#victor!cato

[cloverskentwells]

random snippet of a 73rd Games Victor Cato AU that probably wont see the light of day. For context: Cato is the D2M Tribute in Catching Fire instead of Brutus, and Katniss has vivid memories of his Games.

---

The Recap then transitions to District 2. Onstage stands the typical Victors I would expect from a Career District. To the right is Enobaria Salinas: obsidian hair cascading down her back in perfectly styled waves, baring her sharpened teeth to the world, dark eyes glowing embers of an emotion I would describe as excitement. A Two Victor being thrilled to reenter the Arena - no surprises there.

Next to her is a younger yet much larger man, eyebrows raised at the crowd as if arrogantly challenging them, jaw clenched tight, cold blue eyes looking directly at the camera with the obvious desire to intimidate. I know him because he's a recent Victor - Cato Hadley, from the Games before mine and Peeta's.

He was infamous for his terrifying brutality and unhinged nature, for how the necks of his fellow Tributes were little more than twigs in his unforgiving grip. What set him apart from his peers, however, was his unorthodox reaction to his District partner's death - Careers are no stranger to violence, and the Packs typically fight amongst themselves for the right to the crown once everyone else is gone.

Although I try to forget the Games after the mandatory watching as soon as they are over, for some reason his stayed with me, probably because it was so unusual. Watching him kneel beside his fallen partner and gently brush her bloodstained hair away from her face, hands shaky, begging her to stay with him, almost made him appear normal, like the rest of us.

Of course, he quickly returned to violence afterwards, and thankfully any misplaced feelings of sympathy I had faded. The Tribute who had killed Cato's partner was subjected to a more intense aggression than any of the others, but otherwise Cato might as well have been just like any other Two Victor. Even now, separated by a TV screen, I feel the fearful effects of his gaze locked on me, promising a sadistic end.

"He's one to watch out for," Haymitch seems to agree, but something in his voice softens.

"What was that girl's name? The one he went in with, who died?" Peeta's curiosity spreads to me, and I wait for an answer. The train speeds across the rails in a soothing glide motion, designed to prevent motion sickness, but acrid bile rises in my throat nonetheless.

"Clove," I whisper as I recall the name. He screamed it back to her when she called for his help, desperation making his voice crack. Also, I remember he did an interview with Caesar last year to promote his own Tributes, and the conversation somehow derailed to the swirl of dark ink across his chest that was made visible by the V neckline of his shirt. His face went completely white when Caesar commented on how his tattoo, evidently of her name, was "such a sweet way to pay homage to a dead partner."

Needless to say, he wasn't interviewed again. Why exactly I noticed any of this, I'm not sure.

"He and Clove had a history," is all the information Haymitch gives us. "And now he's going back in. Young, fresh from his previous Victory, and still as strong and Trained. A little crazier too. Stay as far away from him as you can, probably for your safety."

"I was planning on it," I mutter. Nothing good ever came from extended contact with a Career. Still, now I can't shake the image of him and that girl dying in his arms from my mind.

[moowithmidnight]

One thing about me is I’m always gonna defend the Careers. What do you mean you don’t see the tragedy in kids so heavily brainwashed they think being forced to murder other kids is an honor? What do you mean you don’t think about how terrifying it must be for Career victors when the illusion breaks but they survive? What do you mean you don’t see the parallels between the 74th and 75th Careers and lose your mind?

[enobariasdistrict2]

the cato to annie pipeline is still real to me btw and something i think about because katniss is here thinking about both of them like "wow they are mentally ill" except she's legitimately scared of one and sees the other as docile/meek/an extension of her boyfriend/odd/non-threatening.

but what katniss doesn't seem to remember is annie came from a career district so not only could annie have easily been (and probably was) raised with a similar rhetoric/propaganda/mindset as cato but she also could have terrified the other kids in her arena the same way he did. they became trained killers but they're both exposed to the harsh realities of the arena, watch someone they care about die in a horrifically violent way, and lose themselves/their minds/what they were raised to believe in because of it

[iamliterallyjohannamason]

Not all men

Your right, winner of the 74th hunger games peeta 'if it weren't for the baby' mellark would never

[twobraincellkentwell]

A Game Of False Fates

"Being the sibling of a victor makes you a liability. The gamemakers will make certain that Clove has an interesting games in order to avoid the appearance of any favouritism."

