#me when haymitch from thg

[grcetxt]

"grrr i cant believe Suzanne Collins is writing a book on Haymitch instead of on Finnick!"

I CAN! I ABSOLUTELY CAN!!!! You wanna know why? Because Haymitch has more to tell. Like she said the book will be focusing on how propaganda plays such a big part in media. Remember how literally all of Haymitch's family were killed? How tf is the capitol gonna cover that up? It'll be interesting to see how the narrative gets flipped, because by HGs Haymitch is already the laughing stock of the captiol ('oh look at this silly drunk man! isnt he hilariously stupid!') like it will be SO interesting to see how he goes from this strong, confident kid- winner of the quarter quell, 2nd winner ever in district 11 (WITH NO MENTOR!!)- to the broken shell of a man we get in HGs

I saw someone get so mad that Finnick and Annie didn't get a happy ending. They went on and on about how Katniss was an unreliable narrator, and how Finnick was probably still alive, and Suzanne had killed him off for no good reason and should just bring him back. like NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! Katniss is 100% an unreliable narrator, we're shown this so many times throughout the series- but dont use that to try and change the story. Yes, Finnick couldve been happy. Yes, it was unfair that he died. But guess what! thats the point! there are so many unnecessary casualties during war, so many deaths that couldve been avoided, that feel unfair. too many "gone too soon" to fucking count. If you can't see the point suzanne was making thats on you my guy!!

Its so clear these people dont actually care about THG as a series, and just want Finnick back bcs they fancy him. Like do not get me wrong he was a great character and I loved him, but being fr a book on him would just be a little dull. He was a career, his victory was expected. Do not get me wrong i would absolutely love a deep dive into his life AFTER the games. It would be brilliant to see the psychological effects on him. But thats not what these people want, they want another bloodbath, more eye-candy. (they are becoming the people of the captiol)

A person I saw was actually saying that Suzanne was WRONG about finnick being dead?? that he was actually alive and she was delusional?? like mate, fan fiction exists for a reason. dont tell the author of a world-famous best selling series how to write her world-famous best selling series!! she knows what shes doing, and always has, so hush!

[addisong]

There is absolutely no reason for a fictional characters that's mentioned barely at all to be one of my favorites, and yet there Maysilee Donner is

[letterstotheflre]

people hating gale and the carreers when they were just kids and a product of their environment breaks my heart

[grocerystoredean]

panem dash simulator

peeniss4everlark Follow

NOOOOOOOOOO

officialsenecacrane Follow

me when i lie

districtfun Follow

i heard from my uncle who works at hunger games that they're only pulling from everlark shippers when they do the quarter quell

gurlonfire

thats funny because when i was fucking your uncle last night he told me they're only pulling from bitchy district one stans

catohead69 Follow

we poppin the biggest bottles when cato wins

catohead69 Follow

theeclove Follow

okay but is anyone else pissed how the district 11 guy literally did favoritism for late districts or what

rues-song

the careers literally did an alliance r u fucking kidding me i hope u get reaped

theeclove

clearly SOMEBODY doesnt understand the strategy of the games

career-sweep Follow

PLEASE tag your hunger games spoilers. this is literally common sense the games have been going on for 74 years you should know better by now

#hunger games spoilers #SOOO pissed rn theres never been a live announcement and now i found out from fucking everlarks

maytheodds Follow

Yes I'm a 30 yr old hunger games watcher. I've been watching kids die since you were in diapers. You have NO idea the tragedies I've endured. Hunger games is escapism for many of us when I come home from a long day of logging the last thing I need is for some 13 yr old tribute dying in a high stakes competition that we ALL knew was high stakes starting a riot and destroying all the nations grain

corholeanussnow

lmao. get a load of this guy

girlalcoholic Follow

haymitch stans rise tf up

#yes girl get that salve #i would fuck that old man

cinnagirl3000 Follow

i wld nvr survive in thg fr baby im killing myself

#thnk goddddd im cap 😁 #i woulda stepped tf off that platform cinna its been an honor

caeserflickerwoman Follow

does anyone else think it was fucked that peeta invaded ceasar's space when he CLEARLY wasn't comfortable with being SNIFFED by a STRANGER

softgreenpillow

fuck you this is clearly so fucking capitol-centric no one in the capitol would ever be comfortable with any districtperson doing ANYTHING these days. it is capitol-boot-licking scum like you that holds the movement back. get BLOCKED idiot

butchjohanna Follow

Just something I've noticed I think we as a fandom have gotten WAY too comfortable using the phrase "get reaped" as an insult, when it's a very serious reality that many children live with and should not be taken this lightly. Some people online have had to put their names in more for necessities like bread or water and the absolute terror that grips a person waiting for their name to be called doesn't leave you even in adulthood. Please think before you speak

#many of you are not acting in a way that johanna would be proud of. get it together #reaping mention

starcrossedluvrs Follow

[vasilissadragomir]

one of the most heart-wrenching things about thg universe is that you feel the loss of who each character would be outside the circumstances of their birth almost as acutely as you feel the loss of the characters themselves.

sure, we know what lucy gray and her family would be doing in a different world; she’d be dancing and singing and making music which defines a cultural identity. but what about the others? would haymitch have been a hilarious, loving father with a family had he not been forced to survive 47 other children’s brutal deaths? would finnick have been a charismatic and beloved actor, bringing joy to immeasurable people on his own terms? would beetee and wiress have worked together to develop technology to make it easier to connect loved ones far and wide? what would reaper and annie have given to the world, or thresh, or rue, or even coral or cato or glimmer or clove?

if katniss wasn’t half-starving and forced to spend each day hunting to feed her family, would archery be her true passion? or if she’d been a well-sustained little girl with access to art supplies, would she have spent her time sketching captivating dresses? she picks up ropes and making fish hooks quickly—could her dexterity have lent itself to knitting, sewing, or crocheting with vibrant yarns and fabrics? there’s so much evidence that katniss finds clothing inspiring and empowering, even when she dismisses it as frivolous. she likes being pretty, she just hates the circumstances under which she’s made to look pretty. cinna shows her that beauty has its own power, and there are several moments in her interactions with cinna and his designs that make me wonder who she’d be if she had space for art and creativity in her life.

conversely, peeta has had art in his life since he was a small child, but for him, art has always been entangled with his trauma. he could bake and decorate well because he learned from his mother, a mother who beat him his whole life. but his talent grows, not only as a survival tool in the first games, but when he paints rue on the floor of the training center before the second games. his art becomes not only a symbol of his trauma, but a means of resistance and solidarity. in a world where peeta’s intrinsic kindness and loving heart had been nurtured and welcomed rather than abused, could he have been a painter, helping people find collective meaning in the simple realities of life?

could katniss and peeta have still found each other in another world, a world without the horrors they were raised with, and bonded over their love of art? could they have been each other’s muses?

maybe they find their way to share art, after the events of mockingjay, as part of their process of healing and falling in love with each other. when they’re finally safe and have been for a long time, maybe katniss fashions peeta an easel for him to paint in their living room. after months of watching him gaze out the window and paint the changing leaves, katniss takes to knitting on a rocking chair in the other corner of the living room to steady her restless hands. they work silently as the days go by, quietly exchanging the things they’ve made to give each other the reassurance and love neither could ever fully convey with words.

and maybe one day, when they learn there’s a baby on the way due in midwinter, katniss takes a page from peeta’s sketchpad and starts to plan a series of sweaters and hats and socks she can knit for the baby. and peeta goes to the little nursery upstairs and starts working on a mural, so the baby will have something beautiful to look at every day. they work together to design the perfect baby blanket for their child, to ensure they will always be wrapped in a layer of protection and love by their parents.

but even if they find creativity and beauty in their lives after the end of mockingjay, the art they make will simply never be what that art could have been had they not faced what they faced. art comes from suffering, yes, but the human condition has so much suffering as is, and we’d never know what kind of art they’d make if they hadn’t experienced trauma of a distinctly sadistic and inhuman nature. but maybe their children, raised in a better world with love and protection and safety and joy and creativity and expression, will be the ones to create the art peeta and katniss never could.

[itsajollyjester]

yessss that defo answers my questions! ur thoughts on compassion & community intertwined w rebellion definitely show up in ur art lol. something more specific i have been curious abt is ur version of the endings of each specific hunger games & ur characterization/portrayal of the victors at those points! if u have any more thoughts abt any of those characters or their games id love to hear.... im also very not neurotypical abt hunger games

For sure!! But this is a novel and a half so I apologize in advance (also most of this is from memory so anyone can correct me if I'm getting any details wrong)

((TW: For visual depictions of Blood, Gore, and Wounds))

I realized I'd seen barely any art showing what the victors would have looked like when they won their games. They were all just kids and I feel like it can be easy to forget that sometimes

For all of them, I made the background one of their main "weapons" but tried to make it look like its turning back on them instead since there are no victors as Haymitch said.

I'll try to explain them all more in depth individually going in the order I drew them:

Finnick Odair, 65th Games:

His main weapons were his trident and nets that he made with vines. His background is one of the nets ready to trap him.

Finnick was the youngest victor ever at only 14. I really really wanted to emphasize just how little that is. (Especially since we know exactly why the Capitol loved him from the start…) Once I actually drew him looking that little I had to step away for a bit because I made myself too sad…

Outside of just how horrific his age is as a concept, I tried to think about what circumstances would lead to him actually winning when surrounded by older tributes. I think he would have had to avoid any kind of fight he didn't have the upper hand in. We know that he got the most expensive sponsor gifts in the history of the games (a trident), so he probably got plenty of sponsors outside of that as well. Because of that I doubt he needed to go looking for supplies much if ever so it was easy to avoid people there. He was also probably in a career pack, despite his age, due to his training and his popularity, and they would have hunted other tributes down together much like the one we saw in the first book (safer in numbers). Once it was narrowing down and the pack broke is when I think he started catching people in nets. All of that is a long winded way of saying that's why, unlike the other victors I drew, I only show him with minor cuts and bruises.

Originally I was going to draw him with a kind of strained smile like he was acting for an audience from the start. But I decided I actually think its sadder if he believed he was popular because of his skill and strategy as a fighter and only learned the whole truth after he won and that's when he started acting more for the camera. Instead I gave him a more muted despair kind of look, like his world is crashing down. One of my favorite parts about the movies, mainly THG and ABOSAS, is when they give the career tributes at the end a moment of realization about what they've done, and I wanted to give Finnick his. I'm a person that believes Finnick had to have volunteered for his games. I think he would have legitimately believed in the propaganda the career districts were fed and had a bit of a (very middle school boy) ego about his abilities. (I was NOT expecting to write so much about his lmao)

Enobaria, 62nd Games

She's most well known for ripping someones throat out with her teeth. (Her background is her sharpened teeth getting ready to eat her.) This is treated by The Capitol, and by Katniss, as grotesque and terrifying blood lust (Which obviously the Capitol loves her for). However, and I'm not at all the first to say it, that sounds more like a terrified and desperate attempt to survive a fight she was losing and an example of hysterical strength. We know that Career packs have had bloody betrayals in the past and I can see Enobaria being a part of one of them. Enobaria doesn't have a canonical age, but I decided to put her on the younger side (15 or 16.) I can imagine some of the older, bigger tributes deciding she was the weakest link towards the end and that was the result. I tried to make the blood around her mouth and down her shirt look more faded, like she tried desperately to wipe it off (Also I had to step away from drawing again after I drew her little tooth gap)

I think she probably leaned into the bloodthirsty image afterwards as a way to protect herself and (maybe even started to believe it too)

Annie Cresta, 70th Games

Annie's known for losing her mind after seeing her district partner decapitated in front of her. After that, she ran off and hid until the game makers started an earth quake, which made the large dam in the arena break and cause a huge flood. Annie was the only survivor because she was the strongest swimmer. So I decided to make her background dark water that's churning up and over her head. I also think it can work well as a way to show her mental state in the moment (and afterwards) Annie is actually one of my favorite characters in the series and I've been writing out a plan for a possible comic series about her that'll go more in depth about my headcanons for her. (when I say comic series, I mean sketches and oneshots, not a full thing lmao) It wouldn't take place during her games (outside of a few flashbacks when I need more context), instead it would start at her Victory Tour and go into her first (and last) year as a mentor for the 71st Games. Which is a perfect segue to-

Johanna Mason, 71st Games

Johanna is actually first mentioned early on in the first book when Katniss is wondering if the reason Peeta is crying is because he plans to act weak and helpless as a strategy in the games. (Katniss, he just found out he has to fight in a murder tournament with his crush. He's just Sad.) She bases her theory on Johanna, who pretended she was a "sniveling, cowardly fool" in the arena until the final stretch of the games when she proved to be deadly with an axe.

