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junie-bugg · 4 years

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Prospects and Propriety - Chapter Two

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

Katniss Everdeen and her younger sister Prim are the adopted daughters of Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, a wealthy man with no biological heirs. By the rules of Panem society, an older sibling must be married before the younger can wed. In a time when women have no means of making their own living, marriage is the only way for Katniss to save her sister from destitution and set her up for a happy marriage of her own. Katniss sets her sights on Mr. Gale Hawthorne, a wealthy man who just moved to Whitley and who seems to have his eye on her. But what of the poor baker’s boy who once took a beating to save her life?

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQbx-OkfN-M

(If you want to listen to this song on Spotify it's called Symphony No.5 in C Sharp Minor: 4. Adagietto (Sehr Iangsam))

Word Count: 3125

Chapter Two

Prim and I have the next day off of lessons. We’ve been homeschooled ever since we came to live with Haymitch, but the weekends are saved purely for whatever we see fit to fill them with. For me, that’s mostly hunting and being out in the woods, unless the weather is bad, and sometimes not even then.

If I decide to stay at home I usually lounge around with a book and see what Prim is up to. It’s mostly knitting, dress-up, or playing with the ugly cat Haymitch let her keep a few years back. Prim named him Buttercup, claiming that his matted, ruddy coat matched the bright yellow of the flowers she so adored. I had wanted to drown the thing in a bucket when we caught him stealing scraps from the kitchen, but Haymitch had laughed, even picked the thing up by the scruff of his neck and shook him around.

“Look at this little guy, sweetheart. He’s a survivor. We can’t kill him!” He had placed the dirty, mewling kitten into Prim’s arms and the thing had hissed at me. I was worried he’d give Prim some kind of disease but he never did. I don’t feel gratitude towards him though. Only suspicion. It could still happen.

When I want to be alone I go to my greenhouse. Really it’s Prim’s and my greenhouse, but ever since she found maggots in the compost pile nearly two years ago, she hasn’t stepped foot in there. The greenhouse is small, maybe a third the size of my bedroom, but it’s peaceful. Especially when it storms and I can hear every hollow beat of the raindrops on its glass roof. It’s situated on the edge of the grounds by the tree line that morphs into the large forested hill behind Victor Greene, Haymitch’s estate. Over the years I’ve planted herbs and flowers and medicinal plants I’ve found on my journeys into the woods. The plants do well here in the rows of dark soil I’ve fortified with compost and fertilizer. The whole place smells of earthy rot and there’s something about how sunlight scatters lazily through the frosted windows that calms me. There’s a nook on the far side of the greenhouse, past all the plants, where I’ve scattered some quilts and pillows on a wide triangular window ledge. It’s a perfect place to read or sleep. Or sing.

This is the only place where I let myself sing. I don’t even do it in the woods, always afraid someone else taking a stroll will hear me or that I’ll scare away game. Ever since Prim and I were placed under Haymitch’s care, really ever since our dad died, I refuse to sing in front of others. Maybe it’s because I’m shy and I don’t like people listening to my voice swelling and breaking on the high notes. Or maybe I’m lying to myself and I don’t sing in front of others because it’s too painful to remember a time when my life was filled with music. Mountain aires and lullabies and love songs, all sung by my father. I guess I don’t like breaking apart when there’s an audience. But when I’m alone I can shatter beneath the notes for a time, before I’m needed back up at the house.

Today, however, instead of knitting or playing hide and seek in the gardens, Prim has informed me she wants to walk to the village. “You need new ribbons for the ball!” She squeaks as I button up her light pink dress from behind. We have servants available who help us dress or bathe or brush our hair but I always like helping Prim myself. She looks like a tiny little princess with her frilly dress and her curls pulled back with a pearl white ribbon. In contrast, I look plain in a forest green frock and my light brown shawl.

“I told you, Prim. I’m not going.” I struggle with the last button. Prim has been going through a growth spurt and soon she’ll be too big for this dress. I feel sad, watching my little sister growing up so fast.

“I heard Mrs. Winthrop and Ms. Trinket talking and they said you had to go,” She’s grinning so hard I can see the slight gap between her two front teeth. “Because Mr. Hawthorne is going to be there.”

Ah, yes. My supposed husband-to-be. So even Prim has heard about Ms. Trinkets’ ridiculous arrangements. A man with that much money has his pick of the litter when it comes to choosing brides. I’m not ugly, but I’m no exquisite beauty either. Not like some of the girls I see around Whitley. I have no fortune of my own, really no status either besides being Haymitch’s ward and that will go up in smoke the second he dies. Most likely Mr. Hawthorne will look right through me and move on. But the news that I’m being forced to attend the public ball worries me. The whole village will be there. Including him. The baker’s boy.

Maybe some new ribbons aren’t such a bad idea.

We turn down an offer for the carriage and instead walk along the main road into Whitley. My boots have barely brushed the cobblestone sidewalks when Prim is dragging me into the seamstresses’ shop. The dressmaker, Cinna Ludgate, and the tailor, I think her name is Portia Peever, both turn to welcome us. Prim tells Mr. Ludgate about my need for new ribbons and in a flash he pulls down the display from the ceiling, winking at me as he walks back to the counter.

There are so many to choose from. Streams of all colors flutter between my outstretched fingertips like butterfly’s wings. I see ribbons of frilly lace, satin, velvet, and even silk. My eyes land on a simple, white cloth ribbon with a delicate embroidered lavender pattern. I hold it up for Prim’s inspection and she declares I have to buy two in case I manage to get one dirty before the ball.

I’ve just handed Mrs. Peever the money for the ribbons when the bell over the door rings. In walks Ms. Delly Cartright, one of Prim’s closest friends, and her older sister, Ms. Marianne Cartright. Their father is the village shoemaker, so they’re well known and well-liked by almost everybody. Delly is Prim’s age which gives them plenty to talk about. Prim grabs a hold of Delly and begins showing her the latest shipment of buttons Mr. Ludgate has displayed.

Marianne is one year younger than me but we’ve never exchanged more than simple pleasantries. I dread small talk but from my personal experience, a trip into town wouldn’t be deemed official without at least one awkward encounter.

“Are you coming to the ball, Ms. Everdeen? You missed the last one,” Marianne asks. She’s absolutely gorgeous, with big, blue doe eyes and a pouty mouth. Her nose is small and her figure slender. She is what they call a “country belle” in Town. I know at least five love songs written about girls like her. I expect in a few years Prim will grow to be one herself.

“The dancing was splendid. I do hope you’re coming next week,” She continues.

I hold up my ribbons in response. “My tutor Ms. Trinket won’t let me miss it.” I force my mouth into a smile.

“Oh,” Marianne’s eyes have settled on my ribbons. They’re probably a tad dull for her taste seeing as there were velvets and silks to choose from, but I like the simple flower design. The white cloth paired with the purple and green thread looks pretty. “Well, as my darling mother always says: simple never goes out of style.” She smiles up at me but the warmth doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “My sister and I are here for my dress fitting. I can’t wait to show everyone what Mr. Ludgate made me for the ball. It’s a custom piece!” She practically squeals. I nod and bid her goodbye, waving Prim over so we can leave. I breathe a sigh of relief as we exit the shop. I hate girl talk.

With our main objective for coming to Whitley carried out, my feet automatically turn towards home, but Prim has other ideas. “Can we look at the cakes, Katniss?” She begs. She’s like a little puppy. I can’t refuse, though I grow more anxious with every step closer to the bakery we get.

I know what this is. A look at the cakes in the window leads to Prim asking to go inside. It’s happened before and I’ve been lucky enough to avoid him. He works alongside his parents and two older brothers anyway. What are the chances that he’ll be manning the counter and not the ovens in the back?

Prim pulls me through the bakery doors and runs to press her face against the display case. I hear a call of “I’ll be right there!” from the back, followed by a grunt and the shuffling of boxes. I join Prim and am just starting to admire the selection of pastries when I hear a quiet gasp and look up.

It's him. The baker’s youngest son. I don't know him by name but I remember him. Of course, I remember him. I can almost feel the icy sheets of rain and the hollow numbness of hunger from that horrible day as I meet his gaze.

Our father had died three months earlier. He had been a poor wheat farmer but the income from the harvest was enough to support a small household. My mother traded plants and home remedies to supplement what our empty pockets couldn’t buy. One winter, my father had been kicked in the head by his horse. My mother did everything she could but even as young as I was, I knew he had died before he hit the ground. After that my mother stopped eating. She just sat in bed and stared at the walls while her children turned to skin and bone. I did everything to try and rouse her but it was no use. With our father dead so too was her will to live.

At eleven I became the sole provider of the family. I ventured into town alone to sell that damn horse, some old jewelry, and even dresses of my mother’s from her merchant days, but the money ran out quickly and there was more to buy than food. Our hearth sat cold, unused, and wanting of wood, and we resorted to rubbing ourselves raw to keep warm. We stopped attending school in the village, afraid that a teacher would see how hollow we were becoming and would whisk us away to the orphanage. I had seen orphans in the schoolyard, their faces empty and their shoulders slumped in defeat. I would never let that happen to Prim.

We had eaten nothing but dried mint leaves in water for three days before I decided to try selling some of Prim’s old baby clothes in town. The clothes were threadbare and faded so nobody had wanted them. My arms were shaking so violently from cold and malnourishment that I ended up dropping them in a puddle. I decided to leave them there, afraid that if I bent over I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

I found myself stumbling around behind a row of brick buildings. The rain had started and I was soaked to the bone. The smell of baking bread carried over the frigid air and I realized I was behind the bakery. The back door was open and I stood, trancelike, basking in the warm glow of the ovens before a thought floated through my foggy head. Maybe they had food scraps in their trash. A crust of bread or rotting vegetables, something only my family was desperate enough to eat. I lifted the tops off of the bins and my hopes died when I saw that their insides were heartbreakingly bare.

Suddenly, I heard a woman screeching. It was the baker’s wife. She spat remarks about how she was sick of people going through her trash bins and if I didn’t leave she would call law enforcement. As I dropped the lids and backed away I saw a boy peeking out from behind his mother’s skirts. I recognized him from school but we had never talked.

With my final hope gone I slumped against a scrubby little apple tree in their yard. My knees buckled and I slipped down into the mud. I would rather die than go home empty-handed to Prim’s gaunt face and my mother’s sickly, unblinking eyes.

I heard a commotion from the bakery and then the ring of metal on flesh.

“Feed it to the pigs you worthless creature! No one decent will buy burnt bread!” The witch screeched. There was the boy again, come out the back door clutching two blackened loaves. A bright red mark shone on his cheek and my heart twisted when I realized his mother must have hit him. He looked between me and the pigpen, and then glanced back towards the door. His mother must have gone up to front to serve a customer because then I heard him sloshing his way through puddles to get to me.

“Take them!” He urged, pressing the loaves into my skeletal hands. “Take them! Go!” As quickly as he came he was gone, back into the kitchens. I watched him disappear. As he closed the door only then did I realize what he had done for me.

