but her smile is different. Unlike their mother or father’s, with the deepest dimples Panem has ever seen. If he’s being honest, even though he’ll never say so out loud, Honey looks like Finnick.

Pair that with the fact that anyone named after a flower it subject to Snow’s wrath, for reminding him of Katniss. And poor hypothetical Daisy would’ve had a target on her back. That’s the most sense Everest can make of it anyway.

The year Katniss won everything changed. Rules got stricter, people got hungrier, Y/N and Haymitch got quieter, traveling to the Capitol for business more than ever.

Everest and his siblings have never been made privy to the things that happen there. But their parents were never the same after.

Katniss takes after Haymitch, using booze to numb the pain of…doing what she had to, to get home to Prim. Not that there was anything she could’ve done for Peeta anyway. The nightlock was in his mouth just a second before they announced both of them could go home.

She doesn’t like to talk about it. No one does. Just like Honey and the Capitol, Peeta Mellark is a sore subject.

“Everest,” Honey calls, bursting into his room. “Mom says you have to come downstairs.”

“Where is mom?”

“With Vanity.” The girl, with a head full of ringlet curls, tells him.

Their mother’s stylist has clearly already tended to her.

“She says you have a special outfit.”

“Special outfit,” Everest raises his brows. “Wouldn’t want to miss that would I?”

“You can’t wear your pajamas to the square, the cameras will see you.” Honey reminds him, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.

“I’m coming.” Everest assures her, no reason to get the poor kid worked up. She’s anxious enough, knowing that she’ll soon be standing on the sidelines of the justice building beside Aunt Madge; watching as their parents get carted off with a fresh pair of tributes who probably won’t return.

The gig got easier with time, Everest knows what is expected of him and he doesn’t worry. Arista doesn’t love the cameras, but she tolerates them. Honey is still learning, equal parts nervous and excited for the call of ‘action.’

Everest follows her down the stairs to find Arista on the pedestal. Her hair in soft waves, the way Vanity often styles his mother’s. Her dress is a lime green number with feathers along the trim. A dress from his mother’s victory tour.

“Absolutely stunning.” Vanity rejoices, patting Arista’s cheek.

There is never any mistaking them for normal children from district 12. They are the victors’ kids, born with silver spoons in their mouths, without knowing the cost.

Y/N smiles at her daughter, but there’s a sadness in her eyes that outweighs it. Her dress is a deep blue, sequin and lace monstrosity.

Not something his mother would choose for herself in a hundred years.

Haymitch isn’t much better, in his matching suit, “what do you need, Honey?” He sighs as the little girl tugs at his hand.

She beckons him down to her eye level.

Haymitch never treated her any differently than his biological children. She’s Y/N’s so the rest isn’t important to him. Honey spent the first year of her life in his arms and every year since tugging at the strings of his heart.

“Alright, you’re up.” Vanity waves Everest over. Presenting him a suit he hasn’t been fitted for.

“My dad’s post games interview suit?” Everest frowns, “you shouldn’t have.” She really, really shouldn’t have.

“Only the best for you.” Vanity smiles, “try it on, we can make alterations.”

Everest excuses himself to the washroom with the garments. Reluctantly stepping into them. He looks more like Haymitch Abernathy than his father does, by now.

Aunt Madge has arrived by the time he returns to the living room. Almost showtime.

“Wow,” Madge says, at the sight of him.

“What?” Everest rakes a hand through his hair.

“It fits.”

“Could be taken in just a bit at the shoulders.” Vanity decides, helping him onto the pedestal and pinning the fabric for a quick stitch before deeming them all camera ready.

The trek to the square isn’t long by any means, each of them splintering off to their assigned places. Y/N and Haymitch to the stage. Honey and Madge to the viewing area. Everest and Arista to the check in line.

Everest remembers the first time he was here, twelve years old, heart pounding out of his chest. He swears to this day that the prick of his finger felt like a gaping wound. He didn’t cry though. He hardly feels the needle these days.

The woman at the pop up table confirms his attendance and waves him on. He waits for Arista even though he’s not technically supposed to, a privilege no other siblings are afforded.

Arista puts a hand to his back as she joins him. “Last year, big shot.” Next year she’ll be standing here alone.

“You’re next,” he reminds her. Only four more years.

Arista nods, allowing the aisle to separate them once more.

“Make sure we have cameras five, six and seven on the Abernathy kids!” A disembodied voice announces to the film crew.

Must not have gotten enough coverage last year.

Arista shifts uncomfortably in her shoes as the camera lens comes close to her face. “Might want to back up a bit. Widen the shot to see the others but like…center me. Yeah?”

The camera operator nods, “thanks. It’s my first day.”

I can tell. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Cameras one and two on the stage, make sure we have the escort, Y/N and Haymitch.”

Y/N squeezes her husband’s hand.

“You ok?” Haymitch squeezes back.

“Yeah.”

“Cameras three and four on the crowd, make sure we’re ready to tighten up on the tributes after they’re selected.”

The orders are barked until the director is satisfied with the placements.

“New crew for your beauty shots this year, Abernathy?” The boy behind Everest inquires.

“Looks like it.”

“Congratulations on aging out, it’s my last year too.”

“Congratulations to you too.”

“I’ve got at least forty slips in that bowl,”

Tesserae. “May the odds be in your favor.”

“Do you think your name’s in there at all?”

Everest turns to him with a smile, the cameras are watching. “Of course, just like everyone else.”

“But you’re not like everyone else, you’re the victors’ kid.”

“Welcome, welcome.”

Saved by the bell known as Effie Trinket.

Everest was never sure how to feel about Effie. But from what he does know of her, she’s an angel compared to Cordelia Walters; the district 12 escort back when he was too young to stay home with Madge and was annually shuttled to the Capitol with his parents to mentor the games.

The pre reaping propaganda is played on the large projection screens on either side of the stage. It is their great honor to be here after all, year after year, offering themselves up as penance for their ‘crimes’ against the Capitol.

The female tribute is chosen first. Not Arista, but a girl from town named, “Whimsy Tecker.”

She stumbles toward the stage on shaky legs. Fiery red hair tied behind her head in a neat lavender bow.

Poor Whimsy.

“And now for the boys.” Effie says, plunging her hand into the second bowl. Reaching down toward the bottom and pulling out a folded piece of paper. Opening the crisp white parchment and pausing, nearly dropping it to the ground.

Effie never hesitates.

“Everest Abernathy.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“What?” Arista says, inching toward the stage.

“Let me see that.” Haymitch demands, marching up to Effie and tearing the paper from her hands.

The boys around Everest have begun to clear away, as though he is now contagious.

“Guess the odds were in your favor after all.” Everest nods to the boy behind him. Making his way up to the justice building before the peacekeepers step in.

Y/N meets him on the stairs, “everything is going to be ok.”

Poor Whimy is sobbing. Her chances of winning just dropped below zero. She stands no chance of winning against Everest Abernathy. Mentored by his own parents, beloved by the Capitol and all its sponsors.

Haymitch is still holding the paper with his son’s name on it. Effie hadn’t read it wrong.

“This isn’t fair.” Whimsy’s father protests. “How are they going to help my daughter when it’s her life or their kid’s? Who’s going to look after my little girl? This isn’t right.”

“We are going to take the necessary precautions to ensure that the hunger games are fair to all tributes.” Effie assures him.

But the games aren’t fair. They never have been and they never will be.

Part 2

Series Taglist: @lovely-waves @pookiei-bookie

[sounds-of-some-day]

Sunrise On the Reaping Chapter One Thoughts

I've always wanted to do this for a book, chapter by chapter. But I struggle with having the patience to do something like this, because I can't put a book down once I start getting into it. But I am once again going to make an attempt. I'm on break this week, so I have time.

Let's see how this journey goes.

Caveat: I haven't read Catching Fire since before the movies came out actually, so I don't remember too much about what all is said about Haymitch's game, and I'm not fully up on all the lore. And I'm okay with that. I kinda like the idea of going into this mostly blind. This means that I may theorize about things that everyone else already knows/knows is wrong. That's okay. My predictions rarely turn out anyway, lol.

Obviously, spoilers through the listed chapter, as well as potentially some spoilers about the original trilogy and Ballad.

I'm very intrigued by Haymitch's voice in the narration. I don't think this is what I would have quite pegged for him, but in reflection, it's quite well done. He sounds so young. Not naive, but definitely young. Already jaded to a certain extent in the way that Gale was (and Katniss to a lesser extent), but also hopeful in the way that Peeta was, if that makes sense. Like there's a realism there, but there's still that underlying shimmer of hope. Contrast this with what he's like in the og trilogy and it's quite the stark difference.

It's impossible to not compare and contrast Haymitch to Katniss. They have a lot on common, obviously, which 1) they would have to, given that they both come from the Seam in District 12 and also 2) those commonalities are important, because we know that Haymitch sees at least a little of himself in Katniss (and I would think Peeta, to an extent as well).

So, Haymitch's father died in a fire in the mines, and he and his younger brother were raised by a single mother. Unlike Katniss, Haymitch's mother doesn't fall apart when she loses her husband, and so Haymitch has a little less responsibility resting on his shoulders as he grows up than Katniss does, though he does still work (doing something illegal, like Katniss) to help provide for his family.

Haymitch is slightly older than Katniss (was Katniss 15?) at 16 years old, in some ways feeling older but also younger than Katniss. Younger because he hasn't had the same level of responsibility yet, but older, or, I'm not really sure how to put this, older in the sense that his life seems more on track. Whereas Katniss seems to be in pure survival mode from the beginning, it's that underlying hope that sets Haymitch apart. He's got a girl that he's in love with, and you can almost feel the way he's shifting towards adulthood in a way that Katniss wasn't. Again, I'm rambling, probably not making much sense, but Haymitch is in the process of settling into a life for himself, with a job (with a potential future) and a girlfriend.

Lenore Dove. I love her. Won me over pretty much immediately. I really hope we get to see more of her. A member of the Covey, she of the Baird family. I won't lie, what with her mother being dead and the vagueness about her father, I had a thought for half a second that she was actually Lucy Grey's daughter, which, there would be a certain sense of dramatic irony if she was Snow's daughter, given what we know is going to happen to Haymitch after the games, but then I did the rather obvious math (lol) and clearly this is not the case, which is good. Dramatic irony aside, that level of plot twist is, I think, beneath a series such as this. But she is related in some way to Lucy Grey, which is purposefully done for some reason or another.

Speaking of Lucy Grey! At the reaping, there is no mention of listing out previous winners? Well, winner. It's possible this is just an oversight, but I'm hesitant to think that given that there's been a lot of discussion in the fandom about exactly how much is known about Lucy Grey and her victory in the tenth games. We know that the records of that game were scrubbed (? I think we know this? If I'm wrong, holler at me) but Katniss references there being two winners (only one -- Haymitch -- currently alive) in her year, so the fact that there was a winner from twelve before Haymitch is known.

Katniss' parents! Gah, I really like her dad. I actually really like the sort of easy camaraderie between Haymitch, Burdock. and Blair. Did we know that Haymitch was friends with Katniss' dad before? I didn't anyway, and it heaps another bit of tragedy onto Haymitch's story, having to mentor his best friend's daughter in the games.

There's clearly a lot of commentary in this first chapter about current events (and like, I'm not even trying to make this US-centric. What's happening in the US right now is not unique.) But the messaging is pretty clear, and what I find the most interesting (so far...) is the way the Capital touting it's strength is shown. Like, this was in Katniss' book too, so maybe I am just looking at this with the eyes of someone today instead of the eyes of someone whatever many years ago when I was reading the original trilogy, but it just hits different. Like there's something quite hollow about the way this messaging comes across.

Haymitch notices a capital friendly sticker in the apothecary window and gets a little judgmental, but then Katniss' mom (Asterid) explains that the peacekeepers made them put it there. That actually disappointed me slightly. I think it would have been maybe a little more interesting to see *some* pro-capital sentiment, or at least, Capital friendly sentiment -- even if it was only self-serving -- in the District, if only because every authoritarian government ever has always had it's supporters. And I think it would have given an extra layer of complexity to Asterid if that was her family background. I know we get some of that (a little) with the career districts to an extent, but keeping it as such starts to stray a little too close to Harry Potter good groups and bad groups, when it's often more complex than that, and this franchise has already shown that it's willing to paint in grey instead of just black and white, so I was just a little taken back by the near immediate retraction of Haymitch's perception.

The reaping!! Suzanne said "Oh, you thought! You thought you knew." Again, another way of twisting the knife in Haymitch's story. The overwhelming (even if guilt-ridden) relief followed by what hasn't happened yet, but is sure to come. A beautiful subversion of expectations -- I did not see this coming. I hope whoever directs the movie directs this with as much drama and drawn out anticipation as possible, just for those viewers who haven't already read the book.

Okay, there's my thoughts on chapter one. If anyone joins me in this journey, welcome. If not, I'll just shout my thoughts into the void. I just always thought bookclubs would be more interesting if people met and talked about it while they were reading it instead of after. Or maybe I just miss the days of weekly episodic tv.....

[mollywog]

“He said, ‘See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,’” Peeta says.

This is pretty much all we get on the Mrs. Everdeen/Mr. Mellark saga.

I’m sort of enthralled by the idea that kind and quiet Mr. Mellark silently admired Katniss’s mother from afar, unable to build the courage to speak to her until it was too late, still haunted by all the ‘what ifs.’

[maggie32432]

Prisoners - Finnick Odair Imagine (Part 3)

Finnick Odair and Sirena Nighthart both won their respective Hunger Games at age 14. Both from District 4. Finnick and Sirena both grow up in the Capitol, though keeping their distance from each other. What happens when both get reaped at the Quarter Quell for the 75th Hunger Games?

Third POV

A few floors above Finnick and Sirena are Peeta and Katniss.

This morning Haymitch Abernathy is taking the time to show Peeta and Katniss all the tributes that they will be facing. Tributes that he is all too familiar with. 

"Cashmere and Gloss. Brother and sister from District 1," he says while showing the pair of siblings on the screen. Both tall and extremely well-built for the Games.  "They won back-to-back Games. Capitol favorites, lots of sponsors, and will indeed be lethal," 

The screen switches to Brutus and Enobaria from District 2.  "What's with her teeth?" Katniss asks, referring to the sharpened teeth on the woman, 

"She had them filed into fangs so she could rip people's throats out," Haymitch says, increasing the nerves of both Peeta and Katniss. 

"District 3. Wiress and Beetee. Not fighters, but indeed brilliantly intelligent," Haymitch says, showing the two older tributes on the screen,  "He won his games by electrocuting six tributes at once," 

They both raise their eyebrows, impressed that anyone without fighting skills was capable of winning the games, 

"District 6. The morphlings. Basically, won their Games by hiding until everyone else was dead," Haymitch explains, "Self-medicating ever since. Which I applaud, but indeed not a threat," He says. 

The screen switches to reveal a blonde man with a white sweater on the screen, a smirk plastered on his face. Beside him is an intense-looking girl with bright blue hair and shocking blue eyes, she doesn't share the same smirk, but instead a serious look and sharp jawline.  "Finnick Odair and Sirena Nighthart, right?" Katniss asks, 

"Yes, both from District 4. Both won their respective back-to-back Games at age 14, being the youngest ever. They both are the Capitol darlings and are deeply loved here. Finnick is known to be extremely charming and smart. He and Sirena are both extremely skilled in combat, particularly in water," 

"What are their weaknesses?"  "None. That I currently know of," he says, making Katniss and Peeta both more nervous. 

