#claudius templesmith

[hammah-banana]

Caesar Flickerman: I’ll wager he loses an eye.

Claudius Templesmith: Haha! On the contrary, I predict that act one, scene one will conclude with the loss of a gallbladder.

Caesar Flickerman: Or perhaps a leg. What say you, young Peeta?

Peeta Mellark: Oh god.

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

The fact that Stanley Tucci and Toby Jones played Erskine and Zola respectively in TFA in 2011 and then played Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith in The Hunger Games the following year is endlessly funny to me and I can't explain why

[amidst-wonderland]

to this day i still find it hilarious that of all people to duo-present the hunger games in the film franchise, it’s the scientists behind captain america and the winter soldier in the mcu. like of all duos, it’s erskine and zola.

[heavensbeehall]

"The Hunger Games", Chapter 12

Buy the book here.

Part 2: The Games

Chapter 12. Katniss pretends to know what is going on (this is a theme of the entire books). Peeta makes a human kill and Katniss makes a rabbit kill. Exciting details about dehydration. Katniss finds water, and then fire.

My Thoughts

In this chapter we see how Katniss's constant suspicion about people's motivations pay off, kind of. She understands WHY Haymitch isn't sending her water even though she needs it, because she always questions why someone would give her something and what it might mean she owed later. It becomes her and Haymitch's special bond, that isn't shared with Peeta. I think the point of this chapter is to establish that understanding they have, because otherwise the plot is not advanced much more and this pond she finds never comes back.

So I guess this is a Haymitch and Katniss chapter, even though he's not physically present. Though I can imagine him watching the feed and muttering irritably.

And that led me to my question, do you think the mentors are on screen during the Hunger Games? We never see Haymitch be in the movies (just BTS negotiating with sponsors), but in TBOSAS, the mentors are made available for comment. It seems like he should at least be brought on to talk to Claudius Templesmith from time to time. Though I suspect they have a live feed of him, just because that would be the most tortuous for the mentors--and they can show the mentors (like parents in the stand at their kid's Olympic debut) when their tributes get killed.

Does it make me awful to want to see what the Capitol saw during these games? I want to know what Finnick, Joanna, Chaff and all my other loves said about Katniss and Peeta on live TV. (Obviously Mags didn't comment because she had her stroke and what if she only pretended to have a stroke so she could avoid commenting on stuff? That'd be hilarious.)

Quotes:

Maybe he’s sending you a message, it says. A message. Saying what? Then I know. There’s only one good reason Haymitch could be withholding water from me. Because he knows I’ve almost found it.

[wingardivm-leviohsa]

not gonna lie the love is blind s4 reunion on netflix was filmed like the hunger games interviews (looking at you nick&vanessa lachey aka caesar flickerman&claudius templesmith)... i mean just the over polished wardrobes, those so called “interviews”, everybody “forgiving” eachother, the bullies showing themselves from their good sides...and don’t get me started with the intimate home videos of the married couples, it reminded me so much of katniss’ and peeta’s proposal film in catching fire.

also them trying to broadcast it “life” (i mean it didn’t work out but nevertheless) so that they could show the contestants “true emotions”, in order to capture the audience and get them to root for the couple’s fairytale like relationships, while everything was way to over polished to be anything but real. kind of like emotional porn. netflix reality is just wild.

[enixamyram]

How could you translate Katniss' internal thoughts to screen?

If you become the screenwriter for the new adaptation, what would you do?

Are there any movies or tv series which have good example of this type of narration?

Thank you 😊

@curiousnonny

I actually think The Hunger Games is a perfect example for this. I've said before and I'll say again; I love the way they had Caesar and Claudius giving a commentary over the games, filling us in on details Katniss thought in the books, like what the tracker jackers were and what they did. And I also love how they showed what happened to her father through silent visuals. You got the whole picture through her nightmare hallucinations.

Those I think are the best and most clever ways to bring internal thoughts onto the screen. Having an inner monologue is fine, but a really creative way is to find ways around that. Either by someone else having reason to speak the gist of the thoughts, or showing rather than telling.

I think the showing rather than telling is my preferred example, just because it's not always easy to do so people who pull it off are very talented in my mind. Sometimes people don't understand what you're showing or it gets too confusing and you can't figure out where/when/what is happening.

But again, I think The Hunger Games handled this perfectly. I hope more films and series take their example and try to be a bit more creative with adapting the thoughts of their characters onto the big screen.

[moonmoonthecrabking]

"the sound of the trumpets startles me... it's my new best friend, claudius templesmith..."

i just think it's a little interesting that katniss would call claudius templesmith her best friend if she didn't care for him, if she only went to him out of obligation. sure, katniss is a sarcastic little shit, but i think there's an element of truth here with her being thankful to claudius for announcing that she can go home with peeta. because despite the trouble he's caused her, despite how much she feels they're both faking, she wants to be with him. not necessarily in a romantic way. but she just wants him to be there.

