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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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👀if ur still taking asks... can we get some everlark post mockingjay making up after they have a fight/argument?😅😚

Okay! This is gonna be angsty though because that’s all I’m good at. Just forewarning you 😭😭😭. Also, trigger warning ( tw ) : mentions of hijacking and subsequent shove.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” Haymitch murmurs into my hair, his voice awkward but the intent well meaning. It’s not often he has to comfort me after Peeta storms out of the house, too angry to speak, to hurt to care that I’m pleading on the porch for him to come back like a complete mad woman. “It’s okay, the boy will get over it.”

But I shake my head stubbornly, partially because I don’t want false promises — even good intended ones — that I know the old man can’t keep. And partially because I don’t want to hope that Peeta will come walking through that door, magically over the lie I told.

Even though my heart was in the right place. He has to know that. Peeta has to know that in my heart, I only ever intended to protect him. I only ever wanted him to focus on himself and not be consumed with remorse.

Four days ago, Peeta had the most violent episode he’s had in over four years. It was brought on by a combination of sleep deprivation — as a result of his now franchised bakery opening new stores and the demand now to keep up with the growing business — and the stress of it all. And I suppose, probably the biggest factor of all.

Forgetting to take his medication prescribed by Dr. Aurelius himself.

Of course, no one is perfect and Peeta has definitely forgotten to take his daily pill before. A handful of times over the years, he’s completely forgotten it and been fine. At most, he’s been snippy or cranky or short with me.

But it was a completely different experience four days ago. I walked in our home, having returned from the woods as per usual. But unlike my typical routine, when I entered Peeta was there. A fact that in itself is rare. Peeta always has worked hours after I was done hunting. And if I’m being honest I enjoy that in some ways. We’re two natural loners and we both enjoy our alone time.

But he was there in the living room when I returned four days ago and it was ugly. I can’t even describe what happened or what I said to him but in mere seconds he was screaming at me and ranting like he’d completely lost his mind.

Because he had. It was clear that he wasn’t himself, that it was Snow’s conditioning rearing it’s ugly head and not my loving, kind-hearted, somewhat rude but never cruel or mean husband speaking.

I’d tried to calm him down, the same way I do when he has a terrible flashback. By holding him. By hugging him tight and hanging on until the images passed.

Turns out that method — which, I guess, I thought was somewhat foolproof until now — is far from a one size fits all in this situation.

As exemplified by Peeta calling me a mutt and shoving me away from him. Harder than I anticipated. I barely paid any mind to it at the time — to me, it was rather inconsequential to getting Peeta help before — but looking back now, he had pushed me with more force than I knew to expect and the result was me banging my shoulder on the wall.

All in all, it took about three hours of me and Haymitch, Delly and Thom, Leevy and Sae, all together trying to calm him down enough to take his medicine and a big fat sleeping pill and to just calm down.

I didn’t plan on lying. I didn’t even realize there was any reason to, because it wasn’t for at least twelve hours until Delly came by again, took one look at my shoulder and gasped dramatically.

Evidently the contact with the wall left a mark and evidently it was dark enough that it stood out against my olive skin.

And when Peeta woke up, in tears and physical pain, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the bruise. I couldn’t bring myself to answer his petrified inquiry with anything other than no.

“Katniss, did I hurt you?”

“No, Peeta, of course you didn’t.”

I can’t be as bad of an actress as Haymitch once claimed because Peeta searched my gray eyes as they sparkled with tears and he believed me. He believed I’d be honest with him about the things he can’t even remember.

Apparently though all lies must come out, because Peeta never disturbs me while I’m in the shower ever and for some reason, tonight of all nights, he had the desire to tell me about something funny that happened today and it couldn’t wait ten minutes. I don’t know what and I’ll probably never know because the moment he peeled back the curtain to speak, he saw the bruise on my back and there was no avoiding it then. There was no platitude that I could give, no fib I could feed him, that he’d buy.

The end result was a lot of yelling from both of us — me demanding that he understands why I didn’t want to tell him, that he would have done the same exact thing and he’s completely overreacting. Him claiming he needs to know what he’s done, that he can’t trust me if I won’t be honest with him even when it’s hard, that I always did this, I always lied and claimed it was to protect him. Which was true but that doesn’t mean I didn’t get defensive and infuriated over the accusation.

And then he stormed out. He threw over his shoulder that he would be staying at the apartment above the bakery tonight and wasn’t coming home. Me calling him a coward and then screaming at him not to leave on the porch.

“He’s probably going to divorce me,” I say now, but Haymitch shakes his head definitively. He watched the end of our entire encounter and, to my utter surprise, has remained rather calm about the entire spectacle.

“That kid loves you, sweetheart. More than he’s ever loved anything in his whole life.”

That brings on another round of tears though. “I just wanted to protect him!” My voice sounds like it’s choking, like it did a couple weeks after my reunion with Peeta in Thirteen.

“I know. But you can’t. And you need to stop trying.” I look away defiantly but Haymitch persists. “You can’t protect the boy from everything, Katniss. And you are going to ruin your marriage if you don’t stop trying.”

I’m about to fight with the man who I have considered family for the last five or so years, about to ask what he knows of marriage considering the most serious relationship he’s had since eighteen is the woman from District Three who frequents his house on nights and weekends.

But before I can open my mouth, the front door opens and my husband walks right in.

Haymitch doesn’t even seem to miss a beat, unlike me who scowls right at the broad shouldered blonde in surprise. “Hmm, you finally realize that you already rented out that apartment above the bakery? Or you just hear to grab your sleeping bag and toothbrush?”

“Thank you for coming over, Haymitch. But I’d like to talk to my wife now,” Peeta asserts with a confidence that I begrudgingly find attractive.

To my old mentor’s credit, his arm tightens around me and he asks if I’m okay with him leaving. I nod, because I know Peeta would never hurt me. The person who shoved me off him in his episode four days ago wasn’t Peeta and if I know anything about him at all — and I’m his wife, for crying out loud. I know a lot about the man — he’s going to ensure that it never happens again.

As soon as Haymitch closes the front door behind him, Peeta reaches for my hand. I pull my arm away though before he can make contact, because I’m still too hurt by his abandonment and I’m too petty to forgive as quickly as I probably should.

“Can you come talk to me?” He asks quietly, all of the authority he possessed with Haymitch suddenly eviscerated.

“About?” I murmur, in a slightly sour tone.

But he doesn’t take the bait and instead sighs and cuts to the chase. “I need you to be honest with me, Katniss. At all times. Even when you think you’re protecting me from myself — no, actually, especially when you think you’re protecting me from myself.”

“If this we’re reversed, you know you’d do the exact-“

“But it’s not reversed,” he maintains and I can see in those blue eyes that I love that he’s dead set on this. There really isn’t that many things Peeta gets stuck on but evidently this right here is one of them. “It isn’t reversed and even if you’re right and I did do the same thing, you would be angry right now for the same reason.”

He has me there. I would be mad if he lied, claiming it was for my own good. But I can’t help but argue, “I still wouldn’t run out on you.”

His expression changes then, morphs into something softer. “I know,” he whispers finally and then offers me a half-smile that looks sadder than a frown. “That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

I shrug and avoid his eyes now, feeling more wounded than I want to admit. His thumb comes up and touches my cheek, swiping away the evidence of my tears. “Hey, this doesn’t work if you won’t talk to me too.”

“I don’t know, Peeta. I just don’t … I don’t …” I take in a deep breath but find my will to continue gone.

“You don’t what?” He prompts quietly, feeding off my every word. Looking so intense, so determined now to fix the gap between us, that I’m angry. I’m angry because I wanted to talk like this hours ago, not after he stormed off and I stewed under the impression that he wasn’t even coming home.

“I don’t let people in,” I blurt out finally, pushing his hand away from my face. I wanted him home but I don’t want his touch right now. It softens me too much. “I don’t let people into my…” I don’t know what word I’m searching for and I’m awful at speaking or articulating or whatever we’re doing now and I just want to disappear at the moment.

But it seems Peeta has a good guess for what I was trying to get at. “Your heart?”

“Yeah. That.” I blink a few times, trying to push the moisture back from eyes. “I don’t let people in and when I do.” I take a deep breath before finally spitting out, “when I do, I trust that they’ll never leave me… and they always do. One way or another.” I can’t stop my eyes from leaking any longer and I don’t have to look at Peeta to know his eyes are soft as butter, staring at me with nothing but compassion now. “I just thought you of all people would understand that.”

I already know what he’s going to do before he does it so I’m fully prepared when he puts his arms around me, lifts me up and sits back down with me in his arms. “Katniss, I didn’t leave you,” he says, but I shrug because it felt like he did. “I will never leave you. Ever. You have to start trusting that eventually.”

Now he’s repeating the same thing Haymitch already said. I really hate when that man is right.

“It’s not easy,” I quietly admit after a moment of silence and feel his lips touch my hair.

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know that it’s not. But you have to believe me,” he implores, reaching out and picking up my hand for emphasis. “I gave you this ring because I love you and I’m going to love you for the rest of my life. Me leaving to cool off is not leaving you and you have to know that.”

I release a breathe I didn’t even realize I was holding and nod, knowing he’s right. “Peeta, I’m sorry I lied to you,” I whisper, because the exchange feels incomplete until I apologize.

His hand moves to where he knows the bruise now lies. “I know what you were trying to do,” he says but his eyes look too sad and I still really wish he’d never found out about this.

I continue though, still needing to get more off my chest. “I didn’t mean to, I just hate seeing you beat yourself up over things you can’t control.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice even. He lightly grabs my chin then, pushing me to make eye contact now. “I know, baby. But you can’t protect me like that. You can’t protect me from me.”

His words cause my chest to ache abruptly, because I know he’s right and I absolutely hate it. I want to protect him from his hijacking. I want to shield him from the aftereffects of the abuse he suffered, because he was in love with me.

Well, actually because I was in love with him.

“I’m not good at that. Watching people I love suffer in pain.” He smirks now and rubs my back in soothing circles.

“Yeah, I know that too.”

I roll my eyes at him before finally relaxing against his chest, leaning my head on his shoulder. “I hate what happened to you,” I whisper, barely audible. But he hears it. He hears it and he presses his lips to my forehead in response.

“So do I. But it’s over now.” Our eyes meet again, blue bleeding into gray and I see a look of acceptance, of resignation in his gaze. “It’s long over and we have to do our best to move on. Or else we’re letting what other people did consume our lives. And then we let Snow win.”

“He’s dead,” I can’t help but murmur.

“So he better not win then.” At that, we both laugh. “I love you,” he whispers softly.

I smile lightly before leaning in and kissing him full on the lips. “I kind of love you too.”

“Kind of?”

“Don’t push it.”

#everlark #yeah idk what this is this went on for a long time but I still hope it satisfies you anon my bestie #😬😬😬😬😬#drabble #only a really long drabble #this is a oneshot lbr #an unedited one so ignore grammar mistakes and misspellings!!??#thg #my writing #my drabbles

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are slowly becoming a proper team! No more secrets! (for the most part)

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 4-6 are below the cut.

heart

Losing that comfort of sleeping in each other’s arms after the Victory Tour must have been hard for Katniss and Peeta! Up until Katniss hurts her ankle, they probably didn’t really do much about it, just trying to make it through on their own... After she hurt her ankle and Peeta’s spending more time over at her place, I can easily imagine him staying over, at least until she’s fallen asleep, which might help a little... Since they are living only three houses apart from each other, I like to imagine that they can see each other’s bedroom windows from their bedroom (how else would Katniss know that Peeta sleeps with the windows open? I can’t really imagine that they would be able to open the windows of the train they were on - y’know, for “safety reasons” (i.e. making sure nobody can escape)); maybe they’d both light a candle and put it by their window, as a signal they are going to sleep... It’s not the same, but it helps a little

mind

I mean, aside from the systemic rigging of the reaping system (i.e. poorer people generally having more entries, so they can have some food), I can easily imagine there being a manipulation of the “odds” when someone becomes too vocal or troublesome for the local authorities, such as someone trying to unionize a district’s workforce, for example

soul

In the districts, their impact has to be big - their win alone was a huge defiance of the Games as they used to be... sticking together and sticking up for each other ultimately led to them defeating the Capitol’s rules! In-between the Games and the Victory Tour I don’t think there was much noteworthy going on (although maybe the fact that, so far, none of the new victors’ loved ones had been hurt - Prim, Mrs. E., but also Gale and his family would be visible during the celebrations, I’m sure, same probably goes for the Mellark’s - might tell the people in the district that Snow and his cronies were aware of the attention any assassination attempt would gather and that this, in turn, might actually could become the last straw that would spark a revolution. In a way, that was proof that the people on top were at least a little afraid of what the people in the districts would do...) And then, especially during the visit of D11, with Katniss expressing her thanks and Peeta reaching out to share their winnings with the people from D11, another district than their own - it must have provided a lot of inspiration, I’m sure.

As for the Capitolites, maybe some of them would notice for once how unhappy/riled up the people in some of the districts were... or at least stop to think about how this time, a show of love and companionship actually provided more “entertainment” and intrigue than the brutal gore and bloodshed from previous Games (also, longer lasting - there is actually much more “story” to be had from the star-crossed lovers from D12 than from any individual winner of previous Games, if you think about it... Their “love story” is still on-going, with an upcoming wedding and the promise of a family... it’s still creepy and voyeuristic as hell, though)

Chapter 4

Everything he [Haymitch] said was true about the Capitol’s expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn’t really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. - God, this sucks so much! As Katniss rightly points out, her misery isn’t about Peeta at all - it’s about her (and also his, just pointing that out) agency being taken away! She’s being stripped even of that little sliver of agency that inhabitants of D12 usually have (choice of whom to marry, or whether to marry at all)

I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. - Eugh, just the idea of Snow being the one to have the last word on that subject... 🤢 The invasion of privacy here... - The only person who should get to decide whether Katniss should have children or not is Katniss herself! Period!

My mind searches frantically for a way out. I can’t let President Snow condemn me to this. Even if it means taking my own life. Before that, though, I’d try to run away. - Boy, Katniss is even contemplating taking her own life, rather than to submit to the life the Capitol wants to force on her; it’s not her first choice (she’d rather run away), but it shows the desperation she’s feeling

Could I even manage to take everyone I love with me, start a new life deep in the wild? Highly unlikely but not impossible. - Later we will see that Peeta and Haymitch also belong into the category of “people Katniss loves” 😊(as well as her family, Gale, and his fam, of course)

“And Peeta’s team is probably still asleep.” “Doesn’t he need prepping?” I ask. “Not the way you do,” Effie replies. What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in. I hadn’t thought about it much, but in the arena at least some of the boys got to keep their body hair whereas none of the girls did. - Gotta love that everlasting sexism that, even far into the future, still won’t allow women to have frickin’ body hair (y’know, like most humans do 🙄)

I can remember Peeta’s now, as I bathed him by the stream. Very blond in the sunlight, once the mud and blood had been washed away. Only his face remained completely smooth. Not one of the boys grew a beard, and many were old enough to. I wonder what they did to them. - Katniss seems to have committed every single detail about Peeta to her memory, including how his body hair looked when she cleaned him in the last Games... okay 👀😏 On a more somber note, what is it that the Capitol is doing to these poor kids?! The boys couldn’t grow beards and - I’m assuming - the girls wouldn’t get their periods while in the arena (since the Games can last for weeks, it would be a huge disadvantage if any of the girls also had to content with cramps + periods - aside from worrying about getting murdered, I mean); it’s such a violation of one’s autonomy over one’s own body, yikes

Flavius tilts up my chin and sighs. “It’s a shame Cinna said no alterations on you.” “Yes, we could really make you something special,” says Octavia. “When she’s older,” says Venia almost grimly. “Then he’ll have to let us.” - Eeek, no thanks!😦 And frankly, it really shouldn’t be Cinna’s call to make but, y’know, Katniss’s!!! I don’t know, I get real panick-y just reading this exchange (I have never even gotten my ears pierced - my mom wouldn’t let them be pierced until I could make my own decision on that subject matter and as someone with skin issues and bad experiences with needles, I really don’t feel the need to have any unnecessary metal inserted into my body, so... I’m good)

His [Peeta’s] apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Game was something of an act. But I don’t hold it against him. [...] “I’m sorry, too,” I say. [...] “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were keeping us alive.” - That apology of Peeta’s... *chef’s kiss*; it was totally understandable that Peeta was upset and needed some time apart from Katniss after her confession, which had caught him completely by surprise, not even Katniss blames him for that... But his apology shows that he really made use of their time apart to work out his emotions and to reflect on both their situations - that’s some emotional maturity to be envious of! Plus, his apology is a good move to get their communication channel opened up again

It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. - Come on, Katniss, cut this boy some slack! He can’t read minds - how is he supposed to know about these things if you don’t tell him anything? It’s nice that you’re glad that you guys are on speaking terms again, but communication isn’t a one-way street, y’know?

I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. - Katniss really should have listened to her instincts here - Haymitch might have a better idea of how the Games/Capitol works, but he knows little about teamwork, which is an important factor in their specific (and unprecedented!) situation; I’m not blaming Katniss for relying on her mentor here, but this entire approach is going to crash and burn in the next chapter

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand. - Not to say that you can’t have friendships where you frequently hold hands - you totally can - but it is noteworthy that I don’t think I can recall Katniss holding hands with any of her other friends... (somehow, I can’t really picture Katniss holding hands with Gale casually like that... nor with Madge or Finnick later on)

At the door, I remember, “I’ve got to apologize to Effie first.” “Don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Peeta tells me.- There is something about this exchange that speaks to me... maybe because it reads like some sort of an inside joke between them? Or because it shows that, despite being on good terms with Effie, Peeta’s totally aware of how high-maintenance/over the top Effie is... I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peeta has painted the Games. Some you wouldn’t get right away, if you hadn’t been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. [...] Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. [...] And me. I am everywhere. [...] “What do you think?” he asks. “I hate them,” I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. - These are the pieces Peeta meant to exhibit in the Capitol, right? I wonder if he hoped that these paintings of his impressions/memories of the Games might actually connect with some Capitolites and might even move them to feel some empathy for the Tributes? Maybe he hoped that they would be more receptive for that kind of thing if he packaged it in art?

“All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you’ve brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?” “I see them every night,” he says. [...] “Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?” “I don’t know. I think I’m a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am,” he says. “But they haven’t gone anywhere.” - I do wonder, whether and how painting out these moments could have therapeutic value for Peeta - on the one hand, the act of painting out specific intrusions/flashbacks might be helpful because he’d end up focusing on the more technical side of painting, y’know? Focussing on mixing the right shade of a certain color might help create some emotional distance from the moment itself... also, since painting usually takes some time, Peeta would actually spend a considerable amount of time facing these moments head on, rather than trying to avoid them (avoidance tends to increase the frequency of flashback/intrusions) and maybe spending so much time on them could also help him contextualize them within the broader narrative of his life, which is the basic principle behind Narrative Exposure Therapy, which is said to be pretty effective at treating PTSD... just my two cents

I can’t believe the size of District 11. “How many people do you think live here?” Peeta asks. I shake my head. In school they refer to it as a large district, that’s all. No actual figures on the population. - Perfect example of how tightly the Capitol controls the information the people in the districts have about the other districts... which is basically nothing. Let’s keep them in the dark so they are less likely to connect with each other and band together...

Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. - Lol, Katniss bringing everything back to Peeta because she definitely hasn’t a crush on the guy, I see 😉

And then he [Peeta] hesitates before adding something that wasn’t written on the card. Maybe because he thought Effie might make him remove it. “It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we’d like for each of the tributes’ families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives.” - Peeta, the rebel! Talk about an act of radical kindness! I’m so proud of him. But also, I think this is another excellent example of how he and Katniss are on the same wavelength (this took me some time to find, but here you go): I silently say good-bye to Thresh and thank him for my life. I promise to remember him and, if I can, do something to help his family and Rue’s, if I win. (Ch. 23, THG)

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift... it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all. - Peeta: does anything that exemplifies his sense of morality; Katniss: *swoons* - but honestly, it is so beautiful how Katniss is so attracted to Peeta’s goodness and kind heart - it also tells us a lot about her (she is quite pure, as Peeta will point out later in this book) and what she values

“Wait, please.” I don’t know how to start, but once I do, the words rush from my lips as if they’ve been forming in the back of my mind for a long time. - And then Katniss launches into one of her spontaneous, heart-felt, and inspiring speeches/acts, expressing her thanks, sympathy, and a sense of kinship with people beyond the borders of her district, beyond the superficial barriers the Capitol has been trying to maintain in order to weaken the ‘common folk‘ and keep the exploitation going

The full impact of what I’ve done hits me. It was not intentional - I only meant to express my thanks - but I have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. - Again, Katniss has done something that will solidify her as a symbol of the revolution without intending to do so and that’s the point, I think - she inspires people through her genuine displays of caring for others (which, in Panem, is already rebellious on its own)

Chapter 5

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. - Protective Peeta! Also, I think it’s interesting to note the wording of Peeta’s arms “encircling” Katniss and then “guiding” her - his arms surround her, and he’s leading her away from harm (at least to the extent that is in his power - can’t really be safe from harm in Panem, can you?), but it doesn’t seem smothering or oppressive to Katniss in any way -”guide” has more of a connotation of giving direction without force, imo; in contrast, when Katniss talked about her kiss with Gale she mentions she’d never imagined how those hands [...] could as easily entrap me. (Ch. 2, CF); granted, these are two very different situations - the phrasing just stood out to me

“What happened?” Effie hurries over. “We lost the feed just after Katniss’s beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!” - Very telling how a clueless Capitolite like Effie wouldn’t register the rebellious aspect of Katniss’s speech; by keeping the Capitolites in the depths of sweet, sweet ignorance while simultaneously harshly trying to curb any spark of rebellion by cutting off the feed, the government is actually drawing the attention of the ignorant Capitolites to the act of rebellion itself (and also letting the people in the districts know that there was something censor-worthy going on); kind of shooting themselves in the foot here

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staricases and increasingly narrow halls. [...] Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. - I wonder how Haymitch has come to know this part of the Justice Building? Has he been to District 11 more often than Katniss supposes (he is friends with Chaff, after all), did his mentor take him there for some private conversation, or was there a moment during Haymitch’s Victory Tour where he felt so overwhelmed by feelings of guilt and powerlessness that he fled to the most desolate, solitary place he could find?

“I was supposed to fix things on this tour. [...] Calm things down. But obviously, all I’ve done today is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished.” I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing. - Obviously, all of this is awful and no one - especially a traumatized, 16-year old girl - should have to suffer carrying such a burden... But also, here we see one of the downsides of Katniss taking sole responsibility for everything - she totally forgot that Peeta might feel responsible too, only that he didn’t even know what’s at stake - which leads us to-

“Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money,” says Peeta. Suddenly he strikes out at a lamp that sits precariously on a crate and knocks it across the room, where it shatters against the floor. “This has to stop. Right now. This - this - game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.”"It's not like that, Peeta-" I begin. "It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. - When kind, gentle Peeta’s mad, you know shit has hit the fan 😳 But also, being passed over/kept out of the loop seems to hit pretty close to home for Peeta (while I would like to know what his home life looked like before the Games, I have to admit that at this point, I’m somewhat afraid I might not be able to handle the truth...). I just think this scene is an important moment that leads to an end of (most of) their detrimental secrecy (hello end-of-CF-Haymitch!) and establishes their little team as such (hence the drawing)

“You’re always so reliably good, Peeta,” says Haymitch. “So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn’t want to disrupt that.” “Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today.” - Remember the last time someone overestimated Peeta (Foxface and the berries)? That ended in someone’s death as well... And, Haymitch? ‘Never assume’ applies to you, too!

“Do you think I gave them [Rue’s and Thresh’s families] a bright future? Because I think they’ll be lucky if they survive the day!” Peeta sends something else flying, a statue. I’ve never seen him like this. - Considering that his rebellious act of kindness is now threatening to become a sword of Damocles, hanging over those towards which he wanted to extend his kindness - simply because he’s been kept out of the loop (again)- Peeta’s anger is quite understandable

“Look, boy-” Haymitch begins. “Don’t bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I’d have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we’re very good.” - Peeta doesn’t really care if it’s just his life on the line, but if other people’s lives are at risk? He takes no shit (it’s admirable in one way and deeply concerning in another); also, Peeta is right - while there still is a game to play, it’s not the Games, so different circumstances and rules apply

“From now on, you’ll be fully informed,” Haymitch promises. “I better be,” says Peeta. - Peeta generally is a very cooperative fellow, but don’t ever think he can’t be forceful and stand his ground when it matters!