Sirena's POV

I stand intensely still as about a dozen designers and make-up artists work on my face, hair, and costume for the tribute parade.  My dress is blue and quite ocean-y, which is always the goal for District 4. 

Lots and lots of sparkles on my nails, lips, and face. I also have this huge and heavy seashell crown on top of my head. 

I groan as my hair is yanked to be put up in a big dramatic braid. Blue and gold makeup is done on my face while I watch in the mirror, they do fish-scale-looking makeup on the sides of my face. My lipstick is also a vibrant blue and purple color. 

As it all comes together I do admit that I kinda look badass, and much cooler than I did the first time around.  I get guided by all sorts of people down to where the chariots are awaiting us.

Just before I enter the area Finnick walks over to me. 

His costume is insanely more simple than mine is. He has no shirt on and has a fishing net type of bottoms on.  I can't help myself but stare just a little bit at his bare chest.

Just a little.

"Hey, Blue," he says with a grin and I raise an eyebrow,  "C'mon if we're gonna be fighting for our lives together I may as well give you a nickname, right?" he asks and I smile just a little bit, 

together

"You look gorgeous, by the way," he grins and I roll my eyes,  "Flattery gets you nowhere, Odair,"  He smirks while taking my hand to walk into the main area. The hand holding is only a strategy at this point to get people to be on our side and adore us.

That's been the goal since we were 14 years old. 

On the way to our chariot, we say hello to dozens of people that we both know including some victors we will have to fight very very soon.

I continue to remind myself to put on a smile, at least for now. I've always been known to be much more soft-spoken than Finnick, so in some ways, I'm relying on him to strengthen allies for both of us. 

I look to my left to see Katniss Everdeen, and I gotta admit, she is pretty damn intimidating. "Should we go introduce ourselves?" Finnick asks me with a grin and I simply nod. 

He keeps holding my hand, which I appreciate.  "Katniss," I say and she turns to both of us walking over to her, 

"Sirena. Finnick." She says and Finnick asks,  "You want a sugar cube?" 

Where the hell did he find that?

"I mean they're supposed to be for the horses, but they got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I...well if we see something sweet, we better grab it," he says in his charismatic voice. 

Is that flirting? 

"No thanks. But I would love to borrow that outfit someday," Katniss says to him, and I smirk as does he.  "Well, you look pretty terrifying in that getup. What happened to the pretty little girl dresses?" he asks cockily, 

"I outgrew them,"  "You certainly did," he says with a grin, 

"Shame about the Quell thing. You could've made out like a bandit in The Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted," He says,  "Well I don't like jewels and I have more money than I need, so... What do you both do with all your wealth, anyway?" she asks, 

"We don't deal in money," I say, speaking for the both of us,  "Then what riches do you have?"  "Secrets," I reply with a smile,  "What about you, Girl on Fire? Got any secrets worth my time?" He asks, stepping close to her, 

"I'm an open book. Everyone seems to know my secrets before I know them myself," She replies 

I like her 

"Unfortunately, I think that's true," he says, and he turns to see Peeta and Cinna walking over to us, 

"I'm sorry you had to cancel your wedding, I know how devastating that must be for you, " Finnick taunts, leading me to smile again.

We all are well aware of the fact that their love story is a complete sham, anyone trying to survive the Games would've done the same thing.

[thehungergamesbreakdown]

A Katniss Headcanon I Don't Understand

This might ruffle some feathers in a certain section of the Hunger Games fandom. I first noticed it this year, during my reread of the series and the so called "Hunger Game Renissance" that began with the excitmetn for the new movie. I won't be dropping blogs but I've seen numerous posts questioning if Katniss was Aromantic or even stating that she is. And I do not agree with this.

To start, we need some context. What does the word Aromantic mean? According to WebMD, Aromantics are people who "have little or no romantic attraction to others. They may or may not feel sexual attraction". They are essentially on the opposite scale of Asexual. Now there are people who say Katniss is aromantic and while I'm not going to say that they shouldn't think that, I am going to think they are wrong.

Katniss clearly has strong romantic feelings for Peeta. While she is confused by them during "The Hunger Games", she openly said "I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," (Collins, 372). I believe that Katniss' stressful situation and the true blend of what needed to be done for the camera but also what was real mixed in Katniss's head and she couldn't tell what was real or not. Hence her confusion. Plus on top of all of this, she is a Sixteen-year-old girl!

It is incredibly telling that in "Catching Fire", whenever Peeta and Katniss sleep in the same bed, neither of them has their usual nightmares. That's how safe they feel with each other.

After everything, in District 13 after Peeta has been taken captive - Katniss has to be sedated at the mere thought that Peeta is being tortured. She comes to a new understanding with her mother after feeling such pain, because her mother shut down after her father's death. The pain she feels when Peeta comes back and was hijacked by the

Then at the very end of it all, the two marry and stay together in Victor Village. It's a sweet, kind ending for them that feels just right. Saying that Katniss is aromantic erases how much she truly cares about Peeta, and I think diminishes Katniss' own autonomy to heal as a child that grew up in a world where her children were always at risk of being reaped. She finally was able to heal after the end.

Is Katniss aromantic? No, certainly not. Is Katniss asexual? You got some evidence pointing there, but that is a topic for another day. This is our last post dissecting Katniss Everdeen, now we move on to the bread boy himself, Peeta Mellark.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hi! 🤗 I haven’t done a bookcomb in so long I figured I might as well do an easy one. This may be random but I’m always fascinated with all the little mentions of Katniss and Peeta acknowledging each other before they were reaped for their first games. So here’s a (really random) bookcomb of every time they referenced seeing the other at school 🥰😂.

-

As I carefully replaced the lid and backed away, I noticed him, a boy with blond hair peering out from behind his mother’s back. I’d seen him at school. He was in my year, but I didn’t know his name. He stuck with the town kids, so how would I?

-

At school, I passed the boy in the hall, his cheek had swelled up and his eye had blackened. He was with his friends and didn’t acknowledge me in any way. But as I collected Prim and started for home that afternoon, I found him staring at me from across the school yard. Our eyes met for only a second, then he turned his head away. I dropped my gaze, embarrassed, and that’s when I saw it. The first dandelion of the year.

-

“He can wrestle,” I tell Haymitch. “He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother.”

-

“Peeta,” I say lightly. “You said at the interview you’d had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?”

“Oh, let’s see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair . . . it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up,” Peeta says.

[…]

“So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent,” Peeta says.

“Oh, please,” I say, laughing.

“No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew — just like your mother — I was a goner,” Peeta says. “Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you.”

“Without success,” I add.

-

When we make our way into the dining area, I see some of Peeta's gang have other ideas. They're dragging all the smaller tables to form one large table so that we all have to eat together. Now I don't know what to do. Even at school I used to avoid eating at a crowded table. Frankly, I'd probably have sat alone if Madge hadn't made a habit of joining me. I guess I'd have eaten with Gale except, being two grades apart, our lunch never fell at the same time.

I take a tray and start making my way around the food-laden carts that ring the room. Peeta catches up with me at the stew. “How's it going?”

“Good. Fine. I like the District Three victors,” I say. “Wiress and Beetee.”

“Really?” he asks. “They're something of a joke to the others.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” I say. I think of how Peeta was always surrounded at school by a crowd of friends. It's amazing, really, that he ever took any notice of me except to think I was odd.

-

“Delly's known Peeta for a long time," says Plutarch.

"Oh, yes!" Delly's face brightens. "We played together from when we were little. I used to tell people he was my brother."

"What do you think?" Haymitch asks me. "Anything that might trigger memories of you?"

"We were all in the same class. But we never overlapped much," I say.

-

“So what do you remember?"

"You. In the rain," he says softly. "Digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead."

"That's it. That's what happened," I say. "The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn't know how."

"We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then...for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion." I nod. He does remember. I have never spoken about that moment aloud. "I must have loved you a lot."

"You did."

-

But since Peeta's greatest confusion centers around me--and not everything can be explained simply--our exchanges are painful and loaded, even though we touch on only the most superficial of details. The color of my dress in 7. My preference for cheese buns. The name of our math teacher when we were little. Reconstructing his memory of me is excruciating.

-

Through the water in the glass, I see a distorted image of one of Peeta's hands. The burn marks. We are both fire mutts now. My eyes travel up to where the flames licked across his forehead, singeing away his brows but just missing his eyes. Those same blue eyes that used to meet mine and then flit away at school. Just as they do now.

-

[plus-size-reader]

Engaged

Not Really Goodbye pt.2

Peeta Mellark x Plus size!reader

Word Count:1692 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Peeta having to explain his engagement to you, the woman he loves

Part 1

——————————————————————————————————

Marrying Katniss hadn’t been Peeta’s idea.

Quite frankly, none of this was his idea to start with; not pretending to be together, lying to everyone he cared about, not getting engaged, not going on the tour. It was all stuff he’d been dragged into without even meaning to.

Unfortunately though, that didn’t make it any easier to explain the whole engagement thing to you.

This whole thing was too complicated to just break down, too dangerous to get out of, and even if he wanted to try, Peeta knew the truth. It was too late to get out now, no matter what he did.

Still, it would break your heart, just as it was currently breaking his.

Ever since the two of you were children, you assumed that you would end up being together. You had been inseparable all your lives, never going too far without the other, and your mother often joked that there were no better friends in the world.

That much had always been true.

It wasn’t until you got a bit older that you started really thinking about the possibility that there may never be no two people better suited for one another than you and Peeta were.

He understood you in a way that no one else ever had and being with him was as easy as breathing. By this time in your lives, you were sure that you would end up married, living on a farm somewhere.

Though, clearly, you’d been a fool to believe that.

News of the engagement reached you and the rest of the districts before Peeta and Katniss could even make it back, which meant that he couldn’t explain. All you could do was listen to the broadcasts and try to put the pieces together yourself.

Naturally, it hurt to imagine that everything you’d come to believe was a lie. However, you weren’t shocked that he would rather marry her.

She was incredible.

In all this time since he’d been whisked away to compete in the games, you could see just how much they had bonded. The games were broadcasted all over Panem and you would have had to have been blind to miss it.

Not only was Katniss a fellow victor, and the only other person who had shared experiences with him, but she was also stunningly beautiful and wonderfully strong.

It was something you could have never hoped to compete with.

You only wished, in your wildest dreams, that you could be like her if not for yourself than for his affections.

You wanted nothing more than for Peeta to look at you in the way that he looked at her, like the world started and ended with her, like every action from her could halt his existence entirely.

She had a power of him that you foolishly thought you had, before he went off to the Capital, but that was never going to happen.

You knew Peeta well enough to know that.

That was exactly why, when he did show up at your door trying to explain, you turned him away. If he loved her, and she made him happy, then you wanted him to be with her.

You didn’t want him to feel the need to apologize, which you assumed he was trying to do when he showed up outside your house.

Knowing Peeta, he just didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t want there to be any hard feelings between the two of you. If that was all he needed, there was no need for you to talk it over, you understood exactly what was happening.

You knew a man in love when you saw one, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

For whatever reason though, Peeta was adamant over what he wanted. He wanted to explain himself, and he needed to talk to you. This was all a huge misunderstanding, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he didn’t tell you the truth.

...And, at a certain point, you knew that you were going to have to hear him out. At the end of the day, you cared about Peeta and whatever it was that was so important, you knew that it wouldn’t hurt to hear what it was he needed.

“Peeta, I already told you, I get it” you huffed, opening your door to find him standing there again, waiting for the off chance that you would come out.

You had no idea what he was thinking, but there was one thing you knew for sure. He was going to freeze to death if he stood out here any longer.

“No, you really don’t. Please just let me explain” he begged, hoping that for the third time, you would hear him out. He just kept coming here, asking to see you, and each time he was met with the same answer.

Either you weren’t home, or you weren’t going to answer.

“Come in” you sighed finally, opening the door wide enough for him to pass through. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

You were doing your best to just save face, to keep him from seeing how much it had upset you, but you had started to accept it. You were coming to terms with what it would mean, with the fact of the matter, Peeta was going to get married.

Peeta was going to get married, and he wasn’t going to get married to you.

That was just what was happening and there was no use fighting it. If you could understand that, you didn’t get why it was so hard for him.

It seemed simple enough.

“Katniss and I are getting married, but it isn’t because I want to” he grumbled, rubbing his hands together lightly as he started to explain, doing his best to gather his thoughts. It wasn’t until he was in the heat of your home that he realized just how cold it had been, the warm air nipping at his skin.

You nodded, having heard this all before. You felt like you knew, felt like you understood what was going on, but Peeta was far from finished.

This wasn’t about him and Katniss, it wasn’t about a wedding, this was about the two of you and nothing more.

“What are you talking about? Why would you be getting married if you don't want to?” you asked, sitting down beside him on the couch, trying your best to wrap your head around what he was saying.

It didn’t make any sense to you.

For what reason, other than the fact that you loved someone, would you get married? Besides, you saw the way he looked at her while they were in that arena, you knew that he must love her.

That was all you needed to be married.

That was more than most of the people of twelve had and they made it work. Your relationships were formed mostly for survival, and in a desperate attempt to form some kind of life with what you’d been given.

“This is bigger than it seems, but I promise I can explain” he tried, gingerly resting his hand on your knee as he tried to make this work. You weren’t sure that you believed it, but it wouldn’t kill you to give him a chance to make you believe.

So, you settled in for one of the most complicated stories of all your life. Evidently, the events of the games, and what had happened in the capital, was bigger than you could have ever assumed.

It was bigger than both of you.

The more Peeta explained, the more you put together in your head, the more you understood. Of course he had to marry her, if he didn’t, there was no telling what Snow would do.

He had already threatened all of Katniss’ family and you were sure that he’d done the same to Peeta.

There was a chance they would kill you, if this didn’t go the way they wanted, and for Peeta, that was the worst thing that could happen. In all your lives, he’d only ever really had you and if something happened to you, he’d have nothing left.

You were the one. You were the one who came to check on him the night before the reaping, who combed his hair on the day of so he would look nice. You were the only one to come see him before he left for the games.

Every time he needed someone, it was always you there, waiting for him.

If he didn’t have you, Peeta didn’t have anything.

He hated the idea of doing this, of getting married to a woman who wasn’t you, of putting you through this but in the big picture, it was better than losing you. It was better than having to go through life knowing that you died because of a choice he made.

Having to do that would kill him.

It was difficult enough that the two of them had to lie to the world, that he and Katniss didn’t really care for one another in that way. Adding another element, or another person, in your case, would be far too much.

He hated this, but if it was what he had to do to keep you safe, Peeta wasn’t going to apologize for that. You were too important to risk, for any reason.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am. I just don’t have a choice” he huffed, using up all his breath in a hurried attempt to get everything he needed to get out before you started drawing your own conclusions.

...But you didn’t need him to say sorry.

You understood why he was going to do it.

Backing out of the wedding could end all of your lives and as much as you loved him, nothing was worth that. Similarly to Peeta, you figured that a life without him, knowing that he was alive, would be better than one where he died trying to be with you.

It was hardly a fairy tale, but real life rarely was.

[shesasurvivor]

May 8, 2021 (fic)

It’s here at last! I’m so sorry I’m so late this year; things really got busy for me. But I could never forget my favorite girl completely. Here’s the update for May 8 this year!

Summary: Prim surprises Katniss for her birthday one year with an unexpected gift. Set pre-Games.

Read on A03

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I open my bleary eyes only to see nothing but darkness spread out before me. I’m used to being an early riser, but somehow this seems to be pushing it. I’m not sure what time it is, but it feels too early regardless. I feel the light pressure of a small hand pressed against my back as it gently shakes me. So I didn’t imagine it.