OR….. Katniss is an unreliable narrator and Johanna was actually a terrified kid from a district with so few victors that she was the only name in the bowl for the Quarter Quell… This is totally just a personal headcanon of mine tho lol. I think there would have been a point in her games where she realized she actually had a chance and that's when she seemingly had a huge character turn around. Maybe there was a infighting with the careers that ended in multiple deaths and there was only a few left along with any other tributes hiding away like her. Maybe she poked around what was left of their camp, found the axe, and felt strength from her district.

Her background was a little harder for me. Just slapping a big axe behind her felt cheesy. But them I remembered her saying there was no one left that she loved. So instead I put trees that could represent her loved ones (Two fully grown trees, a younger "teenage" tree, and a sapling) that are in the process of being cut down.

Haymitch Abernathy, 50th Games

Don't worry, I'm almost done. I don't have as much to say about Haymitch since we know SO much about what happened in his games. But his background was probably the hardest for me. His main weapon was invisible after all. I thought maybe the axe that was used, but again, That would look cheesy. I tried (and kinda failed imo) to draw the cliff side the force field was on instead. But the main thing I did was split the three panels I had on the previous drawings into six for two reasons. 1: Because he had to face twice as many tributes in order to win and 2: Being the only victor of a district that's tributes are seen as fodder for the blood bath means he had to meet and watch the death of twice as many kids every year.

[7s3ven]

hello! ur writing is so fun and rahhhh i heart it. idk if ur taking cato reqs but i love him bro its an issue. anyhow, childhood friend!tribute!reader and him coming to terms with the fact that both of them cant win. could be platonic or romantic whatever u like<3

I’m literally in love with Cato.

( master list )

DANCING WITH UR GHOST. cato hadley

IN WHICH… Cato Hadley and Y/N L/N accept there can only be one winner. The Capitol watches as one falls and the other leaves the arena with a furious heart, never quite moving on.

Warnings : not proof-read, a little bit of angst, some gore (it’s the hunger games)

—

THG TAG LIST : No one rn 💀

—

It was a hot and sunny day when the Capitol chose to announce the tributes. Small beads of sweat rolled down Y/N’s forehead as she clasped her hands behind her back. The sun was relentlessly beating down on the large group of teenagers crowded in front of the stage, organised by age and all eagerly waiting.

Y/N wasn’t like the rest of her District. She had seen how the effects of the Hunger Games weighed down on the tributes. Haymitch had turned to drinking after the slaughter of his family. Y/N couldn’t imagine returning home to see the people you held dear gruesomely bloodied on the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cato. He stood out from the boys, being one of the tallest and towering over them. He had his jaw clenched and he was impatiently tapping his foot, waiting until he could leap onto the stage.

His head turned and they locked eyes. Y/N was the first to break into an amused smile and he returned it, his pale lips curving upwards.

Y/N paid no attention to the video playing on the screen in front of her. They showed it every year and she had practically memorised the voice lines by now. Her mind flashed back to yesterday, the day where Cato had suggested the unthinkable.

“What if we run away?” He questioned, making Y/N pause. She grasped the handle of her ax tightly as she spun around to face her childhood friend.

“What?” She needed to make sure that she had heard him right. It’s not like Y/N hadn’t thought of it before but for Cato Hadley of all people to ask was outrageous. He was Two’s greatest candidate. They were all counting on him.

“You heard me. What if we ran away? Away from all this and away from the games? I wouldn’t have to worry about being a peacekeeper. We could do it, you and me.”

Y/N has full faith in her axe skills and Cato’s strength but the idea was almost too crazy to pull off. She shook her head, “They’d find us.” She whispered. Y/N was glad nobody else was in the gym because this could be considered treason.

Y/N subtly shook her head. If only leaving District Two was that easy. They would surely notice if their strongest candidate and his axe-throwing friend went missing.

Her attention was caught by the lady, Kikoro, walking towards the microphone in a hideously bright yellow skirt. Beside her, Y/N heard Clove laugh.

Clove was a good friend of Cato’s and by default she was a friend of Y/N’s too. She was shorter than both of them but that didn’t stop her from snapping at people left and right. Her skills with throwing knives were amazing and Y/N often felt a little jealous. Surely the knives were lighter compared to lugging around a wooden stick with a blade attached to it.

“Now, I must warn you, there’s a new little rule. No volunteering this year.” Kikoro uttered into the microphone, her lips covered in yellow lipstick curling into an unsettling smile. She ignored the disappointed jeers from the teenagers as she reached into the first bowl. “Ladies first. It’s only polite.”

Everybody watched with bated breath as Kikoro unfolded the piece of paper painfully slow. Clove was practically shaking with excitement.

Kiroko cleared her throat before she leaned forward, glancing at the crumbled paper. “Y/N L/N.” She said.

Y/N clicked her tongue, thinking it was all a sick joke. She wasn’t scared shitless like the tributes in the paper districts were but she was disappointed. Why her and not somebody who actually wanted to compete?

Y/N begrudgingly stepped onto stage after being dragged by a peacekeeper. “Let go of me.” She hissed, yanking her arm out of the man’s grip.

“What’s your name, dear?” Kiroko asked, gesturing Y/N to step forward to the microphone. The H/C-nette stared at the Capitol citizen in confusion.

“You just said my name… Y/N L/N.”

Kikoro paused before she burst into a fit of light laughter. “Ah, sorry dear. I’m so used to volunteers. Next up, the boys.”

Y/N hoped her District partner would be someone useful who she could discard later. Someone strong but not too strong as to overpower her.

As Y/N rocked back and forth on her heels, she glanced over at Kikoro who was now unfolding the second paper. She read text written in black ink before grasping the microphone.

Hearing her own name getting called didn’t frighten Y/N but as Kikoro declared the male tribute, her heart dropped so fast that she may as well collapsed. It was the one person she wished hadn’t been chosen.

“Cato Hadley.”

The train ride was silent. Enobaria had tried talking to the pair but they never replied. Eventually, she gave up and went to a different compartment.

“We should’ve run away.” Y/N quietly muttered, suddenly regretting not putting the absurd plan into action. Across from her, Cato chuckled.

“Yeah…” He paused, refusing to believe that this was really happening. That he’d have to kill his best friend if he wanted to survive. He was brought back to the harsh reality as the train bumped along the tracks.

“You should’ve played dead… or something.” Y/N stirred the spoon around in her cup of coffee, having no intentions of actually tasting the bitter drink. She licked her dry lips. “What happens if we’re the last ones left?”

Cato didn’t have the courage to answer. He pushed his food around with his fork for a few moments before finally lifting his head. “May the best win.” He uttered.

Y/N glanced out the window, staring at the tall buildings of the Capitol in the distance. She took a deep breath as the train quickly approached the large city and their impending doom.

The days in the Capitol were limited. And they passed by fast. One minute Y/N was standing in front of the dummy targets, skilfully throwing axes as their heads then the next she was in front of a crowd in a glittery gold gown.

“You’re a fan favourite, Y/N. How does that make you feel?” Caesar, with his crazy blue hair and matching suit, said as he widely grinned.

“I guess I’m just that charming.” Y/N smiled as she leaned back in her seat, gracefully crossing one leg over the other.

“Our time is almost up but may I ask the question that everyone has been wondering? What on earth is going on between you and Cato?”

The Capitol had caught wind of the small stolen glances and borderline flirtatious kisses on the knuckles. Y/N shifted in her seat as she recalled the event before this very interview.

“You look…” Cato entered the room, practically starstruck as Y/N stood on a small platform. “Wow.” She frowned as she adjusted the tight bodice of her dress.

“Really? Because right now, I can’t really breathe.” Y/N let out a small laugh but she felt her corset suffocate her lungs.

“Does this look like a face that would lie to you?” Cato grasped Y/N’s hands and helped her off the platform. “I mean it. You look stunning… almost makes me wish we were getting ready for a ball instead of this.” Cato’s face was so close. Y/N couldn’t help but let her eyes dart to his lips.

“You look handsome too.” She playfully grinned as she straightened Cato’s tie. “Blue suits you.”

“We’re just friends.” Y/N repeated that overused phrase while the Capitol citizens groaned in frustration. “I don’t know what you want me to admit… Cato is handsome but I can’t imagine dating someone I’ve known since childhood… his face is getting a little annoying.”

Y/N’s cheeky remark earned her a few laughs.

“If given the chance, I probably would’ve liked to kiss him once, you know?” Y/N’s confidence grew and she forgot all about how Cato could hear her words through the small screen in the waiting room. She folded her arms over her chest just as the timer buzzed.

“Y/N L/N, everybody!” Caesar declared.

She stepped off the stage and back into the shadows, away from the piercing lights. Glimmer and Marvel had already returned to their rooms and Y/N was about to do the same before Cato came into view.

She saw him wave enthusiastically at the crowd but his eyes were on her. She shrank back, suddenly aware of what she had said during the interview.

Y/N scurried off before Caesar could even ask Cato one question. She stormed into the room assigned to District Two. Enobaria was sitting on the couch, clicking the TV remote buttons.

“Need help getting out of that dress?” The sharp-toothed woman asked. Y/N silently nodded.

“Thank you.” Y/N said, finally able to breathe properly again. She would never take oxygen for granted again.

Y/N was only dressed in a black singlet and shorts when Cato burst through her personal room door. “What was that?” He demanded, slamming the door behind him. “If given the chance? I’m giving you the damn chance, Y/N!”

Y/N let out a squeak of surprise when he grabbed her face and pulled her forward, swiftly kissing her like he had been waiting to do so for years. With how his hands trailed down to tightly grip her waist, Y/N wouldn’t be surprised if Cato had been dreaming of this moment.

Cato pulled away, resting his forehead on Y/N’s. “How’s that for a given chance?”

The sun in the arena felt different. Its heat was blistering and Y/N felt her body burning up underneath her heavy jacket. She wanted to discard the warm piece of clothing but it would come in handy at night.

The Careers had already made their allies clear. Y/N glanced at Cato who was already staring at her as usual.

To Y/N’s left was Glimmer, who was impatiently tapping her foot as the countdown began. Y/N stared at the decreasing numbers until it reached five and she had no choice but to get ready to run.

This was no mere dream, it was a reality that Y/N wish she didn’t exist in, for Cato’s sake.

To no one’s surprise, Cato was the first to react as the countdown finished. He leaped off his podium, immediately making a run for a silver sword. Some tributes turned tail and ran but those who joined the mess in the middle were gruesomely stabbed by Cato.

Y/N grasped a pack of throwing knives, tossing the sharp objects at anything that moved. She managed to cut Katniss’ cheek and the ravenette was not pleased about that. The District Twelve girl shot an arrow Y/N’s way but she ducked and avoided it.

“Y/N, here!” Cato tossed a fancy looking axe her way. She easily caught it, swinging it at a foolish boy who thought he could beat her.

The bloodbath didn’t last long thanks to Cato. He either killed or drove off any of the remaining tributes. “I’m feeling pretty good about this.” He grinned down at Y/N as they waltzed around the Cornucopia. He twirled his heavy sword in his hand.

