#tag: i read thg (finally)

[diddlesnap]

The Hunger Games but make it an early 2000s shoujo manga

[favroitecrime]

like i can’t stop thinking about mockingjay’s ending and i’m curious to see how they translated it to the big screen but my friend and i were talking and as incomplete as it maybe feels i wouldn’t want an unrealistic happy ending. because realistically, this is the happiest either of them is ever gonna get. the tragedy and trauma BOTH katniss and peeta had to endure is incomprehensible and at only 17. what other ending COULD there have been? as many loose ends as you wish were tied up, the reality is this is the best that you’re gonna get. the best to expect because wars aren’t perfect stories and loose ends are never fully tied and i think how coldly it ended (sort of) fully captures some of the key themes and message suzanne wanted to hammer into her audience. this was never a happy story, just a necessary one in a way.

[devildogdemon]

@atelierlili There will be no stopping here! You have your brilliant mind and gorgeous art to blame for this meadow of dandelions sprouting all over my brain 🥰

Howl's Moving Castle Crossover.

My favourite blonde and brunette couple as my other favourite blonde and brunette couple??

Mostly because Book Peeta pulling off Howls' iconic "That's my girl" lives rent free in my head.

[wonderlandwalker]

Remember | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: The capitol has taken you from him, but he won't let them keep you. You can find pt. 2 here!

Content Warnings/Tags: Violence, bullet wounds, major character injury, blood, needles, angst, fluff, no use of y/n

Word Count: 4.0k

Requested by Anon: omg I love your writing and I have an unhealthy addiction to reading angst so could you please write something about the reader being with peeta and Johanna when they where taken by the capital and her being with finnick and recovering while she’s in district 13? 🫶🫶

A/N: The way I smiled when I saw this request I swear. This one has been in the works for a little while and I thought it fit perfectly. It is angst you ask for and it is angst you shall get. I'm considering writing a part two but I'm not sure how to yet. My bad habit of not proofreading happened again and with this one especially it was way too long so if I made any major errors pls do let me know.

The Capitol.

You are currently in the Capitol.

At least that’s where you think you are. You remember being in the arena, you remember running towards the general direction you last saw Finnick, remembering the marks you had gone by in case you had to take a different route. You remember seeing Finnick's face through the plantation, you’d be able to recall those features anywhere. You remember something hitting you from behind and falling to the ground, too caught up in catching up with him to check your surroundings. You remember crying out in pain, hoping he’d hear you. But the next thing you remember is the vision of him slowly going out of focus and losing consciousness not long after. 

At least that's what you think happened.

At least you can still remember, that’s worth something right? You remember your past, and you remember the reaping that led to the arena. The flood of relief that went over you as you finally found your way back to him. You don’t know what happened to Finnick, he was there too after all, but you had needed to split up early. Maybe he had been caught off guard too. Maybe he escaped. Maybe they never even found him. Maybe with him being the idiot he could be, he was probably already on his way here, looking for you. Just like you would have done for him, and he would have called you an idiot then too.

You would get out of here one way or another, that much you knew, but you needed to remember more, you needed to remember the last look on his face, you hadn't had much time to take it in, but you remembered the furrow of his eyebrows, the same expression he always had when he was trying to concentrate, you needed to remember that.

You knew that once you did get out of here, Finnick would be furious, telling you that you had been reckless, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, shortly after telling you how worried he had been. And it would feel like coming home.

Your mind becomes hazier, and it is harder to remember. You feel your head throbbing, and you move your hand towards it until you feel it can move no further. You open your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light that covers the room. You can't see much, can't move your head much.

You remember the rendezvous point you had talked about. You remember the quick “don't get yourself in trouble” and the kiss he gave you right before you parted ways.

You remember the layers of plants and trees you moved through, seeing some of them cut down, letting you know someone else had been there

But you know there is more, more that you missed. The stomped-out ashes that you ran past, you know you should have paid closer attention. But you can’t remember

You need to remember what happened. How you got here. Who got you here. If you really are in the capitol. But your mind doesn't want to cooperate anymore. The room is getting darker and darker, even though the lamp above your head is still dutifully buzzing

You wake up, you still remember where you are, or at least where you think you are. You still remember yesterday, was it yesterday? Why couldn't they just hang a clock in here? 

You look up, and you see a device set up, not too far from where you're lying down. You try to get a better look but the light above your head is too blinding to see anything else in the room. You don’t fully understand it until a man walks into the room with a video camera in his hand and an expression on his face that seems just a tad too happy. 

The camera starts blinking a red light, signalling you that it has started recording. The man has a sort of laser that he presses into your lower stomach, it doesn't breach your skin but it hurts like it does. It takes all your energy not to show him the satisfaction of it.

“Come on now darling, work with me a little.” He says after a while, changing the setting on the laser. The last bit of your energy is gone, and you can't keep the screaming from escaping any longer. It echoes off the white walls around you and when you hear yourself, you barely even recognize it. He seems satisfied with the result and finally puts the laser down. You look down but don't see any burn marks or indication of what has just happened.

He comes closer and you can see he is holding a sort of crowbar, but you're not sure why. You remember how you always left one outside your window in the districts, in case the wind had shut it and you needed to sneak back in. You remember Finnick finding out, giving you a serious, disappointed look, but not telling you to stop.

Before you can think of anything else, the bar hits you with full force, right above the spot he was previously focused on. You didn't expect it, and it knocks the little breath you had left out of your lungs. He hits again, not in the same spot, but close, he is very clearly aiming for your ribs. The switching between high-tech and old-school weapons has you puzzled, but you can't deny the result either of them has.

After a while, he stops, and with the added difficulty and pain that now comes with breathing, you are more than certain he just bruised a few of your ribs.

He walks back, taking the camera in his hands. He aims it at your face and you close your eyes to try and collect yourself as much as your current state allows. Your hair is a tangled mess and you are rather certain there is blood smushed over your face from the cuts you got in the arena. 

“Smile for the camera sweetheart.” He asks, even though it sounds more like an order than a request. You open your eyes to look at him. He is so close, and you want to drive your thumbs so far into his eye sockets you can feel the front lobe of his brain, if he even has one. But you can't do anything, no matter how much you want to fight, you are powerless here. You close your eyes again, trying to block everything out and remember.

You remember District Four, the way the light summer breeze would always carry the smell of the beach to your house, no matter how hard you had it, it always livened you up. You remember the first time Finnick tried to teach you how to surf, being so gentle with you no matter how many times you fell off it, always there to catch you again. You remember your last birthday, well, the day after, but you couldn't even complain about that. He had picked you up from your place and brought you to one of the lakes with him. He told you the story of one of his birthdays when he was younger, along with all the embarrassing details, but of course, it only endeared him further to you. You told him about the presents you got and all the people who came to wish you a happy birthday. You told him everything you could remember. You remember last seeing his face, maybe it was the last time you will have ever seen it. No. No, you remember it, but you’ll see it again, you have to.

“I’ll make sure your loverboy gets to see this, wherever he is, wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun.” 

Finn. Finnick. You remember Finnick. You remember when you returned from your first games. The black eye and broken arm you came home with. You remember how he lost it when they didn't immediately treat you for it. He would now either throw a fit over it for everyone to see or be so stoic in his thoughts even Johanna would get a little concerned.

You see the man standing up, walking to the table, and picking up something new. A syringe, it's a syringe. He walks over and pushes it into your upper arm, and before you know it, your vision turns black again.

You remember waking up to gunshots, and you panic. But after a few seconds, you figure out they’re not near you. There is, however, someone in the room with you, it's the same man again. He looks a little panicked, but you can’t figure out why just yet. The gunshots are becoming louder, and closer, and he seems more startled now. His arms drop to his sides from what he was doing and his eyes widen. Screams are echoing and you can hear footsteps.

You remember that pattern of paddling feet, and you recognize the second pair of steps too, but you can't remember much else.

The man gets closer to you, placing his hand over your mouth, pulling out a gun with his free hand and telling you to stay quiet. You never understood why people say that, it means he has something to lose, and you want to scream out, but your voice doesn't remember how to.

It's even closer now, right outside the door, and you can hear talking. You remember his voice. How he always asked you so sweetly how your day had been, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you fell asleep. 

You hear the door jiggle, and it makes you want to scream out for him, but your sore throat won't let you. For a moment you think that is it, you had your chance, and you let it go by. He’ll move along the hallway to the other doors and leave you here. But then you hear another gunshot, and they must have shot the lock, because right after you hear someone running into the door with an echoing thump as it breaks open. 

The man next to you had his gun pointed at the door, and he changes it to point at you instead. 

You were right, by the gods you had never been so thankful to have been right. Finnick walks in, and you can see the colour drain from his face as he does so. 

The man standing next to you is starting to get nervous, you can see the sweat starting to drip down his face. He must realize he has been matched, because there are more people by Finnicks side. But the man still has his gun pointed at you, and this isn't over just yet.

You can't keep your eyes open anymore, and when you close them, you remember. You remember your first kiss with Finnick, how nervous he had been at the time. He had been shaking a little and told you he was embarrassed by how much you got to him, but it only endeared him further to you.  He yells at the man to let go of the gun, he sounds nervous again.

But he doesn't let go, he decides to shoot. 

You hear the bullet leaving the gun, and for a single moment, you think it's over. The last thing you’ll ever see is Finnick, but he’s not himself. He’s upset, and even though you know he’s not upset with you, it still tugs at you. Except when you feel the bullet piercing through your skin, that's exactly what you realise. You can still feel it. He didn't shoot you right in the heart, he didn't shoot towards your head, he shot you in the abdomen. You’re not sure why, not sure why he didn't kill you, but you will never know, because not even a second passes as you hear a second gunshot, and he falls to the floor.

You can't seem to remember how to open your eyes, but you can hear Finnick rushing over and right as he reaches you, you fall. You fall into his arms and the memory of it gives you hope. Something comes in contact with your stomach, and the agony of it makes you want to scream out. You can feel him lifting you, and the shift of your body makes the bullet move, making you want to scream again. And if you remembered how to, you would have.

You know he’s talking to someone, but it sounds more like buzzing to you. You can only make out certain parts of the conversation, something about needing to leave, something about infections, and something about an aircraft. 

You can hear him talking again, and this time it’s directed at you. There’s a strain in his voice, and it sounds like he’s crying. It makes you want to comfort him, but you don’t remember how to.

“Please darling, just open your eyes."

But you’re afraid, youre afraid that if you open them, everything will turn out to be nothing but a dream, and he won’t be here anymore. But even if this is a dream, you need to see him. Even if it will turn into a haunted memory, you need to see his eyes looking back at you. It takes you some effort, but you open your eyes, looking at him. You can see tears flooding his face, you can see his lips moving, silent pleas coming from them for you to stay awake. He’s telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he's telling you to hold on. He promises that he won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again and that he won’t let go of you anymore.

You remember how he cried when you were reaped for the 75th games, and how you had told him everything would be okay, how you had comforted him, but you don't have the energy to comfort him this time. You remember hearing his sobbing, his shaking voice when you close your eyes again, not being able to keep them open any longer, even if you wanted to.

You wake up again, and for a moment you think it had indeed all been a dream, that you were right back where you had started, But then you remember the bullet in your stomach. You look down and see a bandage over it, even though it’s already soaked in blood. They must have taken it out. 

