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#drunk haymitch
districtunrest · 6 months
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'drunk uncle' being used to equate what Haymitch is to Katniss and Peeta after the war has never sat right with me. idk it just doesn't seem like enough to describe what he is to them? like that's their 'not-my-dad-but,' not the vulgar, bigoted relative you don't want to invite to Christmas but have to, which is what 'drunk uncle' tends to evoke
and they are very much his kids, even if it's not outright daughter and son. like that's still much closer to what Haymitch thinks of them than a niece or nephew, isn't it? bittersweet as it is, he is probably going to know Katniss and Peeta longer than their actual dads did, though obviously they were there for the start of their lives and not him. but it's not overshadowing so much as... filling the role? even if he fills it out much differently? idk
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moon-mirage · 6 months
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Your biblically accurate Haymitch is everything to me, he's my fave character! If you ever wanted to make me cry and take an elaborate request, I'd love to see your take on Haymitch remembering his family/his girl in a half-drunken haze. Or even his devastation after the announcement of the Third Quarter Quell and he's remembering snippets of his Games while drunk at his kitchen table! :'(
So, a happy request for your favourite character then? I love it when people go "X is my favourite character… now make them suffer!" 😂
Now, it’s not like l want to make you cry but since you asked for it:
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pumpkinrootbeer · 6 months
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sorry for haymitch posting constantly but the funniest thing to me is in his games there was nothing outwardly suggesting everything was poison but his paranoid ass saw fresh water and went "it's a trap" and the hilarious part is he was right
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saturnbourne · 5 months
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I have wiped the haymitch x reader tag clean, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. SOMEONE PLEASE. I NEED MORE!!!! I AM STARVING!!!!!
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katnissmellarkkk · 7 months
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bookcomb for every time someone picked katniss up throughout the series 🩷.
-
He steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy.
-
“Take her out,” says my mother. Haymitch and Peeta literally carry me from the room while I shout obscenities at her. They pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until I stop fighting.
-
My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there.
-
Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television.
-
Over his shoulder, I see my mother and Prim clutching each other in the doorway.
[…]
My knees give way and he’s holding me up. As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.
When I wake up, I barely get to the toilet before the white liquor makes its reappearance.
[…]
I turn on the shower and stand under the warm rain for a minute before I realize I’m still in my underclothes. My mother must have just stripped off my filthy outer ones and tucked me in bed.
-
“It’s not him, Katniss! It’s a mutt!” Finnick shouts at me. “Come on!” He moves me along, half dragging, half carrying me, until I can process what he said.
-
I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.
“It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers.”
-
“We’re to get to the airstrip. Immediately,” Boggs says, lifting me to my feet with one hand. “There’s a problem.”
-
Boggs quickly examines my face, then scoops me up and jogs for the runway. Halfway there, I puke on his bulletproof vest. It’s hard to tell because he’s short of breath, but I think he sighs.
-
The others are shouting at me, but I can’t seem to respond. Strong arms lift me as I blast the head off a mutt whose claws have just grazed my ankle. I’m slammed into the ladder. Hands shoved against the rungs. Ordered to climb. My wooden, puppet limbs obey.
-
I transform into a wild animal, kicking, clawing, biting, doing whatever I can to free myself from this web of hands as the crowd pushes in. The guards lift me up above the fray, where I continue to thrash as I’m conveyed over the crush of people.
-
Home? What’s he talking about? My home’s gone. And even if it were possible to go to this imaginary place, I am too weak to move. Strangers appear. Rehydrate and feed me. Bathe and clothe me. One lifts me like a rag doll and carries me up to the roof, onto a hovercraft, and fastens me into a seat. Haymitch and Plutarch sit across from me. In a few moments, we’re airborne.
-
“She’s dead.” I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. “She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.” A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair. Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won’t go. He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually I fall unconscious.
[…]
Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he’s there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.
-
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handmemyshovel · 7 months
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haymitch exists. do you have any idea how happy that makes me?
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porcelana-r0ta · 1 year
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haha yeah I'm doing really well rn. Oh don't mind my tiktok fyp hahaha it's just hunger games analysis and banana fish edits. No I don't need therapy lol why would you ask that?????