“You’re in a good mood.” Y/N muttered. The hunger for bloodshed had clouded Cato’s mind, causing him to forget that Y/N would have to die in order for him to emerge victorious. She said nothing about it, though, not wanting to spoil his cheerful mood.

“I’ll be in a better mood after this.” Cato chuckled to himself as he pecked Y/N’s lips. He held her close, burying his face in her neck.

Y/N stood still, awaiting the moment where they would be forced to turn on each other. Out of the pair, Y/N had always been the rational realist.

Glimmer was dead, filled with toxin after Katniss sabotaged the Careers’ camp.

Marvel was next. Katniss skewered him like a kebab with her arrow. He died on the forest floor, joining Glimmer in Katniss’ kill count.

And then there were two. Y/N had narrowly avoided being bashed in the head with a stone by Thresh. The side of her head was still bleeding, the crimson liquid staining the green grass below.

Y/N groaned as she collapsed beside Cato, leaning against the large tree trunk. “Who’s left?” She rasped. She had heard a canon go off but she had no idea who it was.

“The boy from Eleven, the pair from two, and us.” Cato replied, his shoulder brushing against Y/N’s. He pulled out a small tin bottle, handing it over to Y/N. She gratefully took a large gulp of cold water. “Don’t worry, we’ll get home.” He whispered, “You and me forever.” After Y/N’s near death experience, Cato realized that the Capitol had played him as a fool. But he was happy about the announcement that said two victors could win if they originated from the same District.

Y/N leaned her head on Cato’s shoulder and closed her eyes, deeply sighing. She didn’t know when she dozed off or how long she was asleep but she cracked open one eye to see Cato hurriedly shaking her.

Night time, the Careers’ prime time to hunt, had already past. When Y/N’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, she furrowed her eyebrows. She was in a cave yet she remembered falling asleep on the forest floor. And Cato was covered in bites and gruesome grazes and blood. So much blood.

“Cato…” Y/N breathed, quickly leaning forward, “What happened to you?”

“I killed Katniss and Peeta… and the mutts killed Thresh. It’s you and me left, Y/N.” His sounded sounded so weak and he sluggishly cupped her face, panting heavily. For once, he was covered in his own blood rather than the blood of his victims.

“You drugged me…” Y/N’s heart fell to her stomach as she realized what had happened. Cato had slipped sleeping pills into the water and while she was knocked out, he put her in a cave and went to hunt down the three other tributes. She furrowed her brows. “How could you? Cato… you could’ve died.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah… I know. That was kind of the point. While you were asleep, they revoked the two victors rule. There can only be one again.”

That was enough for tears to well up in Y/N’s eyes. “Don’t leave me… please.” She cried as she held Cato, her childhood friend and her first true crush. His blood stained her muddy clothes but she didn’t care. “Please…” She trailed off as Cato wheezed.

“The mutts did a good job on me.” He muttered, finding it harder to stay awake. Y/N’s eyes widened.

“No. Cato. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here!” She immediately noticed how his pulse slowed down. “Stay awake, Cato! I can fix this! Please.”

Y/N had already come to terms that there could only be one victor but she had yet to accept that fact that she had to lose Cato to walk out.

“You can’t give up now… we came this far. We can sort something out.” Y/N uttered as she shook Cato in a fruitless attempt to convince him.

“I love you, Y/N.” He grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I always have. Ever since we became friends. Ever since you were the first to find the courage to talk to me. I don’t know what I would have done with you.”

Y/N laughed as a sob bubbled up in her throat. “I love you too. If only your name wasn’t called. I could’ve won the games and come back to you.” She shakily sighed as she leaned down to kiss Cato’s cold lips. She placed her hand on his neck and when she felt no pulse, she pulled back in a panic.

“Cato?” She shook him once. Then again. “Cato?!” She repeated, this time louder. “No… no… no! Don’t leave me here! Cato!”

She screamed so loud that the sound echoed around the forest, scaring the birds and causing them to flee.

“Cato!”

Y/N walked out of the arena a free woman. Not quite since Snow would still have full control over her but she liked to think she was free to a certain extent.

The Capitol workers had tried to discard of the necklace she held so tightly in her left hand but she refused to let them take it away. It was the only remaining memory she had of Cato.

Anger swirled around in her heart like a monster, threatening to burst free and reign terror over anyone that came in contact with her.

Only now was Y/N realising why the victors never looked genuinely happy despite having everything they wanted. It was because Snow tore their deepest desires away, always holding it near but never within their reach.

Enobaria had wanted to be a mother.

Gloss wanted a peaceful life with his sister.

Cashmere wanted nothing more than to take care of the children in District One.

Brutus craved freedom from Snow’s cruel clutches.

And poor Y/N dreamt of becoming a bride but as she watched the light drift from Cato’s eyes, her wish was swept away with it.

Now, Snow had nothing to take away from her because the person she loved the most was already gone.

[triassictriserratops]

For the, like, five people who share in these two special interests: CRAZY EX GIRLFRIEND SONGS THAT ARE APPLICABLE TO THG-VERSE MY CONTRIBUTIONS You Stupid Bitch → Katniss to herself after meeting with Hijacked!Peeta after Annie and Finnick's wedding. It Was A Shit Show → Lucy Gray to Coriolanus Snow after All Of The Horrors. Oh My God I Think I Like You → Katniss on the beach with Peeta Let's Have Intercourse → Gale to Katniss when he's literally trying to make a move on her while simultaneously telling her all about his other sexual exploits. @dancing-on-tiptoes'S CONTRIBUTIONS I Go To The Zoo → Coriolanus visiting Lucy Gray. I Have Friends → Katniss realizing Madge was her friend. I'm The Villain In My Own Story → The realization that Snow SHOULD have had but refused to!!! What A Rush To Be A Bride → Katniss playing up the wedding planning to the adoring public. Research Me Obsessively → Katniss and Peeta waching the previous Victors' tapes before the Quarter Quell After Everything I've Done For You (That You Didn't Ask For) → Haymitch talking to Katniss about saving her from the Quell. Haymitch: After all the things I did for you!!!! Katniss: THAT I DIDN'T ASK FOR The Sexy Getting Ready Song → Capitol Makeovers Settle For Me → Gale. Just Gale. I'm In A Sexy French Depression → Katniss finding nap/dissociation spots in the bowels of District 13. Strip Away My Conscience → All those fic where Hijacked!Peeta FUCKS Fit Hot Guys Have Problems Too → PEETA BOB MELLARK Getting Bi → PEETA BISEXUAL MELLARK His Status Is... Preferred → Haymitch about Effie What U Missed While U Were Popular → Somehow this is Katniss picking Wiress and Beetee for allies. Etta Mae's Lament → MAKE PEETA SING THIS LIKE NATHANIEL DID. @vasilissadragomir'S CONTRIBUTION Period Sex → Post MJ when Katniss gets her cycle back.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Reap What You Sow

part one

You've been reaped, and your partner is not the man you want to be spending a bloodbath with. But what if he's nothing like what you expected?

a/n: for the anon that's waited SO patiently for it... im still working on figuring out ur identity but im a bit slow... so.... i hope u like it i had to reread the book for this and WEUIORWPDOSWEIOR i have trauma from thg trust me

tw: major character deaths (if you can guess who ily <3) mentions of blood, gore, illnesses, blah blah all that stuff yk

wc: 7.8k

part two here!!

legacy, what is a legacy?

planting seeds in a garden,

one you’ll never get to see.

Autumn always brought the whispering winds, a tapestry of gold and crimson spinning through the forest, leaves dancing down from their lofty trees, becoming carpets of color rustling with ease.

Everyone sleeps in late today, wanting to spend as much time huddled with their family before the threat looming over you finally comes back to bite you.

The air grows crisp, a bite of cool delight, as you trudge through the fresh foliage, feet shuffling through the leaves fluttering onto your hunting boots. The last thing you need is to scare away potential game with your loud footsteps.

In the woods is the one place where your facade can fall, where you can shout all your frustrations at the lake below you, calming down as you stare down at it, blurred by your dangling legs. The ledge has always been precariously unstable, but anything to kill time before the Reaping.

Leaning back on your palms, you glance up at the sun searing your face, burning through your dark tunics that help camouflage you during hunts. You can’t consider yourself a good hunter, but at least what you bring in keeps your family from starving.

You strip the nearby bushes of their leaves, their raspberries, the leaves that you had once cultivated with your mother when she was still around. Although it wasn’t allowed, you both made a habit of sneaking into the forest after all the Peacekeepers had finished their patrols to check on your garden. 

You never told her, but you could never resist plucking a few unripe berries from their steadily growing stems, now grown wild and untamed. The taste of the young, still growing fruit from your childhood still lingers in your mind, and over six years later, make it near impossible for you to enjoy the sweetness of the ripe raspberries now.

A melodious chirp breaks through your thoughts, and you twist over your shoulder to see a familiar mockingjay approaching. Its vibrant blue and gray feathers shimmer in the dappled sunlight as it hops closer, a curious glint in its round, beady eyes. With a gentle nudge, you offer it a ripe berry, watching as it eagerly pecks at the fruit, savoring the succulent juices with delicate precision.

“You’re chipper today, aren’t you?” you ask it, keeping your voice light. Just as you expect, the muttation tweets back in the same tone, as if repeating your words back to you.

Only, coming from such a free, unshackled spirit, it means nothing.

<><><><>

The nicer part of your district is in the area shadowed by the forest, where none of the residents dare to step foot into what they deem unsafe. If only they knew the danger of hunger.

You pass the bakery, catching the eye of the baker’s son, uninterested, casting shadows on his face as he glances down at his mother’s feet. Her shouts are audible through the thin glass showcasing the elegantly decorated cakes.

You don’t know the boy, but you feel pity for him. Not once in the years following your mother’s death has your father raised his voice at you. He has resigned to heavy sighs of disappointment, which sting more than angry words, you’ll admit.

You stand before the same house in the Victor’s Village, the nicest houses of the entire district, crammed into one courtyard. Most of the houses are empty due to there only being two Victors in the history of the Games; Haymitch Abernathy, a drunken man you don’t socialize with, and Leon’s older brother, whose name you aren’t bothered or inclined to learn.

You raise your hand to knock but pause, praying he doesn't answer, that he’s not home, and that his mother, a much kinder, forgiving woman, comes to the door. After an agonizing moment, the door creaks open and, just your luck, his imposing form fills the frame above.

The first thing you notice is the red, blaring welt resting calmly on his face. You faintly wonder what happened before realizing that you don’t care. Neither does he, apparently.

“Back to grovel, little bird?” he sneers. 

“Actually, maybe I’ll just head to Haymitch,” you reply, making a show of the flimsy basket holding multiple, freshly snared rabbits. “He might have a use for fresh meat.”

You don’t miss the way Leon immediately clears his throat, leaning against the doorframe. “I suppose we could make a deal.”

Eventually you’re satisfied with the amount of money in your hands, and Leon looks equally ravished as he nods to you politely before closing the door in your face. You catch his eyes darting to your lips just as it creaks shut fully.

Whatever’s wrong with him shouldn’t bother you, right?

So why does it?

<><><><>

Chris raises an eyebrow at the offering. You nudge it towards him, and a smile slowly spreads across his face, overtaking his expression.

“It’s taken quite a while, huh?” he teases.

“You know how much it means to me,” you cheese. “And I want you to have it, just in case…”

“You’re not getting reaped,” he says, as if he’s already predicted who will be safe, like he knows. “Your name isn’t even in there that many times.”

You nod, face warm. "Just in case."

His grin fades. "Don't say that. Your name is drawn just a few times."

"Still a chance," you mutter grimly. "24 slips is 24 too many."

Chris takes your hands in his. "Listen to me. I survived, didn't I? You're stronger than any tribute here. You'll come back and we'll hunt together, I promise it."