“Did you choose me, Haymitch?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? You like him better,” I say. “That’s true. But remember, until they changed the rules, I could only hope to get one of you out of there alive,” he says. “I thought since he was determined to protect you, well, between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home.” “Oh,” is all I can think to say. - This is such a quiet, sweet moment and also shows that Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta have been some sort of team from the start (also, in their team effort they actually managed to get the both of them back home!)

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it. The warning, the shootings, the recognition that I may have set something of great consequence in motion. The whole thing is so improbable. And it would be one thing if I had planned to stir things up, but given the circumstances... how on earth did I cause so much trouble? - Lol, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here, Katniss ;) Frankly, the Capitol has been the one to create this powder-keg they are sitting on in the first place - all it needed was a little spark... All these injustices, the humilitation, the pain inflicted... it’s like an elastic rubber band that’s been stretched and stretched - until it snaps

“I’m something of an expert in architectural design, you know?” “Oh yes, I’ve heard that,” says Portia before the pause gets too long. - Bless Portia’s heart, making sure they avoid that awkward silence 😂

Effie looks so distressed that I spontaneously give her a hug. “That’s awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the dinner at all. At least until they’ve apologized.” - Aww, Katniss doing something nice for Effie!😊

Peeta and I join hands. “Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions,” says Peeta. “And it isn’t as if I haven’t kept things from you in the past.” - Peeta sorta apologizing, even acknowledging that he also had kept secrets from Katniss? We love to see it👍 - [...] “I think I broke a few things myself after that interview.” “Just an urn,” he says. - Peetaaa... stop diminishing your own physical injuries! Good thing that Katniss won’t let him: - “And your hands. There’s no point to it anymore though, is there? Not being straight with each other?” I say. “No point,” says Peeta. - Gasp! Honest, open communication as a good basis for a successful relationship? It’s more likely than you think!

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?” I’m so startled I answer. “Yes.” With all that has happened today, has that question actually been preying on him? - Peeta, you sly dog! Your priorities 😂

Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victors’ ceremonies. But in others - particularly 8, 4, and 3 - there is genuine elation in the faces of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. - I do think that it’s interesting how D4 is one of the districts being elated to see Peeta + Katniss and displaying such fury, despite being a Career district; just goes to show that, just because their odds are better at winning the Games, doesn’t have to make them more simpatico with the Capitol’s cruelty... (Considering how Finnick knows how to perform CPR, it’s highly likely that people in D4 are also used to awful and precarious working + living situations... maybe that’s exactly why they generally are so robust and do well in the Games; and maybe they are simply not that above joining the other Careers as long as it improves their chances of survival, like Katniss or Thresh had been... worked for a while for Peeta, too)

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. [...] Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms. - 😭 Also: Very telling how Capitolite Effie just throws pills at the problem (with the best of intentions, I’m sure), which is an immediate, unpersonal, and superficial solution at best, whereas Peeta holding Katniss, offering comfort, understanding, a sense of safety, and human connection is so much more personal, intimate, and effective (for both of them!)

I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from District 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? - You know why, Katniss - I suppose that before the Games I didn’t pay attention and afterward I didn’t want to know. - Still, not knowing his name didn’t stop you from humanizing him, Katniss, and that’s important, too

Whatever we do seems too little, too late. Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, I’m the one who suggests the public marriage proposal. Peeta agrees to do it but then disappears to his room for a long time. Haymitch tells me to leave him alone. “I thought he wanted it, anyway,” I say. “Not like this,” Haymitch says. “He wanted it to be real.” - Come on, Katniss, don’t be so callous; Peeta’s just as much of a prisoner here as you! Also, it’s all about being real or not real with these two, isn’t it?

Chapter 6

... you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair. Here’s what’s strange. The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. [...] That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I am free to act as desperately as I wish. - Honestly, I think it was pretty short-sighted of Snow to let Katniss know so clearly that she didn’t succeed in her task; she did her utmost and it wasn’t enough - might as well fling caution to the wind now. All bets are off. If there had been still some small chance she could have ‘made things right’, she probably would have been trying harder to comply to his expectations. (I’m sure Snow thought the upcoming implementations of his stricter regime would be enough to keep Katniss in check, but pride comes before a fall ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It’s essential to get back to District 12, because the main part of any plan will include my mother and sister, Gale and his family. And Peeta, If I can get him to come with us. I add Haymitch to the list. - For such a ‘loner’, Katniss sure has a lot of people that are important to her... And how ironic that Peeta, who she isn’t sure she’ll be able to convince in following her will be a much more willing participant that Gale, who Katniss is pretty much banking on joining her

“You’ll probably have to pass a new law,” I say with a giggle. “If that’s what it takes,” says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh the fun we two have together. - The dynamic between Snow and Katniss is so strange; despite the obvious antagonism there is definitely some vibe of interacting with each other at eye level and it’s weird (Sidenote: Is there any law in Panem preventing minors from marrying?)

“I want to taste everything in the room, “ I tell Peeta. [...] “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says. “Okay, not more than one bite of each dish,” I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups - couldn’t have happened to me; I hate soup (like, thick soups I maaaybe can get behind, but clear soup/broth is just flavored water to me, no thanks - then again, I’m a picky eater)

Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food. - Well isn’t that a mood for every social gathering ever (one person I enjoy talking to and lots of food I like? Perfect.)

I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce. Delicious. But I make Peeta eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things - Katniss seems to like the combination of meat and fruit, huh? (the lamb and plums, now bird and orange sauce) Personally, it’s a combination that’s on thin ice for me; there are only a few dishes with that component I actually like and it took me forever to tolerate them (I don’t know if it’s the texture or the taste, but something makes me apprehensive about it); anyway, Katniss making Peeta eat the rest is such a casual, couple-y thing to do (or at least something you do with someone you feel very comfortable with, I think)

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. “You mean this will make me puke?” My prep team laughs hysterically. “Of course, so you can keep eating,” says Octavia. “I’ve been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?” I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. - Oh boy, I have a lot of thoughts on this part: A) I just noticed how this is the second delicate/fancy glass/drink that’s bringing about a jarring revelation: first that orange juice with the frilly straw in THG, now these tiny wine-stemmed glasses, B) “Everyone does it” + “how else would you have fun?” are the shittiest reasons I’ve ever heard at a party for doing something stupid you probably don’t want to do (I’m having flashbacks to all the times I had people trying to pressure me into drinking alcohol as a teen - it was even legal, btw - although I insisted that I didn’t like the taste (which I still don’t, to this day); it was tiresome 😑), C) “everyone does it” - the people in the Capitol must have some messed up teeth if that’s a regular occurence (sure, they probably bleach their teeth all the time, but also... they’d really need to, D) the obvious: how effed up that they just puke to stuff in more food when in the districts people literally are dying from starvation?! (and yeah, unequal distribution of resources sadly isn’t just a thing in Panem, I know... but there is something about actively purging yourself just for funsies that’s just extra, well, sick)

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents cannot give. More food. - God, how awful! How powerless they must feel 😟

And here in the Capitol they’re vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. - Ooh, I’ve never noticed before how this passage not only recognizes physical reasons for purging, but also mental reasons! Wouldn’t have necessarily expected Katniss to acknowledge eating disorders like that, tbh... She has become a lot more cognizant and sensitive when mental health issues are concerned

One day when I dropped by to give Hazelle the game, Vick was home sick with a bad cough [...] he still spent about fifteen minutes talking about how they’d opened a can of corn syrup from Parcel Day and each had a spoonful on bread and were going to maybe have more later in the week. How Hazelle had said he could have a bit in a cup of tea to soothe his cough, but he wouldln’t feel right unless the others had some, too. - Aww, Vick is such a sweetheart! Hazelle is raising her kids right!

“Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment,”I say. “Really, this is nothing by comparison.” “I know. I know that. It’s just sometimes I can’t stand it anymore. To the point where... I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He pauses, then whispers, “Maybe we were wrong, Katniss.” “About what?” I ask. “About trying to subdue things in the districts,” he says. - Peeta’s rebellious nature coming through again!

“Sorry,” he says. He should be. This is no place to be voicing such thoughts. “Save it for home,” I tell him. - I know Katniss means D12, but her phrasing of “home” evokes a more domestic, couple-y connotation again 😊

I don’t want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee. I don’t want to feel his hands, one resting against mine, one on my hip. I’m not used to being touched, except by Peeta or my family, and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my skin. - It’s telling that, while Katniss is not big on being touched aside from her family (does that include Gale? probably? although they hadn’t even really hugged until Katniss had been reaped, so... I dunno), she’s totally fine with Peeta touching her (more than that: remember how good she felt holding his hand again in Ch.4 and how she’s feeling safe in his arms when they are sharing a bed), it says a lot about how comfortable she feels around him

Plutarch steps back and pulls out a gold watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time, and frowns. “I’ll have to be going soon.” He turns the watch so I can see the face. “It starts at midnight.” - Honestly, this very subtle hint/foreshadowing of the clock setup of the Quarter Quell arena is simply brilliant! And also, midnight is going to become an important point in time as well from here on out (lightning tree, in the hanging tree song, saving Peeta and the others from the Training Center in the Capitol)

It’s another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin on my dress. Only this one disappears. He snaps the watch closed. “That’s very pretty,” I say. “Oh, it’s more than pretty. It’s one of a kind,” he says. - The disappearing mockingjay on the clock is interesting because A) Plutarch can’t really be flaunting the symbol of rebellion as Head Gamemaker, duh, but also B) the clock arena will be the place where the Mockingjay will disappear (until the rebellion will be able to use her for their cause); and that last comment by Plutarch clearly is aimed at the Mockingjay (Katniss) herself

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. - Okay, Katniss must feel hella safe and used to Peeta joining her in her bed, because apparently she didn’t even wake up when he did, like... I’m a fairly heavy sleeper, but I can’t imagine sleeping so deeply that I wouldn’t jerk awake if someone crawled into my bed while I was snoozing

“No nightmare,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. - Telling how the first time Katniss sleeps through the night is after Snow let her know her performance wasn’t enough; she’s must have been so tense and on edge, desperately trying to calm down the districts and convince Snow, that she hadn’t been able to sleep properly, aside from the obvious sleeping issues she’d have from the PTSD (I’m often that way before an important exam - especially if it’s an oral exam; I get tense just thinking about it 😓)

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay though the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” - Interesting how in Katniss’s dream, the mockingjay is Rue - lending further credence to the hypothesis that maybe Rue was originally meant to be the Mockingjay (would make Plutarch’s comment of the mockingjay being “one of a kind” a bit more hypocritical/exaggerated/dramatized, which still fits with his flair for propaganda/showmanship... and ultimately, Katniss as the Mockingjay was unique, but that doesn’t mean that the rebellion couldn’t have made someone else their symbol if they needed to); also, Peeta brushing Katniss’s hair off her forehead is so sweet and intimate 😊

After I got home, we [Madge and I] started spending time together. [...] It was a little awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do. Other girls our age, I’ve heard them talking about boys, or other girls, or clothes. Madge and I aren’t gossipy and clothes bore me to tears. But after a few false starts, I realized she was dying to go into the woods, so I’ve taken her a couple of times and showed her how to shoot. She’s trying to teach me the piano, but mostly I like to listen to her play. - Honestly? I’d love to read a fanfic about Katniss and Madge figuring out their friendship (let me know if there already are some!); it’s cute how they end up including each other in their hobbies 😊 Ah, the classic “I’m/We’re not like other girls”, which often is especially prevalent during your teen years (I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been gulty of this in my past 😅)... Katniss might actually would have benefited from talking with Madge about her boys’ troubles, though... And it’s so funny how Katniss admits that she has no interest in clothes, despite it being her supposed “talent”, while she also admits that she does admire Cinna’s work

... there’s a mob scene. The square’s packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Building burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random. I’ve never seen anything like it - I... I have. At least on tv... In different places, at different times, but... yeah...

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #everlark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #honestly there were so many scenes in these 3 chapter that I wanted to draw... but I barely had the time for these 2 #Catching Fire is just chock-full with interesting/important moments... my book is more post-it notes than pages at this point

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

Adventus Everlark

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Special request: Everlark celebrates Advent by focusing weekly on hope, peace, joy, and love. [submitted by @hutchhitched]

Rating: T (for suggestiveness and a trigger)

Trigger Warning: Mention of physical abuse.

Author’s Note: This story will have both religious (Catholic/Christian) and secular elements. This is part 1 of a 4-part ficlet series. To be continued on A03 at a later date. Thank you. I hope you enjoy!

______________

If Katniss knew anything about her boyfriend, Peeta Mellark, she knew he loved this time of year‒the Christmas season. He loved everything about it; he was practically giddy as a child over it, and he’d been eager to share his traditions with her for some time. Truth be told, Katniss didn’t always understand or share Peeta’s excitement for this time of year, but she loved to see it, and she loved him for it.

Having grown up in a Catholic household, Peeta celebrated Christmas in the traditional Catholic way‒with Mass, prayers, and the lighting of Advent candles. Of course, there was always a Christmas tree, presents, a big dinner, and tons of baking‒Peeta was a baker, and came from a long line of bakers, so there had to be.

The Everdeens, by contrast, weren’t expressly religious; although, they were open to the possibility of a greater power in the universe, and they would partake in the typical holiday activities around this time of year. Katniss had gone along with those activities for years, even tried to replicate them for her beloved sister, Prim, after their father died and their mother suffered from a crushing depression, but she’d never gotten the joy out of it that Prim did.

Or Peeta.

Peeta was a lot like Prim. Maybe that was part of the reason why she loved him so much. The two were kindhearted as they came and fresh as raindrops, both giving, loving, and selfless individuals. Too good for Katniss, in her opinion. They even looked alike, with their light skin, pale blond hair, and blue eyes. Honestly, Prim looked more like Peeta’s sibling than her own‒she with her olive skin tone and gray eyes.

Another thing Prim and Peeta had in common was their faith. Despite growing up in a secular home, Prim held strong beliefs, similar to Peeta’s.

For Katniss, faith was a challenge. It required a great deal of trust and devotion, things which she’d always struggled to give. At least, that’s how she felt about it. But Peeta said otherwise. Peeta always said he saw Katniss for who she truly was, even if she didn’t see it herself. He said he saw a loving and compassionate woman, dedicated to caring for and providing for her entire family.

She’d argued that it was because they were family. It didn’t make her compassionate; it was just the way it was supposed to be. Directly after, she’d felt awful for her statement. Families were definitely not created equal when it came to love and affection, and Peeta was proof positive of this.

When Peeta first told Katniss about some of his childhood experiences, particularly his mother’s physical abuse, she was furious. She couldn’t understand how he could have anything to do with his family, let alone uphold their traditions as he did, and she wanted nothing to do with them, either.

Katniss had put off meeting Peeta’s family for that very reason. Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure how she’d stand being in the same room as his mother. If she even looked at him wrong, Katniss was certain she’d go off the deep end.

But Peeta assured her that his family wasn’t all bad, nor had his home life been. In fact, he’d mentioned a lot of good memories with his brothers and his father. And regarding their holiday traditions, those were the ones he held closest to his heart.

Peeta was so good, almost too good.

If anyone could be a religious prophet come to earth, it would be Peeta. But maybe she put him on a pedestal because she loved him so much.

No, Peeta was not perfect, and sure, he did things to annoy her, like the time he jokingly called her pure. She’d gotten huffy about it and refused to talk to him for about two days. In hindsight, her reaction was a bit extreme, but they’d made up, and then some.

Besides, if anyone was pure, it was Peeta.

Not that he was a saint; there were certainly things he…bent the rules on, such as them sleeping in the same bed before marriage. She was glad for that one, because she hated not sleeping in his arms.

And Peeta felt the same.

One time, after a particularly nasty fight with his mother over what she suspected to be an ‘improper arrangement’ between them, Peeta had told Katniss, “I don’t care if she thinks it’s a sin. Now that I’ve slept with you in my arms, it’s impossible not to. I’m not going back.”

“Sometimes you do,” she’d said cheekily. Considering they weren’t ‘officially’ living together, she did occasionally sleep at her place.

“I know, but those times are unbearable,” he’d responded, leaning in for a soft peck. “If I had to do it all the time,” he whispered against her lips, “what kind of life would that be?”

Katniss concurred.

Of course, the whole sleeping together thing had started innocently, when they were still just best friends. It all began with Katniss’s nightmares…

One night, after an especially bad one, she’d called Peeta, who lived in the same building, hoping he’d talk her to sleep. On a whim, she’d asked him to come over, and she’d asked him to stay. He did.

After that, they shared a bed frequently, and it was all very innocent. But the more they slept together, the harder it became to fight temptation, especially after revealing their true feelings for one another.

It was sort of a mutual confession, but Peeta had been hinting at how he felt for a long time. Then one night, in bed, he’d asked her directly, “You love me. Real or not real?” This was a little game they played.

Without hesitation, she’d answered, “Real.”

This would be Katniss and Peeta’s first Christmas as an honest-to-goodness committed couple, and they were both thrilled. Peeta usually went to his family’s for Christmas, but this year, he’d said that he wanted to spend it with just her.

And they’d decided to celebrate Advent together by focusing on hope, peace, joy, and love.

Week 1: Hope

On the first Sunday of Advent, which fell this year on November 29th, Peeta taught Katniss about the lighting of the Advent candles, and they lit the first candle on the wreath, one of the purple ones. Peeta explained that it was called The Prophecy Candle and symbolized hope and God’s forgiveness of man’s sins. They proceeded to light it every night, together, and Katniss even prayed with Peeta, or at least remained by his side, holding his hand.

Her favorite activity during the Hope week so far was when they spent an entire evening wrapped up in each other on the couch under the blankets, eating junk food and talking about their hopes for the future, their own wishes and those for their loved ones and all humankind.

At first, Katniss had been fearful about speaking some of her own because she didn’t like to think too far ahead. To think ahead was to ultimately be disappointed, in her mind. She was so afraid that if she spoke aloud what she hoped for, as with one of those elusive birthday wishes parents talked about, it would never happen, or be taken away.

But Peeta reassured her.

Something else Peeta had been doing for Advent, which he hadn’t expected her to do was fasting. It wasn’t a complete fast; he was still eating, but he wasn’t eating between meals or having meat on Fridays or any sweets.

First, we fast; then we feast, was what Peeta had told her, referring to the period of penance and preparation leading up to the Christmas celebration.

Peeta was being really good about it, so good that she worried he might waste away to nothing at this rate. And she liked a little bulk on his body. Healthy and strong like an ox, that’s the way she liked him.

Of course, she wasn’t making things easy on him.

Katniss imagined it must be difficult for him to bake up all kinds of treats for her this time of year and not eat any himself, so she’d offered to fast with him. But Peeta refused, saying he enjoyed the act of baking, which she knew, and that he enjoyed serving her. She also knew that. And naturally, he had to bring up her cheese bun and Christmas cookie addictions.

He was right, though.

What could she do but thank him and kiss him, then prop her head between her hands and watch him bake?

As creepy as it might sound, she loved watching him. She enjoyed seeing the muscles of his forearms twitch and pulse when he whipped a mixture. And she enjoyed watching his long, pale golden eyelashes flutter in concentration when she got close while he read over one of his recipes (also when he sketched or painted).

Presently, Katniss was seated on the edge of the counter watching Peeta boil fudge in a saucepan. God, she loved fudge.

Peeta was multitasking today, so he also had a batch of cookie dough laying in wait in a mixing bowl. When he looked over and smiled at her, she smiled sweetly back. And then, partly to freak him out and partly because she wanted it, she scooped a bit of dough onto the mixing spoon and brought it to her lips.

“Katniss!” He tramped over and smacked her hand lightly like a child’s.

“Hey, watch it,” she said, grinning. She’d been asking for it, though. She knew Peeta hated when she licked the raw cookie dough batter. Something about salmonella. Although, she’d done it as a kid and never got violently ill from it.

“But this was one of my traditions.” She cocked her head and licked the very tip of the spoon in a seductive manner, hoping it’d get to him.

It didn’t.

Peeta simply sighed. “Fine, go on and eat it if you want to end up in the hospital.”

Poking her lip out at him, she put the spoon down in its bowl. He smirked over at her, then returned to the oven to check on the fudge. After a few seconds he turned back, spoon in hand. “By the way, trying to entice me while I’m baking isn’t going to work.”

“No?” She was honestly surprised.

“Nope. You should know that when I bake, I go into a zone. And as you’ve seen, I have some self-restraint.” He smirked impishly. “But nice try.”

Katniss pressed her lips together.

“Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m gonna carry the image of you licking the spoon with me the rest of the day, minus the unsafe cookie dough, and later…I might have big plans for you.” He winked at her.

“You mean big, big, big, big plans?” Katniss imitated Miss Trinket, their ‘eccentric’ (to put it mildly) neighbor with the wild, colorful wigs and affected accent.

“Yes, very big plans.”

“Can’t wait.” She bit down on her lip and reached for the spoon again as if her hand was magnetized.

“For all that is holy, please stop eating raw cookie dough!” Peeta exclaimed.

“Okay, okay.” Katniss dropped the spoon back in, the corner of her lip twitching. “But you might need to give me something else to snack on.”

“Will do, sweetheart.”

With that, he walked over purposefully, placed his hands on either side of her face, and captured her lips. Sofly, but insistently his mouth moved across hers, sending a pulsing sensation straight down.

“How’s that?” he asked as they broke apart.

“Hmm…you think a lot of yourself, Mellark.”

He raised a brow then kissed her again, longer and slower.

“Better,” she said, slightly breathless. He began feathering hot, wet kisses down her throat, and Katniss sighed.

With a low growl, Peeta gripped her hips, causing her to let out a small squeal. He tugged her closer to the edge of the counter, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her pelvis into his. She could feel his excitement growing, and just when she was sure he was about to carry her off and take her upstairs, he disentangled himself.

“That’s self-restraint,” said Peeta smugly.

Katniss felt like whipping a ball of deadly cookie dough at his head like a snowball. “Tease.” She groaned, shoving his chest. “Sadist.”

“No, masochist, sweetheart. Trust me, this is a lot harder for me than it is for you.” Katniss chuckled, and he pecked her cheek.

Just then, Katniss’s phone began to ring. She fished it out and took a look. “Oh, that’s Prim calling.” She hopped off the counter and prepared to tap the green button. “Hey, Peeta, what do you think about inviting Prim over for Christmas Eve?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

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jlalafics · 4 years

Text

“Lesson Learned”-Part 1 of ?

Here I go again--this was supposed to be a one-shot, but now it’s multiple parts...

For @sunflowerslyf who requested a fic based on this post about fanfiction and porn.

I have to say that I kept a little fluff in it though...because I need it.

____

Summary: Sometimes Katniss asks too much of Peeta. This time she’s gone too far. College Everlark. Katniss and Peeta POV’s.

“So, will you do it?” I asked him, my heart pounding. “Will you help me?”

Sitting across from me on my couch, my childhood friend Peeta stares at me in shock. He’s holding my throw pillow against his chest…almost defensively.

If we’re being honest, Peeta has every reason to be wary of me. There wasn’t a day when we were children that I wasn’t coming up with some sort of idea that usually got him hurt or in trouble.

“What idiot suggested that you do this?” he asks immediately.

I look towards the closed bedroom door, where my roommate is sleeping off her hangover, before responding, “Johanna.”

“Figures,” he mutters. “I don’t think so, Katniss.” Peeta smiles gently; it’s the same smile he gives me right before he’s about the lay some truth on me—truth I usually don’t want to hear. “I mean, you’re pretty, but I don’t see you like that.”

My jaw drops at his words. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not sexually attracted to you,” he replies calmly.

It’s one step away from patting my head and calling me a ‘good girl’—and my indignation rises.

“What? My breasts aren’t big enough?” I reach over and take his hand, pressing his palm into it. “This does nothing for you?”

“I mean, of course if there’s a tit in your hand, your body is going to react.” Peeta meets my eyes, hand still on my chest. “Why is this so important to you?”

I take a deep breath. “There’s this guy.”

“And here we go…” He stands down under my glare. “Okay, so the guy?”

