#she dies in the arena. there is no victor and no hope. there is nothing but love for a girl who should've survived.

[things-stronger-than-fear]

can we talk about the katniss/lucy gray parallels (or lack thereof) for a sec?

they're superficially the same, because of the things we talk about all the time: they're both female victors from 12. there are things that come with that culture and background -- the mockingjay, the plants, the songs. those similarities aren't so much between them as people, as individuals -- they're born of coming from the same culture. the most significant thing they share is their resilience; their spirit of resistance and rebellion. their defiance.

but really, all those things they share, only serve to demonstrate just how different they are as individuals (because personality is different from upbringing or values).

we parallel their sarcastic bows, but they're so so different. lucy gray is a performer mockingly curtseying and saying "kiss my ass", where katniss is a hunter who doesn't have time for this society bullcrap.

they both sing the hanging tree, but as i've ranted about, their renditions show how different they are: lucy gray, again, a performer with a spirit unbroken, loud and charming and sassing right to the capitol's face, daring them to defy her, daring them to look away. katniss, again, a hunter, quiet but unyielding, sparking rebellion under the capitol's nose.

they both won their games, but in such different ways. lucy gray charmed the snakes (both literal and in the form of one coriolanus snow), while katniss threw down with weaponry.

lucy gray said look at me, care about me. katniss said fight for me, fight with me.

and so what we see is that they are not at all the same person, but that's what's so important. because it's not just one person or one type of person that puts their foot down and rebels. we don't need a specific kind of Chosen One to light the spark -- anyone can.

#seriously. why am i so invested. #I DON'T EVEN GO HERE #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #katniss everdeen #thg meta #anyways i do believe somewhere in the multiverse there's a timeline where lucy gray /does/ spark the rebellion #(in a deeper and more immediate way) #like. look at the way the capitol had to erase her. (and not just because snow was a salty scorned ex.) #there's a universe where she's too popular for the records to really be erased. where she becomes a celebrity and #gains a platform and a network and /access/. where she flexes those snake-charming skills on the capitol. #there's a universe where she sways coryo a little more thoroughly. where she's ripped from him by the capitol #and it radicalizes him. doesn't make him a good person or less of a ruthless player in the game. but one with different goals. #there's a universe where she doesn't have coryo there to cheat for her. in that one she can't hold the snakes off forever. #she dies in the arena. there is no victor and no hope. there is nothing but love for a girl who should've survived. #in this universe the people revolt because the capitol has grown to love her and the districts see nothing to lose. #there's a universe where she survives and gains the respect of all the academy students. children are the future. #this is how the capitol loses control. #there's a universe where lucy gray sticks around in 12 past the music ban. in this universe she'll write quiet songs of rebellion. #she'll run. not out of panem but within it. she will be a singing ghost starting fires throughout a country fractured. #ANYWAYS. I WILL STOP.

[welshaphrodite]

I think the saddest character in the Hunger Games franchise is Mags Flanagan. She is as almost as old as the Games themselves. She won the 11th Hunger Games. Then, for the entirety of her life, for over 60 years, she was forced to relieve that same trauma year after year, trying to train kids, save kids, just like herself. Over time Mags watched the Games get more brutal, more “entertaining”. She watched her community sacrifice two children over and over again. There is nothing Mags can do but bare it. She desensitizes herself. She reaches her 80s. She is old and almost free of the pain; the trauma has formed a callous. But Mags will continue to work until she dies. This is all she has ever known. 

Then, the 75th Quarter Quell is announced and Mags is back on the stage for the first time in 60 years. A reaping outfit. Her name in a glass bowl. The tension, the dread, the silence before the reading of the name -- Annie Cresta. But to Mags, it never mattered the name that was picked. She knew her hand was going up. And for the first time since she was a child, she is back in the Games. 

During her the 11th Hunger Games, Mags was caged in the zoo with the other tributes. This time, she is presented with a gorgeous suite, the best food the Capitol has to offer, and the finest clothes. The 11th Hunger Games were televised on a blurry screen; now, all of Panem is going to watch her every move. Mags knows she isn’t going to win. But, as she spends the last weeks of her life walking in the shoes of every child she couldn’t save, as the trauma of her own Games is as alive and present as it has ever been, she knows that, for the first time in her long life, she was able to truly save at least one person from this fate. 

Hope is a funny thing. Mags picked apart the Capitol’s logic and the heart of the Games long ago. She knows why they allow one victor, and how every tribute goes into the arena hoping its them. She knows this is unrealistic; all of Panem knows that only one will come out alive. But even as she rises into the ticking clock of the arena, that stubborn feeling flutters in her chest. Maybe she will get out of there with the rest of the rebels. But if not --

Mags looks to Johanna. To Katniss and Peeta. To Finnick. Her hope for them is stronger, steadier, than the hope for her own self-preservation. She looks into the cornucopia of weapons, the familiar ring of twenty-four tributes, and allows herself to dream that maybe, maybe, this is it. This will be the last one. 

For the first time in over half a century, Mags won’t be watching the Games from the comfort and safety of a faraway room. This time, she has the chance to help directly. To be able to protect others with more than just a parachute full of supplies. To have the ability to save another life. To save multiple lives. To save all the future children of Panem. 

The gong sounds.

Mags smiles. 

She dives into the water. 

#the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #mags thg #mags flanagan #annie cresta #finnick odair #johanna mason #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #district 4 #suzanne collins why did you do this to us #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #president snow

[teenagecriminalmastermind]

mags flanagan was the victor of the 11th hunger games. she is probably one of the last people we know of canonically in the games who directly, vividly, remembers lucy gray baird.

she remembers the girl from district 12, who dropped a snake down someone's dress, who sang a song the day of her reaping as a fuck you to the capitol. the girl who charmed an entire country and won the games using sheer ingenuity.

she probably remembers reports of the capitol boy who served as her mentor, remembers the blond boy who broke the rules and stayed in that zoo enclosure with her. probably remembers the reports of him doing everything he can to save this girl. coriolanus snow. she remembers that name, tucks it away, connecting it with decency and integrity.

she probably, as a young girl, thought that maybe there was some good left in this world. if a capitol boy would put his neck and life on the line for a lowly girl from district 12, who would defy every social rule for her, then maybe there was some hope.

she probably remembers the rumours that floated around after those games, remembers how they said that blond boy ran away to be with her. remembers how no one heard from or about lucy gray baird ever again, and then next year she goes on to compete and win the games.

and then when the victors are made to be mentors, she looks for that girl, lucy gray baird, wonders if she could ask her questions about her games, about her life now, about coriolanus snow, the blond boy who changed the games themselves for her. but she is nowhere to be found. lucy gray baird is now a legend, passed down in hushed tones amongst the ones who still remember her. the girl who charmed an entire arena of snakes, the girl with the guitar, the girl who said nothing they could take from her was worth keeping.

and then she returns year after year, and a decade or so passes until she hears a familiar name. a name she expected died away in district 12 in obscurity, because there is no way the capitol would let his impunity pass unpunished, would they?

but here he is, president coriolanus snow.

she wonders how he's still here, and how he betrayed her memory, betrayed what lucy gray baird stood for, what he once stood for. but there he stands, impassive, cursorily shaking her hand before she stops herself from asking about the girl with the rainbow skirt.

then comes another victor from district 12, and she turns the games on their head, much like her predecessor. mags watches her, wonders if president coriolanus snow is thinking the same thing she is. when the quarter quell rolls around and finnick tells her about the burgeoning spark of a rebellion and how the girl on fire might be the one who fully set it ablaze, she agrees wholeheartedly to return to that arena.

she thinks about telling him about lucy gray baird and her story, but doesn't think he would believe her if she did. when she sees snow again, knowing certain death lies ahead, she finally asks him the question that's rested on her lips for half a century.

she asks him about the girl in the rainbow skirt.

#my thoughts got away from me #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #tbosas #mags flanagan #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #katniss everdeen #finnick odair #ballad of songbirds and snakes

[moethewriter]

I had this idea for finnick I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing, it’s not very good but I was thinking Finnick comforting the reader (who’s a district 4 victor) after her younger sister who was repeaped for the games doesn’t make it in the games? And it finally causes the reader to break or something?

Don’t worry about it if not, thank you!

It's a great idea! Thank you for requesting anon! Hope you enjoy! - TITLE: Broken Melodies WORD COUNT: 1k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x (Fem Coded) Reader WARNINGS: Angst, brief descriptions of blood and violence TAGS: (LET ME KNOW IF ANYTHING NEEDS TO GO UNDER THERE!) A/N: Had a great time writing this one and loving all the requests everyone has had so far! I'm quite sick, so I do apologise if fics are little bit slower! -

You hadn’t been ready to hear those words from the escort of District Four. You hadn’t been ready to send your younger sister off into the Hunger Games to possibly never come back. The idea that she would be reaped nearly a year after you had never crossed your mind. The fact that you couldn’t volunteer to protect her killed you on the inside. Her face, the way it had dropped, the way she had cried … it was burnt into your memory forever. 

You couldn’t have given up on her, that you knew. You had to fight every step of the way to ensure a win and bring her home. You campaigned to sponsors, did everything Snow asked of you, and you tried to train her as best you could. But she could only do so much, she was fourteen years old. You, as her mentor, tried to comfort her and give her every reassurance possible but nothing was able to prepare her for the true horrors in that arena.

She was a child, she didn’t deserve to be thrown in there and face what you knew she couldn’t win. You had been sixteen, not much older than her at all but … she was your sister … your baby sister and you had failed her. You couldn’t protect her despite everything you sent her way.

Your mother had cried for days once you both left on the train, and you didn’t even have the decency to console her. There had been no time really, they had swept you away in what seemed like minutes. Though in some ways you were grateful, you didn’t want to lie to your mother. You couldn’t lie to her … you knew what your sister was going to face and you didn’t want to break two more hearts that day. 