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enslaughts · 1 year
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@wildkissed. . . katniss everdeen.
' everything i do makes everything worse. '
the words taste sour in his mouth even though he's not the one who says them. far on the back of his tongue, tucked around the molars, his wisdom teeth. funny. or maybe it's the brandy he has in his back pocket— or rather had ; now just a lonely, empty bottle with a too - loose lid all dented and warped from his own fingers adding and removing it all throughout the day. he didn't need to carry it with him, not here, on this metal tube careening between districts at speeds high enough to turn your stomach if your nerves weren't doing it for you, but it's familiar, this way. well - oiled, to reach back and forth from his own pockets with these rusted joints instead of going the distance to the wine cabinet or the small cupboard next to the coffee table next to the television none of them want to turn on.
he's out of his depth. she is too. he's not sure they're waters meant to be tread by people at all, is the real bitch of the matter. [ even though they do. they are. ] stingrays, maybe. sharks. piranhas.
“   you do have an uncanny ability. . .   ” he concedes, though his voice is a quiet sound, lips quirking down at the corners. he reaches for that bottle again, instinct slippery, just to feel it in his hands. a blink, and the cap is twisting again. lefty - loosey, righy - tighty. he blinks again and looks at her even though she's looking away, at nothing, gaze all glazed over something that's not happening anymore, but did happen. not more than an hour or so ago. peacekeeper white wrapped around overcast black, finger on the trigger and squeezing. always squeezing. “   you give yourself too much credit, kid,   ” louder, this time, as if he can drag her back to the present through sheer volume alone. as if he wants to. the present is just the same thing somewhere else. “   everything was already worse.   ”
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Sorry for talking abt coping methods as protection of one's image so much I watched NGE 2 years ago and the AT field thing just sort of stucks around. Now it's a constant theme.
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oph3liatlou · 4 months
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REQUESTS
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help me out here, i want to know what you guys would like to see in terms of fanfics. i have my character/fandom list in my pinned post - if i don’t have the character you’d like, message me or put it in my request box and i will try to write it (not all of my fandoms are listed there).
please request some stuff - im having writers block!!
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atleastmymomlikesme · 6 months
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Other than Haymitch, which victors are your favorite 👀👀
-xoxo your holiday exchange author <3
Greetings, mysterious holiday anon! I like all the victors quite a bit, though I do confess a soft spot for Johanna, Wiress, and Chaff.
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writing a parody of giles in this trans buffy fic and idk if naming him miles harker is too much..................
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reelaroundparis · 1 year
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GUYS. when i say i love haymitch i do not mean the black-out drunk, 'violent' haymitch abernathy i quite literally mean the one that advocated against his tribute becoming a sex symbol/stopping the capitol from physically altering her body, the one that made hefty sacrifices for both his tributes at times, the one that sleeps with a knife and the lights on out of safety, the one haunted by his past with little sparks of hope left inside of the rubble of his current self. the one that did so much and was pretty much glossed over despite how much was revealed about him. the seam boy with a fire that never was put out, but dimmed as he grew. the one that outlived 47 tributes and manipulated the arena with his intelligence that is so HEAVILY slept on. THAT, is my haymitch. not the one that fell off the stage, or puked on the rug, or anything that would turn him into some sort of joke because he's not. to me he's a little like the hidden meaning of an art piece, symbolic and aching like the painter who put their feelings on canvas.
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nebulaafterdark · 6 months
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Exile (Part 1)
Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves
Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY
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It’s a crisp autumn morning when Y/N wakes to a pounding at her door.
Bam!
Bam!
Bam!
She rushes down, still in her pajamas, flinging open the door to see what the emergency is.
Haymitch, her former mentor.
Haymitch, the town drunk.
Haymitch, her…friend?
“Haymitch, what’s wrong?” Y/N asks, moving away from the doorway as he stumbles in. Clearly intoxicated. Not in his right mind.
“I fucked up.” He snarls, anger rolling off him in waves.
