#peeta-chip

[daisybeewrites]

that one scene in Catching Fire where Katniss and Finnick are trapped in the wedge with the mutts and Peeta is trying his hardest to be close to her and make her feel safe… literally broke my heart

[stormsandskies]

what if i said i think Gill and Chip do the thing Katniss and Peeta do in the later books where they ask “real or not real” and the other confirms.

Gill can’t remember if the fight with price was real and he’s imagining that chip and jay are still alive or if it was just a nightmare so he asks Chip

Chip dosen’t know if this good thing actually happened to the crew because he’s losing himself in the black sea so he asks

just the two of them confirming that they’re still there, that there is still good left. it’s a small way they can cling to hope

Jay also picks up on it and it becomes a normal thing to ask if something is real or not real after they wake up from a dream or get back from a dangerous journey

[targaryenluvs]

Fluffy married life with peeta? 🥺

SWEET LIKE SUGAR!

pairing: peeta mellark x fem!wifereader

warnings: fluffy af, kisses n hugs - blurbbbb

summary: peeta teaches you how to bake since you’re nowhere near as good as you thought, not that you’d admit it.

a/n: SOMEONE FINALLY RQ FLUFF I LOVE U ANON MWAH

“make sure to wear mitts when you take the other cake out sweetheart.” peeta shouted from down the hallway as you dumped chocolate chips in your mouth, they were out in the open, and as you liked to say-

“if it’s out in the open it’s fair game!”

“y/n that was baby food.”

peeta ran back to the kitchen after freshening up to which you raised an eyebrow, “you can walk yknow, it’s what the normal people of this world do babe.” peeta fake laughed as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, “i know that, but i can’t leave you alone for too long, especially in the kitchen.” the last part of his sentence came out muffled, which definitely peaked your interest, “care to repeat that last part mr y/l/n?”

“y/l/n? am i the woman of the relationship now?” he joked as he bent down to check on the cakes. “well only one of us bakes for a hobby.” peeta feigned shock, clutching his chest. “well one of us has to be able to cook, otherwise we’d starve.” your eyebrows furrowed, “i can cook and bake.”

“anyone can!” peeta smiled as he kissed your temple, but as he turned away his reflection showed him holding in his laughter. “what’s so funny? i can cook! i can do anything!”

ding!

the cake was done and as you slipped on your mitts and side eyed your husband as you took it out. “see? it looks phenomenal, it raised well too!” peeta actually looked impressed, “it looks great y/n/n.”

the two of you clinked your forks as you each took a bite, before promptly spitting it out into the sink and grabbing the detachable water hose.

as peeta checked the cupboards, his eyes landed on a glass jar, with bold writing on the front.

SUGAR

his head whipped to the kitchen island, an identical jar came into view labelled,

SALT

as he laughed and you hid your face inside your hands he couldn’t help but fall more in love with you.

“well even if the cake isn’t sweet, at least you are.

sweet like sugar.”

[mollywog]

I knowww I seem to remember a discussion about Peeta’s “mutt” programming but I can’t find it now … I want all the analysis about how it works and how Katniss is able to snap him out of it … the effect she has …

Ughhhh I spent a stupid amount of time looking for the old reblog chain and came up empty 😩

So let’s do it again!

"Katniss." I jump at the proximity of the sound. Look frantically for its source, bow loaded, seeking a target to hit. "Katniss." Peeta's lips are barely moving, but there's no doubt, the name came out of him. Just when I thought he seemed a little better, when I thought he might be inching his way back to me, here is proof of how deep Snow's poison went. "Katniss." Peeta's programmed to respond to the hissing chorus, to join in the hunt. He's beginning to stir. There's no choice. I position my arrow to penetrate his brain. He'll barely feel a thing.

Suddenly, he's sitting up, eyes wide in alarm, short of breath. "Katniss!" He whips his head toward me but doesn't seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. "Katniss! Get out of here!"

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. "Why? What's making that sound?"

"I don't know. Only that it has to kill you," says Peeta. "Run! Get out! Go!"

After my own moment of confusion, I conclude I do not have to shoot him. Relax my bowstring. Take in the anxious faces around me. "Whatever it is, it's after me. It might be a good time to split up."

The Peeta’s programmed-to-respond idea comes from Katniss, but I don’t know that I agree (though now I have an image of smoke coming out of Peeta’s ears as his chip malfunctions during the stay-with-me kiss)

Peeta jolts awake and his first instinct is to ensure her safety: He isn’t fighting to restrain himself like I image he would be if he was under some programming. It’s more like he was having a nightmare (ooo or premonition?) about the impending danger and he’s trying to pull the information through from sleep to wakefulness.

It’s also interesting to compare this instance of sleep talking to the nightmares he described before:

"Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?" I say.

"I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror," he says.

"You should wake me," I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down.

"It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you," he says. "I'm okay once I realize you're here."

When the danger is real and not just in a dreamscape, Peeta calls out (for his love to flee) and springs to action.

Another thought; This recalled the moment after the rule change

Before I am even aware of my actions, my bow is loaded with the arrow pointed straight at his heart. Peeta raises his eyebrows and I see the knife has already left his hand on its way to the lake where it splashes in the water. I drop my weapons and take a step back, my face burning in what can only be shame.

Also pointing out her choice to aim at the heart/brain in each instance.

But I’d love the Fairytale version of this chapter because it already has true-love’s-kiss breaking ‘the curse’

[ginger-bread-is-good]

CW: this little snippet discusses my thoughts on Everlark's first time, 18+ only

So I'd imagine like everyone else that it's kinda awkward, not uncomfortable but the way you would expect two virgin adults who have gone through lots of trauma to be for their first time.

I definitely do think that it would unlock something in them after their firstime, even with Peeta who would know a little bit more as his brothers described in detail to him what sex is like, still becomes insatiable like Katniss.