[dodgecarspeedracershotdogcart]

[chamaleonsoul]

[narrators voice] Welcome to Saturday Ashton Madness, the event where we observe An(n)as descent into madness over one very handsome Australian drummer.

[francesderwent]

Katniss says Thresh never showed any interest in Rue. but, it’s the Hunger Games. without Cinna and Haymitch to push them into it, who would ever show interest in the other tribute from their district? why buddy up to anyone at all, unless they give you an advantage? Thresh probably entered the arena and walked into the tall grass as fast and as far as he could, knowing that Rue would take to the trees, so that the chips could fall where they may, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to feel responsible for her. when he saw her image in the sky, he was probably grateful that it had happened out of sight by some other hand than his.

and then the voice of Claudius Templesmith announced that there could be two winners. if they were from the same district.

he could have protected her, if he hadn’t been so afraid of what that vulnerability would do to him. Thresh might have wept, then, for this new diabolical torture of the Games: to make him a monster, force him to leave a child to die, and then abruptly turn him human again, when it’s too late.

so he does the only thing left: he avenges Rue. and then he finds out that the most dangerous person in the arena did ally themselves with Rue. the person with the highest score in the Games gets choked up telling him that she sang Rue to sleep and covered her in flowers. that she loved Rue so well that his own home sent her bread.

is it any wonder he lets Katniss live?

[anatay004]

ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part six)

ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ

"DON'T BE SCARED," Dean's voice slid into your thoughts; breaking into your reverie as you visibly flinched. Instinctively, you looked up to meet his gaze, allowing his hand to squeeze your arm comfortably. "The fabric is light, not thermal," Your stylist revealed, referring to the wetsuit you were wearing, trying to dissipate the tension in the air. "So, I'm guessing tropic."

You swallowed hard, trying to take in his words. You were in the Launch Room in the arena, waiting for the countdown to begin as Dean finished braiding your hair down your back.

"And tropic means water," Dean acknowledged, offering you an encouraging smile as you slowly nodded. "You're good in water."

He was right — you were good in water, that's how you'd managed to win your first games. You remember it all too well; an earthquake breaking the dam, the flood in the arena, and you swimming for your life. You swallowed hard at the memory, trying to ignore the pain that tormented your chest. After all, you supposed Dean was right; having an arena close to home could be a great advantage to you and Finnick.

You exhaled sharply.

"Sixty seconds to launch."

You swept Dean a glance. He was looking back at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes — one you'd seen before, and you couldn't help, but reach for him. "Are you still beating on me?" You whispered in his embrace, and his arms immediately tightened around your frame.

"Always." He answered, a little strained.

And with that, he stepped back — wiped the tears in his eyes, and watched as the glass cylinder slid down around you. You watched him blow a kiss at you before you felt the plate underneath you moving upwards. The plan was simple in your head as you leaned against the glass: get to Finnick, get some weapons, and run the hell away from the blood bath.

Simple, simple, simple.

You eventually forced yourself to straighten up when the glass started to retreat, but you found yourself frozen in place when the arena stumbled into your line of vision. For a moment, you faltered as you took in the sight of water in every direction you turned. Only one clear thought formed in your brain as you took in the landscape: Snow was beating on you too.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!" The voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, suddenly broke into your reverie. And, instinctively, you searched for Finnick around, but panic quickly flitted across your features when you couldn't find him.

"He's on the other side of the Cornucopia," Peeta's voice slid into your thoughts, and your shoulders slumped in evident relief when you heard his words. "Don't lose focus."

Belatedly, you realized Peeta was standing on the plate next to yours. And he was watching you with concerned eyes, trying to quench down the panic that threatened to break you in front of the cameras, but you didn't notice. You were far too preoccupied with staying alive.

Eventually, you dived into the water.

Hence to your ability to swim, you were quick to reach the spoke of land that balanced your plate and Peeta's. But, to your surprise, you didn't run towards the Cornucopia right away like the others; instead, you found yourself looking back for Peeta. He was struggling to reach the land, so, you impulsively offered him a hand and pulled him out of the water. 

"Allies?" Peeta asked, trying to catch his breath as he climbed onto the land.

You didn't answer, but your silence was quite telling, and it took everything in you to ignore the smile that curved Peeta's lips, before sprinting towards the Cornucopia. Within a few minutes, you eventually reached it and immediately grabbed the closest weapon at hand — a trident. A satisfied smile twitched your lips as you balanced the weapon in your hand, but the moment was fleeting, before you knew it; Peeta was already back in the water fighting a tribute.

"Peeta!" You shouted and made to run in his direction when a steady hand dropped on your shoulder. Instinctively, you made to throw the trident, but another hand on your wrist stopped your movements altogether. "Oh." You breathed out, in sudden relief, when you realized it was just Finnick. "Are you okay?"

