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formereldestdaughter · 1 month

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ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....

This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.

I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?

(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)

I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.

Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.

And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.

I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.

(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)

I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.

We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.

On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??

So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.

It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.

Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).

But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.

Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?

Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?

#peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games meta #anyway wow this got so long and I literally read it through one (1) time so uhhh sorry if this makes no sense!!#as I was doing my one read through and realized that one of my other thoughts on this is that yeah I can much more easily see the #headcanon that peeta like sells baked goods (probably at cost with no profit) out of his kitchen because that’s much more flexible #and I think that would work a lot better with what like I guess I’d call his psychiatric disability post mockingjay #and how he’d certainly want to take care of Katniss too #like that sort of flexibility makes a lot more sense for him and it’s like. if he doesn’t bake for a few days or however long then it’s fin #it’s not a formal brick and mortar business #it’s just something he’s doing because it’s a way to be involved with people and a way to do something he’s passionate about #without there being waste and while covering some of the costs #and he doesn’t have to like keep books or do payroll or any of the things I can’t see him being very passionate about #as far as like bakery management goes Lmao he can just bake!!#but then I started getting into this whole thing about how that quote-unquote ‘running a business’ like that (informally from your house)#is actually a really common practice for people living in poverty so probably something that Katniss and peeta would’ve been familiar wirh #anyway and then this whole rant about how the emphasis on the brick and mortar bakery often goes hand in hand with #this widespread fandom thing of having a fundamental misunderstanding of how rural poverty works and what it looks like #but then I was too deep into it and said you know what? never mind! and deleted it lmao

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finntheehumaneater · 4 months

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Hello! For the angsty-ish prompts, maybe “Didn’t you see what I did?!” and Steddie? (Or another pairing, should the mood strike you!)

Hallo!! So…I maybe saw your ask and got super fucking excited…and possibly wrote this way too fast. It turned out to be longer than I expected, and went in a totally different direction than I had planned, but…here it is!!

(I didn’t read this over, so apologies for any mistakes lmao)

angst prompt list | hurt/comfort prompt list (for people who don’t like angst :D) {more about the asks in my pinned post}

CW: some gorey description used in a metaphorical sense (blood, bones, guts, ripping skin, etc.)

Sometimes relationships weren’t meant to last—“we’re family” lost its meaning to him over time—and that made Eddie want to claw out his bones, hands shaking and blood everywhere so that he could die in peace and not have to worry about pushing anyone away again. He pushed away his mom, and then he never got the chance to get her back. He let his dad do he pushing for him, because he was so fucking tired all the time—came out of that with scars and bruises and a deep cut that ran down his chest, carved open and horrible. No one sales could see it but him. Sometimes it wasn’t there. But it still felt like it. In a way, his dad still had pieces of him that Eddie would never get back.

He pushed his uncle away at first, snapped at him and yelled and threw things, because he was a kid and he was angry, but Wayne was stubborn and just held Eddie as he kicked and screamed and sobbed. And Eddie loved Wayne. He was more of a dad to him than his real one had been. He never forced Eddie to do anything he didn’t want to, and Eddie only finished high school because he didn’t want Wayne to feel disappointed. Like Wayne would ever be disappointed in Eddie. He didn’t make Eddie talk to the neighbors or go out and do things—but Eddie did those anyway, sometimes, to just give Wayne a break.

And the trailer was nice, until they lost it in ‘86. When Eddie’s broken body made it back, more ruined than it had ever been. He had woken up in a hospital bed, wires stuck into him with needles and a blue hospital gown covering him. There was no one with him. He was alone. It’s not like he expected anyone to be there, but maybe Wayne waiting for him to wake up would have been nice. And it hadn’t been a slow kind of waking up like he had seen in movies—blinking up at the ceiling and trying to remember where you were—it had been the fast kind of waking up, like the one you would have after a nightmare. He was upright in a second, sobbing before he could even breathe in.

A nurse came in shortly after and got him to lay down for a while. He asked where his uncle was, and she told him that no one was allowed to visit. She said she was surprised that they hadn’t handcuffed him to the bed, and her voice sounded bitter, like she wouldn’t have liked it if they had.

After a few hours, she had him sit up, and she untied the back of the hospital gown, sliding the blue-and-white dotted fabric off of his shoulders to look at his chest. And Eddie couldn’t really look down all that well, so he just let his head drop as gently as he could, chin pressed to his chest. And he didn’t know why it made him cry so hard to see a line down the front, all stitched up with a thin line of blood leaking down the middle. But maybe it was because the nurse seemed to notice it. Maybe because it made him think of his dad. Maybe it was because it just made everything feel more real.