You try and concentrate, and you can hear Finnick talking to someone. “Just tell me, I know it’s bad but I need to know.” “Finnick, it won’t make a difference.” The person he’s talking to sounds desperate, and you remember how stubborn he could be when it came to you. 

But you don’t remember more, because your head starts to feel light again and you give in to the feeling.

When you wake up again, you manage to open your eyes, and you can see someone sitting in a chair next to the bed you're in. He’s slumped over, his face half pressed into the mattress and half into your stomach, both of his hands are holding onto one of yours. It hurts a little, but you don't mind, because it reminds you, even when you look away, that he is still there. You remember the way he always softly snores, and the way he wiggles his nose when your hair falls over it.

You think you're connected to a monitor, because something is beeping in the same rhythm you can feel your heart beating, and it gives you a headache. So you close your eyes again, and once again, you give in to the feeling of sleep that looms over you.

Since you had been brought to District 13, he has barely left your side. He keeps putting cold washcloths on your forehead to try and break your fever. It won't help, and he knows it, but no one has the heart to stop him. 

You haven't shown a single sign of life since they had found you. It was unsettling, the silence that filled the room, none of your usual laughter and banter there to replace it. 

It’s only when Finnick's head shoots up that the others notice it as well. The steady beeping that has been imposing the silence in this room for weeks picking up its pace. The beating continues to go faster and faster, your body shaking up from the bed in almost the same rhythm. But right before anyone can do anything about it, it stops. It all seems to stop, you stop moving, and the monitor stops beating.

He starts giving you chest compressions, and someone rushes into the room holding a small bottle, they fill a syringe with the clear liquid and inject it into your arm. Within a few seconds, your heart starts beating again. But it’s only after a minute of the monitor showing him a steady heartrate that he stops his actions.

It’s dark in the room when Finnick wakes up, and if it wasn't for the soft light and the beeping of the monitor, he would've thought he was dreaming, but it seems the reality won’t let him escape. He struggles not to fall back asleep, and every few minutes he does, but every time he wakes up startled again, scared that you’ll be gone if he doesn't open his eyes every once in a while. It was easy to see the toll it had taken on him. His posture was slouched, his face less well-groomed than usual. But no one could blame him, because they could see the way he looked at you, as if you were the sun and your dimmed light turned his world dark. 

He knows the chance you can hear him is small, but he feels the urge to talk to you nonetheless. 

“I don't think I can hold this in any longer. I remember some studies that have shown people in comas do hear what's going on around them, but maybe it’s for the best that you don’t, because you would never say yes.”

He continues but he feels his voice choke up, and he runs a hand through your hair to calm himself down, his other hand still holding onto yours.

“We talked about it once, I still remember every single word you said. You came at me with all your logical reasons for why it would be a bad idea. But what you never understood is that when it comes to you, I'm not able to think rationally, because my love for you will overpower anything else.” He chuckles softly as he recalls the memory he’s about to tell you next.

“I remember when I opened up to you for the first time. I had always held things to myself, but you were so calm as I talked to you. I thought for sure I had screwed it up somehow then. Everyone always tells me now how happy you make me, and they're right. Ever since you came into my life there has not been a single moment when the thought of you did not bring me joy, even when we fought my memories of you could still somehow bring a smile to my face. 

I remember when they showed me the video, they hadn't wanted me to see it, but you know how stubborn I can be when it comes to you. I saw you, I saw the way in which they were hurting you. And I started yelling, ironically enough in that moment, you were the only one that could have calmed me down. I remember yelling at them, fighting with them not to wait any longer, that they couldn't let you wait any longer, they had to have me sedating until they came to a conclusion."

He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, taking a small ring. It was his mother's ring, he had found it a while back and had carried it with him ever since. He had thought of moments to give it to you, but every time there was one, every time he was about to ask you, something had happened, something had interrupted him. But there was no one interrupting him this time. “I have thought about asking you this every time I see you, and I can't hold it in any longer. So when you wake up, not if you wake up, because I know you will. I know you will wake up because you have to. So when you wake up, will you marry me.” A little part of him had thought you'd wake up, that you’d answer him. Even if you said no, it would still be better than what's happening right now, because he didn't care if you'd say no, if you’d say you weren't ready, because nothing could be worse than the silence that followed him. And so he slid the ring onto your finger delicately, as if you were to disappear if he wasn't careful. He put the ring on your hand because he knew that even if it wasn't today, and it wasn't tomorrow, someday you would marry him, and he wouldn't let you slip away.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, sleep deprivation and desperation playing a trick on his mind. But then he saw it again, in the beams of morning light he could see your hand moving, as if it was trying to grasp onto something, trying to pull you back into this world. It woke him up in an instant. But it was all followed so fast, the way your eyes slowly opened, squinting at the light. Before you had even awoken for a second, he moved from where he had been right beside you in order to hug you. And he was about to get lost in the thought of your moving lips, tears falling down his eyes, about to get lost in a kiss full of built-up pain and desperation when he noticed, something was wrong. Your eyebrows were knitted together and the corners of your mouth turned down just a little. He looked at your expression, your body language, something was wrong. You looked vulnerable, you looked like you wanted to protect yourself from someone.

It was only when he looked into your eyes that he truly understood something was very wrong.

Your eyes looked as if you were in pain, but it wasn't a look of any physical pain, it looked as if something was endangering you, but he couldn't understand what it was. He slowly moved so as not to startle you and asked you “Darling, what’s wrong” And at first you didn’t respond, but when he kept looking at you, expecting him to answer you, you started to speak. “Am I supposed to remember you?” 

He immediately flinched back at the statement, his shoulder sunk and his eyes dimmed. Someone told him it wasn't uncommon for brain injuries to cause short-term memory loss after a coma.

So slowly, and surely, he made it work. But it was crumbling him down every time you didn't remember the unconscious acts of affection, so foreign to you now. A quick touch on your arm as he walked towards you made you flinch slightly as if his hand had been on fire. The subtle smiles he gave you when entering a room were now met with you looking down. The way that even though you were physically here, you really weren't. 

He promised himself, he vowed to himself that he would make you remember. That no matter how long it took, he would wait for you. He would wait for you to remember, make you remember. Because he had very quickly learned that he couldn’t live without you anymore.

Part 2: Trying to Forget

[inke-ri]

So I couldn't help but browse the THG tag bc those books own my whole heart. I actually check it now and again, and it's been interesting see how opinions have changed over the years, especially in regards to Gale and Peeta. Going through the evolution of them as just potential love interests to being far more complex than I could have expected has been a wild ride. Crazy how this reads different than from when I was a preteen.

That said, I wanted to give my unsolicited two cents on my boys, because though I have been enjoying the discussion on Peeta and Gale and what they mean to the story, I also feel like reducing them to Peeta = peace and Gale = war is far too simplistic... and oftentimes unfair to one or both of them.

See, I don't think Peeta and Gale are peace and war/destruction. They're compassion and indignation.

Peeta worries about the other tributes, or their families, or how to repay people like Rue and Thresh for what they did.

Gale is indignation at how the Capitol treats its citizens, it's anger at the injustice of inequality and brutality.

Both are needed in a story like THG. You can't have people like even Peeta not say something like "maybe we're wrong about keeping things quiet in the districts", you can't have him not drop the baby bomb, you can't start a revolution without Gale's indignation at the status quo. At deserving a better life but being denied it, at having your kids be mercilessly killed for literal sport.

However, if you start a rebellion and loose sight of your compassion, you end up no better than the people you're fighting against. Gale wasn't a bad person, imo. His heart was in the right place. He was flawed, yes, but so is everyone in this series. Gale, most importantly, lost sight of the line between fighting for the people he cared about and fighting against the people who hurt him.

Reducing Gale's indignation to just revenge and hatred ignores so much of what he stands for. Who hasn't seen laws passed that dehumanize people, who hasn't been angry and furious when someone is elected who fundamentally hates everything you are, who doesn't think some people need to pay for the atrocities they committed? There's a little bit of Gale in every single one of us - and it's important that it's there, because that's what gives us strength to challenge the status quo and make life better for the future generations.

But. You can't let it take over. You can't loose sight of your compassion or your empathy.

That's where Peeta comes in. Peeta is the voice in your head that worries about how many good lives will be lost when they give themselves up for this cause. Peeta is the worry about the people caught in the crossfire. Peeta is rebuilding when it's over and believing that the next generation will have a better life than your own. Peeta is being kind, even to people who may not deserve it.

And Gale... Gale looses sight of his compassion, and he doesn't realize it until it smacks him in the face when the bombs go off and Prim is gone and he's too far gone. Meanwhile, Peeta advocates for the end of the war even though it means the status quo remains - and regardless of what he believes himself, I don't think Suzanne chose him to say those lines by chance. It means both mindsets have their flaws: too kind and things that shouldn't remain will never be challenged and changed, too angry and you may loose sight of what you're fighting for.

And that's just how Suzanne uses her characters, both of them, all of them. Just look at who is with Katniss depending on the situation:

- Katniss chooses to "rebel" after Gale is brutally whipped. She kisses him.

- Katniss realizes that in order for D12 to rebel, everyone would need to be in on it, and she realizes most of them are not like her, that they're scared and she understands, emphasises with them. Peeta walks by her side.

- Katniss finally does it though, shoots the arrow at the force field, and Peeta is taken from her, it's now Gale by her side.

(You can't start a rebellion without indignation, and sometimes you HAVE to do it or things will never change, regardless of the inevitable pain that will come along.)

- Katniss is righteously angry at the Capitol bombing a hospital full of innocents to make a point. Gale remains there.

- Coin twists people's compassion into an army to fight for her own personal gain. Peeta is hijacked and looses his sense of self.

- Katniss and Gale go to District 2 and even though she tries to be like Peeta, she's still shot- reinforcing Gale's views, the person who was with her during that sequence.

- Katniss is angry at Snow, Katniss goes to the Capitol to kill him. Gale is there.

- Katniss gets in way over her head and realizes she is responsible for the death of most of her squad. She shares the lamb stew with Peeta, and later cleans his wounds.

- Finnick dies and she's at her lowest up until that point and all she wants to do is give up and give in to the anger. She kisses Peeta and begs him to stay with her.

... Claiming that Gale is destruction ignores the fact that he's with Katniss through her own moments of strength. Her desire to change things, to fight back, is as important as her compassion. Mockingjay just brutally shows you what war does to your indignation, to your compassion. How easy it is to cross a line between righteous anger and revenge, or how your sense of empathy and compassion can be manipulated into something monstrous by others, or by all the terrible, brutal, painful things you see.

How easy it is to loose yourself- and that goes for both of them.

Peeta and Gale aren't static characters, they go from representations of sentiments regarding an injust government to what happens to those feelings when an extreme situation such as war breaks out. All of that, by the way, while dealing with this duality themselves, because they are still characters who think and feel and struggle and have flaws of their own- and while I love what they stand for, I've seen too many comments that pin everything into what they mean, that they forget that Peeta and Gale are still people, they aren't perfect metaphors. They're human.

Ultimately, Katniss doesn't really choose peace. She wants peace, yes. But what she chooses is compassion. empathy. hope. There's a time and place for anger at injustice. There's a time when fighting back is the right thing to do. There are even times when you wanna give in to your despair and lash out. But if you want peace, then you have to choose Peeta, because Peeta represents what you need to focus on to achieve that peace. You have to let go of the anger or you won't ever rest. So Gale leaves, and does not come back... And yet, Katniss still has her moments of indignation, of making a stand, even as he goes - she still casts her vote at that meeting, she still shoots Coin. Katniss does not abandon that part of who she is. It's just not her main drive anymore.