"Stay with Katniss, I'll get Peeta," Finnick commanded, dismissing your question, his voice powerful enough to make you obey him. In that moment, as Finnick dived effortlessly back into the water to help Peeta; you realized he'd made his alliances too. Katniss was close by, watching the scene with a horrified expression on her face. At the sight of her distress, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all an act like everyone else said. Or, if Mags was actually right, and there was something real about it?

You couldn't quite piece together an answer yet.

When the canon finally fired, your heart skipped for a moment, but relief quickly washed over you when you caught sight of Peeta's moving figure and Finnick pulling him back onto land.

The other tribute had died.

"You okay?" You eventually turned to ask Katniss, when Peeta was finally out of danger and you were both waiting for him and Finnick to come back. Katniss threw you a skeptical look, one that underlined you were not friends. "The baby, I mean."

Realization quickly dawned on her face, as if she'd suddenly remembered she was supposed to be pregnant. "Yeah, we're fine."

You nodded.

"Are you alright?" Peeta was quick to ask you, when he rushed back to the group, with Finnick strolling right behind him. The concerned tone in his voice caught you off guard, but you decided not to show it as Katniss watched you.

Carefully.

"Are you?" You asked instead, scrutinizing him for a moment; just to make sure he wasn't terribly hurt. To your surprise, he wasn't. "I barely even left you." You mumbled as you recalled he was running right behind you before he was even thrown back into the water.

"Don't." Peeta scoffed, a little faintly.

And you blinked in surprise.

"Hey," Peeta suddenly turned to Katniss, as if he'd suddenly remembered the cameras. "Are you okay?" He asked, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. You watched their interaction with curious eyes, unable to hide the perplexed expression on your face as you studied the scene.

"Yeah," Katniss replied, offering him a faint smile before turning to look at you. The weight of her gaze made your muscles tense; for a moment, you could've sworn she was throwing daggers at you. "We're okay."

The atmosphere suddenly grew thicker.

"We need to head to the jungle." Finnick suddenly spoke, breaking the tension, before sliding his free arm unexpectedly behind your waist. "We need water and a place to rest before night falls."

You nodded and made to move forward, but Finnick kept you in place; making sure Peeta walked past you first. "What?" Finnick asked innocently when you raised an eyebrow in silent question. "He can take the lead."

You opened your mouth to reply something along the lines of, " We should probably separate" but he muffled your words with his mouth— silencing you with a kiss.

"Come on," Finnick whispered against your lips, beckoning you to follow behind the group. You hesitated and lingered there for a moment before he lifted your chin to look at him. "Trust me."

You pressed your lips together and — for a split second, you thought back to the conversation with Haymitch you'd overheard from the previous night. Perhaps, this is what it was about, you thought, about this alliance with them. So, with that in mind, your grip tightened around the trident in your hand and you turned to follow Peeta and Katniss.

With Finnick right behind you.

Peeta took the lead, cutting through the patches of vegetation with his long knife as you walked through the jungle. Now and then, Katniss turned back to look at you and Finnick; as if she was almost expecting for you to attack them at any moment. You supposed you couldn't blame her for that.

You, yourself, didn't trust her either.

"God, it's hot," Peeta hissed, stopping suddenly on his track to catch his breath after a few miles. The jungle was hot and humid; you could feel your hair damp and plastered over your forehead from the sweat. Simultaneously, your lips were chapped and dry from the lack of hydration. "We need to find fresh water."

"You don't say." Finnick deadpanned, to which Peeta threw him a glare in response.

"What if we move to the other side?" You suggested, cleaning some of the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. "Maybe there's a spring or something."

"There isn't." Katniss limited herself to answer.

"How do you know — " You started, but the words quickly froze on the tip of your tongue when the cannon started to go off again; indicating more deaths.

"I guess we're not holding hands anymore," Finnick quipped, stifling a chuckle as he counted the number of times the cannon fired.

You counted three.

"You think that's funny?" Katniss hissed, throwing your husband a heated glare.

"Every time that cannon goes off, it's music to my ears," Finnick replied, matter-of-factly, before he added. "I don't care about any of them."

"Good to hear," Katniss scoffed, reaching her arm back to pull an arrow from her quiver. Instinctively, you aimed the end of your trident at her, but Finnick was quick to lower your weapon.

"You want to face the Career Pack alone?" Finnick questioned her, rather indifferent to her threat. His reaction took you aback; for some reason, he seemed certain she was not going to shoot him. "What would Haymitch say?"

You, on the other hand, were not.

"Haymitch isn't here."

You tilted the trident towards her direction again, but Peeta was the one to break the interaction this time. "Come on, let's keep moving." He said, beckoning Katniss to move along. And, from the corner of your eyes, you could've almost sworn he threw you an apologetic smile.

You watched them walk ahead of you for a few seconds without a word. She's going to kill us, you thought to yourself, as you watched the girl on fire with cautious eyes. And if she doesn't, she's certainly going to try to — at one point or another.