Two loaves of bread! And they weren’t even that burned, really only the crusts had been damaged. I quickly pressed them to the skin under my shirt and hurried home. The searing heat from the loaves roused something within me. I couldn’t die. Not when I had Prim to take care of.

I dropped the loaves on the table and stopped my sister from savagely tearing a chunk off for herself. I sat her down, forced our mother to join us, and then began scraping off the blackened bits. That night we feasted on two slices of bread each, afraid so much food might make us sick. The loaves were hearty, filled with nuts and bits of cranberry. I had never tasted anything so good in my entire life.

As I predicted, it was a teacher that found out about our situation. Upon our absence at school, she had come looking for us and found Prim and I living in squalor with a mother that was too sick to care. I thought that was it, that we were to be sent to the orphanage now and our mother taken away to an institution. But a man by the name of Haymitch Abernathy, wealthy and lacking a family of his own, intervened. He had heard of our misfortunes from hushed gossip around the village and had petitioned to adopt us. Our mother was eventually sent to an institution by the sea and we’ve lived with Haymitch, fed and clothed and taken care of, ever since.

The baker’s boy saved our lives that day. Surely I would have given up and died under that apple tree if it wasn’t for the kindness he showed me. I owe him everything. And because of that, I will never be able to pay him back.

I take him in now. He's taller than he was before. Much taller. His chubby child’s build has been replaced with an imposing stature that takes up almost the entire doorway. I guess a lifetime of hefting bakery pans and kneading dough has left him broad-shouldered and muscular.

“Katniss,” he says. I can tell he’s surprised to see me. His voice is deep and I note that his blonde hair curls with sweat. There’s a streak of flour on his cheek and an apron tied around his waist.

“It’s Ms. Everdeen,” I correct him. It’s out before I can stop myself and as soon as I say it I want to bite my own tongue off. How pretentious I must sound. It's only after Prim has begun ordering a sugar-dusted fruit tart from the case that I realize with a start that the baker's boy knows my name.

His face is flushed and pink when he turns his eyes to me.

“I'll take four of those cookies,” I get out. “The orange lilies.” My voice sounds weaker than normal. I hate this. I feel fragile under this boy’s gaze. And that's when I realize: he must be waiting for his thank you. For the bread that he burned and took a beating for. But I can't do it, either because Prim is with me and it would confuse her and probably embarrass the boy, or because it's been five years and the time for ‘thank you’ is over. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he doesn't remember. He probably only knows my name because it was a source of gossip around town when Haymitch adopted Prim and I. He must remember me from then.

He gives me a timid smile, deftly wraps the cookies in parchment paper, ties them securely with a piece of fringed twine, and hands the package to me. I suddenly feel the need to fill the silence so I blurt: “They’re beautiful. The cookies.”

He manages to turn a shade pinker. “Thank you, I do most of the frosting around here. I made those this morning.” As I hand him the money for the treats, I assume that's it. That was the end of our conversation. But my tongue is moving again.

“They look just like the lilies in the woods. I see them on my morning walks.”

“Yes, exactly,” He grins and reveals a charming set of dimples. “I’ve seen them when I go to the woods to paint.”

I don't know what else to say and Prim has started tugging on my hand. She’s probably anxious to get home so we can enjoy our treats with tea, so I give him one last look and utter one last thank you before heading back out into the crowded square.

“Do you know him?” Prim asks as we begin walking towards home.

“No,” I say, a little relieved to be leaving. I can't catch my breath and my heart is racing like it does when something frightens me. “I don't even know his name.”

“Well, I've never seen you be that talkative with a stranger.” She beams. “Wait until I tell Mrs. Winthrop!”

Is that what he is to me? A stranger? I shake the thought from my head.

He knew my name. The very least I can do is learn his.

#thg #The Hunger Games #thg fanfic #everlark #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #haymitch abernathy #gale hawthorne #everlark fluff #jane austen au #pride and predujice #regency #regency au #everlark fanfiction #everlark fanfic #finnick odair

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millieswickedbooks · 5 years

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chapter two: the reaping

Girl on Fire (Teen Wolf x Hunger Games) [Stilinski]

previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter >>

pairing: Stiles Stilinski Black!OC

word count: 5,622

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of pet death, mentions of death, brief mention of pregnancy and brief mention of war

➳

"Aurora?"

"Yes, Alise?"

"Are you afraid?"

I sighed, Alise would ask something like this. I looked at her from the reflection in the mirror. She was standing in front of me, as I was finishing up doing her hair for the Reaping. She was wearing a light blue denim skirt overall and a beige colored short-sleeve shirt underneath. Her dark skin was complemented by the pastels of her outfit and her dark brown, basically, black hair was up in a neat, high bun—courtesy of yours truly.

I turned to the side and looked at Stiles and Scott, both of which were sitting at the dining table, across from each other. They looked at each other and turned, giving me helpless looks. I internally rolled my eyes at the idiots and turned to look at the girls; Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Kira Yukimura, and Malia Tate. They were spread out in my kitchen, Lydia was leaning up against the counter, Allison was sitting in front of her on the kitchen table, Malia sitting on the counter and Kira was to her left, leaning on the counter too, petting Beau. They all gave me apologetic looks and I internally groaned, damning them all.

After we—Stiles, Scott and I—left the forest, we had met up with the girls, all of which were at the Argent household and we walked to my house, because I always get Alise ready for the Reaping. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were most likely at the Hale Household. Sometime around the beginning of the year, Derek had taken those three under his wing. I literally had no idea why by they all just bonded, it was adorable if I'm being completely honest.

Danny and the Twins, Ethan and Aiden, were probably at Danny's, we'd meet up with them afterward.

From here we will go down to the Seam for the public not-execution-but-basically-an-execution.

I took a deep breath and after pondering what I should say to her, I respond with, "just a little bit, babe. But that's what everyone feels on this day so it's no big deal."

"Yeah, don't stress. We'll be fine," Lydia reassured, suddenly appearing beside us, "we always are."

Lydia had reminded of Scott in the forest because that's literally exactly what he had said to me, and she put a comforting hand on Alise's shoulder and Alise looked like she had more to say but I really wasn't in the mood for this conversation. I didn't know what to tell her, it was breaking my heart, she looked so scared and I was so helpless in this situation. I can't do anything to protect her from the truth that is our horrible reality.

"Okay, you're all set, Alise, let's go," I asserted, preventing this conversation from going on any longer by interrupting it. I looked at Lydia and smiled at her, silently thanking her for trying to help me out in this situation. Lydia winked at me and God, I love her so much, she's the freaking best.

"But-"

"Alise, we gotta go, or we're gonna be late. And I really don't wanna find out what happens if we are. I'm not trying to get arrested or something worse. Come on," I explained to Alise, looking at her expectantly. She huffed but nodded and I sighed, turning around, facing the group who was already up. We all gave each other knowing looks and we began to make our way out of the door, Alise and I were last. And as soon as Stiles stepped out of the house, me following, thinking that Alise was right behind me, I heard her call out.

"Aurora, I'm scared."

And that sentence alone brought down my walls entirely. I turned to her and saw her standing in the middle of the room, with Beau at her feet, her long, fluffy tail wrapping around Alise's ankle. Her big brown eyes were sad and her eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, a worried look adorning her face. She reminds me so much of Bubba.

"Oh, Alise," I cooed, running back towards her, crouching down and hugging her. For a fourteen-year-old girl, she really was tiny.

"What if I get picked, Aurora? What if you get picked? I don't want you to die!" Alise rambled, sounding exactly like me when I ramble.

"Dang, babe, have some more faith in me," I joked, hoping to help lighten the mood.

"Aurora, you know what I mean," she said seriously. I sighed and looked at her, remembering my terrible dream and how real it felt.

"Alise, listen to me, okay?" I started, looking her right in her big doe eyes and she stared right back, waiting for me to continue. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, you hear me? Nothing."

"You promise?" Alise asked in a quiet voice.

"Cross my entire heart," I reassured her, smiling up at her. She quickly wrapped her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. I was kind of taken back by the all-of-a-sudden hug and I nearly fell over on my ass but I quickly balanced myself out and hugged Alise back just as tight. I kissed her right temple and we pulled away.

"You ready?" I asked her and she nodded, grabbed my hand and we walked out of the house, seeing the group there, waiting.

I scanned the group and soon enough my eyes landed on Stiles and once again I was reminded why I had such a big crush on that boy. His beautiful amber eyes were looking right at me and he had this look, one I couldn't place. It made my heart swell though. He had this little smile on his face and I just wanted to kiss him right then and there. I, begrudgingly, looked away, I didn't want him or anyone else for that matter seeing me basically checking him out and my eyes landed on Malia and she was smirking at me. I cursed myself as I quickly remembered Malia is incredibly observant and nothing really gets past her. Malia knew I had on crush on Stiles and that was one of the main reasons why she didn't date him when he asked her out a while back. She has been wanted us to get together for the longest time and no matter how many times I told her and the other girls that it just wasn't going to happen, they refused to listen. I blushed as she winked at me and I looked back at Stiles and I saw him still staring at me. I blushed harder and proceeded to walk down my porch steps and towards the group, Alise in tow, and as I did that I saw Stiles wink at me. I nearly choked on my spit at the sight. Why the fuck does he have to be so fucking attractive, what the actual fuck?

'Lord, don't do this to me, you know just how hot he is,' I thought to myself. Once I reached the group Stiles draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me close to him.

We then began to walk to the Square, not knowing that that day, in just a few moments, our lives would change for good.

➳

Once we got to the Square, we almost immediately got separated. Boys one side and girls the other. Alison, Malia, Lydia, Kira, Alise and I went to our rows; we were separated by age. Alise went with all the fourteen-year-old girls, Lydia, Kira, Malia, Erica and I went in the row with the sixteen-year-olds and Allison and Cora, Derek's little sister, went with the seventeen-year-olds. I stood next to Malia at the end of our lil' clique's row.

After every child was grouped together, we waited for the Mayor to do his usual speech. I look around and behind the boy's group, off to the left, I see Mr. Stilinski and Ms. McCall. The sight would've made me smile. If I wasn't in this place I definitely would've too. They were standing next to each other and—they were holding hands! Yes! Scott, Stiles, and I have made it one of our number one goals to get those two together. I kind of wanted Lydia's mom to get with my Bubba but I knew it was still just a little bit too soon for him, so I knew I had to be patient.

And that reminds me, where's Bubba? I turn and quickly spot Bubba. He kind of easy to find, he's six-foot-four-inches and his dark skin made it even easier to find him. He was wearing a gray shirt with a brown vest, standing off to the side, next to Amara and Derek. And I saw that Laura Hale, Talia Hale, and William Hale, Derek's older sister, mother, and father, were there, too—which was shocking. They usually don't come to these.

'It honestly breaks my heart to watch these,' I remember Talia told me. I can't blame her. If I could, I would run away and never come ever again.