So then she goes on to make the choice, every single day, to be compassionate to others. To have hope. To rebuild. Of course she chooses Peeta.

... Idk, man. These boys are so much more than what I see them so often reduced to. They're in all of us. There will be times to stand and fight, and times to show mercy and be kind. We just need to find that balance, as Katniss eventually did.

[wwinterwitch]

rational, irrational — coriolanus snow

summary: the newest peacekeeper in your district can't seem to stay away from you, but you're just having casual fun together...right? pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!fem reader word count: 6.5k  tags: smut and fluff, there's plot here, corio being corio, he's all over you the man's desperate, briefly suggestive in public (no one sees tho), specifics about reader (plays guitar, has a mom and dad, wears a dress, is carried by corio and is shorter), i wrote it thinking reader is 20 and he's 21 btw, dry humping, everything's rough and passionate, clothed f/naked m, marking and biting, unprotected p in v, pet names (princess, baby, my beautiful girl), he moans a lot (and whimpers!), reader is an overthinking queen, love confession (mutual)

happy new year my loves, i wish you the happiest 2024!! i'm so so proud of this fic, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | thg masterlist | read on ao3

Coriolanus Snow is a very patient guy. So patient, that he sits quietly by one of the corners of that filthy-looking place while you have a good time. He's not really fond of spending time with the people in District Twelve– why would he? Everything about this place makes him nauseous, and he's pretty sure he would've found a way to get back to the Capitol already if it wasn't for you.

You, with your stupid smile and your stupid eyes and your stupid charm that managed to captivate him enough to actually make him want to be here. He may not be a fan of the people from your District, and he might not even be that interested in music at all, but he’s definitely a fan of seeing you enjoy yourself. He’s willing to sit throughout the entire performance because he knows you’re really passionate about your music, and how much you like it when he’s in the crowd to watch you.

The only thing that makes the experience tolerable is getting to see you play your guitar and twirl around in your pretty dress to the sound of the music. Hell, he even thought he was ascending to heaven every time you'd turn to look in his direction, noticing the way your smile would widen when you eventually lock eyes with him.

As soon as you got off the tiny stage, he made his way towards you with the clear intention of getting out of there to finally be alone with you. Before he can even say anything, you notice him approaching and immediately hand your guitar to one of your friends before you practically trot towards him.

There’s a big smile on your face when you’re standing in front of him, immediately pulling him in for a hug as a way of saying hi. He was busy before the show, unfortunately, so you didn’t have the chance to talk to him until now.

“You were incredible up there,” he congratulates you, leaving a quick kiss on the top of your head, his arms keeping you close to him.

Blushing lightly, you rest your head on his chest, allowing the hug to last longer than you initially anticipated before finally taking a step back from him. “Thank you.”

“Sorry I showed up a little late today.” He looks genuinely apologetic, even when you’ve told him countless times he shouldn’t feel pressured to be here every time you’re going to perform. “I wanted to bring you flowers, too, but I didn’t have time.”

You immediately shake your head when you hear him start apologizing. “It’s okay, Coriolanus. You don’t have to explain yourself, really,” you insist like always, because it really isn’t necessary. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, and even if he were, you wouldn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything for you.

He smiles down at you, silently appreciating the fact that you understand his early absence. Leaning closer again, he puts a hand on the small of your back. “Should we go now?” 

The question makes you giggle. He's been like this since the first time the two of you started seeing each other. He's always wanting to spend time with you alone, away from your friends and other people he, again, doesn't care about at all. He's not here in Twelve to make friends, after all.

But even when you’ve always enjoyed his eagerness to get some alone time with you, you promised your friends to hangout with them after the show. "Let me have one drink with my friends and we'll be on our way,” you quickly reply. The look on his face was more than enough to let you know he was not happy about that plan, which makes you take a step closer to him to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "One drink. I promise."

You start walking away before he has time to come up with something to argue back, so he has no other choice but to wait even longer. He kept a serious expression on his face, barely making any attempts to join in on the conversation your friend group was having, even when everyone tried their best to include him in it. He clearly hated the idea of still having to share you with other people.

As much as your friends have expressed their concerns about his behavior, you can't help but enjoy the fact that he seems to be so incredibly obsessed with you. Yes, it's maybe a little too much sometimes, but you actually like it.

You like that he's always touching your body in any possible way, whether it's holding your hand, rounding your waist, or putting a hand at the small of your back. You also like that he's always keeping a watchful eye on you. It's like you're his most prized possession; he just can't risk losing you, so he's always following you around, making sure everyone treats you right and with respect. Whoever dares to mess with what's his would regret it for the rest of their life.

From the moment he laid eyes on you, he just had this need to have you. To know you, to keep you close, to gain your attention. Already used to getting what he wants, he knew it was a matter of time before he managed to do just that. It didn't take long before you were accepting to spend more and more time with him, and from that moment forward he's been glued to your side. 

It's still a mystery to you what he, a guy surrounded by privileges and luxuries from the Capitol, is even seeing in you, a nobody from the most disgraceful District. Still, you were surprised by how incredibly attentive he is with you.

Even when he knows he could get in serious trouble, he always manages to sneak away from his duties as a Peacekeeper to spend time with you. He has never ever missed one of your shows. Tigris is always asking about ‘the mystery girl he has a crush on, that she just can’t wait to meet one day’ whenever the two of them manage to talk.

Even your family has questioned you about what the hell you're up to every time you come back home holding a bouquet of azaleas. He used to give you roses, until he learned you actually prefer azaleas– not any azaleas, no, because you like the purple ones over any other of the colors so he's always getting you purple azaleas.

However, no matter how good he treats you or how seemingly obsessed he is, you always remind yourself not to think too much of it, knowing better than to get your hopes up regarding someone like Coriolanus Snow.

Because you have to be realistic here. You’ll always be in District Twelve, but he’ll eventually go back to the Capitol. Neither of you have really wanted to talk about what would happen then, choosing to enjoy the time you get to have together instead, but that doesn’t mean you don’t think about it more and more everyday.

He could promise you many things. That he’ll keep in touch with you, that he’ll find a way to visit, that he’ll never let the distance be an issue. But that’s just stupid. With such a lavish life, surrounded by privileges and important people, it’s only a matter of time before he forgets you even existed.

But it’s okay if he forgets. You’ve come to terms with that ending by now, because it’s part of what you knew you’d have to live with if you decided to get involved with him.

So, even when it’s difficult, you try to remind yourself not to look forward to a future with him because people like you and people like him simply cannot have a future together. The only thing you do allow yourself to think about is that, at least for the time being, he seems to be interested in you and he's ridiculously attractive, so why not having fun while you can?

So Coriolanus waited and waited, until you were putting away your guitar and finishing your third drink –definitely not one, he noticed– to head out the little pub with him. In a matter of seconds, his hand is resting once again on your lower back as he guides you outside, making sure to move people out of the way for you.

He offered to carry your guitar case before grabbing your hand and starting to head towards the forest. Like many times before, the two of you had to sneak around in dark alleys and deserted streets to avoid being seen. No one should be going into the forest at night, especially if we’re talking about a young girl with a Peacekeeper all by themselves. 

"Stop it!" you warn him in a playful whisper when he's grabbing your hips yet again, cornering you against a brick wall in a poorly-lit street. Still, you show barely any resistance or actual annoyance as you wrap an arm around his neck. "We'll get caught."

"So?" he asks with a mischievous grin, leaning closer to you. "If that happens, I'll just make something up." Shrugging, he brushes your worries off as he presses his body to yours, pushing you against the wall. "You really made me wait back there, you know?" he adds in a lower voice, his face impossibly closer, your nose brushing with his. "How do you expect me to behave now when I've been waiting all night to be alone with you?"

That last comment makes you look up at him in a way that encourages him to squeeze your body against the wall even more, making you gasp a little.

Your body is always testing him. He's almost convinced that you know the power you hold over him and completely take it to your advantage. This is definitely one of those times, because you've decided to wear that dress he loves so much on you and you just keep looking up at him with that doe-eyed look that's making it really difficult to keep himself under control.

He settles for a kiss for now, pressing his lips to yours in a way that perfectly shows how much he's needing you. He holds your face with one hand, his tongue immediately moving past your lips and inside your mouth to deepen the kiss. Your legs almost tremble when he captures your lower lip between his teeth before pulling back entirely, a small smirk adorning his lips when he locks eyes with you again because he knows he's not the only one that's forgetting you're in the middle of a street.

Yes, he's down bad, but he's also aware of the effect he has on you and he loves watching it reflected on your face.

He lets out a low chuckle when you eventually push him away from you, deciding to continue the walk to the forest, grabbing your hand again to guide you through the narrow streets and making sure to keep an eye out to avoid getting caught.

"What did you tell your parents this time?" he asks, the playful tone in his voice evident. You didn't need to see his face to know he was grinning.

"Sleepover," you simply say, blushing.

"Again?"

The little chuckle that escapes his lips makes you blush even more, lightly hitting his arm with your available hand. "Would you prefer I tell them I'm sneaking into the forest with you?"

There's a brief silence, and for a second you thought that was it regarding that conversation, until you hear him speak again. "Do you think they'd like me?"

You're not entirely sure where that question is coming from. At first you thought it was just another little comment to tease you, but when you look up at him you notice the expression on his face. He genuinely seems serious about it, and he briefly looks down at you before looking ahead, seemingly intrigued by your answer.

Would your parents like him? Perhaps your mom will be thrilled that you found someone because you've rarely ever talked to her about anyone potentially capturing your interest in a romantic way. Even if you reveal that he’s a guy from the Capitol. You can already picture her bombarding Corio with compliments, and the thought of them meeting actually makes you visibly smile.

But your dad might be a completely different story. He's always talking about how much he hates the Capitol, after all. And the fact that he almost got in trouble with the Peacekeepers recently might be another strong indicator that perhaps he'll have his reservations about someone like him dating you.

But he's not being serious about this, you tell yourself. This is his way of teasing you, of course.

Still, the look on his face stops you from being entirely playful about your answer, because despite your brain trying to remind you to be realistic about the nature of your relationship, part of you fears he really wants to know what you have to say.

"I don't know," you eventually reply, voice a lot lower than you expected. "Perhaps your charm can persuade them too."

You notice him smile after your last comment, but you don't know if that answer was enough for him. Maybe it wasn't. "I'm sure I can find a way to win them over," he replies as confident as ever. Again, you're not sure if he's just joking or not. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything else about it and you decide to stay quiet too.

Already in the forest, it was practically impossible to get his hands away from your body. You had to walk with his arms around you, his lips occasionally pressing against your temple, neck or the side of your face. If you managed to slip from his grip even for the shortest of instances, he'd grab your arm and pull you back into his embrace.

It's only fair that he gets to hold you close to him as much as he wants. He has been patient enough for you, after all. He stayed in that bar to watch you have fun with your friends while you barely paid any attention to him. Do you really expect him to keep waiting until you reach that stupid cabin? Not a chance. Not when he's been waiting to be alone with you for hours.

The two of you finally reach the cabin and he only moves away from your body to open the door for you, his eyes hungrily trailing down your body as you walk inside. That goddamn dress looks just so good on you, his hands are practically shaking in anticipation as he closes the door behind him.