She was the youngest of the bunch, but she had lasted for a while. She had fought so fucking hard, she had tried to make it back home … but she couldn’t hack it. A boy from District 2 had taken in her in the end, and then later he had died. You had never been a vengeful person but you were grateful he wouldn’t end up being a Victor.

When you saw her go down, all you could do was scream. Finnick dragged you from the room, kicking and screaming and sobbing. He had held you for hours, despite his own tribute still being in the arena. He had wrapped his arms around you, brought you close to him and whispered nothing but love into your ears as you cried. 

You were inconsolable, but you were thankful that he was there for you. 

It had been over a week now, since she died and the games ended. A girl from District 1 had taken the win, and you were still frozen in time. You couldn’t get the image of the axe out of your head, the blood that splattered everywhere. Nothing felt right anymore.  

“Hey.” Finnick whispered, crawling into bed beside you.

You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, a safe comforting gesture from him. Something you had craved so much these days. You needed him, and you needed him to tell you things were going to be okay.

“Hey.” You said, voice hoarse and low. 

“Mags dropped off dinner.” He said, moving to play with your hair. “I know you're probably not hungry, but let’s try to eat something later, okay?” 

His voice was a low rumble, like a small earthquake shattering every thought you’d ever had. The only time you ever smiled now was when you were with Finnick. He was your rock.

“Okay.” You sniffled, feeling like a chastised child. You hadn’t been eating well, far too sick to even try.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” Finnick said, kissing the crown of your head. “It’s not.”

“I didn’t protect her, FInnick.” You mumbled. “I didn’t protect her, I didn’t try hard enough and now she’s gone. She’s gone because I didn’t help the way I was supposed too.” You felt hot tears starting to leak from the corner of your eyes.

“No.” Finnick said, sternly. “You did everything you could. You mentored her the best way you knew how and you loved her every step of the way. She knows how much you tried and how much you did for her. She wouldn’t want you sitting here and blaming yourself for something you couldn’t control. You have always done right by your family, by her and she would hate to see you this way.”

“But she’s gone.” You said, flatly. “She’s gone and she hadn’t even begun to live her life. God this whole fucking system makes me sick.” You wiped your eyes aggressively, trying to control your emotions in some sort of way. 

“She is.” Finnick agreed, trailing his fingertips along the side of your face, making you shiver ever so slightly. “But she’s still all around us, and with us every step of the way. She’s never going to be truly gone. You have your memories of her, and you have everything she’s owned. She’s going to be present for the rest of your life, even if she can’t be here physically.” He told you, humming a soft tune in your ear. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, a small smile gracing your lips.

“There’s nothing you need to thank me for, Y/N. I love you, and I can’t stand seeing you this way. I’m going to be here no matter how long it takes for you to feel like yourself again.” He was stroking your shoulder now. “Even if you look a little different after everything, I’m still going to love you. I’m not leaving your side, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“Can we look through photos?” You questioned. “While we eat? You didn’t know her well, not as well as me. I’d like to tell you about her.”

“I would love that.” Finnick smiled, leaning in to kiss your head one more time.

You weren’t sure what life was supposed to look like without her in it, but you knew come what may, you had Finnick. Finnick who would never leave your side for anything. Finnick, who would hold you on those dark days.

Finnick Odair, who loved you wholly and truly.

Maybe in some way, life would be okay.

#moeswriting #writing #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #hunger games #the hunger games #angst

[alavestineneas]

Together

pairing: Johanna Mason x fem!reader

summary: Johanna hears the baker assure Katniss. District 12 tributes remind her so much of them. She was once seventeen, and she was once blindly in love. It irritates her—why are they allowed to be like this? Why did she have to hide?

warnings: mentions of suicide attempt, typical hunger games violence

''I think I'll retire quite sooner than I intended with that girl,'' Blight announced, flopping down on the sofa with a distinct sound.

Haymitch chuckled at the man's visible misery, passing him a glass from the nearest tray. ''Is she back at it again?''

Blight nodded in defeat. ''I tried to be understanding, you know, with all of that happening to her family, but my nose is bleeding for the second time this week.''

Haymitch mastered a sympathetic face.  "I've met a lot of monsters, but teenage girls are by far the worst beasts.''

Y/N rolled her eyes at them. ''I'll talk to her.''

Blight looked at her as if she had three heads. "There is no point unless you want a black eye instead of that makeup.''

''Well, I am also a teenage girl, which is what you are so afraid of,'' Y/N said as she stood up from the couch and straightened her dress. ''If I am not back after half an hour, call security.''

''Or doctors,'' muttered Blight under his breath.

"Or doctors." Y/N shrugged.

To be fair, Y/N was quite intrigued by Johanna Mason, the most recent victor. Cunning, quick, and violent—this is what the media tried to portray her as. Y/N knew better than to trust their vision—after all, according to them, she herself was the Capitol's darling, bathing in love and fame for the past two years.

Judging from the sound, somebody was moving furniture in the room. Y/N knocked, more out of habit than from need. The doors in the Capitol are never fully locked—another illusion for a fake sense of privacy.

"I said go fuck yourself, or did I completely knock out your brain?'' a girl's voice responded from within.

Y/N chuckled. "Is this how you talk to your elders?"

The pacing around the room stopped.

''Who are you?'' the Mason girl asked, obviously surprised.

"You'll find out when you open this door—not the best way to start a friendly conversation, is it?"

The loud thuds continued as if nothing had happened.

Y/N sighed. Why can't things be easy for once? She pressed the hidden silver button, and the door unlocked.

A girl with black hair looked at her with wide eyes. She was standing on the chair, holding a piece of rope.

''Hanging? Very original, I'll give you that.''

''What do you want?'' the girl grumbled, undoubtedly dissatisfied with the failed attempt.

''I want you to come down and get dressed,'' Y/N answered, glancing at the undone bed and shattered glass everywhere. ''As simple as that.''

''No.'' The girl looked determined, still standing on the chair. ''I am not going to another idiotic party with those fuckers.''

''Really? I hope you believe in ghosts, because you'll be dead tomorrow morning.''

''I don't care. I don't want to live anyway.''

''Has anyone ever told you that you are such an egocentric bitch?'' Y/N asked, leaning against the wall. She surely got Mason's attention with that—the girl looked at her, insulted.

''Excuse me?''

''You should've just died in that arena and given somebody a chance to live. Take my tribute, Elly. Do you know how much she wanted to survive? Why steal her chance if you'll waste yours anyway?''

"My entire family is gone, and you want me to smile for the cameras?"

"You are correct; they would have been overjoyed to learn that you honored them by killing yourself over a damn party."

The girl stared at Y/N, debating whether she should listen, before getting off the chair with a slight thud.

''I'm Johanna.'', she mumbled.

Y/N grinned.  "Nice to meet you, Johanna. Now let's show these bastards who they are messing with.''  

-

Y/N writes to her almost every week. Johanna has learned the schedule by now - she writes on Saturdays, and on Thursdays, a white envelope is sitting on the porch. She complains about life in District 8, the horrendous dresses she got as presents for her birthday, or how her make-up team appeared to lose their taste after changing the designer.

Johanna never answers. She tells herself it is for the best—she can't get attached to anybody. Mason keeps all the letters neatly stocked in the first drawer of the closet. She won't admit it, but she rereads them every evening. Then, it's easy to pretend they are just two ordinary 17-year-olds.

She doesn't allow herself to answer. Not until Y/N mentions that she is back at the Capitol. Johanna knows what it means—while her friend got to keep her family, it cost her a lot. Only then, she takes a pen and sits at the table, scribbling a response.

It looks messy—nothing like the nicely curved letters Y/N has. She rewrote half of a paper five times. Johanna shoves it into the envelope and sends it off before she can change her mind. She can't help but smile when she gets an answer. Y/N doodled a funny figure, suspiciously similar to Johanna's, covered in spikes. Mason gets the message—she will write more often.

-

Johanna mentors for the first time; her tributes are both alive, which has been rare for so long in the Games. The mentors' lounge is not as crowded as it was in the morning; most of the past victors take turns monitoring the arena. The quiet chatter is the only sound besides the screen. They talk about a dinner tomorrow, a new escort, stylists—anything but the Games.

Y/N is also here - the boy from District 8 is still hiding. They both know the game makers won't allow it for too long. Y/N anxiously fidgets with the rings on her hands, staring at the void. Johanna guesses they are never getting used to it—even older mentors are visibly uneasy, almost too drunk to walk a straight line.

A scream draws her attention back to the screen. A massive, tiger-like creature charged at the boy Y/N mentors. He tries to fight it off with the nearest stick, screaming in horror as the animal opens its mouth and takes a bite of his leg, tearing it off.

Johanna's head flies at Y/N; she is already watching, lips pursed into a white line. More screams ring in the now silent room, along with sounds of growls and what Johanna believes to be the sound of tearing flesh. Finally, the screaming stops; the camera changes to Career's pack.

The mentors try to hide their gaze from the Y/N's figure as she stands up from the couch and leaves the room, her steps echoing in the hallway.

The District Two mentor pours himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in one go; most mentors follow him, and the conversation completely vanishes.

Johanna tries to recollect herself, adjusting the hem of her shirt. The boy's blood-stained face still runs through her mind, so she doesn't notice a figure behind her until somebody places a hand on her shoulder.

''Go talk to her. I'll watch.''

It's a blonde woman from District One - Cashmere or Gloss, Johanna was not sure. She wants to argue but quickly changes her mind. The woman obviously means no harm. So, Johanna nods.

She finds Y/N easily - she is in the training room, sparring with animated figures with a spear. Johanna recalls Y/N telling her that the only reason she chose spears was because they resembled the sticks she used to practice with at District 8. Mason thinks she was joking - her friend was hitting every target with ease right now.

Johanna sits down beside the girl on the burnished metal floor. She was never good with words; it was Y/N who always seemed to know what to say.

''I'm sorry.''

''He was very happy to eat ice cream, you know?'' Y/N says, her voice faint.