His steady gaze gives you strength. You force a smile. "Okay. And may the odds..."

Your hunting partner, close friend, embraces you. "The odds don't matter. You do. Stay strong - I'll see you after."

Of course, the odds seem to be planting themselves directly against you. But you don’t mention that as you walk to the square, shoulder to shoulder, trusting Chris enough to watch your siblings as your father makes low conversation with the other miners.

<><><><>

The odds definitely hate you.

When they call your name, no one moves. You can feel the girl next to you stiffen, as if sensing your breath cut short, hand brushing against yours as you weave your way through the perfectly aligned rows of sixteen year old kids, kids that you went to school with.

If it were any other reaping, you would’ve looked down at them with scorn, glaring at them with a scowl, because no one wants to die, but no one volunteered for you. But the Quarter Quell brings with it new surprises, one being that the tributes reaped may not be replaced.

You suppose you should be glad it isn’t one of your siblings, because where you stand a chance, they would die immediately. Admitting this to yourself is how you temper your own fate. On the other hand, the other twist the Quell brings is that if you die in the Games, guess who also suffers?

Your family is publicly executed. You wish a slow and painful death to whoever thought of that, to President Snow, for picking it. Watching the competitions every year was something you could never stomach, choosing instead to cower in the other room, hands planted against your ears to block out the sickening screams of the dying tributes on screen.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," Effie says with a grin far too jovial for the situation, and you know that its her job to encourage you, but they ring hollow given what lies ahead. 

As you walk toward the stage, your breathing comes quick and shallow. A boy with dark hair catches your gaze, his expression as grim as yours. "It will be over soon," he murmurs, though you're not sure if he means the reaping or your life.

Reaching the steps, you turn to face the crowd, fists clenched. The escort swirls the strips of paper in the empty fish bowl, as if this is simply a game to her. She pinches one between her fingers and drags it out slowly before unfurling it and reading aloud the name.

“Leon Kennedy,” she declares. 

Of course getting reaped isn’t the last of your misfortunes. Although you don’t directly know him, you know what he’s capable of. He climbs on stage beside you, jaw working as if chewing over angry words. 

"No use raging at them now," you mutter under your breath.

Leon barks a short, bitter laugh. "I guess you're right. Small comfort, that." 

You don’t speak after that, settling into tense silence as your escort waits for the applause that never comes. The depressing gazes of all your loved ones, the people you know, and the people who don’t know you exist, proves to be too much, so you shift your eyes to the ground, pointed at your toes.

There is one more pair of eyes that land on you, eyes that you don’t wish to meet. But when Effie requests for the “lucky kids” to shake hands, you force yourself to drag your gaze from the ground, up his slender legs, the tendon that stretches when he looks down at you, challenging you silently, to his fingertips outstretched, waiting for your hand.

And when you finally shake on it, you remember just who he is to you.

Leon.

<><><><><>

You freeze in your movements, cradling the assortment of berries closer to your chest, the handkerchief tickling your chin. Pale, icy eyes trail down your body, sizing you up, searing everywhere they grace.

You know him, but he doesn’t know you. You’ve seen him, one of the nicer looking kids at your school, always well groomed, arriving to class on time and getting only the best grades.

But no one is perfect, and his flaws are in his arrogance, which doesn’t get any better when all the girls fawn over him, tripping over one another to catch even a flit of his eyes. What would they think now, of him watching you, a poor, peasant girl. You have to hold back a smile at the faint thought passing your mind.  

“Well,” he remarks, unable to hold back the smirk that tugs at his lips, “looks like I’ve finally caught the little bird pecking at my garden, hm?” You flush madly. So he has noticed the previous times you’ve snuck through the fence, collecting his family’s plants. 

"I…I meant no harm," you say meekly, lowering your gaze. "I was only gathering bits of food to help feed my poor family." Playing the pity card is a new low, even for you, but the consequences of mistakes ring through the square often, burned in your eyes, the whine of a leather whip, the sound it makes when it meets tender flesh.

"Hmm, is that so?" he considers, stroking his chin, grinning. "Maybe I’ll let it go, just this once. But you’ll have to pay up."

“I have no money,” you say quietly. “I… cannot pay you, at least not right now. Please, just two weeks-”

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, eyes fixing on your trembling lips. "A kiss, sweet bird, and I'll let your theft go. What do you say?”

Perhaps you’ll suffice to get whipped. Anything over that.

“No,” you say firmly, stepping away, further into the sanctuary of the forest. “I won’t do that.”

“So you won’t mind if I tell the Peacekeepers?” he muses.

“I only took a little!” you plead.

“And I’m not asking for much in return, am I?”

You hesitate, torn between duty and danger. But survival demands sacrifice. Holding back a troubled, irritated groan, you allow him to step closer, lift your chin and capture your mouth with his own, firm but fleeting.

"Now fly home to your nest, little birdie,” he taunts as he breaks away from him, wiping your lips frantically, trying to get rid of the sweet taste of fresh bread and butter that mingled from his tongue to yours.

Does he kiss everyone like this? So hard, fast, as if he’s trying to consume you whole? You feel pity for all the girls he’s left behind with broken hearts, like lost puppies following him everywhere. 

The last thing you expect is to be longing for it again, reaching for the feeling of being held like that, of being wanted, desirable. And you find that nowhere else but with him.

Of course, that feeling only dims slightly when the Peacekeepers knock at your door the next day, pretending to lecture you about theft, but there are no consequences, surprisingly. You suspect it must be because half of your best customers are the officials, the ones meant to enforce the rules, since everyone in the area is desperate for meat.

You did what he asked.

He ratted you out, either way.

So why can’t you stop thinking about him?

<><><><>

Your father’s weary face is what greets you first in the velvet setting of the Justice Building, before flurrying footsteps escape the guard’s clutches and long, thin arms wrap around you, tears immediately staining the flimsy fabric of your tunic.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” he whispers to you, and as the twins reluctantly pull away so he can gather you in his arms, embracing you to what, horrifyingly, feels like the last time you’ll inhale his musty, familiar coal scent that lingers everywhere in the house.

“Chris will bring you food,” you instruct as soon as he meets your eyes, stepping away. “Don’t turn it down. When I get back-”

“When?” he muses, a sad light twinkling in his aged eyes. “You’re this confident?”

“You heard them!” you hiss, exasperated. “I have to come back. They’ll kill you if I don’t.”

“Don’t worry about us,” he insists. “I’ve already planned everything out.”

“What does that even mean?” If it were anyone else, you would’ve missed the subtle flit of his eyes to the Peacekeepers standing to attention behind you, listening in to your conversation. You realize there is something he cannot say with them here.

So you soften your face, cradle the twins into one last hug and use that as an excuse to pull him back in. Your father’s voice is so soft you can barely make out what he’s saying over the twins’ sobbing.

“District 13, we’re going to find them.”

“They’re dead,” you murmur. 

“If you come back, you know where to find us,” he says, adorning a sweet, solemn smile on his face as he withdraws, adjusting the collar of your tunic where it slants to one side. “Do you understand?”

The way he’s speaking makes it clear that he could be talking about anything now, so you attempt to match his expression, keeping your tone light. “Yes, Father. I’ll try my best.”

He pats your shoulder, nodding. “I know you will, my girl.”

When they call that time’s up, you ignore the twins’ protests and kiss them both on their cheeks, waving goodbye to their tear streaked, chubby faces, trying to imprint the image in your head forever.

The next person that comes in is someone you don’t expect. It’s Claire, the younger Redfield sibling; your hunting partner rarely discusses his little sister, so you don’t know her aside from seeing her during classes.

She offers no meager response, no subtle greeting, only grips your hands tightly, entwining your fingers with her own, pulling you closer. “Well? What’s your strategy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“For the Games?”

“I mean, I have to train hard-”

“No.”

“No?” You frown at her command, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“There’s only one thing that you have to do,” she explains. “It’s how Leon’s brother won the Games way back when.”

“And that is…?” you prompt.

Her eyes are steely, unforgiving. “Keep Leon alive. The rest will come later.”

You’re frozen into a shock for about a second before you harshly release her hands, rough with years of hard labor, stepping away from her. “Excuse me?”

“You have to fool him into believing that you want an alliance!” she grumbles. “And I don’t think I can take any more of Chris’s groveling if you die.”

“Chris doesn’t grovel.” A corner of her lip quirks up.

“You don’t live with him,” she retorts, albeit gently. “Listen, don’t get yourself killed out there. You’re a smart girl. I know you can win.”

And she’s grinning and gone, a shitload of emotions dumped onto you, and a new outlook on the Games, and your potential partner. You’ve seen that method multiple times from the Victors, however convincing, and you nod to yourself.

You've got a winning shot if you have him, you know that.

You let a lazy smile overtake your face.

Well, at least until you kill him.

<><><><>

Of all the people in the Capitol, your stylist, by far, has been your favorite.

Your hands tremble as Cinna leads you to your prep team. Effie assured you this is his first year as a stylist, and he has "big ideas" to make an impression.

"Everything will be alright," he says gently, meeting your fearful eyes in the mirror. His deft hands make quick work of transforming you into someone else, someone you don’t recognize.

As your raw nerves are plucked and primed, Cinna talks soothingly of his plans. "The fire theme is overdone. I want to show you not as a beast to fear, but as a symbol of hope that cannot be extinguished."

Looking in the mirror, you gasp - you’re swathed elegantly in a flowing carbon-fiber gown that resembles burning coal embers. Wings of delicate gold wire sprout from your shoulder blades like a phoenix rising.

"Cinna, it's...incredible," you breathe.

He smiles warmly. "Panem will remember you, but not as a killer. You’re going to be our dream."

Your old fear returns as you reach the chariot. But seeing Cinna’s admiring grin from across the stable, you stand tall, finding courage in his vision.

And then Leon approaches, flanked by his stylist and prep team. They beam at you, drinking in your matching outfits, which you don’t remember agreeing to. But even you can’t disagree that you stand out from the starkly contrasting duos of tributes. 

Your heart pounds as the chariot ride nears. Catching you tense up, your panicked expression, Cinna tilts your head up with his finger. 

"Chin up, girl on fire.” He exhales. “Own who you are."

You climb up the ivory steps, paintings of flames licking the side of the chariot, spreading onto the horses’ flanks, matching the design on your perfectly trimmed, crescent shaped nails.

“Girl on fire, hm?” Leon says jokingly, although his voice is quiet. Neither of you have interacted since the Reaping, and it feels strange to be talking to a man that once held your life in his beautiful, beautiful hands.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you mutter as the chariot lurches forward, unused to the sudden jolt of movement that doesn’t require you to use your legs.

“Seriously?” You lift your head just enough to catch Leon giving you a concerned look, just as the new day’s rays hit his face, bathing his skin in an ethereal glow. You don’t expect him to tug you upright as the crowd gets a glimpse of you, entwining your fingers tight with his.

The way he clutches your hand makes you smile, drunk on a feeling you shouldn’t have, so you use your free hand to wave. The roar shakes you to your core - but it's not hatred, it's adoration. You’ve stunned them all. You beam at the cheering colors.

You test out blowing a kiss to one part of the crowd, where you see a little girl jump and scream for your attention, and everyone reaches out as if they can grab it, holding it close to their chests, as if there’s something caught in the space between their fingers and palm.

It gives you a sense of unmatched power, knowing that everyone is looking at you, that the Careers are definitely glaring at you, because they are so used to getting all the attention that now that you are captivating everything with the golden, flaming arches unfurling from your back, they aren’t pleased.

For once, you’re glad that you have Leon to grip, eyes flickering from the firelight of your wings, dancing down his simple, elegant suit that seems to blend with the darkness and reflect the flames.

You realize that his hand has gone white, so you move to release your grip, but he pulls you back, a pleading look mingling with the fireflies blinking in his waning eyes.

“Please,” he whispers. “I might fall off.”