"You've got to be shitting me!"

Clio's first year as a mentor was always supposed to be easy; lapping up attention in the Capitol and learning the ropes of securing sponsorships. She was never supposed to be helping her sister through the ins and outs of the arena, but what's done is done. She'll just have to make sure the nation is ready for their second Kentwell sister in succession.

Book Two of Five - ONGOING

Read Book One HERE

Book Two in the Cato Hadley X OC "Game" series. Takes place in the 74th Hunger Games.

This may also be posted on my AO3 and wattpad accounts under the same username: twobraincellkentwell.

READ ON AO3 HERE.

MASTERLIST PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN PART EIGHT PART NINE PART TEN PART ELEVEN PART TWELVE PART THIRTEEN PART FOURTEEN PART FIFTEEN PART SIXTEEN PART SEVENTEEN PART EIGHTEEN PART NINETEEN PART TWENTY PART TWENTY-ONE PART TWENTY-TWO PART TWENTY-THREE PART TWENTY-FOUR PART TWENTY-FIVE PART TWENTY-SIX

RELATED WORKS

Prequel (74th Games) Main Story (75th Games) Prequel (73rd and 72nd Games) Sequel (76th Games ;) onwards)

IMPORTANT SERIES INFORMATION

The timeline has clearly been altered for this series. Cato wins the 72nd and Clio wins the 73rd. A side relationship with Luna and Finnick is also featured.

This story is mainly set in the 74th Hunger Games (Capitol and Viewing Room) but obviously involves some chapters and scenes in the relevant districts. I'm using some canon and it will largely follow the plotline of both the first book and movie, but I'm going wildly off script given that the books aren't written from Katniss' POV and since she isn't the most reliable narrator when it comes to things outside of District 12, I've given myself lots of creative freedom and created lots of relevant district lore.

This book started out as a short fic but ended up turning into a whole series. I am planning on having five books revolving around Clio and Cato so you'll just have to trust the process a little. Yes the order of having the Quarter Quell in the first book is a little unusual, I promise it will all make sense in the end ;).

[hungryhungrygames]

ive seen a few posts saying that finnick isnt a career (which is a fine theory), but i feel like a lot of the posts say it in a way that demonizes careers?

narratively, it makes sense that katniss hates them, (brilliance of the games, makes the districts hate each other instead of hating the capitol), but i feel like we as readers should know better.

like cato at the end of the first movie saying “dead anyways, i always was. i didnt know that till now... one more kill, thats all i know how to do, not that it matters.” because even them being careers, they are still fucking traumatized just as much as the other tributes

[facefox]

it's a pity that i cannot let f.xface win her games without altering the plot of the series so drastically and dramatically and kind. of ruining the overall plot at that. but will that stop me from creating an au where that's exactly what i do? no, no it will not

[heartsbreaking-migrated]

vasilissa could admire the kind of killer that cato was. it wasn't her style. she was quiet and deadly, and that had always worked for her. it still worked for her. brute strength could be just as useful though, and he proved that. she'd been given access to his academy scores, and his scores from tribute training. and now, well, she saw further potential. she'd gone out of her way to find a time when he was alone, because she didn't intend to lie to him about her identity like she did with most people. she bided her time, not wanting to put him on edge. part of her had wanted to toy with him, to follow him for as long as she could before he realized, but even for her that was cruel, especially when she wanted someone on her side.

she'd never been in two, and she knew the longer she spent out in the open the more attention she'd draw. she didn't want just anyone's attention, she wanted his. she settled on finding him in his home, knocking sharply on the door and waiting. she stood on the stoop, the strange feeling of missing her own district washing over her. four was much different, but she hadn't been home since her games. she didn't see anything familiar and yet... she straightened, pushing away the thoughts of four and of the sea she forced herself not to miss. she had business here.

STARTER CALL | starter for @lazaruhs / cato orestes *

[beautycursed]

TW: Death. The details that set the canon events of Glimmer's Victor Verse.

The aftermath of the brutal competition had left only two tributes standing. Glimmer and Cato. However, the Capitol had one final malevolent twist awaiting them.