“What do you mean?” Y/N follows him, until he comes to a stop, in her living room, pacing and pacing. Ready to come out of his skin.
“Congratulations, we’re getting hitched.”
“What?!”
“Snow…I don’t fucking know.” Haymitch scowls, “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Haymitch, please, what’s going on?” Her tone is frantic now, to match his own.
“He told me he wanted you to come work in the Capitol and I-“ Haymitch drags a hand over his face. “I lost it.”
“Work in the Capitol? Like as a stylist?” Y/N tries to make sense of it.
Haymitch lets out a bitter scoff, “this is just perfect. You are so- of course I have to be the one to tell you. Of course it has to be me who-” breaks your heart.
“Help me understand.” Y/N puts a hand out towards him. “I need you to tell me. Otherwise I’m clueless and I can’t help you if I’m clueless.”
“Help me? I’m trying to help you!”
“Tell me how.” Y/N tries again. “Tell me how getting married helps me. Or you, or anyone.”
“If I marry you, Snow won’t sell you.” There it is. The truth in it’s horrible entirety.
“He wouldn’t do that.” Y/N gasps.
“He would and he wants to.” Haymitch assures her. “Bad.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me while I was…”
“While you were what?”
“Do you need me to spell it out?” Haymitch spits, his voice full of venom. “While I was fucking the highest bidder so you didn’t have to!”
Her eyes grow wide, welling with tears. That doesn’t make sense.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that.”
“I’m just,” she fumbles for the words. “I didn’t know. I could’ve married you before and-”
“And what?” Haymitch demands, taking a step toward her. “It’s bad enough that I have to make you my child bride-”
“I’ll be twenty in a few months.”
“And I’ll be thirty.” He says, pointedly. “Before you’re twenty.”
“Ten years and some change is not unmanageable. I’m sure lots of people-”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I get it, you don’t want to marry me. I don’t particularly want to marry you either. But more than that, I don’t want anything happening to you when I have the power to stop it. I know you feel the same way or you wouldn’t have agreed to this when Snow brought it up. If we just work together, we don’t have to be miserable.” Y/N offers, wringing her hands anxiously.
“I want to keep my house.” Haymitch tells her.
“Sure.” Y/N has no qualms about it.
“And my liquor.”
“Of course.”
“What are your demands?” His blue eyes are frantic, wild.
Demands; as though they’re negotiating a business deal. “I want you to be honest with me about what’s happening.”
“Fine.”
“I want you to stop blaming yourself for everything that happens to me. It’s not your fault.”
“I’ll try.”
“And never refer to me your child bride.”
“Deal.”
“One more thing.” Y/N says, it’s more of an afterthought really.
“Name it.”
“I don’t want to be trapped in a loveless marriage. I want it to be real someday.”
He narrows his gaze, “ok.”
“Congratulations,” Y/N repeats his earlier sentiment. “We’re getting hitched.”
————————————————————————
The wedding is thrown together in a flash. In under a week, to be exact. Y/N’s family, Madge especially, doesn’t understand.
I thought you hated him?
When you’re older, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.
She protects her, because that’s what big sisters do.
All through the ceremony, the poofy wedding dress scratches at her skin. As if it knows she doesn’t belong.
The crowd of Capitol witnesses is massive, no family or friends. When it is over, the happy couple is escorted to their ‘honeymoon’ suite. A pristine, white room, with ivory bedding; topped with pale rose petals to match.
On the side table, a sealed envelope.
‘Mr. & Mrs. Abernathy,
tonight is cause for great celebration. One to be shared with beloved members of Panem. You will find cameras against the side walls, set to begin commemorating this joyous occasion, at 7:00pm this evening. I am sure you will perform accordingly, to ensure the safety of those you hold most dear.
Best regards,
President Snow.’
“We have to-“ Y/N chokes over the words.
“Tell me what you like.” Haymitch says, shrugging off his suit jacket.
“What I like?” Not this, anything but this.
“Look, we only have a few minutes to get warmed up before those cameras come on, there’s no time to be coy about it. Tell me how you like to have sex.”
“I don’t,” Y/N stammers, “I don’t know. I’ve never-”
“You’re a virgin?” Haymitch pales.