I saw that Bubba was staring right at me, his sad eyes boring into mine. I looked at him and threw him a small smile. I could just barely make it out but I know he signed, 'to the moon?' to me. He does it every time. And just as I signed, 'and back' the Mayor began to speak.

"Welcome, citizens of Panem," he began, his voice nearly thunderous in the Square as the crowd and its unnecessarily substantial amount of Peacekeepers was silent, now more than before. He continued, "welcome to District Twelve's reaping of the seventy-third annual Hunger Games. As many of you know, disaster struck what used to be North America..." and it was around here when I would zoom out because I seriously don't give a fuck. A civil war from years ago resulted in us sending our children to die every year, still to this day? For control? I'm not paying attention to this, it's straight bullshit.

I tune back in when I can tell he's about to introduce the Capitol's representative.

"In the past seventy-three Hunger Games, we have had only a few victors representing District Twelve. A living victor representing District Twelve is here today. His name, as many as you know, is Haymitch Abernathy and the tributes will meet him shortly after being Reaped, as he will be their mentor. So let's get this started, shall we? I know you all are dying to know," he announced, chuckling as if this was a joke. "Please welcome Effie Trinket of the Capitol!"

And with that a lady, Effie Trinket I guess, strutted up to the front of the stage after her introduction. And she looked pretty ridiculous but that's the Capitol for you. She had a huge smile on her face and was tall, with perfect posture and very pale. Like 'this-is-my-first-time-stepping-outside-in-fifty-eight-thousand-years' type of pale. And she had some weird makeup on too but that's whatever. What she was wearing though, was another story. She has a full plum-colored suit on. A plum-colored skirt that went down, just barely reaching her knees. It was weird, it was ruffled but not at the same time. And she had a plum-colored, long-sleeve, peplum button-up blazer with exaggeratedly huge shoulder pads that oddly reminded me of a really big mushroom. And to top it off, she had a rather uncomfortably large flower choker and a fucking massive plum-colored flower on her big, white hair and some black heels.

"Happy Hunger Games, District Twelve, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" Ms. Trinket proclaimed with her typical Capitol accent. That line sent a shiver down my spine as it reminded of the demonic Peacekeeper from my dream. Effie continued, "As you all already know, the time has come. I have the absolute honor of choosing one courageous, young man and woman to participate in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. As the Mayor mentioned before, you all must be waiting so let's get right to it, huh? Ladies first." She finished with the same large smile on her face. I rolled my eyes and felt my heart pounding in my chest, feeling on the brink of a panic attack. As she reached a manicured hand into the giant ballot that was filled halfway with slips of paper, closed with usual black tape, I looked down, not wanting to hear someone being sent to their death—and also hoping it would calm my heart down.

And then, I heard it. The reason why my heart was pounding, the reason why I freaked out earlier today, the reason why I woke up with the heavy feeling in my chest. The reason why I had a nightmare last night.

"Alise Galloway," Ms. Trinket calls out.

And at that moment I felt my heart stop. Like actually. I looked up, at the back of Alise's head and I couldn't see her face but I knew what look she had on her face. One of terror and shock. I look around and I saw my Bubba's face; he was still processing what was just said, just like me. Amara wasn't any better, already beginning to cry. Talia, Derek, Laura, and William looked surprised as well.

I turned and saw the boys staring at me; Stiles' eyes were wide open, Scott looked near to tears and Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Danny Mahealani, Ethan and Aiden were all standing in the same row as them and all had varying looks of shocked, upset and confused faces as they turned to look at me as well. I turned to my right and look at the girls and they are harboring the same looks like the rest of my family and friends are.

I hear Ms. Trinket begin to speak into the microphone again.

"Alise? Where are you? Oh! There you are. Come on, don't be shy. Come on stage," Ms. Trinket cooed at Alise and at that moment everything slowed down, even time.

I remembered playing with little five-year-old Alise out in the rain, us splashing through the mud as our dog, Spark, chased us. I remembered playing with little six-month-old Alise around the house. I remembered bathing little ten-year-old Alise, her splashing me with water, resulting in a water-fight that got us in trouble with Bubba and he gave us a stern talking. I remembered burying our dog, holding Alise as she sobbed, kissing her forehead. I remembered getting her ready for school every morning. I remembered Amara surprising eight-year-old Alise with a little kitten, a couple of months after Spark died, which she named Beau, despite everyone in town telling her it was a 'boy's name'. I remembered me being completely and utterly obsessed with one-year-old Alise, even at a young age. I remembered Bubba and Mama telling Amara and I that Mama was pregnant. I remembered Amara and I going trading at the Seam, me holding little three-year-old Alise. I remembered Bubba, Amara, Alise and I holding each other after Mama's funeral. I remembered Bubba wrapping my broken arm in a splint after Erica had broken it falling off a tree and I tried to catch her, Alise holding my hand the entire time. I remembered all the times I would put my tiny hand on Mama's tummy, feeling her kick at the spot where my hand would lay. I remembered all the nights I stayed up late with Alise, talking about school and boys and whatever our minds would think of. I remembered calming twelve-year-old Alise down for her first Reaping. I remembered her and Amara holding me after every single nightmare I had had about Nino or Mama. I remembered Bubba showing me little one-day-old Alise into my arms, I looked down at her tiny face, her eyes closed and I whispered a tiny 'hi', and a small smile appeared on her lil' baby face as she heard the words, as she heard my voice. I remembered that as I grew I silently swore to myself that I would protect her from all harm. And this was what all those years prepared me for. To face my biggest fear; having Alise be reaped.

'Why didn't you save me, Aurora? Why didn't you do something, Aurora?' Alise had said in my nightmare. I tried to do something but I failed. Now, I can't afford to fail. If I do, then I'm losing Alise and I'm going to be letting her down as a big sister. I'm going to be letting my whole family down as a big sister. And I'm not letting Alise down. Or Amara. Or Bubba.

Or Mama.

I made up my mind. I wasn't letting this happen. Absolutely not.

"No. No. NO!" I began chanting as I ran out of my row and ran towards Alise but four Peacekeepers stopped me, gathering around me, preventing me from getting to Alise. "No! NO! ALISE!" Alise had already moved from her spot in the crowd and was standing at the center, in the aisle between the boys and the girls. She was in the process of being led on stage by four other Peacekeepers when I called out to her. She turned around at the sound of my voice and at that moment I got a good look at her face. Her big doe eyes were scared and red due to the fact that she was crying, big, fat tears rolling down her dark brown cheeks.

"Aurora?" She asked, her voice so tiny I just barely heard it over my struggles against these damn Peacekeepers.

"Alise, no! Let me go, let me go! I-I," I screamed, not knowing what the next words I was going to say were going to be but at the same time knowing exactly what I was doing. I cried out as loud as I possibly could, "I volunteer!"

After hearing what I just said, the peacekeepers let go of me, instantly backing away from me, as if I had burned them.

"What?" Ms. Trinket's voice asked, her voice echoing through the silent town.

"I volunteer as tribute," I yelled, loud and clear, making sure everyone and their mother heard me.

"Oh? A volunteer? Well, it looks like we have a volunteer, everyone! That's just great!" Ms. Trinket announced, looking right at me. "Come on up!"

I pushed past the Peacekeepers and ran to Alise, instantly wrapping my arms around my little sister. I then bent down in front of her, keeping eye contact with her.

"Aurora, what are you doing?!" Alise screamed at me, not caring that every eye is currently on us.

"Keeping my promise, babe. Now go, Alise. Go to Bubba and Amara-" Alise cut me off.

"No!" She cried out, feeling her cries stab through my heart. I hated it when she cried.

"Alise, go find-" I tried again but she wasn't having it.

"No! No!" She screamed, grabbing onto my arms with the intent of never letting go.

"I'm so sorry-" I said but then the Peacekeepers decided that was enough, pulling us apart. Seconds later, I saw Stiles, appearing out of nowhere, grab Alise. She was refusing to move so he had to lift her up completely off the ground, putting her on his shoulder. While he did that, I saw he had tears in his eyes as he stared at me. Our eyes locked for a second and then suddenly he was off.

"No! NO! AURORA! NO!" Alise screamed as she was carried away, continuing to scream as Scott quickly followed them, not before casting me a look that broke my heart.

I was then led to the stairs of the stage by four Peacekeepers. I slowly made my way up as I digested what just happened in these last few minutes. I'm a tribute now. I'm going into the Hunger Games. I'm possibly going to die.

"District Twelve's very first volunteer, ever. Come on, dear, come on up," Ms. Trinket acknowledged me and as I reached the last step, she gently but firmly grasped my hand, pulling me fully on stage and guiding me towards the microphone at center stage.

"Hello, hello! And what is your name?" Ms. Trinket asked her colored lips in an even bigger smile than before.

"My... uh, my name is Aurora Galloway," I answered, still not knowing whether I should feel happy that I saved Alise or sad because I might definitely never see my family or friends ever again. No more Lydia, no more Allison, or Erica, or Amara, or Issac. No more Scott, or Malia, or Kira. No more Stiles. No more Bubba, or Alise. That's it, it's over for me.

"I suppose that that beautiful little girl I called was your sister, huh?" I numbly nodded, glancing at Ms. Trinket and then looking around. I saw Lydia, Allison, Kira, and Malia holding each other as Lydia sobbed loudly. I turned and saw Derek holding Amara and Bubba holding Alise, who was sobbing on his chest, I could tell by the fact that her shoulders were shaking up and down.

Bubba was also crying, which tore at my heartstrings even more. The sight of my Daddy crying will always hurt. He deserves more than what this life offered him. I'd bring him the moon if he asked me to.

"Yes, that was," I answered as I guess my nod wasn't enough of an answer for Ms. Trinket as she leaned the microphone towards my mouth.

"Well, let's give a hand to our volunteer, Ms. Aurora Galloway!" Ms. Trinket told the crowd, as she began to clap lightly herself.

Not a single person besides her clapped. All I could hear was sniffs and sobs coming from multiple people. My eyes scanned the crowd once again and, at first, I didn't know what I was searching for until I found it. I was subconsciously searching for Scott and Stiles. Scott was crying, his brown puppy-dog eyes red and he had tears running down his face. Stiles was crying too, but he looked different, he looked more in pain. He wouldn't take his whiskey-colored eyes off me and in any other circumstances, I would have been blushing like a little school girl like I was earlier. But right now, it felt like my heart couldn't take any more of this. More of looking at my friends crying for me. More of my family looking like... like they were already mourning me.

And suddenly something happened. As if it was planned I saw all the townspeople, instead of clapping as Ms. Trinket told them to, they all, one after the other, put up their three straight middle fingers, kissing the fingers and raising it up high above their heads. I was shocked at the use of this old gesture. I never knew this district knew me like that, knew me enough to say they love me. I was reminded of a conversation I had with Ms. McCall; she had told me that everyone knew about The Galloways.