You nibbled your bottom lip pensively. Would this be a good time to separate? You wondered again, trying to think of a coherent plan. To turn the other way and let them face the Career Pack on their own? It's what Snow would want. But what about Peeta?

You paused, the question caught you off guard; as if you'd suddenly realized what you'd asked yourself subconsciously.

What about him?

"Put the trident down, baby," Finnick's words slid into your thoughts, and you blinked; belatedly realizing that you were still holding the trident up defensively. "They're harmless."

"You sound a little too sure about that," You questioned him, tilting your head suspiciously. "As if she didn't just threaten to shoot you."

"Just — " Finnick paused as if he were choosing his next words carefully. " — just trust me, love."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "I'm trying to."

Finnick's lips twitched, clearly dismissing the seriousness of the conversation. "You're gorgeous when you're mad."

"I'm not mad," You clarified, but the annoyance in your voice betrayed your words. "But if it has to come down to choosing, I'm choosing you."

Finnick looked at you for a moment, eyes softly lit with vulnerability. "I know."

You opened your mouth to say something else, but the sound of Katniss screaming quickly cut you off. In a split second, you watched as Peeta flung back from a force field he'd just hit, bringing you and Finnick down along with him.

"Peeta!" You screamed, rushing over to his motionless body, where Katniss was trying to shake him awake — with no luck.

"He's not breathing!" She yelled, almost frightened. "His heart's not beating!"

At the sight of this, you suddenly remembered something Mags had taught you a few years ago — when your dad had almost drowned once, and you didn't know how to bring him back. Instinctively, you pushed Katniss aside, ignoring the way she immediately reached for an arrow.

Finnick yelled something at you, something along the lines that he would do it, but there wasn't time. So, you pinched Peeta's nose and pressed your mouth over his to blow air into his lungs. You did this for a few minutes until a cough eventually slipped out his mouth and you leaned back to look at him in relief.

"Shit." You breathed out, subconsciously resting a hand over his chest as you watched his eyelids part. For a few seconds, he lay there on the ground, simply looking up at you as he slowly regained back his consciousness.

"Careful," He eventually mumbled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist harmlessly. "There's a force field up ahead."

A small laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks, I almost didn't notice."

Peeta smiled, despite the evident pain he was in, and you were just about to help him get back to his feet when Katniss slightly shoved you aside. You didn't mind, you supposed she was in the right too. But you could've sworn Peeta's grip tightened around you — for a split second as if he almost didn't want to let go.

You decided to dismiss it, thinking nothing of it as you made your way back to Finnick and Katniss pulled Peeta into an embrace.

One that made you look away — for some reason.

"I thought you wanted to separate." Finnick confronted you sometime later when you were both leaning against a tree, trying to catch some sleep before sunrise. Your head rested on his shoulder sluggishly as you watched Katniss take the first watch from a comfortable distance.

"What?" You returned, unable to hide the confusion in your voice as you looked up.

"You saved Peeta." Finnick suddenly pointed out, but his tone was hard to label. Was he angry? Unhappy? Nonchalant? You couldn't tell.

"You said they were harmless." You answered, throwing his words back at him. But he didn't answer, instead, he looked down to scrutinize your features carefully — as if he almost wanted to decipher something, but couldn't. "What?"

"You saved him twice."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "I didn't — "

" — During the blood bath, when he was pulled into the water, you were willing to jump back in to save him," Finnick interjected, and you supposed he wasn't entirely wrong. You did go back for Peeta, but only because you considered him a friend. Someone who would, strangely, do the same thing for you. Or, that's the first thing that came to your mind anyway.

"Where are you going with this?" You eventually asked, trying to read the emotions that flitted across Finnick's face, but — like always, there was nothing you could place a finger on.

"It's — just an observation." He simply said.

But you didn't like the tone of his voice, it made your skin pepper with goosebumps. If you didn't know any better, you were almost certain his tone was accusing. But of what exactly? You didn't know, he didn't elaborate any further.

"Mhm," You hummed, trying to move the conversation elsewhere. "I'm starting to get the impression you just want me to yourself."

Finnick stifled a chuckle, grasping onto the fact that you wanted to change the subject. "You? My gorgeous wife? I don't think so, no."

Your heart skipped at the word "wife". The truth was, you were still not used to it. And the word alone was enough to have your heart hammering against your chest. "Dork," You quipped, snapping your eyes to the side, but Finnick didn't miss the pink hues that tinged your skin.

"You're pretty when you blush." He teased, dissipating the tension in the air, as he curved the side of your face with the palm of his hand to make you turn to look at him again.

"I'm not blushing.” You argued, but it was a futile attempt when you felt the heat rolling up your cheeks. Naturally, Finnick pulled your face closer to his; until you could feel his breath pressing against your skin and there was barely a gap between you. Instinctively, your eyes dropped to his lips and he took the opportunity to brush them against yours.