Y/N nods.
“Ok,” he shakes his head, to clear it. “That’s ok.” There’s nothing they can do about it now.
She’s shaking, trembling from head to toe. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re ok.” Haymitch soothes a hand up her arm. “I’ll never hurt you.”
Y/N nods again, “I know.”
“We’re gonna figure this out together, alright? But I need you to talk to me, let me know if you’re uncomfortable or if you don’t like something and we’ll reroute.” He can’t stop this, but he can make it good for her. He can get her through it.
“Ok,” Y/N sighs. Trusting him. Giving herself over to him.
They start with a kiss, his hands cradling her face as the cameras come to life. There are two, fully articulated and seeming to move of their own accord. But clearly they are being operated to catch the best angles.
After a while, Haymitch pulls back, slightly. His lips brushing hers as he murmurs, “I’m going to unzip your dress.”
Y/N startles at the words, toying with the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them to distract herself. She is trembling again.
Haymitch catches her hands in his, peppering them with kisses to calm her.
When they are both down to their underwear, Haymitch lies her back on the bed, situating her against the plush pillows. “Comfortable?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Good,” he half smiles. His lips meet hers, hands coming up to palm her bare breasts.
Her nipples tighten into peaks and she lets out a pretty little gasp.
“You’re perfect, you know that?” Haymitch breathes. “An angel. My angel.” He closes his thumb and forefinger around her left nipple, rolling it between his fingers.
Y/N cries out. She needs- she wants...
“Here.” Haymitch cooes, bringing his thigh flush with her sex.
“Haymitch,” her voice is pinched. Brows furrowed, sweaty and overwhelmed and all but sobbing.
“I’m right here, angel.” He noses at her cheek. “Never let anybody hurt you. Only make you feel good.”
And he does.
So heartbreakingly, mind numbingly good. Lowering his mouth to her right breast.
Y/N works herself to a fever pitch against his thigh. Grinding against him as he licks and plucks at her nipples. Coming apart against the coarse hairs of his leg.
“So pretty,” he encourages her to ride out her high. “My pretty wife.”
Oh. That’s right. She is his wife. The word twists uncomfortably in her gut. She isn’t supposed to like it. But she does. Haymitch is her husband and she is wife and the rest…really just semantics.
Through the cloud of lust fogging up her brain, Y/N registers that he is moving. A peck against her lips and then lower, lower, lower, “oh!” Her back arches, head pressing against the pillow.
He’s going to kill her, Y/N realizes. He’s going to kill her softly, with his face buried between her thighs. With his mouth on her…
“Haymitch,” the sound of her voice is light, dreamy and he sighs into her wetness. She’s going to kill him. God, she tastes like heaven. And sin. Her hands find his hair, holding him tight to her cunt.
“You can move, angel.” He whispers the reassurance into her heat.
Y/N whines, bucking up against his tongue.
“That’s it, sweet girl.” Fuck my face. Use me. Let me make it better.
“That feels so good.” Her brows pull together and her breathing hitches as his fingers join the exquisite torture. Stretching her open, getting her ready for him. Because Haymitch will never let anyone hurt her.
He sends her careening over the edge a second time.
How many times could she possibly-
She’s so wet by the time he poises himself at her entrance, any nervousness nearly lulled to submission.
“Just you and me.”
The head of him slides in easily, her eyes the size of saucers as he reaches her hymen.
He eases a hand between them, thumbing at her clit, soothing her, distracting her. “Just a little pinch.” He coos, feeling her tense. “I need you to relax.”
To her credit, she does try. Y/N is no stranger to pain but this is different, so different. He’s splitting her open, on the inside. “Ahh,” she squeals as he bottoms out.
“There you go.” Haymitch murmurs, sealing his lips over hers in a haughty kiss. He doesn’t move, only his fingers do, brushing her clit incessantly.
Her orgasm catches them both off guard. Haymitch affords her an appreciative grunt as her muscles spasm around him. But he never stops kissing her, drinking her in.
“You can move,” she says, after a long moment.