You turn around to look at him with a soft smile, watching as he carefully places your guitar case on the floor, leaving it resting against a wall before walking towards you. He's immediately grabbing your face with his hands, pulling you in for a kiss so incredibly desperate that it almost makes your legs tremble.

He's always been like this– passionate, devoted, needy. He kisses you like your mouth is the air he needs in order to stay alive. He takes a few steps backwards until he's once again cornering you against the wall, and the way he presses his body against yours with urgency isn't doing much to help your poor state.

"Corio..." you whisper, surrounded by the darkness of the cabin, seeing his features illuminated by the moonlight coming from one of the windows. He takes his time to look at you– really look at you, marveling at how your eyes are reflecting all the raw emotions he's feeling right now in this very moment with you. The way your body silently expresses your need for him to continue, how your chest rises and falters faster than usual.

But he also focuses on other things. Things you probably don't even know he'll be thinking about when he looks at you like this. Because he also takes a second to admire how unbelievably beautiful you are and the way your body fits so perfectly against his. He even has the time to realize how fast his own heart is beating, that foreign feeling that keeps appearing within him every time he's near you completely overtaking him.

You gasp softly when one of his hands lifts your dress, enough to reach your thigh as he squeezes your flesh with a low groan. "You made me wait all night," he mutters, sounding genuinely upset at this still– offended, even. "I went to see your little concert to be with you, and that's how you pay me? Just ignoring me?"

"I didn't–"

"You did," he insists, and despite the anger and frustration in his voice, you know he's not really directing any of those emotions at you. Or at least not entirely. He's just really desperate to be with you, to feel more of what you have to offer. 

There's a brief pause where Coriolanus is taking his chance to move his hand from your thigh to your ass, urging your hips forward to meet his half-way. You let out a soft moan, he smirks devilishly. "I don't think that was very nice of you."

Shortly after that last comment, he's leaning down to press his lips on your neck. Every kiss is sloppy, hurried, desperate, his hand on your ass urgently pushing you forward while he presses his growing bulge against your lower stomach.

The low moans escaping his lips makes you shiver, gripping his biceps while you tilt your head back against the wall to expose more of your neck to him.

His teeth dig into your flesh, making you moan louder. "I'm sorry..." you mutter in a breathless voice, feeling his frustration in the way he's handling your body. "I'm sorry..."

He completely ignores your apologies, much more preoccupied on kissing down your neck towards your collarbone. Your back arches when his lips trail lower, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your cleavage.

The hand on your ass moves to the back of one of your thighs, lifting your leg up until your knee is practically leveling with his hips, aligning your bodies better. The gesture exposes you just enough, creating the perfect angle for him to grind against you properly.

He moves back to watch your reaction as he rocks his hips forward, his clothed erection pressing against the fabric of your underwear in a delicious friction. Your broken moan echoes in the empty cabin, combined with the groan of pure ecstasy that escapes his lips.

"All night," he repeats through gritted teeth. "All fucking night you had me waiting."

You didn't reply. If you tried to say you didn't, he'd argue back. If you tried to apologize, he wouldn't listen. Unlike what many would think, you've genuinely got to know him during his stay in your district. You know it's better to just shut up and let him win, at least sometimes– especially times like this when he's making you feel so good and you don’t really have the strength or mind to insist.

He's probably the most stubborn person you'll ever meet. There's no way of ever making him change his mind about anything. But you like him just like that.

He's kissing your lips again, just as desperate as before, hungrily claiming your mouth. Without moving back from the kiss, he grabs your other leg to fully lift you off the ground. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, keeping your hands on his shoulders for support while he walks towards the couch that's in front of the empty fireplace with you in his arms.

He gently places your body on top of the couch, making sure you're comfortable as he moves back from you. A soft smirk appears on his lips when his eyes meet yours. With desperate hands and rushed movements, he starts removing the jacket of his Peacekeeper uniform, and you watch in silent appreciation as he removes his clothing on top of you.

First it was the jacket, then it was the plain white t-shirt he was wearing underneath, barely giving you time to admire his torso before he's leaning down to kiss you, continuing the heavy and passionate make out.

You run your hands up and down his back, careful not to be too rough with the way your fingers trace his skin. Even when the injuries on his back have healed completely, you were still fearful of hurting him.

Unlike you, Coriolanus is anything but gentle. One of his hands keeps a strong grip on your hip, pinning you down to the worn-out couch. The other moves up your frame, groping your breasts to his will. Still, despite the roughness of it all, there's an undeniable sense of care in the way he treats you. He holds onto you so tight because he physically can't bring himself to hold you in any other way, and because he knows you like that extra pressure his strong hands provide whenever he touches your body.

He'll never ever keep a strong grip on you like this with the intention of hurting you. It's not meant to hurt, but to show you through his touch how badly he needs to feel your body. How he can't function properly if he's not keeping you close. How he wants to make sure you're actually there with him, making him feel like this, and that you won't disappear into thin air to leave him completely alone. He can't let you disappear. He won't be able to live if you go.

The familiar sound of his belt echoes in the room, and you don't need to pull away from the kiss and look down to know he's urgently trying to get rid of the barrier of clothing separating your bodies.

"Take your panties off," he ordered in a rushed voice, moving back just enough to look at you. The huge amount of urgency hidden behind his captivating blue eyes makes you blush despite yourself, marveling at how he’s able to give you an instruction but still look like he’s pleading for it. "You can keep the dress on, though," he adds not too long after, taking another look down your body appreciatively. "It looks so pretty on you."

You immediately do as told. He gives you just enough space to reach under your dress to slide your panties down your legs while he finishes undoing his belt, starting to unzip his pants now.

It's actually a lot harder to remove your underwear than you initially anticipated, struggling to fully get rid of them at first due to your boots. He quickly notices it, helping to take them off before finally getting rid of your panties.

Waiting not-so-patiently (a thing you might have in common with him, apparently), you watch as Coriolanus focuses back on unzipping his pants, hurriedly sliding them down his legs along with his boxers. You barely catch a glimpse of his rigid cock before he's lifting one of your legs up again, pressing his body against yours and giving you absolutely no time to react as he's filling you up in one swift, hard thrust of his hips.

A shuddering moan of pure relief escapes his lips when he's finally able to feel your heat surrounding him. He holds onto your body for dear life, burying his face in your neck, needing to feel you close to him while he stays balls-deep inside you for a second. Savoring it, cherishing it, thanking whatever it was that put you in his life, trying to remember exactly how it feels to be like this with you just in case you ever decide to keep him waiting again. 

Not at all ready for such intrusion, you let out a pathetic little whimper that makes the moment that much enjoyable for him. You hold tightly onto his body as well, your palms pressed to his shoulder blades, brows furrowed in both pleasure and slight discomfort.

"Fucking–" he grunts, breathlessly, feeling like the happiest man on earth right now, "missed this."

He starts to move, slowly sliding his cock out of you before slamming back inside with such force that it makes you whimper out loud once again. Every beautiful sound coming out of your mouth drives him even more insane, encouraging him to do whatever he possibly can to keep them coming.

An almost animalistic groan escapes his lips when he feels you biting onto his shoulder. Your teeth sinking into his skin like that makes him lose the little self-control he had left, the movements of his hips only increasing as they become quicker, rougher. It's practically impossible to think any coherent thoughts or try to speak, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock fucking you relentlessly, aggressively, desperately.

Coriolanus fucks you like his life depends on it. Like he's been deprived of your body for years. Like it's the last time he'll ever get the chance to do it so he's forced to make the most of it. He leaves sloppy kisses all over your neck, drawing a particularly lovely moan when you feel him suck on your skin in a way that'll definitely leave a mark later. You really don't care, he can mark you all he wants.

His hips move rapidly, refusing to give you even the tiniest of seconds to relax. The impact of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his cock sliding in and out of your aching little hole are as loud as the sounds coming from your mouths. You whimper desperately, he groans completely consumed by the feeling of sharing this moment with you.

"That's it, princess," he praises you in a low voice. You're being so good for him, gladly taking every inch of him, squeezing him in a way that's making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he forces his hips to move as fast as possible. "You feel incredible...so tight...just perfect for me."

When he moves back from your neck, he could've swore he almost came right there and then just by looking at your face. You look back at him through half-lidded eyes, swollen lips parted while you keep moaning and whimpering for him, skin glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed. The fact that you look so beautifully wrecked thanks to him has got to be one of his biggest accomplishments. He'll probably never get enough of this sight, of you, of your body, of your wet pussy taking him so incredibly good that he's not sure he can keep this up much longer.

And he knows you can't handle much of this either. You don't need to say it out loud for him to know– which is good, because it's not like you can utter a single word right now. He can see it in the way you're struggling to keep your eyes open, hear it in the way your cries come out more and more broken, feel it in the way your walls repeatedly squeeze him tighter and tighter.

His tongue invades your mouth if a passionate kiss, all messy and hot, teeth clashing while you moan into each other's mouths. He kisses you hungrily for a few seconds before pressing his forehead to yours, knowing it's a matter of time before he gets to feel you come around his cock.

"Corio..." you call out his name, barely able to speak. He moves back just enough to look at you.

"I know, baby. I know," he replies in a soft voice, completely contrasting with his rapid thrusts and ragged breathing.

He closes his eyes for a second, so lost in the moment, feeling his entire body on fire and his heart beating like crazy. He sneaks an arm underneath you, lifting your hips just enough and keeping them there, both of you voicing how good that new angle feels with a particularly louder moan.

When he opens his eyes again, noticing the way you're looking up at him, he realizes it. How good this feels because he's sharing it with you. How he'll never be able to share moments like this with anyone that's not you, and even if he dares to try it'll always be second-best now that he got to experience you.And it's not just the sex, but everything. From the pride of making you blush with the tiniest of compliments, to the honor of holding your hand. From the warm and fuzzy feeling inside him every time you kiss him, to the way you seem so interested to hear his stories about his life back in the Capitol. From the absolute gift that is seeing you laugh at one of his jokes (even the bad ones), to the minutes he spends collecting purple azaleas in the forest. He wants none of that if it’s not with you.

Before he can even fully comprehend just how risky it is, he's voicing that one thought that keeps repeating over and over in his head. A thought that's probably been on his mind long before he even allowed himself to acknowledge it. "I love you," he whispers, the confession both heavy and relieving. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

In other circumstances, you would probably be absolutely shocked by that revelation. You'd stand in front of him without knowing what to say, trying to figure out if those words actually came out of his mouth or if you're just going insane. Or maybe you'd act like you did earlier when he asked about your parents, trying to trick your insecure mind and distrustful heart to believe he's not being serious– that what you have isn't serious at all.

But it's different when you're underneath him and he's claiming your body in the most excruciatingly good way, because you're deprived of all your rationality. You can't think, you can't be scared or doubt everything like you tend to do. You're stripped of almost everything, except from your most basic and natural instincts.

So, in a moment like this, it's so easy to admit the inevitable truth you seem to be running away from when you’re actually able to overthink. "I love you," you repeat, and it's so simple. So right.

He’s over the moon when he hears you say that, already wanting to hear it again and again and again because it sounds absolutely heavenly when those three little words come out of your mouth. He didn't know how much he needed to hear them until now.

You manage to distract him, however, when your moans come out more desperately than ever before, feeling the way you clench around him like crazy. "Corio..." you manage to cry out again, the vulnerability and exhaustion in your voice sending shivers down his spine.