I also think she would basically alert everyone in D12 the next morning, people can just tell by the look on her face what went down. The subtle pride on Peetas face is not subtle at all and people either clap him on the back or refuse to look at them.

Along with that I think it's funny to imagine Peeta panicking about Kat bleeding for their first time (I know it doesn't happen to everyone but whatev), and basically running rampant in his mind if he hurt her.

And lastly, the whole of D12 chips in to get Haymitch earmuffs, cos they know these bitches ain't gonna be quiet

[thetypewritingkate]

"at five years." by thesmileykate

"The bread stares back at her. Each roll perfectly rounded, the butter that glistened on their tops long dried out. They practically look the same as when he dropped them off for her. Still, would chip a tooth if she bit into it? Had crust turned cold and hard after a day of neglect or would still carry the warmth of its gifter? The curiosity almost propels her arm forward, reaching toward the bowl. Almost. Instead, she lay there, a statue of her own demise. Ready to rest her exhausted eyes. Ready to face the dead once more."

OR

Katniss is stuck in a deep depression and Peeta's efforts to bring her back to life fail. Of course, he is the reason why she is in it in the first place, so he shouldn't be so surprised.

Read on AO3

[adsosfraser]

always

everlark; post mockingjay; jealous katniss

The roof is leaking. 

The tin bucket rings with the tap tap tap of the evenly spaced droplets. 

The deluge of rain hit hard last night and it has me humming happily, excitement in my chest. 

I’ve always loved thunder. The way it rolls deep within my chest and echoes in the deep old bones of the mountains around us. I would squeal with each clap and reach up to catch it in our Seam home as my daddy smiled from his chipped armchair. We’d play a game of hopping from spot to spot on the floor at each rumble and though his eyes hung in deep dark circles from his shifts in the mines, my father never tired. Then, Prim was born and she was terrified of thunderstorms for a time. 

It’s just one leak in our shiny and spiffy Capitol made home that’s been standing for almost a century now though. Thom and his builders have much more important things on their minds than a tiny leak in our roof. 

Some people still don’t even have roofs. The make-shift canvas of the sturdy tents lining the district hardly constitute roofs. 

When the war began, the Capitol wasn’t quite as invested in the architecture in their dear sweet Victors’ homes. They couldn’t keep up their perfect veneer in District 12 when they obliterated it into the ground. The poor things. 

And besides, a little water didn’t hurt that much. In my father’s home, we had at least ten designated containers to catch the drip of rainfall. 

When I step outside into the morning, the sun is bright and clear in the sky. No trace of the ominous grey and green puffs above remains. The grass is wet and smells of rain. A small trickle of a stream has formed on the gravelly road, opposite our home. At least the geese have been subdued into some semblance of peace because of the storm. 

Peeta had left this morning before the sun even stretched out into the sky. Usually I would already be out in the woods too, or by his side watching him knead dough or wipe sweat off his brow. 

But, I couldn’t settle last night. Even in Peeta’s arms I was restless. And when my eyes finally drooped shut, a nightmare had found me. The giant crash of thunder that split the sky in two in the middle of the night woke me up. In my dreams all I heard were bombs and gunfire. It had reminded me of-

Peeta let me rest in this morning when he heard my grumpy grunt as I shoved my face under the pillows to hide from the sunlight. Not that he let me do anything. But he had gently tucked me back in and left a muffin on my nightstand for when I was ready. 

Part of me wanted to pull him back in by the shirt of his buttoned collar and waste away the day. But even my arms wouldn’t listen to my demands. The bed was so nice and I fell deep into the mattress covered in one of the sheets as Peeta left the fan to run for me. The cinnamon and dill buried deep within the fabric of his side made me feel like I was rocking on a boat, in a lake with gentle rolling waves in my head. 

Besides, we haven't even kissed since he returned to me almost four months ago. At first the chaos of finishing the important parts of the bakery and going through the final touches to get it up and running had us distracted. Now I’m not so sure he wants to kiss me. 

I kick the loose rocks littering my path to the bakery. They skip and hop and fling themselves in the air. One hits another rock and angles itself to launch at someone passing me clear across the street but their back is turned and they don’t even feel it ping off the heel of their boot. I mumble an apology to myself though, and feel the heat of shame caving in on me from every inch of air around me. 

Before I know it, I’m in front of the bakery. It was one of the first buildings up in Twelve. Everytime I see it my heart swells with pride for Peeta. Even though it’s just the bare bones now, I can see its future clear across every brick. The sign hangs proudly over the front. The ‘s’ in Mellark’s is slightly crooked and splotchy because of my shaky hands, but when Peeta began painting it with such excited and reverent hands, he insisted I contribute to at least one part of it. 

Normally, I never enter through the front door of the bakery. The back door has always been home to me in a way. The first time I ever came to the back doorstep, I was sitting tall on my father’s shoulders and happily babbling along to a tune he was singing. He and Mr. Mellark quickly exchanged two squirrels with a respectful nod and I mimicked them which put the trace of a laugh onto the baker’s weathered face.  

Now, I want to surprise Peeta as one of his customers. The bell of the door jingles as I walk through the door. No one mans the front counter so he must be in the back. 

“I’ll be with you shortly.” 

His voice carries through the opening to the room with the ovens and prep tables and my shoulders relax at his calm but steady voice. The way the bakery was built and rebuilt, it’s easy for him to call out to customers without having to yell. My lip twitches up into a soft smile and I pull out one of the chairs dotting the tables around the room. 

His clomping footsteps and another ring of the bell clash together in my mind. I look up to see the new customer, expecting someone from Thom’s crew but I instantly tense up at the sight. 

Her hair is coiled perfectly into ringlets around her face and a big fur coat rests on her shoulders. Her chest is unnaturally large and her bottom even more so. But she’s perfect, right down to her nails. Not a blemish in sight and her blonde hair shines with health and lustre. 