You laugh softly, but the cameras don’t miss anything. You both have been getting a significant amount of screen time compared to the other tributes, so when you finish your rounds, waving up at President Snow, the distaste curling your tongue disappears when Leon hops down and offers you his hand.

You accept it gratefully, cameras lingering on you both before switching to another duo. While Cinna gently removes the flaming wings, smiling proudly, Leon twists to grin at you, so genuine you could fool yourself into thinking that everything that comes out of his mouth is true.

“You’re pretty cute when you’re on fire,” he says simply. “You should wear gold more often.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say before you can stop yourself. And then you remind yourself of what Claire said - he’ll be planning to kill you. You have to kill him before he can get to you.

So because whatever you sow, you must reap, you lean closer, knowing all the tributes are glowering at you, the attention undoubtedly set directly on you, distributed unevenly. You cup his cheek gently, deliberately, enjoying the flash of confusion rushing through his eyes.

And you peck a soft kiss to his jawline.

<><><><>

Just like the opening ceremonies, your training uniforms correlate with one another’s perfectly - looking out of place with everyone else wearing totally different things.

"Remember, these next days will determine your survival," Haymitch says as we enter the Training Center.

You steel yourself, knowing the horrors that await below. But seeing Leon’s steady, calm gaze as you descend among the other tributes, sizing each other up like prey, you realize that there’s nothing to doubt.

Rather than cower, you both stand tall and match strides, sticking with each other through every station. Of course, there are things that Leon is better at than you lack in, and vice versa. But instead of tripping you up, he helps you through it, just as you return the favor by explaining how to properly tie a knot, identify edible plants and start a fire.

No one will doubt your alliance. If anything, you wish for people to join your team, however temporary. But there is only a shadow trailing you everywhere, a boy that reminds you of your little brother, with his square, soft jawline and wide, innocent eyes.

He can’t be older than nine, so you take pity on him and keep your voice louder so he can overhear. Against all odds, you don’t want him to die.

Just like you don’t want Leon to die. You catch yourself watching him more and more, oftentimes keeping an eye on him while he stretches, admiring the tight coils of his body, so perfectly sculpted, like a statue from marble.

He must feel you looking, because he cranes his neck to spot you peering at him, then chuckles as you rush to finish your double knot from rope.

Leon doesn’t miss any chances to make snarky comments, whether it be during spear throwing, or the twenty minutes spared for lunch. 

But you never underestimate how dangerous he can be. Glimmer gives you the barest definition of a sneer, and within moments, with just a flick of his wrist, a knife sails past the tribute's throat. 

Her expression, plastered with shock, shows her thoughts.

Message received.

Slowly but surely, day by day, you earn everyone’s respect, however hesitant or however grudgingly, but you never miss the way they whisper as you stroll past, conversing with one another about which activity you’re going to excel at today.

“So, tell me.” Haymitch leans back in the dinner chair, hands resting on his stomach as the hazy look in his eyes fades away, the effects of the wine he had thirty minutes ago wearing off. “What can you do?”

“She’s the hunter.” Leon shrugs. “I can’t do much.”

“You carry around all that coal,” you point out. You’ve watched him from the forest, where he wheels the barrows filled with heavy, dusty blocks of coal back and forth, a fine layer of coal dust settling over his skin.

“Of course. My greatest weapon,” he deadpans. “Coal.”

“I meant your strength,” you grumble. “Be optimistic, can you?”

“You’re telling me.” Leon chuckles.

“Enough bickering,” Haymitch groans. “So, hunter, what’s your special gift?”

“I can… uh… well…”

“You’re not making this easy for me, are you?” Haymitch shakes his head, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Can’t you use a bow?”

You shake your head.

“Knives? Daggers? Spears?”

“Leon can use a knife,” you add. 

“Real helpful,” Haymitch drones. “Okay, here’s what’s about to happen. Leon, you’re going to teach her how to use a knife. And she’ll teach you to hunt. Deal?”

You’re pretty sure that’s what you’ve been doing, but for the last day of training, you agree to at least try your mentor’s advice.

Which is how you find yourself in this situation.

You sneak a glance back at Leon, who seems occupied, so you turn your attention back to the knife, gingerly picking it up and trying to mime a stabbing motion on an invisible target. Your face flushes crimson when you hear some restrained laughter behind you.

"Shut up!" you cross your arms and pout, turning away from him. "You’re supposed to be teaching me, not laughing at me."

You hear footsteps behind you, and before you can look over your shoulder, he's crossed the room and is standing against you, his arms encasing yours and fingers gracefully planting themselves against the hilt of the knife.

You glance up at him, but he clicks his tongue.

"Eyes down here, birdie," he says, and his low voice in your ear sends flames shooting from where his fingers meet yours and up your spine, straight to your head. Your chest twists as you suddenly have a name for the fire that ignites in the pit of your stomach, unmistakable and blunt against everything else fighting for a spot in your head. "Hold it like this."

"Got it," you mumble, your voice coming out even quieter than expected. Your pulse thrums under his, blond hair brushing the side of your cheek, azure eyes darting from you to the knife.

Leon abruptly pulls away, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. He takes an edged breath, and your heart slows. You palm the knife in your hand, turning to face him and twisting it through your fingers slowly.

"Careful," he murmurs. "You might cut yourself."

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you attempt dryly. 

Neither of you laugh.

<><><><><>

It irks you, to say the least, that none of the Gamemakers are paying attention to you. They’d rather make small talk about how divine the feast spread out in front of them is, or what they’ll be doing over the weekend, and it pisses you off.

So you reckon that to get their attention, you’ll need to show them you’re worth watching.

Their obliviousness makes you smile inwardly as you will your heartbeat to slow as you stalk towards the jovial crowd, drawing closer with each steady breath. Under cover of noise and distracted chatter, you were gaining.

The group is joking about how no one has impressed them yet. You’re about to change that. You crawl the final length on hands and knees, careful touch mapping the terrain so each advancement felt natural. Upwind, you find cover behind a silk curtain draped over a table and readied yourself. When laughter rises loudest, you strike.

Your arms wrap tight around a target, not quite caring who it is, twisted in an inescapable hold, your other hand covering their mouth to muffle their cries. The rest of the Gamemakers gape at you as you release the woman in your grasp.

She stumbles away, collapsing to her knees, gasping for air. The other examiners stare in both amazement and fear, searching your eyes soundlessly. 

“Thank you for your consideration? May I be excused?” Without waiting for an answer, you bow slightly.

And you take a step back, letting the shadows accentuate your face, saluting with a grin before melting back into the shadows, feeling worse about yourself than you were before.

You don’t expect the smile on Haymitch’s face, nor the slight amusement on Effie’s when they exchange a look as you explain your story.

“Well,” Leon says with a huff. “Now mine sounds boring.”

“You let your anger get the best of you,” Haymitch deduces, nodding. “Good. We can use some spirit.”

“But you said I needed to compose myself.”

“You’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

Haymitch leans back, a faraway look coming over him as if recalling another time, another Games. "We’re both still human. It’s in our nature to best those looking down on us.”

There seems to be an underlying meaning to what he says, but you don’t bother trying to figure out what it is. Instead, you tilt your head at Leon, gesturing for him to continue.

“How’d you do?” you ask politely.

“Not bad,” he admits. “Nothing showy like you. I just did what I did to Glimmer.”

“Immediate 12,” you say, shaking your head in fake remorse. “You exposed yourself to her, too.”

“But she’s pretty dumb,” Leon argues. “I think she’ll be out quick.”

He’s not wrong, you can say that much. There’s definitely competition, you know that, but there are certain tributes you know you don't need to stress over.

Leon admitting to his inferior performance startles you. He's changing, adapting to the game of puppetry they're slowly starting to implement onto you, preparing you for the games.

And you keep your eyes forward.

<><><><><>

In the room, stylists twist Leon's hair into elaborate patterns that fall over his eyes, casting shadows over his pale blue irises. He gives you a crooked smile with the side of his face as a makeup artist dabs his cheekbones with powder.

Leon's wearing a sweater that matches yours, except unlike you, he looks like he's been attending private school over the summer, spending his days playing polo and betting on horse races, a luxury only District 1 has.

You don't understand why Leon needs makeup. He already looks fine, but you suppose "fine" won't suffice for the Capitol’s games. You realize you’re glaring at him and quickly look away.

"Alright, let's go over this," Haymitch drawls, standing near the edge of the couch you’re sitting on. "You need to make it seem like you've been close friends with him, kept in touch for a long time."

"Got it," you say, slightly bitter. "Why couldn't you do this?"

"Because I’m not your mother."

"Aren’t you mentoring us?”

"That depends on how today goes," Haymitch says, but a small smile has crept onto his face. He shakes his head and glances down at you, eyes flitting to the complex camera system. "Do what you need to. Remember what's at stake here."

You nod and mimic the action before he walks away. Someone shoos all of Leon's artists away, sending them scrambling like a school of fish. And they’ve called your names, the district interviews being set with both tributes. In what world they assumed this would help the kids about to die to open up, you couldn’t imagine.

You see none of this confusion reflected in the preppy interviewer, Caesar Flickerman who is sitting near you, smiling eerily.

"So, you two, you look cozy over there," he says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you want to throw up. "Let’s hear a little about you two, huh?" He turns, wide eyes boring into you.

Your intro is somewhat unsteady, the way he’s worded the question throwing you off. "Well, uh… we’re…”

"We've been friends for a long time," Leon finishes for you, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs. It sends warning bells ringing in your head, the informal posture, but you only hear the crowd swooning, so maybe it has something to do with his charming personality. He smiles warmly at the camera and the interviewer's own only grows.

"You’ve been friends since your childhood, yes?” he asks, directing a pen towards the both of you.

"Uh..." Leon's eyes cut to you.

"Yes," you say for him. "We've pretty much known each other for our entire lives."

"Mhm, yup," Leon affirms.

"Now, here's the biggest question on everyone's mind," he says, leaning forward in her seat. "Your story, from what I can tell, has its rocky start, but from what we can see on the cameras, something is blossoming between you. I mean, you both got an 11! Something doesn’t seem quite right.” As if on cue, scripted, the audience laughs. Caesar waggles his eyebrows cartoonishly. “Care to explain?" He lets out a boyish giggle.

"I'm... sorry?" Leon tilts his head, and by the confused look in his eyes you see he doesn't understand the full length of what the man said.

"I understand what you're implying," you begin, “but-”

"Wait, what, you do?" Leon turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "What does he mean?"

"Go ahead. Tell him what I mean," he says, long, curved eyelashes fluttering. He waves the camera over and you feel the gazes of what feels like the entirety of Panem on you.

It's Leon. He'll laugh at the implication and wave it off. He’s just some guy. You don’t care what he thinks, do you?

"He, along with the rest of whoever 'everyone' is, thinks we're together." The room holds its breath, Leon's expression unchanging. Then he smiles.

"Are we?"

"No, stupid."

"Women," he says, scoffing and turning to look at the other side. The camera zooms in on his face, and you can see a smile creep onto the side of his face.

"Leon has very readable emotions," you say, immediately getting his attention. He snaps back to you, eyes meeting yours in a challenging glare. You sit forward and he copies your movements, his glare cast downward as yours is cast upward. Your faces are so close that your noses could be touching.

"My lovely partner, as you can see, has visible reactions to everything I do. I guess I'm just too handsome for her to leave alone," he says smugly, a smirk curving his lips.

"Fuck off, you self-absorbed prick."

Leon leans forward. "Wow, are we giving them something to talk about?"

You meet his gaze without flinching. "No.”

He smiles strangely. "Your readable reaction says otherwise."

Your temper flashes. "Don't flatter yourself. I couldn't care less.”

“So, you two, hm?” Caesar Flickerman interrupts, glancing at you both, raising an eyebrow inquisitively, most likely trying to change the subject. “I didn’t expect that, now did I?”