“He’s beautiful,” I sigh, my thoughts going to dirty blond hair and steel blue eyes. “His name is Cato and I think I’d like him…to be my first.”

My friend’s eyes soften at my declaration. “Are you sure?”

I nod eagerly. “Yes. What do you think?”

Peeta puts the pillow down, scooting over to me, before holding out his arms. “Get in here.”

Easily, I fall into them, my head going to his chest and my arms going around his lean waist.

“Please, Peeta.”

“I don’t think that he should be your first,” he tells me bluntly. “The first time usually sucks; it’s supposed to be painful and bloody for women…”

Sitting up, I contemplate his words. I know extraordinarily little when it comes to sex; my mom left us when I was ten and Dad tried his hardest, but there are some things that you need a woman for.

That’s when Peeta’s mother stepped in. She was the one who helped me when I got my period, needed my first bra, and even when I caught Peeta’s older brother tongue deep inside some girl’s mouth and I had questions.

Rye still hasn’t forgiven me for busting him out.

However, I neglected to ask her about sex.

On the other hand, asking Melsa about being penetrated is significantly different than asking her tampons versus pads.

I think I can understand why my roommate suggested I talk to Peeta. He’s known me my whole life and is never one to hold back. Neither have I and we can be painfully honest with one another. I’m surprised we’re still friends after everything we’ve shared between each other—both awkward and non-awkward.

Then it comes to me and I can feel my mouth widen into a grin.

“You have a bad idea,” Peeta says immediately. “I can already see it brewing inside that thick skull of yours.”

“You do it,” I say.

“Do what?” My friend looks me over, starting down from my face to the breasts he had been reluctantly fondling, and then down to the leggings—or specifically the V between my thighs. His eyes immediately widen in realization. “No.”

“You said it would be bad,” I argue. “I rather it be bad with someone who’s at least going to tell me honestly how I can make it better the next time around. Also, I won’t cry if it hurts around you.”

“Why is that?” he asked.

“Because you make me brave,” I tell him. “Every scary moment in my life, you’ve held my hand. When my mom left, you were there. When Prim got sick and ended up having an appendectomy, you were there. Even when I contemplated not going to Panem University, you held my hand as we got on the train to leave.”

“More like forced you to leave.” Peeta eyes me for a moment. “You don’t have to have sex with Cato to make him like you. If he’s a good guy, then he’ll respect your need to wait.”

“It’s not that.” I feel my mouth start to tremble. “I’ve always felt like I was little behind since Mom left. I’m just tired of not knowing anything.”

Peeta sighs. “Okay.”

“You will?” I’m practically bouncing in my seat and Peeta smiles handsomely as he watches me. Launching myself into his arms, I kiss his cheek. “You’re awesome, you know that right?”

“Seriously Katniss, you have no idea of the effect you have on me.”

++++++

Friday night

What am I doing?

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, seeing my usual mussed blond hair and blue eyes—except there’s panic in them.

There’s a buzz on my phone and I find a message from Katniss: I’m ready when you are.

It’s followed by a winky face emoji.

Putting my phone in my back pocket, I step out of the bathroom and am greeted by my roommates, Gale and Finnick, eyes on the television and controllers in their hands. Their stares momentarily catch mine as I head towards the door.

“I’ll see you guys on Sunday night,” I tell them.

“Did you tell us where you were going?” Gale asks, his eyes going back to the screen.

“Home,” I reply quickly.

If home is my friend’s vagina.

“Cool,” Finnick adds distractedly as his player has just been critically hit. “Lock the door on your way out.”

Nodding, I head down the hallway and open the front door just as Gale wins. Finnick is yelling bloody murder as I close it behind me.

Katniss’ apartment is just a few blocks away, so I opt to walk, contemplating why I agreed to do this for her. Besides the fact that I don’t want her first time to be with some douchebag—and Cato is one, based on a few people I know that used to hang with him—I want it to be something she’ll remember.

Because here’s the truth; I’ve always loved her.

As a friend and a confidant at first then sometime around high school, she became the source of many morning erections and moony-eyed stares. I was confused because for a long time I never thought of her as a girl, but as Katniss, my neighbor and friend. It was really my oldest brother Bran who opened that can of worms, remarking on how well she had grown up since the last time he saw her.

It was like a switch had turned on.

Suddenly, I couldn’t stop staring at her.

Was her hair always that shiny? Did her eyes always look so seductively smoky?

Senior year was torture for me, especially watching her go to prom with Marvel—an idiot and a douche (why does she always choose douches?), in my opinion. Though the night did end with her coming over to my house to eat cake before falling asleep during a Harry Potter marathon instead of the usual after party.

Suddenly, I’m in front of her apartment building.

Am I really going to take her virginity?

Then, there’s the other question that looms in my head: am I really going to let her take mine?

For as much bravado as I claim to have, I have no idea what I’m doing.

And, I’m a liar.

Because, despite what I told her, I am sexually attracted to Katniss, I’m attracted to her in every which way.

Taking the elevator up to her floor, I walk to her door and knock.

Katniss answers quickly, wearing nothing but a knee-length black robe.

Hot damn.

She gives me a welcoming smile, widening the door for me.

“Come in.”

#Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #in which Everlark gets brutally honest about each others sex techniques

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Tacenda - Chapter Fifteen (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 2.4k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION, torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Before both of your parents had died, back in District Four, your family would have been considered ‘middle-class’ to a very thin extent. You guys weren’t at the bottom of the food chain by any means, and neither were you guys on top, but you were afloat enough to be considered middle.

You guys owned a nice two-story house with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The house came with a very small yard that had that tree that you used to climb. You guys were always one of the first to receive electricity when it would have to be turned on, etc.

You guys never had to eat the food from the square. It’s not a bad thing to eat the food that’s provided there, it’s actually very helpful if you’re trying to go extremely cheap on some days. But eating food from the black market is taking a gamble, because there’s no telling what’s in the soup, or what had been mashed up. And it’s not like the people at the tables would tell you either.

It’s their ‘secret recipe’ and they didn’t want you to go around and tell everyone in the vicinity for a number of reasons. The food could have been made up of something that would be seen as ‘unfavorable’. If you go and tell everyone what’s in it, then that person running the table could lose the business entirely.

After your parents had died, you guys obviously weren’t able to afford super nice things anymore. You guys would be so caught up in trying to keep the essentials stocked, that Reed and Mox would run out of the money. So, with the very bare scraps that you would be able to get, you would head right to the square for those cheap meals.

They weren’t enjoyable sometimes, and you would voice that to the people you would buy from. But other times, they would end up making something particularly enjoyable, and you would let them know that too. You basically became their test monkey for new foods, and you told them how it was every single time.

Eventually, Reed and Mox had gotten ahead of their spending habits, which means that you guys wouldn’t have to eat from the market anymore, but you definitely had a lasting impact. Even though you didn’t have to, you would eat there sometimes and let them know. There was a hell of an increase in quality, people noticed it almost immediately.

They might have been making soups from bones and grass and dandelions from the fields, but it was good fucking soup either way. You absolutely loved their creativity, and you know for a fact that both you, and them had gotten a kick from being a critic and getting critiqued like that.

Even after winning the games, you had still gone to eat their food sometimes. It wasn’t because you wanted to humble yourself or some dumb shit like that. You would genuinely go to eat their food, because there wasn’t anything else to do. You didn’t want to be drowning in riches, and eating from the top quality bakers and the best butchers in the district.

You wanted some of their old fashioned soup, and you went there constantly. It was weird, being stared at like how you were. Watching the people that would have previously disregarded you, suddenly notice you like that. It was watching the sea part when you would walk inside of the building. Sometimes you even saw fear, since they were afraid you’d buy out the whole goddamn building with one months worth of savings.

Then they would notice that you would stop in front of the fucking stall, with the mashed up potatoes and meat. With vegetables that should be a crime to sell, with dandelion, grass and bones soup. And you would buy enough for one, and then sit around on the nearest stool just talking to the owners of the place, asking if they had come up with anything new.

Fuck, they even named a goddamn soup after you. They named one of your favorite creations that they had ever made, after you. Not because you had won the games, or you were a consistent customer, it’s because they genuinely enjoyed you. They were absolutely blown away by the fact that the fifteen year old with more money than she knew what to do with, would come by and eat there anyway.

You would take hours of your day just to sit there and talk, because it was overwhelming in the newly furnished victor house. Every now and then you’d pitch in and pay for someone if you were feeling particularly generous, because you had money to burn.

You miss it. You miss every aspect of that god awful building. You hated the smell of rotting fish before, but now it’s the only thing you can think about. The fact that it was almost always packed to the limit with people just trying to haggle and get their usual stuff but at a cheaper price.

You don’t know what you would trade to go back now. To go back and spend just a few more hours, sitting around in there and watching people go about their days. You would probably go around and buy things for people, because all the money in your account would go to waste when you die.

What you’re saying is, is that the food from the square is astronomically better than the shit that they feed the people in District Thirteen. Forget the ‘secret recipes’ that the old ladies used to protect with their lives, this shit is on a whole new level of a secret recipe. It’s downright inhumane to feed this to anyone.

“You’re picking at your food.” Finnick points out.

“Thanks, I didn’t know.” you give him a look, “You want it?”

“You know you need to eat, (Y/n).” he tells you, “It’s not going to get any better tomorrow, so stop messing with it before it gets cold.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, dad.”

Finnick’s face scrunches up, almost like he’s disgusted with it. And then, he tilts his head, making a whole new face. Like he doesn’t mind it after all.

“Oh great, did I just find a new kink of yours?” you laugh slightly, ignoring the glances you get from the people around you.

He holds up his finger, placing his fork back onto the tray. Finnick doesn’t know what to think of this whole thing, “Hold on, I’m trying to imagine–”

You punch his arm, shaking your head at him as you go back to your food. Suddenly, you’re interested in it again! Who knew that it would be a valid form of escape?

Finnick is laughing, suddenly enjoying this. He goes back to eating too.

The sound of the Capitol’s anthem makes your head shoot up and the fork freeze in your hands. Your eyes search the room, looking for the source, and you end up finding it pretty quickly, the television sets that are on the wall. The logo for the Capitol comes in and it says ‘Capitol TV’ beneath it.

“Dinner and a show?” Finnick asks.

“I have a feeling this isn’t common.” you say, placing down your fork entirely, pushing the food tray back as you prop your head up against the table, “But I will enjoy it either way.”

Caesar fades in, and you do a little laugh, “Hello, good evening, and a big welcome to all of Panem. I’m Caesar Flickerman, and wherever you are, whatever it is you’re doing, if you’re working, put down your work. If you’re having dinner, stop having dinner. Because you are going to want to witness this tonight.”

You fake a yawn, and Finnick does it right back.

“There has been rapid speculation about what really happened in the Quarter Quell. And here, to shed a little light on the subject for us, is a very special guest. Please welcome, mister Peeta Mellark.” Caesar says.

Your mouth drops open slightly, and you can feel all the fun run out of your body at once. Suddenly, you’re no longer smiling, and you’re staring at the tv screen as if you’ve received the news that your mom just died again. You take in a shaky breath, and that’s when Finnick wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his body.

Peeta may not be your fiance, but he’s somewhat directly related to your siblings. Because they’re both in the same place right now. Lucky for you, Peeta looks healthy, like they haven’t touched a hair on his head. He’s wearing a white suit, and almost like he hasn’t been treated badly at all.

It raises hope, but along with hope, comes disappointment.

Caesar continues, “Peeta, a lot of people feel as though they are in the dark.”

You feel so horribly bad for Katniss right now.

“Yeah, I know how they feel.” Peeta says, Caesar laughs a little bit.

“Now, so set the stage for us. Talk us through, what really happened on that final, and controversial night.”

“Well first off, you have to–you have to understand that when you’re in the games, you only get one wish. It’s very costly.” Peeta says, he sounds calm.

“It costs your life.” Caesar says.

“I think it costs more than your life.” Peeta disagrees.

“How do you mean? What’s more than your life?”

Your laugh is hollow, “It costs other people’s lives. It costs your dignity and you’re sacrificing your entire personality.”

Finnick nods, “Because there’s no way you come out of the arena the same, no matter what.”

“Well, I mean to–to murder innocent people. That costs everything that you are.” Peeta says, and briefly raises his hand, “So you hold on to that one wish. That night, my wish was; to save Katniss. I should have just run off with her earlier in the day like she wanted.”

You look at Finnick, trying to recall any conversation like that between them. Like overhearing or something, but you come up with nothing. But it seems like Finnick has an answer for it, “Before we had gone to the tree, when they were sitting alone.”

And it clicks, because that would have been the perfect time to say it. Since it was the first time they had truly been alone like that in a while.

“But you didn’t!” Caesar says, “Why? Were you caught up in Beetee’s plan?”

“No, I was caught up trying to play allies. And then they seperated us and–” he pauses, “That’s when I lost her.”

“It’s so fucking hard not to be mad at him right now.” you cross your arms.

Finnick shrugs, “I mean, they could have been telling him to say this.”

“It’s raw emotion.” you lean forward a bit, out of Finnick’s arm to get a closer look, “He’s perfectly healthy, there’s no reason for him to lie. Playing allies my fucking asshole, what a joke.”

“And then the lightning hit and uh–the whole forcefield around the arena just blew out.” Peeta finishes.

“Yes, but Peeta, Katniss is the one that blew it out.”

“No–”

Caesar cuts him off, “You saw the footage.”

“No–she didn’t know what she was doing. Neither of us, knew there was a bigger plan going on, we had no idea.”

“You had no idea?” Caesar asks.

“No.”

“Alright, well Peeta, there are many who find this suspicious, to say the least. It seems as though she was part of a rebel plan.” Caesar proposes, and you watch as he does the basic, classic hand motions of ‘just saying’.

“What, do you think it was part of her plan to almost be killed by Johanna and (Y/n)?” Peeta looks tired of it, “Or to be paralyzed by lightning? No, we were not part of any rebel plan, we had no idea what was going on.”

“Alright.” Caesar does the motion again, “I believe you, Peeta Mellark. Thank you. Now, I was going to ask you to speak about the unrest but I think you might be too upset.”

“They’re patronizing him.” you laugh, “God, they’re treating him like a child.”

“No, no I can.”

“Are you sure?” Caesar asks.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Peeta turns towards the camera, actually staring into it now, “I want everyone who’s watching, to stop, and think about what a civil war could mean. We almost went extinct once before, and now our numbers are even fewer. Is this really what we want to do?”

The people around you aren’t so happy at this, and they’re looking at each other, almost appalled that he’s saying this.

“Now this could be rehearsed.” you tell Finnick, tilting your head.

“Kill ourselves off? Killing is not the answer. Everyone needs to lay down their weapons immediately.” That sentence doesn’t go over well with the people around you. You can’t hear the next couple of words because of how loud the shouting has gotten.

“Peeta,” Caesar leans forward, “Are you calling for a ceasefire?”

��Yeah, I am.” It gets louder, Finnick is beginning to slide off of the table’s seats, and you have a pretty good idea why, “I want everyone to stop, let’s end this violence. This is not the path–”

You’re out of your seat soon after, Finnick grabs your hand, and he begins to pull you away and out of the room. You watch as the room basically gets rowdier and angrier from what he’s saying.

Finnick wants to leave because he’s worried about your guys’ safety. It’s a safety hazard being around them, since you two had associated with him, and even halfway considered him a friend. It was a precaution, and almost a matter of time before they turned on you guys next.

“I don’t know about you.” you begin, “But I could really go for some peace and quiet right now.”

He looks at you, “Peace and quiet how?”

You smile a little bit, “A good fuckin’ nap.”

Finnick laughs, taking your hand and beginning to lead the way to your guys’ dorm–for a lack of a better word, “Sounds good to me.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair tacenda #tacenda

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edgarbright · 4 years

Text

[ Zero's route | Part 24 spoilers ]

Oh my god, fam, oh my goodness

Don't expect this to be coherent but do expect it to be long because I'm bursting with emotions right now

Spoiler mentions from Sirius and Edgar’s routes

THIS IS EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED BUT NEVER EVEN EXPECTED TO HAVE. I didn’t know this was something I could even ASK for.

My five favorite guys teaming up for the battle at the top of the Magic Tower. ALL FIVE OF THEM, NO MORE, NO LESS!

I literally decorated my room like this months ago to make this image but never had reason to use it-- until now!

Before I jump into part 24, let's go back a few parts for a second! All the events building up to this battle were marvelous.

The themes for this route are all about saving, rescuing, helping, belonging, loving.

And the bonds of trust.

Lancelot saves Alice from the Magic Tower, from himself, by directing Edgar to change assignment orders and send Zero to "help" him. Lancelot trusts Zero so much that he trusted Zero to betray him. He trusted Zero to do the right thing.

MY HEART IS BURSTING WITH LOVE FOR MY KING! T_T

Zero saves Alice from Lancelot at the Magic Tower's front door. He promised to protect her. He wanted to protect her. So he threw away everything to do so.

Harr saves Alice from the forest. Harr is "repenting for his sins" in regards to Zero and wouldn't have made a move if Zero hadn't agreed to it. But Zero realized he had to trust him. More so, Zero may have vaguely remembered him (per His POV) and knew he could trust him.

Harr and Alice go to save Zero from the Magic Tower. Alice already trusts Harr. Fun fact: Alice is ALWAYS quick to trust Harr in every route. (Then again, she’s quick to trust just about anyone so lol) I loved that we got a moment at Harr’s house and finally met Loki! It was a sweet little family moment. My belief has always been that Zero is also part of Harr’s “family” too and I was not disappointed! Zero carrying on Harr’s lollipop kindness. My heart. T_T

I would love it if Edgar got his candy addiction from Zero giving him candy for the first time and then it just got out of control (lol). No evidence yet but the route isn’t over...!

The truth about Zero reveal: I had already surmised as much because too many people in this fandom hint at spoilers like it’s their job but it still hurt to read about. The flashbacks to Zero as a child in the Tower are honestly painful. Also knowing that Harr would have been about 15 during those flashbacks, we now have one child trying to stay kind and show kindness to another child in a cruel environment and T_T Harr just wanted to study magic to make the world a better place, and instead he got wrangled into a world of child abuse and torture... And he’s still seeking to repent after twelve years for not saving Zero back then...

Edgar saves Alice from her prison cell. Good lordy God bless. Before that we saw him basically running Red Army HQ with Lancelot gone and Jonah at the front. Beautiful. Edgar is nothing BUT trustworthy in Zero's entire route. When Zero isn't around to protect Alice, such as at the party, he trusts Edgar to do it and Edgar does it spectacularly because Edgar is, in fact, the best.

As Dean so wonderfully stated earlier: Edgar is great at taking care of other people.

AND THAT’S THE TEA! Don’t let anyone tell you Edgar is anything but loving!

Edgar realizes Alice wants to come along with him to save Zero. Edgar trusts Alice to know what is best for her. He trusts Alice cares for Zero as much as Edgar cares for Zero, so they'll work together. BEAUTIFUL. I love my man acknowledging Alice’s strength!

Lancelot causing the explosion was somewhat expected. He’d vanished earlier and I KNEW he had to be up to something, somewhere.

And that moment when he betrayed Amon!? HOT DAMN I LOVE MY KING, Y’ALL!! A shame his attack didn’t work but I am ALL about that rescue-Lancelot lifestyle! Harr is too as we’ll see shortly lmao

Edgar saves Lancelot by evening the odds. THE TRUST BETWEEN THEM COMES FULL CIRCLE. I'm STILL buzzing over that goddamn moment chapters earlier when Edgar comes upon Lancelot kidnapping Alice from Red Army HQ. I honestly couldn't tell if Edgar would have followed commands or fight back, but you could tell he was wrestling with it. If Lancelot had forced him to follow orders, that would have been the ultimate betrayal considering Edgar is already pact-bound to be an obedient dog. Lancelot instead has Alice locked away so he can talk to Edgar 1:1. Lancelot might not have told him the whole truth but Edgar is intelligent enough to put the pieces together himself. He often does so in other routes without prompting.

Edgar and Alice save Zero together. EDGAR’S PLATONIC LOVE IS GIVEN EQUAL FOOTING AS ALICE’S ROMANTIC LOVE!! That moment when Zero was still holding out against Alice's pleading and Edgar just round-house kicks him to the ground and puts a sword to his neck and just DEMANDS Zero to think about who he is, what he wants, why he wields his sword!

HOT DAMN YOU TELL HIM, EDGAR! I LOVE EDGAR SO FREAKING MUCH!

My heart hurts so much for Zero, who was robbed, even temporarily, of all that love by the Magic Tower T_T They tossed him away, he found a place to belong, and they tore that from him. The absolute cruelty.

And then surprise! Loki saves Harr from imprisonment! Harr is no damsel in distress so I was wondering if our current team was going to have to rescue him later, or if he was going to rescue himself. But he absolutely deserved to be at the final fight AND I WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED! The second that ??? for the speaker showed up I was just !!!!!

Basically Edgar and then Harr’s appearances got me like:

So now we have a Lancelot, Edgar, Alice, Harr, and Loki team-up vs. Amon and Dalim! Operation Stop Amon and Save Zero is in full effect!

And holy shi-- The moment when Amon starts using Zero's tattoo to hurt him was brutal. It was bad enough when Dalim did it in front of Zero’s soldiers but here they are at it again in front of all the people who care about Zero the most.

Personally, I think it's wild that some people claim Ikevamp is darker than Ikerev. The Ikevamp cast talk about dark plots but the Ikerev cast deal directly with war, murder, betrayal, coercion, kidnapping, child abuse, child neglect, torture, PTSD, depression, child abandonment, and more. It just wraps them up in a prettier, brighter package.

But moving on!

Alice saves Zero from Amon. I love all the flashbacks. I love Alice's promise to Zero. I love how she guards his neck to keep him from hurting himself and how she'll protect him. How they’ll protect each other. It hurt so bad but felt so good.

(Mockingjay Part 2 was on TV last night so I already got a heavy dose of Peeta and Katniss angst and how they always protect each other -- “It’s what we do” -- so I was primed for the feels between Zero and Alice here.)

At some point Alice also shows sympathy for Dalim and that struck a cord with me as well. I was actually wondering what the point of Dalim has been, as a potential suitor, since he's just been acting like a second-rate Amon this whole time, being just as villainous and coercing Lancelot the same as Amon. But seeing Amon abusing Dalim, too, and having Dalim continue to fight even when he was in such bad shape just gives me a throw-back to Edgar, who continues to follow his uncle's orders even at the cost of hurting himself. Although that Dalim used Zero's tattoo to hurt him is a big F-NO so he's got lots of redeeming to do lol

Lancelot and Harr (LANCELOT AND HARR, TOGETHER, ALLIES, FRIENDS!!) save Edgar, Alice, and Loki from the collapsing building. Lancelot and Harr aren’t antagonists in this route! HARR ONLY HAS TO SAY LANCELOT’S NAME AND LANCELOT KNOWS WHAT HE MEANS AND WHAT THEY NEED TO DO!

Harr: Lancelot!

Lancelot: Yeah!

Lancelot and Harr used their magic to shield us from the falling debris.

THAT'S IT THAT'S ALL THE CONVERSATION THEY NEED AND THEY ARE IMMEDIATELY IN UNISON. My heart is bursting with love and happiness from such a small moment. I hope we get some follow-up after this omg

(As a salty aside, this is leagues different to when Harr shows up in Sirius's route and Sirius is just like, "What are you doing here???" and then Sirius gives Loki the third-degree with all that mistrust.)

BUT MOVING ON!

That final CG with Zero makes my heart bleed. He looks so sad and so tired, but he’s alive.

Zero: I'm home.

Alice: Welcome home!

I'M NOT CRYING YOU'RE CRYING!!!

I love Zero so much. A lot. In abundance. The love and relief is so palpable at this moment. Alice and Zero have such a beautiful love story.

Part 24 took me over a half hour to read which is twice as long as usual and every second of it was a PLEASURE. Just a few days left until I’m done with the whole route and it’s honestly shaping up to be one of the best in any otome. It’s adapted a lot of elements from other routes and made them it’s own to great effect. Just a fantastic, well-rounded story with a beautifully heart-warming romance. Bless bless bless!!

#my ikerev #ikerev zero #zero's route #zero route spoilers #ikerev spoilers #when i say rambling i mean rambling

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littleevilisa · 5 years

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Dr. Hot Buns outtake #2 - The Secret

I have nothing to say for myself.