'Everyone loved your mother,' she told me once. 'She was a great healer, a good conversationalist too. She was just a great... friend, not just to me and... Claudia, but to everyone. Everyone was dying to see her be with your father too. He is, was, and always will be a good man. When they got married, nearly everyone came down to the wedding. Everyone loved you, Amara, and Alise too, since you girls act so much like her. After her death, it was like a disconnect. Everyone mourns in a different way. Maybe that's why the townspeople don't really talk to you all as much as they did before. Must see too much of her in you.'

'Do you really think I act just like Mama did?' I asked her. My father told me that I reminded him so much of her but I honestly don't see it. Mama was such a kind person, I felt like I wasn't as good as her, or that I'll ever be.

'Yes. You all do.' Ms. McCall began, looking off into the distance as she spoke to me and at that moment, I felt my heart break for Ms. Melissa McCall. She had gone through so much I just wanted to give her a big hug. She lost both of her best friends and her husband. It made me hate Death for stalking her so much in her life. She deserves so much more. 'Amara took your mother's maturity and her sympathetic side and is understanding just like her. Alise is thoughtful and bold, always saying what she felt was needed, not caring who heard, just like Rose. And you, Aurora, you got a little bit of everything from your mother. You might not see it but you are selfless, charming, cunning, witty, and smart. You are a beautiful young girl, Aurora, and you'll grow up to be a wonderful woman. Just like Amara is becoming, and just like your mother.'

So that's why we always got good deals while trading. And that's why the townspeople are saluting me now. It makes sense now. The townspeople were thanking me. The townspeople admired me.

The townspeople were saying goodbye to someone they love.

"And now, for the boys," Ms. Trinket continued and just like that, I was brought back down to reality. Ms. Trinket walked over to the other massive ballot that was meant for the boys and she reached in, pulling out another slip of paper. As she did that I wondered, 'Who's the poor soul who I might kill or might kill me?' And then it really hit me. I'm going to have to kill people. Children. I'm going to have to kill children. I'm going to have to take the life of someone's child. I just turned sixteen and in just a couple weeks, I'm going to become a killer. I can't kill, how will live my life, if I even survive this shit, with blood on my hands? How will I be able to do this without killing someone?

Ms. Trinket tore open the slip and read the name, leaning towards the microphone.

"Liam Dunbar," Ms. Trinket called out and I couldn't help it but I look for the boy. I quickly spotted the poor boy as the boys surrounding him moved away from him, keeping their distance from the boy as if he had the plague or something. Probably hoping the Peacekeepers wouldn't make a mistake and grab the wrong kid. The kid, Liam, looked around, shocked at his name being called but he reluctantly went with the Peacekeepers. And Lord was it heartbreaking to see him come up. He looked so scared. And as I watched him come up the stairs I'd realized seen him before. His family owns a bakery in town and he is also in Alise's grade, I've seen him going into some of her classes. The boy must be fourteen too. And for some reason, I felt the need to hug and comfort him, tell him everything would be alright.

I shook the weird feeling off and realized he was staring right back at me. I looked down, not wanting to see him staring at me any longer. I felt Ms. Trinket walked away from me so I guess she was guiding him towards center stage, where I was like she did to me. I glanced up when I saw Mr. Trinket's bold colorful outfit in the corner of my eye and saw they were standing right next to me, her hand on Liam's shoulder.

"Here we are, our tributes from District Twelve," Ms. Trinket rehashed and looked at the crowd again. My eyes found my father once again and I saw that this time, Mr. Stilinski and Ms. McCall were at his side, Mr. Stilinski had his hand on Bubba's shoulder and Ms. McCall was holding his hand. They both looked like they were crying too. And chastised myself for looking at them again, I have to stop looking, I'm on the brink of having a breakdown right in front of the whole District and that'll make me seem weak. And I definitely can't go into these games looking weak.

Ms. Trinket continued, "Now, come on you two, shake hands."

I turned to Liam and really looked at him, like really looked at him. And I felt this feeling of familiarity, it was weird. I felt like... I knew him from somewhere else, not just from the bakery or from Alise's classes, it was on the tip of my tongue and nearly driving me nuts because why the hell can't I remember this boy? But I scrapped the thought for now and reached my hand out, at the same time he did. We shook hands awkwardly but at the same time firmly. Ms. Trinket practically beamed at the sight.

"Once again, happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor..." Ms. Trinket finished and turned around to us, gently grabbing both Liam and me by our shoulders and leading us towards the large dark door. I've seen this door so many times before, from past Reapings obviously, but I never really thought I'd ever see myself going through it. The door was guarded by two Peacekeepers and once we walked through the doors, the doors were promptly shut behind us.

"Come along now, quickly. You have a limited amount of time," Ms. Trinket rushed, her heels clicking on the empty hallway she led us down. I didn't even bother to ask what she meant by that and just quietly followed her. We were led into a room and the Peacekeeper opened the door.

"Aurora, this is your stop," Ms. Trinket informed me and I glanced at her and Liam and walked in the small room. I turned to look and they had already been closing the door behind me.

And like that, I was left to my own devices. There was a chair in this room and I knew better than to just sit in it but it's all kind of just hitting me and my legs felt like jelly and god ohmygod I'm going to die. I shook my head, chastising myself again for thinking like that.

'No, Aurora, stop thinking like that! Do you want to see your family again? You want to live! You must win!' I thought to myself as I took a seat.

'But I can't kill people, I can't have blood on my hands,' I pondered, wondering how in the fuck I would survive these games, how would I go about this all while avoiding murdering someone. I struggle enough just by hunting birds and squirrels, and I know that's for survival, but in the end, it's still a life and I still feel bad. Maybe it'll help if I view it as hunting? This is basically the same thing as hunting. I have to survive. It's necessary death. But... I can't; that's someone's child right there. But at the same time, I'm someone's child too.

'Ugh, this is so fucking terrible,' I thought to myself as I racked my brain for a way out and every solution I came up with just came with another flaw or a problem and I felt my blood boil with anger. I hate these fucking Games. But I have to survive, I have to come back, to Scott, Isaac and Ms. McCall, to Lydia and her mom and the Tates. I have to come back and see Kira. I have to come back to Allison and the Argents; I'll miss her like crazy. I have to come back to Boyd and Erica and the twins. And I have to come back to Danny. I have to come back to the Hales and I have to come back to Mr. Stilinski and... Stiles. Stiles. I have to come back for him, to him. I'll miss him and Scott so much. And when I do, hopefully, I will tell him how I feel. No more waiting around. No more secrets.

And most importantly, I have to come back for Bubba and Alise. And Amara. We are all we have. I can't leave them, I can't let myself get taken away as that Peacekeeper did to us with Mama. I have to come back to them.

And in that room, I promised myself that I would kill only if I absolutely had to. Because I might think about others and their well-being and why I shouldn't kill them but that doesn't mean they're doing that to me.

And as I stared off into space, looking at the wall in front of me in the small, quiet room, I realized something. I realized that I wasn't really freaking out as much as I felt like I should anymore. And I wondered why am I not shaking at the fact that I might die in a few weeks? And it hit me. I have a shot at this, it's slim but a shot's a shot. And I remembered why.

'Thank God Mama taught me archery and Bubba taught me knife-throwing. Without those, I would be a lost cause in these Games,' I thought, slightly chucking because I used to complain about why I should learn to them constantly when I was younger and when I was around thirteen I realized I could use my skills to hunt and now, look at how handy they'll come in for these stupid Games.

And in that very moment the door opened, the loud noise startles me and I looked up, seeing Alise, Amara, Bubba, and the Hales. And that was what officially caused me to break down.

➳

and there’s chapter two !!! as always, feedback is always appreciated !! ♡

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fic #teen wolf crossover #teen wolf fic #teen wolf rewrite #stiles fic #hunger games #hunger games fic #teen wolf #black women #woc #stiles #girl on fire #black original character #stiles stilinski x black!oc #oc: aurora galloway

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theantisocialcritic · 4 years

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Archive Project - December 1, 2013 - Hunger Games and Catching Fire Reviews