"Sure you're not," Finnick whispered into your mouth before he allowed his tongue to sweep past your lips in a passionate kiss. As if he was almost needy; as if he almost needed to prove something. Whether it was to the cameras or himself, you weren't exactly sure, but you kissed him back — with equal fervor.

Until the sound of the arrival of a silver parachute broke you apart. For a moment, neither of you reached for it; allowing the item to land before you peacefully. After a few seconds, Katniss walked over to your spot and, subconsciously, your eyes traveled past her frame in search of Peeta.

"He's sleeping," Katniss informed you, just as Peeta's body stumbled into your line of vision. He was a few feet away, curled on the ground — sleeping almost peacefully. You nodded, trying to ignore the fact that she'd just read your subconscious thoughts.

"Whose is it?" Katniss eventually asked, eyeing the parachute on the ground with curiosity.

Finnick shrugged, pushing himself back to his feet. "I have no idea."

"Open it." You encouraged her, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes at you. "Or not."

Katniss sighed audibly, but she eventually took your advice and opened the parachute. Curiously, you peeked over to catch a glimpse of a metal object inside alongside a note. "It's a spile!" She informed you, to which you only blinked — dumbfounded. "It's to access water."

Relief washed over your features when Katniss took the metal object and hammered it into the green bark of a tree. For a few seconds, nothing happened as you stood there watching; until a stream of water eventually ran out. After Katniss, you rushed to hold your mouth under the tap, allowing the water to wet your parched tongue.

And, it wasn't until Katniss was waking up Peeta and Finnick's back were facing you when you finally decided to search for the note that was attached to the parachute. But a chill soon kissed down your spine when you took the parchment paper in your hands and read through the letters:

Remember why you're here for.

— S.

Finnick was sleeping next to you, his arm was wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. The jungle was quiet — too quiet to your liking, but you supposed you could appreciate the silence as you warred with the thoughts inside your head.

To say the note scared you was an understatement. You were terrified. Because Snow was watching each and every one of your moves; listening to every one of your words. Unsure of how everyone else would react, you fisted the note in your hand before anyone else could read it. And when anyone asked about it, you simply answered it was from Haymitch.

But, now that you were lying down and thinking about it — one thing was clear; Snow wasn’t content with your choice of alliances.

He didn’t approve of them.

How could he? If you and Finnick were both reaped for a purpose and one only: to kill the Mockingjay. To annihilate any chances of her winning, to win over her sponsors, and to make the fight seem fair. And, so far, Snow had done his part of the deal; he’d placed you and Finnick under the limelight, made you both the Capitol’s favorites and even incarcerated you inside an arena close to home.

With tridents, especially made for you.

So, now, it was time for you to do your part too.

You swept Katniss a look, then Peeta. They were both sleeping on the other side of the ground; just a few feet away from you.

One wrong move and everything could go wrong very quickly. For you — for Finnick, and the thought alone forced a sickening feeling to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. Because you didn’t want to kill Peeta or Katniss, as much as she managed to get under your skin.

But if it had to come down to that, would you do it? Was Katniss right in mistrusting you after all? Would you really kill her and Peeta?

You exhaled pensively as your eyes searched for Peeta again — almost subconsciously. The mere sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took made your heart skip. Would you be able to kill him? His soft features, the strands of blonde in his hair, and his kind heart.

No, you thought quietly, not Peeta.

And then, as the thoughts quietened inside your head, something in the distance caught your attention. For a moment, you watched as a wave of fog slid into the jungle. Instinctively, the hairs of your arms rose and you pushed up on one of your elbows to examine the scene a little closer.

Simultaneously, Katniss stirred awake and quietly turned her attention to the mysterious curtain of fog too. In a matter of seconds, you watched as she reached to touch it with the tips of her fingers — and a scream quickly erupted.

“Run!” She yelled in pain.

Finnick snapped awake instantly, pushing your body behind him; ready to encounter an enemy, but to his surprise, Katniss clarified. “It’s the fog! It’s poisonous! We have to run, Peeta!”

Katniss helped Peeta climb back to his feet as Finnick beckoned you to run. For a few minutes, everyone sprinted, but the curtain of gas was expanding in every direction you turned. And it didn’t help that Peeta was tripping over everything on the ground either — he was weak, you could tell, perhaps it was the aftereffects of hitting the force field. So, without thinking, you gripped his arms securely and pulled him forward.

“Come on!” You encouraged, but your eyebrows jumped when he pulled his arm back. You opened your mouth to berate him — tell him there wasn’t time for this, when he intertwined his fingers with yours instead. Amidst the circumstances, you didn’t have time to coherent a reaction or a reason to let go.

Droplets soon sprung free of the vapor and landed on your bodies. You hissed in pain, it burned your skin searingly — like a chemical. After a few minutes, Peeta eventually fell to the ground and, despite your and Katniss’ efforts to pull back to his feet, his legs gave up.