This outtake is not much Everlark focused, there’ no actual Peeta in it, but it introduces some things that will be important in the next chapter, and the following ones. I don’t know when those will be posted, though.

Anyway, watch out for some light swearing and allusion to sex. But nothing explicit.

This is not betaed, so all mistakes are mine.

I'm about to sit on the couch, a well deserved glass of red wine in hand, wearing only my underwear and a shirt Peeta forgot here a couple of month ago, when there's a knock at my front door.

I stop halfway through the living room, trying to figure out who could it be, especially at this time in the evening.

The only person that comes to my mind is Peeta. The other people that would come visit me live in other states, or at least would call me before showing up.

It's strange, though. Peeta hasn't come to my place in a while. Lately, unless we spend the night at his apartment, we don't see each other that much outside of work. Since we returned from Panem, he's been really busy helping with Dr. Cresta's latest research while she's still on maternity leave, and he's been pulling many all nighters this past month. When he's not in the lab or the O.R., he's too tired to do much else than have a quiet meal, cuddle a little, and sleep. Tonight he was supposed to be at the hospital, too. Oh well, perhaps he changed idea and decided to come and see me.

A sly smile spreads over my face, already anticipating the good sex – 'cause, you know, he kinda owns me that by now – I'm about to get, or at least the good food Peeta could be bringing.

At the door, just to be extra sure, I take a look through the peephole, and all my enthusiasm dies instantly.

I leave my glass on the coffee table, and run to my bedroom to get some pants on. Then I begrudgingly go open the door.

“What took you so long, Everdeen?”

“How the fuck do you know where I live?” I ask back.

Johanna Mason blatantly ignores me, pushes me aside, and enters.

I don't have the mental strength to protest, so I just sigh and close the door.

“So?” I ask again, crossing my arms. “What are you doing here?”

Johanna takes off her coat and sits on the couch, ogling the glass of wine on the coffee table as if pondering if she could have it, then shrugs. “I don't know” she says. “Madge texted me your address and told me to get here ASAP. I just finished my shift. Hasn't she told you anything?”

I fish my cellphone out of the bag I left next to the front door when I got home from work and look for any message from Madge. Not a thing.

“She must've forgotten” Johanna infers as I show her my phone.

This is definitely not what I wanted to do tonight. After a very tiring day at the hospital, I just wanted to shower and relax. Now, apparently, I will have to host a girl night, which I'm very much opposed to. I mean, Madge is a good friend of mine, and I tolerate Johanna alright. But I really don't wanna listen to any drama, that's not my thing.

I walk to the coffee table and grab the glass, halving its content in a long gulp. I hope it will help ease the headache that I'm sure is about to come.

All the while, Johanna has been looking at me, her head tilted to the side and a puzzled expression on her face. She points her finger at me. “Is that a man shirt you're wearing?”

I panic. I don't know why I do, but I do.

Why would anyone ask such a question? Why is she? Is she suspecting something? Has she figured out anything? I mean, it's a simple, light blue shirt, exactly like many others. But Peeta always wears such nice clothes, who knows, maybe she's seen him wearing it before?

Ok. Ok. Katniss, calm down. No need for spiraling. It's just a simple question, give her an excuse.

I finish the wine to buy myself more time to come up with something.

“It's my father's” I lie. “I bought it for him, but it's the wrong size. I lost the receipt and couldn't change it, so I'm using it”.

For some reason, I don't think Johanna is convinced.

I don't have to think of something else, thankfully. There's another knock at the front door.

Madge marches inside as soon as I open the door. It's almost like no one needs permission to come inside my place.

Madge immediately starts walking back and forth in the living room. “Thanks for coming here” she says.

“I live here”.

She ignores me. “I know that maybe you had better things to do tonight, but this is really important and I need to tell someone and you guys are the only people that can understand what's going on”.

“Yeah... Why does this thing nave to be at my place?” I ask.

“Because Johanna was working and I was home. Your place is in the middle” she says matter-of-factly. Then she stops walking and looks at me with a confused expression. “Is that a man shirt?”

I almost throw my hands in the air. What is this sudden interest in what I'm wearing?

“She says it's her father's” Johanna says. I detect a note of skepticism in her voice.

Madge doesn't look that much interested in it anymore, and dismisses the whole shirt thing with a flick of her hand.

“Whatever. Never mind. The thing I have to tell you...” Madge stars pulling at her woolen scarf and hat, as if only now realizing that she's still wearing them. She gets frustrated when the scarf almost strangles her. She leaves it on place, resorting to just unzip her windbreaker. “I don't know how it happened. I mean, I know how it happened. I don't know how it happened”.

“Princess!” Johanna interrupts her. “Cut the rambling. Spit it out”.

Madge sighs. “I...” She throws her head back and grunts. “I...” She looks at the floor, her hands on her hips. After some more stalling, she spits it out. “I'm pregnant”.

I fall sitting on the couch armrest, the glass almost slips out of my grasp.

“Shit!” Johanna lets out after a moment of silence.

Madge starts whining, a sound I've never heard from her before.

“Does Thresh know?” Johanna asks her.

Madge decided to give Thresh Montgomery a chance around Christmas time, after months of him obviously pining after her and blatantly flirting with her. It was so clear, even I realized it before Madge. And I usually don't register this kind of things.

“He doesn't. But...” Madge lowers her voice in a barely audible whisper. “He's not the father”.

“What?” Johanna sounds surprised. I guess she never expected the very silent and collected Madge Undersee to see more than one man at a time. Hell, I certainly didn't.

“We didn't ever have sex, yet” Madge confesses.

“Why not?” I think Johanna is confused by the fact she wouldn't 'tap that fine ass', as she once so elegantly put it referring to Thresh.

“I have a three dates policy, and we only went on two” Madge sighs. “At this point, I doubt there will ever be a third”.

“Then, who's it?” I ask. I don't know if I want to know it, though.

“You promise not to judge me?” Madge bites her bottom lip. She's never looked this conflicted before.

Johanna and I share a look. She nods for the both of us.

Madge scrunches up her face, as if in shame. “Seneca Crane”.

“What!?” I shout.

“Ew!” Johanna must feel as disgusted as me at the mere thought of the sleazy, bearded pervert putting his hands on our friend.

“You guys promised you wouldn't judge me!” Madge shouts back.

“But... But...” Johanna stammers. “Ew! How on earth did that happen?”

“I don't know! It was right after Thanksgiving. I was still pretty mad because of the Senator – you know how irritating the Senator can be, I told you. And Crane was... I don't know... charming, I guess. I just wanted to do something that would piss my father off. So I did him”.

Madge comes and sits between Johanna and me.

“What do you want to do?” I ask her.

“I don't know” she says. “I don't think I want to... get rid of... I always wanted children. I just never expected it to happen this way. Especially not with Crane! But...” she puts her head in her hands and starts silently weeping. “I don't know”.

I instinctively put my arm around her shoulders as Johanna embrace her by the waist.

We stay like this for who knows how long, shushing Madge and cradling her between us, trying to give her all the strength we can muster.

Suddenly, Johanna sniggers. She puts her head on Madge's shoulder. “Wanna know something nice?” she asks her. “This will definitely piss the Senator off”.

Madge snorts and wipes away some tears with her windbreaker sleeves. Finally, some of the concern seems to be lifted from Madge's face, leaving its place to a little, pretty smile.

Johanna sits back on the couch and sighs. “I guess that, since you just shared with us such an important news, perhaps I should tell you guys something, too. A secret for a secret, as they say.” She plays with the hem of her skirt and look at us from under her thick lashes.

“You're pregnant, too?” I blurt out. Please, one pregnant friend at a time is more than I can handle.

“What? No! Babies are not for me, thank you”. She look at Madge. “No offense”.

“None taken”.

“I'm not supposed to tell anyone. I shouldn't even know this” Johanna continues. “Finnick told me because, of course, he cannot keep his big mouth shut. The Chief and other doctors are working to buy the hospital, to bypass the board”.

What the hell?! “How?” I ask.

“Snow wants to eliminate the intern program. He's of the opinion that PMH is getting a bad reputation for some of the interns we got during the years. We are losing money somehow, and since he is the one investing the biggest amount on us, he'd like to see it spent for a better purpose. Like that super dope machine you guys from General were craving for lately”.

I'm speechless. Madge, Peeta and I just became fellows, but if Snow has it his way who knows if we will still have our jobs. I don't understand why he would close the intern program. Thanks to it, we had the chance to learn from some of the best surgeons of the country. I would never take away from anyone the possibility to be in the same O.R. as Dr. Abernathy, to see him do his magic on a heart.

“Can he do that?” Madge asks as she cleans her runny nose on the back of her hand. Gross.

Johanna shrugs. “He can, unfortunately. As the major investor, he's also the member of the board with the most importance. He can decide how his money get spent, and he can very easily convince the other board members to do whatever he pleases. You know the man, he's capable of far worst”.

She's right. I still remember Brutus Willis, the previous Chief of Trauma. During our second year as interns, he dared speak up against the board's decision – or, should I say, Snow's decision – to cut the funds for PMH Trauma Center. Dr. Odair told Johanna, who obviously told us, that since then Dr. Willis still hasn't found a job in the States. He had to go back to the army, to a war zone in the Middle East. We don't know which one. Apparently, Dr. Odair's net of information isn't vast enough.

“Couldn't we get rid of Snow without buying out the hospital?” Madge asks.

“Not really” Johanna says. “If he takes his money away, there's no way to know which investors will stay, and which will follow him. That's why the Chief and Abernathy were trying to persuade Alma Coin to take Snow's place as major investor. It would help reassuring the other investors the hospital won't cost them more than expected”.

I don't personally know Alma Coin. I do know she's an up-and-coming entrepreneur with interests in many fields, from healthcare to military defense, though. I don't particularly like her, to be completely honest. But if she can somehow help keep up the intern program, I will learn to respect her.

“It's not over, yet” Johanna says as she deciphers the relief on our faces. Of fucking course. “She agreed almost immediately. Because of that, neither the Chief or Abernathy trusted her completely, it felt too easy, and they we're right not to. Turns out she's of the same mind as Snow. Plus, she wants to cut the hospital's staff by 25 per cent. Which means that all new fellows and residents will be fired, as well as nurses, security guards, janitors... you name it.”

“That bitch!” Madge has shifted from confused and sad to outright furious.

“No need to bring out the big words, Princess”. Johanna pats her on the back with a smirk. “That's where the buying out part comes into play. Abernathy has Miss Trinket working on a deal with the Taylor Heart Center. I've heard that he knows Edna Taylor from back in the days. If the Taylors agree, they will take both Snow's and Coin's places as investors, but will leave all executive decisions to the newly formed board. Which will consist in only doctors from PMH.”

Oh, my God. This is huge! Finally the hospital will be able to direct money where it's needed, and won't always have to consider the profit over the adequate treatment of our patients, let alone of the whole staff. Not to mentions that, maybe, I would be able to meet the Taylors!

The name Taylor is quite famous in the world of Cardiothoracic surgery. In the early '80s, after getting himself a huge fame of one of the greatest, most innovative mind in the field, Aaron Taylor founded the first Taylor Heart Center here, in D.C. Soon, two more followed, one in New York City and one in Miami. Today, the Taylor Heart Centers are among the most renowned private clinics of the country. They don't need investors to stay afloat. They are their own investor.

Johanna continues. “It's not completely certain, yet. First, the Taylors want more doctors on board with the investment. They can't buy the hospital all by themselves. So far, aside from the Chief and Abernathy, they got Lyme, Paylor, and Aurelius. And Finnick and Annie, of course”.

Madge curses between her teeth. “If only I had my own money instead of my father's, I would have helped, too” she says.

Johanna and I both nod in agreement.

“I heard Peeta was thinking of joining the rebel doctors”.

This last piece of information from Johanna catches me unprepared. How is he supposed to be of any help in this situation? Yeah, he has a pretty great apartment in the city, and once he confessed to me that he didn't have a student loan to pay back, but I don't think he has that much more money. I mean, why would he even have all that money in the first place? “With which money?” I ask Johanna.

She shrugs.

We all fall silent for a while, most likely all contemplating the big news that were reveled tonight.

The rumors circulating around the hospital of a possible mutiny turned out to be true, and even more juicy than we could possibly think. The Taylors! Buying PMH! And Madge is pregnant with Seneca Crane's baby.

As this particular thought crosses my mind, I feel the need to ingest more alcohol. I bring the glass to my mouth, and realize that it's empty only when the much desired liquid doesn't hit my lips.

Perhaps I should get myself another glass of wine. Should I offer it to the girls, too? Well, Madge probably won't be drinking wine. But Johanna would accept it gladly. If I give a glass to Johanna but not to Madge, would she be offended that I didn't even think to ask her? And if I ask her, would she be offended that I assumed she would drink while pregnant? Nah, I shouldn't give wine to neither. I should take a glass for myself, though.

“So.” Johanna's voice interrupts the wine-related stream of thought in my head. I turn my head to look at my friends, their faces do not promise anything good. “We have shared our secrets with you, Everdeen. Do you have something to share with us, too?”

What the fuck are they talking about? Are they talking about what I think they're talking about? Do they already know what they're asking and they're trying to get it out of me with some kind of trick? Or a guilt trip? Ah! Jokes on them! I don't feel guilty about anything at all. I won't tell them a thing about Peeta Mellark!

I shake my head, trying to play it off nonchalantly.

Madge and Johanna share an unconvinced look. “Are you sure, Katniss?” Madge insists. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope.” I decide it's time to get myself more wine. I get up and head towards the kitchen. “Do you guy want anything to drink?”

I won't tell them a single thing.

#Dr. Hot Buns MD #Dr. Hot Buns MD outtake 2 #outtakes #things I write #it has been 84 years #not really #but it might as well have been #a year and a half without writing anything down #it really took its toll on me #I don't know how to word anymore #anyway sorry it took me so long to come back at writing #everlark #everlark fanfiction

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porchwood · 6 years

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THG Reread: Interesting Tidbits from Ch 1

Disclaimer: I’ve never taken part in any official THG reread/discussion and I essentially read the book in isolation, so anything I say in these posts may well have been discussed and dismissed years ago.

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and crawled in with our mother.

I find it interesting that Prim leaves Katniss to find comfort with their mother, especially since Katniss seems to see herself as Prim’s sole protector and provider. Are Prim and Mrs. Everdeen closer than Katniss realizes (having such an abrasive relationship with her mother as she does) or is it simply that Mom will always be Mom and in a moment of terror most children prefer the embrace of their mother over a sibling?

Also: sleeping directly on a rough canvas-covered mattress? Are bed sheets are that great a luxury in the Seam? :(

I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers…

So she gets out of bed and puts on her boots, then her trousers... So...girl’s a firefighter, right? :D

(Sorry for the crummy pics. Apparently the Tumblr presence of the Emergency! fandom is microscopic at best - I guess that happens with a ‘70s show :P - so these are screenshots I made from the S1 DVD, because yes, I’m that big of an Emergency! fangirl and you can never have too much Johnny Gage!)

It gives “girl on fire” a whole new meaning!! ;D

All merriment aside, we know that fire was a constant danger in the Seam, with its “old wooden homes embedded with coal dust,” so it’s entirely possible that residents slept with trousers and boots in readiness at the bedside, to be stepped into at a moment’s notice for a rapid escape if needed.

I…tuck my long dark braid up into a cap…

This has been discussed in previous rereads so it really isn’t news, but I’d love to see more Katniss-in-a-cap popping up in fics and fanart. THG opens in summertime and she’s still wearing the cap, so it was definitely a staple of her wardrobe! (And it brings us a little closer to the girl-disguised-as-a-boy trope, which is one of my all-time faves! :D)

(Behold this adorable @ghtlovesthg rendering!)

Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour…

Somehow I had always (erroneously) assumed that there was just one twelve-hour shift that all the miners worked (ex. 6am-6pm). Since artificial light would be required inside the mines anyway, I suppose they could work around the clock with no regard to the sun and stars. Folks who live in/near coal mining communities: do they generally operate 24 hours a day or is there some arbitrary cut-off point in the evening? (I’m sorry I’m so ignorant about this!)

Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt…

Has anyone else figured out who these mysterious additional hunters are??

I watch as Gale pulls out his knife and slices the bread. He could be my brother. Straight black hair, olive skin, we even have the same gray eyes. But we’re not related, at least not closely.

First off: it truly befuddles me that Katniss’s hair color is stated on page 8 of THG (though, interestingly, never explicitly afterward) and yet it’s unusual - maybe even rare - to find fanart or even fics that depict her with black hair. Why is that? I was in love with her long black hair from moment one (truly black hair is unique, at least in my part of the world, and so striking to boot) so I probably belabor it a bit in my own writing, but it’s such an exquisite feature, why would you not?

Secondly: “He could be my brother.” That feels significant, and not merely in the “we look alike” sense. I’ve been working on a post about how Gale came into Katniss’s life in a very significant fashion after her beloved father’s death and she was drawn to him because of certain (I would venture to say striking) commonalities, but as I was wrapping it up last night (and sharing various details with my favorite sounding-board @ghtlovesthg), I realized there was a whole - vitally important - flipside to my theory that absolutely cannot be overlooked. So I might not get that finished till we’re on CF or even MJ. (No spoilers just in case someone pips me at the post - pun inadvertent ;) - but I think it’s pretty cool!)

And thirdly, because I can’t resist: I headcanon that Gale and Katniss are cousins through their great-great-grandfather (Galen Greenbrier, if anyone cares :D), who had two daughters (Aisling and Elspeth), who each had a daughter (Wren and Ashpet), who had Hazelle and Jack (Mr. Everdeen), who begat Gale and Katniss, respectively. Ergo: related but “not closely,” per canon. :)

With both of us hunting daily…

I’d always thought Gale and Katniss only hunted a few times a week, with Sundays being their largest haul/best trading day. (“Usually we devote all of Sunday to stocking up for the week.”) I know Twelve is an unusually permissive district at this point in time, but if two Seam kids were sneaking back and forth under the fence every single day and (forgive me) flaunting the fact by selling game in town (and when did they do this? before school, after, both?), surely, inevitably, the Peacekeepers would have been obliged to do something about it. Or were there some trips where Gale and Katniss only brought back enough for their own families, making their illegal activities not quite so blatant?

Cross-referencing with Catching Fire, I find Katniss saying, “Back when we were in school, we had time in the afternoons to check the lines and hunt and gather and still get back to town to trade” - exactly what time did they get out of school and how late were they doing these trades (not to mention, when did anyone get homework done)?? - but she also says it’s “an hour-and-a-half trek” just to check the snare line. I guess it isn’t impossible, but it seems a much more extensive (and time-consuming!) arrangement than I would have thought they could get by with, even in Twelve.

We easily trade six of the fish for good bread…

Like the rest of you, I’m trying to figure out who’s selling this “good bread” at the Hob. For some odd reason, at one point I thought maybe the bakery’s day-olds were sold there, à la:

They could potentially sell said day-olds at less of a discount than merchant clientele would demand but the reduced prices would be low enough for some Seam clientele to afford, and of course, even day-old bakery bread would be superior to homemade tessera bread (and therefore: “good bread”).

I’m not sure where I got the “bakery outlet” idea (I think it was all the early canonverse fics where Katniss ran into Peeta in the Hob, so I figured he was running a day-olds stall or something) but having been away from it for awhile, I actually kind of like it! :)

You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve.

I’m going to wax exceedingly about reaping ages in another post, but for the moment: I presume this rule means that anyone who turns twelve between reaping days becomes eligible for the subsequent reaping, correct? So if we arbitrarily set the reaping at, say, June 1, someone whose birthday is on June 2 wouldn’t be eligible till the following year. (Which would be especially terrible for your 18-yr-old reaping: being a day away from 19 and freedom, of a sort, but still having to go through one last reaping.) Now I think of it, it’s possible Career districts took advantage of this. Highly invested parents in a Career district could have planned their pregnancies with the intent of a late summer birth (i.e., a month or two after reaping day) so the resulting children would have the advantage of extra months up on other tributes in their same age group.

On the flipside of this: Prim, whose birthday is in late May, would be an especially young tribute, since she’s only just turned twelve (think school kids with summer birthdays who don’t turn the “right age” for their grade till 1-3 months after school is out), and similarly Katniss, whose birthday is May 8, would be on the young side of the group of sixteens.

“Pretty dress,” says Gale.

Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it’s a genuine compliment or if he’s just being ironic. It is a pretty dress, but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles. “Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don’t I?”

Now it’s Gale’s turn to be confused. Does she mean it? Or is she messing with him? I’m guessing the second.

Gaaah, so much going on here! I can’t decide if I want to make a proper Gadge post, so in the meantime, here’s some food for thought:

1) Why does Gale remark on her dress? Really - give me suggestions, because I’ve been turning it over in my head. If it’s meant to be ironic and she gives him sarcasm in reply (as seems to be the quintessential Gadge dynamic :D), it’s odd that he would be confused and not have a volley/riposte/etc of his own on deck. I mean, Katniss doesn’t seem to know (or at least, doesn’t clarify in her narration) whether or not it’s a compliment -

2) Which is interesting, because she guesses straightaway that Madge is “messing with him” in reply. ;)

3) Gale gives Madge what outwardly seems like a compliment and this is what ensues. One might surmise they’ve done this before... :D I mean, if there was no precedent, Madge would’ve just said “thank you” and exchanged money for berries. Since the mayor is such a valuable customer (being one of very few who can afford their asking price for strawberries), it’s interesting that Gale would antagonize Madge and risk losing the strawberry trade - not to mention bringing up the subject of tesserae at the mayor’s back door on reaping day! Does he take similar potshots at other merchants or is it just Madge? Is he irked (even threatened) by Katniss’s friendship with Madge? (I love that Katniss immediately defends Madge in the face of Gale’s tesserae rant. ♡) Does he feel like he can sound off at her (with impunity) because she’s Katniss’s friend? Or is he secretly crazy about her and resigned to the fact that he’ll never get her but the reminders of the impassable gap between them still incense him? Sorry, my hand slipped there for a sec. ;)

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected.

I didn’t recall this line from previous reading and it just makes me happy. :)

To my surprise, my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me. A soft blue thing with matching shoes. [...] For a while I was so angry, I wouldn’t allow her to do anything for me. And this is something special. Her clothes from her past are very precious to her.

I’d never caught the “matching shoes” bit before! Do you suppose Katniss means dyed [blue] to match/covered with matching fabric (so that’s what they do at the shoe shop!) or simply that they go well with the dress? And if she means that the shoes literally match the dress: is this a particularly special dress (hence particularly special shoes) or is it customary for merchant girls to order shoes to match their dresses?

And further: why this year? It doesn’t sound like Mrs. Everdeen has offered one of her apothecary-era dresses before, which could have been due to Katniss’s repeated rebuffs, but still: why offer one of those very precious dresses this year? Did she have a feeling about this reaping? Or is she starting to see Katniss as a young woman, not just an angry, resourceful child? (Coupled with the fact that she subsequently puts Katniss’s hair up, the latter makes a lot of sense.)

On a sidenote: Has anyone written meta on the significance/usage of braids in Twelve? (Notwithstanding WTM: Ch 13 and all that Mellark bridal braids/braid coils/engagement hairpin business.) Ex. Does a girl "graduate” from pigtails to a single braid around puberty and then to a crown braid as a young woman/wife, or does she/her mother simply style it however she feels on any given day? I’m just now realizing that I consistently picture reaping day!Prim in pigtails because of the film, but it doesn’t state in the text how her hair is styled, so it might be in a single braid or held back at the temples with a clip or even worn loose.

The square’s surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there’s good weather, it has a holiday feel to it.

I’m really curious about “public market days,” since the Hob seems to be Twelve’s primary market - or at least, has become so in fanon - but Katniss makes a clear distinction between them (“Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades at the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money”). Is this public market like a farmer’s market or a craft fair - or a bit of both? Is it simply the “merchant version” of the Hob? How often are they held? Who gets to sell at this market, and what sort of wares are we talking about? (Is it just merchants bringing their product outside, like a sidewalk sale?) Does the Capitol/Justice Building collect a fee from everyone wanting a stall/booth/table?

Edit: While looking up details for a different post, I found this passage:

Gale and I went to the market on the square so that I could buy dress materials [for Prim].