Some of the stitches were torn—probably because Eddie refused to stay still, all of his body feeling like it was itching and squirming and twisting in ways that hurt—so the nurse fixed them and then gave him a hug. He didn’t know that nurses could do that. He had been in the hospital loads of times as a kid. For when he “tripped down the stairs” or “fell out of bed” or “fell off of his bike”. He didn’t even have a bike until he moved in with Wayne. And whenever he cried, then, the nurses would just look at him like it was an inconvenience for them, and his dad would tell him to shut up so that they could finish up and get out of there. He was eight. That wasn’t fair.

After a little while, Wayne was allowed to come in. And he didn’t say anything at first. Just sat next to Eddie and held his hand while Eddie bit the inside of his cheek until it bled. He didn’t want to cry anymore, but he knew he was going to.

Wayne couldn’t stay forever, because he still had to work. The government hush-money was fine, but they needed that to afford the apartment Wayne had found just outside of Hawkins, so everything else came from his job. When Wayne couldn’t be there, Eddie was alone.

Until Steve Harrington started showing up. Honestly, it was a miracle that the fucking armed guards outside let Steve in, seeing as they weren’t family—barely even friends—but Eddie knew why. Before Steve started showing up, Eddie would talk to the guards. It was more like yelling through the locked door to them, just trying to keep himself busy so that he didn’t break down again, like he so often did. And he’d just talk about anything and everything to them, even though he knew it pissed them off. He kind of did it because it pissed them off.

So having Steve in there with him meant that he would stop bothering the guards. And Steve was mostly quiet, but he would tell Eddie what the kids were up to, and how his neighbor—Max

Mayfield—was up to. She was a good kid, he thought. The two of them had never really introduced themselves to each other, but sometimes Wayne would have Max over for dinner when her mom would go out drinking. That was rare, though, because Ms. Mayfield mostly stayed home to drink. And there were times when Max didn’t want to be home, so Eddie would take the couch and let her sleep in his room for the night until she felt safe enough to go back home. And Ms. Mayfield wasn’t like how Eddie’s dad had been, but she scared Max in a different way. No kid should have to see their parent passed out on the couch that often.

She was in some kind of coma, according to Steve, but she was getting better. He said she opened her eyes a few times, but that didn’t really mean anything, and he knew it. Eddie tried his hardest not to cry when Steve was around, because the first time he had done it, Steve had panicked and looked uncomfortable. He knew it was because Steve had been tired and Eddie had just burst into tears suddenly when one of the IV wires tugged too hard as he moved his arm—but Eddie still felt bad.

Sometimes it happened, and he would wait until Steve was leaving the room to curl up into the bed as best as he could and just cry. And sometimes Steve would turn around and come back to sit with him, to hold his hand and just let him cry for as long as he needed, but most times Steve would leave and Eddie would be alone again.

Steve was there a lot for him when Wayne couldn’t be. And Wayne was trying his hardest, but his boss was strict and he wasn’t allowed to leave early or call in sick. Steve was there when Eddie had to try walking for the first time in three months. Steve was there when Eddie had to start doing Physical Therapy a few times a week. And Steve was there when Eddie had been discharged.

Steve took him to his house, and not to Wayne’s apartment, because Eddie wasn’t really over losing the trailer yet. He let Eddie sleep in the guest bedroom, but they ended up sleeping in the same bed when Eddie’ hobbled over to Steve’s room to lay with him after Steve woke up screaming. Eddie didn’t really have nightmares all that much, because he thought about the shit they had been through all too often, but Steve seemed to try and push those thoughts away.

Eddie woke up with Steve curled into his side, his face pressed against Eddie’s arm, one hand curled across Eddie’s chest and into his hair—over the scar down Eddie’s front that still felt like it was bleeding all the time, even though it was closed. And for a minute, Eddie felt a little safer, turning as best as he could to wrap his arms back around Steve, nose pressed into his hair as he just tried to breathe and go back to sleep.

When they woke up, Steve moved away and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to pry Eddie off of him as gently as he could, because Eddie was still half-asleep and his limbs felt stiff and imoblile. He made fun of Eddie a bit for hugging him in his sleep, before he went down to make food, but Eddie didn’t mind.