With a start, I sit up, wondering what’s wrong that either my mother or my sister could be stirring me awake. It would have to be an emergency because that’s the only time either of them is awake before I am. I’m already halfway out of bed, using my foot to feel around in the dark for my leather boots when I make out Prim’s small shape in the darkness. 

“Prim,” I breathe. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s okay, Katniss,” she says with a giggle, of all things. The sound is strange and catches me off guard. A giggle? That doesn’t add up. Then a dim light fills the room as my mother strikes a match, and I find Prim beaming at me.

“Happy birthday!” she sings out as soon as she can see me clearly. Our mother stands behind her, still in her nightshirt, smiling faintly at me as well. 

Oh. My birthday. I’d nearly forgotten about it. Not that there’s ever much to look forward to, other than the memory that I’m eligible to put my name in the Reaping a few more times in exchange for tesserae. Happy birthday to me. 

“We have a surprise for you,” Prim continues, pulling on my hand to encourage me to get out of bed. I’m still a little groggy and would rather catch a few extra minutes of sleep before I take off into the woods, but I follow Prim anyways and let her lead me into the next room, to our cramped kitchen. In the center of the room sits a small, unfinished wooden table that’s been worn down from years of use. And right in the middle sits a round cake that’s been decorated with white frosting and dotted with ornately shaped yellow blossoms.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of it. I can feel Prim exuding pride and excitement beside me. I want to be happy for her sake, to show how much I appreciate this. Instead, my heart falls into my stomach. All I can think about is how much it must have cost us to buy this.

“Oh, Prim,” I murmur, and there’s no mistaking that I’m upset and not as touched as she wanted me to be. And immediately I wish I wish I could take it back, or could have forced myself to play along, or something to keep the crestfallen expression that’s falling across my sister’s face now. 

“You don’t like it?” Her voice is small, fragile. I crumble to pieces, then snap back together as I rush to reassure her that she hasn’t done something wrong. “It’s just… how much did something like this cost?” I’ve been by the bakery windows enough times with her to know that these cakes fall well outside of our pathetic budget. Not even my trades with the baker would catch us something like this. It would take a whole lot of squirrels to get something like a decorated cake from the window.

“Oh, is that all,” Prim looks amused now. “I just traded a wheel of cheese for it.”

“A wheel of cheese?” I repeat, not sure how to process the relief and confusion I’m feeling simultaneously. I’m beyond grateful that Prim didn’t spend anything more than that, but it doesn’t make sense. Prim’s goat cheese is outstanding, but it still doesn’t amount to the cost of one of the fancy cakes. “Mr. Mellark let you buy a cake for a wheel of cheese?” 

“Not Mr. Mellark,” Prim explains. “One of his sons. The youngest one. His name is Peeta. He gave me some of the supplies and even offered to decorate it himself. He put the flowers on because I wasn’t getting them. He’s really good. Katniss?”

I’m staring blankly at the cake, trying to make sense of all this. I know the son she’s talking about, though this is the first time I’ve heard his name. Peeta. Peeta Mellark. We don’t know each other, at least not directly. But this isn’t the first time I’ve been gifted with baked goods because of him. There was one other time, on a fateful rainy day, when I thought my luck had finally run out and the end had finally come. Peeta Mellark. Of course, the cake is covered in yellow flowers. 

“We’ll save it,” I say, shaking my head to clear out the memory. I smile down at my sister, looking up at me with relief at my lightened mood. “We’ll have it for dessert after dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” she agrees happily. She gives me a hug, then goes off to get ready for the day. 

Later, in the crowded hallways of the school, I glance up and find Peeta Mellark staring straight at me. He looks as though he’s been watching me for a while, and for a minute, I think he’s going to actually come over to say something to me. For some reason, the thought makes me embarrassed. Heat flooding my cheeks, I look away quickly. A moment later, I dare to look back, but he’s not looking at me anymore either. Instead, he’s turned and has started walking in the opposite direction down the hallway. But as the hall begins to clear out, I notice a crumpled piece of paper lying where he had been standing moments earlier. Unable to resist the curiosity, I edge over to the spot and pick it up. On the wrinkled paper is a rough pencil sketch of the very same blossoms that dot the cake back home. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” is written in clean, careful handwriting underneath.

I lift my eyes and stare for a long moment in the direction he disappeared in, trying to make sense of it. Was he about to give this to me for my birthday? We don’t really know each other. Though he would have to know it was my birthday after he helped Prim with my cake. But why? Why would he do any of that? He doesn’t owe me anything. I’m the one who owes him, who will never stop owing him, and I still haven’t managed to get out so much of a thank you to him for saving my life all those years ago. 

After a while, I give up trying to piece it together. The drawing can’t have been anything more than a practice run for the cake he decorated, with no other meaning. He was probably looking at me because he remembered my sister. There’s no further explanation for it. Besides, everyone loves Prim. I’m the forgettable one.  

I think about tossing the crumpled drawing into a trash bin as I pass by but somehow feel bad about doing so. Instead, I fold it carefully and put it in my pocket. I forget about it until that evening when the Hawthornes have come over to help me celebrate my birthday. As Gale hands me a slice of the cake, I remember the incident, and a hand slips into the pocket and fingers the paper sitting there. 

Briefly, I wonder if I should find Peeta Mellark at school tomorrow and return the drawing to him, but I push the thought away. He clearly didn’t care about it. Neither do I, I tell myself. But the picture sits safely in my pocket regardless. It will serve as a reminder of a particularly nice birthday I had one year, if nothing else. 

[incaensio]

cecelia's reasoning doesn't exactly make it better, and katniss still believes her decision to be the wrong one, but she refuses to say it. it is, as cecelia said, her decision, and if she was granted that, when others aren't, then it's none of her business to press on (she can hope that in nine years, and for the many years after that, no whitvales are reaped — the children aren't even hers, yet she feels an agony she tries to push down, for later). "i hadn't meant to judge your choice." it's mostly because she knows, sometimes, she's harsh, and she's been taught to apologize for that but also because it's not cecelia's fault that she has to play the lovely wife and brooding mare part. which reminds her of piping up a "you know we've been trying to, so it's been decided" to keep up the disgusting act (it feels fouler lying to cecelia, but she's been reminded enough times to stick to the script).

"ah, yes. i prefer if it's all the same," gives her more opportunity to rehearse until she sounds convincing, though katniss' patience runs thinner every time she has to repeat the same story. "is that your talent? fashion?" she remembers to ask, though she is unsure if she'd like cecelia to say yes or no, considering that katniss' own talent was that and it was an entire sham she knew so very little about. "'guess your husban' is smart too." the younger offers her a small smile, but it doesn't last because she wonders how much does sterling know, and how does he know. district eight was the most rebellious district they encountered on their tour, but it was so big; maybe not everyone knows, not everyone is involved. for the sake of cecelia's children, she hopes so. it's bad enough that their mother will cause them to be reaped.

there's no other double victory in history so she guesses cecelia is right on that. "'s alright. i'll just steal him back soon enough, else i will start wilterin'." it's her chance of a joke, at their own expense. "you'll like him better." it's something that comes easy as a response, because it's the truth. everyone likes peeta better, and they should; she isn't very familiar with people expressing their fondness of her, so she doesn't even want to address that, even if she takes it as a kindness. "mmhm, the best part of coming here is the food, and the leavin'." she takes a moment, and feels a smile curling up her lips as she talks next. "fine. i miss 'em, but i prefer 'em home. the phone's my best friend these days." her family is more useful there; without lilian and prim, twelve would have an even bigger death rate as it is, and even if katniss' paranoia wishes she could keep an eye on them, know they are safe, she thinks it may be easier to keep them away from her, and the capitol.

katniss' lips tighten as cecelia talks about benjamin, and parrots some lie about his family. it's obvious his family would only be proud if he had returned and, even then, maybe not. she guesses love trumps that — she would be happy if hazelle came home even if she killed the twenty-two other people around her (though not proud. pride is reserved for careers, she thinks). "i'm sorry for his family." it's automatic. she knows what's like to lose a father, the provider, the comfort; she feels sorry for the wife and the children that will have to watch as this man dies, that will have to carry on after that happens. "prim said it's awful, the waitin'." she hasn't, but katniss has learned to pick up on her little sister's cues, regretting that prim had to grow up like that, sitting in front of the tv, hoping not to see her sister get killed. "chandler is our seamstress' kid." she spares the exaggeration about friendship between him and peeta; she must have already caught it on most interviews done. "hazelle's a laundry woman. well, she was, before…" before thread made a scene that turned the hawthornes into pariahs for a while. "she's been cleanin' haymitch's house lately. and yeah, she's…family. the odds ain't my biggest fans." neither is the president.

Cecelia knew that she was an anomaly. Most victors decided not to have children for a million different reasons. Sometimes, late at night, Cecelia wondered if she had made a mistake and damned her children to this life. But then she remembered all of the joys that her children brought her, and how much she loved them and would do anything for them and it made it worth it. "I know that you may not understand, Katniss. Some of us don't have kids, and I think that that's okay. It should be your decision. But I have always known that I wanted to be a mother and once I met my husband it became very clear that we wanted them. It didn't happen right away, we agonized over the decision for a long time until we decided that we wanted to be parents. But it's not easy. I am afraid for the future. But...should that fear stop me from being a mom? That's what you have to decide for yourself."

She didn't expect people to understand her relationship with her husband. Cecelia was happy and she loved her husband and her family and that was all that mattered. They had been together for ten years and Cecelia didn't regret a minute of it. She was still here because she had her husband to steady her. "I wish he would come up with some new material, you know? It gets so dull answering the same old questions year after year. But there is something nice about the monotony. You always know what to expect from him. You have no idea how many times I've had to answer questions about my outfits and my hair. It gets very dull," she sighed. But the alternative was talking about her family, her wedding, and her life in Eight that she tried to keep as private as she could outside of her show. And that was all fake, anyways. "Sterling doesn't like to send me to the Capitol on my own. And we could leave the kids at home with my mom, but we don't love doing that," Cecelia explained. And well, the Capitol always loved to see them out and about in the Capitol, so it just...was easier sometimes.

"It's not often that we get two new members to our little club," she said with a self-deprecating smile. It was the fucked up club that nobody wanted to enter, but the alternative was death. So really, this was preferable, as far as she was concerned. "I'm sure I'll be just as fond of him as I am of you," Cecelia told Katniss. Because she was already fond of her, there was something about Katniss that she liked and wanted to protect her. She understood, maybe, why Katniss and Peeta had caused the trouble that they had. Cecelia nodded her head. "I can't wait to go home with the kids and settle down again. It's always so nice to go home. I'm sure you can't wait to go home. How is your mother and sister?" She asked her. She could still remember watching Katniss's reaping and the way that she had volunteered for her sister. It had been moving. "Benjamin is a manager at one of the factories," she explained. His family was going to struggle if he didn't come home. "He has two little ones and a wife at home. They're so proud," she said flatly. It was hard not to see herself and Sterling in him, and she was so grateful that Sterling wasn't in the arena right now. That would have destroyed her. "And yours? Hazelle...she's your aunt?" Cecelia asked. What were the chances of that?

[hockeysweetheart]

I was thinking about Katniss saying she never wanted to have children. I noticed most of the time she said she never wanted kids Gale was involved. Yes there are points fear yes if her and Peeta had kids with Snow in power. Her children would have a one way ticket to the games.  But after the Peeta’s baby bomb she was like okay didn’t expect then then very shortly after she’s like well the damage is done thank god I had no say in this. and Then a few chapters later she was like it’s not my plan to have kids with Gale your crazy. 2 seconds later oh I dream of a world Peeta’s child is safe. 

Okay Katniss who knew Gale better but Peeta longer. She is totally like me Marry Gale ahahaha your so Funny Me Have his children pfft not a freaking Chance. But when it comes to Peeta she could of denied it but she didn’t. sure she said “it’s for an act” but she knows she was fooling herself saying that because of the sheer fact that she was like well he’s not that bad... blushes...  plus  she never worked up any excuse for Hey Peeta   we over. Because I truely beileve she  had feeling for him the whole damn time.  and when it came to Gale she’s like were friends. Peeta it’s like oh my god you saved my life I can’t live without you. ( without admitting shes in love with him).  becuase lord knows how long that took.  anyways I got off track a bit.  

I’ll say this again  she wanted to be with Gale because it would be the biggest slap in the face to the Capitol but she couldn’t let go of Peeta.  without Fail every single  time she had sparks with Gale  her Feelings for Peeta were not far behind.  Plus she totally burned that bridge when Gale came out as a player.  but It’s Gale confusing Katniss when they kissed. Because not once before the games did he say btw I like you any sign of it that Katniss caught on.  Whereas Peeta is flirting with Katniss the whole freaking time. and yes Katniss is a little slow to catch on so slow in fact it took Peeta  to tell the whole  world that he’s madly in love with the world before she realized that he was just a boy in love with me. ( in fact it took her longer to realize that).  

Okay Katniss is a bit slow to show it. But some kisses were for I couldn’t do this without you. That beach kiss was all love sweetheart ( at that point we all knew that Peeta won Katniss’s heart.)  But like Gale literally almost got whipped to death and her reaction was like was like just give him the meds to knock him out let him slip away. and for Peeta when he hit that force field it’s like  oh my god I cannot live without you. Don’t ever do that again. and like later without Peeta I’ll never be truely happy again. I do I need you. I’ll be damaged beyond repare with you gone.

Below are some refences I pulled up of The whole “ not having kids or marrying to doing both”  subject... 

chapter 1  the hunger games 

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly. "What?" I ask. "Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale. I don't know how to respond. The idea is so preposterous. "If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly. They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale's two little brothers and a sister. Prim. And you may as well throw in our mothers, too, because how would they live without us? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With both of us hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling. "I never want to have kids," I say. "I might. If I didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated. "Forget it," he snaps back. The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love? And Gale is devoted to his family. We can't leave, so why bother talking about it? And even if we did. even if we did. where did this stuff about having kids come from? There's never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out. Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's good-looking, he's strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

the hunger games chapter 3 

Finally, Gale is here and maybe there is nothing romantic between us, but when he opens his arms I don't hesitate to go into them. His body is familiar to me  -  the way it moves, the smell of wood smoke, even the sound of his heart beating I know from quiet moments on a hunt  -  but this is the first time I really feel it, lean and hard-muscled against my own.

the hunger games chapter 10

I don't know what to think. "I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid." "No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," says Portia. "She's just worried about her boyfriend," says Peeta gruffly, tossing away a bloody piece of the urn. My cheeks burn again at the thought of Gale. "I don't have a boyfriend." "Whatever," says Peeta. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?" The words are sinking in. My anger fading. I'm torn now between thinking I've been used and thinking I've been given an edge. Haymitch is right. I survived my interview, but what was I really? A silly girl spinning in a sparkling, dress. Giggling. The only moment of any substance I hail was when I talked about Prim. Compare that with Thresh, his silent, deadly power, and I'm forgettable. Silly and sparkly and forgettable. No, not entirely forgettable, I have my eleven in training.

the hunger games chapter 23 

Four of us left.

For the first time, I allow myself to truly think about the possibility that I might make it home. To fame. To wealth. To my own house in the Victor's Village. My mother and Prim would live there with me. No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But then. what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some. I think of Haymitch, with all his money. What did his life become? He lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that.

"But you won't be alone," I whisper to myself. I have my mother and Prim. Well, for the time being. And then. I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I know I'll never marry, never risk bringing a child into the world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

catching fire chapter 2 ( this was what katniss was gonna say to gale after he kissed her)

That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened.

Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way.

catching fire chapter 4 

In my room, I remove my sodden slippers, my wet robe and pajamas. There are more in the drawers but I just crawl between the covers of my bed in my underclothes. I stare into the darkness, thinking about my conversation with Haymitch. Everything he said was true about the Capitol's expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn't really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. If we do, they'll have to face the reaping each year. And wouldn't it be something to see the child of not one but two victors chosen for the arena? Victors' children have been in the ring before. It always causes a lot of excitement and generates talk about how the odds are not in that family's favor. But it happens too frequently to just be about odds. Gale's convinced the Capitol does it on purpose, rigs the drawings to add extra drama. Given all the trouble I've caused, I've probably guaranteed any child of mine a spot in the Games.

catching fire chapter 18 

There. He's done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him. Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna's talents, whereas Peeta needs nothing more than his wits. As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can't ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. I am pregnant. The audience can't absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help. And me? I know my face is projected in a tight close-up on the screen, but I don't make any effort to hide it. Because for a moment, even I am working through what Peeta has said. Isn't it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future - the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now, couldn't it? If I hadn't spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family?

The moment we step off the elevator, Peeta grips my shoulders. "There isn't much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?"

"Nothing," I say. It was a big leap to take without my okay, but I'm just as glad I didn't know, didn't have time to second-guess him, to let any guilt over Gale detract from how I really feel about what Peeta did. Which is empowered.

catching fire chapter 24

Peeta won't let him, though. "It's too dangerous," he says. "I'm not tired. You lie down, Katniss." I don't object because I do need to sleep if I'm to be of any use keeping him alive. I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. "You're going to make a great mother, you know," he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick. His reference to the baby signals that our time-out from the Games is over. That he knows the audience will be wondering why he hasn't used the most persuasive argument in his arsenal. That sponsors must be manipulated. But as I stretch out on the sand I wonder, could it be more? Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if that was it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that's never been part of my plan. And for another, if only one of us can be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta. As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.

mockingjay chapter 3 

I skim my list. "Gale. I'll need him with me to do this." "With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?" Coin asks. She hasn't said this with any particular malice - quite the contrary, her words are very matter-of-fact. But my mouth still drops open in shock. "What?" "I think we should continue the current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her," says Plutarch. "Especially since they think she's pregnant with his child." "Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fellow rebel. Is that all right?" says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. "For Gale. Will that be sufficient?" "We can always work him in as your cousin," says Fulvia.

"We're not cousins," Gale and I say together.

"Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances' sake on camera," says Plutarch. "Off camera, he's all yours. Anything else?"

I'm rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I'm in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I'm devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. "When the war is over, if we've won, Peeta will be pardoned."

Dead silence. I feel Gale's body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn't sure how he'd respond. Not when it involved Peeta.

mockingjay

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much.

The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years. How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:

My children, who don't know they play on a graveyard. Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I'll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won't ever really go away. I'll tell them how I survive it. I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years. But there are much worse games to play.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, blackgem01!

Today, we wish @blackgem01 a very Happy Birthday! We hope you’ve got a wonderful day planned, and you get exactly the presents you wished for! To kick your party off in style, the lovely @mega-aulover has written a story just for you!

PROMPT:  Katniss and Peeta had a baby at a young age. Katniss decided to go off to college while Peeta stayed behind to take care of the baby and now she is coming back. (if you want to make it angsty can there be a happy ending

For: Blackgem01

A/N: Happy Birthday I hope you have a wonderful day. Thank you to @norbertsmom for betaing

Rated: T

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“You sure she's coming back?” Rye asked.

Peeta changed his 18 month old daughter, Melody. She laughed when he tickled her, and her bright blue eyes stared up at him with glee. 

Peeta proudly winked at his baby. She’d learned to walk early. She was a good climber, too. Something he learned early on when he found her in front of the upstairs apartment.  She wasn’t talking yet, but he knew she was like her mother.

“Come on Peeta,” Rye said sitting on the bed next to Mel. 

Mel extended her leg so that Peeta could put her pants on. She smiled at him and when he leaned down, she patted his face with her little hand. 

“Rye,” Peeta warned. He didn’t want to discuss Katniss in front of the baby. 

“You’re delusional.”

“Katniss wouldn’t forget us.”  Peeta kept his voice light. His daughter was perceptive and she cried when people sounded upset or mad. 

“She was sure in a hurry to leave.” 

Peeta stopped to look at his brother in disbelief, wishing Rye would drop the matter altogether. 

“You can’t go to the train tomorrow station expecting you guys to be alright,” Rye insisted. “She’s been gone for a year doing who knows what in the Capitol.” 

“All done Mel, why don’t you go see grandpa.” Peeta put their daughter on the floor. He turned to his brother. “Rye stay out of it, this is my life with Katniss.”

“She left you and Mel to go to the Capitol and study, you guys barely talk on the phone...I think she sucks for leaving you behind with Mel.”

All these months he’d been silent about the arrangement he and Katniss made. His family and even hers wanted him to move on, find someone else. Mrs. Everdeen was upset Katniss left him with the baby. Primrose didn’t understand why she left and was angry at her. Katniss wrote to Prim and June, their mother but often the letters left untouched. 

Peeta knew the truth and that’s what really mattered. 

The opportunity for her to study something was too good for them to let go. People in district twelve didn’t get scholarships, they got a one way ticket to work in the mines or if they were lucky to work in their family business. “Rye, I told her to go.”

“I don’t believe it. I think she manipulated you.”

“Have you met Katniss,” Peeta said. 

“Well okay maybe she didn’t; she’s not exactly the most talkative person.  But why would you let her go? You’ve been in love with her since you were both five.”

Peeta heard Mel’s laughter. “How many times has district twelve won the reaping? For that matter who was the last person who won the reaping?”

Rye glanced away, knowing Peeta was right.  

The annual reaping was a scholarship that was founded when the districts won the war nearly 77 years ago.  Every year, one student was chosen from the graduating class of all the districts to study for a year in the Capitol. Katniss was chosen, but she was conflicted because they had a six month old baby. 

Peeta may have been in love with Katniss since he was five, but he didn’t get up the nerve to talk to her until they were sixteen. . Their friendship grew deeper, despite the things her former best friend Gale Hawthorne said about them, and by the time they were seniors they were in a serious relationship. They were both shocked when Katniss got pregnant. Peeta encouraged her to continue studying, bringing her assignments and tests when she was too sick to go to school. 

It wasn’t easy.  His mother wanted him to deny the child Katniss carried, while his father quietly told him he wasn’t ready for fatherhood. His father wasn’t entirely wrong; Peeta wasn’t ready to be a dad. It was a hard nine months for both of them.  It wasn’t until Mel was born did his mother come around and his parents supported them both. 

When Katniss won the reaping everyone expected her to decline it, because of the baby.  Peeta didn’t want her to lose her shot at something big. Every person who won had opportunities afforded to them. It’s why his brother was taking forever to answer.  

After a few moments Rye eventually said, “Mayor Abernathy.”

“And before that it was a wild girl named Lucy who ended up being a great entertainer in the Capitol.  I told Katniss to go, I told her to do it for our daughter.” Peeta sat on his bed, and sighed. “She didn't want to leave, but I told her she needed to because I didn’t want her to have regrets.”

“That’s all great and said, but you forget about one tiny detail, your daughter. Katniss has missed a lot of the big markers in Mel’s life.  And if by some miracle you guys have this magical reconnection and are able to pick up where you left off, just remember Mel will see Katniss as a virtual stranger.” 

Peeta watched Rye stand up and leave. His brother’s words stayed with him for the rest of the day. He hadn’t really given a thought about what it would be like to have Katniss home again. He loved her, but Rye was right. Katniss didn’t really know her daughter.  It was part of the sacrifice she made by leaving.

Katniss couldn’t come home; it was in the stipulations of the scholarship. She had to live at school and maintain a certain grade point average. She didn’t have much money and was dependent on the grant.  Calling the bakery was expensive, something she only did on major celebrations like Mel’s birthday. She did write, Katniss wrote two and three letters a week. 

Peeta wrote back filling her in on as much as he could. He even drew pictures of Mel. But still Katniss didn’t know the face Mel made when she was sleepy. Or the way she cried when she passed by a cat, thinking it was Buttercup. This next phase of their life was going to be hard. Peeta worried about Mel’s reaction to Katniss. Mel was only six months old the last time she’d been with Katniss. 

Mel hadn’t taken the loss of mommy well. She’d cried for Katniss and Peeta had seen the same tears mirrored on Katniss’ face when she left. Peeta hoped for the best but he was preparing for the worst.  

The next morning he stood with both of their families at the train station. 

Rye was making funny faces at Mel and her peal of laughter broke the tension. His mother held Mel. She’d purchased a new outfit for Mel today, a pretty dove gray dress with pink polka dots with matching grey shoes and pink pom pom hair fasteners.  His mother was smitten with her dark haired grandchild.  Mel covered her ears as the train horn sounded. She turned to him holding out her little arms toward him.  Peeta picked her up and Mel put her face in the crook of his neck. 

The train pulled in and Peeta braced himself. 

...

“You did good by her,” June Everdeen said. 

Peeta glanced at Katniss' mother, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“I hope the sacrifice was worth it,” June said as the passengers began to disembark. 

Peeta recalled Rye’s words. He held his little girl closer. He hoped he did a good enough job of talking about mommy and showing Mel images of Katniss. 

“There she is,” Prim squeaked.

Peeta didn’t see her. Katniss wasn’t tall and was easily lost in the crowd. He followed Prim who was tall and thin.

Peeta saw her, she wasn’t wearing fancy Capitol clothing, she was, however, wearing a lovely dark orange dress with small white flowers. Katniss never used to wear dresses. Her hair was in it’s customary braid. She looked unsure as if searching the crowd. When she spotted Prim her face broke out in the most beautiful smile. Peeta always thought Katniss looked stunning when she smiled. 

“Prim,” she called out running to her sister. 

“Katniss,” Prim cried as they hugged one another. 

Peeta watched both sisters talk. His heart beat quickly.  Mel whimpered. Immediately Peeta’s attention went to Mel. 

“What's wrong button,” he cooed quietly, shifting her so that he could look into her face. “Are you tired?’

Mel stuck her thumb in her mouth. 

“Okay, we’re just getting mommy, okay.” 

“She’s beautiful,” Katniss said in awe.

Peeta looked up to see Katniss staring at him, her eyes filled with tears. She reached her arms toward Mel.

Mel swatted her arms away, and screamed, “NO!”

It was Mel’s first word. Katniss looked crestfallen. Peeta sighed. This wasn’t going to go easy at all. 

Peeta looked at himself in the mirror. Today had turned into a disaster. All day long Mel scowled at Katniss. Whenever Katniss came close to Peeta, Mel pointed her finger at Katniss, garbled words Peeta had never heard his daughter say, followed by, no.  Mel refused to leave his side and Katniss looked crestfallen, then Rye made a comment that started a fight.  He closed his eyes. Everyone ganged up on Katniss about her decision to leave. 

Her mother said leaving Mel was inexcusable. Katniss fired back telling her letting her children nearly starve to death was just as bad. When Katniss' father died of an accident at work, June went into a downward spin where she became nearly catatonic. The responsibility of the house, her sister and her mother fell on Katniss shoulders. Peeta recalled hearing the adults talk about how brave Katniss was to care for her ill mother.  Now her mother turned on Katniss. 

Peeta tried to defend Katniss but his voice was silenced. Mel began crying and Katniss left the house to cool down. Their baby was finally sleeping and everyone was gone. 

“Hey,” Katniss said quietly.

He looked up from the mirror to see her reflection.  “Hi.”

Her eyes were red rimmed, her face was flushed. 

Peeta turned around. He opened his arms, and she flew into them. 

“I hoped,” Katniss cried.

He held her, letting her cry. Katniss wasn’t one for emotional outbursts. When she calmed down she said, “Mel doesn’t love me, my own sister said I shouldn’t have left, your parents…” She took a deep breath and said. “We talked about this, but I didn’t think it was going to be so hard….”

“I don’t know what to do to help you. They wouldn’t even listen to me.” 

“I had great news for everyone. A job was created for me, given my talents with herbs, fauna, and trees, as District Twelve’s forest conservationist. One of my professors, Dr. Wiress arranged for Prim to study in District Three’s Medical and Technology program. I worked in the cafeteria in school and I gave them one of the breads you sent with me. My boss wanted to talk to your dad.”  

“You’re always looking out for us.”

“You have done such a great job with Mel. She’s so beautiful and she hates me.” Katniss stepped away, she placed her hands on his shoulders. Her hands drifting down over his chest. 

Peeta shuddered at her touch. One year of waiting and longing.  “No she doesn't hate you. She doesn’t know you and to Mel you’re trying to take away her daddy. It’s going to take time to convince everyone. Now let’s get to bed and see if we can make this family of ours work.”

Katniss sighed.

They slept rather awkwardly that first night as they had to get used to sleeping together again. In the morning Mel wanted nothing to do with Katniss. 

Two weeks passed by and slowly people’s attitude about Katniss changed. His father was over the moon with the contact she gave him. He’d struck a contract with Paylor Katniss’ supervisor to supply bread to the university. Primrose was delighted at the opportunity to study in District Three.

Only their daughter and his brother were the last holdouts. 

Mel kept up saying no to Katniss and exhibited her jealousy regularly. Anytime Katniss came close to Peeta she would cry no and stomp her little foot and push Katniss away. Their daughter didn’t want to share him. 

It was bedtime, Katniss wanted to get Mel ready by giving her a bath. 

“No, dada.”  Mel stood with a scowl on her face. It was like looking into a mirror. 

“You’re going to take a bath with mommy,” Katniss said kneeling  before their daughter. She held out the small rubber duck she brought from the Capitol for Mel.

“No,” Mel swatted at the rubber duck.

“Mel,” Peeta interjected. “Not Nice.” In a firm voice he repeated, “Not nice.” 

His daughter's eyes grew wide. Peeta seldom used that tone of voice with her. Her bottom lip trembled. 

“Go to the bathroom,” he ordered, but in a softer tone.

Mel stomped off to the bathroom.

Katniss gave him a pouty look of her own before following their daughter to the bathroom. Later on, Katniss was in the bedroom folding clothing rapidly. Peeta could sense the storm coming. 

He finished cleaning up the kitchen, wanting to give Katniss enough time with Mel. Her eyes narrowed right before she said, “I could have handled the situation.”

Peeta didn’t say anything. He only took the fitted sheet she was fidgeting with and folded it neatly.

“Ugh!” Katniss huffed, her eyes fiery. 

“I had it under control, you didn’t have to intervene.” 

Peeta sighed and bit his tongue. 

“She needs to learn that I am not going anywhere.” Katniss sat on the bed and looked around. “I shouldn’t have left, Peeta. I should stayed, here with her…” 

Peeta sat next to her. “No you did the right thing,” Peata said. He didn’t want for Katniss to feel bad for the decision to go study. “Prim’s going to spend her next last two years of school in District Three studying with Dr. Wiress, one of Panem’s foremost scientific minds. And my dad’s benefiting from it too. He’s going to be able to send his bread to the capitol for the holidays. And he’s going to have the opportunity to go to the Capitol with my mom to tour the school cafeteria, and my mom’s going to get a real honeymoon.” 

Katniss' face began to lose its worry. 

“And you’re going to be doing something you love, conservation of the woods. It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn't made that sacrifice.” 

“I…” Katniss began, but trailed off.

“Come here.” Peeta sat back against the headboard inviting her to sit next to him. Katniss didn’t sit, she snuggled up against his side. Her head rested up against his chest.  Peeta sighed from the contentment of the simple gesture. Peeta missed her, missed listening to the sound of her voice. 