She’s big and pretty.

“Artementia!” 

Peeta’s shout pulls me from my scrutiny of the clearly Capitol woman. His steps are quick as he approaches her and wipes the flour off of his hands onto his apron. 

My head jerks back when he reaches for her across the counter and they embrace. His smile is brilliant and he doesn’t even notice me lurking in the corner. 

“Oh my dear.” They pull back from their hug and that woman kisses both of his cheeks, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. “It’s been far too long.” 

“It really has Artie.” He squeezes her hand. “How have things been for you?” 

“Well why don’t we go and have lunch together? I’m sure you’ll be having your break soon anyway.” 

“It’s just me today, I’m not sure I can just close up shop for my lunch break.” 

“They can survive without you for an hour I’m sure. Just flip your little sign over and we can go to the opening of that restaurant down the street.” 

Peeta’s head turns to the back, searching a long moment for something. When he turns around, it seems he’s already made up his mind. He lets out a sigh before plastering his smile back on for the woman. 

“Well alright,” His hands work swiftly to unknot the apron around his waist and place it on the counter. “Sure wouldn’t want anyone else to give you the grand tour of our pristine district.” 

She places a hand over her chest and lets out a soft laugh and Peeta’s chest rumbles with a short chuckle. 

They walk over to the door, not even glancing my way as Peeta flips the sign on the door over to ‘closed’ and locks the door. Before the door smacks shut behind them, I shove it open and storm past them in the opposite direction. To the woods. 

The rock in my hand scatters to the ground. 

It was pretty and I thought Peeta would’ve enjoyed its smooth surface and swirling brown rings. 

But maybe now it’s not enough to preoccupy his mind with the pretty blood and flesh woman beside him. 

His head whips back to the loud sound of the slamming door and ping of the rock and I quickly turn my face away from his line of vision. 

“Katniss?” His hopeful voice calls out. But I’m already pushing to round the corner of the rebuilt merchant businesses. “Katniss!” 

He can have fun with his gorgeous Capitol woman on his arm. I don’t care. 

I save the grumbling for later though, my mind focuses on the ground below me as my legs carry me in a spring towards the fence. I duck under my spot in the chain-link and snatch up my bow and arrows. 

After the fifth poor squirrel participates in my very important exercise of letting my feeling’s flow for the day, I climb up a strong and tall tree. I lean into the familiarity of pulling myself up its sprawling branches and swinging my body up and up. Reaching for the sky just as its leaves are. 

Have I really lost my dandelion in the spring already? 

Did the hungry storms of last night, and the contrast of the harsh summer sun this morning already wilt it?

He so easily welcomed that woman’s touch. Someone from the Capitol no less. And he’s barely touched me in months. Save our desperate grip on each other as the terrors of the night take over. 

I will not be sharing a town with the woman Peeta so readily shares himself with. 

Instead of rough bark behind my back, I feel the hard arm of a rocking chair digging into my spine. The room is cosy and safe, like Peeta. I feel the sway of my body with the branches of the tree and hug my knees tight to my chest. 

“This baby takes nothing from you Kitty, my heart just has to grow some more. Like my tummy. That’s all.” 

I relax into her arms, feeling the steady beat of her heart where my head lays. Her stomach is fat, nice and cushy. As fat as anyone in the Seam could ever get. She smells pretty. Like the dirt and plants Daddy lets me dig my grubby little fingers into. I feel the song rattle through my chest as she hums to me. My head gets droopy and I curl further into her. Her hands run through my hair and as she rocks our bodies together on the chair, my head clouds with dreams that I can’t touch yet. But I know they’re there. Happy and warm. 

“I’ll always be right here with you baby.” 

Shivering in the downpour I’ve been caught in, I hum the same tune she soothed me to. Without thinking, my body rocks back and forth on the soaked moss and lichen on the limb closest to the ground. If I let my hand hang limp from my side I could probably brush the tops of the chives sticking out near the base with my fingertips. I don’t remember my journey down from the top of the tree, but it must’ve happened somehow. 

I could be crying. I don’t know. The fat raindrops on my face disguise any that may come. 

But it would be hard to disguise the snot squirming its way out of me. I rub my bare forearm under my nose. 

I do what I do best. 

I run. I hide away. And I sulk. 

It doesn’t matter. 

They all leave. 

Even if they don’t want to, they always do. My father and Prim's choice was made for them. I don’t know what’s worse. To have Peeta’s choice made for him or for him to actively choose that I no longer fit into his life. 

Either way, it’s all unbearable to think about. I gasp in sharp breaths and my chest is tight with the pain and fatigue of it all. I feel like I’ve just run the worst marathon of my life, and I’ve never even gone over five miles when training for the Quell put a stick up Peeta’s ass. 

His clomping footsteps alert me to his presence long before I can see his form through the sheets of rain obscuring my vision. Maybe if I tuck further into myself he won’t notice me sitting on the lowest branch of the tree. 

I was never a lucky person though. 

He approaches me slowly, like I would a skittish animal. I tuck my chin into the safety of my knees. Surely he’ll go away if I ignore him hard enough. 

I feel the air move around me as he swings a leg up and over and brings his body to rest on the same branch as me. It’s not without difficulty though, I know his leg still bothers him and can be cumbersome at times. After a quiet moment of him gathering his balance again, he lifts my chin up with his finger. 

I can feel the tear tracks, dry and crusty against my cheeks and I know I look like a drowned rat, or rather a drowned Buttercup from my little pity party under the torrential rain. 

“Oh, Katniss.” Warmth floods through me, all-consuming and relieving as his thumb traces the skin under my eye. “What’s wrong baby?”

