#the mockingjay is here!

[themockingjaykatniss]

Gale wasn’t the only one responsible for my sister Prim’s death. It was President Coin. Snow was telling the truth all along before he died.

@sweeneytodddemonbarber

Hot take but… “Gale was a teen soldier who got brainwashed, by a manipulative dictator, into the idea that sacrificing a small number of troops was worth it to definitively stop the government that had spent years ruining the lives of him and his people” and “Gale’s gross disregard for human life directly led to the death of Prim and thousands of other civilians including children, and Katniss is justified in her anger and has no obligation to ever forgive him” are two statements that can and should coexist together.

[itsajollyjester]

"No I've got it!"

[malinaa]

i need to fucking die thinking about mockingjay everlark before peeta was rescued . he is literally being tortured and hijacked out of his mind and still he manages to get one warning out to katniss, to save her as he's always done. and then u have katniss who's every other thought and spoken word is to ask about peeta. everyone in district 13 thinks of him as a traitor and she is begging for someone to save him because she knows he's forced, or worse

[inklore]

hi can we just talk about how much finnick protected peeta? like not just in the games but after?!?!! he was the only one to not raise his gun at peeta, who stepped forward and tried to help him. he reassured him it was okay to ask questions when he needed to. he ran lines with him, told him he had this. even when he killed someone on their squad and was going after katniss finnick didn’t become violent with him. just retrained him and tried to calm him down, literally telling peeta i got you. and the line “peeta just tuck in there” I’M SCREAMING

[moon-mirage]

I'm almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.

And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off.

[ivysos2001]

I just know I’m gonna read sunrise over the reaping and then go back to the og series and cry over haymitch bonding with katniss and peeta, trying to help them navigate the world (and snows wrath) post-games, almost losing them time and time again, watching katniss (and himself) suffer over losing peeta to the capitol (through the kidnapping and the hijacking), and then eventually getting Peeta back and watching him and katniss have the life and the family he and his love never got (and getting to be a part of that family himself- bc let’s be real everlarks kids def grew up with grandpa haymitch across the street)

[thesweetnessofspring]

Worst Adapted Scene in The Hunger Games goes to...

Here we are, another worst of poll. This time we're looking at scenes that are in both the book and the movie and voting for which one was adapted the worst.

[martydaxnger]

no but actually... why were there mockingjays in the arena during the hunger games? snow beefed with those useless captiol mutts so hard but somehow they were a part of the games?? why did he put them in there???

[ghost-bxrd]

Sorry to hear you’ve been sick. Please have my humble offering of some MockingJay concept art and feel better soon

Ooooooo I love this design!!! It reminds me a little of the Court of Owls, which I’m a huge sucker for, so. Double the amount of joy 💚💚💚💚💚💚

You can really see all the thought put into the details here! The magnets for the knives are such a cool gadget too! And the bird themed hood!! 👁️💚✨

[itsajollyjester]

"...I had to forgive Finnick for his role in the conspiracy that landed me here. He, at least, has some idea of what I'm going through. And It takes too much energy to stay angry at someone who cries so much." -Mockingjay, pg 12

[thestarlightforge]

[k8lynjoy]

Currently on Mockingjay in my Hunger Games reread, and I am at the part where Katniss walks in on Gale and Beetee making the two-tiered bombs that later end up killing Prim. I immediately started thinking about this post I saw forever ago about how Gale had no idea what those bombs were going to be used for, so it doesn't make sense to blame him for what happened to Prim, and I would just like to say: that is a load of horse shit. Not only did Gale help to build those bombs with their full use in mind, but they are based off of his snares and traps. Gale isn't just some lackey passing Beetee parts with no idea what's happening. He is actively giving Beetee ideas on how to target and kill as many people as possible. Just so no one can start arguing with me in the comments, here's the direct quote from the book:

"This is what they've been doing. Taking the fundamental ideas behind Gale's traps and adapting them into weapons against humans. Bombs mostly. It's less about the mechanics of the traps than the psychology behind them. Booby-trapping an area that provides something essential to survival. A water or food supply. Frightening prey so that a large number flee into a greater destruction. Endangering offspring in order to draw in the actual desired target, the parent. Luring the victim into what appears to be a safe haven- where death awaits it. At some point, Gale and Beetee left the wilderness behind and focused on more human impulses. Like compassion. A bomb explodes. Time is allowed for people to rush to the aid of the wounded. Then a second, more powerful bomb kills them as well" (Mockingjay, 216).