So apparently they sold fabric and notions in the public market? (Not at, say, a mercantile/general store?) I’m wholly confused now!

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little-bookshelf-dragon · 5 years

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February Wrap Up (Finally)

Okay! So I’m finally getting to this...five days late. Oops. Just to clear that up, I started a reading journal towards the end of February and wanted to do entries for the month of February before making this post. I’m hoping that this will help me organize my thoughts for my reviews. So I can actually... post reviews.

Anyway. Here we go! I’m going to begin with my overall thoughts and then go into my stats and put reviews under the cut so if you haven’t read these books and want to avoid spoilers you can!

Overall thoughts on this month’s reading:

I DNF’d one-third of my TBR this month (two of six. I say one third like it’s so many more than that). It’s a little funny that I had so much more success with the books I hadn’t actually planned to read than my TBR. I’m also kind of surprised that I made it through some of the books that I did, when I DNF’d other books for similar reasons. I did go into this month knowing that this was going to be a difficult bunch of books to get through,

I think I’m going to have to adjust my Goodreads reading challenge. I’ve already more than halfway through it and its only February. I'm honestly surprised. I didn’t think I was going to make it through the 52 I had planned.

Stats for this month:

Total Books Read (Finished): 18

DNF’d Books: 2

Books I need to Finish: 4

All-Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens Throughout the Ages by Saundra Mitchell, et al.

City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling

We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson

Academic Books: 3

A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Willaim Shakespeare

Young Goodman Brown by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen

Ratings:

Five Stars: 5

Four Stars: 7

Three Stars: 4

Two Stars: 2

One Star: 0

Spoilery Reviews Under the Cut!

DNF’d Books:

Frozen by Melissa De LaCruz and Micheal Johnston

It was a weird book. In general. And then the Scene that implied sexual assault happened, and I had to stop reading. I just couldn’t bring myself to finish it.

Ender’s Game By Orson Scott Card

I was having trouble getting into the book in the first place, and then I realized that these were six year old kids. Being trained for war. Against aliens. As I have a sister who’s six, this didn’t sit well with me.

Two Star Books:

Echo by Alyson Noel

I was really dissappointed in this book. I really enjoyed the first book in the Soul Seekers book, Fated. I liked the worldbuilding, the relationship between Daire and Dace, the concept of the Echo. But I had too many complaints about this book. Mainly with Cade. I feel like I could have liked him more if he had some actual development and clearer motivations. Though, I think the attempted rape scene was a little much (that’s an understatement.) I think it would be nice if there were a YA book where the female MC wasn’t assaulted, or at least that addresses it properly afterward.

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

I’m honestly surprised that I finished this one, after I DNF’d another book for similar things happening. I didn't like Feyre much. She didn't seem to have much moe to her character other than painting and hunting. For someone who was meant to be so strong willed, she seemed to change her mind too easily. Rhysand...I don’t know where it start with him. He’s not much of one here, but it’s pretty obvious that they’re setting him up as a love interst in the later books. Can we stop having abusive boyfriends in YA lit? Tamlin was a little pathetic. Maybe don’t alienate the one person that’s your shot at freedom? Maybe? Feyre and Tamilin’s relationship was cute, but it wasn't really all that convincing.

Three Star Books:

The Maze Runner by James Dashner

The Maze runner was good. I’m not sure if it was good enough to deserve the hype it received. I did not like that there was so much that was left unanswered in the beginning. It’s one thing to withhold information to create interest. It’s another to taunt your readers by having a character ask the questions, and the others refusing to give an answer. I did think the ending was an interesting twist, to stage a ‘rescue’ and then have it turn out to be apart of the trials.

Love Drugged by James Klise

There’s...a lot to unpack with this one. At first, the general premise made me feel a little sick. I almost stopped reading it several times thoughtout the book, especially when the chaacters described being gay as a disease. But by the time I finished, I think I understood better. Jamie was being mainipulated, not just by the doctor, but by society to think that way. His journey to discover and understand himself leads to his desperate actions in an effort to escape that manipulation. It’s heartbreaking to know that Jamie's thoughts were based off of off the author’s when he was around the same age.

Take Two by Julia Devillers & Jennifer Roy

I was kind of disappointed in this book. I loved the first one when I was younger, so the fact that I didn’t feel the same about the sequel is a let down. Though I guess that might have to do with the difference in age between the times I read them

Young Goodman Brown by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Four Star books:

Mockingjay by Suzzane Collins

I cried so much reading this book. Katniss yelling at Buttercup at the end broke me. Her “for Prim” before the execution was beautiful (I’ll admit it took me some time to realize she was hinting at what she was planning to do.) Cinna having a part in the rebellion even after his death. The amount that Haymitch cares about Peeta and Katniss. UGH the feels. I did have a problem with the pacing. I felt like all the action was squeezed in at teh end. And Peeta and Katniss’s relationship seemed to seesaw between them in it’s one-sidedness throughout the series.

Duel Of Fire by Jordan Rivet

I did not expect to enjoy this book as much as I did. Especially at he beginning, I thought the characters were annoying. But that GROWTH. By the end, I loved the characters. I had a hunch about who the rebels were, but I wasn’t sure until they were revealed. I loved the magic system and world building, and I can’t wait to see how the story will be developed in the next book and the rest of the series.

Steelheart by Brandon Sanderson

This was my first Brandon Sanderson book and I was not disappointed. The concept was interesting, the Epics having a specific weakness kept them from being overpowered, and I loved the fact that the “Normal people” weere the heroes (For the most part.) I KNEW there was somehing up wiht Megan. But Steelheart’s weakness completely threw me off. I had so many theories, but I was wrong on all of them. That was a plot twist done well.

City of Fallen Angels by Cassandra Clare

(I’m actually not going to include my notes here because they turned into more of a rant at the characters than an actual reveiw)

Galatea by Madaline Miller

I want more of this. Any additional content, I want it. It says something that she felt the only way to escape was to die (And take her husband with her). I REALLY want to know what happened with their daughter.

The Skin I’m In by Sharon G. Flake

This is a reread for me. I read tthis book when I, I believe, was the same age as Maleeka. And at the time, while I had never been in the same situations she’s in, I could still relate to her. Now, as an adult working with students Maleeka’s age, I see my students. It gives me a better insight to what might be going on in their homes, thoughts, and attitudes. This is a book that so many of them should read, just like so many of them could use a Ms. Saunderson.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Willaim Shakespeare

Five Star books:

Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare

This book. This book. I audiobooked most of it, which meant that I was listening to it in class while working. Which means I cried. During class. This is one of the few love triangles I think I’ve ever really liked and am actually emotionally invested in. I fully understand the hype around this series. I can't wait to pick up the next one.

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo

After finishing the audiobook, I'm sitting here trying to find the words to describe how much this means to me. How many of Xiomara's thoughts and feelings I relate to. And I just can't find the words. I can't remember the last time a book meant this much to me. Wanting to find my own voice. Beginning to question the religion that has been such a big part of my life for a long time. Feeling like I have to hide parts of myself, my thoughts, my feelings, everything I wish I could say but can't, from people I care about. Wanting my own writing to mean something to others. I wish I could put what I'm feeling into words, but I'm struggling. I cried. I need a copy of this book. I loved it so much.

Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen

I feel like Dessen’s books follow a pattern. I’ve only read three so far, but I’m able to see the similarities. However, that dosn't stop them from being unique. Sydney’s problems are different from Macy’s, whose are different from Collie’s. So while the books are similar enought to notice a pattern, they’re unique enough to keep the reader’s interest. I wouldn’t say that Saint Anything has impacted me as much as some books have, but I did still enjoy it. Also, a moment of appreciation for instances of sexual assault handled correctly? It's rare to see the subject addressed in a book after it happens. Though I would have loved to see Ames prosecuted. We need to tell girls it's okay to speak up about these things.

Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan

I loved this. I’m not even sue how to put it all inot words. First of all, Saskia getting expelled? Excellent. That girl made me so mad. Messing with Lila’s feelings was bad enough, but hen going stalker, assualting her, and then outing her to the entire school? I think I would have liked to see even more of a punishment, honestly. Maybe someting from her parents. LISA. I loved Lisa. I’m so happy she and Leila ended up together. They both deserved to be happy and I’m so happy they got to be happy together. I was so emotional after finishing this book.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I’m not going to go too in depth because then this would be way too long but this is my favorite book that I’ve had to read for a calss. Ever.

#booklr #book reviews #Wrap Up #February 2019 #2019 posts #moony reviews #read tag

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kriscme · 7 years

Text

Katniss Takes The Initiative.

This is the first fanfic I wrote for “The Chance You Didn’t Take” by Ronja (available on fanfiction and AO3 which I’d link to if I knew how). I’m afraid it’s not very good, but there’s a happy ending. It picks up from the final chapter minus the epilogue (still to be written). Apologies for the bad sex. Many thanks to Ronja for the inspiration. “His last everything,” is my last coherent thought as I drift into a blissful, dreamless sleep. But this morning I don’t have the same confidence that Peeta simply telling me so has made him my last anything. I’m sure Lace thought he was her last and look how that turned out. For that matter, I thought I was his last and look how that turned out. Peeta has done all he can to convince me that he’s not going anywhere, but the knowledge that he loved Lace, loved her enough to want to marry her, in fact, haunts me. There was some truth to Lace’s words when she asked, “when have you brought him anything but misery?” Even Haymitch didn’t disagree that Lace made him happy. And here’s me – burnt, nightmares, small breasts, plain black hair, a surly disposition and a killer. I can’t quite shake the idea that one day he’s going to realise he made the wrong decision when he chose me over her. Will I ever feel good enough? Will I ever have the same trust I had in Peeta’s love again? Will I ever stop measuring myself against Lace and find myself wanting? Ultimately, I know that it’s really about how I feel about myself. If he had married Lace he could have at least one child by now and he’d have the wife and family he’d wanted. Yet despite all that he chose to be with me. Buoyed by that thought, I am happy. But a moment later I’m miserable again because I don’t want Peeta to have given up anything to be with me. Or that it was even a choice to begin with. I realise this thinking is getting me nowhere and could eventually corrode my relationship with Peeta if I don’t turn it around. If I don’t like the situation, I should either change it if I can, or accept it. I resolve to do both. My first opportunity comes a few days later when Max and I go into the woods to collect pine cones. The cones are used for school projects and collecting them has become a yearly ritual. Max chatters away as we pile them into burlap sacks. I make listening noises where appropriate. I have something to ask him and nervousness has tied my tongue. Max isn’t ideal for the topic of conversation I have planned, but there is no one else and he does have experience in this kind of thing. What I fear most is that he will laugh. “Um, Max,” I hesitate. “I have a couple of things to ask you, if that’s OK.”

Max straightens up and tosses another cone in the sack. “Sure, go ahead.” I start with the easy question. “It’s about my future at the school. I’ve been thinking about it lately and I really do enjoy teaching. It’s just that I’m concerned how relevant my classes will stay now that professional teachers are moving into the district. I left school at sixteen because of the Games so I don’t have much education. I was wondering how you get qualified. To be a teacher, that is.” Max shrugs. “It’s not hard. There’s actually no set standard in Panem. It’s been left up the Districts and in many cases teachers have had no formal qualifications. But that could change now that we have half-way decent government. I don’t think your job is threatened at the moment but, looking towards the future, it can’t hurt to have a qualification under your belt. What were you good at, besides killing small creatures and being generally unpleasant?” I scowl at him. “I kill big creatures too if they annoy me, so you’d better watch it. I guess I was good at maths, maybe science.” “Perfect. You already have a head start in biology. You could do a course by correspondence. Milo can help if you need it. We can book you online.” I must have looked blank because he continues, “Online. Using a computer. That box like thing that’s just been installed in the office. The outlying districts actually have internet access now. We can register you for a correspondence course and you’ll get your lessons in the mail. “

“OK, that sounds perfect. Thanks.” “So, what was the second thing you wanted to ask.” “Oh, yes.” I drop my gaze to the ground and kick at pine needles to hide my blush. “Um, it’s about sex.” “Excuse me? What did you say?” “Sex. Look, if you’re going to laugh, just do it now. That way I’ll know not to continue.” Max pretends to be hurt. “As if I would be so insensitive. I thought you’d know me better by now.” “I do know you. That’s the problem. But there’s no one else I can ask” “Not even Peeta?”

“Especially not him. It’s about him. Us, actually.” I chance a quick look at Max but to my surprise his face is serious and I have hope that I could actually have a fruitful conversation with him. “Go ahead. I won’t laugh. Promise, hand on heart, “he replies, as he places his hand across his chest. I take a deep breath to calm myself. “Peeta and I have just started being . . . intimate. And I’m worried that I may not be very good at it. So, I thought you may be able to give me some advice,” I finish in a rush. Max stares at me, incredulous. “Hold on. You’re just started and he’s been back, how long? I’m immediately on the defensive. “I knew you’d be like this. Just forget I asked.” Max puts up his hands. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to get some context. If you want my advice, I’ll need to ask questions. And you were the one to come to me, remember?” Appeased, I nod my head. What he says is true. If I want his help, I’d have to push past my embarrassment about such things. “Peeta and I decided to wait until we were both sure we were committed to each other. We had a lot to work through. Trust issues, and such. But now, well, Peeta is experienced and I’m not. And I worry that I don’t measure up.” “Right. But, you’re not inexperienced. You and Peeta have been. . . intimate before. Why the worry now?” Like most people who had watched the Games, Max thinks that Peeta and I had been lovers in every sense of the word, and I have said nothing to make him believe otherwise. Max is in for a surprise. “We never were together before. Not like that, anyway. We made up the pregnancy to get sympathy from the audience in the hope that the Games might be stopped. It didn’t work, obviously. The miscarriage was also made up – to explain why I wasn’t pregnant anymore. “

“So, you were a virgin until recently?” “Yes”. I close my eyes, in anticipation of a loud guffaw of laughter. To my relief, it doesn’t come. “And that’s a problem? Why?” I burst out, “Isn’t it obvious? Peeta has been used to someone far more experienced than me. When we’re together I can’t get this thought out of my mind that he’s somehow disappointed - that I should be doing more. But I don’t know what.” “Has he complained?” “No, but Peeta wouldn’t. He’d say I was good, even if I really wasn’t, if it would spare my feelings. He and Lace used to have these inside jokes. I didn’t know what they meant at the time, but I do now. What if he wants me to do that? I don’t have the first clue how to do it.” “What joke was that?” “It was about stiff jaws.”

“Oh.” Max rubs his hand across his forehead before he continues. “Look, most men love to be a woman’s first lover. They pay extra at brothels for the privilege. Believe me, Peeta doesn’t care that you have no experience. It only takes practice. It will mean much more to him that you haven’t been with anyone but him.” “Maybe it would have meant more to me if he hadn’t been with anyone but me. Why should it be any different for women?” “You have a point there. Katniss, you’re just going to have get over it. He’s got baggage, so what? We all have. If it’s not a sexual past, it’s something else. At least he hasn’t tried to kill you. Oh wait, he did. If you can get past that, you can get past anything. In any case, Lace may have been terrible in the sack. Gigglers often are. I’ve had a few myself, and they were awful, always laughing at inappropriate moments.” I smile inwardly at the sudden image of one of Max’s giggling lovers bursting into an uncontrolled fit when Max dropped his trousers. I decide to keep it to myself. “Katniss, if you’re still worried, why don’t you get yourself a book on the subject.” “There’s books about it? I didn’t know. Where do you get them?” “Bookshops. The library might have some.” I shake my head. District 12 was still small. What if word got out that Katniss Everdeen had bought a book on how to be good at sex? What if Lace heard of it? Horror! And the library was out for obvious reasons. “You could order one online.” “You can do that?” “Sure. You can order almost anything online. What if we order you one at the same time we book your correspondence course? The education of Katniss Everdeen. What could be a worthier project?” “Can we do it tomorrow? Before anyone gets in? I don’t want anyone to know about it.” We tie up the last of the sacks and commence the short hike back. As we take leave of each other, I remember to say to him, “Thanks for the talk, Max. And thanks for not laughing.” “No worries, Kitty Kat. I’ve been saving it for when I get home.” ______________________________________________________________ “I don’t see any problem, Miss Everdeen. We’ll have our architect draw up plans to your specification and once everything is to your liking, we can start almost immediately.”

“That’s great, Mr Brady. I want this finished before winter sets in, if that’s possible. So, the sooner we get the process moving, the better.” “We’ll do our best. I’ll be in contact once we have the first draft done, probably in a few days.” “Thank you. I’ll hear from you soon then.” Once out of the door, I do a quick scan of the street. I want this to be as secret as possible, for as long as possible. The street is clear and I commence my walk down the main thoroughfare. It’s the commercial part of town and shops and businesses are busy with customers at this time of the day. I quickly scuttle past Lace’s shop. We avoid each other as much as possible. I’ve given up hope for any kind of amnesty. The best I get from Lace is pretence that I’m not here. However, it seems I’m safe today as there’s a closed sign on the front door and the shop appears empty. My eye lands on the shop sign above. The beautiful sign Peeta painted for her has been replaced with something not nearly as imaginative. I wouldn’t mind betting the pattern book he made for her has suffered a similar fate. Three doors along there is a confectionary store. I peer in to admire the artful displays of boxed chocolates and candies of every description. Prim would have loved it. Suddenly two strong male arms engulf me from behind in a bear hug and a kiss is planted on the side of my neck. I get the fright of my life and Peeta comes within a second of having his instep stomped on. “Peeta, you scared me.” “What? Who else would it be? Don’t tell me I have a rival.” “No, but do that again and you might have.” Peeta answers me with a quick hard kiss. “What are you doing in this part of town?” “Oh, just odds and ends. Window shopping mostly. What about you?” “Katniss Everdeen, window shopper. That’s new.” Peeta points to an office supply store across the street. “I’ve been ordering office furniture for the library. But now, I’m finished for the day. Want to join me for an ice-cream?” “I think you must be made of ice-cream by now. But sure, I’d love one. Might as well get some calories in before we sit down to Haymitch’s cooking tonight. Who knows what we’ll get.” “Now, Katniss, don’t be harsh. His cooking has improved. I think his beef bourguignon actually had beef in it last time.” “Well, we know it had the full complement of wine.” The ice-cream parlour is packed when we arrive. Its easily the most popular addition to all the new services and amenities that’s been available in District 12 since the end of the war. “Peeta, you grab a table. I’ll get the ice-creams. Soft serve?” Peeta nods and heads in the direction of a free table. I join the queue. Usually I hate queues but it gives me ample time to decide which flavour I’ll have. Should I go for a tried and tested favourite such as rum and raisin or try something new such as butter pecan? A short time later, with an ice-cream in each hand, I search out Peeta and make my way towards him. I’m immediately struck by his doleful expression. He was happy five minutes ago, what could have happened to change his mood so rapidly? I take a seat opposite Peeta and hand him his ice-cream. He smiles his thanks but it doesn’t reach his eyes and there’s something about the way he keeps his gaze forward that makes me suspicious. I rake the surrounding area for clues, and there it is. Just two tables away, is Lace. She has someone with her, a friend from her home district who I recognise from the pre-wedding dinner. Sateen Bobbin, I think her name is. At Lace’s feet lies her big slobbering lump of a dog. Lace’s head turns in my direction as if she senses she’s being observed. For a moment, we lock eyes and then quickly turn away. Neither of us wants to be caught looking. She appears as uncomfortable as Peeta. However, Lace’s discomfiture has an air of grievance about it and Peeta’s is one of remorse and guilt. To make matters worse, it seems to attract the interest of the occupants of a nearby table who watch and whisper. No doubt they remember the big scandal of two years ago when Lace Bomul was dumped at the altar by Peeta Mellark. Peeta attempts some light-hearted conversation that would fool anyone but me. My heart breaks for him. Suddenly, I see what the problem is. I’ve wasted precious time and emotions feeling resentful of Peeta’s reluctance to be seen out in public with me if Lace might be there. I’ve attributed it to lingering affection for Lace, or more consideration of her over me. But it’s really just about Peeta. Peeta has a great need to be liked and it devastates him when he’s not. I’ve never cared much about what people think of me, but Peeta does. I push my chair from the table. “Do you mind if we eat these on the way home? I’ve just remembered I have to prepare a lesson for tomorrow and I’d like to do it before dinner.” Peeta doesn’t have to be asked twice. As we walk, I wonder whether I should say something about the scene we’ve just left. Eventually I decide to speak up.

“It was awkward back there. Lace, I mean.” Peeta shrugs his shoulders miserably. “Yeah. I guess it’s what I deserve, though. I wouldn’t forgive me either.” “Don’t you? I think you would. And I think you should. You’re carrying guilt for things that belong at Snow’s door, not yours. None of it would have happened if not for the hijacking.” I pause for a moment to let that sink in before I express what really bothers me. “And it’s not like Lace didn’t play a part in this too,” I continue. “I don’t doubt she loved you, but she also knew you had lost many of your memories and that you were in a mentally fragile state. You weren’t in a position to marry anyone, but she accepted anyway. She took a risk, and she lost. It burns me up that she pins all the blame on you and takes none for herself.” I steel myself in expectation of a barrage of denial from Peeta. He’s had nothing negative to say about Lace, yet he’s criticised my part in this whole sorry mess. I hadn’t realised how much I resent it until now.

But to my surprise, no denials are forthcoming. Peeta merely shakes his head. “I can’t blame others for all of it. There were some things, some decisions that were all me. I was scared, when all’s said and done. Shit scared.” “Of what?” “Of being alone. Of not being loved. Of never being loved again. Scared of falling in love with you and not having you love me back.” I don’t respond immediately. This isn’t what he told me when he returned from the Capitol and I take a moment to mull it over. “I thought you loved Lace. That’s what you told me. You loved her and then became confused when you started to love me again.” “Both are true. I did love her but there was so much mixed in with that, that it’s hard to separate what was real and what wasn’t. I think I tried to create a narrative for myself, because as hard as it to follow a false one, it’s much easier than not having one at all. But underneath I still had the same fears and desires pulling at me. It’s just that had no idea where to put them. And then Lace came along and she so obviously liked me and I guess, it’s what I needed at the time. There was a moment. . .” Peeta hesitates, as if he’s uncertain whether he should continue. “What? What moment?” I demand. I have a feeling I’m not going to like what comes next, but I have to know. There have been many times when I’ve asked myself what chances I didn’t take and could have done differently. “A moment when I teetered on the edge. A crossroad, I guess.” Peeta swallows and I can see it’s difficult for him to go on. “It was at the mayor’s party. I was with Lace, but you looked so beautiful in your Cinna dress and memories had started to return. You had seemed angry or annoyed with me recently and I didn’t know why. Lace told me I should give you space, but it didn’t seem to help and I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do anyway.” At this, I can’t help pursing my lips in anger. I long suspected Lace of subtly undermining me and now it’s confirmed. Peeta continues. “But that night you smiled at me and it seemed like we were back to normal. It’s hard to describe my state of mind at the time, but the closest I can get is that it was like there was a memory just out of my reach. I wanted to chase it, but then you waved me away like I was being dismissed again and I felt wherever these memories were leading me, they weren’t taking me to a place I wanted to go. But I also had these feelings that had to go somewhere and Lace was there. I don’t know who pulled who down to the kitchens. And then I saw you, so shocked and disgusted by what I was doing with Lace, and I knew that if there had been a chance, it was gone now. Any feelings of attraction, I stifled from then on, or projected onto Lace. I think it was after that I became truly serious about her. “ I recall that moment only too well. I wish I could forget it. Peeta was all over Lace, his lips on hers, hand on her breast, one of Lace’s legs wrapped around his thighs as he ground into her centre. It forms part of my insecurity about sex, for while Peeta is passionate with me, there’s none of that wild frenzy about it. I don’t whether it’s a good or bad thing, only that Lace has brought something out in him that I haven’t. “I was shocked, but not disgusted. That night. . .” I stop to formulate my thoughts. There was more to it than what happened that night. “It started before that. I was angry and upset over the pattern book you made for Lace.” Peeta nods. “I know it upset you, but I couldn’t fathom why. Now looking back, it does mark the time when you withdrew from me for a while. I thought it was because I was crowding you and you found it annoying.” “That’s what Lace told you, I presume?” Acid had crept into my voice and when I shoot a glance at Peeta and I can tell by his expression that I’m right. “No, it was nothing like that. You talk of self-preservation, of not wanting to be hurt. Well, it was the same for me. We had worked on my father’s plant book together when I was laid up with an injured foot. I started to fall in love with you over that book. It was such a normal thing to do, and everything we had done together before that had been far from normal. It was the first time I could relax and simply enjoy us being together. It was a special time for me, so when you made a similar book for Lace, I just lost it. I wanted to save myself from more hurt, and I think I channeled it into anger. It wasn’t fair to you, but it was a way for me to cope at the time. And anyway, you had Lace.” “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I think what makes me angry with myself the most is that I pride myself on my ability to read people but I missed so many cues. Dr Aurelius says we interpret according to our own standpoint but it was never a problem for me before.” I laugh ruefully to lighten the mood a little. “We both missed cues, but my excuse is that at least it’s my forte.” Peeta smiles but I can tell he’s not convinced. “Anyway, for the record, I wasn’t disgusted. Just shocked and very hurt. I ran home in my bare feet and cried until I had no tears left.” I add plaintively, “I never did get my shoes back,” This time Peeta laughs. “I owe you a pair of shoes then.” His voice turns serious. “I wish I had known. It’s an awful thing to say, but I became serious about Lace because I couldn’t have you. And it’s not like I didn’t love her or we couldn’t have had a happy life, it’s just that she has one fatal flaw. She isn’t you.” We walk in silence for a few minutes. The gates of Victors Village loom closer. I think of Gale and how it would have been if we had ended up together. I think we would have been happy for a while. I certainly had more in common with him than I do with Peeta. Peeta and I have hardly anything in common when I think on it, but our personalities work well together nonetheless. Gale and I would have argued a lot. Our temperaments were too similar not to. I can’t imagine Peeta and Lace fighting. But that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t have been resentments or areas of unhappiness. And while Peeta says they would have been happy, my hunch says otherwise. They just hadn’t reached the point where the newness had rubbed off and the boredom of being too much alike had settled in. Or perhaps it had, and Peeta simply hasn’t acknowledged it yet. I have learned that Peeta is still in the process of gaining an understanding of those lost years. I’ll never know if Gale couldn’t have been more than a friend or it simply turned out that way because I had met Peeta. But I had met Peeta, and that had changed everything. Suddenly it all seemed clear to me. Maybe it wasn’t the correct or only answer, but it was one I could live with. Lace was to Peeta what Gale was to me. Peeta had ruined Gale for me, and I had ruined Lace for Peeta. We were still the star-crossed lovers, just a little more star- crossed than before. But there is one thing that still bothers me.