My nose stings again as a fresh wave of fat tears fall from my eyes at the nickname. My lip wobbles and I can’t breathe. I try to answer, but everything comes out as a choked sob. Peeta reaches around to wrap his arm around me, rubbing my back in comforting circles. When I finally get the words out, they’re incomprehensible with my stuttering breath, throat full of tears, and snot muffling everything. To anyone but Peeta, who knows me so well, past the need for language. 

“Why doesn’t she want me anymore?” 

“What brought all of this on sweet girl?” 

“You’re leaving me.” 

“Not real.” 

“Maybe not your arms. But you are. Your heart.” 

“Never Katniss.” 

Fat rain drops fall from his delicate eyelashes, leaving behind them a darker shade of blond from the moisture. 

“You’re right here Katniss.” His steady and warm hands take my hand that’s shivering from the cold. He guides it straight over his chest and the comforting thump of his heart beneath warms me more than his coat he wrapped tightly around me does. I blink at his motions, my mind puzzling and patching them together into an attempt at coherency. 

His other hand reaches towards me and he watches me closely for any sign of apprehension in my eyes. I can’t manage any to bubble up in me at the moment. Tentatively, he presses the pads of his fingers against my own chest, speeding up the beat of my own heart along with his under the firm press the palm of my hand has against it. His fingers straighten until the heel of his own hand is flush against my heart. The soaked fabric of my shirt clings to us both from the water of the rain. 

“And I’m right here.” The pitch of his voice sounds at the edge of a question and a statement. 

It’s not fair to him to be stuck with me though, just because he knows I wouldn’t be able to handle it. He deserves someone good and beautiful. Just like him. 

Not a girl scarred from the fire she wore for pageantry and glory. 

“I’m not pretty enough for you. I’m not big enough.” 

“Sweetheart.” 

“I wasn’t enough.” 

“Katniss.” My name breaks on his tongue; he physically can’t even force the muscles to move again, as if the ache in his chest is agonisingly painful from the blow of my words. I understand now. His heart is broken. Like I shot an arrow through him instead of the truth. Maybe I did, the day I sang to the birds in kindergarten and we’re forever tethered now from the invisible line of bow string to arrowhead. 

“I love you.” 

His beautifully made eyes well with tears, glossing the blue over with his pain. My eyes begin to water again, even after I’ve exhausted myself of the hydration required to sustain them. It’s not hard to feel what a man like Peeta feels for yourself, deep in your bones. 

“I came back for you. Back to twelve. Back to myself.”

“It kills me that you think you’re not enough. I’m so sorry I said those words in 13 to you. I know I’ll never be able to take them back. Or the-” He stares at my throat, where his hands once wove together into a nest of fear and pure hatred and I swallow under his gaze. “But I promise Katniss. I will remind you how beautiful and smart and brave and loving you are every single day. You are perfect for me.” 

“But you don’t want me.” 

“I’ve wanted you that way ever since I’ve understood what it meant.” 

But that doesn’t make sense. His constant distance and the sincerity behind his words clash within my mind. My brow furrows and my face deepens into a scowl.  

“Show me.” 

His eyes drag from their connection with mine, down to my lips. He looks back to me and his eyes widen with an emotion I’m all too familiar with. 

“I’m afraid.” 

“What?” 

“I’m afraid I won’t stop Katniss. They changed me. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“So don’t stop. You’re my Peeta. No matter what.” 

The kiss is gentle and sweet and I pull my body back against the rough bark, forcing him to lean into me even more. I cradle him between my thighs and smile against his lips. They taste like a fresh burst of blueberries on my tongue and my smile widens at the thought of him sneaking his own fresh muffin from the bakery’s supplies. The way his lips slide against mine, slick with the torrent of rain that assaults us is new and exciting. To consume the very rain itself off of his lip makes my chest flutter at the fact that not even the rain will get the chance to touch him that way so long as I remain in this embrace. 

He shifts slightly against me and I immediately panic at the feel of him in that way. My body stiffens straight under him and he pulls back from my lips with a sheepish grin. 

There’s an apology in his clear eyes but I won’t have that. I speak before his mouth can form the words.  

I blurt out in a pant. “I like kissing you.” 

I tuck my head into his shoulder to hide the blush that crosses my cheeks. But it’s too late. He’s already seen it if the dopey smile on his face is any indication. 

“I like kissing you too.” His lips find the small space of skin by my hairline that isn’t hidden. 

I scoot closer to him and burrow into his chest. 

And that motion was a big mistake. Or maybe the best mistake I’ve made today.

We both carreen down into the cushion of soft grass below us when I push Peeta off-balance. A giggle bursts from my mouth unbidden as I land mostly on top of him. His body bears the brunt of the fall but he seems completely fine and a goofy grin crosses his face. He leans up to me and my heart flutters when he pulls me in for another short, sweet kiss. I nestle my knees around his hips and pull back from him with a smile. 

I reach my hand to his ear and tuck a wisp of blond back behind his ear. The kisses and our proximity have made me bolder. Bold enough to interrogate him. “What is your little blonde girlfriend going to think about this?” 

He sits up to bring his upper body off the damp ground and my body follows him. 

“Who?” 

I roll my eyes at him. I hold a hand to my chest and bat my eyelashes at him. “Oh Peeta it’s been far too long.” 

“So that’s what this was all about. You were jealous?” 

“No.” I scowl, crossing my arms tight over my chest. 

“Katniss, she’s old enough to be our mother. Maybe even our grandmother.”

“Hmm.” My eyebrow twitches. “Maybe you’re into that sort of thing.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around my waist, deliberately lower than where they were last time. He looks into my eyes for any sign that he’s gone too far but I won’t give him any. With a light pressure, he squeezes my backside tentatively with a wolfish grin, as if he’s just gotten away with stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar. 

“What I’m into is what I have my hands full of right now.” 