“I’ll have to carry him.” Finnick eventually sighed, when there was a good distance between the fog and your group, and Katniss nodded.

For about a mile, you watched as Finnick carried Peeta on his back until he eventually collapsed on the ground too. You rushed to him, but the pain that seared your skin was equally as defeating, and, along with Katniss, you hit the ground almost instantly. But Finnick mumbled something under his breath, something along the lines of “go to the water” when you belatedly realized you were just a few feet away from the water that surrounded the Cornucopia.

After a few tries, however, you eventually faltered and turned to face the curtain of fog. But the chemical didn’t suffocate you as you’d expected. Unlike, it grew thicker and condensed as it suddenly pressed against a force field.

After a few minutes, it eventually went away.

“It’s gone,” Katniss murmured, but her voice was strangled and barely audible. “The fog.”

Your body was still twitching when you heard a wail slip out of Katniss’ mouth from somewhere close. Then you heard Peeta’s and then you heard Finnick’s. You tried to part your eyes when you eventually felt someone slide his hands under your armpits, but you couldn’t even do that. Naturally, you hissed in pain, but the action was abruptly interrupted by another pair of hands on you.

“I’ll do it.”

“I already got her.”

“Peeta.” The voice, you later recognized as Finnick’s, was dangerously low — as if he was suddenly speaking through his teeth.

Giving out a warning.

The only thing you could remember after that was your skin being torched. As Finnick pulled you into the water, a heart-wrenching scream ripped out your lips; as if you had suddenly been thrown into an open flame.

“I know, baby,” Finnick cooed, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “I know…”

After a bit, the blisters in your skin slunk back into your flesh and disappeared along with the pain. “Motherfuckers,” You cursed, falling back against your husband’s chest in evident exhaustion. “I’ve never run that much before.”

Finnick laughed, incredulous at your sense of humor. “You and me both.”

You didn’t say much after that, instead, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fleeting moment of peace in Finnick’s arms. But the moment didn’t last for long when you began to wonder if maybe— just maybe, this was a warning from President Snow.

And you needed to do your part of the deal soon.

Author’s Note

I’m back after a horrible writersblock! It took me so long to write this, I’m sorry, besties, but don’t worry, I have the rest of the chapters planned already. Anyways, I would really appreciate you guys could interact with the story! Lately, I don’t have that much motivation and reading you guys thoughts and comments on my inbox helps so much!

With that being said, I left some Peeta content for those of you who are #teamPeeta. Enjoy!

@serrendiipty @avoxrising@queerqueenlynn

@darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts@stayc-a-I-m

@chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425

@leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-

tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake

@syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-

blog@meikoo@mozz-are-lla

@nomorespahgetti

@aestheticOcherryblossom

[atelierlili]

Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms into the arena. “Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked.Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed,” he says. “Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Reimaging the rule change scene from the first Hunger Games book, but in a visual novel/video game style.

Vanillaware’s 2d storybook-like art style in their games has always been a large influence on me as an artist, so I thought it’d be fun to merge my two favourite things together. It was very fun, but also very challenging 😭

[archeryn]

Just Kat, You and Rue.

Basically like what if you, Katniss and Rue won because we need Rue alive guys

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈

✧ Before Marvel could throw/stab a spear at captured Rue, you come in and fight with him

✧ Things started getting bloody, but Katniss arrives and manages to shoot Marvel

✧ You both untie Rue (yay) and they tend to your booboos

✧ Then Claudius Templesmith makes the 2 winners from same district announcement. So that means either you and Katniss (district 12), Rue and Thresh (District 11), or Clove and Cato (District 2) could win.

✧ They call up a feast. You and Katniss decide to go while Rue stays safe in the cave.

✧ Katniss gets attacked by Clove but you come rescue her using your weapon, and you guys are chill with Thresh because he knows you're taking care of Rue. We chill like that.

✧ Unfortunately, Thresh does kill Clove in an encounter, and then he dies from the mutts. Then Foxface dies from nightlock you accidentally collected.

✧ You, Katniss and Rue seek higher ground on the cornucopia roof and so does Cato.

✧ He threatens Katniss by strangling you up with him, saying if she shoots him, you're coming down with him.

✧ You gesture Katniss to shoot his hand and it worked—he fell into the pool of mutations. Then Katniss kills him out of mercy.

✧ Since Rue is not from you and Katniss's district, Katniss pulls up the nightlock and explains if Rue isn't coming with them, nobody is going to win.

✧ And it worked. You 3 have been declared as winners. Though some people didn't like it because it was "too many victors" and "favoritism."

✧ The interviews, then the sad ride back to the districts. You and Katniss say your goodbyes to Rue before boarding the train.

✧ No worries, Rue visits you and Katniss every 2 weeks on Saturdays, and you two visit her the other 2 weeks on Fridays, basically seeing each other every week.