"It was his wish?"

Y/N nods. ''It makes them feel better, I think. Hell, it makes me feel better about sending them to their deaths—to know I did something good for those kids.'' She looks down at her hands, her lips trembling. ''He was a nice kid and died such a horrible death, Jo, such a terrible, cruel death.''

Y/N's voice breaks.

She leans into Johanna's embrace, and Mason almost instinctively wraps her hands around her friend's shaking shoulders. It was the first time she saw Y/N like this. Without a mask Capitol made her wear, without the walls she built around herself. Just Y/N.

''We are going to be alright,'' Johanna says.

She hopes her words sound convincing. Of course, they're a lie - nothing is ever okay in this messed-up world. They both know this, but Y/N still whispers a small thank you.

Johanna's heart aches, and a familiar warm sensation spreads through her chest. She resists the urge to wipe the tears off her friend's face. They are friends, and Johanna is happy with that. It is still a lot more than she deserves.

-

Today is Y/N's birthday, and the Capitol is throwing a big party for "the favorite." Johanna doesn't ask why she has this title. Of course, they adore her - Y/N won the Games when she was fifteen. She grew up in front of the camera, and, what is more flawed, she grew up with people behind it.

It is easily seen when Y/N's face changes each time she walks on the stage. Her warm eyes transform into big doe eyes, and a picture-perfect smile appears. She is a perfect actress, quick to come up with a witty remark or play into the naïve girl they view her as.

She won the Games that way; Johanna has to remind herself. Y/N got a 3 as a training score, possessing almost none of the fighting skills. She did, however, know what the Capitol wanted: someone charming, attractive, and willing to put on a show. That and the desert arena got her where she is now.

The perfect victor now lays on the floor next to Johanna, her head on Mason's lap. They are both twenty-one now, not that their age ever stopped them from stealing the alcohol. The party is tomorrow, and Snow wants to put on a show. For now, they can live.

''Jo, can I tell you something? But you must promise not to be angry.''

Mason responds with a hum; she enjoys hearing her rash ideas. The braid she is making out of Y/N's hair is coming out not like she intended, and Johanna huffs in annoyance. ''Just spill it, would you?''

Y/N's face becomes serious. ''I think I am in love with you. And to be fair, it scares the shit out of me.''

The world stops for a second. Johanna thinks she did not hear it right, but there is no other way to understand this. She feels her heartbeat in her ears, loud enough to cover any other noise.

''Well. Yell, scream, or say something. Anything.'' Y/N sits up, a half-finished braid falling undone.

''We can't,'' Johanna says nervously, licking her lips.

''So, you feel this way too?''

"No, that is not the point. We can't do this.''

''Why?'' Y/N takes her hand in hers. ''They'll have to allow it. We can even be a secret if you want to. We'll figure it out, I promise.''

''No.'' Johanna shakes her head. ''You know what happens to the people I love, Y/N. One wrong step, and you will be dead. I can't do this, not again.''

Y/N pauses. "I think you are just afraid to be happy."

"No," Johanna whispers, "I'm afraid of losing you."

Y/N blinks, fighting the tears gathering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Johanna was faster.

''I'll go. It's late.'' If she stays any longer, she might lose it.

The door behind her closes with a loud bang. The realization comes suddenly - she lost the only person who loved her. Johanna lets out a few choked sobs, sliding against the nearest wall in a small, empty hall. The worst part is that she loved her too.

-

Johanna is mad—furious even. The Capitol already did everything in its power to break her, yet here she is, going back into the arena. Her reaping wasn't that much of a surprise; she is the only female victor in District 7. Johanna is convinced every name drawn wasn't random—a brother and sister from District One, Finnick and his sweetheart Annie, Y/N.

They meet in the bathroom before the interviews, of all places. Y/N is attempting to remove the mascara from her eyelid, and Johanna is trying hard not to laugh - if only the cameras saw her like this, she would undoubtedly win over all of the sponsors. No other victor radiated as much anger and determination as she does now.

''Stop laughing and come help me,'' Y/N grumbles.

Johanna grins. ''I wasn't laughing.''

''Yeah, whatever.'' Y/N watches as Johanna picks up a napkin and dips its end in the water.

''Close your eyes.''

Y/N does what she is told, the corners of her lips twitching. ''Yes, ma'am.'' She earns a slap on the hand from Johanna. ''Ouch! What was that for?"

"Not everything has to be a sex joke, you know?"

''Well, where is the fun in that?" Y/N opens her eyes. Johanna's face is inches away from hers. ''Jo...''

''Shut up," she mumbles, covering the girl's lips with hers.

Y/N throws her arms around her, pressing Johanna's body as close as humanly possible. The kiss is hard. Griping. Almost painful. It's like they can't get enough of each other. But Johanna wouldn't want it any other way.

Y/N pulls away first, watching Johanna take a few rushed breaths in. ''I thought we couldn't do it,'' she jokes.

Mason rolls her eyes.  "I liked your mouth closed better."

Y/N's face turns serious, her playful expression vanishing. ''Regarding that. Give them hell. For me.''

Johanna nods. ''I promise.''

-

It wasn't supposed to be easy, and Johanna is reminded of that by stupid birds; while she pities Finnick and Katniss, she is also jealous - they still have someone to care for. Mason doesn't know if Y/N is still alive - the last time she saw her was at the Bloodbath. She can't swim.

''They won't touch Prim!''

Johanna hears the baker assure Katniss. District 12 tributes remind her so much of them. She was once seventeen, and she was once blindly in love. It irritates her—why are they allowed to be like this? Why did she have to hide?

''Your fiancé's right. The whole country loves your sister. Forget the districts; there will be riots in the Capitol if they torture or harm her.'' Johanna turns to the cameras and yells. ''Hey, how does that sound, Snow? What if we set your backyard on fire? You know you can't put everybody in here!''

She feels the stares of her alliance on her, but frankly, she does not care anymore. ''What? He can't hurt me. There's no one left that I love.''

Finnick glances at her, eyebrows raised. He knows. Y/N was his friend too.

-

Johanna tries to meet her fate with anger at first. It served her well throughout her life, as she dealt with every adversity with sarcasm and insults. Mason maintains her arrogance, refusing to allow them to hear her screams or begs. Johanna refused to be turned into entertainment, even after losing. She didn't cry when they cut her hair or beat her. She told herself, "The help is near.''

It provoked them more. The torture becomes more violent day by day until Johanna is exhausted. She has endured it for weeks, and help still hasn't come. She just wants to slump in her chains and silently take it.

The breadboy's cells are next to hers; she hears his screams more than she does her own. Johanna wasn't sure how much time had passed until she heard another familiar cry.

It's Y/N. Mason can swear on the remains of her sanity that it was her voice. She was alive. It takes Johanna everything not to show how much those shouts affected her—it could mean more torture for the District 8 victor.

Johanna now awoke from Y/N's screams and drifted into unconsciousness with them, as if by clockwork. The torture was sometimes worse than electricity. Her biggest fear came true—she sacrificed their happiness for nothing.

Mason is drawn away from her thoughts by another couple of screams. The sound of water pouring fills her ears - it's all happening again.

-

Johanna finds herself even more isolated when they are finally rescued. In a sense, they were in this together in the Capitol; she could at least hear other people, even if it was just screams. Johanna was now completely alone; whereas Peeta had Katniss and Annie had Finnick, Johanna had no one to look out for her. Johanna doesn't want to fight anymore. She is tired. There is a void in her soul, and she doesn't know how to fix it.

The doctors here tell her it's okay not to feel understood, but Johanna knows old Y/N would. She always somehow did. Mason wonders why everyone in her life despises her - what has she done to deserve this? Why do others have someone to return to, someone in their right mind? Why couldn't it be them?

Y/N was still under the constant attention of the doctors. They meet twice a week under strict supervision. Y/N listens to Johanna attentively each time, but something about her gaze feels odd. She can't place it - Y/N is distant and quiet, but that's unusual. Mason tells herself that it was the outcome of the torture they had to survive and that she'll get better with time. It's not her Y/N, but Johanna can't be the one speaking. The Capitol changed them both.

It finally clicks for Johanna when she hears that doctors found a knife in Y/N's room. A knife that she intended to use. It was the absence of hope in her eyes that felt unusual; before, it was always there.

''You are such a hypocrite, you know that?" Johanna tells her. They are in a hospital ward. Y/N's face is tear-stained, and yet, she doesn't answer. ''Remember what you told me the first time we met? That you have to live for those who can't?''

Johanna is angry. She is furious, both with Y/N and with herself, as well as with everyone in this dreadful building. Why can't they understand?

''Well, maybe I lied.'' Y/N's voice is hoarse. It was the first time she had spoken since their rescue. ''There is no point in living anymore, Jo. There always was none.'' She shifts on her bed, looking up at Johanna. ''It never gets better. So it's fairer if we end it now and save ourselves a lot of suffering. ''

''No.'' Johanna's hands are in fists, and she comes closer to the woman in front of her. ''You are not fucking allowed to decide that, not when I spent all those days staying alive and sane for you. Do you hear me? Not for me, for you! I woke up and listened to your screams. I thought about you before I fell asleep because I knew we would get a chance to finally have a normal life when this was over. And now you're saying there's no point?''

Y/N's lower lip trembles, with glimmery tears running down her sunken cheeks. ''I'm sorry.''

Johanna sighs and settles in next to her. ''Look, I can't promise anything. I don't know if it will ever be okay. But we can try.''

Y/N looks at her, and her eyes are finally warm again. ''Together?'' she asks.

Johanna feels the knots in her chest loosening for the first time in a while. ''Together.'', she nods.