“But seriously Katniss, she saved us from the bombing in the Capitol after I tried to drag you away. She visited us both but I was the only one awake when she did.” His eyes are tender as he brushes a sopping wet piece of hair off of my collarbone. “It’s only ever been you my darling girl.” 

“And it only ever will be?” 

“Always.”

[sunishai]

If you're the number one rat lover, then name all rats

Im so sorry

Iris

Roxy

Bagel

Biscuit

Bun

Wilhelm

Hazel

Momo

Nusha

Niffy

Flora

Fauna

FInni

Shadow

Luke

Maalu

Kaleo

Billy

BebiPilch

Boo

Mamemoko

Kimichi

Pancheta

Mofeta

Nacho

Chilli

Taco

Salt

Pepper

Brisby

Shera

Leïa

Furiosa

Uhura

Ripley

Beatrix

Motoko

Alita

Jolyne

Cherry

Elettra

Peeta

Robb

Magnus

Remy

Riley

Tav

Léo the first

Léo the second

Splinter

Ratatouille

Oreo

Illidan

Runa

Rui

Sen

Ruby

Zero

Robi

Robin

Zoro

Rupie

Foxy

Douglas

Carlos

Balloo

Anomaly

Anchovy

Churro

BEEFCAKE

Mirtes Mirtilos

Gemea

Pequena

Ben

Zelda

Hilda

All these guys ⬆️

These guys too ⬆️

Aisha

Dayton

Haru

Leaf

Basil

Sesame

Eve

Gurkis

Tom

Jerry

Tsukutsun

Velour

Mac

Tony

Wonton

Mr Jingles

Fulmine

Argo

Tofu

Chip

Kolumbus

Petro

Blueberry

Nugget

Janette

Leya

Suślica

Diana

Rai

Wubbzy

Po

Kopi

Harry

Chase

Pepper

Peach

Daisy

Omg so many ⬆️

My fingers hurt ⬆️

Fien

Noor

Mia

Remy

Diana

Sushi

Bambi

Dino

Max

Kompis

Limpan

Ozzy

Willow

Sadie

Juno

Freya

Poe

Ralphy

Max

Emmet

Stevie

Harrison

Harrington

Oreo

Billy

Pumpkin

Wilbur

Goose

Templeton

Pepi

Tusya

I can’t type this ⬆️

Lizzie

Jules

Winky

Agent R

Ducky

Petrie

Tulin

⬆️

Levon

Sebastian

Rupert

Garth

Otis

Ringo

Algernon

Wilfred

Ethan

Oliver

Nigel

My phone is getting rlly laggy so I gotta stop 😭

[dovahkiining]

[id: tags from @willotstreet that read as follows: "THIS IS THE REALEST. THIS MATTERS SO MUCH. Ava being a former victor... Jay's name being called and EVERYONE is looking at her. She takes it with so much pride until she and Chip actually get to talking. she learns more about him. Suddenly the bastard from the other side of the district is a person. even a friend. When she receives a sponsor package from the capitol. A beautiful bow. A fiery orange with a pearlescent grip, she flicks the string and imagines it releasing an arrow into Chip's neck as Chip sleeps next to her. She runs to the river to throw up." end id.]

GRABS YOU. YEAH. EXACTLY. see, see I was imagining ava not as a victor, but as someone who died in the games. in a similar situation, too. someone who should've won, likely. who deserved it over the actual victor. or that's what jay thinks, as she watches her sister turn her back and get a knife into her ribs for it. ava didn't live. so when jay gets called, she knows she will. she'll win for ava. she won't fall into the traps of false care and friendship because—that's all it is. false. and then she's forced to confront the fact that this irritable boy she's teamed herself up with... is just that. a boy. one with a missing tooth and awful jokes. and she'd say, if anyone ever asked, that her laughter was just to add onto the ruse of it all. that she was lulling him into the false sense of security. she imagines it time and time again, stabbing a knife into his throat and watching the blood pool. she doesn't understand why, the closer she gets to the end, the more nauseous it makes her. in the end, ava died due to her trust. in the end, jay lived because of hers. you know.

stands up and grabs the mic. hey jrwiblr have we considered a riptide thg au please let me know

[ask-hutcherverse]

What are the groups’ favorite cookie flavors? Mike I’m sure is classic chocolate chip. Or peanut butter chocolate chip 🍪 I really hope Peeta makes them a batch—

mike sits down, the camera showing all of the hutchersons on the big couch that has become a sort of hub for answering questions.

mike starts. “yeah, you basically hit the nail right on the head.” he laughs a bit. “peanut butter chocolate chip is my favorite. i could eat an entire box of those.”

“i like gingerbread— but only without frosting.” futturman looks up from his 3ds. “with frosting is too sweet, in my opinion.” he shrugs with a smile.

“sugar cookies are my favorite!” clapton grins. “especially when they have the sugar grains topping on top.” he snaps his fingers.

“i don’t like cookies.” derek says, sort of annoyed. “too sweet.”

“you’re just a party pooper, dude.” futturman looks at him.

“i like fine dining. you know, like a sane person?” derek claps back.

“um—“ peeta butts in, probably to stop futturman and derek from getting into a full-fledged fight. “my favorite is in between snickerdoodles and oatmeal raisin.”

everyone looks at him when he says ‘oatmeal raisin.’

“what?” he shrugs.

(the video ends.)

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

This or That: Everlark Edition II

Katniss has a pouty mouth or very thin lips

Peeta has a chipped tooth or a birthmark on his shoulder

Katniss has big eyes or thick, thick hair

Peeta reopens his family’s bakery or becomes a full time artist for his enjoyment only

Katniss biter or Peeta hair puller

Peeta is under 5’6 or over 5’10

Is Peeta a butt or boobs guy

Who initiates their first time?

She has a supremely middle of the road sized mouth. No one would use either of those adjectives to describe her lips.