The Hunger Games, 2012 Directed by Gary Ross 142 Minutes Official Trailer http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SMGRhAEn6K0 The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, 2013 Directed by Francis Lawrence 146 Minutes Official Trailer http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keT5CRhhy84 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The HarryPotter movies stand as probably the most successful series of novel adaptionsof all time. As such, in the post-HarryPotter world every Hollywood company now wants to try and get the rights tobook adaptions that could potentially make a lot of money. Of all theattempts I have seen in the past few years none have been quite as noble as TheHunger Games adaptions (unless my memory is lapsing really hard right now). Havingnow seen Catching Fire I am excited to see where the series goes. That beingsaid, I have not, and do not plan to, read the novels anytime soon. I’m judgingthese as movies separate from their source material. Lets getstarted… ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- THE HUNGER GAMES ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The storyof The Hunger Games, goes something like this, in a dystopian future where theworld has been devastated by war, the remaining people are rounded up intotwelve districts where they are forced to perform slave labor to maintain TheCapital, a powerful urban center that prides itself on it’s own exquisitelifestyle. To keep the districts in check a yearly tournament is held known asThe Hunger Games in which twenty-four children are forced into an arena to afight to the death with only one survivor. Two children are chosen randomlyfrom each district from a jar filled with tickets from bread lines prevalentthroughout the district. The more food children take from the government, themore likely they are to end up in the Games. The themes presented in the storyshow a critique of modern society; the division between the rich and poor, themedia and the objectification of women. I can honestly say that my favoriteelement of the original Hunger Games was the main character of Katniss herself.Not only is she a brilliant role model for young girls reading the novels andwatching the movies (as apposed to Bella), but also she’s a well-written anddynamic character. She’s smart and strong but also scared and overwhelmed byher circumstances. She provides for her family in the place of her parents andrisks her life to protect the ones she loves. I also like how her character isnever “dependent on the guy”. In factmost of the movie is spent with her working together with or even defendingother characters as opposed to merely relying on the male lead to save her allthe time. Unfortunately, Katniss’ depth andstrength as a character aren’t reflected in her supporting cast with only a fewexceptions. While characters like Pita and Haymitch get plenty of screen-time,her family and most of her opponents in the games don’t receive more than a minuteof screen-time. I remember thinking during all of the scenes depicting theother fighters that what tiny bits of personality we are seeing could have beenmuch better payoff if they had been established and given screen-time butinstead all we are shown are one-note characters that die immediately. This isprobably reflective of bad script writing, as it a bit of a weak point for thefilm. Despite its rich source material,much of the story itself feels reluctant to explain the world around it, leavingaudience members in the dark. It does attempt to remedy this through expositionbut is accomplished by bluntly explaining directly to the audience concepts inthe movie; most notably in the “Tracker Jacker” scene in which they have toexplain why it’s a bad idea to get stung by killer bees. The bad screen writing is alsoevident in the pacing. The Hunger Games feels really slow at times and it tendsto drag its heels a lot during the second act. A lot of what happens isn’t verymemorable either. I totally forgot the majority of what happened in this filmsince the last time I saw it. And now, the film’s greatest andmost immediately notable issue, THE CINEMATOGRAPHY. It feels like the directorof photography for this movie was Jason Bourne on a caffeine trip. In actionscenes the use of shaky-cam is obnoxious. Maybe the point was the obscure theviolence to lower the movie’s rating so it could be shown to kids, but that isa horrible reason to promote bad filmmaking. I’d also like to point out thatKatniss never directly murders anyone in the film with her primary weapon untilan hour and a half into the movie. I find this to be a major issue. The sounddesign is… surprisingly good. It gets the job done. I don’t have much else tosay about it. Despite myranting, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that The Hunger Games is a bad film. Itisn’t. It has its strengths and it’s weaknesses but I could recommend it toanybody as something decent to watch. Anybody who has read the books wouldprobably love this movie and it does a good job to set up the opening act toits trilogy. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CATCHING FIRE ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Set a yearafter the first movie, Catching Fire depicts the aftermath of the events of themovie. Without spoiling the first one, the events of the first movie have begunto spark revolution in the eyes of the districts. To suppress the districts andreinforce their power, The Capital sets a plan to replace the normal pool ofcandidates and choose exclusively from survivors of previous Hunger Games. If a personwere to sit down and create a list of all of the problems with the originalmovie that needed to be fixed for the sequel, and then went on to do them,Catching Fire is the movie you would end up with. The result is a significantimprovement from the first film. In a lot ofways, Catching Fire is a repeat of the first film. The same basic premise iscopied over. Katniss is trying to live her life in bad circumstances when sheis sucked into The Hunger Games and her life becomes entangled into thedelicate political workings of The Capital. Same premise, but havingestablished the characters in the first movie, this one takes the liberty ofusing the first two acts for world building and further character development. Unlikethe first, the audience is actually shown the other eleven districts and TheCapital. We are given a taste of theirworld and each group of people’s way of life. All of the elements from theoriginal film that worked well are brought back and strengthened. Katniss has all of her personalityfrom the first movie but is changed and damaged from having to participate inthe Hunger Games and having had her life completely dominated by The Capitalsmedia coverage. Katniss’ supporting cast is morefleshed out, The President of the Capital is given a greater role and we beginto see more of why he supports the Hunger Games. The other opponents are givenfleshed out personalities that are established in the second act of the movieand are given significant screen time (downside being most of them die offscreen anyway). The story has less blunt expositionand shows the audience a lot more. Plus the pacing is much better. I didn’tfeel bored watching Catching Fire unlike the original. And of course, the cinematographyin this one is significantly improved. No-more shaky camera! In Catching Fire,all of the action scenes are shown by keeping the camera in place and lettingthe content of the scene provide tension and it works really well. All the positive ranting aside, thestory still has a few issues. There several convenient plot moments in whichthings that happen wouldn’t happen logically in real life, these likely beingsubject to the adaption and not flowing very well in the movie. The movie also ends on a severecliffhanger that teases Mocking-jay Part 1 (November 2014) which I am nowexcited to see. While I’ve heard a lot of people complain about thecliffhanger, it honestly didn’t bother me all that much. It might be that I’mjust not as invested in this series as some people but the movie itself ended ona note that felt satisfying, if even a bit teasing but I can overlook that. I’d go as far as to say thatCatching Fire is a good movie. Not a great one, not even mediocre. It is good,it fixes the problems with its predecessor and for that I find it very enjoyable. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SUMMARY ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Overall, as The Hunger Games,Four-Part Trilogy, continues I find myself getting more drawn into the universeit offers. While a bit preachy at times, I find that the story it offers andthe well-written character of Katniss make it stand out from a lot of bookadaption movies. If nothing else, in the Post-Harry Potter world it is nice tosee another series finally start to reach the level of critical success it hasattained that actually deserves it. I’m brave enough to admit that alot of major adaptions that have come out lately just haven’t worked that well.Twilight suffers from sub-par source material, Percy Jackson movies feel derivativeand underwhelming and Enders Game was surrounded by mediocrity and controversysurrounding its writer. I recommend The Hunger Games andCatching Fire! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Hunger Games is available on DVD, Blu-Ray and digital download. The Hunger Games: Catching Fire is now in theaters. Thank you for reading! Live long and prospers! 1Nicole Marie1 ShareLikeCommentShare

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sweettteeth · 6 years

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Tell us more about your ocs pretty please !

!!! OH sure ! i’ll put lil summaries under the cut but lmk if there’s someone specific you wanna ask abt

hoo boy let’s see um

The Utopian || this is Yuma, my little clockwork cyborg child ! they were built to keep a failed utopia running, and they do ! even tho it’s been empty for years, they still keep the clockwork that powers the city up to task and take care of the various fae and spirits that pass through as well, and that’s been their job for 127 years now

Haymitch Hill || this is the Tomi family, a family of 3 dads and their one tiny daughter. Joey’s a technician, Ben’s a goldsmith, and Chris is a burlesque dancer; Sunny loves the beach and is an extremely talented pickpocket for a 6 year old, which exasperates her dads to no end

Brunch || this is Geil Sullivan and Allan Baker. Geil is an extremely grumpy florist with some real bad anxiety about the scar on his face and an affinity for cute things that he refuses to admit to. Allan is a v v v clumsy but enthusiastic baker who works in a booth across from Geil (something like this) and has a burning crush on him (they’re married now !)

redwolf || this is still fairly new but this is Fera, Aus, and Damien. Fera’s essentially a warbeast originally assigned to Aus as a security blanket when they were both little kids. Now they’re grown up and Aus isn’t as anxious anymore, but he is a king so Fera is his main guard. Damien was a kitchen boy when Aus was little, but he’s now Aus’s husband. Aus is a little too happy-go-lucky, Damien is…. intense/logical for the most part but a big softie, and Fera is a lot like a tired mom w two overpowered toddlers to keep up with

Ana || Ana is my cursed treasure hunter who uhhhhh fucked up big time and stole from a god’s hoard, sacrificing a friend to do it, and now has to live w this curse that’s just slowly turning her into ice. Lumina is her girlfriend, a healer that accidentally stumbled upon her in an alleyway and now just refuses to give up the notion that she can heal anything, even a god’s curse

Temperance || the oldest ocs i have, which is a goddess called Temperance and her daughter Sadie. Sadie acts as a priest and dancer for Temp’s shrine, which is extremely fortunate bc Temp is super temperamental and is more than willing to use what little energy she actually has to scare the shit outta her less gracious believers

#ask #ocs #thank you !! i love talking abt them i just rarely do #i should draw them more often ; v ;#especially temp i never feel like ive completely nailed her down #just...... energy...... and time #anyway ! thanks again !#Anonymous #edit: i definitely thought this was sent to honeyjarr but this is fine too lmao #i never talk abt them on here either

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foreheadface · 7 years

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P, Q, V?

oh god… okay… I hope I do your blog justice sdfghjk

P: a song that I’d recommend you based on your blog

Sleep Alone by Two Door Cinema Club (from my Hayffie playlist, sorry but I saw that THG is one of your main fandoms. so if yo don’t ship Hayffie just think of Haymitch :D)also, you seem to like DW!!!! The song that I keep on my phone and have kept on my phone that reminds me of DW is my no 1 ship that i’d probably lowkey die for is River/Doctor. DrSong? is there even a shipname for them??? i don’t wanna say River Song/ and then like a specific Doctor because I ship Her and 11, 10, and 12 and maybe even 13 i sdfghj

so uh… the song that I always use for them is uh The Calender by Panic! At the Disco sorry sorry

Q: a song to drive to

uhhhhh okay, I’ll be perfectly honest, I don’t drive bc of my slight blindness but I always like listening to bands like Neon Trees, Panic! at the Disco (yeah never really got rid of my love for them), and musicals like Rent or any play by Starkid (if you’ve heard of them and if you haven’t WATCH THEIR PLAYS OMG in the car!!~

V: a non-english song

LOL The only Non-English songs I’ve ever really heard/listened to daily are like anime OP and endings lol BUT I’ve really gotten into listening to Hyuna, recently~ I love her attitude~

#sorry sorry #still wouldn't call myself a k-pop fan #sorry if these answers are shit #trash #forgive meeee #btdubs your moodboards for river and amy made me want to cry oh god

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omniishambles · 1 year

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& Mycroft Holmes @governmentofficial

“Mycroft Holmes....and to what do I owe this delightful intrusion?”

Haymitch was slouched in one of the many viewing area chairs, a drink in hand. He’d only just started for the day, but was worse the wear from the day before. And the day before that. The only cure to his aching head and dry mouth was to drink more, until he couldn’t feel either issue. Not ‘til the next morning when he’d start all over again.

He didn’t know Mycroft well, but knew enough about him to hope this was going to be a quick conversation.

Mycroft was a weird guy. Scheming, intelligent, and usually carrying his damn bird in tow. Though Haymitch did have to admit it was funny, the looks of horror and concern on the faces of those watching as the elegant chairs were torn to pieces by curious talons.

Haymitch and the bird seemed to be the only ones who thought they were ugly.

Whatever. It would take his mind off the arena. One of his tributes was already dead at the Cornucopia, and the other wouldn’t be far behind by his estimation. Best to start blotting it out right now.

#what's in the box #& mycroft holmes #haymitch ; main v

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madeofpurestarlight · 7 years

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If This Was A Movie, V

// While Effie Trinket is Hollywood’s darling and all her dreams seem to be finally coming true, Haymitch Abernathy is drinking himself into an early grave and shuts the world out completely. However, Plutarch Heavensbee decides it’s time for his comeback. The two main stars can’t stand each other and tension builds up soon, but as they dive in deep into this project, somewhere between shooting love scenes, fighting on-set, fighting off-set, opening up hesitantly and helping their younger colleagues deal with everything this world brings, they grow closer and closer, until one day they realize they’re not pretending anymore. | Hayffie Actors AU //

“A HELPING HAND”

NOW

The camera flashes were blinding. The rush was overwhelming. The reflectors were too bright and the place was too crowded. It was all extremes and there was no time to take a break from them when she stopped before the entrance to the red carpet area and took a deep breath as if she was the nineteen-year-old girl attending her first premiere again.

She was in the movie for exactly three minutes and forty-seven seconds back then and everybody looked at it like it was the greatest achievement Effie could get in her life, but it wasn’t enough for her. It wasn’t what she knew she could reach, and it definitely wasn’t all she would get. She was too determined than to settle with supporting roles and living her life out on Broadway. She wanted the world to lie at her feet. She wanted men to lust after her and she wanted women to strive to be her. She wanted the cameras, she wanted the leading roles, she wanted this shiny red Dior gown and those skyscraper Dior heels and her name on the list of nominees.

She had it, all of it, and she still didn’t feel any pride or happiness or even satisfaction, because the only person she wanted to share this with wasn’t here.