To say that Gale can fully help Beetee design bombs meant to kill children, parents, and aid workers, but then also say he had no idea what Coin was going to use them for is disingenuous. Gale might not have meant to target Prim specifically with that bomb, but he absolutely knew what they were going to be used for. He designed them with the intent to kill people rushing to aid those hurt in the initial blast- such as medics, which Prim is- so is it really a surprise when a bomb that has that specific function in mind kills Prim? This wasn't just some last-ditch effort on Suzanne Collins' part to eliminate Gale as a love interest (because she has been sowing the seeds of Gale's character arc since book one- you know when he says that killing people can't be that much different from killing animals). Katniss had every right to hold Gale accountable for Prim's death because she knew who designed those bombs and why he did it. Prim's death was an accident, but not because that bomb wasn't meant to target people like her, but because Gale didn't mean to kill Prim specifically. He knew what those bombs would do, he wanted them to do it, he just didn't intend for Prim to be there.

[petruchio]

a soft place to fall - 6k

Johanna visits Twelve.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Katniss feeling insecure one random afternoon after seeing Peeta interact with some pretty girlies and asking him later that night all quiet if he thinks she’s pretty 🥺

I meant for this to be funny and then it turned out... not funny. Oh well. Enjoy some post-Mockingjay not fluff but not really angst??? No warning tags on this one.

“Having an eye for beauty isn’t the same thing as a weakness,” Peeta points out. “Except possibly when it comes to you.” - Catching Fire, Chapter 15 “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” - Mockingjay, Chapter 16

It takes me longer than usual to finish trading with the new butcher. She’s originally from Ten and came here after marrying a soldier from Thirteen. She refused to live underground any longer and he tried living in Ten, but felt too exposed and jumpy in the flat plains of that district. Twelve was their compromise. But I haven’t had the chance to build the kind of rapport with her that I had with Rooba.

Rooba. I make a mental note to ask Peeta to draw her for the memory book tonight. We’ll both have memories of her that need to be recorded.

When I finish with the butcher, mostly satisfied with the cuts of deer meat and the coin I walk away with, I make my way over to the bakery. Usually I’d help Peeta close for the day. I got lucky catching the deer so close to the fence, but it still took time for me to bring back enough help to drag it to the butcher.

Surprisingly, there are still a handful of customers in the bakery. Unusual, this late in the day. I hasten my steps, thinking Peeta might want some help getting rid of the chatty customers, and seeing me after a hunt usually does the trick.

As I reach the window, though, I slow my pace. It’s not just any customers. It’s the Lassiter girls. They moved here after the war with their father, who used to be the head foreman at a perfume factory in District One. Apparently someone thought his skills would translate well to running a medicine factory, because that’s what his job here is. And his five daughters -- Neroli, Dior, Ambrette, Clary, and Opal -- aged twenty-four to sixteen, spaced two years apart down the line, are each just as beautiful as the last. Gossip holds that they each have a different mother, and while there’s been no confirmation from their father on that point, they’re each so strikingly different in looks and coloring that it wouldn’t surprise me.

They’re currently clustered near the counter, a bouquet of undoubtedly sweet smelling flowers. Their dresses a rainbow of eye-catching hues in expensive looking fabrics. All I can do is snort as I think of how dull and dingy their clothes would’ve been if they’d lived here when there was still a coal mine. But their hair, although different shades, all gleams in glossy waves and curls and curtains of shimmering silk in the bright lights of the bakery.

I hear Peeta’s laughter then, followed shortly by the twittering chorus of the Lassiter girls’ giggling. Ugh. They cannot be serious. Not my Peeta.

None of them are married yet, and there’ve already been several District Twelve men turned away from their front door step with dazed looks in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe they’d actually dared to propose to one of the Lassiter girls. And while this group ambush of my Peeta gives me an idea of what sort of partner they might be looking for, it’s unacceptable.

I push through the bakery door and attempt a smile. Neroli sees me first. The oldest, and by far the smartest of this bunch, our eyes meet and her lips curl in a smile. She’s dressed in a dark, forest green dress. Her dark, almost black hair swept to one side, into a long, sleek ponytail. There’s no denying that she’s stunning. Long, sooty black lashes frame her pale eyes that I’ve never been able to decide if they’re blue or gray. Some part of me knows that if I were somehow more beautiful, I might look like her.

Neroli glances at Peeta, then back at me. She inclines her head slightly towards me, and I’m not certain what she means until she speaks.

“Father will be wondering what’s keeping us,” she announces to her sisters. “Come on. Get your purchases and let’s leave these two turtle doves alone.”