Chipped tooth or birthmark? This is actually the most difficult one for me to answer because with two older brothers and an abusive mom, the chipped tooth is highly plausible to me. But also… the kind of expensive dentistry required to fix that makes me think no, because if it were visible, I feel like Katniss would’ve remarked on it at some point to give us insight on Peeta’s home life. So I guess I’ll say birthmark??

Thick hair.

I think he reopens the bakery but it’s not necessarily just a family operation anymore, nor is it treated primarily as a source of income. Trades are welcome in the storefront, not out of the back door. Goods are sold just high enough above cost to make sure his district employees have a decent wage. I do think he paints frequently as well, but not as a full time thing. I always imagine that since only seven of them survived, the victors still get some kind of compensation from the government, but not nearly as much as it was before the war, and they can choose to opt out of it. Still, I can’t see Peeta retreating from being part of their community, and that usually takes the shape of, among other things, reopening the bakery in my head.

Uh… both, Anon. Both. Katniss is definitely known to nibble playfully on Peeta or to sink her teeth in somewhere fleshy when she’s in the midst of passionately losing control. Same idea for Peeta. He absolutely tugs on her hair to tease her or be playful. In bed, yes there’s some hair pulling, but no hair yanking, if that makes sense?

I always imagine Peeta at right around 5’10”, maybe a hair under in canon. In an au I usually place his height at right at or just over 5’10”

This is deliberate legs and belly and shoulder erasure anon.

Their first time isn’t initiated by one person in my head. By the time their first time happens, they both want it so much but have been holding back to make sure the other person feels the same way. So it happens later than it probably could have happened. To me, their first time is almost a conversation. They work their way towards it together.

[allisluv]

🟡 anon says: jo adores frosting. the woman will sneak into peeta's house/bakery at 2am to eat containers of it and not feel a single ounce of guilt. katniss discovered her once and was so tired she convinced herself she was hallucinating and went back to bed. finn tells her she has an addiction but she replies with 'finnick, you eat like you're 60. your favourite baked good is fruit cake and that thing is fucking disgusting, it's more sugar than anything else. shut the fuck up.' she won that one.

vanilla frosting is her favourite because she needs to be in a specific mood to eat chocolate. she'll also eat the packets of chocolate chips on their own and peeta starts setting mice traps because he doesn't know where all his food supplies are going 😭

[triassictriserratops]

Rebel Heraldry of the Mockingjay

I have this idea that The Mockingjay was a symbol of the rebellion and was likely used in the Capitol to denote undercover operatives long before Katniss came onto the scene. What we know: 1.) Mockingjays are an unintended byproduct of the Capitol through the mating of their lab created muttation, the Jabberjay, and the local Mockingbird. 2.) The Mockingjays mimic sounds and vocalizations (not words, but cadence and song, yes.) 3.) After Katniss is reaped, Madge Undersee gives Katniss a gold Mockingjay pin. We later find that this pin belonged to Maysilee Donner, Madge's aunt who was a fallen tribute in the 2nd Quarter Quell and a district partner and games ally to Haymitch Abernathy. 4.) Recycled background footage of the ruins of District 13 included a shot of a Mockingjay in the corner of the screen. 5.) After the war, Plutarch was appointed to Secretary of Communications. Meaning that he is in charge of televised programming. 6.) The rebellion/mentors used bread as a form of communication during the Quarter Quell. The District bread representing the day and the number of loaves representing the hours. 7.) Bonnie and Twill showed Katniss a wafer/cracker with the Mockingjay symbol stamped into it. Speculations I have made considering the above: 1. & 2.) The rebels used the mockingjay to send coded messages to each other through song. Songs like "The Hanging Tree" being a call to arms, a warning, or an echolocation tactic. Rue mentions using the mockingjays to signal to the workers that their shift is over. Peeta remembers hearing Mr. Everdeen sing to the mockingjays. Mrs. Everdeen was absolutely furious when she learned that Mr. Everdeen had been singing this song in front of their daughters. All of this leads me to believe that the mockingjays were co-opted by the rebellion to communicate with each other where they otherwise would have been unable to. There is plenty of evidence in human history of music being used as a code. So none of this seems unlikely. 3.) Madge, likely knowing SOME of the history of the mockingjay given her father's status as Mayor gives this pin as a sign to Haymitch. She's cashing in her chips for Katniss in the hopes that this message gets to whoever it needs to in order to help her. Madge places a HUGE importance on Katniss wearing the pin right away. Even going as far as pinning it to Katniss' dress herself. This makes me believe that The Mockingjay symbol didn't become important because of Katniss. It was ALREADY important, and Madge was COUNTING on that. Later we learn that Rue specifically trusted Katniss because of the pin. I wonder if in District 11 especially, the Mockingjay is connoted with trust, safety, freedom, and hope. This could be an interpretation passed down from the First Rebellion and the Dark Days that has loosely made it's way into Rue's generation as just a generic symbol of "good" 4. & 5.) During the Victor rescue mission of Peeta, Johanna, and Annie, we learn from Haymitch that undercover operatives within the Capitol will likely have their covers blown as a result. This tells me that there are likely significantly more people in the Capitol that were part of the Resistance than we are aware of. I believe that there were likely already people undercover within the airwaves that Plutarch eventually took over. I do not think that the continued use of the District 13 footage with the mockingjay was an accident or an error. I believe it was completely intentional and was a message to the right audience that District 13, and the Rebellion, was still active, if laying low. It is no coincidence that both Bonnie and Twill, and Lavinia and the boy she was with, were all likely heading to District 13. That was the intended purpose of the footage. A sign to all possible refugees that District 13 wasn't as "gone" as it was made out to be.