It's a mystery to him if you wanted to say something else aside from his name, because as soon as it leaves your mouth you’re moaning louder than ever before, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of the orgasm that overtakes your whole being. Arms and legs wrapped around him, forehead resting on his shoulder, a few tears escaping your eyes due to how much you’re feeling right now.

With him, it always feels amazing, but oh does it feel even better now that you know he loves you.

Your orgasm was all he needed to be driven over the edge, his arm underneath you tightening its grip on you while the other barely provides support to his body so he doesn't crush you under his weight. "Yes, yes…" he moans, his face against your neck, the only things in his mind being the feeling of your orgasm and how badly he wants to fill you up now. "Oh, fuck, baby..." he practically whimpers those words out, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

He finally comes undone, shooting his load deep inside you as a few more whimpers escape his mouth, his peak hitting him harder than ever before. It's almost like the more instances he gets to be like this, giving you exactly what you deserve, making love to you, the better it feels. Makes him come back for more every time, crave you in a way he's never experienced before. 

His movements in and out of you slow down considerably, but he refuses to stop just yet. His hips continue to meet yours even after he's fully empty, all of his cum already coating your inner walls, but making sure to fuck every drop into you before he allows himself to fully slide out.

Panting heavily, he moves his head back enough to look at you, admiring your face of pure bliss after he tried his very best to give you everything he had in him to make you feel good. One arm stays wrapped around your body, using his available hand to brush your sweaty hair away from your face. "My beautiful girl," he compliments you in a breathless whisper, looking deeply into your eyes with immense adoration and possessiveness.

He just needed to have you like this. Alone, all to himself, making those cute little sounds that drive him insane, filled with his cum. Yes, he's a very patient person, but he can't control himself when it comes to you. Surely you understand, after what you’ve experienced together tonight and the confession that slipped from his lips, why he needed to get the hell out of that crowded pub. He's completely in love with you, how is he supposed to act like he doesn’t?

You're even more exhausted than him, barely able to keep your eyes open as you give him a soft smile when you hear the way he's complimenting you. He gently holds your face with one of his hands and you lean into his touch almost immediately. Leaning closer, he kisses you once again, a lot more controlled now but still as passionate as ever. Silently appreciating the way you handled the roughness of his movements, thankful that you shared such an intimate and intense moment with him, insanely happy to know you love him as much as he loves you.

He moves away from your lips, only to start kissing all over your face, muttering praises and compliments in between each of them, making you giggle as you gladly accept his affection.

Eventually, he pulls out of you and moves away from your body entirely, giving you enough space to sit up on the couch and look for your discarded panties. As you do that, he starts the process of dressing himself too, putting his boxers and pants back on.

You watch him in silence, playing with your fingers on your lap as you wait for him to join you on the couch again. Your insecurities were getting the best of you once again, and he immediately notices it the second he’s taking a seat next to you.

He looks visibly worried, leaning closer as he grabs one of your hands, searching for your eyes because you seem to be way too lost in your own head to fully be there in that moment with him. “What is it?”

The concern is evident in his voice, making you feel almost guilty for doubting the words that he said to you earlier. How could you doubt him when he looks at you like this?

“It’s nothing, I just…” you start, sighing as you look down at your hands to watch the way he intertwined his fingers with yours, the gesture incredibly reassuring. "Did you mean it?" you ask in a low voice. "What you said earlier?"

"Of course I did." He doesn't hesitate in the slightest. "Did you?"

Surprisingly enough, you don't hesitate either. "Yes."

The way he smiles right after your answer has got to be one of the best sights you've ever seen in your entire life. It encourages you to find enough courage to express your feelings for him once again, wanting to initiate the exchange this time.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze while you look up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes. "I really, truly, do love you, Coriolanus," you say in the most sincere voice he's ever heard.

"I love you too," he replies, that beautiful smile from before only widening. It's impossible not to smile back at him, and he feels even happier when he notices the way you blush despite the darkness of the night. "More than I thought I could ever love anyone."

He keeps your hand in his, and you notice there's no hesitation in his voice when he decides to test his luck once again. "Come to the Capitol with me," he says, but it's not exactly an order. If anything, it sounds more like a hopeful plea.

Again, you should probably think rationally about this. Leave all your life behind to go to a place that's nothing like what you're used to? To live amongst people that are nothing like you, with a completely different lifestyle? What would the people of the Capitol even think when they know there's someone from the districts (and worse, from Twelve) pretending to be one of them? Is Corio even thinking about any of this?

And what about your friends? Or your family? What if someone needs you and you're not here? Would they understand that you're leaving them here for a guy, even when you try to explain how much you love him? And what would you do when you're at the Capitol? Are you going to study? Or try to actually pursue music? Will you ever be able to come back to District Twelve? What if you miss your home? What if you hate the Capitol?

When you look back into Corio's eyes, suddenly none of those questions matter. You try to be rational, but maybe there's nothing rational about falling in love. Maybe you just need to feel it, and right now you feel incredibly at peace. So seen, so much more like yourself, so ridiculously in love that you're happy knowing absolutely nothing is making sense.

So, you don't hesitate again when you nod. His eyes light up and a bright smile appears on his face, tightening his grip on your hand. “Yeah?” he asks, almost unable to contain his excitement, leaning closer just enough.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, because the idea of leaving everything behind to follow him to the Capitol sounds absolutely insane, but it feels so right. “Yes,” you confirm.

You feel his lips press against yours immediately after. The kiss feels like a silent closure. A way of ending the conversation, sealing the promise you’ve made to have a new life together. A way of saying goodbye to your life here in District Twelve.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

What's your opinion of President Snow as a character in THG trilogy? Was he a great villain?

* Spoiler for TBOSAS *

After reading the novel, what's your opinion about Coriolanus Snow 'transformation' in the end?

Was it his nature or the way he was nurtured that led him to become the character we know?

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

Snow was a Bond villain and I will die on this hill. He's awful, don't get me wrong, and I certainly would never want to meet someone like him, but there are so many more efficient ways for him to get what he wants, for him to keep control of Panem. He fixates so much on Katniss Everdeen that he loses sight of almost every other threat. I mean... why send Peeta back hijacked to kill one person when he could send Peeta to 13 carrying some kind of lethal disease that would wipe out a large portion of 13's population without harming the weapons or infrastructure? He takes on his fight with Katniss and Peeta with single minded determination and basically forgets that his real enemy isn't just this one girl and her pesky tag along baker boy. These are two kids from District 12 who, while they certainly have a large impact, are by no means the largest or most important piece of the rebellion game. At times it feels like they are because we're in Katniss's head and only see her perspective, but the rebellion and the overthrow of the Capitol happens mostly not in front of Katniss.

That said, Snow tells us in Ballad that he has a tendency to be obsessive and fixate on one thing, and if I remember correctly, Collins even drops the foreshadowing line of "it would be his undoing if he didn't learn to control it" or something to that effect in case we missed the point the first time around when he tells Katniss that he was so busy watching her that he didn't see Coin coming. So that's exactly what happened he didn't control his tendency to obsess when it came to Katniss and Peeta.

And I don't think that makes him a "great" villain. I think it makes him the villain that makes sense for this story. And the one with the right kind of flaws for the plot of the original trilogy to make sense and work well.

One of the things that's actually really good about Collins returning to Panem to tell us Snow's story with Ballad is that Snow finally makes sense in the original trilogy, rather than being a caricature villain. He spends the entirety of Ballads obsessed with Sejanus and Lucy Gray, even though he doesn't want to be. He can't figure them out, and while he manages to "beat" them both by literally getting the one killed and possibly killing the other, his actions still stem from his inability to understand them or control them, and therefore his obsession with them. And then 65 years later he does the same thing, only he can't understand and therefore can't control these two kids either and thankfully just keeps (ultimately) failing with his Drama King tactics like dropping a bunch of roses from a bomber in order to play with Katniss's head rather than do something that would, you know... actually be an effective war tactic. And he does it all in the name of trying to get them to kill each other the way he killed Sejanus and Lucy Gray.

As for the nature versus nurture question, I think it's a little bit of both? We are of course, always influenced by the people around us. But the whole thing about Snow being 17 and right on the cusp of adulthood in Ballads is that yes, how you were nurtured impacts your decisions, and he was certainly raised and taught to become what he did, but Snow in Ballads was also literally surrounded by a thousand chances to do the right thing or to become a better person. I don't think he was nurtured in a way that would've made him heroic in our eyes. Not at all. But he didn't have to be so awful. And a lot of it also has to do with the REASONS he does what he does. He only helps Lucy Gray because it helps himself. He only befriends Sejanus because it benefits himself (momentarily). He only listens to Dr. Gaul because it benefits himself, and he ignores Dean Highbottom because those thoughts make him uncomfortable and angry.

There were any number of people showing Snow or telling him how to be kind, humane, thoughtful, and he ignored them all or dismissed them as weak, stupid, inconsequential (how do you like that call back to Peeta's words huh?). Tigris, Lucy Gray, Sejanus, the guy from the bar whose name escapes me but who was always kind to Coryo and his family. And yet Snow actively kept choosing to be a violent, murderous, entitled dickbag.

Thanks for the ask, @curiousnonny!!!

[piniatafullofblood]

Finally got around to doing the intro post thing. Okay! Hi, I’m Drift. They/them. My main content is gonna be fandom related stuff, the occasional political rant, long-posts where I message with my mutuals, and sometimes a diary. I’m 15, so keep that in mind and don’t be weird.

I’m pretty much your standard ‘of course you have blue hair and pronouns’ type person (except imo a lot less polarizing and violent than the blue extremists. NOT saying I’m a centrist but also not saying I’d vote yes for another hunger games) so if your somehow like a maga republican (oe a zionist) and you want to follow me, don’t, I don’t want you here. There’s gonna be a lot of anti capitalist/anti imperialist/anti police content here.

dni’s:

dni if you think humans are intrinsically evil. I don’t need all that coriolanus bullshit.

also, dni if you’re a leftist and feel comfortable ‘joking’ about harming right wingers ‘the same way they harm us’. if you were in a magical society where everyone saw and no one was judging you and there would be no consequences for lynching a right winger, can you say with a straight face that you wouldn’t do it? I think all human life is intrinsically valuable. even right wingers and even people who hurt others. if you think that too for everyone except right wing people, you are disregarding human life. dni.

last one: dni if you think people should be punished for consuming dark content about fictional characters. dark content is healthy, and Winston smith would hate you. You are my least favorite type of fandom trope.

for fandoms, it’s DW, mha, GO, the sandman, Loki, the mcu, I/ATSV, THG, MLB, nimona, ATLA (NOT lok) BTVS, SDV, SU, PJO, and also if you ask me about HP I will respond and I can still tell you all the lore even tho I haven’t participated in the fandom or read the books in years. I’ll add more as i remember them.

in ships wars; bkdk, lokius, yowzah, zukka, love square, spuffy.

navigation

things that matter to me masterlist for things that I would have pinned if what I have wasn’t more important

#piniata politics tag for politic rants

that’s it. be nice or I’ll block you.