“Are you even coming to the party later?” Johanna asked and sleeked her electric blue long-sleeved velvet dress that was tight in all the right places and made the usually street-style oriented young woman look like a goddess with its long veil and diamond-decorated choker made of the same material. She measured Effie with her wide, cynical chocolate eyes and sighed, finally cracking some mercy upon her. “Have you been like this the entire time?”

“It’s just harder for me now,” Effie old her quietly. She was very well-aware of what she looked like. She looked defeated, and there was no point in hiding it in front of Johanna. The disappointment was too big to hide. “I just hoped…”

“Hope,” Johanna spat and took Effie by her arm, not exactly gently, and walked her a few steps away to make space for the other celebrities to enter the carpet. “Trinket, you’re one hell of a drama queen. He’s not here – so what?” She frowned, put her hands on her hips and jerked her head towards Katniss and Peeta who were waiting a few yards away, laughing at something on Peeta’s phone, and towards Finnick, Annie and Mags who were in a lively conversation with Plutarch. “We are here,” she hissed, “so light the fuck up. Don’t spoil it for us – besides, you deserve to enjoy this. You did your job well even without him, so you can carry on with that now.”

Effie stared at Johanna in genuine and rightful shock. “Johanna-“

“If he came, I’d gladly stick something up his coward ass, anyway, so it’s maybe better that he’s not here.” Johanna took Effie by her wrist and squeezed it tightly with a mischievous smirk. “C’mon. Let’s show him what he’s missing.”

“Johanna,” Effie cracked a genuine laughter, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, just stop keeping me,” the younger woman tugged at her wrist, “they’re waiting for us.”

ii.

BEFORE

April, Venice

Effie let the hot water drips trail down her soaked hair, naked spine, pearly-white arms, long lean legs and pool by her pink-painted toenails. She saw her reflection in the shower’s glass door, her mascara was running and so was her nose, because despite her best attempts, she still didn’t get rid of the rigor that had taken over her when she got out of the freezing, filthy water.

God, she was so angry. It was just genuine, hot anger, directed at no one else but Haymitch Abernathy who, if she had the opportunity, she’d gladly repeatedly hit with something into his head. There was no one she had ever felt so much whole-hearted disgust for.

He had tried. After she had ran away from the trailer, following her fit of rage, he went after her. He had tracked her down to the costume trailer where she had chosen to hide, and tried to talk to her. However, in her eyes, he was the originator of everything that could possibly go wrong, and it had only ended up in a heated fight that went on for whole long minutes and had apparently amused the hell out of everyone in earshot. He told her she was an arrogant bitch, she told him that he was just a drunken good-for-nothing and they have mutually sent each other to go screw themselves. He was the one who walked out on her this time, and she didn’t even attempt to stop him.

Why should she? He missed up big time. She had spent thirty minutes under the shower and she still felt dirty and chilled to the bone. He had ruined the entire shooting day – one day that was going to cost everyone time and money, not that there was already exactly an excess of either. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if she knew that he was sober. But no – he had to come there with that arrogant expression on his face and a cup of some Virginia-style Irish coffee and blasted about having it all together. Sure thing.

The filming was a disaster so far.

She violently turned off the water, already sick of the tangerine-scented shower gel she had been covering her whole body in for the last half an hour, reached for her puffy white towel with her monogram that she had brought from home, wrapped herself in it and walked out of the bathroom.

While she curtained the window and started drying herself, she noticed, in the corner of her eye her phone that was lying on the chest of drawers by the window.

Of course, Effie thought of Seneca daily. Not all the time, but often enough to make her feel regretful. By the pool, where she liked it the most and where he could have been sitting next to her or where she could watch him while he was swimming; before she fell asleep, because she knew that if he could be here, he’d be falling asleep next to her, under the same blanket, breathing the same air, their bare skins brushing against each other; when she was walking around the set and thinking of how everything could have been so very different, had he still been here.

She liked Venice but she couldn’t wait for the filming to finally move to Florence, where she’d get much more shooting time. She needed to distract herself and there was no better way to do than to fully immerse herself into her job. Now, that she had nothing much to do, she was more likely to get consumed by her ever-present melancholia – and to give into her tendency to be obsessively watching what was going on back home.

The surprising answer was simple – nothing.

Olivia Royston, her publicist and long-time friend, managed to handle the past few rocky weeks gracefully and with a clear mind, something Effie was incapable of lately, too heartbroken and too worried about her career. Now, everything seemed to be settling down and though she knew that real acceptance still wasn’t in her ability at the moment, the worst was finally behind her. Getting to go away for some time was helpful and the one thing she kept in her mind was that the public’s short-term memory is very bad. They might dig out some dirt from time to time or bring it up again when enough months have passed and they were lacking their banner headlines, but nobody really cared.

Except Seneca’s fiancée, of course.

Fiona Winchester has reached out to Effie many times – after Seneca’s death, after his funeral, and after she had learned that they have already casted Haymitch into Seneca’s role and that Effie was the one to help them organize this. She has called Effie many things, starting with whore, and definitely not stopping at a hyena who was just using Seneca for his fame and was still trying to profit from his death. Effie’s publicist, her lawyers and her management were supposed to handle this, but Effie knew what it felt like to be in Fiona’s shoes – she had been with Aiden for five years, after all.

So, truth be told, she was more worried about what Fiona’s rightful anger could do to her career than the public’s fleeting opinions.

True to the credo that no news are also good news, she decided to put all her worries to rest for now and had strictly forbidden herself to try to contact Olivia. After all, if things got bad, she’d know.

She put on a baby blue sundress and a brownish cardigan and started blow-drying her hair, but stopped half-way through, put the dryer back into the holder, sprayed on some perfume, put on some mascara and blush and left her room in determination.

That determination hadn’t left her even after she realized that she had no idea where Haymitch’s room was. Running around the complex looking for him wasn’t what she was willing to do just to get to yell at him, but then she imagined slapping him and it had not only slightly improved her mood, but also reinforced her resolve. Besides, there weren’t that many places where he could be. It was either the cafeteria, the lobby, the pool, the internet café or the pool bar. Or maybe he had stayed on the set, but under no circumstances was she going back there today. It was too humiliating.

There was no trace of him in the café or the lobby, so she headed out. When she walked into the pool area, Peeta and Finnick were already there, sitting on a bench. Finnick was sitting with his back straight as a ruler, with his head up in the air and a dead serious expression on his face while Peeta was drawing something into his sketchbook and had a small mischievous smile on his cracked lips. His freckled face lit up when he looked up and saw her.

“Effie,” he said and Finnick looked over as well, “do you wanna join?”

“Thank you, Peeta, but I am actually looking for someone,“ she said, but out of courtesy walked closer nevertheless. She looked over to Peeta’s lap where he had his pencil case and a paper with the drawing. “Now that is a piece of art.”

“What?” Finnick reached for the paper and whisked it from Peeta’s hands who was trying to take it away from him with a chuckle. “I said a portrait! That’s a caricature, boy. I’m offended, you know? I’m leaving now.”

“See you,” Peeta was still laughing when Finnick got up and dramatically ran his fingers through his reddish locks.

“I’m now going to find a better company.” He turned to Effie and did something like a curtsy. “Not that there’s better company than you, but here my personal portraitist is incapable of doing his job, so I have to act aggrieved now. See you at lunch.”

He left them there alone, disappearing into the cafeteria where he headed straight to the dessert section where he winked at a ginger girl in the hotel’s white uniform.

“Sissy,” Peeta laughed and raised the sketchbook. “I might sometimes come draw here. It’s quiet. It seems like we’re the only guests in this whole place.”

“I am actually fine with that,” Effie admitted and watched him open the sketchbook and a glimpse of a few drawing and doodles have caught her attention. “Would you mind if I had a look?”

Peeta’s ears and cheeks turned crimson. “I don’t know, I mean- I don’t mind, but… it’s nothing much, really.”

“I’m sure you are very talented,” she said when he gave the notebook to her.

The very first drawing was a sketch of a sculpture by a rosebush. It wasn’t colored, but the shading was brilliant, and it had an atmosphere and came across pretty realistic. In the right corner beneath it was Peeta’s humble signature. The next few pages were similar scenes, and then there was an unfinished picture of the St. Mark’s Basilica and the St. Mark’s Square. Peeta had a significant sense of detail – the people in the streets, the ornamentation of the church, the atmosphere. He bothered to draw each face and each ice cream con and every old cobble.

“What are you saying, they are great,” Effie argued genuinely and handed it back. “I am being serious, this must have taken you so much time and effort.”

“Thanks, but not really,” he replied, still blushing badly, “it kind of just finishes itself. It’s a relax.” He paused and then he seemed like he wanted to add something, but Effie’s attention was distracted by a sight that deeply concerned her. Peeta’s eyes followed her gaze through one of the many huge French windows that were the partition between the pool’s sitting area and the inside bar. “Is that-“

“Yes,” she gritted through her teeth.

“He doesn’t look well.”

“That’s nothing against what’s going to happen to him once I get him.” Effie was up within milliseconds and already on her way to the bar with Peeta in tow.

The bar was empty, with no one but Haymitch sitting at one of the stools, not exactly stably, with three empty whiskey glasses surrounding the fourth, full one, and judging by his state, she could tell that it wasn’t only three whiskeys that were running through his veins now. One look at the abashed bartender, a short dark-haired woman with tattoos covering her neck and arms, and she knew.

“It’s okay,” she told the bartender quietly and approached Haymitch from behind, who was saying something that was hardly eligible and to be honest, Effie felt like she didn’t necessarily need to know. She hit his back and didn’t even bother to make it gentle. “Seriously?”

He turned around violently, spilling the whiskey in the process. His face gave away the fact that he was hardly keeping it together, and when he saw Effie and Peeta, his expression shifted towards annoyed. “Hey, Trinkeeeet… came for a drink?” He turned to the bartender. “Two more!”

“Ignore him,” Effie said sharply and gripped Haymitch by his biceps while looking over her shoulder. “Peeta, have you got any money here? He’ll give it back to you later…”

“I wrote it on his room,” the bartender informed them in a strong Italian accent, shaking her head. “It’s eleven in the morning. Is he okay?”

“He won’t be soon,” Effie promised her. “Thank you.”

Together, her and Peeta threw Haymitch’s arms over their shoulders and went on their journey to the elevators, hoping no one was going to see this mess.

“Trinket,” Haymitch put his face way too close to her own, his lips nearly touching her ear which prompted a shiver down her spine, his breath smelling like liquor and held-back vomit, “let’s have a drink… Plut- Plutarch wants us to be friends… are we friends Trinket?”

“I’m going to kill you,” she answered his question simply.

“Haymitch, are you alright?” Peeta asked when the older man let out an ugly drunken hiccup. “Are you getting sick?”