#hunger games #thg #johanna mason #hunger games johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x you #johanna mason x y/n #hurt/comfort #wlw #au #imagine #district seven #district eight

[iamumbra195]

SBG Hunger Games AU

Ashlyn, forced to survive and take on a leadership role she never wanted in the rebellion. Her parents teaching her to survive as best as they could in hopes that she could protect herself if she ever got hurt and refusing to let her put her name more than once for the reaping no matter how hard things got, only to watch her name get picked out of hundreds of others and not being able to do anything as their only daughter was thrown into a death tournament for the amusement of the rich and powerful. Ashlyn doing her best to survive the games and resenting Aiden for stepping all over her boundaries and poking his nose into her business but slowly learning to love him as time goes on. Her being forced into the arena of her nightmares a year after she and Aiden got out, knowing only one of them would walk out alive this time and she wanted it to be him. Her losing him despite doing her best to try and keep him alive.

Aiden, so hopelessly devoted to a single girl it destroys him. Aiden, the son of the mayor and his wife, whose cousin was reaped just two years before him, losing his voice and passion for singing in the process. Him watching the girl he liked (and was kinda obsessed with) get chosen for the games shortly before his name was pulled and finding it vaguely ironic because he'd always wondered what it was like to die but he'd never really expected that he would die this way. He was always testing the boundaries with the peacekeepers, seeking out dangerous things that he knew would get him in trouble. Aiden, who already knew what the outcome of the games would be because he would make sure of it himself-- make sure Ashlyn would come home even if he didn't. Him watching as she offers him the berries-- both of them go home or neither of them go home-- and falling in love with her all over again. Him volunteering for his cousin and swearing to make sure Ashlyn will be the only one to walk out all over again because he knows they won't get lucky again this time.

Ben, big and charming with a love for singing that helped him get sponsors when he was reaped, having his throat heavily damaged during the games by one of the careers. He beat them to death in his anger and his throat was fixed by the capitol but it was forever changed and artificial and Ben hated the sound of it so he never spoke or sang again, getting angrier and more defiant of the capitol until his family's home was burned down and he realized the capitol would kill them at any time if they wanted to. So he kept quiet and remained on his best behaviour, letting his hatred and anger fester inside him as other kids were reaped and then his cousin, his reckless stupid cousin was reaped and Ben knew he would die in that arena while he could do nothing but stand there with clenched fists and poisonous rage. But Aiden survived against all odds and there were whispers of rebellion and Ben began to hope-- until the victors are reaped and Aiden volunteers for him despite all his protests and he is forced to watch from the sidelines all over again, hoping that Jasmine and District 13 can extract them all from the arena in time.

Tyler, hardened and angry from loss, clinging onto the family he has left and volunteering as tribute when Taylor gets chosen so she never has to fear for her life only for her to get chosen again the next year as a punishment for his own defiant nature. Taylor, who manages to survive her games, watching her brother continue to suffer to protect her from the darker sides of being a tribute. Marianna, a victor who had a mental breakdown after the capitol killed her husband, watching her children go through the same trauma she went through and not being able to do anything about it. Tyler and Taylor being pulled back into that nightmare arena and Marianna volunteering for Taylor and dying in the arena to protect Tyler in the only way she could. Taylor, helplessly watching from the sidelines as her mother dies and falling apart at the seams when she realizes they didn't manage to get Tyler before the Capitol got to him.

Logan, intelligent and kind despite all that he went through, managing to get through his games by being underestimated and hiding with the career pack. His parents watching as he used their knowledge of botany (and drugs) to survive in a forest landscape where tributes from District 3 would generally struggle to survive and coming home despite all odds. Him being dragged into the games all over again barely a few years later.

Ashlyn, Aiden, Tyler, Marianna, and Logan being allies in the games. Ben, Taylor and the others working with District 13 to get the victors removed. Aiden and Tyler being the ones lost to the Capitol. Ashlyn, forced to be a symbol. Taylor becoming more angry and vicious because she has lost her whole family at this point. Aiden and Tyler coming back not quite right, not fully human. Alex Laurier taking on a bit of a mentor role for Ashlyn like Boggs did for Katniss, warning her not to trust Maverick.

Ashlyn and Aiden helping each other heal, the gang and their parents coming together in the end and helping each other heal because they were still kids by the end of it all, even if they were never truly allowed to be.

IT FITS THEM SO WELL, I'M GONNA GO CRY IN A CORNER WHY DID I THINK OF THIS? 😭

#sbg (webtoon) #sbg #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #hunger games au #ashlyn banner #aiden clark #ben clark #taylor hernandez #tyler hernandez #logan fields #maverick sbg #alex laurier #jasmine sbg #plus all the parents #logan's parents are like hilariously suspicous lmao #fanfiction #sbg au #i love them #i love all these kids so much #they deserve the world #if you couldn't tell #taylor and tyler are kinda my favourites #but i still love the rest of them very much #aidlyn #benlor #my beloved ships #I love ashler but I don't think I would ever want it to be canon the same way I like these ones

[atelierlili]

It's time take you back to the past

to play the shitty games that suck ass.

Some besties wanted a list of Everlark fics recs where Katniss and/or Peeta are blasted to the past/alternate universe to relive the events of the games to fix it, so here we are!

Time Is Never Found Again...Or Is It? (113,000 + words) by blahblahblah1703

Katniss, after talking to Snow in his rose garden, finds herself somehow back in her childhood home. She has seven months until she enters the arena for the 74th annual Hunger Games, along with the love of her life, who when she last saw him, was still struggling not to kill her, just perfect.

The pre-game everlark that happens here is 🤌. This is part one of a larger series. The sequel (which is wonderful as well) can be found here. This is the series that got me into this rabbit hole.

Afterburn ( 104,000+ words) by BlueMaple

Katniss Everdeen-Mellark goes to the woods surrounding New Appalachia, a.k.a the former District Twelve, on the morning of the fiftieth anniversary of the final Reaping of the Hunger Games. There, she is literally waylaid by her own past, and wakes in the past, six weeks before Primrose was first Reaped. Alone, grieving, terrified, and without a clue on how she got there (and then), she realizes that it will be impossible for her- on every level- to simply live through events as they transpired in her personal future. With no way to return her to that future, she is nevertheless determined to get back to her own party - hopefully with a lot less damage and fewer crucial casualties along the way.

This is apart of the All Sorrows Less series, which is still being updated. It's filled with wonderful side characters, mindblowing twists, a baby I will kill people for and GILF Katniss, what more can I say?

Second Burn ( 127,000+ words) by carnationhes

Katniss wonders if things could be different if she got a second chance. And then she gets one. This morning she wakes up back in District 12 after Peeta's warning of the bombing on Thirteen.

Have you read Second burn? Why haven't you read it yet? You should read it. It's amazing. Literally makes my brain chemistry tingle. I think this is most accurate depiction of a Katniss being blasted to the past with no meta explanation why. It's sooo soo soo good. I'm on my knees please read it and please read the sequel Ignite as well. This series is so underated please.

over and over (lost again) (13,000+ words) by TeaBrigadier

I died in the Hunger Games. It isn’t even the first time it’s happened. I’ve died in the Hunger Games five times now

This is a very self contained time loop where Katniss continuously relieves the first games until she gets it right. I know it doesn't really fit the theme, but this one makes my feel happy feelings and i wanted to recommend something that's isn't so long so I'm adding it anyway. Deathloops are fun!

Ongoing:

Catching sparks (19k words) (Last update 26 Feb 2024) by Silver_Cleo

The time when 23 year old Katniss and Peeta get transported from their home in what had once been Victor's Village of District 12, and into the bodies of their much younger selves, who have just woken up from exiting the arena of the 74th Hunger Games.

Here Katniss and Peeta get traveled to the past to the point where they just win their games. It's a great WIP. I love Everlark working together and being cute + humanizing the 74th tributes and their family <3

I'm probably missing a few, but these are my favourite ones so far. As much as I love the trope, I know it's a monster to take on from a writing standpoint so props to the writers!

I hope you enjoy them <3 There's nothing I love more than shining a light on amazing fics new and old. If you have recs of your own, please send them my way. I love this trope so much haha

@bbrooklynbabe @nightlocked-in @waywardangel-wilds

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 6

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (vi) - Finnick

[18 & 19] -  THE CAPITOL; TRAINING CENTER; ELEVENTH FLOOR

You and Finnick are sitting side by side when they flood the arena.

An earthquake breaks the dam open and the tributes closest to it die almost instantly, the crushing weight of the water pressure either breaking their necks or knocking them out before they drown. Multiple canons fire one after the other. If Finnick counted correctly, only six tributes are left—five of which aren't from districts with large bodies of water. It’ll only be a matter of time before they tire out. 

He's not hoping that the other kids die, but he is hoping that Annie makes it. She's a sweet girl and she actually took his advice to heart. Unlike his other tributes who usually didn't take him seriously because of his age. 

He feels a smaller hand slip into his and he doesn’t have to look down to know it's yours. Your tributes had died in the cornucopia and it’s been ten days since then. You had no reason to stay behind. But you did. For him.

You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

Once the waters have calmed and the rest of the tributes strive to stay afloat, Annie does the smart thing and moves to float on her back. 

Of course, in a test of endurance, she's the strongest swimmer in the arena. In District Four, kids learn how to backstroke before they can walk. However, there’s no telling how long they’ll be in the water, and trying to tread it will only drain what little stamina she has left.

It takes three hours for three of the tributes to die and five for Finnick to have his first victor.

Socialites and mentors alike surround you and Finnick to congratulate him as they airlift Annie out of the arena. Augustus claps him on the shoulder and Gloss shakes his hand. But the only hand he cares about slips out of his when four different people try to rope him into a conversation at once, your bracelet catching against his.

You say nothing to him as you edge out of the crowd and he supposes you don’t owe him an explanation, but it leaves a pit in his stomach to watch you walk away.

When he comes to the Eleventh floor later that night, Chaff is the one who greets him when the elevator opens, presumably heading out himself. Something he should have expected since you aren’t the only one who lives on the floor, but he’s still taken by surprise.

“Oh. Hey?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, the letters curling and drawing out at the end like he’s just discovered the human language.