The arena, once vibrant with the echoes of tributes' struggles, had descended into a hallowed quiet. Shadows danced between the twisted trees, and Glimmer, the once untamed predator, now ran in a disoriented panic. Her blonde hair, usually a symbol of meticulous beauty, flew wildly behind her as she sprinted through the undergrowth, the crisp night air echoing with the haunting cries of the twisted muttations that prowled the arena. The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting a cold glow upon the grotesque spectacle that played out below.

Muttations, grotesque parodies of fallen tributes, slinked through the shadows. Glimmer's heart raced, pounding against her ribs like a desperate plea for escape. She knew they were closing in, a relentless nightmare nipping at her heels. Each breath she took was an echo of desperation, the haunting howls of the muttations serving as a macabre soundtrack to her flight. Glimmer's usually poised and composed demeanor had been shattered, replaced by the raw, unfiltered fear of a trapped animal. Her footsteps rustled through the foliage, a discordant symphony of panic.

In her frenzied escape, Glimmer stumbled upon Cato, his silhouette a stark contrast against the gloom. He stood poised, sword in hand, oblivious to the nightmares that lurked in the shadows. The stark dichotomy between his readiness and her unbridled terror struck Glimmer like a cruel jest played by the Capitol's sadistic puppeteers. A cruel irony hung in the air – he, the embodiment of strength and resilience, had yet to glimpse the horror that pursued them.

With trembling hands, Glimmer raised her bow, the string taut with the weight of an unspeakable burden. She looked into Cato's eyes, silently pleading for him to understand the unspeakable horror she was sparing him from. A heart-wrenching apology escaped her lips, the words choked with the sorrow of what had to be done. "I'm sorry-" She whispered, as if the apology could absolve them both of the nightmare they were living. Tears streamed down her face, a futile attempt to wash away the stain of the Capitol's cruelty.

The echo of her hushed apology mingling with the macabre chorus. "Cato." Her voice quivered, her words choosing a careful path through the fog of dread. The bow felt heavy in her hands, both a weapon of mercy and a tool of unfathomable consequence. She wished she could convey the depths of her sorrow, the magnitude of the mercy she was about to commit. It was an apology for the choice she was about to make—a mercy to shield Cato from the indescribable torment that awaited them.

The bowstring hummed, releasing the arrow on a trajectory that would bring swift release to the one she had once stood beside in solidarity.

"I can't let you see… what they've become." She murmured, her voice a fragile echo in the ghostly stillness. The arrow found its mark and the weight of the unspeakable burden was transferred from her shoulders to the haunting echoes of the arena. As Cato crumpled to the ground, the night bore witness to Glimmer's final act. That was it. The Game should have ended right then and there. Cato's canon fired in to the air, signalling his passing. No sooner than the sound filled the air, did all of the emotions Glimmer had been suppressing and refusing to feel, flooded her. She couldn't scream, her throat was too raw, too tight. She could barely cry, her eyes simply burned. The bow fell upon the ground as heavy feet carried her beside the body of the once ally, now fallen man. She gently placed his hands on his chest, a solemn gesture as if preparing a fallen soldier for rest. The weight of sorrow pressed upon her, tears blurring her vision. "I'm sorry, Cato." She whispered, her voice cracking with the agony of their shared ordeal. "This is the only mercy I can give you."

[ircnwrought]

@denydefeat (cato) liked for a clove starter !!

__________⚔    THE SWAYING OF THE TRAIN SHOULD BE COMFORTING. instead, she feels set adrift as the victory tour enters the outer districts. she places her chin on her knees as she pulls her legs to her chest. half way through, yet the anger threatens to burn a hole through her. she is dressed, paraded, told what to do as if she is nothing more than an object. a pawn in a game she was volunteered for the day she entered the hallowed ground of the academy. the whoosh of the compartment door causes her head to snap up, hands grasping for her nonexistent knife. only when she registers who it is does she allow herself to relax. old habits die hard. ❛   can't sleep either ??   ❜

[catilinas]

*thinks too hard about the afterlife in the pharsalia and explodes into a puddle of goo*

[districtfourmermaid]

Hunger Games Dance Party

I'll call it at 2h. It's relatively chronological with some special character songs at the end. There's a lot of CF-MJ overlap, but I'll list the rebellion stuff in the MJ section.