“I sometimes don’t see the bigger picture.”

“You just don’t know the effect you have on people, Katniss.” He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “My mom distrusted the people from the Seam, now some of her very best friends are from the Seam. She even helped Hazelle open up her own laundry business in town.” 

“It’s true,” Katniss conceded. 

“All we have to do is teach our daughter not to hit you or anyone.”

“I was shocked.” Katniss looked up. “She just swatted at Mr. Quack.” 

“Yeah, unfortunately she gets that from my mother. Did I ever tell you my mom came to blows with Dross, the milkman?”

“Whatever for?” She picked up his hand before kissing his ring finger. In District Twelve wedding rings were expensive, so couples used twine or around their ring finger when they had their Toasting. It was a tradition and even those with enough money for rings still used twine. 

“Yeah, she insisted he wasn’t filling our milk bottles to the top.”  Peeta cleared his throat as Katniss kissed his shoulder, then his chin, next his cheek. They hadn’t slept together since she’s been back. Peeta was letting Katniss make the first move. 

“It sounds like something your mom would do,” she stared deep into his eyes as she sat astride him.  She leaned forward to kiss him.

“You sure?” 

“Peeta it’s been twelve months, fourteen days, and who knows how many hours since I’ve last had you touch me….” 

Peeta was astonished she had kept count. However every thought went out of his mind and other more pressing matters took precedence.

Time had a way of marching by quickly.  Katniss patiently dealt with their daughters' tantrums, and at night she would lie in his arms wanting for Mel to accept her. He was in the bakery when he overheard  Rye snicker. “My brother is a doormat and he doesn’t realize what a little slut you are. What did you have to do to get us that contract?”

“I would never cheat on your brother.” 

“Didn’t you?” Rye sneered. “Kids know when people are fake or liars. You only have to look at Mel to know she sees right through you.”

Peeta walked through the door and saw Katniss scowl, but Peeta could see the slight trembling in her lips , and the way that her face drained of color that meant she was near tears. 

“That’s enough Rye,” Peeta said, standing up to his brother. The last time he’d seen Katniss shrink back was when her father died. 

 In school Peeta had seen how the once vibrant girl diminished not only in personality but in size. She and her sister were so skinny they wore extra clothing to keep warm.  

Peeta had taken it upon himself to give the girl he loved extra food at lunch time.  He would sit next to her and say he was full, offering her an apple, or half a sandwich. One time he had left her family a basket of bread. His mother was furious that he took it without permission, but it was worth it seeing Prim’s face of joy upon discovering the bread. Peeta swore Katniss saw him hiding in the dim morning light. 

Shortly after that she began hunting and going around trading the meat she caught. Meat was expensive in the district and Katniss’ fresh game was welcome. It was this trading that afforded Peeta the ability to walk up to her in highschool and offer the bond of friendship.  It’s how they got to this moment. 

“I’m going to go hunting,” Katniss whispered. 

Peeta let her go before rounding on his brother. “Don’t you ever say anything like that to her. She worked in the kitchens while in the Capitol. Her supervisor Paylor, tasted the bread she brought with her. She gave dad Paylor’s number.”

Rye angrily turned his face away. 

“No, you’re going to listen to me, Rye. Katniss and I wrote to one another at least three times a week. She worked and studied hard. You know how shy she is around people. For her to make acquaintances in the Capitol was hard for her. She spent most of her nights studying, and when she wasn’t studying she was working. She asked about our daughter in every letter. Does that sound like a girl who is out for herself? She came back with ways to help both of our families.”

“What about Mel?”

“Mel thinks Katniss is going to take her daddy away. Yesterday she told Katniss, dada mine.  Mel has to learn how to share.” Peeta ran his hands through his hair.

“Mel’s stubborn.”

“Just like her mother. She’s also jealous just like Katniss.”

“Mitsy,” Rye and Peeta blurted at the same time and both of them laughed remembering the girl Katniss threatened to shoot in the eye while she was pregnant. 

“Just yesterday Mitsy came in to purchase bread and Katniss gave her a look that would freeze the lake in the woods.”

“There’s a lake in the woods?” 

Peeta grinned at the memories of them frolicing in the lake. The skinny dipping episode made Mel, “Oh there’s a lake in the woods.”  

   “Huh,” Rye said.

“Just give Katniss a break. She’s trying real hard to fit in again.”

“Alright fine,” Rye said. 

Peeta rubbed his face as Rye walked away. He needed to get all of his ducks in a row, now if he could only wrangle his toddler. 

Two weeks later he dragged himself upstairs. His father and mother left for the Capitol for two weeks. Rye was also gone on a singles train tour around the districts. Peeta was left to run the bakery by himself. He was tired and cranky like Mel when she refused to take her nap.

Tonight he kept the bakery open an  hour extra for a particular bride and her groom. Josi Raisin made him jump through hoops tonight. She was getting married to Jensen the newest Mine Manager and she was picky about the flavor of her cake.  She tried their vanilla, their lemon, the apple spice, lavender, poppy seed, pecan, raspberry, carrot, vanilla almond, and their most expensive, the german chocolate cake, only to choose a plain sponge cake.

The peal of Mel’s laughter stopped him dead in his tracks. 

“Again mama,” Mel shouted excitedly. 

Peeta quickly went up the stairs, he found Mel sprawled on the floor with Katniss giving their daughter raspberry kisses on her tummy. Mel laughter’s filled his ears and Katniss' brilliant smile gave his stomach butterflies. 

“Look, it’s dada.”

“Dada,” Mel said running to him. She patted his tummy then said, “Mama, mama…” followed by a gurgle of words. 

Katniss walked up to him and smiled, hugging them both. “It seems that a little patience, a lullaby and belly raspberries is what it takes to win her over.” 

“Well, I can’t comment on the belly raspberries, but  your voice is what made me fall in love with you.” 

Katniss smiled as Mel rested her head on her shoulder.

Mel then said, “My mama.”

Katniss grinned then said, “Yes baby girl I’m your mama.”

Mel then turned to Peeta and said, “My papa.”

“Yes button I’m your papa.”

Mel then patted them both on the cheek and gave them kisses. 

Peeta’s heart burst, filled with happiness.  He  hugged his girls and sighed, this was the dream. 

The end

[miaouerie]

[coda] a pyrrhic victory/an elpidian daydream

this coda marks my first multichapter fic wrapped up and completed!!! so here’s some more related ramblings as a way for me to commemorate this milestone n___n

with the nonlinear narrative I thought I’d include a linked timeline for the chapters in case anyone (like me lol) wants to read the story in chronological order. then there’s some further explanation of what I’ve dubbed ~the jeron’s death conspiracy~ and notes from characterization I wasn’t able to include directly in the story, but were still important regardless...

furthermore, I want to thank @ninelanterns, @atthelamppost, and @sadieandor for following along with this story, as well as anyone else who came along for the adventure. this is definitely a darkfic as far as rebelcaptain goes but I hope that both endings were satisfying in their own ways !!

1. an actual chronological table of contents

Before Cassian is reaped:

day 15

Cassian’s time in the Games:

days 2, 9, 5, 18

What came after that:

days 6, 7, 11, 13, 14, 22, 26◆

Jeron dies:

days 20, 8, 25

Jyn is reaped and Cassian mentors her:

days 1, 3, 4, 12, 10, 16, 17◆, 19◆, 21, 23, 24, 27, 28, 29, 30

After Jyn wins her Games:

bonus chapter, day 31

◆ = chapters that are about trauma concurrent to most of the story, and loosely placed chronologically

2. the Jeron conspiracy

I decided to do a summary for this because I changed my plan slightly after posting day 8: “don’t say goodbye”/abandoned due to some inspiration from @ninelanterns; originally I was going to have snow have cassian brainwashed into genuinely believing that irga and his father were killed by someone with a grudge against them and the capitol (aka someone closely related to a tribute who died under their mentorship) in order to use him as a mouthpiece against those plotting against the capitol; the angst would’ve been from him finding out the truth and hating that his dad’s suicide was used for the capitol’s means. but then I got the idea to have snow brainwash cassian into believing that the “accident” his father and irga died in was actually his fault, because he told jeron the truth of what snow was doing to him in the capitol:

Snow sells Cassian “under the table” until he turns 19, which is when he has Cassian adopt a new persona that can be better capitalized on. Jeron realizes that Cassian’s faking it, suspects that Cassian has been hiding his victimhood this entire time, and when he confirms it realizes there’s no other way to get Cassian out of it; Snow certainly won’t let him sub in to mentor. Suicide is his solution to both Cassian’s problem and his guilt over not being able to protect his son.

Snow has Irga killed in the same way that Jeron kills himself to let Cassian and Lila know that Snow knows it was a suicide. Suicide is the ultimate refutation of Snow’s power—as well as the complete antithesis to any victor’s innate clinging to survival—so Snow has it covered up: Cassian, as one of two people to know the truth about Jeron’s suicide and Irga’s death, is tortured and brainwashed into believing that Jeron and Irga were killed in a power plant explosion as retribution for him disobeying Snow. Doing so serves two purposes: installing the cover-up and guarantees Cassian’s submission.

Before his death Jeron wrote a suicide note, knowing that he couldn’t kill himself and leave Cassian without an explanation. He knows that Snow will have their house stripped and searched, so he hides the note in what was designated to be Cassian’s house. He couldn’t have known it would be the one thing that would break through the brainwashing; if Cassian hadn’t found it, he would have continued to believe that it was all his fault.

Draven does his own investigation into Jeron and Irga’s deaths after witnessing the whiplash that was Cassian’s first three years as an unwilling victor whore, his outrageous personality flip after turning ninteen, and how his demeanor changed after undergoing “therapy” to cope with Jeron’s death. He finds out that Jeron’s death was a suicide, Irga’s death was retribution, and that Snow has an entire program to monetize and exploit victors after their Games.

3. getting from day 1 to 31?!

when I originally thought of this AU it was more about the angst that growing up in the limelight of the capitol as the son of a victor would be like, with constant camera crews as cassian was growing up, betting pools on when he was going to be reaped, etc. and more of an emphasis on the issues that cassian (as part of the pseudo-celebrity class that victors occupy in the capitol) would have trying to promote this fake relationship with jyn during the games to save her. there was also going to be a straight downer ending, with the closing scene being cassian telling jyn that they have to fake a relationship now in front of the cameras and jyn having a “what have you done?” moment

I deliberately did not go in depth with what jeron’s life as a victor was like, partly because plotting both jyn and cassian’s hunger games was already a Lot (I found out pretty quickly that you have to start with planning the arena first, in order to plan tribute deaths and sponsor gifts...) but jeron was an underdog winner, as are most of the victors from non-career districts. lila was pregnant around the time that jeron was reaped and esperanza, their first child, was born some time before jeron’s victory tour. snow had their daughter killed because of something jeron did/didn’t do on the tour; even though jeron and lila are shaken from the loss they agree to be open to having another child, provided that jeron doesn’t do anything to put the child at risk ever again.... but cassian would’ve gotten reaped regardless because there is no way snow wouldn’t have exploited the family drama!!! but cassian’s reaping creates a rift that is referenced in day 15: accidents. and even though jeron is successful in saving cassian that isn’t the end of it; while lila isn’t privy to what cassian is going through she can feel a marked difference each year he comes back in the way that mothers do, as well as the tension between father and son (cassian’s fear of jeron finding out as he’s dragged deeper and deeper vs. jeron’s suspicion that something wrong is happening that has to do with cassian), which all culminates in the year that cassian turns nineteen with jeron’s death. when her husband arrived in district 5 before cassian did he didn’t tell lila about their son being a horndog in the capitol, but lila seeing cassian after he finally gets back five weeks later confirms her worst fears. then she’s the one that discovers jeron’s body and is present when the peacekeepers come to take cassian back to the capitol. her son is gone for a month....... then when he comes back he’s spouting lies about jeron’s death even though both of them saw the body??? yeah, that’s why she nopes on out of victors’ village. after jeron’s death her and cassian don’t see each other for four years until cassian brings jyn home from the games

jyn’s backstory came together quickly but I had considered having bodhi be one of the tributes who died under cassian’s mentorship. bodhi and jyn would’ve been close friends so jyn would have already had that vendetta against cassian; it would’ve made hitting that original ending easier but having jyn be against cassian from the very start would’ve made it less plausible that they could earn each other’s trust before the start of jyn’s games............. while I wanted this story to be dark and depressing I still wanted it to have a reciprocated rebelcaptain end game, so :’)

it wasn’t until day 28 (the cassian/finnick noncon) that I got an idea for a not-so-horrible ending, and I blame the completely depressingly hopeless whump in that chapter for making me think “hmm maybe this shouldn’t end terribly” :’D btw, if anyone noticed I forgot annie cresta is in canon the 70th hunger games victor. for someone who’s neurotic about looking up details I have no idea how this fact escaped me because I didn’t notice until at least halfway through whumptober, so we’ll just say in this AU she’s the 71st victor. this weaves in nicely with my headcanon that after snow saw how easily cassian was manipulated when someone he loved was on the line, he had annie reaped to exert more control over finnick (which happens to be my favorite kind of odesta fic tbh). anyway after writing 3k of depressing andair (andor/odair ship name? ok i’m shutting up) cassian/finnick I had a lovely mental image of cassian and jyn cuddling on the train back home to district 5, relieved and alive, and thought that would be a more uplifting note to end on. then I remembered that I was writing this for whumptober, and decided to write the terrible ending too :’)

4. some chapter commentary because why not

[ETA later!]

5. is there no escape?

yes!!! yes they do escape:

in a pyrrhic victory, post-day 31, draven succeeds in absconding with cassian and meeting up with jyn, saw, lyra, and the rest of their resistance cell (an underground, pan-panem organization fittingly called.... the alliance). draven has to cut out cassian’s implant before they rendezvous with the group, which he ropes a medical professional into doing (he may or may not kill them afterwards); it’s the only mark cassian bears on his body until he starts getting freckles from being in the sun again. similar to mockingjay in how peeta’s hijacking was treated with therapy in district 13, cassian undergoes actual, legitimate therapy after he and draven settle in with the alliance HQ. draven hovers anxiously for the first several sessions because “therapy” in the capitol has a stigma, even before he read the term “extensive in-patient therapy” in cassian’s intendance records, and it does take a good while before they make any remarkable progress. but unlike katniss and peeta cassian is alright in jyn’s presence, and in fact prefers it. they’re almost always seen together, and while jyn has a good amount of guilt for leaving him behind the first time her motivation for staying with him is out of a genuine desire to help him get better so they can be with each other the same way they were in an elpidian daydream again.

in happily ever after!an elpidian daydream, cassian and jyn are able to escape together in between arriving home in district 5 and what was supposed to be jyn’s victory tour. jyn was never aware of what snow did with desirable victors because it’s really only the top 1% of panem and the victors who know about it; she and cassian escape after he tells her that he wants to leave with her, but he doesn’t tell her the real reason why he wants to escape until much later and jyn never sees the recording of cassian and finnick (but he does tell her it exists when he’s explaining the details of how snow exerts his control over the victors). their relationship progresses steadily, but the secret doesn’t come out until jyn points out that cassian is extremely passive in bed and only mirrors her desires. there’s varying attitudes towards sex in the districts vs. the libertine views in the capitol but cassian’s shame stems from his powerlessness in what he had to do Before. he receives therapy for it but jyn is patient and firm with reminding him that he had absolutely zero choice in the matter, and that she could never hate or be disgusted with him for it. there’s a lot to work through there as a result of cassian having to lie to himself about it for the first couple of years of it happening and then willingly choosing to engage with it when he was trying to save jyn, but their relationship comes out all the more stronger for it. as for what happens to draven?.... because this is the happily ever after ending I like to think he’s able to stay in the capitol and work as an agent codenamed fulcrum 🤪🤙 and that after his extraction when things get too dangerous for him in the capitol he and cassian are able to reunite again as part of the alliance/rebellion !!