✧ Lmao you and Katniss are like the parents to little Rue

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈

GUYS MY BSF (KNOWS I LIKE KATNISS) AS A JOKE JUST GIVING ME NOTES AND STUFF ABOUT ME DOING SMTH NAUGHTY NAUGHTY WITH KATNISS?? AND IT'S 💀💀

made me giggle (in a bad way) so much in class bro I'm CRYING

Ty for checking out <33

(i need sleep not really wait yes no i probably should but i can't URGHHH no not yet but i want to)

[cloverskentwells]

ficlet: inspired by this scene from the show never have i ever

when the rule change is announced, shortly after the hunt for katniss draws a dead end and the two cannons in quick succession of each other combined with the fact that marvel never met up with them announce the very probable fact that he's dead, cato and clove are left facing one another, shocked into stillness by the news. their weapons lie discarded at their sides, gathering dirt and whatever else is lying under the arena's soil to add little dark specks among the blood. the resounding silence echoes around them in a stark contrast from claudius templesmith's booming voice that had swept the arena just seconds before.

clove recovers first - out of the two of them, she'd always considered herself the faster one - and shrinks back into a persona she's comfortable with, her default shell of biting sarcasm and scathing sharp wit wrapping around her comfortably like a blanket to a newborn. "so it looks like we're the only two left," she mutters slowly, more to herself than for cato's benefit. "and we're in the finals, apparently." cato grunts in confirmation.

"it's awesome that you made it this far," he says slowly, and she can visibly see him regaining his wits in real time, the transformation obvious in the unsubtle changes of his facial expressions - unlike her, he had no practice in carefully controlling and mastering what he allowed his face to reveal. clove observes his recovery and takes note of his surprise, which is followed by slow acceptance, and then followed by the dawning of a reality she'd accepted several seconds before him.

naturally, his irritating habit of finding every opportunity to provoke her returns with his recovered senses. it doesn't take long for him to become his typically insufferable self. gathering his weapons and approaching her with the cocky smirk she'd come to associate him with, cato continues his jab. "we'll see how it goes, clover." his large hand settles companionably on her shoulder in a friendly gesture clove decides not to punish. she also doesn't bother to protest at the term of endearment - better cato, anyways, who says it with some modicum of grudging respect and admiration, then marvel (an ally she did not at all "dearly miss") who liked to relentlessly tease her and imply that there was something going on between her and her district partner that existed under the surface of their mutual antagonism and vicious barbed-wire threats.

clove watches him walk away, probably back towards their campsite (because of course he just assumes she'll blindly follow along like he's still the leader of a pack that's mostly dead - or close to it, in peeta's case), incredulously. "what the fuck do you mean by - cato, i'm telling you 'how it'll go' right now!" in a rare moment of weakness that she isn't proud of, she hastily stumbles after him so they can walk side by side as she gets the last word. normally, clove prides herself in not putting that much effort to win a verbal battle against someone, always ready with a cutting remark, but this time he's gotten the better of her.

cato's amused chuckles only agitate her further. "it'll go bad for you! and good for me! because i'm the better tribute and we both know it, you blonde oaf!"

he comes to a stop beside her to laugh, almost hysterically. and clove can't blame him, she can only blame herself for her lame attempt to sass him.

but because she was never one for self awareness, she blames everything but her own behavior. so many factors were responsible. the stupid rule change that meant they were inextricably tied to one another, cato for making it difficult for her to contemplate a reality without his hubris and deep chuckles and strength complementing her own as they fought side by side. cato for being her only tie to home and weakening her so badly she'd begun to consider him a friend. a friend, of all things, when he was supposed to be just some competitive asshole with an ego she could easily check with a well aimed blade at a lethal area.

because he felt the need to worsen her current feeling of indignity, cato smiles down at her - fondly, with crinkling and affectionate eyes as if he has grown to enjoy her presence. like an insane person. "fine, but we can go home together now, you know."

"stop that. we're still enemies. it doesnt change anything, and you know it." she feels the need to regain distance, and fast. hide whatever is the reason for this weird sense of gratitude that claudius templesmith's announcement had drawn out of clove.

"yeah, no shit, i can't stand you," he agrees, although clove doubts his sincerity based on the impish smile he's not working too hard to cover. cato watches her glaring back at him with his arms crossed in an obvious attempt to flex, leaning casually against a tree like he's some unreasonably handsome capitol model endorsing a weird makeup product, as always too confident and assured in his sense of righteousness.

it's a fight she has no chance of winning. with a huff, clove opts to ignore him, resuming the trek to their campsite and keeping him at her back where she doesn't have to deal with visual evidence of his presence.

he laughs lightly behind her, obviously amused by her failure to one-up him. her lips twitch upwards responsively in an exasperated smile that she forcibly suppresses.

[heavensbeehall]

What do you do? Are you running for the supplies or not?