He fucks her so sweetly her heart aches. Like he loves her, like she’s the most precious thing in the world. Coaxing her slowly towards another climax.
Oh, no, no.
“It’s too much.” Y/N whines.
“I’ve got you.”
“I can’t,” she wails, feeling the coil tighten in her belly.
“You can, I promise.” Haymitch presses his forehead to hers, drawing gentle circles on her swollen bundle of nerves. “Nice and slow.”
Her fingers are in his hair, desperately clinging to him. “I’m-“ going to cum. Y/N realizes, much to her dismay.
“Good girl, angel.” Haymitch kisses her, swallowing her pleasure. “Such a good, sweet, girl.”
She’s overworked, overly sensitive, but his fingers circle and circle her bundle of nerves. Aching and slick with her arousal, the obscene sound of Haymitch moving inside her makes Y/N dizzy. It’s too much, too good and she’s too full.
Hot tears spill from the corners of her eyes and she’s sobbing. Cumming hot and hard all over his cock. Squeezing him, milking him for all he’s worth as she keeps cumming and cumming and cumming…
“Fuck,” Y/N cries, “holy fuck.”
Haymitch presses sloppy kisses to her damp cheek. “That’s fucking perfect, angel.” He empties himself inside her. Slumping against her, hiding her from view of the cameras. Not that it matters now.
She runs a hand along his back, absently.
When the cameras turn off and fold in on themselves, Haymitch pulls away.
Staring at her face, long and hard. Inspecting her for damage. But she looks content, sated.
“How did I do?” She asks, sweetly and he wants to die.
Rolling off of her without explanation and making a mad dash for the toilet. Managing to lock the door behind himself, before emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
When he returns, Y/N is curled in on herself, shoulders shaking. This is it, what he’d been afraid of.
He comes around, kneeling on the side of the bed, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry, angel.”
“I’m sorry. I was just nervous, I’ll do better next time.” Her bottom lip quivers.
Oh, honey. Sweetheart. Angel. Don’t fucking do this to me. “You were perfect.”
“I made you sick.”
“No, please never think that I- that wasn’t because of you. Nothing you did. Just this whole thing is fucked. I didn’t want…to take anything else from you. It’s bad enough that you had to marry me, you shouldn’t have had to- and with the cameras-“ Haymitch breaks off again, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“So you didn’t hate…being with me?”
He shakes his head.
Y/N draws in a shuttering breath, attempting to settle her nerves.
“Come on, let’s get you in the bath.”
————————————————————————-
At her request, Haymitch doesn’t leave her alone. Instead he insists on bathing her.
She hisses as she leans up, the soreness between her thighs making itself known.
“I’ll get you something for that.” Haymitch frowns at the discomfort etched into her features.
A pill. Something for the pain.
“I’m ok,” Y/N shakes her head. I don’t want you to leave me.
“I know.” Haymitch assures her, “but you don’t have to be.” I’m going to take care of you now.
She leans into his touch as he continues running the damp cloth over her skin. “That feels nice, thank you.”
“Anytime.” He won’t let her rub her skin raw, the way he had after the first time he had to- Anything for you.
“I still want it to be real one day.”
“You tell me when it’s real and I’ll ask you to marry me again.”
“K.” Y/N tucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
Haymitch knows he’s in trouble then. When she’s looking at him like that. He knows it as he dries her off, dressing her in an oversized shirt meant for him. Knows it as she cries herself to sleep, curled up against his chest. He’ll burn this world to the ground for her.
Part 2
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One thing I feel like we don't talk about enough is the fact that Haymitch was 16 when he won the Second Quarter Quell, against 47 other children, 12 Careers among them.
We often see him portrayed as a drunk and a lazy bastard, but the amount of skill and cunning it takes to survive THE HARDEST HUNGER GAMES IN HISTORY. No one understands how he's managed to survive an arena with twice the tributes, or even figure out how the poison works. But Haymitch just doesn't trust the excess, the berries, the green. And he's lived with hunger before. He can take it for a while. When he finds his first body in the arena, the perfectly brown nuts still in his hands, he decides not to eat anything but what's in his backpack. Then, after killing two Careers and being saved from death by Maysilee, they team up and figure out a system to safely drink the rainwater and kill other tributes and scavenge from their backpacks, to make sure that they don't die from poisoning. And being skilled enough at fighting to pressure the Career into throwing her ax at him. Even with half his guts hanging out she apperently wanted none of the smoke. And not only understanding from previous Games, apperently, that the arena ends somewhere, but using it to his advantage. It is astounding.