“How come you’ve never pulled me away from a public gathering to kiss and grope in a dark hallway?” Peeta’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “I respect you too much,” he declares, as if the answer is obvious. Seconds later, he seems less sure that he’s given the right answer because he asks, “Why do you ask? Do you want me to?” I shrug my shoulders and try to appear nonchalant. “Not really. I just wondered.” “It’s because I haven’t had impure thoughts that I don’t know what to do with over a girl who’s not my girlfriend. But, if it’s important to you, next time we’re at a public engagement, I promise to push you into a dark corner so I can get my hand up your skirt and have my wicked way with you because I don’t think I could stop at the groping part.” I try to look disapproving, but it’s hard to keep the pleased smile from my face. “There’s no need for that,” I say primly. “You can wait until we get home.” As if on cue, we arrive at the path that leads to my front door. Peeta gathers me to him in a hug. “I know you still worry about Lace. But don’t. Whatever the future holds, you’re the one I want by my side. Always.” ______________________________________________________________

Peeta and I arrive at Haymitch’s door at the same time. He’s brought dessert – apple pie, I think. I can see his mood has improved and he’s back to his usual cheerful self. Peeta has a remarkable ability to bounce back – a trait no doubt honed from his difficult childhood when he had to pretend that everything was well at home. In time honoured tradition, we don’t knock but barge straight in. Haymitch rarely answers his door bell, anyway. The house isn’t quite as disgusting as it usually is. It seems reasonably clean, even though it's cluttered with books, clothes, discarded bottles and heaven knows what else. We call out to him and remove some newspapers from a sofa to sit down. He answers back from the kitchen and a few minutes later emerges wearing an apron. It’s an incongruous touch, a nod to neatness, and completely at odds with the mess around him. But odder still is the Cheshire grin plastered on his face. He smirks at me, and then at Peeta. “What?” Peeta and I call in unison. “Nothing,” he says, although the smirk remains. I guess we’ll hear what the joke is later. Haymitch has cooked spaghetti bolognaise and it’s quite tasty.

“Your own sauce?” asks Peeta. “Of course,” says Haymitch, affronted by the very suggestion. “I don’t believe in taking shortcuts when it comes to a good spag bol. It takes the best sourced ingredients you can find combined with long, slow simmering. A good splash of cabernet sauvignon is what elevates it to the next level. Or a merlot, if you don’t have that.” “Well, it’s certainly delicious. You must give me the recipe .” “Hmm, so how is it going with you kids? Still having fun?” The smirk has returned. “Yes,” replies Peeta slowly. “Why do you ask?” Haymitch rises from his chair and returns with a package. It’s been opened at one end and an address is clearly visible on top. It reads, John Smith, 5 Victors Village, District 12. Oh no, oh no! It’s the book I ordered. I deliberately gave a false name and Haymitch’s address so that it wouldn’t be traced to me. One of the many disadvantages of having a famous name is that information like this is manna to tabloid newspapers. I can picture the headlines, “Star Crossed Lovers Need Sexing Up” or “Peeta’s Pecker Not Good Enough.” Plutarch would be at my door to demand an interview for one of his life style programs. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. Haymitch usually doesn’t empty his mail box until it becomes a fire hazard. I thought it would be a simple task to retrieve it before he did. It must have been delivered today while I was in town and Haymitch, for once, actually collected his mail. I try to keep my face impassive. Maybe I can bluff this out. Haymitch reaches in and pulls out the contents and hands it to Peeta. I’m too afraid to look. I know what he’ll see on the front cover. “Human Sexual Response” by Dr Claudia Augustus. Peeta turns it over in puzzlement. He reads out, “Men with Big Dicks and the Women Who Love Them.” Haymitch explodes in a paroxysm of laughter. Max! He must have changed my order. I didn’t know how to pay and he said he’d take care of it and that I could reimburse him later. I will kill him when I see him. Peeta opens the book and I can just make out an image of an enormous phallus with a woman’s hand around it. “Which of you two does this book belong to?” gasps Haymitch. He just manages to get the words out between fits of laughter. “We’re the only ones in the entire village, so if it’s not for me, it must be one of you.” Peeta grins and says, “Certainly not me, and Katniss wouldn’t want such a thing. I think your friends are playing a joke on you. Maybe someone from the council.” I don’t trust myself to say anything so I just nod. I’ve stuck a big fake smile on my face. I hope no one questions it. The idea that the joke may be on Haymitch sobers him up a bit. Peeta points out the name. “Don’t you think if it was one of us we’d have come up with something more imaginative than “John Smith”? Besides, Katniss already has one. A man with a big dick, I mean.”

I turn beet red but the explanation seems to satisfy Haymitch. He grunts in disappointment. “Well, it was good while it lasted. I haven’t had such a good laugh in ages. Not since Sweetheart slipped on goose droppings and landed in the fish pond.” At last I find my voice. “That wasn’t funny. If it had been a child they could have drowned. That pond should be declared an environmental hazard. If you’re not going to maintain it, you should cover it up.” “Yeah, yeah. Maybe one day.” Haymitch takes the book from Peeta and tosses it in the general direction of the book case. It lands behind a pile of clothes. The rest of the evening is an anticlimax. For Haymitch, anyway. I go into the kitchen to collect Peeta’s pie dish just before we leave. On the kitchen bench is an empty jar of pasta sauce. When I re-enter the living room, Haymitch is pouring himself another drink and Peeta has buttoned up his jacket, all ready to go. “An interesting evening,” observes Peeta as we walk away. “Very”, I say with a grin. I feel extraordinarily relaxed after such a close call. If a fish pond has given Haymitch so much mileage at my expense, I can’t imagine what a book about gigantic penises would do. “Tea at my house?” While the kettle boils, I spoon mint tea into a teapot and set out two mugs. Peeta sits at the kitchen table while I work. How very domestic we are, I think to myself. Almost like a married couple. The kettle boils and I fill the teapot to the brim and then carry teapot and mugs to the table. I almost drop both, for there’s Peeta with a very Haymitch-like smirk holding “Men with Big Dicks and the Women Who Love Them” in his hand. “Here’s your book, Katniss. I managed to slip it under my jacket while Haymitch wasn’t looking. It would be a shame if you didn’t get to see it.”

I hastily set down the tea stuff with a clatter. “What are you talking about? It’s not mine.” “Yes, it is. Your face always gives you away. Why do you want a book about big dicks? Isn’t mine big enough?” Peeta’s face is a picture of amusement. I take refuge in anger. I don’t like being mocked. I especially don’t like being mocked about sex. It’s condescending and I’m tired of it. Peeta, and Max too, has this stupid idea that I’m “pure”. If only they could see what goes on in my head sometimes. “I don’t want a book about big dicks, OK?” Peeta can’t contain his laughter any longer. Apparently, Katniss Everdeen saying “dicks” is hilariously funny.

“Come on, Katniss. I know it’s yours. ‘Fess up.” “I didn’t order that book. The company sent the wrong one.” I think it’s wise to leave out Max’s involvement in this. “But you did want to keep it secret, because you wouldn’t have used a fake name and address otherwise. What book did you order? It wasn’t about hunting. ” He’s not going to let this go. I have no choice but to tell the truth. Either way I am humiliated, but a book on lovemaking techniques has to be marginally less embarrassing than big dicks. My eyes wander around the room, anywhere but on him. “It was a book called, “Human Sexual Response.” I just wanted to be better at it. For you. I know I don’t have the experience you might be used to. I thought a book on the subject might help.”

There’s a moment of silence. In my peripheral vision, I see his hand outstretched towards me. “Katniss, come here.” When I don’t respond my hand is seized and I’m plonked down onto his lap. At least I don’t have to look at him from this position.

“I’ve wanted to make love to you since I was old enough to fantasise about such things. And when it happened it was the most amazing experience of my life. And it continues to be amazing because it’s you. OK?” Mollified, I nod my head and relax against him. Peeta reaches out for the big dick book and opens it at a photograph of a penis that must be at least a foot long. “And if you feel inadequate, imagine how I must feel after seeing this whopper.” I snatch the book out of his hands and go to play hit him with it. It ends in a kissing session and by the time we think of the tea, it’s quite cold.

________________________________________________________ The next day I receive mail that I’m not embarrassed about. The first part of my correspondence course arrives and I’m eager to start. It basically consists of instructions, exercises to do, and a test that I have to complete and send in to be graded. When it’s time to be assessed, I have to sit a formal exam under the supervision of a Panem registered teacher and I know Mr Matson is one. It doesn’t look too hard, and while I might need to consult Milo on a couple of things, I’m confident I can do this. My other exciting news is that Mr Brady got back to me earlier than expected. He has the plans ready for me to check and, if there’s no changes that need to be made, the building work could start by as early as next week. A few days later, I’m deep into the mysteries of algebra when I hear the uneven tread of Peeta’s footsteps. “I thought you might like a break from studying. And some cheese buns.” A plate of my favourite baked goods is placed in front of me and I immediately tuck in. “Yum, just what I needed. I don’t remember doing all this algebra stuff at school. Is it because I wasn’t paying attention or because it has nothing to do with coal mining?” Peeta puts the kettle on for tea and then grabs a bun for himself. “Probably the former. I think it’s used in some capacity in mining, although not in the actual digging.” “I wish I had paid more attention then. It’s tricky. I might have to ask Milo about it.” “Hmm. Katniss, what have all these tradespeople been doing around your house? At least, I assume they’re tradespeople with all the measuring and such.” I look up from my sums. I knew this question would come and I have an answer ready. “Oh, I thought I’d have some renovations done. The house could do with some updating. These houses must be, what, 75, 80 years old? And I have money accumulated from the Victor’s pension so I might as well invest it my property.” Peeta leans back into his chair and says nothing. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking of his depleted bank account and money spent on an expensive wedding that didn’t happen and trips to the Capitol for treatment and a malfunctioning prosthetic. “Seems like a good idea,” he says eventually. “Is there a lot to be done?” “It will be quite extensive. Upstairs and down. Wet areas mostly and some work on the roof. The tiles and guttering need replacing. Also heating and air conditioning throughout. It’s going to be very noisy, I’m afraid. Not to mention inconvenient with tradespeople everywhere. I thought I might book myself into a hotel for the duration.” “Katniss, there’s no need for that. You can move in with me. We practically live in each other’s homes anyway.” I reach across to give him a kiss. That’s exactly what I wanted. And if I’m across from my house I can both oversee proceedings and make sure Peeta stays out of it. “Thanks. I love you. The work starts on Monday. I’ll move in on Sunday. If that’s OK with you, of course” “Of course. I’ll get the guest room ready. I scowl at him.

“For Buttercup,” he adds. “You’ll be bunking in with me.” ______________________________________________________________ Six weeks later, the work on my house is almost completed. True to his word, Mr Brady, has everything running smoothly to schedule and it won’t be long before I can move back in. I check on progress every day but I wait until Peeta is occupied outside the village when I do. I’ve told him I want a “big reveal” and he won’t get to see it until it’s finished. That goes for Haymitch too. I can barely contain my excitement, but the more excited I get, the glummer Peeta becomes. I think I understand. Living together has been wonderful. If this has been an experiment into how suited we are to share our lives together, it has been a resounding success. It’s not that there aren’t minor irritations on occasion – there are, but they are quickly dealt with. Our differences, which are many, actually complement each other. We’re like two pieces of juxtaposing jigsaw puzzle pieces that aren’t the same shape, but nonetheless fit together perfectly. Peeta has been hinting, quite heavily, that it should be a permanent arrangement. But it’s clear that I’m not renovating a house to not use it, and I haven’t given any sign that he will be too. Peeta seems resigned to the fact that we’ll continue to live apart when my house is finished but I can tell he’s disappointed. But tonight I feel not so much excited as very relaxed and free of my usual inhibitions. I don’t know whether it’s the sultry weather or the two glasses of wine at dinner that’s the cause. But as I exit the bathroom after a warm shower with my short satin nightgown gliding sensuously against my skin, I feel like the most dangerous of predators. And then I spy my prey unawares. He’s seated on the bed innocently removing his prosthetic. His broad muscled chest is bare, his only garment is loose fitting shorts. I stand in front of him. He looks up, puzzled. With a hand on each shoulder, I push him down onto the bed and with one smooth motion yank down his shorts. His penis springs up, semi-hard already. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I am determined. I drop to my knees, take a firm grasp and lower my mouth. I hear a startled gasp and then a moan of pleasure. I use his reactions to guide me as I pump, swirl and suck. I hear, “Katniss, I’m about to come” and a hand gently tries to push me away. But I’m relentless. I know what’s about to happen and it doesn’t faze me in the least. I’m the girl who could eat anything Greasy Sae dished up. He comes with a series of violent shudders and it’s only then that I release him. He stares at me with a mixture of awe and delight.

“Wow. Just wow. I’ve never had. . . that was amazing. You’re amazing.” I sit back on my haunches and smile with pride. I did it. But what did he say? Did he say “I’ve never had? Had Lace never done that? No, she couldn’t have. I was Peeta’s first! Suddenly I’m pulled on to the bed, I’m flat on my back and my nightgown is ruched around my armpits. I was naked underneath and I try to cover myself with the quilt. But my knees are seized and pulled wide apart and then his head is between my thighs and he’s staring directly between them and I’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Your turn.” I go to push his head away but the moment his tongue makes contact I forget to be shy. I forget everything except the wonderful sensations that threaten to engulf at any second. He’s tentative at first and then gains in confidence until he seems to enjoy it as much as me. In some distant part of my mind, I register that this is a first for him too. My orgasm is swift and powerful and I open my eyes just long enough to see the triumph on Peeta’s face. He then raises himself and comes forward to kiss me on the lips. I taste myself on him and I like it. I eagerly wrap my legs around his back to invite him in. As we move together in unison, it’s like the best homecoming conceivable. After, he kisses me tenderly and, wrapped in each other’s arms and without one word said, we sleep. Next morning, I wake to the uncomfortable sensation of a full bladder and something heavy pressing against it. Peeta is lying on his side, his head on my shoulder and an arm draped over my hip. He’s fast asleep. I carefully remove his arm so as not to disturb him. He grunts a little and then settles on to his back. Satisfied he hasn’t woken, I hurry to the bathroom to relieve myself. At the washbasin mirror, I take in my dishevelled appearance. My braid has come undone during the night and my hair is a long, tangled mess. I try to see if there’s anything different in my face, but it’s the same Katniss Everdeen I see in the mirror every day. It’s strange that it doesn’t show, this newfound confidence I have. Max was right, to a point. Sex is just practice, but it’s also involves a little risk taking and willingness to venture outside one’s comfort zone. That joke about stiff jaws will never bother me again. Sore cheeks, more like. And to think I had surpassed Lace in the bedroom. Or, at least, in the oral sex department. It occurred to me that what I imagined wasn’t nearly as bad as the reality. I thought of them as having unbridled sex around the clock but maybe it wasn’t so. When I think on it, Lace definitely came across as affectionate rather than sexual with her cheek caresses and lingering looks; just the thing to snare an affection needy Peeta. Perhaps they had what Max calls “vanilla” sex. Well, Peeta is going to get more than soft serve from me. He’s going to get every flavour in the ice-cream parlour. When I go back into the bedroom, Peeta is still on his back and sound asleep. There is something a little different though. There’s a definite bulge under the sheets where his groin is. I know this is an occurrence that young men commonly have while they sleep. In fact, I was aware of it when Peeta and I slept together on the train. Peeta did his best to hide it, and I did my best to ignore it. But today, I think I’ll do something about it. I pull my nightgown over my head and let it fall to the floor. No more nakedness issues from me. Very carefully, I pull the sheet away and Peeta’s erection springs free in all its glory. Kneeling beside him on the bed, I dangle my hair over it and slowly move my head to and fro so that it gently caresses his dick. (Hooray, I said dick. Or is cock better? Never mind, dick will do for now.) He moans and his dick twitches. I continue my onslaught but it gets uncomfortable sitting back on my haunches so I straddle him backwards, up on my knees, my head over his groin, hair softly swaying. Without warning, a finger runs the length of my slit and now it’s me who’s under assault. Tiny circles are drawn at the top of it and I feel my legs start to buckle as an orgasm builds. I don’t think I can stay upright so I swiftly turn around, grasp his dick and slowly lower myself onto it. I dare to look at Peeta’s face and keep my eyes locked on his as I grind and rock against him. I notice that if I squeeze my inside muscles, the sensations are more intense. Peeta likes it too, if the increased upward thrusts of his pelvis are an indication. Peeta puts his thumb where his finger had been and I soon climax in great rippling waves. I barely have time to process it before Peeta performs one of his wrestling moves and I’m on my back and he’s on top. In a few strong thrusts Peeta comes too. He collapses on to my chest and then rolls off to lie close to my side, up on one elbow. He looks down on me with a bemused expression. “What have you done with pure Katniss Everdeen?” he asks.

I smile smugly. “She never existed. Wanton Katniss Everdeen was just waiting to get out. She fooled everyone. Even me.” “She certainly fooled me. I hope I can keep up.” I reach up to push away a stray curl. “Don’t worry, you will. ” _____________________________________________________

Peeta and I stand before my newly painted front door. It’s time for the “big reveal”. “I don’t know why this had to be a big secret,” he grumbles. “You’ll see.” I turn the doorknob and enter. Peeta follows me in. The front rooms are essentially unchanged except for fresh paint and new light fittings. It’s the kitchen I want him to see. It’s been enlarged and completely overhauled. The appliances are state of the art with four ovens, including the same kind Peeta had specially installed in his own kitchen. There’s even a small room off it called a butler’s pantry that Mr Brady said was the latest thing and a boon to keen cooks. It sounded pretentious to me, but if it’s the latest thing, then I want Peeta to have it. Peeta runs his fingers along the marble top of the island bench (ideal for pastry according to Mr Brady). “Impressive, “is all he has to say. We move to the rear of the house. The porch has been widened and extended outward. It should be great for entertaining or simply to take in the sunset. I point out the spot where I plan to install a swimming pool. And then we briefly survey the mud room. That’s for me. I wanted a place to change out of my muddy boots and store my hunting equipment. We go upstairs. Like the front downstairs rooms, it’s mostly a matter of fresh paint. The bathrooms have been renovated though. I made sure that they were easy for someone with a disability to use, without it being obvious that’s what it was designed for. The bedroom that overlooks the back garden is what I’m most nervous about showing him. It was Prim’s room, untouched since her death, but I’m sure she would approve of its new use. The carpet has been replaced with bare polished boards and the built-in robes have been modified to include shelves and drawers. A skylight floods the room with natural light. And if it isn’t obvious what the room’s purpose is, the large easel surrounded by canvases of varying sizes should leave no room for doubt. Peeta hasn’t said anything. This flummoxes me. I was expecting admiration, or surprise, or something. But then it occurs to me that he’s waiting for me to speak first. Suddenly, I’m afraid. What if he doesn’t like it, or he thinks I’m terribly presumptuous. It’s not like I asked him about any of this.

“I thought, perhaps, that this could be our home. That we could live together, all the time. I should have asked you first, I guess. You might have preferred your own house. But this is where the primroses are planted and you know how cats hate to move. You don’t mind, do you?”

Peeta shakes his head. “I can’t do it, Katniss.” My stomach sinks. “But why? I thought you liked us being together. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can change it.” “The house is perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s just that I have to think of my reputation. I can’t just move in with you. This isn’t the Capitol where unmarried cohabiting couples are common. There’s nothing else for it. You’ll have to marry me first.” I’m speechless with surprise. I scan his face looking for any sign that this is joke. But while his expression is good humoured and kind like always, he’s also deadly serious. “Ah, um, is that a proposal?”

Peeta’s arms go around me. “Most definitely.” “Are you sure?” After the disaster of his last engagement, I was certain it would be a long time before Peeta contemplated marriage again. “Sure, I’m sure. I’ve wanted to marry you since I was six years old.” “And you won’t move in with me until I do?” “No.” I rest my forehead against his chest to think about it. Marriage has never been a priority for me. Indeed, at sixteen I wanted nothing to do with it. But, if I’m honest with myself, isn’t it something I saw myself doing eventually at some vague, shadowy time in the future? Rather like the room I recently thought would make an ideal nursery. My mind suddenly clears, and the decision is easy. Whether I marry Peeta now or several months from now, I know it would have happened anyway.

“Yes.” “Did you just agree to marry me?” A big smile splits Peeta’s face. “I did.” Peeta leans forward to kiss me but I put up hand to stop him. “On one condition. I don’t want any fuss with wedding dresses, or wedding receptions or any of that palaver. “ “You get no argument from me.” And then his lips are on mine and we seal the deal with a kiss.

“I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve you,” Peeta tells me when our lips eventually part. There is only one response to that. “I know.”