“Neither did I,” Leon mumbles, trying to make it seem like a joke with a quirk of his mouth. “But here we are.”

Since you’re not responding, the interviewer keeps the questions to Leon, who responds with as much wit as he can muster.

“You should be proud to call such a…” Caesar struggles to grasp the right word for your personality. “Fierce young lady, your partner.”

“She isn’t my partner,” Leon replies casually.

“Then who does she belong to?” Caesar leans in, propping his head on his elbow. The fact you’re being objectified by this man, while you sit right in front of him, makes you want to lean over and punch him, crack that chiseled jaw, but Leon just scoffs.

“No one. She’s her own girl.”

You stare up at Leon, who looks back down at you from the side of his eye, slanting to meet your height. Something about that comment feels both complementary and insulting, as if he can’t decide on his opinion of you.

Maybe he’s trying to make up for what he said earlier. Or maybe he doesn’t care. You’ll admit that it bothers you slightly, the fact that he’s so unbothered by everything and that anything he says doesn’t pass you.

Then, finally, your interview is over, the buzzer ringing in your ears.

“That seems about all the time we have, folks.”

You don't know what to expect, but it's not the roar of protests that greet you as you stand and exit the stage, seething but as formal as you can manage.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Haymitch doesn't look any happier than you feel, but you dismiss it with a shrug.

“They could perceive it as…” Cinna shakes his head. “Trouble in paradise?”

“What part of this situation is even close to paradise?” You blanch. 

“The food?” Flavius suggests, voice as close to a helpful chirp during a quiet hunt, doing nothing to quash the anger that sears the back of your neck.

“Wait, seriously, listen to me-”

“The last thing I’m doing is listening to you, Leon,” you hiss. You turn back to your mentor, hands brushing.

"You both are excused," Haymitch mutters at your expression.

<><><><>

But something doesn’t sit right with you, so you storm over to Leon’s room, knocking rapidly.

A loose white shirt hangs low beneath his hips, covering his thighs and presumably shorts. He opens the door with blurry eyes, rubbing them, blinking down at you, tilting his head in confusion. “Need something, sweetheart?”

You scowl at the pet name and push your way past him. He gets the idea and closes the door behind you, locking it before turning to face you. His fingers tangle his already tousled mess of golden hair as he exhales slowly.

“What… happened back there?” you ask tentatively. 

“Haymitch… he wants us to play the romance card.”

A beat of silence passes. “Even if not one, but both of us die?”

“I guess it brings in more sponsors?” Leon shrugs helplessly, yawning, mouth stretching into an ‘o’. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What you said back there, did you mean it?” Leon arches an eyebrow. “About me… being… my own person?”

“I mean, yeah?” He cups the back of his neck and stretches, flexing his bicep. “It’s not like we’re complete strangers.”

“Of course not,” you mumble. “How could I ever forget?”

Leon chuckles. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t gotten over that.”

“Might be simple to you,” you say, “but I could’ve died.”

“Because I kissed you?”

“Because you ratted me out!”

Leon shakes his head. “That’s where you messed up. I didn’t say anything.”

You pause. Everything that you’ve assumed about him over the past six years, judging his character because of the strong belief he put your life in danger, seems to vanish. “You didn’t?”

“That was my brother. He saw us.”

“He did?” you exclaim.

“You didn’t think you were the only one to suffer the consequences, did you?” He attempts to keep his tone airy, but there’s something heavy behind it. Immediately, your mind goes to the morning of the Reaping, to the red on his face, to the close bond between the baker’s wife and Leon’s mother, and you make the connection.

“Oh, shit, Leon,” you murmur. “I’m so sorry.”

“Still want to be coached separately?”

Your lips twist into a grimace. “That’s not what this is about.”

The only response you receive is a small shrug. “Anyways, there’s nothing you could’ve done about it.” His eyes sparkle with unshed tears, but he keeps his voice steady. “I hope you know that even if you hadn’t… you know, kissed me, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

He ducks his head, not wanting to see your hesitant nod.

“I’m not a bad guy,” he says quietly, as if trying to convince himself. “It’s just… all anyone would talk to me about was my brother, the second Victor of District 12. There was no one for me.

“And you came into my life, just… there, and you were separate from the life that I had, all adoration for my brother. You gave me attention.”

“But what are we?” you press, more insistent. “I can’t play a game with you like that. I need to hear it straight.”

"You know what we are," Leon says, meeting your gaze. His eyes, however much they've darkened over the years, are still his, full of confusion. There's something different now, though. There's something guarding them, some kind of emotional barrier to keep from showing too much. Something he’s keeping.

"I used to think I did," you say. "But I don't think I do anymore."

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

"I don't know." Leon mumbles. "How am I supposed to know? You don't fucking tell me anything, and it’s been almost a decade." His feet shuffle on the floor.

"A decade?" You laugh dryly. "Well, we are getting pretty damn close to that milestone, aren't we?"

Leon’s eyes flash dangerously. “You know it isn't that simple.”

“But it is,” you retort. "You don’t care.”

Leon leans in closer, voice dropping to a fierce whisper. “If you think I don't care, then you’re more naive than I thought. You have no idea what was really at stake.”

You match his tone, eyes glittering. “Enlighten me then. Go on, tell me how much you care."

"Why can't you just-

You lift your chin defiantly. “Just what, Leon?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Get out.”

“You know what?” You brush past him, feeling his eyes linger on your back as you open the door. You don’t spare him another glance. “I think I will.”

<><><><>

The gong sounds and you launch from your metal circle, sprinting toward the Cornucopia with the others. Adrenaline surges through my veins as you spot a backpack and dagger nearby.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see one of the boys tackle another to the ground. A sickening crunch and the cannon fires - the first death in mere seconds.

Grabbing the supplies you were eyeing, you spin to flee but freeze in horror. Two Careers have Leon pinned, knives flashing as he fights like a cornered animal. Without thought, you whip your new dagger at the nearest attacker. It sinks hilt-deep in their neck with a wet thunk.

There is only a moment of shock before Leon retaliates, slashing at the second boy. Before long, they’re both crumpled on the ground as Leon picks through their freshly deceased bodies.

Your eyes meet amid the screams and clashing steel. For an instant, understanding passes between you blood-soaked survivors. Then you nod, turn, and run as fast as you can from the massacre, finding safety from the pounding of boots.

You rush into the thickening forest as more cannons boom, signaling the end of the initial slaughter. None pursue you further into the shadows of the trees. You slump against a trunk, chest heaving.

And yet your thoughts wander to how Leon is faring, to the crestfallen look on his face that surely must adorn his expression, because you could’ve allied with one another.

But you know it’s best this way.

There can only be one winner, after all.

<><><><>

You’ve had your eye on her since you woke up. She’s too loud to miss, like a clumsy deer separated from its family. She crashes into everything, making a racket, and she risks giving away your location, too.

So you track her.

Your footsteps are light, albeit not completely quiet. Still, your victim, the girl from District 5, has not noticed, and you adapt to the shadows, moving as one with them, as if you’re truly just back on a hunt in District 12.

How proud would Chris be of you? He would finally accept your hunting tread, finally praise you, stop teasing you for scaring away potential game. You long for his comforting presence here, but he is not here, and the one person who is…

Well, the person who just happens to be one of your next targets.

But for now, you watch the girl that stalks towards another clearing. She waits, cautiously glancing around every two seconds, wasting precious time. You’re just about to take another step towards her when you notice the subtle change, unmissable to your trained eyes; the shift of colors in one specific area.

The leaves are brighter, less natural, as if placed there intentionally. You do not say a word as the girl fails to see the thin strings glinting sunlight in her way, sharp and silent, waiting for her. One at her feet trips her, and before she can catch herself, the strings slice into her skin. She lies there, whimpering, held up by the threads, before the one pressing at her stomach finally cuts through.

She tumbles down, dripping crimson. A moan passes her lips, pained, like an injured animal, but somehow, she manages to take a breath and twist her body around, craning her neck to assess the damage.

For a second, it seems as though all is okay. And then the lower half of her body slips down, and crumples a few inches away from her. Her entire digestive system, coated in glistening blood, splays out in front of her, slumping into the dead leaves.

From this angle, you can see her open her mouth to scream, but only a gurgle comes out as her mouth fills with blood. She catches sight of her bow, the one she wore to the interview, the one you had noticed her clutching dearly to her chest, lying on near her fingertips, and she strains to grab it.

Something snaps in her neck and she twitches for a moment before going still. Everything goes silent, as if nature itself is witnessing this moment.

The beautiful girl whose clumsiness was her downfall, whose name I never knew lies on the ground, a horrible, gruesome sight left of the woman who was once a daughter, a sister, a friend. She does not move again.

But the shadows around her do. And from those same shadows I hide in emerge the Careers, brutish, beefy boys that I had not paid much attention to at training, because you were too busy looking at that little brat.

You wonder which one of them has the brains to set up such a complicated, subtle trap, so cleverly placed that you might’ve missed it if she hadn’t already died. Just as you resolve to watch them cackle at the poor, dead girl, you notice another figure slip from the shadows.

And once they step into the sunlight, dappling their face in aligned patterns, you almost drop your knife onto the ground.

The boy standing there is someone you don't expect.

Leon.

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

"Gale says I never smile except in the woods." - Katniss, THG, Ch. 1.

I present to you: Instances of Katniss effortlessly smiling/laughing around/because of Peeta in the first book:

Peeta unexpectedly laughs. “He was drunk,” says Peeta. “He’s drunk every year.”  “Every day,” I add. I can’t help smirking a little. 

“Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn’t he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?” says Peeta.  “With all that alcohol in him, it’s probably not advisable to have him around an open flame,” I say.  And suddenly we’re both laughing. I guess we’re both so nervous about the Games and more pressingly, petrified of being turned into human torches, we’re not acting sensibly. 

When we finally escape to bed on the second night, Peeta mumbles, “Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink.”  I make a sound that is somewhere between a snort and a laugh. Then catch myself. It’s messing with my mind too much, trying to keep straight when we’re supposedly friends and when we’re not. 

“I hope that’s how people interpret the four I’ll probably get,” says Peeta. “If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards. One almost landed on my foot.”  I grin at him and realize that I’m starving. 

Peeta, it turns out, has never been a danger to me.  The thought makes me smile. 

“Lean down a minute first,” he says. “Need to tell you something.” I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. “Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”  I jerk my head back but end up laughing. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” 

“Katniss?” Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words.  “How about that kiss?”  I burst out laughing because the whole thing is so revolting I can’t stand it. 

Peeta’s struggling to get up when I reach the cave. “I woke up and you were gone,” he says. “I was worried about you.”  I have to laugh as I ease him back down. “You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?” 

“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. 

“What’s the problem?” I say with a grin.  “The problem is we’re both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing,” says Peeta. 

“Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games’ tales.”  “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. 

“Hey, Effie, watch this!” says Peeta. He tosses his fork over his shoulder and literally licks his plate clean with his tongue making loud, satisfied sounds. Then he blows a kiss out to her in general and calls, “We miss you, Effie!”  I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” 

[districtunrest]

hey! :) i just saw your tags on one of your reblogs mentioning peeta killing the d4 boy? i was just wondering if you can cite some theories about this or even canon events (maybe i missed something?) in support of this? thank you!

hi good morning! and ofc

I can't find the post now but someone within the last year or so did do the research within the first book to support this. I held the same theory before that, but I'll be going off things I remember that post referencing as well my own rationale, jsyk.

mostly, it always stuck out to me that a Career tribute died during the bloodbath (thg 157). let's forget the movie's depiction of him; the D4 boy was very likely not a younger, untrained kid. the D4 girl was in the Career pack, I think it's safe to assume the D4 boy would have been as well. but he died on the first day.

this is after Haymitch, like this post points out, advised both Peeta and Katniss to stay way from the bloodbath at the Cornucopia (thg 138-139)... and then both of them didn't, lol

because Katniss sees the bow and arrows there and thinks she can go for it, second-guessing that Haymitch wouldn't have advised her like he did if he knew how fast she was (thg 149). but when she sets herself up to run for it, she notices Peeta shaking his head at her - like, no don't please just listen to Haymitch pleaSE - and misses the gong (thg 150). fumbling, she still gets away with a backpack - and a knife from Clove - from the outer edge of the Cornucopia (thg 151). we don't know where Peeta is through all of this, but the next time we do, he's in the Career pack (thg 160).

at which point, Katniss notes,

His face is swollen with bruises, there's a bloody bandage on one arm, and from the sound of his gait he's limping somewhat. I remember him shaking his head, telling me not to go into the fight for the supplies, when all along, all along he'd planned to throw himself into the thick of things. Just the opposite of what Haymitch had told him to do (thg 161).