She still pauses to say something to Peeta before she and her sisters clear out, but the glance she throws my way before shutting the door behind her makes me think that maybe Neroli and I might’ve been friends under different circumstances. When I finally manage to look at Peeta, he’s head down in the cases, cleaning them out.

“Lock the door for me? How was your day in the woods?”

“Not bad,” I tell him as I throw the bolt. “I got a deer.”

“That’s great!”

“Put this in the cold storage while I sweep?” I hand him the package from the butchers and he hands me a broom across the counter. It’s one of my usual chores and it isn’t long after that we’re headed home. But all through dinner, I can’t get the image of the flock of Lassiter girls twittering around him out of my head. 

I distract myself after we clean up the kitchen with the memory book, telling Peeta about the deer today and how things went with the new butcher. We share a few memories of Rooba while he sketches her and I write them down in draft. We manage to finish her page and seal it into the book before it’s very late.

And while Peeta showers with me, and stands next to me while we brush our teeth and get ready for bed, he somehow feels distant. As I lay down and watch him as he carefully removes his prosthetic, I can’t help but think again about the Lassiter girls.

“Goodnight, my love,” he murmurs as he turns to me, slipping his legs under the covers and cupping my cheek in his palm before kissing my lips once, softly.

“Goodnight,” I respond and blink when he turns out the light and lays down.

But I can’t get comfortable. And behind my closed eyes, I see a still ravaged Peeta, the hijacking reversal barely even begun. His knuckles pale as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him and restraints holding him down, safely away from me.

“You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty.”

I huff out a heavy breath and jam the heels of my palms into my closed eyes, trying to push the image out of my brain. He’s laying right here beside me. He kissed me and called me his love just minutes ago. What Peeta and I have puts the stars in the sky and the poets’ words on the page to shame with its depth and significance. That’s far better than some superficial beauty.

And yet the words still slip past my lips.

“Peeta,” I whisper, and he hums in response so that I’m not sure if he’s fully awake or not. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

There’s a few seconds of silence and then I hear the sound of the sheets rustling as Peeta turns over to face me.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s just a question,” I say and smack my hands down onto the bed, right at my sides. They’re still clenched into fists and I try to hold back the sudden, ridiculous tears welling up in my eyes. Because his hesitancy to answer tells me what I need to know. How stupid of me to ask.

“Katniss, honey,” he breathes and moves through the dark, pulling me into his arms. “You will always be as radiant as the sun to me,” he tells me and I snort, wishing I’d never told him that phrase or how I’d once used it. “No, I’m serious. Katniss, you take my breath away.”

“But I’m still not particularly pretty. At least not as pretty as Neroli Lassiter, am I?” I poke and I can feel his frame stiffening besides me.

“No. Oh no, no, you can’t believe what I said that day, Katniss.”

“But you were right. I’m not very big.”

“And we both looked like shit that day because we’d been through too much shit. That doesn’t mean I meant it, Katniss. You have to know I was… I was trying to hurt you that day. Hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. Because I thought you’d used me, chosen Gale and the rebels, and left me to die or worse in that arena.”

“I know,” I say and finally manage to turn over into his embrace, burying my face in his chest as he caresses my back and whispers a hundred apologies for his careless words. I inhale his scent and let his hands soothe me.

So when he slips his fingers beneath my chin, I let him lift my face to his. I close my eyes and savor the brush of his lips against mine.

“You once told me that I had a weakness for beautiful things,” he whispers. “Real or not real?”

“Real,” I answer without pause. I can smell the horses and feel the warmth of Cinna’s glowing ember costume. I can see Peeta in front of me, radiant and beautiful, and smiling in amusement at my assessment of him. “But you don’t have a weakness for beauty. Only an eye for it,” I remind him.

“So yes, Neroli Lassiter is a beautiful woman--”

“And her sisters?” I prod and I can feel Peeta smiling against my lips as he kisses me once.

“And her sisters are, too. But you’re the only beautiful person I have a weakness for. No one else has left a lasting impression the way you have.”

I can’t help but smile stupidly at the repetition of his words from the cave. The reminder that somewhere amongst the acting for the cameras, we always had at least a sliver, a taste, a fraction of or at least the roots of something real.

“I’m still a goner for you, Katniss Everdeen, real or not real?” he whispers, and I already know the answer. I know what he wants me to say, because it’s true.

“Real.”

[inklore]

i’m not being dramatic when i say i’d commit crimes for him

[gutfaced]

— the haylist (version 0.2)

inspired by my mutual + i've been meaning to put it here for the longest time