“Yeah, this whole time,” Haymitch’s legs entangled and he temporarily lost his balance, nearly taking both Effie and Peeta with him, hadn’t it been for Peeta’s strong arms holding him up. “I’m sick of everything… I’m sick of this all… and of you, Trinket…“

“Yes, and you are an absolute darling, aren’t you,” she fired back absent-mindedly, looking over the lobby. No one, but the receptionist was there – she gave them a curious look, but didn’t say anything. The elevator took insanely long to come – way too long, because Haymitch obviously was getting pretty sick.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna-“

“No!” both of them let out, and the elevator came just in time – they got in, smashed the button with the third floor, the door closed and Haymitch’s stomach did some akin to a backflip. The next second, its content was all over Effie’s yellow dress.

“YOU IDIOT-“

“Effie-“ Peeta’s fingers touched her arm as he reached out to her over Haymitch’s shoulders in a calming gesture.

“I can’t believe this,” she lashed out, pushing Haymitch away just when the door opened. To their great relief, this hall was empty as well. Peeta was definitely right about the place being very calm. “I’m going to murder him. Which room is it?”

“I don’t know,” Peeta turned to Haymitch. “Which room?”

“I don’t know…” he hiccupped again, gripping their shoulders tightly. “I think… I don’t know… I’ve gotta-“

“It should be on the card,” Effie said and reached into the pocket of Haymitch’s jeans.

“You didn’t even let me buy you a drink and you’re sticking your hand in my pants?”

Effie was about to spat something in return, but she just got the card and pulled it out. “Twenty-four.”

They stumbled with their drunken co-star a few doors back and clumsily put the card into the code reader. Together, all three got into the room and Effie let Peeta lead Haymitch directly into the en-suited bathroom form which she could hear the typical sounds following a heavy drinking and shut the door behind her.

She took a defeated look at her dress. She smelled like liquor, vomit and the expensive clothes were ruined for good – she certainly wasn’t keeping them after this. His room was messy, she had expected that, but it was also dirty and she was disgusted by it, almost as much as by what he had just done to her dress. There was a pool of whiskey and shards of a broken bottle by his bed, which was probably what had lead him into the bar. After silently cursing him, she entered the bathroom to see Peeta helping Haymitch out of his dirty clothes covered in whiskey and vomit stains.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Peeta threw Haymitch’s shirt into the sink and turned on the water in the shower. “You can go put yourself together, I can manage it here.”

Effie pouted at the prospect. “Are you sure? I shouldn’t leave you here like this…”

“If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know,” Peeta promised. “I’ll stay with him for a while. He shouldn’t be alone. I’ll order him some coffee and something light to eat. It’s going to be alright.”

“Fine,” she agreed finally, fully aware that it didn’t take that much to persuade her and she wasn’t even feeling too bad about it. She walked over to Peeta to caress his arm gratefully and bowed down to Haymitch who was mumbling something she couldn’t properly make out. Just as she was about to tell him that he was going to regret this tomorrow day, he threw up again. “Okay,” she stood up straight and adjusted her clothes, quite uselessly, considering their state. “Thank you so much, Peeta. I’ll come check on you two once I… get rid of this,” she waved at the horribly smelling stains on her dress and left the bathroom.

Once she closed the door behind her, she faced Plutarch.

“Effie-“ he eyed her up and down questioningly, taking in the stains on her dress and the angry flush on her cheeks. “What happened? Isn’t that Haymitch’s room?”

“Yes, he…” she hesitated for a second, “he got sick. Peeta is there with him.”

She could see the suspicion of the worst dancing across his features, so she had chosen to elaborate. “He ate something bad. He’s going to be okay, just minor food poisoning, I’d say.”

“Oh God…” Plutarch sighed heavily and rubbed his temple. “Is he going to be okay? I need him to be fine, we’ve got two more scenes to do here…”

“He’ll be perfectly fine by tomorrow,” Effie reassured him promptly, “trust me, it’s nothing serious. He just needs to get it all out and rest. Peeta said he’ll tell me how he’s doing.”

“Where did you two even disappear?” He asked angrily. “I was just looking for you. I thought you would both come back once you put yourselves together, and then Cressida comes and says that you have both decided to just-“

“I’m so sorry, Plutarch,” she interrupted him sternly, “but I can’t work with him. It’s just beyond me right now-“

“Effie, you are an actress,” he hissed. “For the love of God. You don’t have to like each other, though I’d prefer it if you did. But just do your job. Get over your egos. I’m sorry about what happened this morning, but listen to this – I don’t care what is going on between you two, I don’t care if you show up drunk or sober, I don’t care if your mothers died, I don’t care if-“ he inhaled sharply when he realized he was raising his voice a little too much. “Whatever happens, you two are going to be on the set tomorrow morning, exactly at eight, ready to do what you have promised me to do. Are we clear?”

Effie felt the blush appearing on her chest and neck, but decided to keep decorum. “Very well,” she said quietly, “I will make sure of that.”

“Okay. I’ll come take a look at him later.” He measured Effie with one more doubtful look. “I just hope it wasn’t the lobsters.” With that, he turned around to disappear in the elevator.

iii.

Haymitch hadn’t appeared during dinner, which wasn’t surprising, and when Effie asked Peeta, he said that he was still asleep. Peeta took Haymitch’s card with the words that he didn’t need it right now anyway and went to check on him every two hours. Effie went with him after dinner, in a clean salmon dress, with a glass of water, a bowl of chicken soup she had ordered to her room, and a bottle of Advil.

He was lying on his stomach, in a stained white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, and these clothes were drained with sweat. His facial muscles were jerking and he was shaking in his sleep. When she carefully placed the back of her hand on his forehead, she grew worried. “I think he has a fever. Maybe we should call someone.”

“Wait,” Peeta said and ran out, leaving the door cracked open. From the hall, Effie could hear a knocking and quiet voices.

While she waited, she watched the man in the bed. He was repelling and the mere look at him made her so angry. This was exactly what she was so afraid would happen. This was what they could have expected to happen. She’d gladly slap him all over his face and she just wanted him to get better so she could accomplish that.

“We’re back,” Peeta announced when he rushed back into the room with Katniss at his feet. She had her hair in a loose side braid and her grumpy face and a phone in her hand were clear indicators that taking care of Haymitch Abernathy wasn’t what she had planned to do this evening. “Katniss’ mum is a nurse. She knows what to do.”

“Actually, I don’t. I’m not a nurse,” the girl replied moodily, setting her grey eyes on the sleeping Haymitch. “What happened?”

Effie sighed. “He got drunk. We don’t know how much he had, but I don’t think it’s normal to sleep for so long, and he looks like he has a fever, so…”

With a resigned grunt, Katniss walked over to him, pressed her hand against his forehead like Effie previously did, put her palm on his back to feel his fitful breathing and looked over to them. “How much does he drink?”

Neither of them knew the answer. “He has problems with this, we all know that,” Peeta said, “he was supposed to get somewhat sober before coming here.”

“But he drank today,” Effie added, rage taking over her once more when she remembered that day.

“It could be withdrawals, but I’m not sure.” Katniss got up and started typing something on her phone. “Maybe he knew he was falling into it so he went to get something to drink and had too much. He should be fine, but I’ll ask mum.”

“I’ll tell Chaff,” Effie decided. “Thank you, Katniss. Maybe we should leave him be for now. We’ll see in the morning.”

Katniss nodded without much concern and put the phone into the pocket of her corduroy brown pants, already on the leave. “Someone should check on him before going to bed.”

"Thanks,” Peeta said, but Katniss was on her way out of the door and didn’t pay any attention to his gratitude. “And sorry for bothering.”

Effie folded her arms over her chest and pouted. “Is everyone from the South like this?”

“I’m not,” Peeta chuckled lightly. “I’ll check on him before I’ll go to sleep and if he’s not better tomorrow morning, we’ll tell Plutarch what happened and will take him to the hospital or something.”

“I’ll come take a look at him, too,” Effie said defeatistly, uncomfortable with the thought of letting the boy look after this absolutely unpredictable man on his own. “Just knock on my door when you’re going.”

The whole filming was, indeed, already a disaster.

iv.

The night was ink dark, soaked with the smell of drying rain on the concrete and filled with wet fog, leaving petite drops of water on the windshield, rearview mirror and the battered bodywork. The wipers were still on, running frantically from one side to the other and his eyes followed them. He couldn’t remember how to turn them off.

He saw the front lights in his peripheral vision, but his reactions were too slow. The rough leather of the steering wheel felt slippery beneath his palms, even though they were sweaty, and the highway in front of him was, he could swear, winding, but, and he was almost sure of that, there weren’t supposed to be any corners or curves.

But there was someone else, someone who was touching his face, his neck, who was whispering something to him, and they somehow didn’t fit into that narrative, but they weren’t changing it, either. This narrative always led to the same ending.

The second car was way too close but his body wasn’t collaborating with his brain’s confused orders. He originally wanted to press the brake but it was too late; so he just pulled the steering wheel, but there was a crash nevertheless.

The last thing he heard was the crunch of tires, someone’s screams and a deafening blast; the last thing he felt was the gravity-defeating force that launched him through the windshield.

His whole body jerked and his eyes shot open. His vision was blurry, but he located a ceramic bowl and a glass of water on his nightstand. The windows were cracked open and there was a clean shirt for him on the chair beside the bed. The room smelled like disinfection and flowers. It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t in Richmond and that he wasn’t in a hospital, either, and that there were no fresh flowers. The smell was vaguely familiar, though.

#if this was a movie #hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #my writing #thg fanfiction

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ignitesthestxrs · 7 years

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kyp motherfucking durron

What I like about them

He’s just a fucking nightmare human being? i don’t even know how to explain, but he slots right into my trash men tropes. some main points tho i think are how he falls in love with jaina...after he seduces her and fucks her over like his ability to shoot himself in the foot is second to fucking none. his devotion to her after that whole situation is also a+

also he’s a good example of what it’s like to survive your redemption arc. he killed 25 million people!! how do you lived with yourself after that, how do you atone for the hole you left in the galaxy? i think appreciate that kyp isn’t a good person, but he wants to Do Good and the tension there is great for me

What I dislike about them

nothing tbh. again, nightmare trash human being with a skewed af moral system but all of that appeals to me :’D pretty much the same as you tbh, when the writers fuck him up because they personally dislike or don’t understand the character (LIKING JACEN? SORRY HE’S DEAD? WHAT?)

Favourite moment

lmao threeway tie between him checking jaina out (nice dress) right after she compares him to her father, ‘anakins dead? wrong brother!!!’ and helping drag jaina back from the dark side

Least favourite moment

Honestly he was written terribly in Destiny’s Way, i’m pretty sure that between him and TK in that book i never actually managed to finish it.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

his relationship with jaina :V

An interesting AU for this character

jaina divorces jag and goes on a galactic road trip with kyp without mentioning this to him

ALTERNATELY what if jaina had stayed his apprentice because i am also shipping trash.

i have zero interest in a ‘what if he hadn’t blown up an entire star system au’ tho

A crossover

a hunger games crossover could be fun! in a..terrible way but. yes. and i just realised why i ship haymitch/katniss and don’t know how to feel about myself.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

guess :’D

Other ships?

literally only kyp/jaina tbh, kyp is a rare character that i do not multi ship at all

BROTP

kyp and han, mostly because han is kyp’s only friend

NOTP

kyp/peace

An assortment of headcanons!

he totally made up that fucking girlfriend he told jaina about i do not care

#star wars #star wars legends #kyp durron #gizkasparadise

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omniishambles · 1 year

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Send 👌 for Haymitch to state if Effie is aesthetically attractive or adorable (or not) @hvbris

multimuse grape vine

"She's aesthetically alarming. All those wigs, the eyelashes, the glitter- it's overwhelming, frankly. Though all that make up can't hide the angry little pout she does whenever I open my mouth, so there's that."