...okay at this time in the story Katniss is notorioisly wrong about Peeta. she assigns motives to him that end up being the exact opposite of what's true. so piecing through her judgment here, we can tell Peeta fought, presumably in the bloodbath, and came away from it in the Career pack. we also know he wasn't supposed to do any of that - but he has a crush on Katniss, and plans to die for her, and he saw that she was about to throw herself into the thick of things.

one of the Careers remarks that Peeta is "handy with that knife" - on the first night in the arena (thg 162). so they've already seen him fight, and whoever his opponent was left some considerable damage, and they're down an ally...

so I theorize that, spurred by Katniss' last-minute decision to forgo Haymitch's advice, Peeta followed her into the bloodbath in order to protect her. but whereas Katniss got away, Peeta got caught up in a fight - I presume with the D4 boy. Peeta won, showcasing his knife skills and impressing the other Careers, and then from there was able to talk his way into the pack, with the dual purpose of saving his skin for another day as well as protecting Katniss. after all, she learns during the recap how he "misled the Careers about [her], stayed awake the entire night under the tracker jacker tree, fought Cato to let [her] escape" (thg 363). but I doubt that was his plan from the get-go, he was just working with the circumstances he had. I mean, it would be near impossible for Peeta to leave the alliance alive once he was in it - he's the first one they'd turn on - and so I doubt Haymitch would've approved it prior. to me, it seems like Peeta got stuck in it and used it for all he could.

Peeta goes on to mercy kill the girl from D8 (thg 162). this, I imagine, was harder for him since she was defenseless and not trying to kill him. but I think people conflate this as being his first kill when we don't know that for sure. when watching the recap, Katniss doesn't note Peeta killing the D8 girl - it tracks she wouldn't note him killing the D4 boy, either. not that Katniss doesn't watch/learn this information, but it's just sort of the shock of it all and she wouldn't hold it against him in any way. and we know all too well Katniss doesn't always share what she does know with us.

so that's my long-held theory! let me know if you have other questions about it :)

[phefics]

(Ily work!!)

How do you think the thg boys and girls would react to you having a panic attack?

Ty <33

coryo is suprisingly understanding. he's had panic attacks before, like in canon, so i think he would know how to ground you, and comfort you afterwards. "hey, look at me. i'm right here, okay? you're safe, i've got you."

finnick is good under pressure, and understands panic attacks very well, as his ptsd has made him all too familiar with them. when he has panic attacks, he doesn't want to be touched, so he'd probably assume the same of you. he does his best to talk you through it and then already has water, a snack, and is ready to listen to you vent when it ends.

gale is a little confused, but he's got the spirit. he tries to help, but isn't exactly sure how, so he kind of just rubs your back and tells you you're alright, but it makes him really nervous/upset to see you like that. he'd probably ask prim for tips just in case it happens again.

haymitch also has had plenty of panic attacks (mostly before he started drinking), but he takes a slightly harsher, "snap out of it" sort of way of helping. it does usually work, and he'll apologize and comfort you after, but he isn't good at talking you through it, since no one ever did that for him.

johanna has always used substances to calm her anxiety, so she would honestly be a little unsure of how to genuinely comfort you. she probably has to ask finnick what she should say/do, but once she gets the hang of it, she is surprisingly very soft with you about it.

katniss is actually very good at dealing with anxiety, nightmares, and/or panic attacks, having plenty of experience with prim, her mother, her fellow victors, herself. she'll hold you and hum/sing to you, either during or after, depending on if being touched is okay or not.

lucy gray is so gentle with you, and would also probably sing to try and ground/calm you, something soft and sweet. even with her ptsd from the arena, panic attacks aren't something she experiences often, so she is less familiar with them than some of the other characters, so she probably needs some tips on how to best support you.

peeta is surprisingly mechanical about it, and has you do the whole head-between-your-knees, deep-breathing kind of thing. his gentle comfort comes after, he insists that you calm your mind and body in the way a medical professional would recommend, talking you through it, and then once you've come out of the attack, he'll do whatever you need to feel comforted and supported.

sejanus is the sweetest, but under pressure, he does freak out a little. if you started having a panic attack in front of him, i think he'd be a little out of sorts and not know exactly how to help. after the first time, he'd ask you what he should do next time so he'll be better prepared. he's much better at the comfort afterwards than the support during.

tigris is naturally a very caring person, so taking care of you during/after a panic attack comes very easily to her, even if she isn't well-versed on what to do, she sort of intuitively knows what you need and will do it without question or complaint. she definitely makes you food and cuddles you afterwards.

[flying-ham]

one of the greatest tragedies of the hunger games series is Mrs. Everdeen. She both begins and ends the series dealing with tremendous loss, and instead of holding on tighter to those that remain, she allows herself to succumb to the pain and loneliness of her own mind.

At the beginning of thg, katniss describes the depression her mother sunk into after the death of her father. She says that, "my mother was locked in some dark world of sadness, but at the time, all I knew was that I had lost not only a father, but a mother as well," (thg). Katniss struggles to reconcile the mother she currently has with the one she remembers from the age of 11. She cannot ever fully trust this woman again as, "I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father’s sake. But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type," (thg). Because Mrs. Everdeen could not cope with the loss of her husband, she very nearly lost her two daughters as well. Thus, Katniss and her mother's relationship became permanently altered, only really beginning to improve by catching fire and mockingjay.

Even as Katniss and her mother's relationship blossoms and improves, she still does not feel that she can fully share with and rely on her mother. In Mockingjay, Katniss tries to protect Prim and her mother, saying "It's automatic. Shutting Prim and my mother out of things to shield them," but quickly realizes even Prim can no longer fully rely on Mrs. Everdeen when she tells her, "'You could tell me, you know. I'm good at keeping secrets. Even from Mother,'" (mj). Even prim, sweet innocent prim who cries when Katniss cries, cannot fully rely on her own mother anymore.

By the end of Mockingjay, it is revealed that Mrs. Everdeen has left Haymitch to take care of Katniss back in District 12. Katniss quickly understands what this means as Haymitch explains, "'She's helping to start up a hospital in District Four. She wants you to call as soon as we get in.' My finger traces the graceful swoop of the letters. 'You know why she can't come back.' Yes, I know why. Because between my father and Prim and the ashes, the place is too painful to bear. But apparently not for me," (mj). Katniss acknowledges her mother's trauma, but also understands the hypocrisy of it, as Mrs. Everdeen ultimately lost two daughters in the bombing instead of one. She could not cope with the loss of prim, and so she gave up on Katniss as well, the same way she nearly lost the girls after Mr. Everdeen died.

[atelierlili]

Katniss, Peeta, and the messy in between.

For a while I've been seeing the sentiment of blaming the distance between Katniss and Peeta after the 74th games on Peeta entirely and I think it's rather unfair. It's a messy situation involving two teenagers who are both valid in their feelings at this point in time.

There's multiple things going on at the end of book 1 in regards to Peeta's relationship with both Katniss AND Haymitch that it feel unfair to blame him, when Peeta, like Katniss, more often than not, is the last one to find out other people's intentions/plans, even from his own allies.

Now before I start, I feel like I must preface this by saying I'm not bashing anyone in this analysis so if you're gonna say something rude and mean about my babies, make that U turn cause I aint having it. Also I'm a yapper so this is gonna be really long lol.

It begins on the train tracks. Katniss and Peeta are walking along the tracks when Peeta picks her a small bouquet of wildflowers as Katniss is struggling to convey the kind of danger they are in, while also being paranoid that they're being watched. At this time, she also connects Gale to the wild flowers Peeta has picked for her and its adding her anxiety to the point where she can't even pretend to be happy at Peeta's gift. And that's something he picks up on.

When the train makes a brief stop for fuel, we’re allowed to go outside for some fresh air. There’s no longer any need to guard us. Peeta and I walk down along the track, hand in hand, and I can’t find anything to say now that we’re alone. He stops to gather a bunch of wildflowers for me. When he presents them, I work hard to look pleased. Because he can’t know that the pink and-white flowers are the tops of wild onions and only remind me of the hours I’ve spent gathering them with Gale.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks. “Nothing,” I answer. We continue walking, past the end of the train, out where even I’m fairly sure there are no cameras hidden in the scrubby bushes along the track. Still no words come. -THG - Chapter 27

Its not until Haymitch appears and drop the bomb and bows out that Peeta finally catches on that Katniss and Haymitch are still playing up the lover act without his knowledge.

Haymitch startles me when he lays a hand on my back. Even now, in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down. “Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay.” I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta’s eyes. “What’s he mean?” Peeta asks me. “It’s the Capitol. They didn’t like our stunt with the berries,” I blurt out. “What? What are you talking about?”

“So, what you’re saying is, these last few days and then I guess . . . back in the arena . . . that was just some strategy you two worked out.” “No. I mean, I couldn’t even talk to him in the arena, could I?” I stammer. “But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn’t you?” says Peeta. I bite my lip. “Katniss?” He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance. “It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.”

-THG - Chapter 27

The truth comes out. Uh oh. It seems this star crossed lovers act when on longer than Peeta expected. Granted, I don't recall him or Katniss ever making their status official, but somewhere between the cave and now, Peeta thought both him and Katniss were on the same page about their feelings. He's not wrong for thinking Katniss liked him back, she does, what he didn't account for is Katniss not knowing herself that she liked him back.

I think Peeta learning the truth through Haymitch and not Katniss starts them on the wrong foot. Because she isn't honest with him for a majority of the time in this scene. Yes, Katniss was worried if the capitol could hear them, but even after Haymitch lets them know they can talk freely, she's still isn't 100% honest with Peeta.

Now here comes the big question.

“It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.” “Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding on to my flowers. “Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says. “I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get,” I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none’s forthcoming

I'd be more than happy to dump all the blame on him for being a pissy baby after the revelation if it weren't for that last part at the end.

Peeta's hurt, yes, but he can rationalize that Katniss had to play lovers for the games, but here, right now, he's asking what he should be expecting when they get home. The words aren't there, but the subtext is loud and clear.

This is a confession. I'm hurt. But I still like you. Do you like me? Will we have something when we go home and the cameras are gone?

Katniss gives him her most honest answer yet. She doesn't know. She's confused and she's getting more confused as they get closer to home. And that's it. That's her answer. But it isn't enough.

Peeta explicitly waits for more of an explanation from Katniss. He hears nothing about her thoughts, feelings, fears. He only knows what she tells him. And when he doesn't get it, there's no other way to take it as a rejection.

So now what?

“Well, let me know when you work it out,” he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable. -THG- Chapter 27-

“No, I ate at the Hob,” I say. “But thank you.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, it’s so formal. Just as it’s been every time I’ve spoken to Peeta since the cameras finished filming our happy homecoming and we returned to our real lives. -CF- Chapter 1

The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we’ve had ever since. -CF- Chapter 2

And this is why I feel like it's so unfair to solely blame Peeta for their distance between THG and CF. This distance came from both sides.

Peeta ends Book one asking Katniss to be honest with him once she figures her own feelings out. But she never does. She just picks up her life and tries go back to what it was before the games.