Ballad

Little Light of Mine - mainly Maude Ivory, Lucy Gray. Get some Prim vibes, too.

Devil's Dance Floor - Covey, Hob, Snow and Lucy Gray. Extra for the Odesta wedding.

Fuck with a Witch - Lucy Gray at the end, Snow from then on.

Hunger Games and Arena in General

Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) - Reaping, Katniss volunteering.

Here Come the Wolves - Hardening into a competitor.

You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - Haymitch, Katniss, or Mentor relationships in general. Career vibes.

Lights Out - the spectacle of violence, Career mentality.

Insanely Illegal Cage Fight - Career mentality, arena brutalism. Extra Enobaria vibes.

Worm - Career mentality, Clove vibes.

Hunting Grounds - General arena vibes, allies who will turn on each other eventually.

The One to Survive - Katniss, general arena vibes, Victory.

Catching Fire and the Quarter Quell

Title Holder - Victor vibes, training for the Quell

Blood // Water - injustice of the Games, Quell arena

Know Your Enemy - budding revolution, "remember who the real enemy is."

Thunderstorm - rebellion, Quell arena, shooting the forcefield. Extra Johanna vibes.

Mockingjay and the Rebellion

Riot - rebellion in the Districts, Gale.

Pumping - rebellion, Districts joining the cause.

Revolution - rebellion, Gale.

Are You Ready - rebellion, Districts standing together, Gale.

Hero of the Day - asking Katniss to be the Mockingjay.

The Only One - Katniss just starting as the Mockingjay, unsure of herself.

The Game is Over - gaining confidence in being the Mockingjay.

Fly Like an Eagle - Katniss accepting her role as the Mockingjay, rebellion.

Use My Voice - Katniss, confidence as the Mockingjay, propaganda.

I am the Fire - Katniss vibes, rebellion, confidence.

Back From the Dead - Katniss towards the end of Mockingjay.

Control - defeat of the Capitol and Coin.

Special Character Songs

Haunted House - Annie's Games, trauma

Brittle - Annie as the Mad Girl, Johanna post-torture.

Broken Pieces Shine - Annie, plus Finnick and their healing together.

Blindside - Johanna's strategy in her Games. Bit of Annie probably, but less canon.

Rage - Johanna, fiesty, refusing the Capitol and "no one left that she loves."

Move Forward - Johanna training with Katniss in Mockingjay, facing the rain.

Float - Haymitch

I Don't Wanna Be Funny Anymore - Effie at the end of Mockingjay.

[stephsycamore]

I think the most radical thing the hunger games does is tell young people that the most revolutionary thing you can do is have unconditional love for humanity. Katniss throughout the entire series is guided by a deep sense of compassion for the people around her. It is what causes her to volunteer, to bury rue, to mercy kill cato, its why she tries to save peeta, why finnick telling her to remember who the real enemy is works, and even though her compassion for the larger world falters when peeta is kidnapped, it comes back when she visits hospitals and asks for mercy for other victors and ultimately, it is love and belief in a better humanity that makes her kill coin. Through it all, she maintains an unfaltering belief in the fundemental goodness of humanity, which is diametrically opposed to dr gaul's and snow's worldview. Peeta is even more unwaveringly compassionate

So the series tells young people that the most revolutionary thing you can be is compassionate. Let compassion drive your politics. Let yourself believe in the fundemental goodness of people. And i think that's deeply important in a world that touts the superiority of pure reason or logic, to allow yourself to be guided by something as emotional as compassion. Katniss everdeen tells us that your politics should be rooted in compassion in a world that thinks detatchment or cynicism is intelligence and i think thats v cool

[hijckcd]

@gl4diator said : ❛   look at it that way. you're probably safer than i am.   ❜

undoubtedly there is understanding regarding where his claim hailed from. from the outside , she was deemed untouchable. hailed pet of the president himself. protected from the public , seemingly immune to the district's distastes in her continued existence. but the side the world was blinded to was one much darker in it's feats. reality was safe was not something she was , not in the slightest. a singular misstep in the eyes of snow lead to punishments she herself , no matter how highly she carried herself , sent an overwhelming fear through her. so when heeding cato's words , listening as he donned of her seemingly guaranteed safety made her body ache beneath her manicured skin.