6. & 7.) I believe that the districts and the rebellion always used consumables, specifically bread, to send messages along with mockingjay calls. Katniss says in Catching Fire, "Real rebels don't put a secret symbol on something as durable as jewelry. They put it on a wafer of bread that can be eaten in a second if necessary." On bread they could print symbols, simple messages, use parts of the bread to denote date/time. Use the "lines" in the bread to create rudimentary location maps. I theorize that Katniss' parents generation had their own, low level rebellion. Enough to necessitate a harder life of non-rare whippings than what Katniss grew up experiencing. "Don't worry." says Haymitch. "Used to be a lot of whipping before Cray. She's the one we took them to." "So it's starting again?" she says. "Like before?" This next part is heavier speculation so take it with a large grain of salt. I think that some of the trades between the Baker and Mr. Everdeen could have been coded messages regarding secret meeting locations and times. The purpose of these visits could have been forwarned with the mockingjay song, as stated above. (leading to the memory of Peeta seeing him sing to the mockingjays outside of the bakery) As a trader, Mr. Everdeen could have easily been the conduit to pass the message along to multiple people without drawing overt suspicion. I have more thoughts about how the mine explosion that killed Katniss and Gale's fathers was likely intentional and a way to subdue the hints of uprising that had been brewing in District 12. But that's for another day.

[thesunpersists]

WIP Wednesday

Hello hellooo, it's been a while since I managed to do one of these!

Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

I may have missed the deadline for the October round of THG Comment Feast (go check out all the stories!) but it doesn't mean I'm not writing a Halloween story! 👻

“Why are you giving Peeta a hard time?” Annie emerges from the kitchen with a bowl of chips under one arm. “What’s wrong with his costume?” Johanna pulls a face. “It is less what he is wearing and more why he is wearing it. He is just pathetic, really.”

Tagging: @mollywog @atelierlili @groceryreceipts @unnamednarrator @notsocooljess

[zqmbiescorpse]

GLADIATOR, PART 1

johanna mason x female reader

a/n: i'm listing tags below because they give a good description, include important information and this was originally intended for ao3. for the first part and for some of the second, johanna isn't there because i wanted to do some world building and you, the reader, has somewhat of a backstory and a last name but this is not at all a self insert i promise.

summary: after winning the 72nd hunger games, quite a name had been made for you in the capitol - quickly becoming a favourite across panem. because of this, naturally, you find yourself thrown back into the horror of the games due to the 3rd quarter quell, representing district 5 one last time. though, not all is lost, fellow tribute and close friend, johanna mason of district 7, finds herself in the same position.

tags: graphic depictions of violence (sometimes), johanna mason, katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, finnick odair, johanna mason x female reader, catching fire, mockingjay part 1, mockingjay part 2, 72nd hunger games, 75th hunger games, gore, eye gore, detailed descriptions of eyeball squishing, disabled reader, female reader, reader is missing an eye, reader is missing limbs, missing fingers, traumatic events, blood, choking, johanna mason needs a hug, rebellion, slow burn, mutual pining, scared of feelings, fluff, angst, making out, kissing, confessions, peeta has his prosthetic leg, maybe smut idk, tension, awkwardness, wlw, i love johanna so much

warnings for this part: gore, detailed descriptions of eyeball squishing (i'm sorry), murder, traumatic events, choking, suffocation, stabbing, blood (tbf it is the hunger games)

wordcount: 1.01k

(part 2) (masterlist)

Weapons long disregarded, tossed away into the sand, leaving you both unarmed - only your fists, or what you had left of them, could be used to beat the other to death. He was bulky, and taller than you. Still, you managed to have him pinned to the floor once more, with your hands wrapped tightly around his neck, slowly crushing his windpipe. You hated every second of it, the fear in his wide eyes looking up at yours, a disturbed red creeping into the whites.

Your grip wasn't as tight as it could've been, with only eight fingers, the middle and index missing on your right hand, your dominant hand. Hell, the pinky on your left was hanging on by what must have been a thread, only a red string of skin. You decided it was seven fingers remaining, desperately thinking of anything else aside from the spluttering boy beneath you. He was so close to death, you knew it and so did he. 

With nothing else to save himself, the male district one tribute reached for your head, both his dirty, grazed hands placed on either side. They were large, nearly covering your entire face, and undoubtedly strong. You became more panicked, unsure of what he was going to do next, however, as you attempted to apply even more pressure to his neck, he also began to squeeze.

An eruption of agony shot through the right side of your skull, his thumbs burying deeper and deeper into your eye. For a brief moment, your grip weakened due to the unbearable burning sensation coming from the socket, which had been invaded by the boy's chipped fingernails, stabbing and squishing at your eye. This gave him enough of an opportunity to sit upright, gaining back control of the brawl, continuing to push even harder; really just digging his thumbs in as hard as he possibly could.

You were screaming now, the sounds causing your throat to feel sore and rough, though, how could it compare to the searing pain you felt elsewhere? Your eye was well out of place, edging forever inward, your vision on the right side now completely black, blinded. He started to scream too, echoing those of a primal being on a path to victory after suffering through a tormenting battle. The force was so intense you began to feel an uncomfortable sensation build up rapidly besides the excruciating pain; your eyeball was going to pop. Burning hot blood was gushing down the side of your face, running down all over your fellow tribute and falling down into his mouth, coating his teeth and his tongue with a thick red ooze. 

You couldn't take it anymore, removing your hands from him in a desperate attempt to save whatever mush would be left in your socket in hopes of a salvage. Unfortunately for you, reaching up to claw at your own eye left you perfectly vulnerable and open. With one last push, he stuck his fingers as far as he could, such an immense amount of force you could've sworn the boy was moments away from crushing your skull - poking and prodding at the sensitive nerves within your damaged socket.

Another strangled screech violently came from within you as you felt a squelching burst trigger pure anguish, wet tears and warm blood trickling together down your face - mixing together to cause a disgusting mess. Too absorbed in the torturous suffering, you failed to remember the other blood thirsty tribute still present, who was now preparing to finally take your life.