[bettsfic]

(Love on Display is the series name for ASE and its sequel)

okay so for this commentary i went through my ASE tag to read the asks i'd gotten about it because i can't really remember the whole process, and found this response i'd written:

you know how like when you read or watch something, you kind of look for the character you relate to most? when i was rereading the hunger games last month i was thinking, i don’t relate to a single one of you bitches. and then annie shows up like “nope nope nope i can handle exactly 0% of this bullshit” and i was just, ah there i am

looking back on my mental health issues, the irony is that i was writing about madness in a time i was actually pretty stable, despite the pandemic being in full swing. i remember writing ASE throughout summer, sitting on my grandma's porch swing and admiring her garden, going inside only when it got dark enough for the fireflies to come out. at the time, i was approaching my third year of rejections on the original fiction front; i'd been querying agents for over a year and submitting short stories, and i felt like i wasn't getting anywhere. i was also about to start a phd program, which i was apprehensive about, to say the least. i wish i'd listened to that "i have a bad feeling about this" instinct.

tbosas had just come out (to almost no attention or acclaim; even now with the film coming out in a couple weeks, the gifsets i've been reblogging don't get a lot of traffic and the tag only has 250 fics in it) and so i read it, loved it, and immediately re-read the hunger games with the new lens of snow's origin story.

the hunger games is one of the few things that i think is completely worth the hype. it's a beautifully written series and i really admire it. tbosas i thought was even better, because it felt like suzanne collins had full creative control. it's not easy writing a villain origin story and i think she really managed to thread the needle with coriolanus as a POV character who is really the antagonist of two protagonists whose POVs we don't have access to.

anyway as soon as i finished re-reading the hunger games, i went back to read the one thg fic i'd written after the film series concluded, the baker's son. it wasn't as bad as i remembered it, because 2015-16 were the years i was really starting to figure out how to write, so everything from that time in my memory is hand-wavy at best. but i remember thinking, this could have been really good if i'd just taken my time with it.

back then, i never took my time with anything. i had so many ideas that i had to churn through them in order to get to the next one. when you're just starting out writing, you haven't followed through on enough ideas to know how to sort through them properly and find the ones that have legs. so i was still learning how to control my attention.

and so ASE marked a huge change in the way i viewed my own work and the reception thereof. i was getting nowhere in publishing, i was no longer in one single fandom and so i didn't really have a community, and i finally realized the only guarantee i would ever have is my own joy. that changed everything.

i know i'll always love the hunger games, because i genuinely believe it's good. it's engaging and entertaining and meaningful. before, i'd written for canons i actually didn't like, because communities had formed around them and i was inspired by what i felt was unmet potential in canon. but i know i'll never rewatch supernatural or the 100. in fact i didn't finish either of them. with big fandoms, sure, i get more traffic and comments. but i'd stopped writing for traffic and comments. i wrote ASE because it was fun, and i knew in 10 years i'd read the hunger games again, and i would want my perfect fixit fic. and i would want it to be long, and well thought out, and something i could be proud of.

i've kept that "i'm writing for my 40 year old self" mentality for all my writing. at 40, i want to look back at what i wrote at 30 and know it was time well spent because it made me happy during a hard time in human history. it's a lot easier to make creative decisions when you're writing for an audience of your future self.

with tbosas coming out soon, i'm hoping to finish the coriojanus fic i started in 2020 (i think it's 7k?). and looking back through my ASE tag i also saw how many ideas i had for finnick POV and i could see myself fiddling around with a few of those prompts eventually.

[ronanlynchbf]

nine ppl you'd like to get to know better, tagged by @princekendallroy thank youuu, i feel like i haven't done one of these in ages ❤❗❗

1. three ships: hmm right now probably lumax bc i've been watching st recently and they're like two of my fave characters off of it and also they're just very cute <33 + caitvi bc i miss them soooo muchh. season two WHENNN!!! and then pynch bc they're always up there and also i do just love them sooo so so soo much (excluding most of greywaren..)

2. first ship: i have no idea actually i think in the previous one i did of this i said katniss and peeta thg??? and that's probably still correct bc i can't remember really liking any other couples before as much as i did them so. everlark it is <33

3. last song: afraid of heights by boygenius. hashtag lucy dacus girl forever n always 👆❗❗

4. last movie: i have not watched a movie in AGES i think the last one i watched was bottoms (2023) i literally haven't watched a movie since so that one. if u haven't watched it yet u r missing out truly IT'S SOOOOO GOOD ❗❗❗

5. currently reading: utopia avenue by david mitchell!!!!

6. currently watching: i am. still trying to get through the stranger things 4 finale.....it's just soooooo long 😭😭😭 and there r so many parts they could've just cut out to make it not be TWO AND A HALF HOURS. also i know eddie is going to die and it SUCKS. Badly. the duffer brothers and their one season curse for the sake of body count i would like 2 talk..

7. currently consuming: stroopwafels <333

8. currently craving: hot chocolate! it's raining outside and also my room gets very very cold so even if it's just to warm my hands up i'd say hot chocolate ☕ (<- ignore that that's probably coffee. 2 me rn it's hot chocolate.)

tagging @button-house @zeitztun @bunnyrabbitheartt @hangsawoman @danielsousa @gayarthur @ahalvedheart @horrormcvietwins & @churchwatch but as always, only if u want to obviously <33!!!!

[jerichoes]

people you'd like to know better tag ♥

thank you @mercymaker for the tag! i do love tags :D

three ships i am so very incredibly deep in it rn with cyberpunk it's not even funny, so one of them is goro takemura/v. i am also still deep in it with bg3, so gortash/durge. and i am being incredibly self-indulgent here but astarion/mae. shaking all three of these really really hard in my teeth.

last film the hunger games: mockingjay part 2. me and my friends just had a thg marathon.

currently watching does one (1) episode of doctor who count.

currently reading i am still without a book to read cause i read a lot of text at work and end up burned out by the evening. i've had jonathan strange & mr norrell sitting on my shelf for a couple of months but i still can't muster the will to sit down and actually read.

currently consuming devouring cyberpunk all over again. it would be nice to consume something new but instead i am doing this. and i haven't even made it to the dlc yet which was the whole reason for a replay.

currently craving i would kill to time travel to next spring because i now have a trip coming up that i can't. wait. for. going to see my friends finally after three years of not being able to. also i think some mint tea would be nice rn.

tagging: @cetra @dekarios @gortash @alistairlowes @dulciecollins @aldcaldos @tuituipupu @reserved-fruit @italimix @khihi @mournmourn no pressure to anyone obvs!

[favroitecrime]

like one minute we were mid battle the next i’m as disoriented as she is trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t

[realmermaid333]

9 PEOPLE ID LIKE TO GET TO KNOW BETTER GAME

Tagged by: @therulerofallpotatos @writerrose1998

Last song I listened to: shotgun by soccer mommy

Currently reading: Cinder by Marissa Meyers, I think I'll read "a room of ones own" by Virginia Woolf soon

Currently watching: Yellowjackets, i have to watch the final episode soon. And I have plans to watch Anastasia soon and rewatch Wednesday :)

Current obsession: Wyler and THG as per usual. But now with an added Natalie Scatorccio from Yellowjackets

Tagging: @suchaladyy @theravenclawlover @burntblueberrywaffles @wincestation @cupoteahatter @onlyangelxo @nonamemanga @katwitchwriting @king-crimson-works @penelopwgarcia @thesweetnessofspring @ anyone who wants to join i cant think of anyone else lol

[wonderlandwalker]

One Day at a Time | Finnick Odair x Reader

Previous Part / THG Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: a short collection of sweet moments shared between you and Finnick as you recover, reminding the both of you of the love you share

(part 4 of the remember series but could also be read on its own I think, you can find the other parts in my masterlist)

Content Warnings / Tags: Fluff, no use of y/n, mentions of punching, I really think that's it.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry it took so long my only excuse is that I am an absolute mess of a human being which is a terrible one but oh well. This will be the final part of the series, hope the fluff makes up for all the heartbreak I've put you through <3

It's been a week now, one week of blissful moments spend with Finnick while recovering from the attack within district 13. After all that had happened you were in need of some peace, and the universe granted it.

On the first day you were still in the hospital wing, an IV dripping steady fluids into your system. You woke up to Finnick sitting next to you, one of his hands holding onto yours while the other was holding up a book. It was one of your favourites, and you had been pestering him about reading it so you could talk about it with him, but he had always brushed you off, saying he'd get around to it eventually. It seems eventually finally came around. You coaxed him into getting in the bed with you, he was hesitant at first, not wanting to hurt you, but he wasn't above your charms either, your eyes pleading with him in a way he couldn't resist. He had settled in behind you, letting you lean against him, ignoring the dirty look the nurse gave you. You had asked him to read to you, and even though you already knew it by heart, his sweet voice added a whole new element to the story so beloved.

The second day was spent trying to convince the nurse to let you leave the hospital room, if only for a few hours, she didn't initially want to agree, but Finnick simply wouldn't drop the subject. So you walked together towards the dinner hall, feeling like little children sneaking out past the curfew.

Supper had already finished, but Finnick was friends with one of the cooks who let him into the kitchens. He told you to sit down on the table in the middle of the room and gave you a quick peck on the lips before moving over to the fridge. It was simple, it wasn't much, but it was perfect. He would let you taste the dish in-between steps, always forgetting one ingredient or another, but you didn't mind reminding him. At some point you could have sworn he was doing it on purpose, but maybe he was just too caught up in having you there with him again. You offered to help with meting the butter, dicing the vegetables, stirring the sauce, but each and every time he would insist you stayed right where you were, accentuated with a quick kiss, his hands on your face smearing flour all over your jaw, not that you minded. He claimed he was the better cook anyway, that you'd only hold him back, now that one you both knew was a lie, but it was a precious one, one that didn't need to be disturbed.

Day three consisted of a slow day back in your room, having been cleared by the doctor and finally being in your own space again. You and Finnick hadn't shared a room in a while now with everything that had gone down, but you had immediately decided to spend your nights together again, not wanting to spend more time apart than necessary. You hadn't fully recovered yet, still needing your rest, but Finnick had set his mind on moving your things back into his room today.

So there you were, sitting crossed legged on his bed absentmindedly sipping on some coffee he had brought you as you watched him bustle about. He was only gone a few minutes at a time, but you never failed to produce a smile when you saw him approaching again, hands full with some of your books, the collection of flowers he had given you over the years that you had dried and pressed in-between the pages were sticking out slightly, but he handled them with care. Even while you weren't together you couldn't find it ins yourself to get rid of them, and you're glad of it now. He goes back and forth for a while, collecting your pillow, your skin care products, your small radio that barely managed to get a reception down here, but you couldn't bare to part with. Each time he'd ask you where you wanted him to put it down, carefully creating a space that consisted of the both of you.

On day four you had finally woken up in his arms again, wondering how you could have ever forgotten this feeling. When he noticed you were awake he had moved to place a delicate kiss on your lips, basking in the simplicity of the fact that he could. He had told you he had a surprise for you today, and you couldn't help how giddy you already got from the mere thought of what it could be. But it was oh so much better than you could have imagined, because today Finnick took you to the surface. How he managed to get you past all the checkpoints was beyond you, and when you asked he had simply said he had friends in all the right places.

It was a bit of a walk to the spot he wanted to take you, but you revelled in the sunlight against your face, needing to squint your eyes to see properly with how bright the sun was but too blissed to care. The high grass rustled against your bare legs as you continued to walk, and the tickling sensation brought back so many fond memories. When you finally made it to the clearing it was a sight from a dream. The tree next to the lake provided a shadow you could both comfortably lay in as the smell of the fresh water blessed your senses once more. The wildflowers adorning the space around you were once you could recall from back home, with a few others you couldn't identify. Finnick had picked a few, placing them behind your ear as he talked about what the flower meant. A myosotis, he had called it, representing true love and dedication. He told you about the myth behind the forget-me-nots, how they had been afraid of being forgotten by the gods, and you had vowed in return to never spend a day without thinking of him again.