“You’re acting like I’m not the face you wanted to see.” Chaff crosses his arms with a beaming grin that spells trouble for Finnick. “What? Am I not pretty enough, Odair?” 

“No, you’re plenty beautiful, Chaff,” he laughs, “I was just expecting Star.”

“Yeah, alright. Go ahead.” He steps aside and Finnick feels like he got caught sneaking into his girlfriend's room. Which isn’t too far off, “I’m sure you know where her room is.” He decides to pointedly ignore that last comment.

He spots Seeder, dishing out playing cards, and Haymitch, drinking, at the dining table and he just knows this will spread like wildfire among the victors. Because, despite being grown men, Chaff and Haymitch are the biggest gossips he knows.

“Ah, there’s the blushing bride!” Haymitch half shouts—half cackles, halfway into a bottle of expensive Capitol wine. He ignores them, which only makes them crack up harder. Finnick is nineteen years old, and as they laugh behind him, he actually feels his age for once.

He’s come to your floor for the past two years. So when your door slides open, you only look slightly surprised to see him. 

“Finnick,” you look over his shoulder like you expected him to bring someone with him, “I didn’t think you’d come. I thought you’d be spending time with Annie.” You venture tiredly.

“I spoke to her after they got her into medic, but not for long.”

After Talon, his other tribute was decapitated in front of her, something happened. Something broke. She cried uncontrollably and screamed when the nurses tried to take her vitals. He was able to help calm her down enough for them to sedate her, but Finnick knows that isn’t going to be an easy fix. No victor comes out of their games the same as when they entered. This is just another example.

You take a step back from him. He didn’t even notice when he got so close and gravitated to you, he never does.

“Well. Thanks for letting me know, I guess. You can go now.”

He stands there, mouth opening and closing.

“I can go—are you mad at me?” He asks incredulously.

"No!" You deny it like the idea of being mad at him never even crossed your mind, yet, he can't help but feel like he’s upsetting you.

"Are you...sad at me?" You hesitate at that and his heart sinks. You sigh and for a second he worries you’re going to send him away.

"C’mon." You wave him into your room. “I’d rather not have an audience for this.” He glances over his shoulder and spots the three adults in the room clearly eavesdropping as they pretend to play cards at the table.

“Leave the door cracked!” You flip off the trio of cackling adults, herding Finnick into your room and you barely get the door closed before he’s apologizing.

“I don’t know what I did, Star, but I’m sorry, okay? And—and whatever it is, sweetheart, I swear I won’t do it again.” He pleads, feeling just as desperate as he probably sounds. He’s trailing pretty close after you through the hallway that curves into your bedroom, so he almost bumps into you when you stop in front of him.

“Finnick, calm down, okay? You didn’t do anything.” You claim, but if that’s true, then—

“I don’t understand. Wh–what’s wrong?” Because there’s definitely something wrong. Your body language is closed off. You’re never closed off around him.

You cross your arms, then drop them and place your hands on your hips. 

“Annie.” You mutter, staring over his shoulder.

“...Annie?” He repeats, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah.” You speak muffled, biting at the nail of your thumb. “I’ve been thinking and I can only imagine how exciting it is for you to have someone your age in Four who’s gone through the same things as you. You guys have much more in common, I’m sure, not to mention you can see each other whenever you want. So, I won’t fault you for, I don’t know, spending less time with me. Or, if you forget to respond to a letter or…something.” You finish off your rambling in a mumble, losing steam.

He blinks at you.

“And why would I do that?” He asks and you throw your arms up in frustration, walking further into the room to crash down into a forest green armchair. What is he doing wrong?

“Because we don’t see each other outside of the Capitol.” You avoid making eye contact and pick at the skin around your nails, a habit he thought you grew out of. “And I’m fine with that, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. You don’t have to settle for this.”

“Do you feel like you’re settling?” He asks, doing, in his opinion, a pretty good job of acting like his heart isn’t hinging on your answer.

“What?! What, of course not.” You look at him like he grew a second head. As if his question isn't completely reasonable given how you're behaving. “We have such little time together.”

“Yeah, and that makes the moments we do get to spend together special.” He argues. Finnick tracks your movements, coming to stand before you. You clench your fist together before hiding them by folding your arms. “What is this really about?”

You take a breath.

"Finnick, we can never be together outside of this city.” You laugh, but he knows it’s not real. “With Annie in the picture, you can have something close to normal. You’ve earned that much.” He takes a second to look you over. Finnick has always been able to pick things up through body language. A skill he developed after Mags lost the ability to speak, and even that took him years to perfect. With you, someone who is practically mute when it comes to your emotions, it was almost instantaneous. He can read you like a well-loved book.

"Will you look at me?" He ducks his head down to get you to look at him, but you're being especially avoidant. 

"I’m sorry, it's really not that serious." You mumble, stubbornly keeping your eyes on the ground, "You don't need to—” He places his hand on the back of your neck, touching his forehead to yours. 

"There you are." He smiles when you finally look up at him. He holds you tighter, free hand sliding down to your waist and his neck straining at the position. "I'm not gonna leave you behind for Annie, okay–I would never leave you behind. For anyone." 

"Why?" You ask barely above a whisper, confusion so genuine that it nearly breaks his heart. Like you can't wrap your head around Finnick wanting to stay with you. He’s failed you somewhere along the way if that’s the case.

He takes a different approach, dropping down to one knee on the cold brown marble floor and then the other until he’s kneeling between your legs. The big green chair is the backdrop behind you, and it really is an enormous chair.

“Finnick,” you laugh, as dulcet as a melody, “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t want normal. I want you. That’s all I ever wanted.” He grins up at you, wrapping his arms around your stomach. "I'll stop needing air before I stop needing you.” He could spend the rest of his life being the most altruistic bastard in Panem and still not deserve you.

You loop your arms around his neck, fingers carding through the back of his hair. He leans into the warmth of your hand and wonders if there will ever be a moment better than this. There’s always been a level of affection between the two of you that's a little too intimate to call friendship, but Finnick’s grown so accustomed to it that he feels unsettled without it.

You lean closer to him, practically sitting on the edge of your seat. "Can I…” You hesitate. “Can I try something?" You ask and he agrees like he always will. He can deny you nothing. 

You move one hand to his cheek. The other grips his shirt as you lean toward him. He holds still—barely breathing, afraid that any sudden movement will make you lose your nerve. 

You run cold, you always have, it’s just another thing to love as far as Finnick is concerned. He himself emits heat like a furnace on the best of days. He remembers cold hands touching his heated skin, cold toes shocking the skin of his legs whenever you lay together. But now, now Finnick feels nothing but a hissing heat as your mouths press together. Heat like a hot knife cutting into a block of ice, like a blazing star consuming him in a ball of fire, only to sizzle into a warm embrace. He melts into you, trusting that you’ll sculpt him back together with your glacial grip.

And you will, won’t you? Take him into your arms and mold him into whatever shape he needs to be to fit inside your heart. He’s had no experience with that sort of thing. He’s never had to, his heart automatically made room for you without any input on his part. There’s a perfect you-shaped hole in his chest and you’ve already slotted into place. When you hold him like this, kiss him like this, he can believe it. Believe that maybe, maybe this is something you’ve been hoping for too—that he hasn’t been alone in his longing.

Your lips are soft, softer than he imagined. You’re softer than he imagined. It’s more of a peck than anything else, but it means everything to Finnick. You stop to take a breath and he moves to follow you as you pull away. He doesn't open his eyes for a second. If it never happens again, if he never has the chance to kiss you again, he wants to commit this moment to memory. Every detail, down to the puff of air against his lips before you leaned in.

Finnick is well aware of the effect he has on people, he’s had five years to come to terms with it. But he’s never been on the receiving end of it before. It’s all new to him—new and utterly terrifying. Terrifying and utterly beautiful because it’s you. It has always been you and it’ll keep being you even if this ends here.

"What was that?" He asks, just in case he’s reading this wrong and you aren’t looking at the kiss the way he is. In case you’re not looking at him like he looks at you.

"...I don't know." You whisper like it’s a secret shared between you two.

"Okay," he exhales between you. He can work with that. Finnick shakes his head. “I don’t need more than that.” He smiles. He’ll give himself to you in whatever capacity you’ll have him, as long as you’ll have him. He doesn’t have the right to ask for more.

“I think,” you start, dazed, and he can’t tamp down the smug satisfaction bubbling up because he did that to you, “I've wanted to do that for a long time." 

He considers it. He's wanted to kiss you since that first night under the stars. When you allowed yourself to be vulnerable—sharing a piece of yourself with him—and you looked at him with a smile that was more genuine than he deserved; too good to be aimed at someone like him. “So why haven’t you?” 

You sway into him like you can’t help yourself and he gets the feeling. You rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“I…I’ve never had anything I've wanted before—I’ve never taken it, but,” you squeeze your eyes shut and he doesn't like that. He doesn't like not having your gaze on him. When did that happen? Under his nose, he's become so needy for your attention, so needy for you, “But I want this more than I’ve wanted anything, Finnick. I want you.”

“Then, take me. Have me." He begs into the crown of your hair, sounding so desperate he’s surprised you haven’t run the other way. But, honestly, he isn’t sure he wouldn’t chase after you. He's been yours in everything but name for years at this point. It’s just one more leap, one more line to cross together because Finnick wants too. He wants and wants and wants. He wants to be yours.

"It's selfish. To want this much, right?" You pull him towards you and he goes. He can't imagine doing anything else. You nose at his jaw and he shivers at the brush of smooth lips and warm breath on the sensitive skin of his neck. He moves his head to the side to give you more room. "It has to be."

"I like you selfish." If this is you selfish, he wants you greedy, he wants you heedless. He wants your want. He closes his eyes, every other sense focused on you. He holds you closer. “I know it’s hard to love me—” 

“Don’t say that. Don’t think my hesitation has anything to do with who you are. It’s just…” You pull back far enough to look up at him, your eyes darting back and forth between his, and he thinks he understands what you’re asking for. 