You stumbled back, a new sense of disorientation upon you as you tried to put distance between yourself and the approaching Grim Reaper, the boy taking his time getting closer, a weird expression contorting into his features; the realisation that he was enjoying this made you crumble. Shuffling backwards frantically, one hand digging through the sand, the other glued to where your eye should be whilst the crimson substances flowed between your three fingers at an unstoppable pace.

So much pain. So much exhaustion.

The whole fight had been intense and raw, seemingly going on for hours. Scrapes and gashes littered your frail, disfigured body and your bones ached beyond belief. If that smug fuck hadn't made his way towards you any quicker, your chances of bleeding to death were a lot higher than dying by his hands. It deeply disturbed you how that same boy was powerless beneath you just minutes ago, terrified and so desperately wanting for his life. Then, there he was, smiling like a lunatic, caught up in the victory that hadn't yet arrived - seeming overjoyed to witness your suffering.

An early celebration, indeed. Part of you, at that moment, thanked any higher power you could think of, eternally grateful that the Careers couldn't help but be arrogant assholes who view themselves as undefeatable kings and queens. In the time wasted by the boy from district one strolling his way over to you, you had managed to come across your weapon, a long sort of sickle, sticking out of the sand not too far behind you.

You waited, fingers twitching at your side. You didn't want to reveal the weapon concealed by your back at the moment, but rather, let the foolish boy get closer. He should've ended you when he had the chance.

Mustering all the strength you had left, you ignored the throbbing that was pounding against your skull and swiftly grabbed the curved sword, hand tight around the handle as you lunged forward, knocking the tribute back down into the sand - beneath you for the final time.

Not an ounce of hesitation prevented you from what would soon haunt your every thought. At that time, you had no needs other than the one to end this, every sensation in your body numb, apart from a blazing desire in the pit of your stomach. The sharp blade plunged deep into his chest over and over and over again until the cannon boomed in the far distance, signalling his death. You had won. 

[sweetpee-ta]

Cherished Comfort

In the quiet dawn of Victors Village, the stillness of the morning was a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within me. The familiar ache clawed through my abdomen, the sharp reminder of normalcy in a world that had been anything but. As I peeled back the white sheets—a luxury that still felt foreign—I cursed under my breath at the sight of blood.

Peeta, still lost in the remnants of sleep, murmured from beside me, his voice laced with the haze of dreams. I slid out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and made my way to the bathroom. The cold tile was a harsh welcome as I doubled over, clutching the porcelain sink. The groan that escaped me was muffled by the sound of Peeta stirring in the next room.

"Katniss?" His voice was sleepy but edged with concern as he called out. The shifting of the quilt and a quiet thud told me he'd encountered the unexpected stain.

"In here, Peeta," I managed to say, my voice tight with pain.

The sound of him attaching his prosthetic was swift, a testament to his ever-present readiness to aid me. He appeared in the bathroom doorway, worry etching his features. "Katniss, where are you hurt?"

I shook my head as he fumbled with the first aid kit he grabbed from the mirror cabinet. "Peeta, that's not going to help," I said softly, the embarrassment creeping up my neck.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "I... okay. Just tell me what you need."

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. It was absurd how such a natural process could bring so much discomfort, both physical and emotional. "Peeta, I'm on my monthly period," I finally confessed, the words almost a whisper. "I'm fine, really. I'll clean the sheets in a bit." Even as I said it, I knew there was no need to beat around the bush; he would have learned about this in school, just like I did. "I just need to shower quickly."

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but his concern didn’t waver. "Of course. But I'll take care of the sheets. Don't worry about it," he said quickly, already moving out of the bathroom to strip the bed. "What else do you need, baby?" Recently, Peeta had started peppering his speech with endearments, a new habit since we began sharing a bed and exchanging chaste kisses after he returned to Twelve. Each time he called me something tender, it sent a warm flush through me, making me blush despite the frequency of his affectionate words. It was a sweet addition to our slowly unfolding intimacy.

"Can you get me some pain relief pills from the downstairs cabinet? And maybe something to eat with it? Nothing big," I requested softly. Holding the sheets, Peeta returned to the bathroom and leaned in close, his baby blue's radiating concern and affection. I found myself lost in their depths, so full of love and care.

"Of course," he murmured. He leaned in to kiss my cheek gently, his touch a soothing balm.

Once he left, I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my aching body. When I returned to the bedroom, the sight of fresh sheets and the faint smell of Peeta on his pillow were unexpectedly comforting as I lay down.

He came back with a tray laden with more food than I had asked for: a tall glass of orange juice, thickly sliced bacon, scrambled eggs, and fluffy pancakes stuffed with both blueberries and chocolate chips, drenched in maple syrup and butter. Just the way I liked it. The care he put into every detail was visible, his eyes searching mine for approval or perhaps forgiveness for assuming he could fix everything with food.

"Thank you so much, Peeta. You didn't have to do all this," I said, overwhelmed by his kindness.

"It's the least I could do. I just want to take care of you," he replied, his smile gentle and reassuring. He extended his hand, offering me the pain medication along with the glass of orange juice. I accepted them gratefully.

His presence, the meal, and his unwavering care made the pain recede, if only for a moment. "Help me eat some of this, please?" I asked, returning his smile.

"If you insist," he chuckled, reaching for the bacon and joining me in a quiet breakfast that felt like the most natural thing in the world. Despite the chaos that had once threatened to consume us, this simple domestic scene was a poignant reminder of our survival and the new life we were building together.

As he sat beside me, I couldn't help but think that no matter the trials, having Peeta by my side made everything bearable. He was my anchor, my unexpected gift in a world that had taken so much. I knew then that I would spend every day trying to deserve the love he so freely gave.