During the fifth day you didn't do much of anything special, but you supposed that depends on your definition of the word. Finnick had made dandelion tea from flowers he had collected yesterday, the familiar taste bringing back a sense of nostalgia for a time that you wouldn't be able to return to. You had once told him your mother used to make it when you were sick, and ever since he would go collect them by the cliffs for you. You had insisted it was too much work that he didn't need to worry himself with, he had countered that he enjoyed the view where they grew anyway, and really, he was going for himself as much as for you. Maybe he had simply been trying to get you to stop fussing over the subject, maybe it had really been true.

You spend the day talking to your friends, reminiscing in regained memories and filling in gaps that you couldn't on your own. As you sat next to Johanna she talked on about the days Finnick spent longing after you, claiming he was alright wirh being just friends, but she was convinced that if any of her friends looked at her the way he looked at you she would have suckerpunched them.

On the sixth day you had begged Finnick train with you, saying how you wanted to get your strength back, how you missed the exercise and the content feeling of aching muscles. He had been reluctant, of course he had been, but once you had managed to drag him onto the training mat he revelled in it. He couldn't deny he had missed sparring with you, the action so effortless with you. He had made fun of how you threw your punches, saying you had to extent your arms further to complete the motion, but he was the one not protection his core properly while fixating on you. It had been good to feel your body in motion again, he was still stronger than you, knocking the breath out of your lungs once be stopped holding back, but you were still faster, getting the drop on him in the split seconds he was distracted. The manner in which your muscle memory still held up, the way in which you still used the same techniques without meaning to, it was good to know there are some things people can't take from you.

The seventh day you picked your routine back up. Waking up to an empty bed but not lonely, his side was still warm as you rolled over. Once you opened your eyes you saw the cup of coffee and the note on the bedside table. Finnick knew you never slept for long after he left, somehow he still knew. He had been given some time off during your recovery, but district 13 didn't stand still and they had needed his help. You weren't expected back yet, but the sense of purpose was one that you were always glad to have. You drank the coffee he left you as you got dressed, smiling as he had made it exactly to your liking, even if he used to complain you couldn't even call it coffee anymore with that much sugar in it. And so you went back to work, moving to scribble a quick message on the back of the note if he came back looking for you, not that he needed it, somehow he would always know where you were.

In the past week you had learned that a love as great as the one you shared with Finnick could never be forgotten, not really, because no matter how many memories faded, there would always come new ones. And soon, even though you didn't know it yet, Finnick would give you his mother's ring once more, and this time you would remember everything that led you here, and you would remember saying yes.

[thatshadowhunterlife]

Pressure Makes Diamonds (THG AU)

Summary: Winning isn't everything. It's just the only thing that matters when you have people waiting for you at home. Chrysanthemum Everdeen is the oldest of the Everdeen siblings. Her whole life is based on the survival of her and her family. When it's time for the annual Hunger Games to take place, she can't even imagine her name getting picked even with the odds stacked against her. When she is called to enter the deadly games she feels her whole world shift. Winning would mean everything to her family but her odds aren't the best. If she is to win, she has to make difficult decisions about survival, family, and love.

OR an AU where Katniss has an older sister that participated in the 70th Annual Hunger Games.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56708572/chapters/144564574

─────── ─ ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚─ ───────

Chapter Two

One time, Katniss and I were playing tag in the woods. While I was running away from her, I tripped over a tree root and broke my arm. It hurt so bad I almost blacked out from pain. Katniss cried the whole way home about it because she felt like it was her fault. I cried because I was in pain and I couldn't hunt until it was fixed. That in turn made Prim cry about it because she doesn’t like seeing us cry. My father scolded us all while my mother fixed me up a cast. Ashton and Gale were even really nice and brought over some strawberries to make me feel better. Katniss and my father went hunting to raise enough money for us to afford some of the fancier pain medicine for me. At the time, I thought that was the worst pain I had ever felt though. I never thought anything would ever come close. 

This is a million times worse than that pain. 

It’s like I could feel my heart collapse in my chest. All I felt was fear. The fear of leaving my family to fend for themselves. The fear of my sister being the sole provider for my family. The thought of Katniss having to take out tesserae because I’m not there makes me want to throw up even more.

My mother will completely fall apart. She’s barely together as it is. There is no way that she can take care of my sisters. My mind keeps racing in a million different directions. But they all lead to the same conclusion. My family is now in trouble because I am going to die.

I don’t remember falling, but the kid next to me grabbed me to keep me from hitting the ground. 

I look up and all I see is big brown eyes staring back into me. Effie’s voice rings through the speakers calling my name again. My legs move as if they have a mind of their own. They carry me towards the stage. 

“Chrissy!” 

I turn around and see Katniss running towards me. Ashton starts running right towards her and picked her up before she could get to me. She starts kicking and screaming for him to let her down. She’s sobbing harder than I’ve ever seen her cry before. “You can’t go! No!” She screams. Ashton covers her mouth to keep her quiet. 

“Go ahead Chrissy…” He says. You could hear in his voice how hard he was fighting back tears of his own. I nod silently and head up the stairs onto the stage. The crowd mumbles unhappily. 

From the stage I could see my mother crying and being comforted by some women she must’ve known from years ago. Primrose is holding her hand and just looking right at me. 

“Oh finally, she is here!” Effie says cheerfully, “now onto the boys!” She struts over to the boys bowl and grabs a name quickly. Way quicker than she did the girls that’s for sure. She opens her mouth to read the name but is interrupted by a loud thud. The whole crowd looks in the direction of the sound. Our district’s only living victor, Haymitch Abernathy, is face down on the ground. The Mayor looks incredibly embarrassed but tries to help him up. Once he is back on his feet, Haymitch throws up all over Mayor Undersee. The smell of vile quickly fills the area.

“Oh dear! How revolting !” Effie exclaims. She turns her nose and tries to get everyone back on track so that the janitors could clean up the mess quickly. Haymitch could barely stand at this point. Mayor Undersee is given some napkins to help clean up some of the vomit off of him. But man if looks could kill, Haymitch would be dead where he stood. “Let’s wrap this up, shall we? For our male tribute, the honor has been given to Sage Emrys!”

That name sounds vaguely familiar. Like he might’ve been in one of my classes at one point or maybe someone said his name in the hallways. The person who comes up the stairs, is the same one that kept me from falling on my rear. His long, shaggy blond hair is unkempt. His brown eyes were full of fear but his face showed none of that. He’s tall and lanky but didn’t look as underfed as those of us from the Seam. His parents are definitely more wealthy than mine. Maybe my mom knows them.

Sage Emrys stands on the other side of Effie as far away from the vomit as he could get. Effie puts on a big smile and announces us as District 12’s tributes. The entire crowd stays silent. They are not happy about this. I’m not sure which person getting reaped made them upset. Maybe it was both of us. While I doubt many people will miss me, at least I can feel like my presence was once acknowledged. Whether it be from the people at school or the people in the Hob, they will all remember that I was here.

The Mayor returns to the podium and begins to read the Treaty of Treason but no one is really listening. It’s the same speech every year so everyone could care less. I’m more focused on not losing my mind completely in front of all these cameras. I try to not look at my sisters, mother, or Ashton. I see Gale in the crowd for a split second and feel the tears well up. I know Ashton promised to take care of my family but his own family is hard enough to care for. My family has just lost my father and now I will die too. This will be traumatizing for Katniss and Prim. Maybe even Ashton.

After the reading of the Treaty of Treason, Sage and I face the crowd as the Panem anthem plays again. At this point, even the people that bet on the tributes had stopped. All eyes were on the two of us. I’ve never felt more self-conscious than I did at this moment. When the anthem finished, we were escorted off the stage by Peacekeepers. That in itself is pretty scary. Peacekeepers only escort criminals and dead bodies places so I wonder why they are escorting us. Maybe some tributes have tried to run away before. The Peacekeepers barge through the doors of the Justice Building while the cameras follow. 

The Peacekeepers take me into an empty room and leave me by myself. I’ve never been inside of a room so fancy looking. The carpet looked as if it had never been touched by shoes. The velvet couches look almost inviting. I only recognized the material because my mother had a dress with a collar made out of that stuff. I sit down on the couch and just stare at the wall. I’m trying to focus on anything other than the next hour. This will be the time that my family and friends are allowed to say goodbye to me. I don’t know if I will be able to keep myself together for this. I know I can’t leave here with puffy eyes and a running nose, but the thought of a final goodbye to my family is beginning to feel very overwhelming. 

It felt like I was sitting there forever before the door finally swings open. Both of my sisters rush towards me and tackle me with hugs. I hug them tighter than I ever had before. This could be my last moments with them and I need to make them count. When I could finally get a good look at their faces, I could see that Katniss’ eyes were puffy and red from crying. “Chrissy you better win!” she says into my chest. 

I run my fingers through her hair and give her a soft smile. “Of course I’ll try to win. I want to come home to you guys,” I say.

“No! You have to come home! You know how to fight Chrissy. I watched you beat up Liam that one time because he called me ugly! You can come home,” she says seriously. 

I can’t make her any promises. There will be a lot of competition. Certain districts train their whole lives for this. I’m just some kid from the Seam that happens to know how to hunt animals for food. Animals are not humans. Killing someone is something completely different than throwing a few punches. It isn’t for food or to protect my sister. It’s for someone else’s entertainment. I’m not cut out to win the Hunger Games.

However, instead of telling Katniss what I was actually thinking, I just smile and nod. “I will win. Just for you,” I say softly.

I turn to my mother, and my expression hardens. “You can’t leave them. You have to be there for them. It doesn’t matter how you feel right now, they need you more than anything. Do you understand me?” I say. 

“Yes,” She says. I could tell she was holding back tears. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly. This might really be the last time I get to hold my mother. By the way she is holding me,  she must be feeling the same way. 

“I love you,” I say. I haven’t said that to my mother since my father died. Tears well in her eyes and she hugs me tighter. 

“I love you more,” She whispers in my ear. Even now that’s the most sound she is able to muster. It’s still so comforting to hear though.  I feel her slip something into my pocket. When we break away from the hug, I reach into my pocket and look at the small object. It is a gold ring with a small diamond; this is my mother’s wedding ring. “The tributes are allowed a single token from your district. I just thought it would always remind you of home,” my mother says. I’m sure this was hard for her to part with. She kisses my head and pulls my sisters in for a hug. We all stay that way until the Peacekeepers make them leave. It felt like my heart left with them. It keeps getting harder and harder to fight back the tears. I try pacing around the room to see if that helps. Eventually I allow myself to let a few fall before my next guest comes, though I’m sure I know who it’s going to be.

Ashton bursts through the door and rushes towards me. He picks me up and hugs me. When he sets me down, he looks deep into my eyes. “You have to win Chrissy,” He says in a low tone.

“I don’t know if I-”

“No Chrysanthemum! You need to win! I know you can. You know how to hunt and you know how to survive. You’ve lived in this place your whole life so I know you won’t starve. You need to get your hands on some knives, Chris. You can win this. I know you can. I’ve never met someone else like you,” he says. 

All I could do was nod. I think I was more in shock that he called me by my name. He never calls me Chrysanthemum. He has so much faith in the fact that I’m going to come home. Maybe even for a second I can believe it too. 