______________________________________________________________ At nine am on a beautiful spring day, Peeta and I arrive at the Justice building to register our marriage. After signing the requisite forms, we pay the fee and the matter is done. Then we go home. I had a bonanza hunt the day before and the wild turkeys are roasting nicely in the new ovens. Peeta has prepared an assortment of side dishes but the piece de resistance is the wedding cake. It was my only concession to a formal wedding and I can’t deny that Peeta has done a magnificent job on it. At approximately 12 pm, our guests start to arrive. Haymitch is first and heads straight for the liquid refreshments. He says it’s never too soon to start toasting the happy couple. Effie arrives right on time and insists on a tour of the house. She enthuses over the improvements and congratulates me on having the latest “must have”. I think she refers to the butler’s pantry but I’m soon surprised to discover that it’s the mud room that has earned her approval. Apparently, anyone who is anyone in the Capitol is either having one built onto their home or converting an existing room for the purpose. You can trust the Capitol to make a “must-have” out of something they have no real use for. The Matsons arrive together. Max has a new girlfriend. She’s a giggler so I hope for the sake of Max’s sex life that he was wrong about them. Max, who keeps me informed of the gossip around town that I seem to miss, tells me that Lace was seen licking ice-cream off the face of the new tailor in town. The tailor was enthralled it seems, although Max says he’d rather have Lace’s dog licking ice-cream off him than Lace. I think that’s a bit harsh, but I can’t complain that Max is a loyal friend who always takes my side. I’m happy for Lace though. Peeta will be too. Thom and Bristol, Peeta’s co-workers at the library, are here with their partners. And running just a little late is Delly with her fiancé, Davis. Delly wants to return to District 12 to live but is having trouble finding a house. Peeta and I swap glances. We know of a house that’s available. I know how much Peeta misses his childhood friend and, for myself, I like Delly. She has the open friendliness of Lace but without being cloying. Best of all, she has no designs on Peeta. But there’s a special guest who is yet to arrive. The lateness is not unexpected as the train service from District 4 is notoriously unreliable. It’s almost 1pm when she enters the house she hasn’t seen in almost five years. The years haven’t been kind to her, there’s been too many deaths, too much hardship, but she looks well nonetheless. It’s taken a great deal of courage to come. She feared her depression could be triggered by reminders of the past, but she was reassured that so much had changed, it wasn’t likely. My mother and I hold each for a long moment. We haven’t had the closest mother-daughter relationship but we still share a deep bond and I’m very happy to have her with me today. Later, our guests retire to their homes. Or, in the case of those who don’t live nearby, comfortably ensconced in Peeta’s former home across the street. That leaves Peeta and me alone to enjoy our first evening together as husband and wife. We sit on the porch to watch the setting sun. On the kitchen bench is a fruit and nut loaf, freshly baked this morning. Soon we’ll go indoors, light a fire, toast the bread and feed it to each other. But now, in the quiet and stillness of the evening, an overwhelming sadness takes hold. The day has been so full that I had little time to think of the beloved sister who wasn’t here to share this day with me. Peeta holds me close. He knows without words. I’m reminded of our time in the cave when I lay in his arms in our shared sleeping bag and I had never felt so safe and protected. Then, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him, but today I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. “I love you, Peeta.” Peeta presses a kiss to my temple. “I love you, too. Let’s go inside. We have a toasting to go to.”

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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Hey there! Sorry for the delay, I was running everywhere yesterday! Okaaaay so, are you reaaaady ? Let me know your thoughts!

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23. Twenty-eight Weeks

It was uncanny how the woods hadn’t changed.

When they had first come back to Twelve, everything had been in ruins and Haymitch hadn’t been able to breathe properly. He remembered feeling stunned and almost shocked that Katniss could walk among the rubble without flinching every two steps – although Katniss had been back twice before that when he had carefully avoided looking at any picture of the destroyed District. He remembered thinking he had been sentenced to hell once more and thus he had locked himself again in that tomb of a house, devoid of any hope for a better life.

He had had plenty of hopes before the end of Katniss’ trial, before her mother had run and they had been short of a guardian, before he had stood up and volunteered because he was the only one of the three of them who hadn’t yet. He had been thinking about moving somewhere else, somewhere new, where new beginnings would have been possible. Wherever Effie wanted, really, because at that point he had stopped deluding himself into thinking he didn’t want her to feature in his life. Wherever the kids would have liked because there was no way he would have left them behind.

Twelve…

Twelve had never been on the table for him.

However, after the few first horrendous weeks, after the first couple of months… Twelve had risen from its ashes, the same in many ways but different in enough of others that Haymitch had finally felt comfortable venturing. The District was completely different from before, now. More modern despite what Effie’s mother had to say about it, crammed with shops nobody needed, no longer the poorest in Panem or, at least, not so visibly that people were starving in the streets…

It was actually a nice place to live nowadays and, sometimes, not often but sometimes, he even forgot that it hadn’t always been that way. It looked like that somewhere else he had vaguely let himself dream about, somewhere new.

But the woods were exactly the same as in his youth, untouched by the war and the Capitol’s chemical fire, and the more he roamed them, the more difficult it became to leave the past behind. And yet he came back every day under the pretence of walking the dog who quite enjoyed the trek, running around and barking, exhausting himself enough that he wouldn’t be restless in the house…

Haymitch had been returning to the woods every morning for close to a week and he stuck to them most of the day, simply walking around at random – or seemingly at random because there was the clearing where he used to meet Mabel, there was the lake where he and his friends swam in, here and there were his favorite spots for snares, and finally where the forest met the old mine, there was where the electrical fence used to stand and where they used to sneak out…

He didn’t know what he was trying to achieve by revisiting those memories every day because they hurt, each and every one of them. He had long buried the torch he had carried for his girlfriend, accepted that although he had clung to the idea of a lifelong love as much as he could, he had only been sixteen and chances were things would have been very different in the long run. He would forever feel guilty about her death because it had been senseless and his fault, his love for her alone had been a death sentence. Thinking about Mabel still hurt because of the pointlessness of it all. Thinking about the friends he used to spend his days with also hurt because, aside from Hazelle, most of them were dead. Thinking about his brother…

He whistled because Snowball had disappeared between two dead bushes five minutes earlier and he couldn’t see the puppy anymore. He was hard to spot in the snow that still covered the ground. The weather wasn’t so bad for early February, he was ready to bet there would be more snow coming down but, for now, the thick coat had finally thinned and they had cleared the roads enough that Effie could reach the town if she was motivated enough to attempt the walk.

She was starting to waddle – not that he would tell her that. Or anything, lately.

He hadn’t visited the town in a week, not since he had found her in the attic, rummaging in boxes that should have remained closed. The bar was a little too attractive. He had taken the piss that night, when she had asked if he had drunk, but the truth of the matter was: he had gone in and by the force of habits had ordered a glass of whiskey.

He had stared at that glass for hours.

It had been untouched when he had stood up and left.

He didn’t feel particularly proud about it, not when the thirst was stronger than ever. He had finished the treatment Larcher had prescribed him so perhaps it was the reason why… Perhaps without the help of the pills he had dutifully been swallowing for the last couple of months he wasn’t strong enough not to yearn for alcohol at every waking moment. Or perhaps it was what lurked in the attic that had him drifting…

Effie had gone back up.

She had done it when he hadn’t been home but he knew. He could tell. He could always tell when she was plotting something.

He reached the lake and sat down on a mostly snow-free boulder, watching the glimmering ice without truly seeing it. Snowball brought him a big heavy stick and they played tug, then fetch. The puppy was having a grand time. Haymitch was distracted.

He wasn’t exactly surprised to see Katniss emerge from between two trees after a while. There wasn’t much game to catch those days, although she always managed a few squirrels, but she needed the daily moments of solitude almost as much as he craved them lately.

“Looking for me?” he asked because that had happened a few times over the last week. Katniss tracking him down in the woods or Peeta making sure he wasn’t dropping drunk dead somewhere… Effie had been very good at not pushing his boundaries and respecting the fact he wanted space – then again, she had always been good at knowing when to insist and when to retreat with him – but the kids didn’t get it.

The girl’s mouth was set in a serious line as she came closer, barely stopping to awkwardly pat the dog on the head – she wasn’t fond of Snowball, he reminded her too much of the mutts that had appeared at the end of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games – and he knew she was done humoring him.

Hell, he had lasted eight days without anyone trying to pressure him, it was more than he had thought he would have.

“What’s going on with you and Effie?” she asked, never one to choose diplomacy over efficiency.

“None of your business.” he spat.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. He tried not to notice she was wearing the green scarf Effie had knitted for her… “You’re not going to bolt, are you? Because too late, Haymitch. You made your choice. You told her you wanted the kid, you don’t get to change your mind now. I won’t let you. Parents should always stick with their children.”

Her little speech started firm but ended up pained and he sighed, rubbing his eyes, wondering why he always had to make a mess of everything. “I did a lot of shit, sweetheart, but I always stuck with you and the boy. Don’t drop other people’s mistakes on me. That’s not fair.”

“We’re not talking about me.” Katniss argued, harshly enough that Snowball let out a small warning growl.

Haymitch tossed the stick if only to keep the overprotective puppy occupied.

“Aren’t we always?” he snorted.

“You’re being an ass.” she snapped. “You’ve been an ass for a week. To me, to Peeta and to Effie. She’s carrying your kid. It means nothing to you?”

You knew things were bad when Katniss Everdeen took the champion’s mantle for Effie Trinket…

“I want a drink.” he admitted. “Badly.”

That shut her up, at least.

Katniss hesitated and then joined him on the boulder, not offering any of the platitudes someone else would have. Reassurances, encouragements… The girl didn’t know how to do that so she simply sat there, her side pressed against his in a not so subtle reminder that she was there, and she watched him play with his dog, lost in her own thoughts.

They remained like that for the longest time.

He was relieved not to have to explain himself. Peeta had been probing the issue without really voicing his concerns. Katniss understood him in ways the boys didn’t though, which was why he found himself talking in the end.

“I’ve got stuff in my attic.” he said, at last. And wasn’t that just the best metaphor. “Stuff from… before. I used to cram boxes up there every year when the Games were still on. I never even really went up all the way, I just pushed the boxes up there and forgot about them.”

“What’s in the boxes?” Katniss frowned.

“Leftover clothes from the season that were too fancy to wear around Twelve.” he shrugged. “Some pictures, I guess… A few magazines… Any reminder, really…”

He didn’t even know why he had kept all the stuff in the first place instead of just dumping it in the bin. He had stocked the clothes because there had never been enough of them in his youth and it seemed almost criminal to him to toss perfectly good fabric away when people were dying of exposure in the Seam – he would never have been able to just give them away, the Capitol would have frown on that but just dumping them in the trash had been out of the question, just like wasting food would have been. There had been less items he truly didn’t want after Effie had come on board anyway. She had a knack to dress him the way he liked and the boxes from her years mostly contained suits and mementoes.

Those were the things he had never quite been able to explain to himself. There were a few promo pictures from Twelve’s team, stuff he had been given and had usually buried at the bottom of his luggage, out of sight out of mind, until he had found them while unpacking. He had burn them in the beginning but with the years… Photoshoots had never been something he enjoyed but Effie had made it fun, some of those were actually good. There were more genuine pictures too… Of him with the other victors, either at Games events or in the privacy of one of their apartment in the Center… Of him with Effie… He was sure there was a stack of Polaroid somewhere on which she wasn’t wearing much if anything at all…

The people on those pictures, they had been having a good time. It was usually why you took pictures, to remember the good times. And every time he had come back to Twelve, to the overwhelming misery, to the reality of two more dead kids he somehow always managed to push at the back of his mind with booze, women or friendly company while in the Capitol… He had felt ashamed. So the pictures had ended up in the boxes. Out of sight.

“Okay.” Katniss nodded as if it made sense. And, to her, it probably did.

“There’s stuff from my old house too.” He rushed the words out, as if he was tearing off a particularly resistant band-aid. “Effie found that.”

“And you’re mad because she looked at it?” she asked in a knowing voice. He remembered the stuff she had been carrying everywhere from Twelve to Thirteen to the Capitol and back. The picture of her father, his jacket, the pearl Peeta had given her, the pin… She understood clinging to things like talismans.

Peeta had kept nothing from before.

Effie had lost almost all her belongings but she was the kind who dutifully kept everything from a movie ticket to beads he had won at a poker game and had tossed at her just to shut her up. She was a collector. Everything and nothing, every little thing.

Haymitch didn’t consider himself to be a nostalgic person but he still wore the battered golden bangle despite the weird looks people had tossed him at first. The bangle was his token. It had been a reminder during those months in Thirteen that she was out there, somewhere, and he needed to find her. Wearing it had been a promise to himself.

Some objects were more precious than others.

Others though…

“I forgot it was there.” he said and it was the crux of the matter, really.

He had forgotten. He had thought he had put his family to rest. He had bought geese because it had been Hayden’s dream to have a farm. He had planted irises for her mother, to remember her by because the graveyard was gone, destroyed in the bombings. He had find stability with the kids, had opened his door to Effie, had settled in this new family unit and, later, had even felt confident they could add a baby to the mix with relative safety.

He had thought the grieving process was finally over. And then he had climbed up to the attic in search of her, grumbling under his breath about ladders and potential accidents, only to be confronted with a past he had completely forgotten he had stashed there.

“I miss Prim.” Katniss confessed after a long moment of silence. “Every day, I miss her. It’s never going to go away.”

“No.” he confirmed. Because he still missed them. Hayden, his mother… His girl too. Chaff, Finnick, Mags… The list went on and on…

“But sometimes I forget.” she whispered, looking down at her feet. “Sometimes I’m happy and I forget I miss her. It makes me feel terrible but then I realize… She wouldn’t want me to be miserable so… I think it’s okay if I forget from time to time. Doctor Aurelius says it doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving her, that it doesn’t mean I will forget her for good.” She shrugged and grabbed his hand, squeezing once before letting go. “I don’t think it means you forgot them for good, Haymitch. It doesn’t mean you’re replacing them.”

Hadn’t he, though? Replaced his dead family with a brand new breathing one?

He snorted and shook his head. His mother would have whacked him at the back of the skull so hard for even thinking that way…

“It’s the only thing that matters.” he mumbled awkwardly. “Family.”

“Yeah.” she agreed without any embarrassment. “You should never turn your back on them, never give up on them, never leave…”

“I ain’t going to leave my kid.” he growled. He wasn’t his father. He wouldn’t just abandon them and run away because he was too much of a coward to face his life, no matter how difficult. “Any of my kids.”

“I know.” she said, matter of fact. “I trust you to never leave. You’re the only one who never did.”

“Sweetheart…” Her mother’s defection still hurt her and their contacts were seriously limited to a phone call every six months as far as he knew. She hadn’t forgiven her and, to be honest, neither had he nor Effie. He wasn’t sure what to answer to that so he threw caution to the wind and simply hugged her. They didn’t do that often and it was always special.

She hugged back for dear life and he heard a suspicious sniff but when she talked her voice was steady. “You’re a great dad, Haymitch. You’ll be fine.” She drew back and punched his shoulder. “But you should stop acting like a jerk and go home now. And tell her about the drinking thing… It’s Effie, she’ll get it. Maybe she can help distract you or… whatever.”

Distract him would involve fewer clothes and a lot less pregnant stomach but he didn’t think Katniss meant it in that sense anyway.

“Yeah.” he sighed. He supposed he had brooded enough. He had been in and out of the house for days now, barely talking to her at all… It wasn’t fair on her.

They walked back to the Village together, mostly in silence, both of them dealing with their own ghosts.

She spotted the car first. It was hard to miss, neatly parked in front of his house as it was. “Why’s the doctor here?”

Haymitch’s blood ran cold and he rushed inside, dashed straight to the living-room where she was lying on her side on the couch, awfully pale, with Peeta perched on the armrest behind her head and Larcher packing up his medical bag. Everyone looked at him but he only looked at her, wide eyes, heart hammering in his chest.

“I am fine.” she said immediately. “It was nothing. Peeta was just overcautious.”

“You fainted.” the boy protested, almost accusatory.

“I didn’t faint, I was simply dizzy.” she argued.

“It was just some hypoglycemia.” Larcher confirmed. “Nothing a hot chocolate didn’t fix. Now, Effie, try to take it easy today.”

“It won’t be difficult, I am exhausted.” she grumbled.

And for the first time in days, Haymitch noticed the dark bags under her eyes. He knew she hadn’t been sleeping well because on the rare nights he had consented to go to bed with her she had tossed and turned for hours. But sleep had evaded him as well since the attic and he had spent most nights in the living-room, trying to focus on a book or staring at the fire to resist the temptation of getting wasted enough to close his eyes without having nightmares.

He waited until Larcher was gone to kneel next to the couch, barely noticing Katniss gesturing at Peeta to come with her – and away from the house, he assumed. He pressed a kiss on her stomach first and on her lips next.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled.

He expected some anger because it was Effie – and if Effie was forgiving she also liked to make him grovel for it – but she simply looked relieved.

“You should not have shut me out.” she chided him gently but without heat, cupping his cheek, her thumb running on his bottom lip.

“I know.” he admitted, pressing a kiss against the pad of her thumb. “I just… It got too much.”

He sat down with a sigh and let his head fall on the couch, in the curve between her breasts and her belly.

“Do you mean us?” she asked uncertainly, her hand falling on his shoulder.

He entwined their fingers. “Never us, Princess.”

They were too much. Had always been too much. Together, they were like an inferno and it sometimes felt like more than he could handle. But it had been years since he had thought they were a bad idea. They were complicated. But he had told her once and he still meant it: good things sometimes came out of complicated.

“You have been struggling.” she pointed out cautiously, clearly afraid he would get mad again. He had no energy left in him to get mad. “With the drinking.”

“Yeah.” he admitted, his voice more fragile than he would have liked. “Haven’t touched booze though. I won’t.” That promise was fierce, it was directed not to only to himself but to her and to their baby. “Don’t worry.”

“Of course, I worry.” she sighed. “But I do not worry about the drinking, I worry about you. Haymitch, I am…”

“Don’t say you’re sorry again.” he cut her off. “Wasn’t your fault. This is your fucking house, there’s no out of bounds room. I was just…” He let that sentence trail off. Staring at the ceiling instead of looking at her. “Just… One moment we were there, getting ready for the shrimp and everything was… Good… And the next… I forgot all that stuff was up there.. The furniture… The ashes… I forgot. And then it hit me that… I can picture what our kid will look like, I can picture him so fucking well, sweetheart… Down to the dimples… But my mom and my baby brother… I can’t remember their faces, their features…”

He felt her fingers slowly running in his hair and he closed his eyes, letting the familiar gut wrenching sorrow wash over him. He clenched his jaw and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“You do not have any picture?” she asked softly.

He shook his head once in denial. “The only one burned. I’ve been trying… I’ve been trying so fucking hard to remember…”

His voice broke and he bit down on the inside of his cheek, keeping himself together by sheer force of will only.

“Oh, my darling…. It is alright…” she breathed out, wriggling on the couch to push herself up.

He wanted to tell her not to move because she needed to rest but then she awkwardly hugged his shoulders from behind. Her stomach was in the way and she grew frustrated enough that she pulled on his arm until he consented to haul himself off the floor to sit with her. Then she draped herself over him, crawling on his lap, because, pregnant or not, hugging was her favorite form of comforting.

A part of him bristled at this open show of weakness, another part simply marveled he could be so open with anyone after everything. But it was Effie. And Effie had been with him for almost sixteen years. She had seen the good and the bad. She had been there for most of it.

They were intimately acquainted with each other’s demons.

“You’re heavy.” he complained for the sake of it.

She laughed but there were tears in her eyes that she hastily blinked away. She kissed his cheek and then his mouth, a peck that was far from innocent and that went a long way in making him feel better. His first instinct when he was hurt was always to seek a lonely place but it was always her touch that ended up soothing him.

“We will take thousands of pictures.” she declared, resting her forehead against his. “We will record every moment for him, for when he is older.”

He nodded his assent, his hands gently rubbing her back. “You’ve been cleaning up there.”

He felt her hesitation but she didn’t try to lie.

“I sorted the boxes that did not seem to have sentimental value.” she explained. “There is no use keeping clothes that we could give to some charities… I made bags if you want to go through them.”

“No, it’s fine.” he shrugged. “They were up there ‘cause I didn’t want them.” He took a deep breath. “I should probably get rid of the rest…”

“It is a big attic.” she argued. “There is no need for hasty decisions.”

“It’s nothing but junk.” he scoffed.

“It is all you have left.” she whispered. “It is alright to want to keep it. It does not even take that much room… Leave it there. Who knows… Perhaps you will want to show it to our son someday…”

“Nice depressing talks you see us having.” he chuckled bitterly, but her offer was more than tempting and thus he dropped the matter, tugging a little on her low ponytail. “How come you were dizzy? You skipped breakfast?”

“Nothing appealed to me so I simply had a toast.” she pouted. “I really wanted scrambled eggs but we didn’t have any in the fridge and I was not sure I could manage without burning the whole house anyway so it did not seem worth it to brave your birds.”

“We don’t have eggs ‘cause you’ve been puking at the sight of them for months.” he mocked. She pouted deeper and he snorted. “You still want scrambled eggs?”

She flashed him a beaming smile and he shook his head at those weird cravings of hers. He was mostly grateful it had hit her late because he wasn’t sure he could have taken nine of months of requesting strange food at every hour of the day.

“Do we have bacon?” she asked hopefully.

“Think so.” he shrugged, nudging her off his lap – with some relief because she really was heavy. “Lie down for a bit, yeah?”

“If that was that easy.” she huffed. “I haven’t been able to find a comfortable position in days. I am too big!”

“You’re beautiful.” he countered automatically.

She tossed him a dark knowing look that he chose to ignore in favor of getting her food ready. He made two plates, figuring they might as well have an early lunch. She was lying on her side again when he came back, propped on pillows, Snowball spread over her feet, and she was still pouting.

“I cannot take two more months of this.” she told him. “My back aches, my ankles are swollen and I cannot for the life of me get comfortable… My clothes are too tight again. Those pregnancy pants are supposed to be stretchy. Why are they not stretchy? I would get naked if it wasn’t so cold.” A naked Effie was never a bad thing and he smirked but, clearly, it wasn’t the right reaction. “Oh, do not get any idea… I am too big for that.”

“Never back down from a challenge, sweetheart.” he teased, handing her a plate. “Here, get some food into you.”

She sat up to grab it, disturbing the puppy who grumbled but hopped down to the safety of his own bed where nobody would annoy him, and she eagerly planted her fork in the eggs. She brought it to her lips and immediately dropped it without even placing it in her mouth.

He watched as she turned green and he snatched the plate back, hurrying to dispose of the eggs. He came back with more crispy bacon and some warmed up fish leftover they had had for dinner the previous night.

“I like eggs.” she whined, accepting the new plate.

“I know.” he sighed.

“Your shrimp is a pain.” she hissed, ignoring the fish to pounce on the bacon.

“Our shrimp.” he corrected, tossing a piece of bacon to Snowball who was suddenly less interested in sleeping. “But, yeah. Probably.”

With the two of them as his parents…

What else was she expecting?

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

Spreading Christmas Cheer

Author: @mega-aulover

Prompt: Everlark the movie Elf [submitted by @alliswell21]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: This is a story based off of the movie Elf as requested by @alliswell21 It’s from “Jovie” i.e. Katniss POV, what she would have seen and fell in love with one Peeta ‘Buddy’ Mellark.

Special thanks to @norbertsmom for her betaing skill and for the name of the story. Parts 3 and 4 will post separately.

_____________

Pt 1

I watch Peeta gently kiss the top of our first born’s head. Holly’s dark hair is braided into two plaits; her blue eyes closing softly.

“And Papa Elf said, grandpa was on the naughty list…” his voice is soft.

Suddenly Holly’s eyes widen as she remembers something. Her blue eyes are laser focused on Peeta. “Papá, es verdad que mamá estaba en la lista de los niños malos?”

“Y quien te dijo esto?” I ask from the door. We never discuss my role in Peeta’s adventure, or the fact that I was on the naughty list. Ever.

“Santa,” Holly says.

Ese gordo, Santa has loose lips. I think about teaching him about keeping secrets until it’s time to explain to our child about the past. But before I can say anything, Peeta gives me a look. He always knows when I’m having evil thoughts. I sigh, and redirect my thoughts, because Peeta made me believe in love, joy, and Christmas.

“Your papa saved more than grandpa that Christmas. He saved me too.”

Holly’s eyes lit up like her father’s before the sleepiness creeps back into their depths.

“Now go to sleep so Santa can come down the chimney.”

“Night, mama, night papa,” Holly whispers right before she drifts off to sleep.

Together we walk out of our daughters bedroom. Peeta slides an arm around my shoulders. He dips down and nuzzles my cheek. He steers me to the living room. I drag my feet. Peeta is up to something.

“Okay, spill it, Mellark.”

He gives me a wide eyed smile.

The hair at the back of my neck stands up straight.

He’s got that look, that please tell me a bedtime story stare, and not just any story.

“No.”

Peeta pauses and gives me a puppy dog look with a full lip pout.

“No.”

“Come on, Sweetums, my li’l sugar plum,” Peeta says in an excited whisper.

“No…no don’t waggle your eyebrows at me, Peeta. Buddy. Mellark.” I pronounce each one of his names.

Peeta’s grins so brightly; his eyes shine brighter than Christmas lights. His hat is slightly crooked as he hops and does that stupid little dance of his that makes me want to tear off his green tights. Yep, I said tights. My husband was raised as an elf, a six foot two, blond, wavy haired, giant with broad shoulders, washboard abs, and is genuinely sweet. Sweeter than eggnog.