[subsiist]

peeta mellark backstory.

TW. abuse, violence, amputation

In one of his earliest memories, Peeta was laying in bed in the room he shared with his older brothers wondering why he was born. Not in an angsty, woe is me sort of way, just generally curious. When he was little, he was still learning how to bake the bread and frost the cakes and was reminded on a daily basis that he was just another mouth to feed. His parents already had two sons, so why another? 

It was never a question he had answered, but the idea of love came wrapped around the idea of being needed from a young age. Or, at the very least, the love he received. His own love was often given without requiring anything in return. His mother was a hard woman to be around - the bruises on his chest or back or sometimes even his face growing up would prove that - but Peeta still loved her. He loved his father, despite the man’s passiveness to the abuse he saw at home. He loved his brothers, Rye and Cael, even if they weren’t exactly close.

Despite often feeling like an outsider in his own home, he could look back on his childhood with a small smile of fondness. They had their moments, didn’t they? Like all those times his father told him bedtime stories at night, quiet so Mama didn’t hear. Like when Rye pulled him towards the wrestling coach with his arm around Peeta’s shoulders and a smile on his face, claiming that he was a kid you’d regret missing out on. Like when Cael would shift in that bed they shared for years so Peeta could have the extra blankets on cold nights without feeling guilty.

And his mother. Peeta’s most recalled memory of her was just after the reaping, when she’d told him that she believed District Twelve would finally win. He was hurt, at the time, but there was a comfort to her words as well.

Because, in the end, he too wanted Katniss Everdeen to win.

He hadn’t expected her to bring him to the Victor’s Village with her but, well, here they are now. Peeta isn’t stupid, he knows what those berries had done to Panem. He reflects on his life often. The childhood that wasn’t that long ago where his heart was built and broken at the same time. The Games that left him without a leg and a head full of nightmares that could only be let go once brushed onto canvas in vivid colors of red and green and silver. 

Of after, where the girl is not really his but will always sorta be his anyway. He loves her. That’s something that is more defining than anything Peeta knows about himself or the Games or this world. And it’s okay that she doesn’t love him because at least he can keep her safe and make sure she stays alive. The marriage they’ve built - been forced to build - isn’t the one he used to picture in his old home with his eyes closed, hearing her sing in his ears despite hours having passed, but there’s still something real to it.

She may not love him, but he thinks she must like him, at least a little bit. Even if she didn’t, he’d still be there with his arms to comfort her at night and his bread to warm her in the morning and his smile to let her know she’s a better person than she thinks she is. It’s okay, he guesses, to do it this way. The proposal had plunged that knife into his heart and the wedding had twisted it, but they’re alive and that’s more they can say for Rue and Thresh and Cato and Clove and Foxface and… and… and…

And he intends to keep it that way. He has people to protect now. Katniss, Haymitch, Effie. Delly. His parents, his brothers. Katniss’ sister. God, even Gale. The list is ever growing. Hazelle now. Chandler. The latter feels especially important for the Quarter Quell, where everyone has seemed to have forgotten him in favor of the Hawthorne matriarch.

Peeta gets it. He does. He knows how much Gale’s mother means to Katniss and, in return, that means something to him. He understands that Haymitch had once had to make a choice and there aren’t any hard feelings for it not being him. But… he won’t let that happen to someone else. He’s a mentor now and that means he has a life in his hands. He might not be able to save either of them, but there are two of them and he’s determined to make it count.

Not to mention there are still the embers of a fire burning, igniting slowly but steadily. Peeta doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but if there’s a rebellion, he will learn of it. And then he will do whatever he has to in order to keep them safe. Her safe. If it means sparking that flame, he will bring the torch. If it means squashing it before it’s started, he will bring the water.

If it means his death, he just hopes he can have one final, beautiful memory to take with him.

[holidaywishes]

not all monsters do monstrous things...

Part 6: The Argument

  Summary of Series: Delly Cartwright lost her best friend, Peeta, to   the games. Now, the one that took him seems to have a soft spot for her.

  Summary of Chapter: Delly has been living with Cato for a couple weeks now but his constant sneaking out leaves her feeling angry and alone.

  Warning: Fluff, some angst, mentions of prostitution,

  Author’s Note: This one is a bit longer but we’re starting to get to more exciting parts of the series so get pumped! Again, credit goes to original fanfic.net writer of They Caught Fire. Find it, read it, it’s good. Mine is slightly more flushed out but the idea is the same. So credit where credit is due.

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

Delly’s P.O.V

  It had been two weeks since you were torn from your home and brought to the Capitol to live with Cato. He tried explaining it to you but you refused to listen.

  “You can’t ignore me forever” he said after days of you not talking to him, earning a scoff from you as you walked to the couch, “if you would just talk to me, you’d understand why you’re here”

  “I’m not interested”

  “So you’re just going to live here in silence?”

  “If that’s the way it has to be”

  “Whatever,” he sighed, rubbing his temples, “I have to go. Stay here, read some books. Watch something. So whatever, just stay here. Got it?”

  “Yeah-uh” you said, waving your hand to shoo him away and he shook his head as a reply. When he finally left, you caught yourself staring at the closed door, biting the corner of your mouth as you contemplated peeking out the hole in the door. You huffed as you stood up and hopped to the door, hoping you’d still be able to see him, and, there he was, climbing into a limo, “where is he going?” You said to yourself as the car drove away toward the bright lights of the Capitol Centre. You spent a few hours searching through his cabinets and exploring different rooms of the house, starting to get bored but not knowing what else to do. When you had run out of options, you decided to get some sleep when there was a knock on the door, “company?” You thought to yourself, “it couldn’t be, Cato wouldn’t allow that.” Whoever was at the door, knocked again and you stood behind the door, biting your lip as your hand hesitated to open the door

  “Hello?” The voice called, you suddenly flew toward the door to answer it, desperate for company. “Oh! Hello?” they said

  “Hello..” you replied, not inviting them in

  “I’m Finnick,” he smiled, outstretching his hand, “nice to meet you.”

  “I’m--” you stopped, not knowing if you should introduce yourself, “Delly.”

  “Can I come in, Delly?” he asked, walking past you into Cato’s home

  “Uhh..” you stammered, “I’m sorry, Cato isn’t here”

  “No I know. He’s out... partying” he smirked

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “I just wanted to meet you”

  “You know about me?”

  “Cato mentioned something a little while ago”

  “I see...” you sighed, closing the door and walking in his direction

  “He explained you quite accurately,” he said and you tilted your head, “he was very... smitten, let’s say.”

  “Smitten?” you scoffed, “he’s sure doing a hell of a job showing it”

  “Go easy on him, huh?” he said softly, sitting on the couch as if he was going to be staying a while

  “Go easy on the victor who killed my best friend and tore me away from my family?” you snarled

  “He’s been put in a tough situation now. He’s actually not a bad guy...”

  “How am I supposed to act? He won’t tell me why I’m here, He didn’t even ask me to come here -- I was just thrown into a train and dragged here”

  “I have a feeling he tried to tell you why you’re here but you didn’t listen”

  “No...” you tried, “fine. I’ve been trying to ignore him because I’m angry. I don’t want to be here, I want to be at home with my family and friends.”

  “He means well,” he laughed, “he’s just... never had to be nice to anyone before.” You scoffed again, rolling your eyes, finally sitting down next to him

  “You’re really going to tell me to sit there and give him a chance?”

  “Yes”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” he sighed, looking down as he twiddled his thumbs, “I think you’ll realize how much he needs you.” The words caught you off guard. No one had ever needed you before. Not your parents. Not your brother. Not Peeta. No one. So the idea that you could be that important to someone made you want to rethink everything.

  “But..” you started, sighing and leaning back into the couch as you groaned, “I haven’t been able to leave this giant house for two weeks. And he leaves every chance he gets”

  “Let him explain why..” Finnick urged

  “Why can’t I leave?”

  “Because you’re not from here. People would have questions”

  “No one knows me here”

  “You forget that the reapings and the tours are all broadcast. People know you’re Peeta’s best friend. They may not remember your name but they know your story” he replied, leaning his elbows on his knees

  “Great...” you sighed, “so I’m just supposed to give Cato a chance while I stay locked up here like some... prisoner?”

  “Oh, Ms. Cartwright,” he scoffed, “you’re not the only prisoner here.” You scrunched your eyebrows together and opened your mouth to speak when Cato threw the door open and huffed as he walked through the large corridors. Doubling back when he realized that you were, in fact, not alone.

  “Finnick?” he asked with a growl. He looked like he’d had quite the night; shirt torn, hair messed up, a small purple mark forming on his jaw

  “Hey buddy!” Finnick laughed, “how was your night?”

  “What are you doing here?” he said through bared teeth and you watched as Finnick led him back to the door, whispering something in his ear that you didn’t quite hear, until they looked back at you

  “Just sit down and talk to her” Finnick said to Cato as he waved goodbye to you. You waved back and waited for Cato to yell at you for inviting someone in but instead he just closed the door softly and stood with his head against the door for a moment before finally speaking to you

  “I didn’t think you’d still be awake...”

  “I was going to go to bed but Finnick...” you started

  “What did he tell you?” the words grew louder with each step he took toward you, forcing a flinch to overtake you until you were practically cowering with fear

  “He didn’t tell me anything,” you replied meekly, “he just told me to give you a chance.” He seemed to soften at your confession, dropping his head and letting out a sigh

  “You should get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

xx

Cato’s P.O.V.

  You didn’t know what to do with Delly. You weren’t sure if she was telling you the truth about Finnick and you needed to know what he told her in order to protect her. But she was making it increasingly difficult.

  “Delly,” you said as she walked into the kitchen the next morning, “we should talk...”

  “Sure” she replied, sitting down at the table

  “I don’t know what Finnick told you but in order for us to trust each other,” you started, watching her eyes follow your movements, “there’s probably some things you should know.”

  “Yeah.. like... why you’re--”

  “I didn’t tear you away from your home.” You interrupted and she furrowed her brow at you, “I was in the middle of writing you a letter explaining what was going on when Wade, my mentor, explained what was happening to you.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that? I’m not supposed to think that this is what Victors do? That this is what your District Partner would’ve done if the two of you won together? Keeping people around like prizes to do whatever you please with”

  “Don’t you dare talk about her!” you yelled

  “WHY NOT?! IT’S NOT LIKE YOU DO! I AM SO SICK OF WALKING AROUND GLASS TO NOT UPSET YOU!”

  “Watch what you say next Delly...” you warned but she didn’t listen

  “You were all cruel, in that arena. I get it, you had to be. But her?” she said, “she was the worst. Of all of the Careers.”

  “She was a soldier” you said

  “SHE WAS INSANE!”

  “SHE WAS TRAINED!”

  “TO BE A INSANE PERSON?!”

  “IF SHE WAS INSANE, AM I NOT A MONSTER?”

  “MAYBE YOU ARE! MAYBE I WAS WRONG ABOUT YOU!”

  “AT LEAST I’M NOT WEAK. LIKE YOU AND YOUR LITTLE BAKER FRIEND.”

  “WHY DID YOU EVEN BRING ME HERE?!” Her yelling had caused her voice to crack and you could only imagine how raw her throat must have felt. Her eyes were beginning to well with tears, “I just wanna go home”

  “If you leave,” he stammered, sitting down across from where you stood, “I can’t protect you”

  “Protect me? From what?” You asked

  “President Snow.”

  “I don’t und--” she started but stopped quickly when you glared at her

  “He saw us talking at the Apothecary, during the Tour,” you explained, “he got the idea in his head that there was something going on between us. So, he used you against me”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He said he would kill you and your family if I didn’t do what he said. I couldn’t let you die. I didn’t want you to die”

  “Why not?” she asked harshly, forcing you to shake your head at her question, “you don’t know me. You don’t know my family. You’ve killed people before, and we’re just from District 12. We’re outsiders right? So it wouldn’t have been a big deal to you to kill us.”

  “Delly...” you said softly, reaching out to hold her hands but she tore them away from you, “Snow wasn’t wrong. Maybe you don’t feel anything for me. Maybe you have feelings for Gale..”

  “Gale?” she questioned

  “But,” you continued, “there was something for me there when we met. I didn’t know what President Snow would do but I knew I couldn’t let anything happen to you. Things just spiraled.” You watched as she shook her head, trying to understand your words, and her eyes shifted around the room

  “Fine.” She huffed, “but explain to me why you’re always leaving? Why I can’t go anywhere? I hate being cooped up here all the time and you leave at all hours of the day! I mean sometimes you’re gone before I wake up and then out the entire day. What are you doing?”

  “I can’t--”

  “You have to!” she yelled

  “No, I don’t!” you shouted back

  “Then let me leave.” She countered, sitting back against her chair and crossing her arms over her chest

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can,” she replied, “let me go outside. Take me with you, wherever it is you go. Take me to one party in the Capitol and I won’t say anything more about it. I’ll stay here and continue to do as you expect me to do.”

  “Delly...” you groaned

  “I’m thousands of miles from home. From my family. From everything I’ve ever known. I deserve not to be treated like a criminal!” The two of you stared at each other for a while before you eventually agreed, even though you knew it was a bad idea that meant Snow would be displeased. But the smile on her face almost made it worth it, you just hoped it would be a fatal agreement.

xx

Delly’s P.O.V

  You had somehow managed to convince Cato to take you out of his mansion and into the Capitol for a party. You were sure that was where he was constantly running off to every night and you just wanted to see why he was so consumed with it. He set out a dress for you on your bed that you were positive his stylist had picked out for him -- a short metallic pastel blue dress to compliment his eyes with sharp shoulders that reminded you of Effie Trinket’s outfits during the Reapings -- and you quickly got dressed to head to the club that Cato was taking you to. When you walked into the club, you were in awe at the opulence of it all; the ceiling stretched for miles and the marble tile covered the entirety of the club, making the music echo throughout every corner. There was stained glass on the dome ceiling that looked as if it depicted great wars and you couldn’t help but be lost in the images you saw.

  “Delly?” Cato asked, bringing you back to reality

  “Sorry,” you said, “I’ve just never seen anything so beautiful before”

  “You’re going to give yourself away” he whispered to you

  “What do you mean?” you asked

  “I got you this dress so people would think that you were from the inner districts, 1, 2, 3, not from District 12. If you continue to fawn over the ceiling, people will definitely know you’re not from here,” he chided, still whispering in your ear, “you look stunning by the way.” You blushed at his compliment and composed yourself, taking your eyes away from the décor

  “So, how do I blend in?” you asked

  “For starters,” he smirked, “have a drink. Then something to eat. Then move over to the dance floor”

  “I’m allowed to dance?” you joked

  “Yes,” he said, “but not too much. Just enough to show off your dress and then head back to the bar.” You did as he said, not wanting to get either of you in trouble, until you saw someone pull him aside

  “He’s just doing business,” a voice said from behind you, “don’t worry, he won’t leave you behind.” You turned around to find Johanna Mason watching Cato walk away with a woman much older than him

  “What do you mean?” you said as you turned to her, “what kind of business?”

  “Oh sweetheart,” she laughed, “you must be the girl from District 12.”