[mollywog]

Apparently I’m deep in my HS feels (don’t ask me why, I didn’t particularly enjoy it while it was happening.) Ao3 link

There’s something special about high school football. Not the games themselves, it’s been decades since District 12 was a real contender. Their biggest rivalry is the neighboring school, and even that has 50/50 odds of Victory. Still, Friday night games are a right of passage.

The sun sets early but the lights are bright. The temperature drops and the whole town bundles up against the fall chill and flocks to the stadium. The concession stand sells hot chocolate and orange cheese drenched chips and fries, that warmth hands and burn tongues. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, as old as the sport itself, bicker over the intercom, drowned out only by the band who plays and replays the same dozen riffs from their perch in the stands.

Peeta and his friends station themselves at the 20 yard line, keeping track of the game while scoping out the passersby. Delly and a handful of her friends are the latest momentary additions to his group, checking in between completing social laps of the field.

He looks into the bleachers and spots an unexpected face in the first row. Her brow furrowed, she sits next to Gale Hawthorne, his motions animated as he gestures at the field and she nods along. As if feeling his stare, she shifts her gaze and their eyes briefly meet before flitting away. He turns back to his friends to find Delly watching him with a knowing smile: it’s not the first time she’s caught him pining over Katniss Everdeen and it won’t be the last.

Robin, a girl he knows vaguely from the next town over, slides up beside him and begins in on the monotonous Senior year questionnaire; his plans for next year, where he’ll go, what he’ll study, will he continue to wrestle? He recites his trite responses dutifully. He hates it. His favorite part of these nights is living completely in the smell of turf and the sound of his friends' laughter, not worrying about what’s next. He thinks about childhood when there wasn’t a script, only questions about favorite colors or dinosaurs. He considers asking Robin her thoughts on the dilapasaur but thinks better of it; he’s not afraid of sounding dorky, but doesn’t want to risk inadvertently encouraging her. As they speak, she gets closer, turning herself towards him, closing them off, batting her eyes, tittering, touching his arm. He knows the game, but has no intentions of playing, so he maintains his distance, answers politely, and tries to include others in his responses.

He looks up in the stands again, spotting Katniss easily now that he knows where to find her. She’s hunched over, elbows on her knees, glaring at the field. The game must be unpleasant -that’s not a surprise.

His inattentiveness does not go unnoticed and Robin eventually turns her queries towards Reese, a more receptive companion.

He lets out a small sigh of relief at his reprieve, but this time when he glances back into the stands, Katniss is no longer there. He excuses himself from the group and heads toward the bathrooms, at the last minute slipping under the bleachers instead. They get a bad rep, but he’s never actually seen anyone doing drugs, or murdering, or having sex down here. It’s actually kind of nice. The people above dampen the sound from the intercom and the lights are obscured to just the right level. He moves to the furthest corner behind a cement piling, out of sight of other bleacher dwellers. Down here alone, it’s like his own private den.

He’s watching the field through the slats of the stands when small arms encircle his waist from behind. For a moment he stiffens before the scent of Katniss’s piney shampoo invades his nostrils, he relaxes into her embrace, “You found me.” He’d hoped she would.

“You’re easy prey. Didn’t even try to cover your tracks. Almost as if you wanted to be caught,” she says, nuzzling her face between his shoulder blades.

He turns, shifting them so they're facing each other, “So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes, but yanks at the front of his sweater. He bends to meet her. The novelty of kissing her still hasn’t worn off; he hopes it never will. After a minute, he pulls away, “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Are you disappointed?” She scowls up at him.

“Not even a little,” he leans down to kiss the crease between her eyes. Unbidden, his mind wanders to the handsome boy beside her in the stands, “What changed your mind?”

“Prim wanted to come and I thought I should keep an eye on her. I’ve heard what happens at these games.” She pinches his waist playfully, “About boys who lure girls under the bleachers for a bit of debauchery.”

“So did you come down here to look for Prim or was my charm too much temptation to resist?”

She slides her hands into his back pockets and gives a little shrug, averting her eyes, “were you looking to lure me?”

He can see through her playful facade, her question’s in earnest. They’d discussed keeping things between them quiet for a while. In truth he would have agreed to just about anything to not scare her away. But he knew as long as they were a secret, this thing that they had, whatever it was, had a shelf life. He thinks of Robin’s display and Katniss’s scowl. Maybe he isn’t the only one with insecurities.

He lifts her chin to look her in the eyes, “only you.” He kisses her again, briefly this time before pulling away, “what’s your favorite color?”

She laughs, “what?”

“Your favorite color. I want to know.” He wants to know everything and not just her future plans.

“Green.”

Of course it is. Nothing could be more fitting for her.

“And yours?”

“Orange.”

She wrinkles her nose.

“It’s not whatever you’re thinking, more muted, like the sunset.”

She hums her approval before their lips meet again. He decides he can save his dinosaur questions for another day.