#translation: the angry little pout is cute and I enjoy making it happen lmao #haymitch ; main v

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omniishambles · 1 year

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would it kill you to think positively just once ? Effie @ Haymitch @hvbris // 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳 𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝑬

* * *

“Seeing as thinking negatively is what’s kept me alive? I’ll pass.”

Haymitch waved away the very suggestion with a hand clutching a glass of scotch, as it so often did. And he’d hold onto it for dear life, too. Liquor in the Capitol was much better than anything he could get in District 12, even if it all did the same job of blurring his world in the end. But it went down a hell of a lot smoother.

He tilted his head to look up at Effie, fully expecting to meet a judgemental look. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Clearly you’re unfamiliar with the expression ‘prepare for the worst and hope for the best’. I’ll do the preparing.” He raised his glass again. “You do the hoping. Pretty sure you can handle the optimism for both of us, sweetheart.”

* * *

#sorry effie XD #& effie trinkett #haymitch ; main v #q

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junie-bugg · 4 years

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Prospects and Propriety - Chapter One

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

“We’re very similar, you and I.” He turns the leaf over in his palm one last time and then presses it into my hand. His fingertips are warm where the leaf is brittle.

We are, aren’t we? Me, a girl forced to marry by the rules and expectations of society and him, a boy whose freewill was stolen away before he could even walk. We’re both prisoners. Destined to fates we did not choose ourselves. Now I see what was so funny to him.

The two of us: we are absolutely tragic.

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Author’s Note:

This is a story inspired by my love of Everlark and Jane Austen’s novels. I am in no way an expert on the Regency period and I include fashions/details that are not historically accurate.

The setting is an alternate England-like Panem.

The plot is my own (Gale is not Mr. Darcy people, don’t get it twisted) but does borrow aesthetics and ideas directly from Jane Austen and Suzanne Collins.

The cast of characters is a mix of canon Hunger Games and original characters I’ve created.

I plan on including links to music and ambiance videos I used while writing so feel free to explore those! I typically play nature sounds and music together on my laptop so sorry if you're reading on a phone!

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cc9ofwF-e4

(If you want to listen to this on Spotify it's called 'The Secret Life of Daydreams' from the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack.)

Word Count: 1,727

Chapter One

I run my hands through the tall grasses at my waist. It’s the perfect morning. The crisp air doesn’t quite hold that harsh bite of winter that will soon sweep the countryside in blizzards and ice. Emerald leaves hint at the coming autumn with the slightest tint of yellow along their stems. The sun shines bright through branches and I watch the forest come alive with squirrels and chipmunks that scurry through the thick brush. The dirt path I followed to get here grazes the edge of the woods, but I’ve abandoned it to traipse through the wild-flower dotted hillsides instead.

From this high up, I can see everything. The village of Whitley lies to the west. I can just make out the rooftops of the squat brick buildings off the main square. By this time the merchants will have opened their shops for business. The rest of the countryside is peppered with grand estates and bountiful farmland. Rivers gleam like veins of silver and dirt roads are wreathed in the dust kicked up by horse-drawn carriages. I wish I could stay and sit here all day. I would drink in the sun and drown in the low hum of insects, though Haymitch has warned me of the nasty gossip that follows a lady with a tan and a set of freckles.

A lady. I almost snort. Apparently, that’s what I am. Or what I need to be if anyone is ever going to ask for my hand in marriage. The thought ruins the good mood my morning stroll had put me in. I throw myself down among the tall grasses and begin plucking mindlessly at their stems.

Haymitch Abernathy, the legal guardian of me and my sister, has never been one to force us into doing things we dislike. I’m allowed to ride my horse alone, hunt with a bow and arrow, and take off into the woods whenever I please, like some woodland nymph from one of my father’s old stories. If it wasn’t for Prim and my greenhouse back at home I would probably live out here. Until it got cold of course. I’m allowed more freedom than any other young girl in the county, I’m sure. But not even Haymitch can protect me from matrimony.

My sister is excited for me. I imagine she’s fantasized about her wedding since she knew what a wedding was. To her, marriage is a romantic fairytale. A strong, handsome man of large fortune will sweep her off her feet and give her an estate to run and small, cherub-faced children to care for. To me, marriage sounds like a death sentence. They say if I’m lucky, I’ll marry for love as well as for fortune, but I never want to love someone as much as my mother loved my father. Because when he died, in a way, so did she. The only person I know that I truly love is Prim.

Primrose Everdeen, my little sister, was never the outdoorsy type like me. She’s fair, with golden blonde hair that hangs in ringlets past her slight shoulders, and a face as fresh and as pure as a spring dewdrop. She spends her days drawing, flower arranging, and studying languages with my old tutor Mrs. Winthrop.

“She’ll be a highly accomplished woman by the time I’m done with her. Mark my words, this young girl is special,” Mrs. Winthrop had said to Haymitch mere days after first starting Prim’s lessons. She had been my tutor for years and had never said anything nearly as flattering about me. Sullen Katniss Everdeen must have been a lost cause in her eyes.

I’m four years older than Prim who’s a mere twelve. We share the same parents, though we look almost nothing alike. Where she received the fair skin, blonde curls, and gentle blue eyes of our mother, I received the olive-toned, straight black, and storm grey palette of our father.

I sit up suddenly, aware that I left home hours ago and it must be getting time for my lessons. I dread heading back to that stuffy room where I’m required to sit straight and learn to be “lady-like” under the scrutinizing gaze of Ms. Effie Trinket, my new tutor. Manners are of the utmost importance to her, seeing as she makes her living off of teaching them. She considers being late an unforgivable sin.

With this in mind, I take my time gathering wild-flowers. There are so many at my feet, their delicate white and yellow petals peeking up amongst the grasses. I deftly craft two flower chains. One for me, which I place on the crown of my head, and one for Prim clutched in my hands. I notice some dirt under my nails and smile, wondering what Effie will say when I arrive late and grimy.

She purses her lips and crosses her arms as I enter the room. “Where were you?” She demands in that high pitched voice of hers.

“Out,” I shrug. I hadn’t seen Prim on my way in so I’m still clutching her flower crown. I offer it to Effie instead. “Flowers?” She squints at my offering, probably checking for bugs, before gingerly taking it and placing it down on a side table.

“Katniss, I need you to take today’s lesson seriously.” Her clipped tone sets my teeth on edge.

“I always do-” I start, but Effie cuts me off.

“Don’t lie to me, Katniss. I know you don’t care for etiquette. I know that to you a spoon is just a spoon, even when that spoon is a soup spoon and should only be used for soup!”

Again with the soup spoon thing, it was one time. But she’s right. I find learning manners and etiquette a waste of time. I’ve only been out in society for a short while. I barely attend balls seeing as I’m sixteen and prefer to stay at home anyway. I look up and realize that Effie is still talking at me.

“Are you even listening? Mrs. Winthrop was right, you are hopeless.” She sighs and wipes non-existent dust off of her shimmery lilac skirts. “It is imperative that you start paying attention and make some kind of progress in these lessons. Mr. Gale Hawthorne has recently taken possession of Templeton and is traveling here, as we speak, to take up residence indefinitely. Do you know what this could mean for you?” Suddenly, her annoyance melts away and is replaced by a teary, almost hopeful expression. The way this woman’s emotions swing back and forth between happy and exasperated hurts my head. She comes to clasp my face between her palms. “Mr. Hawthorne earns ten thousand a year, Katniss. Ten thousand!”

I have in fact heard of the Hawthornes. Maybe those lessons have had more of an impact on me than I thought. I was forced to spend months poring over books filled with the names and family trees of wealthy, well-known families that I had either already been acquainted with or might be acquainted with in the future. A healthy knowledge of people, especially rich people, will get you far in life. At least that’s what Effie says.

Gale Hawthorne is the eldest son of the wealthy businessman Ezra Hawthorne. I forget exactly how Mr. Hawthorne first made his fortune but the word mine sticks around in my head. What his mine produced, I’m not sure. Precious gems? Gold? Coal? All I know is the Hawthornes are incredibly wealthy, and Gale being the eldest son inherited when his father died. He is in possession of everything from the family fortune to a legion of servants to the many extravagant houses in Town. Now it seems he’s grown tired with the city and has decided to try his hand at country living. Good, I think. A wealthy man who’s used to the high society of the Capitol won’t last long out here. He’ll be out of my hair before the month’s up. Effie must not realize this since she’s still staring happily into my face.

“And?” I ask.

“Well, he’ll fall in love with you and ask for your hand in marriage!” She beams as if this is obvious. “If you play your cards right of course. For instance, he won’t find you very agreeable if all you do is scowl at him like you do me-” I jerk out of her grasp.

Of course. Marriage. It’s one of the only things Effie has talked about the entire time I’ve been her pupil.

“Yes, Mr. Abernathy warned me that'd you'd be. . .avoidant. But don’t you see? That’s the reason I’m here. To teach you how to win a husband! It’s an art you know.” She sighs, probably seeing the panicked look on my face, and slips back into a tone of tired annoyance. “You’ll have to marry someone, Katniss. Might as well marry knowing you’ll spend the rest of your life in the lap of luxury.”

She’s right, of course. There’s no way for women to make their own living. I can’t go to university to study business or law, I can’t run my own shop, I can’t inherit Haymitch’s estate or fortune. When he dies the money goes to some estranged cousin on his father’s side. I am a woman, therefore, I am destined to either marry or die poor and unprotected. And Prim…

If I don’t marry, then Prim can’t marry. One of the rules of proper Panem society is that a younger sibling cannot marry unless the eldest has, meaning I must be happily settled before my younger sister can even entertain the idea of love. If I don’t get married and Haymitch goes and does something stupid like die, there will be nothing I can do. For either of us. We’d be turned out of the house and left to beg for scraps. And I will not let that happen to Prim. Not again.

I force myself to swallow past the lump in my throat and spend the rest of the afternoon paying careful attention to Effie. She’s trying to teach me to communicate with men via body language, long gazes, and the fluttering of lashes.

This is the only way to save Prim, and with each horrible flutter I produce and each disappointed sigh from Effie, I feel my chances slipping away.

#everlark #thg #thg fanfic #everlark fluff #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #gale hawthorne #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #pride and prejudice #jane austen au #regency #everlarkfic #The Hunger Games

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