You’re scared, so you want him to make the choice. You want it to be his decision. He’s scared too, so he understands. He’ll take the plunge and bear the brunt of the fall. There’s not much he can protect you from, but he can do this. He can protect you from himself.

This time he's the one that leans in and you meet him halfway. On instinct, he goes to grab your waist and stops himself. Instead, he grabs the hand gripping his shirt, lacing your fingers with his. 

Finnick's never prayed for anything, he doesn't even believe in a higher power. Yet, selfishly, he begs. Let this be real. Let him keep this one thing. 

Let him keep you. 

Present (VI) - You

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; CHARIOT RIDES

You stand alone in the elevator, skin bristling with the phantom feeling of scrubbing. If your prep team had scrubbed any harder, you're sure your skin would have come off. You rub at the now smooth skin of your face, trying to soothe the lingering sting from the waxing.

Don't worry, there's more! For whatever reason, Tumblr refuses to let me post some chapters in their entirety, so if you want the rest, just click this link!

#finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #hunger games catching fire #hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

[ilguna]

☼ back to december pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you haven't been able to sleep lately, because you can't stop thinking about how you treated Finnick.

warnings; swearing,

wc; 1.6k

notes; this is a songfic. back to december by taylor swift.

part two.

–

If you don’t sleep tonight, you might just consider smothering yourself with a pillow to death so that you never have to deal with this again. At this point, anything more than an hour would be a blessing, because you can’t seem to get more than that.

You’ve tried everything to correct it. You’ve stayed up late, hoping that would fix your sleep schedule, but that only made it worse. You exhausted yourself during the day by continuously running around, which did nothing for you. You’ve drank warm tea, and made sure you had a full belly when going to bed. You’ve taken hot showers until your skin was sensitive, read books until you couldn’t keep your eyes open, and even taken medication to speed the process along. Nothing is working.

This, by far, has been the worst trip to the Capitol that you’ve had in a long time. Not only have you been running on fumes for the past two weeks—both of your tributes died in the arena at the final eight. You could’ve finally brought home another victor, if it weren’t for the career pack turning on your tributes.

Despite the fact that you’ve been mentoring for a few years, it feels like you’re still new to it. You try to help your tribute when they’re in the Capitol by giving them advice that you would’ve appreciated before you went in. You make sure that they’re ready and confident before they go in. You work your ass off by getting sponsors and convincing people to bet on them. And every time, they don’t make it to the end.

You don’t know how Mags did it all these years, how she didn’t drive herself insane from losing teenagers again and again. You’re about ready to tell her to take over. At least she was able to bring them home, all you ever do is bring back luck to the table. The one year you got sick, Finnick and Mags brought Annie home. You tried to tell Mags you were done then, but she insisted that you kept going.

It’s not worth it.

And if you’re on the topic of Finnick, it doesn’t help that neither of you are really on speaking terms. Every year you go to the Capitol together, there’s a barrier between you two, that keeps you from working together. You’ll try to ask for advice, or tell him information you figured out about the tributes, and he always shrugs you off without thinking about it first.

The few times that you do get Finnick to talk to you, he tells you that he doesn’t need your help, and you need to work harder. Supposedly, he feels like he’s the one doing the work the entire time, while you’re off dilly-dallying. Which isn’t true, there have been plenty of times where you changed the game by finding a hidden talent. He just never wants to admit it, because he hates you.

You’re not stupid. You get why, of course. Finnick’s already being the bigger person by even allowing you to be around him, let alone get the opportunity to speak to him. After what happened in December, you’re lucky he doesn’t just up and walk away each time you approach him.

You sit up in your bed, slamming the pillow into your face while you scream into it.

That’s it, you’re not sleeping again tonight. You’re going to get sucked into the same vortex that you did last night, listing all the ways you fucked up when you were dating him. This has been happening for the last couple of days, and all it’s done is make you miserable.

It’s karma, coming to get her revenge for him. After all, it’s your fault that the two of you broke up. You were the one that cut him off suddenly, after months of dragging him through the mud. You still can’t believe he held on for that long, because you would’ve let go at the first sign of trouble.

That’s not who Finnick is though. He let it happen because he loved you, and he was probably hoping that it was nothing but a rough patch, and you would be just fine afterward. You two had gone through worse and managed to prevail, he didn’t have a reason to think any differently.

You wish that were the case now. These past weeks show it more than anything else. You didn’t think that you’d end up missing him this much, considering you were doing just fine without him before. You forgot that he was the one person that was still keeping you grounded.

There have been a few times in your life where you’ve wished you could go back in time and fix things and make everything okay again, even if it was just temporarily. And now seems to be one of those times, too. You’d give anything to go back and stop yourself from being so stupid.

You throw the blanket off of you, getting to your feet. You wander over to the window to see the blurred outside. It must be raining, because there’s raindrops desperately trying to cling to the windows. It’s pitch black out, but you can imagine the trees that you’re flying by.

You turn on the lamp on your nightstand, squinting through the light while you drag your feet to the bathroom. A sudden urge to cry hits you like a truck, because you want nothing more than to sleep right now. The longer you go without it, the more sensitive you seem to grow. It doesn’t help when you’re beating yourself up over the way you treated Finnick.

You’re met with a horror in the mirror, the deep bags beneath your eyes. You turn on the sink, splashing warm water over your face, and letting it drip off your chin while you stare at yourself.

It’s the guilt that’s eating you alive. 

You could apologize to him. It won’t make it better immediately, but it’ll be a step in the right direction. You never said you were sorry, you let it be, assuming that he didn’t want to hear it. If he couldn’t stand a simple conversation about tributes, why the hell would he want to hear your apology for hurting him?

You dry your face, smoothing your hair down. You begin to gnaw on your nails, going into the room to check the time. It’s a little after midnight, there’s no way that he’s going to be up still. If you wake him up, he’ll be pissed at you for it, and that’ll really ruin your chance for a while.

There’s the chance that he’s still awake though. Finnick tends to have a later sleep schedule. And if he is awake, you’d prefer to talk to him tonight, and then face him in the morning when he’s had time to think about it. If he decides not to talk to you tomorrow morning, then so be it, it won’t be any different than how it would be if you didn’t apologize.

You leave your bedroom, heading through the train cars until you find the one that has Finnick’s room. The doors stop automatically opening after a certain time because it would wake everyone up. It allows you to get your ear close to the door, listening for any sound that would indicate he’s awake.

And sure enough, you can hear his laughter on the other side. You back away from the door, closing your eyes while taking a deep breath. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, and you want to turn around and go back to your room, because it’s easier to hide than put your emotions on the table.

You have to do this.

You hold your knuckles over the door for a long minute, working up the courage to do it. You knock a few times, and then take a step back while he decides whether or not he wants to answer the door.

“Come in!” He shouts.

You reach over, pressing your thumb into the button that opens the door from the outside. It whooshes open, blowing your hair out of your face, and revealing you to Finnick. He doesn’t look up right away from what he’s doing, but when he does, you watch the smile fall from his face.

“Oh.” He says.

You can feel the pressure build behind your eyes. You take another deep breath, “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

You don’t move from where you stand, trying to keep the overwhelming urge to cry at bay while also trying to figure out how you’ll phrase it without sounding dumb. You grit your teeth.

“Do you want to come inside?” He asks, face twisted while he watches you in the doorway.

“No.” You say, the word doesn’t sound firm. You clear your throat to try again, “No. I um—I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for that night.” You can’t bring your eyes up from the carpet to look at him. You’re barely holding it together enough as it is, “I shouldn’t have treated you that way, and I am so, so sorry.”

You can feel the lump in your throat. You swallow, trying to get the feeling to go away, but it stays put, “And um… You don’t have to forgive me, but I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. And if I could go back and fix it, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

In the silence that follows, you look at him. You can’t help the tear that slips from your eye, so you reach up quickly to wipe it away. You can see the exact moment the guard that he’s put up every time he’s been around you falls, because he opens his mouth to speak.

You shake your head, “Goodnight, Finnick. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x yn #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick imagine #finnick oneshot #finnick x reader #finnick fanfic #thg #the hunger games #requested #angst

[karikarasuno]

If There Really Is A God

ok hunger games au bc i've been thinking on it. this is for @t-tomuras selfship event

Aizawa Shouta was bred for this. A career tribute from District 2. Trained to kill and not be killed. He was 15 when he fought in his hunger games. 15 and a victor. A silent killer. It was one of the quickest hunger games in history. 4 days.

He hated the games. Hated killing and hated watching it. But what choice did he really have?

You were a surprise. A district 11 tribute chosen to fight just two years after his games. No real will to fight or survive. But there was animosity and rage in your eyes when the camera panned over to you. He was mentoring another career tribute from his district that year. Only 17. Just like you.

While he was a ruthless fighter, you fought with mercy. Unwilling to kill unless absolutely necessary. He watched you mercy kill the young boy who accompanied you from district 11. He would've died anyway. Poisoned. But you spared him hours of pain and suffering. You offered him a quick death. And once he was gone, you cried over his body.

You had no intention of winning. You swore the game was rigged, anyway. So when you were the last one standing. The knife you clung to for days, now embedded in another tribute's chest. You wept when you won. Not in gratitude for your survival. Or in celebration of victory. But for the lives lost. None of them being yours.

Your words still rang in his head. "I don't want this. I never wanted this."

It wasn't until years later that he saw you again. You made the decision to be a mentor. You were jaded and guarded. Most everyone thought you were weak. But no one else saw the strength in your resilience.

It was rare that you ever spoke to each other. But one day, after both of you lost your mentees, a spark of friendship ignited. Reluctantly at first, until that reluctance turned into dependence. You had each other and only each other in this fucked up place.