Was he waiting for an answer? How long did he wait? When did he give up and accept that whatever was the 74th was something his mind made up while he lying half dead in a cave?

Katniss has a valid list of a million things that are clouding her feelings for Peeta. We know them because we're stuck in her head. But Peeta isn't. And to be honest, I don't think he ever knows all of them throughout the trilogy.

I want to tell him that he’s not being fair. That we were strangers. That I did what it took to stay alive, to keep us both alive in the arena. That I can’t explain how things are with Gale because I don’t know myself. That it’s no good loving me because I’m never going to get married anyway and he’d just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we’ve just been through? -THG- Chapter 27-

And this isn't a silly little fling for Peeta. He's liked Katniss since forever. Has there been other girls that caught his eye? Yes, maybe, but Katniss Everdeen has always been a soft spot for him.

Now, there is a part of him that now as to wonder WTF was going on in the Games, in the Cave and the Interview that followed after. You know the one, where Katniss cries into his chest, buries her face into his chest and practically sits on him the entire time.

Unlike Katniss, Peeta now has to question everything because the rug has just been pulled from underneath him. Yes, he's aware about the lover act and playing it up for the audience, but he isn't aware that Katniss and Haymitch have some crazy telepathic connection to each other that was guiding how Katniss would act towards Peeta in the games. He was even delirious half the time. How far did that go? When did it even begin? He knew that Haymitch was sending packages to Katniss instead of him.

I'm not making this shit up because it's the one thing that Peeta outwardly expresses frustration at (especially) Katniss and Haymitch.

“This has to stop. Right now. This — this — game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.” “It’s not like that, Peeta —” I begin. “It’s exactly like that!” he yells at me. “I have people I care about, too, Katniss! Family and friends back in District Twelve who will be just as dead as yours if we don’t pull this thing off. So, after all we went through in the arena, don’t I even rate the truth from you?” - CF - Chapter 5 -

So what is the point i'm making here? Oh right. I think Peeta is 1000% justified in withdrawing from Katniss after the train tracks. What else is he suppose to do? This isn't something he can bounce back and recover from right away. Taking a step back is the most mature thing to do in this situation. For his sake and hers.

I dislike the notion that his apology denotes complete wrong doing on his part. He's having a human moment and he navigates it better than most would. Yes, he freezes her out, but he doesn't berate her, blame her or is mean to her. He just fucks off and deals with his own emotions and only shows up to play the perfect boyfriend. (And when he does, he never does it with malice OR resentment, at least to from Katniss' obervation.) What other alternative is there? He's genuinely hurt and I feel like expecting him to be comforting and supportive on and off camera when he's hurting inside to be unfair.

We sympathize with Katniss because we're in her head 24/7. We can get to hear her yearn and pine for Peeta after the train tracks. But Katniss also just doesn't mention her every trying to fix her relationship with Peeta between books. She lets the ice freeze over until Peeta comes back to ofter friendship instead. Yes, she has trauma and more hang ups than the average modern day person, but so does Peeta. Trauma is an explanation, not an excuse. If Katniss is allowed three books to figure out her feelings for Peeta, Peeta should be allowed the in between of Book 1 and 2 to figure out his with Katniss.

There should be more nuance when we look at this point in time where Peeta and Katniss' relationship is estranged. Peeta has a lot of reasons why he might want distance from her and I think it's unfair to blame him for it. From him questioning the games, Katniss and Haymitch's involvement with each other and Katniss non-answer of a rejection to his feelings, there's a lot of things he needs to sort out himself. Yes, she saved his life, but she also doesn't answer a lot of questions he asks of her. Katniss doesn't owe him a relationship for what happened in the games, or even her reasons why she's not ready for a relationship. But in turn, we shouldn't blame Peeta if he personally needs time to pick himself up, to figure things out himself. And this is just one thing on top of the trauma that follows both of them after the games. He also just fucking lost his leg LMAO

[thedelicatearcher]

thedelicatearcher's masterlist

my requests are always open!! if you have any thg character request (blurb, headcanons, one shot, etc), thought or just want to talk about them, my asks are open!! (also i love glee and would write anything about quinn fabray)

sorry if sometimes it takes me a while to respond to my asks, at times my inspiration is a little bit low or uni is killing me, but i will answer them

i looove talking about anything, so pleease don't be afraid to interact with me, i would love to be mutuals :)

THE HUNGER GAMES

Finnick Odair

boyfriend!finnick odair who helps you study for your finals

boyfriend!finnick odair who breaks up with you after seven years together

finnick odair who loves making improvements to your home to make your life easier

finnick odair who loves doting on his partner, but he also loves being doted on back

finnick odair is a sucker for affection from his romantic partner

finnick odair loves knitting and crocheting

finnick odair loves knitting and crocheting with a swiftie gf

finnick odair has a bed full of plushies

finnick odair loves dancing with you on the living room floor

finnick odair x reader who loves animals

modern!finnick odair would be a sucker for romcoms.

modern!finnick odair is a passionate duolingo user

finnick odair and reader going dress shopping

modern!finnick odair loves minions

finnick loves being taken care of when he feels sick

finnick survives the mutt attack but is left with scars

finnick's hair after the rebellion

finnick odair loves showering with his partner

boyfriend!finnick odair and classic maritime romance

modern!finnick odair considers himself a fashion connoisseur

young!finnick had a lemonade stand

finnick odair has nightmares

poet!finnick odair who can’t stop writing about you

boyfriend!finnick odair calls you cupcake

finnick odair loves gifting you flowers with symbolism

finnick odair doesn't want to wear his retainer

modern!finnick odair loves fearless

finnick odair with a musical gf hc

painting finnick's nails

finnick odair loves receiving forehead kisses

modern!finnick odair loves cats

finnick's favorite ice cream

finnick and johanna watching garfield

finnick odair & surprise songs

finnick odair is a hydrated king

finnick has a stanley cup in every color

finnick odair has protective cases

finnick odair & the sims 4

finnick odair had braces as an adult

finnick is an expert at poker

finnick has a spiderman toothbrush

finnick odair loves being the little spoon

finnick odair is an excessive emoji user

finnick odair loves watching cake boss

finnick is a menace playing roblox

finnick gave everyone a kenough hoodie

finnick odair is bad at making pancakes

finnick odair likes going to sleep early

fair dates with finnick

finnick odair fluff alphabet (coming soon!)

finnick odair and what happens after he exposes president snow in mockingjay (coming soon) (requested)

finnick odair with his tattoed gf (coming soon) (requested)

finnick odair and reader who dyes their hair (coming soon) (requested)

finnick odair with a rockstar gf (coming soon) (requested)

Katniss Everdeen

young!katniss everdeen x hyper fem!reader

modern!katniss everdeen loves garfield

katniss finishes the milk and puts it back

katniss has a candy crush obsession

katniss owns tons of scrunchies

Johanna Mason

johanna and finnick watching garfield

johanna mason & character.ai

johanna mason x reader after the rebellion (coming soon!!) (requested)

Peeta Mellark

nothing (yet!)

Haymitch Abernathy

haymitch learns how to braid your hair

Everlark

everlark falls in love in every universe.

katniss and peeta move out of the victor's village after the rebellion

modern!everlark as swifties

modern!everlark and minecraft

peeta proposed to katniss in the lake

everlark & chocolate croissants

everlark & the sims

everlark & ice cream

everlark washing the dishes

roadtrips with everlark

General Headcanons/Blurbs

THG characters and the ttpd songs i think would be their favorites only based on vibes and delusion (i made it before it came out lol)

THG characters and their favorite animated character

THG characters and their favorite animated character (TBOSAS edition)

modern!finnick odair and modern!peeta mellark love water parks

modern!finnick odair would call the property brothers to remodel everlark's home

GLEE

Quinn Fabray

quinn fabray loves snoopy

[anakin-vaders]

The role of Fashion in The Hunger Games saga a brief analysis.

Ok now with the hunger games renaissance we need to discuss the role Cinna plays in the whole series, and the role of fashion in the hunger games. I read this series when I was 11-12 years old, I grew to become a very, very queer fashion designer (I work for drag queens), I didn't think I truly understood how much THG series impacted me until very recently when I saw/read the whole series again. Like yes, Suzanne Collins makes the Capitol this shallow society, putting a real effort in making their citizens be superficial only caring about their looks, looking super extravangant and absolutely disconnected from the suffering of the districts. While their looks are vibrant, large, shimmery, and totally over the top (showcasing their opulence) the way they dress on the districts (specially 12 and 13) is minimalist, modest, the colors are washed, old. Their each other's antithesis. And of course Katniss expects only that from the people of the Capitol (classic Us vs. Them), and when Cinna, whom I think is very queer coded, comes in, and treats her like a human being, she starts to let her walls down, to let herself be guided trough this horrible thing she's got to endure. In the books when Cinna and his team are pampering her, she doesn't see herself as a symbol, she never really wanted to be one, she feels really dehumanized. Her only motivation upon this point is surviving and get back to Prim on her home, she still thinks everything on the Capitol in stupid and unnecessary. It's only when Cinna puts them in this very intricate and thought out looks inspired by their district industry (coal mining) that I think Katniss starts to understand the power of fashion, the power of symbols.

And later in her interview with Caesar we have the infamous red dress that catches fire and that lefts the audience gagged (if any of y'all have been to a drag show you know how amazing a good reveal is). This moment is so important because now fashion doesn't become something merely functional, or oppressive. Fashion is empowering, this moment is Katniss getting confidence in herself, asserting herself over her circumstances thanks to Cinna, thanks to fashion. It's also very brilliant because this is also catered to the Capitol, to the viewers and consumers of the games. One of the first things Haymitch tells Katniss is to make herself desirable, and this totally makes sense, the Capitol now roots for her, relate to her, so that later she can get sponsors and SURVIVE.

On Catching Fire we have another iconic fashion moment, fire is a very present theme for Katniss. She is of course the spark for the rebellion, and when she understood it, the message not only becomes clearer, it becomes a protest against the games, against the Capitol. The way she and Peeta are almost regal their second time on the games, shows how much she's understood the power of fashion, the power of the message it can send. They look like a piece of coal refusing to cool, refusing to stop burning. And this was all Cinna's mind.

And my absolute favorite. The wedding dress, such and iconic moment and dare I say, a pivotal moment for the rebellion. In the books Katniss and Peeta are doomed to keep their fake relationship for PR reasons, so they get engaged, and make their whole wedding (bear in mind they're both 17 ish here) a reality show-esque moment for the Capitol. Even after they've won, they still have to entertain them, a winner can never rest. The districts are never winners. So when Snow decides to make his personal quest that of making Katniss miserable, thus making his All Star version of the games, knowing district 12 only has 1 female winner...oh if that isn't some evil shit. On top of that, he is the one who request she wears her wedding dress to the interview, the dress that symbolizes all she never wanted (get married, have kids, loose her agency, being controlled by the Capitol). Snow does this hopping Katniss feels ALL THAT, and Cinna being the genius designer he fucking is, turns a 180 on it and gets the wedding dress as a façade, he uses the dress as a symbol of the tragic lovers that never got to wed, the wedding the Capitol never got to see because of the games. And it works. It fucking works.

And then, the dress burns up revealing a beautiful black dress with wings, a mockingjay, she literally becomes the rebellion, she embodies the rebellion and all that comes with it. The power of fashion in the middle of an uprising, and how much it strikes the Capitol because it's said in their language. All of these moments were essential in the history because the people on the districts already knew about the injustices, about the hardships of their conditions. But the consumers didn't. And Cinna, trough Katniss made them see that, he took everything that made the Capitol shallow and gave actual meaning to it. And without of all of it, who knows if the rebellion would've gestated as fast.

TL;DR: the hunger games saga made me a fashion designer, and fashion is really important in the story, dare I say it's a really clever use of fashion and Cinna is a FUCKING genius.