❛   being safe is objective.   ❜ words picked carefully as not to lead the other to sprout deeper questions. eyes were everywhere after all. ❛   you should know out of any others , like you were taught back home , that threats are around every corner. there will always been someone , somewhere , that wants you dead. even more so if you are the one to walk out of the arena.   ❜

[twobraincellkentwell]

Too Little Too Late

[A Game Of False Fates]

Part Two

Series Masterlist Part One

Summary: Clio's first year as a mentor was always supposed to be easy; lapping up attention in the Capitol and learning the ropes of securing sponsorships. She was never supposed to be helping her sister through the ins and outs of the arena, but what's done is done. She'll just have to make sure the nation is ready for their second Kentwell sister in succession.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Knife throwing. Siblings.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I completely forgot that in order to have a fic on here, I actually have to post it whoops. It's updated without fail every Tuesday on Wattpad and AO3 (Same user and fic name) if you'd prefer to head over there. But I'm going to finish it here too, only about four left on wp.

Friendly reminder that this is a Cato fic so obviously I'm not going to be subjecting my mans to the dogs (I'm not that cruel), and so the name of the male tribute is completely made up but also somewhat developed (you'll see ;) )

Second reminder to read book one (A Game Called Revenge) first for the intended order.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

4th of July 74PD

Clio lets herself into her parent's house - it's not hers, not anymore - and throws open the door to Clove's room. The children in the academy are permitted to sleep in their own homes the night before the Reaping if they live within the immediate vicinity of the district's principal city, and given that the Kentwell's have lived just a few minutes walk away from the main square for decades, it's something that Clio, and now Clove, have always done despite hating growing to hate their parents. Even if you aren't selected to be the volunteer, Reaping Day is a national holiday and so it's one of the few days of the year where the members of the Academy can sleep in. Seeing her sister still sleeping, her thin blanket pulled up to touch her chin resting on the pillow, Clio throws a cold glass of water right onto her bed to wake her.

"What the fuck?" Clove startles, bolting straight up and shaking her head to send as many droplets of water flying at her sister as possible. The water drips in her eyes and Clove pushes her ponytail back to stop it from soaking through the front of her pyjama top. Her damp skin comes in contact with the air - it's not a cold day, but that's up for debate when you're soaking wet - and glares at her sister. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Besides the fact that you're obviously deranged!"

"Get up." Clio says, ignoring the insult and placing the glass of water on the bedside table. "We need to talk."

"It's a holiday." Clove whines but she gets up anyway, grumbling as her parents rush into the room, still with sleep in their inner eyes.

"Clio?" Her mum says, watching the way that her youngest daughter pries her wet top from her chest and wrings out her hair. Onto Clio's feet. "What are you doing here so early?"

"It's half eight." Clio shrugs. "That's not early. Besides, I need to talk to Clove."

"Early enough for a public holiday." Her dad scolds, landing his gaze on Clove before moving to Clio. "The reaping doesn't start until two, you can continue her training later on. She wasn't good enough to volunteer this year so you will have plenty of time to talk."

Clove rolls her eyes, pulling an athletic top and a dark pair of leggings from her wardrobe as her dad leaves the room with a huff. She'll have to change before the Reaping but she's not about to tear her new, expensive, white lace dress that is courtesy of her sister's new victor's payments. The sun is creeping higher and higher in the sky with every passing moment and they can both practically feel the tension in the air as the entire district seems to be holding their breath, waiting to bid goodbye to the two selected tributes. The younger girl rushes to throw on her clothes, ignoring the shouts from her parents and following her sister out of the door. They don't have to go far, walking quickly past the plaza in the centre of the city which is being decorated for the afternoon's reaping, and into Clio's house in Victor's Village. Clove trails behind her sister and she follows her down the stairs into her basement. In the month she spent on her victory tour after her win, the Capitol, funded by one of the highly-paid head gamemakers, converted her empty basement into a rage room fit with moving targets and a knife sharpening block.

"I know that the younger kids would die to be in here, given that you're like their new hero but then again most of them don't know that you're actually a huge bitch who enjoys ruining her sister's mornings off and depriving her of her desperately needed rest." Clio says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why am I here and, you know, not asleep."

"I spoke to Ebony last night." Clio replies, watching as her sister freezes under her glare. "Is there anything you need to tell me?"