He came to visit you in district 11 a few months before another reaping. He wanted out and he wanted you to come with him. He found you in a field. Surrounded by blooming flowers and tall stalks of grass. It was hotter in your district. No escape from the sun like he was used to. You stood with a basket in your hands and a scarf in your hair. And he realized then how much he truly missed you.

"What're you doing here, Shouta?" He was fond of the way you said his name. Soft and occasionally tender.

"Came to visit a friend." He offered in response.

"Does that friend happen to be me?" You teased, plucking a small flower from the ground and dropping it into your basket.

"Yes, actually." You smiled at his admittance. For how hard and distant you were when you first met, you were quite gentle and comforting. There was a lull in the conversation. Those happened frequently with you two, but neither of you ever really minded the silence. He took in the sight of the trees surrounding the open area. The heaviness of the woods in the distance. And he couldn't help but cringe at the sight. Nothing about it looking as peaceful as you seemed to be amidst it.

"Being here," he motioned to the forest in the short distance. "It isn't hard for you? Doesn't remind you of the arena we fought in?"

You shook your head, looking up at him from your place a few feet away. "I try not to fault nature for the atrocities of man. She simply exists. Like I desire to."

"You desire to exist?" He chuckled because it sounded absurd.

"No, I desire a simple existence. Big difference," you responded with amusement.

He shielded his eyes in that moment, the sun casting harsh rays over your body and you seemed almost heavenly. Like you shouldn't exist in this plane of existence, let alone simply.

"I don't think either of us were destined to live simple lives."

"Maybe one day." You shrugged, there wasn't hope in your response though. Just a dreaminess that he knew was just that. A dream.

"You're not mentoring this year." He found out from another mentor in district 2. A nasty man who spoke lowly of you. And it boiled his blood. An itchy sensation that told him to flee.

"No. I can't anymore. They're just kids," you replied solemnly, the sun shifting and casting you in shadows instead.

"You were just a kid. As was I," he said it plainly.

"But we're not kids anymore, Sho. We've become the ones who sentence them to death." Guilt. Survivor's guilt or not, rang through his chest.

He stepped toward you. Hand reaching out for your cheek as his eyes searched yours. There was a reflection of all the emotions he knew well. Exhaustion, resentment, and the faintest, tiniest glimmer of hope. Of the resilience he knew you possessed.

"Come with me, then," he whispered, face inches from yours and an urgency in his voice.

"I'm not going back to the Capitol. I can't go back there," you shook your head again, attempting to step away from him until his other hand came up to hold your face close to his.

"No." His hold tightened with desperation. "Not to the Capitol."

"Then where?" You were confused. You didn't understand.

"District 13." There was a sharp intake of breath from you, the basket in your hands dropping with a soft thud to the ground between your feet.

"That's not possible," you whispered with even more confusion. "It was destroyed decades ago."

"It's still there. They're still fighting. Come with me, ple-"

"But," you interrupted him, even though you had nothing to say. Shock still evident, especially in the way you gripped the sleeves of his shirt.

"It won't be simple," he affirmed, his forehead falling to yours. "But-"

"It'll be worth it."

#maybe writing is fun #hunger games au

[kald-dal-art]

I'm assuming your headcanons for Morphling will be covered inside of your fanfic, but you mentioned having a lot for her, would you make a list of them?

Sure I can, because most people don't have all the time in the world to read a super long fic.

I headcannon her name is Maureen Trevi. She won the 49th Annual Hunger Games when she was 18 years old.

(so In Catching Fire she is around 44 years old btw :) )

Before getting reaped she did paint jobs for different vehicles at the same factory as her dad.

She lives with her dad and younger sister and she has an estranged mother.

The last time anyone from D6 won was the same year she was born so she didn't have very high hopes for herself. At the same time she kind of knew moping too much wasn't going to let her win

Her District partner was a 13 year old boy named Dev that had essentially given up before the games even started. Even being the first causality of the game. One of the rare times that last place and first place were from the same District.

The arena for her games was an overgrown humid forest.

During her games she mostly hid with camouflage and used poison to get a upper hand on the other tributes.

She killed 4 tributes during her games, has a lot of crippling guilt around that. Always kind of seeing herself as a coward for how she killed the other tributes.

Had a brief alliance with another tribute because they bonded during training, he unfortunately dies (well yeah duh)

Added to that he was the son of a former victor, so added fun having to see his mom every year afterwards.

Has a low key friendship with Haymitch because of how close their Victory are, and they relate to each other when it comes to the substance abuse problems.

Usually wears long sleeves or long sleeved gloves because she is tired of hearing complaints from capitol audience that they can see needle marks on her arms.

11 years after her Victory, during the 60th game, she was the mentor of a 16 year old boy named Cassius and he ended up winning.

Mostly having a similar strategy as her and even getting her to share the strategies she used for her games because he thought that was the best chance he had to survive.

Unfortunately he ends up pretty quickly following her path with getting attached to drugs to cope with the games and his new life as a Victor.

They mostly bond after the games with art. Her mostly preferring to paint landscapes and him mostly preferring to draw with pen and pencil.

Most of the paintings she has done is usually around landscapes and rather abstract stuff. Usually any excuse to play around with colors.

Also like to think their friendship is WLW and MLM solidarity. Too many fics have the Morphlings as a romantic couple and I am tired of it. Nothing wrong with that interpretation, but it feels very "man and woman is considered a duo, they must be a couple" kind of.

Here are some of the headcannons for her.

#eva answers stuff #the morphlings #of course more in the fic but not going to write a whole ass plot synopsis for it #if you are curious the fic starts around the 60th game and it jumps back and forth between the past and present #thg headcanons #anyways thanks for the ask #not art #district 6 #tofs tag

[periwinckles]

LETTERS FROM NEW PANEM - PART 18

Chapter 18- We're all super hot

“So you’re both victors?” 

“That’s what we were told, yes.” 

The three of us are sitting in front of the fireplace, the one we never light up. Sitting here is reminiscent of happy times when we were kids, and Mom would knit in front of the fire while Wheat taught me to play with marbles and Rye would curl up against her with a book. Those were good times for the most part. Before mom turned depressed and bitter. It’s been years since we sat here, as it was always safer for each of us to return to our rooms. I force myself not to linger on it, and turn to Rye instead.

“You’re not gonna say anything?”

“Sorry, bro, I got nothing.”

I guess it was going too well. But then again when this started, all I ever hoped for was to let her know how much I admired her. Now that I’ve had a taste of what it feels like to be close to her in every sense, I don’t think that’s enough anymore.

“If you ask me, this doesn’t change anything. it shouldn’t. Not if you really love her.”

“Wheat…”

“No, Peet, it’s true. It’s like me and Lindy. Who cares if we both died in the rebellion and never got our happily ever after? I don’t! We get a new chance. We’re still getting married, it’s what we want. What do you want?” He asks insistently

“It was never about what I wanted. I mean… we were thrown together in a death arena? She probably hated my guts.” I bury my head in my arms in self commiseration, a luxury I never allowed myself throughout the years. Whenever mom had one of her fits I knew that just the tiniest moment of self pity would break me. But here, in front of this empty fireplace, I allow myself to have this. One night of sulking to put down the fire in my heart.

“She has her mail delivered to your house. She does not hate your guts.” Rye remarks with annoyance. “Oh, maybe you’re lovers. Can you imagine the scandal?”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER, RYE!”

Read the rest on AO3

#just two more chapter to go guys #And you know I like to keep them short #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #the hunger games #peeta x katniss

[a-strange-inkling]

Me: You have an enough works and WIPS to finish. No more ideas. You have to stop.

Also me: HellCheer Hunger Games Mentor x Tribute AU

(They have major Finnick and Annie vibes, I don’t know why, it must be the tragic, unlikely soulmate thing)

• Eddie Munson is a former *very unexpected* Victor made Mentor of District 6. He won at sixteen years old and developed a drinking and morphling addiction to help cope with the horrors he had to go through. He works with the only other living Victor, Jim Hopper to train new Tributes every year. None of their Tributes have won from their District since his victory. After the death of their first Tributes, he began to work on giving up his vices to be a sharper and better Mentor.

• His heart sinks when he finds out Chrissy Cunningham is drawn as Tribute during her last year in the Reaping and the male Tribute is none other than her old flame Jason Carver.

• President Creele seems interested in a different narrative this year after four years of Career victories. He wants to give the lesser Districts a little hope to keep their spirits. Not too much of course.

• Their Capitol personas aren’t difficult to create, both being attractive and popular even back home. Chrissy is good at pretending to be something she’s not to get people to like her, she becomes a Capitol darling overnight. Whereas Jason doesn’t have to pretend at all, he takes to the Capitol way of life quite naturally. Plus people love that they were former lovers and can’t wait to see that drama play out in the arena.

• Hopper wants to focus on Jason for training. He’s stronger, more determined, and has a willingness to kill. Whereas Chrissy, while athletic and smart, is too skittish and tender hearted to last very long in the Games.

• Eddie however tries to convince him to focus on Chrissy instead. Jason is full of himself, too arrogant and unwilling to adapt to his surroundings… that and Eddie has been secretly harboring feelings for Chrissy since their school days, even though it seems she doesn’t remember him from back then.

• Chrissy tells Eddie to listen to Hopper and choose Jason because he has an actual chance at winning. She tells him she doesn’t care if she dies, that she really has nothing to go home to. She would much rather Jason live instead.

• Jason is still in love and very possessive of Chrissy despite their situation and is determined to keep her safe in the Games and willing to die to protect her. He believes if their Mentors focus on him and keep him alive, he can keep her alive in turn. He tries desperately to rekindle what they had before, but aside from the fact they will be pitted to kill one another, she is seeing a different side of him as the Games approach. Something dark and twisted. Almost an eagerness to get out in the arena.

• They decide to split mentoring, Eddie with Chrissy and Hopper with Jason. Giving both Tributes a chance. Eddie teaches her that there is more than one way to win, and that strength and brute force isn’t necessarily the most important attributes. He won his Games by running away, leaving everyone else behind. He only killed one person.