  “What? No! I’m from District 1...” you lied, hoping that the dress and your makeup would fool her

  “He talked about you, Cato, he told us about the girl he met on his Victory Tour whose hair was beautifully gold and whose eyes were like oceans of Sapphire.” She scoffed, forcing you to furrow your brows at her statements, “It’s okay, I’m not going to out you.”

  “What did you mean about Cato? What kind of business is he doing with that woman?” you asked again

  “President Snow has many of the Victors... sell themselves to members of the Capitol Elite as a way of keeping them in line.” You thought about it for a moment but didn’t want to believe it

  “No,” you replied, “Snow loves Cato. He was the perfect victor. He believes that the games are exactly what Snow has told Panem they are.”

  “It’s that kind of dedication that Snow preys on. He needs someone who he can control and tell him that it’s all the price you pay for winning the Games.” She moved to sit down on a curved, purple velvet couch and encouraged you to do the same, which you did, as she continued to explain, “See, I’m not like the other Victors. I don’t have anyone left that I care about so Snow couldn’t force me to do anything. I was free to decline his offer and he couldn’t do anything about it. But the others, they weren’t so lucky. Our dear President would threaten the lives of those we loved most if we, as Victors, didn’t do exactly as he asked.”

  “He said he’d kill us” you mumbled to yourself

  “Yes,” Johanna responded, “or, more accurately, he’d have someone kill you.”

  “So why me? Why would President Snow threaten to kill me and not Cato’s family?”

  “Because,” she huffed, “Cato’s family are the only ones in District 2 who train the tributes to become Victors. Sure, it’s an illegal activity that should not be condoned by our government but it makes for a more exciting Hunger Games, so President Snow allows it. Encourages it even. And because Cato’s parents are the experts in training our young Victors, Snow knew Cato wouldn’t believe his threats against them. That’s where you come in.”

  “I’m not exactly Cato’s type...” you groaned, “he’s not exactly going to worry about me enough for Snow not to kill me or my family. I mean... if he cared he wouldn’t be working tonight”

  “He’s always working. Whether he thinks he is or not” she said

  “So what do I do?” You replied, turning your head in hopes of finding the tall blonde victor you came with

  “Take in the Capitol luxury. Drink, dance, eat. Kiss someone if you want. But be careful what you say. You never know who might be listening...” You turned your head back just in time to find Johanna had left you and you shrugged before heading to the bar to order a drink, only to be stopped by an arm

  “I’ve never seen you before...” the voice that belonged to the arm said

  “I’m.. uhm... a friend of Cato’s...” you stuttered

  “The new victor?” you nodded nervously, “I’m Gloss.” He seemed to be sizing you up and you weren’t quite sure how to proceed, “you look familiar. Where would I have seen you?” he continued to pry and your mouth began to feel dry

  “He bothering you?” Cato said as he suddenly appeared behind you

  “No, he’s fine. It’s fine, I was just going to get a drink...” you replied, gesturing toward the bar and to Gloss to get him to move aside. He apologized and moved aside while you ordered a drink but when the bartender wouldn’t order you a drink, Cato stepped in

  “Glass of Champagne, Bartender,” he said, “and quick. Before I get angry.” You looked up at him, amazed at how much his presence seemed to compel everyone to listen to him, before smiling and taking a sip of your drink. “What?” he chuckled when he noticed you staring

  “Dance with me” you smiled

  “I don’t know, Delly,” he whined, “people might talk.”

  “People will always talk but we’re here to have fun”

  “One dance.” He caved and you dragged him onto the dance floor. You both moved to the fast-paced music, you laughing at him when he did an old-fashioned dance move, until the music slowed and you awkwardly smiled at him

  “I know you said one dance...” he smiled back at you, moving closer to you and putting your arms on his shoulders while he placed his hands on your hips. His eyes began roaming the club and you tried to bring his attention back to you, if only to calm his nerves, but it didn’t work.

  “We should go. People are staring...” He dropped his hands from your hips, taking your hand and leading you outside where a car was waiting. When you arrived back at his house, he ran ahead of you and you tried to talk to him

  “Cato...” you called, “please, Cato, talk to me.” He stood across from you, eyes trained on yours, and you took a sharp inhale in preparation for what he might say

  “We shouldn’t have been dancing like that. I shouldn’t have brought you there.” He replied sternly

  “Why didn’t you tell me? About what Snow was making you do?” you asked, moving slowly toward him

  “What was I supposed to say? I’m being prostituted by our President so you don’t die?”

  “Yes!” you exclaimed, “because it’s the truth. And it would have made so much more sense than him just bringing me here for no reason.”

  “Well, I didn’t know exactly what to say...” He dropped his eyes to the floor and, for the first time, he seemed so vulnerable. Almost scared.

  “You don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to. I get it now. I get that he’s got a hold on you and that you’re just as much a prisoner as I felt I was. I’m here to listen, if you need it, but otherwise, I’ll do as you ask and stay here. I won’t complain and I won’t ask questions.”

  “I don’t want you to be miserable...” he confessed and you smiled

  “Just talk to me every once in a while. Make me feel like I’m human and maybe you’ll feel more human, too.”

  “Deal.” He smiled, gently taking your hand in his, rubbing your palm with his thumb before clearing his throat and heading to bed. You weren’t sure what any of tonight meant -- the dance, the kindness he showed you, the way he stood up for you, -- but you hoped that this wasn’t all there was for the two of you.

[run-in-the-shadow]

My Unnecessary Pitch of the New Hunger Games Prequel (a book that has already been written)

So I’ve given a lot of thought to the new Hunger Games prequel that Suzanne Collins is releasing next year. While there’s always some risk in resurrecting older properties, I’ve decided that I am excited for this. 15-year-old me rise.

But I’ve also been wondering, how could this story work? What will Collins do to make sure this isn’t just a Hunger Games 2.0? What will make it new and unique? How can it add to the existing story in a necessary way?

So I’ve basically come up with the format, characters, and basic plot that I think would be really cool in this potential prequel. Of course I’m not expecting any of this to actually be in the new book, but on the off chance that I actually do predict something right, I just want to write all of this down for the record.

If you’re at all curious about what I have in mind, read below. It’s long. Whoops.

Why it won’t be Hunger Games 2.0

The first Hunger Games novel has a fairly familiar formula, no doubt because the Games themselves have followed the same formula and traditions for 74 years at that point. There’s the reaping, tributes being picked, the training, the ceremonies, the interviews, the Games, the killing, and finally, one victor. Katniss, being the revolutionary that she is, broke that when both she and Peeta shared the victory.

But in order to have Katniss in the 74th Games, there can’t really be a Katniss-like character in the 10th Games. I’ve thought it over, and I just don’t think the narrator/main character (assuming Collins continues with 1st person POV) will or should be someone who is reaped as a tribute. We’re too familiar with that experience. We know the motions; we know the feelings. Additionally, it would seem all too predictable to assume that the main character we follow will end up being victor of the Games. Unless Collins does make the bold choice to kill them off. But then what? Would that make an impact on the overall story? One kid’s death among hundreds over the years?

I then thought, what if the story were told be someone at home, someone witness to the Games through the TV, the same as everyone else in the country watching? Meanwhile, they have their own fight to survive or take care of their families or whatever. Perhaps it’s someone they know, a friend or a relative, who is fighting in the Games. Basically if the Hunger Games were told from Prim’s perspective.

But we know why this won’t work. It’s boring. We are the Capitol. We enjoy the spectacle. We need to be closer to the action. Can you imagine a movie adaptation of someone just sitting, watching the Games from their home? So no, we can’t have that. Not for an entertaining story.

But if I don’t think it should be someone competing in the Games or someone watching in the districts, what does that leave...

The Young Mentor

(Sorry if the gender-neutral pronouns make it confusing. I just don’t care if these characters are gendered one way or the other.)

So here’s my pitch: Our main character is a previous victor of the Games, winning within the last couple of years (7th-9th Games). Perhaps they won when they were 15, so for this book, they are 17. Through brief flashbacks, we can discover details about their particular Games without having to go through the whole routine again. Not only that, but we can explore the aftermath, the PTSD, the shock, the changes in their lives, etc. And being a previous victor, they now have to take on the role as mentor for their district’s tributes.

Other details: they should be from a district other than 12. I just think it would be important to explore more areas of Panem, especially early Panem. Was the inequality from district to district just as extreme as it was in Katniss’ time? What if our main character was from one of the Career Districts? Or would they even be Career Districts that early on in the history of the Games? Maybe our character’s actions or experience contributed to those districts basically cheating the system. I really don’t have a particular district in mind at this time, but I just don’t want it to be 12 again.

What I especially love about this character’s age is that they would have memory of “before” the Games. The first Games would have occurred when they were 7. They could remember the distinct shift in the country, and they would be able to remember the adjustment to that life. Those are just very interesting topics to explore, since we’ve never seen life in Panem at that time, especially from the firsthand experience of a child.

The General Plot (& inevitable romance?)

So our main character is a mentor to their district’s 2 new tributes for the 10th Hunger Games. Perhaps this is their first time mentoring. Perhaps it is not, and the past year’s experience was either traumatic or just didn’t go very well. They probably still weren’t over the shock, and perhaps, like Haymitch, they were just too cynical to seriously mentor. Or maybe there is an older victor from the district who took on most of the mentorship roles. I like the idea of that relationship between 2 very new victors who don’t have any idea what they’re doing. Would it be antagonistic? Sibling-like? Would they just avoid each other? On the other hand, I also like thinking of our main character being the first victor of their district, and they have to deal with all that responsibility on their own.

Anyway, our character is a mentor, and one of the tributes reaped just happens to be someone they know very well. I’m thinking either a best friend or love interest. I also thought that they could be someone they don’t know well, but through the course of mentoring, they get to know each other and become friends/love interests/people who care about one another. But I think I’d rather they be invested from earlier on. There’s always potential for friendship at the start to turn into romance later. And one that feels slightly forbidden at that, between a mentor and a tribute.

(I don’t mean to over-emphasize the romance aspect. I noticed a lot of people looking forward to the potential romances in the new book, while others criticizing those for missing the main message of the story. I’m just trying to be realistic. This is YA, after all. There most likely will be a romantic storyline at some point. But I am trying to avoid any love triangles in this pitch.)

So our main character and their tribute friend are plotting for how to survive the Games. Obviously our character wants to keep their friend alive, ideally to victory. While in the past, they might not have cared as much, disillusioned to the whole ordeal, this time they have a reason to care about the circumstances of these Games.

As for the other tribute, the one who’s not the friend? Who knows, who cares? But really, the other tribute will probably be the focus of the other mentor (if there is one), or else will notice the favoritism toward the other tribute and feel resentful. That could brew conflict, especially once we’re within the Games themselves.

The Games Themselves

It being the 10th anniversary of the Games, you know they’re gonna make it special. Like the clock design in the 75th games, I figure this one will have some kind of special theme to it. What might that theme be, you may ask? I don’t know. I’m not writing the book. But really, I can’t worry about the specifics right now. Let’s just settle on...an arena in which you can only travel up, eventually meeting in the middle at the peak of a mountain with nowhere to go. Imagine a vertical-only course in which you have no choice but to climb, since there are cliffs and maybe even rising floodwaters that force you to keep moving. There’s a concept. I just made it up as I went. I guess that was specific.

Anyway, our main character is only concerned about the wellbeing of their friend within the arena. We get to see the behind-the-scenes of trying to connect with sponsors and influence the Gamemakers. Sure, there will still be some of that watching-the-Games-on-TV stuff, but our main character will still be much more directly involved with the action than if they were just stuck in their district. Also, we might see more daily life in the Capitol while our main character deals there.

Within the Games themselves, you know how it goes. People die, get killed. Our character’s friend will do all right for themselves, making it pretty close to the last few tributes in the arena. But I do expect that the friend will die. I know, tragic. But again, it just feels too predictable to make the tribute we focus on the most win the game. The circumstance of the friend’s death could be as simple as slipping and falling. They could’ve been killed by someone from another district. But now I’m liking the idea that they could be killed by their fellow tribute, the one ignored by our mentor. This tribute might end up actually winning the Games, causing a conflict of emotions in our main character as this new victor (who they’ll regularly have to be around from here on out) is the reason their friend is dead, yet they are expected to be proud that their district has yet another victor.

And now I come back to the idea of the main character being from a Career District, before the “Career” part even became a thing. Maybe seeing their friend die and feeling like they could’ve done more makes them feel guilty or responsible. Maybe they see that their mentorship wasn’t good enough. Something triggers them to want to be better, to make sure that deaths like their friend’s don’t happen again. Maybe they institute the “Career” ideology and promote it through the district, preparing the children there to fight to win. And there you have the start of a beast of the Hunger Games.

Other cool things that could be included

As I’ve said, I think a look at life in the Capitol would be interesting. Who’s leader/president at this time, and what are they like? Surely it’s not still Snow. I’ve had thoughts that he could be older than he looks, what with all his surgeries. But according to the wiki page, Snow was 1 when the 1st Games took place. That would make him 10 in this book. Possibly a cameo of a weird child in the Capitol? Maybe. (Imagine the book being narrated by him, a 10-year-old kid who would grow up to be a dictator, having no concept of life before the Games existed...scary.)

I wonder where their technology is at this point in Panem’s history. During Katniss’ time, it is quite advanced, but what about 64 years before that time? Where are they in technological and biological advancements? Do they even have forcefields around the tributes’ living quarters so they don’t jump and kill/hurt themselves? Maybe something happens in this book that gives them the reason to install those...

Speaking of Katniss, I know it would be cool to tie it back to her in some Skywalkerian way. But I actually don’t think that’s necessary, and I just don’t want a rehash of her same story. Perhaps some allusions are fine, but there’s enough time and distance from Katniss that I see very little reason to make it about her.

It’s late, and I really don’t know what more there is to say. I’m excited for the story, regardless of what it will actually involve. If it’s anything like my little prediction, great! But I’m not the author. And I trust that Suzanne will tell the story that she feels is the most necessary to be told.

[kriscme]

One Life To Live

“One Life to Live” is the title I’ve settled on for this fic (thanks Loueze).  It’s only one chapter instead of my usual three, but it was trickier to do as it sets up what happens next - whatever that may be.  Even I don’t know.   As usual, could be subject to change later on if it suits the plot.  When it’s finished it will be put on AO3.  Thanks for reading.  Chapter 20 Marcus Muir pulls a map from his pack, unfolds it, and lays it across the rock ledge.  It’s a topographical map which shows elevation changes.  He also has another that shows landscape features.   And aerial photographs taken from a hovercraft as well. Not to mention some kind of handheld device that reminds me of a Holo.   Only this doesn’t show pods but your location anywhere in Panem.   Marcus uses it in conjunction with his maps.   “Why did you need me when you have all this stuff?” I ask.   I take a water bottle from the side pocket of my pack and take a big gulp.  The weather is still chilly, but the climb to the top of the ridge has me sweating under my clothes.   Marcus turns his extraordinary eyes to mine. They are a light brown, the colour of maple syrup, and almost the same golden brown of his hair.   Paired with even features, a lithe athletic build, he’s not too bad on the eyes.  A little like Finnick in appearance actually, if Finnick had a not-quite-as-good-looking older brother. “There’s no substitute for local knowledge,” he says as he refolds the map and tucks it back into his pack.   “Take this place.”   He sweeps his hand over the lush valley below.  It’s a magnificent view and a familiar one.  It’s where Gale and I used to meet.  “A map only tells you that there’s a high elevation point and then a sharp drop in altitude.  It takes someone who’s actually been here to know that it’s worth the climb to see it.” “Humph” I grunt in reply.  “And why should it be so important that there’s a view worth seeing?” “For a look-out,” he says, his gaze now trained on the horizon.   “This is perfect.   We’ll have to put up a barrier, of course, for safety’s sake. We don’t want people too close to the edge and falling off.” He maps out a large square with his hands.  “We could put a platform right here.  And once that thicket of bushes is removed, there’ll be nothing to impede the view.” He’s right.  The bushes are in the way.  And the loss of them won’t take anything away from the natural beauty of the place.  But they’re not just any bushes.  Gale and I would nestle into a nook in the rocks between these bushes and the ledge, and talk, and eat, and plan our hunting strategy for the day.  This is the place where we met on that last morning before the reaping to share a meal of bakery bread and a goat cheese, made by Prim.   A few meters away is the large flat rock where Cressida filmed us.  And it’s where I came to rest, that first time I could rouse myself to venture back into the woods after I was confined to 12.  I let the last of Gale go that day, that day Peeta returned.  It was a turning point, I now realize.  To be free of the ties that had bound me to him.   But it was for no purpose in the end.  Peeta no longer cared. 