"Nope!" Clove chirps, reaching to pull one of the knives from the rack beside the targets, flipping it in her palm, eyes focused on the polished blade. "Nothing to tell you. So, if you'll just leave. Let me use this time-"

Clio pinches her nose between two fingers and Clove has to duck her head to hide the grin spreading across her face as she throws one of the knives at the stationary target on the wall. "I'm serious, Clove. You can't do this."

Clove freezes for a second, turning to face herself and looking closely at her sister. Dark circles are present under Clio's eyes, looking exhausted and tired as she looks at her baby sister in a way that could make her feel small under her gaze, despite the fact that the older sister is three inches shorter. She shrugs, attention returning back to one of the blades in her hand. "I'm more than ready. I'm nearly sixteen, and have had more than enough training. You don't learn anything past now anyway, otherwise they would never have let you and Cato volunteer."

"That's the point, Clove." Clio snaps, the fire returning back to her voice. "Just wait your turn and then you can receive the ultimate glory from winning a quarter quell. There'll be kids from District Twelve older than you."

"I don't see why it matters how old I am." Clove counters. "And you've been training me for the past eight months since your win. You've told me yourself that I'm good."

Clio puts her hands on her hips, scowling at her sister with eyes as cold as ice, just wishing that she would - for once - listen to her. The same scowl on her face that she wore all through her Games, fed up with the idiots she was allied with. "Can you please just trust Enobaria's judgement on this one."

"She let you go in at sixteen so no I won't trust her judgement until she gives me a reason why I can't. You're my sister, of course you don't want me stealing your limelight." Clove puts her hands on her hips, purposefully mirroring her older sister, spotting an eye roll from her when she realises what she's doing as she drops her arms back to her sides. Her grin only gets her another eye roll in response

"It's not about the bloody limelight Clove." Clio sighs, "It's about you not being ready for this."

"Now you sound like dad."

"You take that back!" Clio smacks her sister's bare upper arm with the back of her hand. "It's not that I don't think you are, it's just that if you didn't win the tribute trials you can't just go out there and volunteer. Sure, you placed first but you weren't given the role."

"Well, that is what you think, isn't it."

Clio narrows her eyes suspiciously at her sister who is trying her best to look innocent. To anyone else it would look like she's doing a pretty good job, but Clio knows her sister too well, and she's not buying it. "What I think," she says, slowly. "Is that you're not listening to a word I'm saying."

"I am!" The younger sister protests, watching Clio's lips twitch as she lets out a half-cough that sounds suspiciously like she's trying to hold back a laugh.

"Fine." Clio relents. "If Ebony hesitates for five seconds, which she won't by the way, then you can raise your hand."

"Deal-"

"And only if you can hit every single one of these targets." Clio cuts her off, pointing to the various targets around the room, holding a knife out in her palm.

Her sister takes the knife from her, and Clio moves to the far right hand corner of the room to start up the moving targets on the track that runs parallel to the door to the basement. She moves back to stand behind her sister, watching her every move as Clove assumes a stance that is both relaxed and ready, with her feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent just a touch and her shoulders square. Her gaze locks on the two moving targets and her muscles tense when she draws her arm back, knife becoming an extension of her right wrist. With a flick of the wrist, the knife spins gracefully through the air until it embeds itself with a satisfying thud into the wooden surface of the target and the track stops rolling and another knife is launched in the opposite direction in quick succession. Clove looks at her older sister for approval. Clio nods and silently gestures for her to go again. She does. And again. For at least two hours.

"How long has she been down here?" Cato says as he enters the basement level of his girlfriend's house, announcing his presence.

At the sound of another voice in the room, Clove spins on her heel and a knife leaves her hand, flying through the room towards Cato's head. Fortunately, having grown up with the two Kentwell girls, he has already predicted that a knife would more than likely be slung at his face and he has already twisted out of the way, and the knife lands in the wall. "What time is it?"

"Just gone eleven." He replies, moving to stand beside his girlfriend, who watches her sister's expression intently as if she can read her thoughts, and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

"Go home and get ready, Clover." Clio says as her sister turns off the target track. She glances her up and down as she turns back to start her walk home, choosing to ignore the disapproving scrunch of her nose at the nickname and gives her a soft squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll be home in a few weeks time and we can talk about next year."