• They both begin to open up to one another, Eddie about his trauma surviving the Games and Chrissy about her abusive home. He sees and understands her in a way no one else does, not even Jason. As they spend more time together, their deep attraction and admiration for one another grows to be too much to bear until one night he kisses her on the floor of the training room.

• Hopper warns Eddie not to get too attached to her. Reminding him that he knows how this ends; with him watching her die and not being able to do anything about it. But Eddie is determined that she will live, that she’ll win.

• Jason notices the two of them growing closer and becomes consumed with jealousy. He quietly becomes volatile and resentful toward them. A bloodlust taking root deep inside of him.

• Every moment with Eddie makes Chrissy feel like there’s hope. They spend the night before the Games in each other’s arms and Eddie cries, begging her to win, to come back to him because he can’t live without her, he can’t watch her die. She brushes his hair back from his face and promises, for him, that she will try.

#of course it comes down to chrissy v jason in the arena #hellcheer au #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction

[mzannthropy]

I never even thought of the point about Prim and Katniss's mother being left alone if she dies in her second games.>> Me too. I only realized it more recently when I rewatched the first and then the second film. I had only seen the first one once, so I decided to see what her situation was like, and she loved her sister and didn't get along with her mother. I also read that if Katiniss died, her family would have to leave the victors' village, and they would have to return the money. So which makes the whole saving Peeta thing pointless and a forced, cheap romance. At the beginning of Catching Fire, she doesn't give Peeta shit, so when the games are announced, her first thought is to save him and not her sister? And is she the one who inspires the rebellion? She doesn't do anything in the second film that shows she's a hero like she did in the first. All she does is treat Finnick badly even after he saved Peeta; not caring about Mags; and she still planned to run away with Peeta, while the others killed themselves. Detail, from the moment she asks Haymitch to save Peeta, it shows that not even she believed in his potential, which makes him weaker than he is. She can't even save him. If it wasn't for Finnick, he would have died at the beginning of the arena.

Nine years of pent up thoughts, feelings and frustrations about this series--and yet I suddenly struggle with what to say!

If any fans should stumble upon this post--please ignore, thanks.

Let me address your last point first: Finnick saves Peeta's life in the arena. Only for him to die himself. Peeta got to live and have kids with Katniss (that she never wanted), two whole people that would not exist had it not been for Finnick. I hope those brats at least learned his name. (In the book, nothing about any of the other characters is acknowledged, what the film did at the end, with Katniss looking at Annie's photo of her with her son, that doesn't happen in the book--clearly even the screenwriters realised some sort of conclusion was needed!). Look, I don't give a fuck about the k/p pairing, let them live their little life in their little meadow or wherever the fuck they are, I just hate how unfairly the series treats everyone else and how many people lost their lives bc of these two.

K/P are presented simultaneously as star-crossed lovers and fake dating to lovers, so both popular tropes and I wonder if that's why they are such a beloved pairing. Personally, I don't buy either. Like I said in your previous ask, the way they both get to win their first games is way too contrived for me. (Are you telling me that, in the previous 73 games, no other district tried to pull a similar "we are in love" stunt? The very fact that a boy and a girl are reaped from each district, pretty much begs for such a stunt, especially as they're teenagers. Or how about pretending to fall in love with someone from a different district, in the arena? That would make for a juicy viewing!)

Then, I don't understand why Katniss became the Mockingjay, other than that she was the main character and the author wanted it so. She doesn't care about the revolution. She's not some Alexei Navalny figure, gods rest his soul. She's a wind up toy that goes "Peeta Peeta Peeta waah waah waah". Am I supposed to be convinced that someone as powerful as President Snow is threatened by one teenage girl??? He could have her killed and make it look an accident or suicide without a blink of an eye. He could have Prim killed and make it look an accident without a blink of an eye. Jesus.

I don't think any particular character should have been the Mockingjay, btw. I think all of them should have been it. At least those that were at the forefront of the revolution. Go full I Am Spartacus, except literally, after all, this is clearly influenced by the gladiator games.

I wonder if fans of this series are all also k/p shippers, bc there isn't in reality anything else. But bc it deals with Serious Issues, it allows people to make deep posts on tumblr about how oppressive governments are wrong and war is bad. And still they get to have their OTP to write fluffy fanfics about.

I was looking through one-star reviews of Mockingjay on Goodreads again and found a recent one, which articulates the problems really well. Also there is a post I reblogged a while ago. I think the "terminal incuriosity of Katniss's POV" hits the nail on the head for me. Curiosity is a trait value highly, so her narration would never work for me.

I know Katniss has trauma. But the thing is, every-fucking-body in Panem has trauma, bc you can't live under an oppressive regime and not have trauma.

Mockingjay is the most disappointing book I've ever read.

#answered #unpopular opinion #suzanne botched it

[conschintz]

Question! for an oc-ask game you introduced a twelve year old tribute from district 2, raifr lahiffe, and I'm intrigued by what you have for her. would you be willing to tell a few more facts about her or maybe share some snippets(if you have them)? just if you want to ofc.

hi! yes, of course!!! i love talking about her so much!

i'm currently working on her story. i don't have any estimates as to when it'll be done; i still have a fair bit to write, and then there's all the editing and such. i'm hoping it won't be too much longer, but i'm not making any promises!

the basics of it are: raife' older brother, callan, is 18, and supposed to be the first fully-fledged academy volunteer, which is even more exciting because it coincides with the first quarter quell! it's been something building for years; callan has been training since before he was raife's age! there's been fanfare made district-wide for at least a year beforehand. his family even throw a lavish party to watch the quell announcement together. except, it turns out the quell twist is that only 12 year olds can be reaped. so, that's a bummer. since he'll be 19 next year, callan has well and truly missed his chance. but raife's father is desperate; he wants a child who's a victor or died trying. so, what does he do, since volunteering isn't allowed? he bribes district 2's officials to rig the reaping. he sucks.

so, raife is suddenly thrown into the world of being a career. she's thrown into the arena with only 6 months of training. it's, uh, a fun time! just not for the kids in the arena...

she does make friends, though! and she ends up with a cat, after all of The Horrors. so, it's not all bad?

i don't want to share too many snippets, since a lot of stuff might end up cut in the final draft, but here's one that always makes me laugh. for context, morrigan is another oc-victor of mine, trains her for the summer, and ends up being raife's mentor:

As the footsteps recede, Raife rolls her eyes. Morrigan has done nothing but grate on her nerves all summer. Her mom says it’s because they’re too similar—too stubborn. Raife disagrees. It’s because Morrigan is a bitch.

and here's a 100 word drabble i wrote for raife as part of a monthly challenge back in may. the work is on ao3, and features a whole host of my victor-ocs, including the aforementioned morrigan! :

Raife was six when she and her father stuck plastic stars on her ceiling.  Her father had held her up, voicing warm encouragement. Mom was with Callan in the room over, doing the same. It was a nice day. Dad cared, back then.   His voice, so different this afternoon. Cold. Detached. “I don’t believe I gave you a choice.” He would rather she be dead than unremarkable. A Victor, or a tribute who dies trying.  Raife’s chest burns with anger. Her father’s phantom voice cuts through the frigid air. Her fingers sting. And stars and childhood litter her bedroom floor.

sorry for the essay. i just really, really love her! i'm always down to talk about her, so don't hesitate to ask any other questions! :>

#nicki.txt #oc: raife lahiffe #she's my baby #i'm soo excited to share her story once it's fully written and polished! #thank you so much for this ask #i'll always pounce on any chance to talk about this girl

[too-early-for-katniss]

Thinking about what it would have been like if Lucy Gray had found a way to stay in District 12 after her Hunger Games

Lucy Gray singing for pennies and never acknowledging her status as a victor. Her watching Maude Ivory get married and raise a family, wishing that she could have that herself or even be close to her family, but can't because she's too afraid of what Snow will do.

Lucy Gray mentoring District 12 tributes by herself year after year, watching every single pair die in the arena. She struggles with survivor's guilt and feeling like she only won because of cheating and that D12 was never meant to have any victors.

Lucy Gray seeing herself in Maysilee but keeping her distance because it's too painful to get attached. Her being shocked when Haymitch wins but eventually growing to love him like a son. She keeps him from becoming a full blown alcoholic (he still drinks though) and he gives her hope. She presents the Mockingjay badge to the Donner family herself.

Lucy Gray watching Katniss starve after her father's death and wanting to help her grandniece, but not wanting to condemn her to being reaped.

Lucy Gray crying when Katniss is reaped because she feels as if she's betrayed Maude Ivory's memory and it was all for nothing. She and Katniss become extremely close before the games.

Lucy Gray watching the 74th Games and enjoying them for the first time because she knows Snow is squirming in his seat watching her and Peeta. When they both survive, she starts to believe in the rebellion.

Lucy Gray telling Katniss not to volunteer to save her in the 75th games not only to keep up appearances but because she almost wants to go. It would mean that the Mockingjay was safe, and it would let her have one final performance, one final way to show Snow that she is stronger than he will ever be.

Lucy Gray arriving to District 13 and spending some time being gloomy, thinking about how Sejanus could have lived and she could have escaped the capitol if she and Snow had just made it here. She quickly sees through D13's facade and it's the worst day of her life when she realizes Coin has manipulated Katniss.

Lucy Gray being the voice of sanity and comfort for Katniss when everyone else is demanding something of her and she doesn't know what to do about Peeta.

Lucy Gray going to Snow's execution and looking him in the eyes one last time. She calls Katniss her granddaughter in front of him just for spite. She claps when Katniss shoots Coin, and she sings Pure as the Driven Snow for the first time in almost 70 years when he actually dies.

Lucy Gray disappearing soon after Katniss's children are born, because she was always destined to be a mystery, but this time she is remembered as the unsung hero she was.

#mine #lucy gray baird #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #i won't actually write this fic #but i've been thinking about this at least once a month for the last two years #queue