“Imagine it, Katniss,” Marcus enthuses.  “People using the forest as it should be.  Out exercising and enjoying nature and learning about the natural world. That’s the way we conserve it.  Not by putting fences around it and shutting everyone out.  Or the way it is now with people doing whatever they like.”   I say nothing but he doesn’t seem to expect a response.  I think he’s used to my sullen silences by now.  He hoists his pack onto his shoulders and that’s the signal for me to do the same.   He likes to keep moving.  It’s been a challenge for me to keep up, and I don’t consider myself a slouch when it comes to traversing through the woods. Ambivalent is too mild a word for how I feel about Marcus’s purpose here.  He wants to establish national parks to conserve our natural heritage for prosperity, he says.  He got the idea from an ancient book he discovered in the basement of the Capitol library where he worked.  He had access to all the old books stored down there, many of them forbidden to the public.  They had national parks before the dark days, it seems, and they were very successful. Most of the wilderness areas we have now were once national parks.  The irony is that great care was taken to conserve these areas but the rest of the planet was left to go to pot.  The changes in climatic conditions – rising sea levels, or something – led to civil strife, and then wars and then finally the Panem we know today. It’s not that I don’t see the value in it. I know what’s happened to the woods since the fences came down and people are free to enter as they please. Before the rebellion, you would have been whipped in the town square, or even hanged, if you were caught trespassing.  Only a few of us were daring enough, or desperate enough, to risk it. But, because there were so few of us, what was taken from nature was very little and it quickly recovered.  When I escorted Marcus into the woods for the first time, I saw through his eyes just how much damage has been done.  People have lost the fear that once kept them out of the woods from either predators or the law.  And they are no longer afraid of being put to death if they are caught in possession of a weapon.  Forget bows and snares, firearms are used now and some species are less abundant as they used to be through over hunting.  Trees, some of them centuries old, are indiscriminately chopped down for building material or firewood.  And human footprints crisscross the terrain causing erosion and destruction to undergrowth. I saw rubbish left behind by picnickers, and the remains of a camp fire that was surely too big for safety.  Yet, on the other hand, I don’t want a look-out built on my old meeting place either.  Gale and I were the only ones who knew it was there, so well hidden it is, and now everyone will know about it.   It dawns on me that there was a least one good thing about the pre-war days and that was having the woods virtually all to myself. We continue our walk along the ridge. Marcus makes a few notes as he goes, stopping occasionally to peer across the valley.  I think he’s searching for more look-out sites.   Eventually we descend into a saddle with another steep climb just ahead of us.  It’s sheltered from the wind here and sunlight filters through the tall straight pines.    A fallen tree lies invitingly a few meters away.  I glance hopefully over at Marcus.  My stomach is rumbling and I want to eat.  Luckily, he seems to have the same idea because he props his pack against the log and pulls out a rumpled paper bag.   “Ready for lunch?” he asks. I don’t have to be asked twice.  I take a seat beside him on the log and get my food out too – ham sandwiches, a banana and a couple of cheese buns.  The buns are from Peeta.  For some reason, he’s started baking them for me instead of cookies, even though I can get cheese buns from the bakery.  I think, maybe, that he has a memory of baking them for me, and he’s acting it out to see where it leads.  Rather like with the snickerdoodles when he couldn’t remember the key ingredient.  Going through the motions helped him to remember.   I think now that is what was behind all the touching he used to do.  It came out of all the hugging and affectionate gestures we were forced to do in public as the star-crossed lovers.  His body remembered it even if he didn’t.  And now his body remembers baking cheese buns for me.  Cheese buns equals Katniss sort of thing.  Much as I would like to, I don’t set any store by it.  The action means little without the feelings behind it.   “I know how you feel,” says Marcus. “Hmm?” I mumble through a mouthful of sandwich. “About your woods being turned into a national park.  When you’ve had it to yourself for so long, it becomes like your home.  You certainly don’t want strangers walking through it.  And then there’s the peace and solitude. It’s just not the same when you have to share it. “ I look at him skeptically.  How could anyone from the Capitol know how I feel? All the Capitolites I knew were as divorced from nature as you could possibly get. Artifice is what they valued. Expensive cloying perfumes. Thumping synthetic music that would as soon give you a headache.  What colour wig to wear that day.     “I grew up not far from the mountains east of The Capitol,” Marcus continues.   “The Rocky Mountains they were called in the old days.  Very different from here – the mountains are much taller, more rugged. And there’s far fewer trees but in its way it’s just as beautiful.  My father and I would go hiking most weekends.  Sometimes we’d camp out overnight.  He knew someone whose job it was to the manage the border fence.  He’d turn the electricity off so we could slip under it.  In return for a monetary contribution, of course.” “Wait! Why would you have to get past an electrified fence?  I thought they only had them in the districts.” I say, in surprise. “No, we had them too.  Only it wasn’t to keep us out.   It was to stop people from neighboring districts from getting in. You know, terrorists and other malcontents. That’s what we were told anyway.  My grandmother lived in terror that she’d be murdered in her bed by marauding savages if the fence failed.  It’s a common phenomenon, I’ve noticed, that we assume that others will act exactly like ourselves, if given the opportunity.  We oppress others in the mistaken belief that if we don’t, the oppressed will just turn around and do the same to us.” “But we didn’t,” I point out.  Marcus is free to travel the country as he pleases and to promote a scheme that was forbidden under Capitol rule.  My former prep team prospers in a foreign district. They couldn’t have done that under Snow. But, underneath, a disquieting thought niggles at me.  The Victor’s meeting with Coin and the proposal to choose between another Games with Capitol children, or the extermination of all Capitol citizens.  It was all made up by Coin, wasn’t it?  I assume it had to have been, since neither of those things happened.  But still, at least one person had the idea.  It’s possible she wasn’t the only one. “No, you didn’t,” confirms Marcus, gazing straight ahead. We sit in silence for a little while.  I glance over at him as he quietly eats his lunch.  Suddenly I have an urge to reach out to him, to know him better.  I sense that, in a way, he’s like me.  A kindred spirit of sorts. “My father took me into the woods too.   Not to hike or camp.  But to show me how to hunt and forage.  I was named from the katniss plant that grows around here. Katniss roots are edible – a bit like a potato.  My father once told me, “that as long as you find yourself, you’ll never starve.”” “And it’s in the woods that you find yourself?” he asks, with an understanding smile. “Yes,” I say, after considering his question for a moment.  I’d never thought of it that way.  That my father’s words could allude to more than just my physical survival.  “For almost as long as I can remember, actually.  A friend once told me that I never smile except in the woods.”  I can’t help my lips turning upwards at the memory.  It was Gale who said it to me.  He certainly had to wait a long time for one.  It seems funny now, how intense and focused I used to be. Marcus laughs.  “I bet that’s not true.” He starts to pack away the remains of his lunch. “You do get a sense of ownership about it.  That it won’t be just yours anymore.  Not once we start making it more accessible by laying down walking tracks and putting up signs.  But you know it’s happening already – this incursion by the public.  And they have a right to enjoy the forest too.  At least this way, it can be regulated.  If it’s left unchecked and without rules . . . well, you’ve seen what will happen.” I nod.  “Yeah, it’s not that I don’t see the necessity.  It’s just . . . well, it won’t be the same, will it?” “No, it won’t,” he concedes.  “But change is inevitable.  It’s better to adapt than to fret about something that won’t come back.” I think about this as we make the long hike back to 12.  About fretting over something that won’t come back.  As usual, Peeta isn’t too far from my thoughts.  I fretted over Peeta for the longest time until I decided to accept the inevitable and adapt to the new situation.  I can’t say that I’ve been very successful.  As much as I might tell myself that it’s time to move on, there remains a corner of my heart where hope refuses to budge.  The wedding looms ever closer and there’s no sign that either Peeta or Lace will change their mind.   In fact, they seem more lovey-dovey than ever.  She’s back to licking ice-cream off his face.  I had the misfortune to catch her at it as I passed by the ice-cream parlor a few days ago.  It’s positively sickening.  Johanna agrees with me.  Overkill, she called it.  But apparently not as cringe-worthy as the way Peeta and I used to act.   I did take umbrage at this.  But I managed to hold my tongue.  Johanna has become something of an ally of mine in the Lace affair and I don’t want to ruin it.  I need all the allies I can get.   Johanna arrived in 12 a few days after Marcus. It was toss-up between mine or Peeta’s house where she stayed – Haymitch’s house was never seriously considered.   I wasn’t at home when she turned up unexpectedly at the Victor’s Village, suitcase in hand.  But Peeta was.  So she’s staying at his house.  In the guestroom.   I almost choked on my cheese bun when I heard. What happened to being a good boyfriend? Why is she allowed to spend full nights in his house, when I can’t even sleep there for just a few hours when the nightmares get too much? 

I was sure my hurt and indignation must have shown, but Johanna didn’t appear to notice anything untoward.  Maybe it’s because she was too busy licking the grease from the buns off her fingers, or she just thinks it’s my habitual expression.   Between sips of tea, she filled me in on her adventures as an environmental activist.  That’s a job title Johanna’s given herself.  I knew something about it already.  I had recently seen her on TV chained naked to a tree as part of a protest. Johanna got involved when Marcus came her district to call for the cessation of unauthorized logging in the forested areas of 7 and to declare it protected as a national park.  And Johanna, aimless and looking for something to do, seized upon it as a cause worthy of her time and effort.  She became one of Marcus’s most enthusiastic supporters, organizing protest rallies and demonstrations.  I could see why this combination of resisting authority and civil disobedience would appeal to Johanna.  And it made her quite the celebrity in 7 in a way that’s totally unconnected to the Games.  Most people in 7 were hostile towards the logging companies, who exploited their workers by paying them poorly and making them work long hours in unsafe conditions. No one wanted to see the industry taken to task and regulated more than they.   “Is that what brings you to 12?” I asked. “If you’re here to do the same, I think you’ll find that there’s little for you to do.  There are no big companies to fight, and most people are OK with a national park. After all, there’s no advantage in taking what you want from the woods, if everyone is doing it.  Soon there’s nothing left.  And Marcus has the approval and assistance of the local council too.  That’s how I came to be working with him.” Johanna simply shrugged.  “That’s OK.  I sort of knew that, but I’d thought I’d come anyway just in case Marcus did need my help.   And since my work is done in 7, I figured I might as well travel a bit and catch up with old friends.” She’s bored, I thought.  And lonely. But then something else occurred to me. “Are you interested in Marcus?” “What?” she exclaimed, in genuine surprise. “No!  Of course not.  I mean he’s attractive enough, but he’s not my type at all.  Far too earnest.  And he has a one-track mind.  It’s all about saving the forests with him.  Didn’t even blink when I stripped off in front of him.” “Oh,” I said, momentarily without words. Johanna is used to getting a reaction. It must have come as quite a shock. “Maybe the sun was in his eyes, or something.” “Yeah, maybe.  Come to think of it, it was.”  Johanna reached for another cheese bun.  “So, there’s to be a wedding soon, I hear.  I just caught Peeta as he was about to dash out the door.  He was in a hurry to get into town so there wasn’t time to chat, but he mentioned something about having to finalize the menu for the wedding reception.” “Yes,” I said, trying to put off for as long as possible what I was sure was coming next.  “Peeta’s very particular when it comes to food.” Johanna turned to me with a quizzical look. “Funny.  I’d never have picked you for the big wedding type.  Peeta, maybe.” “Um, it’s not me Peeta’s marrying.  It’s someone else.” I turned my attention to pouring myself another cup of tea.  Anything to hide from Johanna’s startled reaction.   Of course, then I had to explain everything. And there was no sense in spinning some story about how I don’t care or that I’m happy that Peeta is marrying another. Johanna has the best bullshit detector of anyone I know.  And she was with us in the Quell, saw how Peeta’s hijacking affected me.  She knows I was far from indifferent about him.   “Wow,” said Johanna, after I finished. “The evil-mutt version of himself must still be in there.  Except it wants to destroy your soul instead of your body.” “I don’t think it’s quite like that,” I said. “But something is holding him back. Maybe they put some delayed programming into his head.  Something that erased the memories he gained and made him fearful of getting them back. I don’t know.  Dr Aurelius doesn’t tell me anything.” “Are you still in love him?” asked Johanna, peering at me intently. “Yes,” I said eventually.   “But something’s been lost.” “Innocence,” said Johanna, nodding sagely. “And trust.  Well, if you want him back, I’ll help you.  I know if I were in Peeta’s shoes, and I was about to rush into marriage with a half-cracked brain, I’d want someone to stop me.  You in?” I hesitated.  It’s not that I don’t want Peeta, it’s that I’m certain that Peeta doesn’t want me.  And half-cracked brain or not, he’s happy and I don’t want to ruin that.  Anyway, my attempts at interference had just made him more confused than ever.   “In,” I said cautiously.  “But there’s conditions.  He’s not to know how I feel about him unless he specifically asks. We have to give Peeta credit for knowing his own heart, at least.  He wouldn’t be marrying Lace if he didn’t love her.  This has to be about helping Peeta find the person he was before the hijacking so he can make the best decisions for his future.  But if we see signs that we’re doing more harm than good, we back off.  Agreed?” “Agreed!” cried Johanna with almost unseemly gusto. Well, at least someone’s happy.  Johanna has herself a new project.  And then she laid out her ideas for what we should do.   Marcus and I eventually make it to the edge of the woods, where the electrified fence once stood.  It’s now a tangle of twisted wire, flattened into the ground by many feet.  No one seems afraid of predators anymore.  Indeed, most of the predators have retreated deeper into the forest as more humans invaded their territory and decimated their numbers with high powered weapons.   Marcus has plans to erect information boards here and transform the meadow into a picnic area.   I had to remind him that the meadow is also a burial ground and he has promised to respect that.  Maybe a memorial of some kind.   We haven’t spoken much since we stopped for lunch and I’ve decided that’s one of the things I like about him.  He enjoys nature as I do, keenly attune to the sights and sounds around him.  The only talk that’s welcome comes from the birds, or from the wind rustling through the trees.   We’ll part ways soon.  I’ll go home to my house in the Village, only a short distance away.  But he has a far longer trek to his hotel on the other side of town.  It’s not the most convenient location, even mid-week, as he likes to consult with me about future reconnoiters.   “You know, I have plenty of room at my house,” I say. “Why don’t you stay with me for the duration instead of the hotel? It would be more convenient for both of us – closer to the woods for you, and we could plan our walks without having to meet somewhere.” It takes a split second for Marcus to make up his mind.   A couple of hours later, he had retrieved his gear from the hotel and he’s now comfortably installed in my house.  In the guestroom.