Then he comes back and the Capitol kills everyone he cares about. This 16 year old boy is surviving the most brutal onslaught in the history of the Games and comes home, traumatized, hurt beyond belief, both mentally and physically - seeing an ally and friend die in his arms, almost dying from taking an axe to the stomach, having to kill no less than 3 Careers - only to see his family and girlfriend murdered.
And as if that isn't enough, he has to spend the next 24 years watching his tributes, all of them the same age he was or younger, die in the arena, all alone. There is no one else to help him shoulder that grief. He has the worst district, where no one ever wins, so he sees 2 children he mentors die every year, and the mother of the girl who saved his life in the arena is still around.
But wait! It gets worse! After Peeta and Katniss show fighting spirit and a desire to come back home alive, he has to choose which tribute he will try to help. He puts his money on Katniss, which is understandable, but still heartbreaking.
Then, they somehow both make it out alive. Notwithstanding the roller coaster of emotions Haymitch must have been on when they pulled that last stunt with the berries - getting them both back, then maybe getting neither back- he has no time to grieve for the 23 children who died, but must immediately go to Katniss to try and save her from the same fate he encountered for his own stunt with the force field.
Then he hears about the Third Quarter Quell, which involves Katniss and either him Peeta or having to fight all his friends. And with Katniss begging him to take Peeta's place when they reap him, all the trauma must've come flooding back.
He is also set to lose the two people he cares about - Peeta and Katniss - to the regime, after snatching them from the jaws of death. When he finally has someone else to share the burden of being a mentor, the Capitol immediately takes that from him, forcing him to watch his comrades die one by one trying to protect Katniss and Peeta to keep them alive, all to give Haymitch a chance to pull them out.
We sort of forget about him a little in the third book, but Haymitch loses absolutely everything he has to the regime. Everything. His innocence, his family, his home, and Katniss and Peeta. He has to topple an entire regime and is a member of a far-reaching conspiracy while he can barely function from all the ( additional ) trauma.
I feel like Susanne Collins used him as a mirror to reflect just how gruesome the Games are, and how this spectacle ultimately damages people so badly they become a shell of themselves. Anyone else thinking about celeberty culture?
When looking at him differently, one cannot escape the notion that he resembles a war veteran, too, forced to kill people to come back and then being lauded, but not helped. Especially him saying "there are no victors, only survivors" and the mind numbing substance abuse in order to avoid dealing with the death of two innocent children every year and everything he went through in the arena.
But not only that; he still has the strenght to fight back, organize a coup, be a mentor. Presented with the first real chance he gets to pull someone through the hell of the Games and come back out, he jumps. Even though that means reliving the horrible games again.
Haymitch deserves a lot more praise, and I think Collins presented him really well as an idea of just how evil the Capitol really is. And how wickedly smart Haymitch Albernathy can be, if he chooses to.
I am honestly suprised that he's still alive and in generally okay condition, despite being a raging alcoholic. Him raising geese and looking after Katniss after they come back from District 13 gives me a little peace.
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tending-the-hearth · 6 months
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thinking about tbosas/hg parallels:
how arachne crane and seneca crane both were killed because of their own hubris and the fact that they never viewed the tributes as anything more than animals/playthings
highbottom and haymitch both having reputations of being constantly drunk/drugged and getting laughed at for it but in reality they’re like that in order to deal with the trauma of leading so many innocent children to their deaths
sejanus and peeta showing mercy to a person in their district and that moment changing the course of their lives to the point where they both join a rebellion because they recognize the realities of what the capitol is doing
ALSO sejanus and peeta being pulled into a rebellion because of their desire to help a woman from disctric 12 be free
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