"But—" Clove protests, eyebrows shooting up in indignation.

"No. I'm not just doing this for the sake of it, Clove. It's for your own good."

"But you said–" She tries again.

"I know what I said but fucking forget it, alright?" Clio snaps back, the hold she has on her infamous anger slipping slowly. "You're too young."

"I don't know how you can stand there and say that when the both of you volunteered at sixteen." Clove screams back, making her sister roll her eyes, and making the younger girl wish she could take a swing at her. She might, just to prove a point. "You both went and got all the fame and love at sixteen so why can't I? I'd turn sixteen in the arena!"

"Because you don't have to!" Clio yells, walking towards her sister as she stands on the first stair. Her voice is quieter when she continues. "I have enough money to support you for the rest of your life. You can come and live with me and you can learn to cook properly like you want to. You don't have to go in to prove dad wrong. Who cares what he thinks?"

Clove takes the dismissal for what it is and heads up the stairs, ignoring the footsteps of the two victors behind her; purposefully ignoring her sister. She continues to ignore Clio as she walks through the kitchen, not even flinching at the sight of a giant basket of cinnamon rolls on the island that wasn't there earlier in the morning. "See you at the Reaping, Cato." She says and slams the door behind her.

Part Three

[daydreamer-in-reverie]

Started rereading the Hunger Games series and I feel like it’s so overlooked how in 74th and 75th Hunger Games, we don’t know every Tribute’s names, with Katniss only referring to them by their District numbers but in TBOSAS, we knew every single Tribute by name. We associated them with the clothes they wore on the Reaping Day and Suzanne even goes so far as to describe how they looked, however briefly. We see these Tributes and we’re familiarized with them by the little tidbits provided to the mentors and to Snow and Lucy Gray. But we never get this in the original trilogy.

In two generations, President Snow alienated the Districts from each other so much that Katniss didn’t even care to know all the names of the Tributes sent into the Arena with her, with the exception being those who posed great risk against her safety and those she felt great compassion for (e.g. Cato, Thresh, Rue, Mags, Betee, Wiress etc.). Katniss even went so far as to call the D6 Tributes in the 75th Hunger Games morphlings, for their affinity to imbibe in the drugs that help them forget their own traumas (an incredibly hurtful description, in my own opinion, to be known by the qualities you hate the most about yourself). We never know the real name of the 74th D5 girl, with Katniss only referring to her as Foxface and we don’t even know Marvel’s name until we get to the second book and he was Katniss’ first personal kill. Katniss even kills the D4 girl in the books with the same tracker jacker venom that killed Glimmer and yet still, we don’t know her name. We are so removed from the identity of the other Tributes that we don’t even know what some of them looked like beyond brief descriptions of mangled bodies and dead Tributes in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia.

And, the thing is, Suzanne established the importance of names in the series. Even in real life, we recognize the importance of being named. It is a fundamental aspect of being human. If you’re ever in a perilous situation where a person might be placing your life in danger, we’re told to remind the person that you’re human. “Keep saying your name, how old you are, where you came from. Remind them you are a human being just like them.” Before any propaganda can work against a group of people, refusing to recognize a person’s name is the first step to dehumanization. And just like the people of the Districts, we don’t care enough about the other Tributes to even want to know their names. Their propaganda worked on us, the readers.

In two generations, President Snow completely wiped out any sense of familiarity and camaraderie the Districts may have shared with the other. In two generations, Snow sowed the seeds of distrust and division into the Districts so deeply that even we, the readers, were affected by the effects of Capitol propaganda. In two generations, the Districts ceased to genuinely care about the others beyond the vague sense of injustice they feel for their shared plight. It’s why Career Districts don’t seem to care about killing the other Tributes. How can you care, to show your compassion and humanity, when you can barely see them as people? Yes, they may have been in the Arena with you. Yes, they may have been starved and beaten and forced into labor like you were. Yes, they might be children just like you. Yes, they might be subjected to the same deplorable system that turned you into virtual slaves. But they are not your friends. They are not your allies. They are strange, with different customs and traditions that you have. You do not share the same values. They do not care about you. At the first chance they get, they will kill you with your bare hands and they will do it with alacrity if it meant their survival. There can only be one Victor and it can’t be them. It has to be you.