He got up and tugged on one of Steve’s t-shirts that he found, before putting back sweatpants from the day before—because Steve had told him he couldn’t wear his jeans until his legs were a bit better, in case they hurt him. Eddie didn’t think that would happen, but the sweatpants were easier to move in considering how stiff his legs always felt. And if it made Steve happy, he’d do it.

He limped down the stairs, nearly slipping—which had happened before—but he caught himself on the railing and went down the straits slower until he was on flat ground and could hold onto the wall better until he got to the kitchen.

Steve had his back turned to him, looking through the refrigerator for bread to make toast, because Eddie was one of the pickiest eaters alive, and was tired of the off-brand cereal he got to eat at the hospital. Eddie struggled to pull himself up onto the counter for a moment, and when he got up there, one of the knobs from the cabinet was digging into his spine—but being up there made him feel taller than Steve, so he stayed.

Steve turned around with the bread, doing a little spin that made Eddie laugh—before Steve saw Eddie and let out a strangled scream, throwing the bread bag near him.

Eddie leaned forward and caught it, smiling to himself. “Morning.”

“Jesus Christ…” Steve breathed, sighing and running his hands down his face, his cheeks flushed as he snatched the bread back and walked over to the toaster.

“Nope. Just Eddie,” Eddie muttered, grinning, but he didn’t really feel happy. Because after this , he was going to be leaving, and then he was probably going to avoid Steve. But he might not have to, because why would Steve want to see him after this, anyways? It was just pity.

Still, Eddie couldn’t help but ask the question that had been gnawing on the back of his mind like some kind of rabid dog. He cleared his throat and looked down, feeling the tears burn in his eyes even though he hadn’t said anything yet. “Why did you let me stay?”

“Hm?” Steve hummed, and it sounded absentminded, like he wasn’t really listening as he put the bread into the toaster and pulled the switch down until it clicked.

“Steve?,” Eddie tried again, and this time Steve turned around. Eddie looked up, and fuck, Steve was looking at him with those eyes again—all concerned and pitiful. And Eddie wanted to rip himself open, peel back his skin and show Steve all of his damaged parts—all of the pieces that he didn’t show anybody else. But he didn’t. He just swallowed and asked again, “Why haven’t you left yet?”

Steve tilted his head to the side, stepping between Eddie’s knees and placing his hands on Eddie’s thighs in such a casual way that Eddie wanted to scream. “I mean…you’re in my house.”

“You know what I mean,” Eddie muttered, his face burning red as he looked away, vaguely feeling a few tears slip down his cheeks. “Don’t avoid the truth, man, I know this is all just fucking pity.”

“Eddie—“ Steve started, his voice sounding hurt as his eyebrows creased in concern, hands reaching up to touch Eddie’s face. Eddie flinched away, the knob on the cabinet pressing even harder into his spine.

“Didn’t you see what I did? With the fucking kids? Why do you think I didn’t let any of them come and see me after the charges were fucking lifted?” Eddie choked out, words biting around the broken sob that he was desperately trying to hold in, because Steve didn’t need to pity him any more than he already had. “I’m a fuck-up! Everyone leaves! And if people don’t do it on their own, I fucking push them away! I’m not—“

Steve tugged Eddie into a hug, pulling him down until his face was pressed into Steve’s shoulder. There was a hand wrapped around his waist, one in his hair.

“Stop it,” Steve whispered, his voice soft. “You’re not a fuck-up. Don’t say that.”

“I am,” Eddie muttered, his voice sounding wet and broken and childish. “I am.”

“I don’t care, then. I don’t care if you’re a fuck-up, okay? I’m staying, and I’m going to help you get better. Because I care about you. Not whatever shitty things you’ve done, Eddie.” His words were quiet, but Eddie felt himself shrink back slightly, sobbing, only for Steve to pull him back again, one hand tracing over his spine in the most gentle way possible.

“You’re an idiot for caring,” Eddie whispered, his hands going limp from where they were previously gripping at Steve’s arms.

“Maybe,” Steve mused, combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair, and Eddie found himself leaning into the touch. “You can’t push me away, though. You’re stuck with me now.”

Eddie laughed wetly into Steve’s neck, shaking his head. “Fine by me.”

This kind of felt good. Like this is what he had been waiting for. Like the aching, sore feeling inside of him was being clouded over by something nicer and more soft—something loving.

It felt like the cut down his chest was finally healing. For good this time.

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