“I’ll try my hardest to come home to you guys,” I say.

“Chrissy, I need you to come home,” He chokes out. The tears he had been trying so hard to keep in have finally started to surface. I’ve never seen Ashton cry before. Not even when his father died. He was always the strongest person in the room.

I do the only thing I could think to do in this situation. As stupid as it might be, I hold out my pinky. “I’ll come home. I pinky promise,” I say. He lets out a small laugh through the tears and embraces me in a tight hug. He smells like the woods still. Like home. 

We stay that way until he has to go. I look at a clock on the wall and I can see that my hour is up. Two Peacekeepers come inside to escort me to the train station. I’ve never been before because its only really used for the Games and exporting coal. It looks less decrepit than the rest of the district though.  I should have expected the hoard of cameras and reporters from the Capitol. Bright lights keep flashing in my face while people keep calling my name and asking me questions. The sound of clicking starts to give me a headache. I just try not to look at any of them to at least seem unfazed by everything that has happened today. Maybe acting tough will improve my chances at survival. I don’t look at a single camera or answer a single question. I act as if they are undeserving of my time. 

Sage Emrys on the other hand is smiling at all the cameras and waving. He hardly seems bothered at all. His hair looks a bit neater now, I’m sure his mother might’ve touched it up. People in the merchants area care about appearances like that. I bet the people in the Capitol will call him brave for not even crying. I just think he is being stupid. 

The inside of the train is fancier than I could have ever imagined. It’s like something we only read about in school. The floors are adorned with royal purple rugs and white flowers. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling tops. Burgundy velvet chairs sat at a deep reddish brown wooden table. I think it might’ve been mahogany. The walls are a deep, navy blue.

“Wow they really put down money on us,” I hear from behind me. 

I roll my eyes hard at Sage. “It’s all a waste since we’re gonna die anyways,” I say. A tall woman with pale skin and dark brown hair escorts us to our rooms. She never spoke to us which I thought was kind of rude, but what can you expect from Capitol people? 

My room is just as lavish as the rest of the train. I can’t stop myself from investigating every single door. The closet has a few dresses in there already. I guess for me to wear on my way to the Capitol so I look more presentable. Though I still think my mother’s dress was nicer. Or maybe I just miss them already. Another door leads to a gold and white bathroom. Maybe I’ll bathe in a few minutes. The bed is bigger than any other I’ve ever seen. The silky gold sheets looked alive with the sunlight from the window. Gold chairs matched the bedset. My goodness did they look comfy. Primrose would love them. The walls were the color of the trees in the Meadow. The Meadow . It hurts my heart to even think about. I can still hear Ashton laughing and Katniss and Gale bickering. I still smell the fresh scent of earth after it just rained. The wild berries. The flowers. All the herbs I would bring home. I can see Katniss and Prim’s beautiful eyes that lit up whenever I came home. 

Realistically, I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about home. I’ll have even less of a chance at winning if all I do is miss my family. I lay in the bed and let out a small, humorless laugh. What am I thinking? It doesn’t matter what I do now. I’ll still be delivered in a wooden box back to District 12. I suppose it’s nice that I get to enjoy this soft bed first. The bed smells like the fresh cut flowers you only find in the wealthier areas of my district. Ashton got me some for my birthday one year. They were roses I think.

Apparently I fell asleep because I woke up to Effie knocking at my door. “Ten minutes until dinner!” she says in her stupid accent. I sigh heavily and walk into the bathroom. I’ll be honest it took me a few minutes to figure out how to get the water working. When I got it though, hot water rained from above me. While it felt really good, I figure I shouldn’t be late to dinner. I lather myself in a sweet smelling soap, wash off, and head back into the room. I pick out a dark green dress that I thought matched the rest of the room in a way. I left my own clothes on the bed.

The dining table was filled with more food than I had ever seen in my life. Golden brown rolls, three different meats dripping in sauces, vegetables that I’ve only seen in books, and grains that were so much better looking than tesserae ones. My mouth instantly begins to water while my stomach betrays me with loud growls. Effie sat down at the head of the table. How fitting for Capitol trash. “Haymitch won’t be joining us tonight. He’ll more than likely be passed out until tomorrow,” she says. There is a hint of disgust in her voice that almost makes me laugh. I sit down at the table and the silent woman from earlier begins to serve my food. 

Sage comes in a few minutes later wearing a light blue t-shirt and black pants. His wet hair falls just under his shoulders. He sits across from me and stares at all the food. Another woman, who was also silent, serves his food. 

“Thank you,” he says politely. 

Effie looks appalled. “You shouldn’t talk to them,” she says. I couldn’t help but wonder why but I don’t think it’s a good time to ask. I begin to eat but it’s so hard to pace myself when all the food is so delicious. I remind myself to mind my manners. My mother raised me better. I look over at Sage who seems like he was also trying to not seem sloppy. “You two have better manners than the last two,” Effie says.

“And you’re as much of an airhead as I thought,” I say. Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to. Sage snickers across the table and Effie glares at me but doesn’t speak.

“No need to be so mean sweetheart,” Sage says, “Effie doesn’t know any better.”

I roll my eyes hard. “I’m not your sweetheart,” I snap. 

“Now now. Thats no way to talk to the person who kept you from falling on your ass on national television,” he says

Effie clears her throat. Her plate was only half eaten. I hear Capitol people like to eat less to stay skinny. Never made any sense to me as someone who had sleep for dinner on many nights. I pile more food onto my plate. I may not be able to beat the other tributes but at least I can last longer if I get more meat on my bones.

I think Sage was on his third plate. I guess he has the same idea as I do. He is definitely a healthier weight than me because he had more money, but we are both way smaller than we should be. The Careers would look at us and laugh. Career Tributes are tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4. Sometimes they bring in people from other districts into their group if they like them enough to save them for later. What an honor right? They almost always win the Games because they train their whole lives for it. They are typically better fed and stronger, however, they are also very arrogant. Maybe I’ll be lucky and that’ll be someone’s downfall? Doubt it though. This isn’t a fairytale.

After we eat, we watch the recording of the Reaping on the television. Effie says it’s best to scope out the competition but I think she just wanted to watch it and needed an excuse. Sage and I sit on opposite sides of the couch. We watch as each name is pulled. In the Career districts, they make the Reaping so complicated. They actually fight over who gets to go into the arena. Arguing who gets to kill other kids their age. The female tribute from District 1 looks like she could easily snap me in half. Don’t even get me started on the male from District 2. He almost looked excited to kill someone. I can’t stop myself from shuddering at the thought of his face being the last one I see. Oh God why did I ever promise them I would come home? 

I barely register most of the names as they pass me by but I did catch a few. I know the male from District 1’s name is Valor. The female is Jewel I think. District 3’s tributes were Techna and Acer. Barley and Maize are the boy and girl from 9. The youngest in the arena are going to be from 11. Their faces remind me so much of Katniss and Prim. Just two little kids. They couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. Clementine is the name of the girl. Her brown curls bobbed up and down as she walked to the stage. You could tell the poor thing was terrified. Tears were streaming down her face. She called for her mother. It absolutely broke my heart. Cinnamon is the little boy. He didn’t cry but he wanted to. He refused to look at the crowd. The cameras abruptly switch to our Reaping. 

Katniss made her television appearance, trying to keep me from the stage. Ashton is there too. Trying to pull her off of me. This feels like the last time I’ll see their faces. My own face looks stoic. I don’t even recognize myself up there on that stage. They cut out the part of Haymitch making a fool of himself. I’m sure Effie is happy about that part. I look over at Sage. He looks lost in thought. I gently touch his arm. I think that snapped him out of it. He looks at me for a moment then shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

Seeing the Reaping made everything feel more real than it had before. Those are the people who are going to kill me. Kids just like me being turned into murderers for the entertainment of the Capitol. Some of them are even excited about it. Silence hangs uncomfortably in the air for what feels like hours. Though I’m sure it was just a minute or so. Effie breaks awkwardness with a loud clap. “Well, I will be leaving you two now. I’m sure you two will need to be getting sleep soon,”  She says. She walks past me and heads out the room. 

“Where is Haymitch?” Sage asks. 

“Probably passed out in his room still. Effie says he won’t be up until tomorrow,” I reply. 

“We should check on him,” Sage says. 

“Trying to get on his good side, Emrys?”

“Well he is the one that’s gonna be keeping us alive,” he reminds me. 

That shut me up real quick. He’s one hundred percent right. I let out a frustrated groan and start walking towards where I assume Haymitch’s room is. Sage follows quickly behind me.  Honestly, the smell of vomit hit me before anything else so it wasn’t hard to tell which room it was. I feel terrible for the people that have to clean that up. Sage knocks on the door first. There was no answer so I called out his name. Again, no answer. 

“Has a mentor ever died before the Games?” Sage asks.

“I don’t think so. But ours better still be breathing because he’s the only one we have,” I say. Trust me, if the other victor was still alive, I think we would all be happier. I turn the knob and the smell hit me like a truck. Haymitch is sprawled across the floor in a puddle of his own vomit and a liquor bottle in his hand. I’m staring at my only hope at life. This is more depressing than going to bed hungry.  

“Look, I’m not really doing this to get on his good side. I don’t even think he has one. I just feel bad for the guy,” Sage says holding his nose, “I got it. Just go to bed. At least leave him the dignity of not letting a random girl see him naked.”

I think for a moment about what Sage’s intentions could really be. But eventually I relent. I really didn’t want to clean this grown man up. Even the thought, mixed with the overwhelming stench, made my stomach feel funny.

“Alright. Good night then. See you tomorrow morning,” I say as I leave. 

I make my way back to my room. It’s such a shame that this is the first time I’ve ever had a room this nice and I can’t fully enjoy it. I hate it. The room itself feels like a beautiful prison. A cruel joke.I sink into the bed the same way my heart has been sinking into my chest. I roll over and grab my mother’s ring from my dress pocket. I stare at it in silence. Katniss and Prim are probably asleep by now. Well maybe not Katniss. She is probably awake with my mother. They might be trying to figure out the next few weeks and how they will survive. I doubt Ashton is getting any sleep either. He probably walked to my house to comfort Katniss and my mother. Maybe they are all sitting by the fire, longing for me the way I do for them. 

The bed is so warm. The sweet smell of flowers fills my nose as I bury my head in the pillows. I begin to fall asleep to the quiet hum of the train. 

[railway-lands]

Red Valley: tagged under #red valley

Raven Boys: tagged under #trc and #trk spoilers for my friend who hasn't read book 4. sometimes #td3 as well

Monkey Wrench: #mw

The Good Place: under #tgp

Night In The Woods: #nitw

The Owl House: #toh and #toh spoilers (for the finale. you know who you are if you need to filter this one.)

Percy Jackson (TV Show): #pjo and possibly #pjo spoilers

Six of Crows: #soc

Wings of Fire: #wof

Keeper of the Lost Cities : #kotlc

Gravity Falls: #gf

This is how you lose the time war: #time war, #time war spoilers

how to train your dragon / race to the edge: #httyd, maybe #rtte

murder drones: #md or #murder drones (out of use)

the hunger games / the ballad of songbirds and snakes: #thg and #tbosas

there may also be:

Incsryption: probably going to be farther down the line as i havent finished yet. keep an eye out for this

Dredge: #dredge, most likely. i haven't finished the game yet though.