He grabs me by the waist. “You know you wanna,” he says in that sexy time voice of his that’s reserved only for me.

Canasto!

I should clarify for everyone listening to my tale; you should know canasto isn’t a vulgar or bad word. It means basket. But I like the way it sounds in Spanish. So I say it with real vehemence. It’s like peaches in Spanish sounds like a curse word. Melocotón! Tu eres un Melocotón! Which translates into you’re a peach.

I digress.

I let out a big sigh. There’s no way I can say no to him and he knows it! Canasto!

“I love it when you tell the story of how we met from your point of view.“

"You’re an evil gremlin,” I say with no heat in my voice. It’s my personal nickname for him. As in the gremlins when they ate after midnight. However to be fair, if you see Peeta, he’s not scary at all, he’s more like a big teddy bear.

Peeta laughs and my heart flip flops. Because he is anything but; he is so congenial.

Peeta puts his hands on my belly, my very big belly. It’s baby number 2; actually it’s baby number two and three. They are counted as one until they’re born. I know what he’s doing, the evil gremlin! He’s trying to distract me because I’m due to give birth. I have mild pangs because I’m carrying twins and I’m nearing my due date.

He carries me and sits me on his lap. “Now start from the beginning.”

“From the candy cane forest?” I ask.

“No from your point of view,” his eyes dance gently as he rests me against his chest, rubbing my bulging belly.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

“Don’t forget to start with once upon a time,” Peeta insists, trying to contain his excitement.

“Once upon a time.”

“This is going to be good,” Peeta whispers.

“Are you going to let me tell the story?”

“Oh yea,” Peeta placed a kiss on my nose. “Go ahead.”

Closing my eyes I picture the year things changed. Because everything in my life was about others and never myself. I was always trying to be someone else, what everyone expected of me.

It’s hard being a foster kid, and getting out of the system is kind of like getting out of jail. Suddenly you have all this freedom, but you’ve been conditioned to follow all of these rules, so when you are free, you do one of two things. You get in trouble, and try to get sent into an institution; some of us call it the iron college. Or you try to keep your nose clean and learn in the school of hard knocks. In my case, I kept my head above the water for my sister’s sake.

“I love my family,” I muttered underneath my breath.

I muttered it again as my sister destroyed, no scratch that, mutilated Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas."

Did I forget to mention that I love my family?

I do. I love my family and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them, but at that moment I wanted to scratch my ears out with dull spoons.

My perfect baby sister is a smoking hot blonde runway model and the muse for Karl Lagerfeld, but she has the worst singing voice known to man. You want to torture someone, hire my sister, and have her sing to the person you want to torture. Within 3 seconds flat, she can have even the most hardened of spies spilling their guts like a canary.

The one thing I could not stand beside my sister’s singing was Christmas.

I loathed Christmas.

I was not ashamed to say it. Every fiber of my body I hated Christmas! If I had ever met the real Santa back then, he had better hoped that I was not holding my bow and arrow, because I would have shot him through the eye. Not that I believed in Santa then, but if I had known there was a real life Santa Claus, I’d have hunted him down, and burned the fat man’s jolly red outfit. I would then gleefully take a joy ride in his sleigh into his workshop like Bill Murray did in Groundhog Day when he allowed the groundhog to drive him off the cliff into a fiery death.

At this point you are wondering why I hated Christmas so much.

There were many reasons why the holiday was so contemptible to me. One, my father died on Christmas day. Two, my mother checked out on us that same Christmas day. The next Christmas Eve was when my sister and I were separated into different foster homes. It took me a few months to find my six-year-old baby sister. I had been sent to a foster family who used foster kids for slave labor, to have them wipe and clean their floors while the Mrs. of the family spent the whole day in luxurious spas and getting Botox treatments, as if that was going to improve her mug.

My baby sister was luckier. Primrose was placed in a foster home in the middle of suburbia with a 2 story house with a picket fence. A woman named Cecilia and her husband Ronald had never been able to have kids, and they doted on my sister. They brought her up to be the princess she always said she was. Honestly, they were rather shocked when my twelve-year-old cynical self rolled up into their home screaming for my baby sister, Primrose. Prim came running out of nowhere and latched herself on to my leg like an octopus. Best Spring ever, so I do love the Spring.

But before you think we were reunited, we weren’t. The family that had Primrose never wanted me. And even if they did, we technically didn’t have the same last name. Primrose carried my mom’s last name while I carried my dad’s. My sister was Primrose Emmerson and I was Katniss Everdeen. Our parents had a silly agreement. They were also foster kids, so they decided that I would take dad’s name and the next one born would take our mothers name.

They didn’t have family, and her parents lived a common law marriage. Their childish decision caused havoc. There was a mix up and we weren’t processed as sisters. Plus, I never stayed in the same foster home for long so even if they wanted me, they never knew where I was, but no matter where I was, I found a way to talk to Primrose, because as long as Prim was loved and cared for, my situation didn’t matter.

After our brief reunion, I had to go back to the family that I was placed in, and my sister stayed with her family. I didn’t stay with mine for very long; I became a statistic. A rolling number on someone’s computer screen. I was bounced around from one family to another in all sorts of seedy homes.

So you can see why I’m so jaded. Every bad thing that ever happened to me, has happened on that freakin’ holiday. And there was one more reason I disliked that holly jolly holiday so immensely. For some reason, the universe hated me.

No matter where I went, what city, what town within the state, I could guarantee you that it was a racket, a billion dollar racket to make parents crazy and buy things for their kids they didn’t need. For some reason, it pleased people to take my olive skin, dark hair, scowling self and put me into a sparkly Christmas cheer, “gag” pointy eared elf costume.

So with a week until Christmas, I was listening to my sister butcher another holiday favorite song. Then Prim screeched. And I sighed in relief.

"Katniss,” Prim said, coming out of the bathroom. “The water is cold!”

I looked heavenward. “The pipes. I forgot they’re working on the water main outside. They said there would be interruption to service.”

“Oh, you know I can get us a hotel room,” Prim said toweling dry her pale blonde locks.

My studio apartment wasn’t what my sister was used to. She was a freaking couture runway model, six foot one, so slim nothing off the rack fit her. “I’m sorry Prim, I was so excited to see you.”

Prim smiled. “Look, I only have a few hours left. How about I treat you to lunch before I go back up to Connecticut to spend Christmas with Cecillia and Ron.” Prim smiled at me. “You know you’re more than welcome to come. They always ask about you.”

I loved my baby sister. She was amazing. And I was damned glad that the Henderson's were an amazing couple, but I knew the score. They didn’t know what to do with me. “As long as you don’t mind me wearing my elf costume.”

Primrose chuckled. “You make the cutest elf though.” She patted me on the head using a baby tone with me. Prim was taller than me by a foot. I was tiny, or as Prim said, compact size.

“I could still put you over my knee, little duck,” I growled. “Así que mira ver.”

My sister laughed and she delighted in taunting me. Prim no longer spoke Spanish, but she understood the language. “You’re adorable when you’re angry, an angry little elf, aren’t you?”

“Primrose,” I said in Spanish. I rounded my ‘r’s’ when I said her name.

“Awe, I don’t don’t get why you hate Christmas so much.” Primrose winked going to the screen divider to get dressed. My sister was used to dressing and undressing in front of dozens of people. I, on the other hand, was not so free with nudity. Primrose said I was a prude. If I hadn’t I told her to use the screen, she would have changed right in front of me.

“Did you know there are only three jobs an elf can have,” Prim said from over the screen.

I sighed. Unlike me, Primrose loved Christmas. Hell, she even suggested that there might be a real Santa Claus. I told her the only people who look for ways to sneak into people’s houses were criminals.

Prim continued her story about elves. “The type of elves that live in trees and make cookies, the types that make shoes, and the best type.”

“Let me guess, Christmas elves,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Prim grinned. She came around the screen wearing thigh high red boots, jeans and a camel tunic sweater that looked like cashmere. “Come on sis, let me treat you to breakfast so that you can go terrorize the children of Macy’s toy department.”

Pt 2

Peeta grins excitedly, breaking the narration. “You know she’s right. Papa says the cookie elves have high insurance premiums because their tree catches fire all of the time.”

“Peeta,” I huff. “Do you want me to finish the story?”

“Absolutely,” he hugs me closer. “I’m so sad you and Prim never got to grow up at the North Pole with me.”

I can’t help but smile at his sincere wish. “Oh Peeta,” I kiss his cheek.

“The only thing I would never let you do was toy testing,” Peeta whispers.

I chuckled. Peeta hated Jack-In-The-Box’s. They scare the dickens out of him. I lay my head on his shoulders. “Are you going to let me finish the story?”

“You know,” he says, blue eyes twinkling. “I’d spotted you in the city that first day.”

“You were jumping across the lines of the cross walk, “ I grin at the memory.

“I followed you until I saw the Empire State Building. Then I went to see my father.”

“I know,” I caress his face.

“Start from that point.”

“Okay, you ready now.” My babies were moving in my belly.

“Right, you were in your father’s office delivering the most awkward Christmas gram.”

Peeta chuckles. “I don’t have your pretty voice.”

I sigh. “Peeta.”

“Right, I’ll be quiet.”

I give him a look.

“But just so you know, when those guards told me to go back to Macy’s, I was curious as to why you were dressed as an elf.“

I roll my eyes. Did I forget to mention my husband is a talker. He is a chatterbox. I swear Peeta is the type who’d make friends with a paper bag.

"I thought your elf name was so pretty,” he sighs happily.

“Peeta, if you want me to tell the story. You have to hush!” I admonish, if I didn’t we would be here until tomorrow.

“Oh,” he gushes. “Yes, tell the story.”

“So, there I was in the middle of New York, like a morsel in shark infested waters. I.E….”

“That passion fruit spray is horrible,” Peeta grumbles. “I do not know how women drink that stuff.”

I want to laugh. There are still things that Peeta doesn’t understand about human society; perfume was one of them, and that fact endeared him to me.

“Can you start at the moment our eyes met?” Peeta gives me a wobbly smile.

Ah, now I know why he’s interrupting so much. “Okay.”

Sighing I recall that day. Prim and I were out to breakfast. She was harping on me to find someone. Did I fall to mention Primrose was only twenty years old at the time, and at that age I was ancient at the tender age of twenty six. Seriously twenty-six. So what if I had never dated, never had a boyfriend, and never kissed anyone. My sister was right. I was a prude, but I’d seen how love could screw you over. My mom never recovered and she died alone in some home of a broken heart. All I had in the world was my sister. My Prim, and she was the only person I would love. Until that afternoon.

“Seriously Katniss, you’re twenty-six,” Prim said.

Eye rolling was a national pastime when speaking to a glamazon who thought I needed to date.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Prim said, removing my sunglasses. “And also, sunglasses in the middle of December, so not tre chique.”

Eye roll, eye roll, eye roll. Fake smile. CANASTO!

“You are the worst,” Prim hissed.

I knew my sister wasn’t mad at me. Annoyed, yes. Mad, no. “Prim, it’s just I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

“Katniss, I just don’t want you to impersonate elves for the rest of your life, and when you’re like forty-six, you’ll realize you’re alone with a cat, who pisses in your shoes, and scratches your furniture.”

I moved to pay our bill.

“No way,” Prim said, slamming her hand on the bill. “I make what you make in a month in two hours of work. This is on me.”

“Fine,” I grumbled.

“Also, stop closing yourself to Christmas. Santa isn’t going to leave you anything under the tree.”

“Like Santa exists,” I snorted.

Prim gasped. “You take that back. Santa Claus is real Katniss, just like the rainbows, and pigs and frogs having a long term, caring relationship, and love exists.”

My sister’s wide eyed passionate confession shook me, but the only words that came out of my mouth were, “a frog and a pig?”

“Miss Piggy and Kermit are together, and if they can make it, no matter what the media says, anything is possible.”

“Huh,” I said, leaving the luncheonette near Penn Station. We walked to the corner, where she’d take the stairs to the lower level.

I took a look at the stairs, knowing this was the moment I would say goodbye to my sister once again. My eyes filled with unwanted tears. I could still recall the little girl with the untucked shirt that looked like a duck tail. It’s where the nickname li’l duck came from.

“Don’t cry,” Prim whispered. “Quack, quack.”

“I hate it when we have to say goodbye,” I said quietly.

“It’s not goodbye, Katniss; it’s until the next time.” Prim grinned then she took my elf hat and put it on my head. “Go on, terrify the poor children of the city with your menacing scowl. But you better watch out, better not cry.”

I groaned. “Prim, I would rather hear seagulls squawking then you singing.”

“I know, that’s why I do it,” Prim said.

“You’re a brat.”

“Brat, I’m on Santa’s nice list. You’re the one on the naughty list.”

“There’s no such thing as Santa…” the words died on my lips as I saw a huge man dressed in an elaborate elf outfit jumping on the lines of the crosswalk gleefully. I was struck by the joy on his face.

He looked like an angel with wavy blond hair and innocent blue eyes. It was one thing to see a six-year-old child with that wide eyed innocence, but a tall, broad shouldered man with large hands made me think perhaps he’d escaped his caretakers. His elf outfit wasn’t like the cheap one I had to wear. It was made from a rich fabric with elaborately embroidered gold thread.

If there was something I knew about, it was fabric. I never had soft fabrics growing up and I was obsessed over soft materials. I dreamed of cashmere, Egyptian cotton, mulberry silks, and linens. His green tunic was made from merino wool, like the ones they made in England in those bespoke shops. Even his hat, although a ridiculous cone shape, was not some cheap fabric covered cardboard that you’d find in a costume shop. It was made from genuine thick green wool felt with a yellow satin ribbon wrapped around it. A red feather bobbed up and down as he jumped.

He was so happy. He looked up, as if sensing my presence. Our eyes met and he smiled jovially and waved at me. My mouth went dry, because, gaw, Canasto!

This man-child was gorgeous.

“Earth to Katniss.” Prim snapped her fingers in my face.

“Sorry.” I looked back to my sister.

Prim looked over her shoulder. “Are you okay.”

I dipped out of my sister’s way. “I think I saw an elf.”

Prim laughed. “It’s Christmas, Katniss. Santa’s elves are everywhere.” Prim gave me a hug before descending the stairs to the lower level of the station.

Seeing my sister go was difficult, but I couldn’t shake the tall man dressed as an elf. He even had on yellow tights with black elf shoes.

I made my way to Macy’s. I could see the Empire State building in the background as I took a left to head to the employee’s entrance.

When I arrived, the floor manager Brutus headed straight to me. He was a ridiculous man with muscles in his neck and a bald head. His meaty fingers held a tiny clipboard.

Brutus did not believe in technology. He refused to use a tablet. He said the muckety-mucks, as he called them, were out to get him. He wore dark brown pants that were too small for his large frame and even when he stood you could see his white socks. He wore a sweater vest with various pens in his front pocket and a cheap plastic necklace that was supposed to look like tree lights.

“Jovie,” Brutus said looking over his shoulder.

“Yes, Brutus,” I smiled. Jovie was my elf name.

“Our last Santa quit, and we have no one, so until then I need you to help out in gift wrapping. Don’t forget to make sure the ribbon curl is six inches.”

“But you need more than six inches, to make a good curl.”

“Six inches.”

Sighing I walked to the station and nodded to the girls who were at the gift-wrapping station. I sat there trying to make six inch curls. People were insane at Christmas; they were stressed out to buy things, and things never made anyone happy. Things were just things.

The line of people got shorter and I noticed the tree in the center of the sales floor was looking a little sad. So getting the ladder, I rearranged the ornaments and noticed one of the lights was out. From this vantage point I saw Brutus drag him in, the elf I saw on the street.

Heat rushed to my cheeks and I focused on the tree, eavesdropping the entire time.

“Buddy, you need to remember you get a half-hour break when you work under six hours and a one hour break when you work over six hours. If I catch you on the floor again I’ll have to write you up.”

His name was Buddy. My lips formed a goofy smile at his name. Up close he was prettier, his wavy hair curled up at the ends. A shiver ran up my spine at all of those curls. I could picture little boys with blond ringlets and a little girl with dark tresses in green colored elf clothing. I held on to the ladder as I swayed.

“Wow, what’s this?” HIs eyes quickly darted to the crowded sales floor.

“This is the north pole,” Brutus said looking at his precious clipboard.

“No it’s not,” Buddy waved at a pair of babies inside of a stroller.

“Yes it is,” Brutus said.

“No it’s not,” Buddy eye’s traveled to the tree and I hid behind it so that he didn’t see me.

“Yes it is,” Brutus put his hands on his wide hips.

“No it’s not,” Buddy said smiling. “Where’s the snow?”

“He’s right, there’s no snow,” a six-year old girl said. She’d been listening to the conversation.

I nearly snorted.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Brutus brows knit together.

“I just like to smile, smiling’s my favorite thing,” he said. Bouncing to the Christmas music that was being pumped through the speakers.

“Well stop smiling, and make work your favorite thing to do. And who gave you that outfit?”

“It’s mine,” Buddy said, splaying those large hands on his chest looking down at his elf outfit.

Brutus looked at the intricate gold embroidery. “Fine, if that’s your story. You should make work your priority instead of shopping.” Brutus sighed, looking at his clipboard again. “I have to make the announcement.”

Buddy nodded, but once more was looking around.

I was working on the tree lights by now and really didn’t want to get down because I wanted to keep staring at him. At his great legs. Normally tall guys had spindly legs. Not his, yum.

“Okay I’ve got an announcement. Santa will be here tomorrow at 10AM. Keep your receipts so you can see Santa.”

“SANTA!” Buddy yelled. He jumped, clasped his hands and a little girl next to him joined him. Soon there was a flock of kids doing the same thing, all speaking at once and he was nodding and speaking to them as if he knew Santa.

I chuckled cause I’ve never seen Brutus look so stunned and speechless. He was carried away by Chaff, his second in command.

Buddy turned and focused on me. I pretended that he wasn’t just a few feet away from me. I could feel his gaze as I fixed the bulb that was not letting the string of lights to turn on. The tree lit up and I swear his eyes seemed to glow brighter than the lights on the tree.

My stomach did a little flip-flop. “What!” I said defensively. I turned and saw how big his eyes were and the genuine smile. “Are you enjoying the view?”

“I love Christmas trees,” he said hesitantly. “It’s nice to see someone else who enjoys elf culture as much as I do.”

Of course the guy that would make butterflies dance in my stomach was a wackadoo. I scowled. This wasn’t happening. Getting down from the tree, I quickly walk away, grabbing a few stuffed animals that were discarded and putting them back on the display.

“Looks like someone needs Christmas cheer and the best way to do it is to sing.”

“I don’t sing,” I muttered.

“Of course you can.” He chased after me.

“No,” I said trying to get him to stop, but liking that he’s walking after me like a wide eyed puppy-dog.

“Anyone can. All you have to do is put a group of words together in a tune,” he said sweetly.

I hopped on up on the stage where the guy in the red suit would be seated tomorrow. I turned to look at him. As I spoke to him, I couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice. Because the last time I sang a Christmas song it was with my dad, hours before he died. “I know that, I can sing, but I choose not to sing.”

“Look, I’ll do it for you maybe it will make you smile,” Buddy said. He takes a deep breath, “I”M SINGING. I’M IN A STORE AND I AM…”

It was horrible, but I couldn’t help but smile.

“THERE’S NO SINGING IN THE NORTH POLE!” Brutus comes running out from behind the registrar.

“Yes there is,” Buddy says grinning at me. “I’m Peeta.”

“Wait I thought your name was Buddy?”

“That’s my middle name,” Peeta said. “Is Jovie your name?”

“No,” my voice sounds breathy. “Jovie is my elf name.”

“So what’s your real name?” His voice sounded deeper and I swear I could see nothing else but his big blue eyes tenderly gazing at me.

“Katniss,” I said, wondering why my knees were so wobbly. I couldn’t fall for a guy who thought he was an elf. A very good looking, broad shouldered guy with the face of an angel, but nonetheless, a complete wakadoo.

The ten minute warning came on letting people know they needed to go home.

“Oh I’ve got to get ready for Santa,” Peeta muttered under his breath. But before he could move Brutus appears.

“Buddy,” Brutus grabbed him by the arm and hauled him away. I was left standing on that stage with a big old goofy grin on my face.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #mega-aulover #submission #prompt

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loveinpanem-blog · 7 years

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Love is...Ensuring the Enduring Happiness of Katniss Everdeen

by: @finnicko-loves-anniec

Facing twelve weeks of summer without her best friend, Posy knows she needs a project. At first, hunting with Katniss seems like enough, but when she realizes just how lonely her new friend really is, Posy is determined to find a more permanent companion for Katniss. She’s even got the man picked out – Peeta Mellark. Now, all that remains is convincing them they need each other.

It seemed wrong that summer, the time of year where there were the fewest things to do, also had the longest days. At seven and eight, and for most of her ninth year, Posy had not thought much of it. Now that she was ten, however, that observation grated at her. Yes, she could have filled her days in the same way she had in past summers, with pick-up kickball in the town square or playing pretend in the meadow with Paige and Senna, but she felt too big to play kickball with the five-year-olds and she and Senna had gotten into a fight the last day of school that neither of them had yet apologized for. Considering that she hadn’t been the one who told Mrs. Clearney about the insect case, Posy had no intention of saying sorry first. Paige and Senna didn’t agree. Being right felt nice, but it was also boring when nobody else felt like being right with you.

And that boredom was what brought her to this point. Katniss always left the town early, a full hour before the few remaining coal miners headed out for the day shift in the mines. She spent at least three hours out in the woods before returning, usually with at least a couple animals or a big basket of berries in tow. Katniss had amazing focus, an incredible ability to tune out everything around her that wasn’t immediately related to the task at hand, and that kind of concentration must have contributed to her success as a hunter.

It also made her really easy to follow. Posy had been trailing her for at least half an hour before a tree root decided to grab her by the ankle and sent her crashing to the ground. “Oof!”

Katniss whirled around, weapon raised. “Who’s there?” She didn’t sound nearly as friendly now as she did when she and Mom haggled over her meat and berries.

“It’s me. Please don’t shoot me.”

“Posy?” Katniss moved a few steps closer. “Posy Hawthorne, is that you?”

“Yeah.” She sat up. Her ankle didn’t hurt too badly, which she took as a good sign.

Katniss pushed a few branches out of the way to get a better look at her. “You all right? What are you doing out here?”

“I’m okay.” She accepted the hand Katniss stretched out and let the woman pull her to her feet. “I, um, I was –“

“You were following me,” Katniss supplied. She shrugged, but that didn’t make the questioning stop. “Does your mother know where you are?”

“Kind of.” At Katniss’ raised eyebrow, she continued, “I mean, I didn’t tell her where I was going, but she didn’t ask either. I don’t usually have to tell her anyway. I’m old enough to watch myself.”

“As evidenced by the fact that you think it’s a good idea to follow someone with a weapon into the woods.” Well, when she put it that way, it didn’t sound like a good idea, but Posy could twist anything into something terrible with the right set of words. “What if I hadn’t realized it was you? What if I’d assumed you were a deer, or a squirrel, or some man who’d followed me out here when I heard you? Did you even think about that?”

“Why would you shoot a man?”

Katniss huffed. “That’s not the point. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I was bored.”

“You should really let people know you’re there before you start following them.”

“Okay.” Posy waited a second for Katniss to tell her to go away, but the words never came. “So, now that I’m here, can I stay with you?”

Katniss looked pained. “I guess so.”

“And I can come with you tomorrow?” The words came out in a rush of excitement.

“Don’t push your luck.”

After a week, Posy stopped asking. She showed up every morning at Katniss’ house in the Victors Village, and they went together into the woods for the next few hours. Katniss taught her how to use a bow, make traps, and skin squirrels. Gale had promised to teach her all that when he came home last March, but something had gone wrong on the project he was working on in Two, and he’d had to return a week early. That seemed to happen a lot with Gale.

Katniss claimed that she only let Posy stay because her nimble little fingers were better at tying the intricate series of knots that kept the traps open until a squirrel wandered inside. Posy had a very different theory: she wanted the company. Katniss smiled and joked. She got up and went about her day and didn’t mope around the way a few of the people who hadn’t completely returned from the war yet did. Still, when she didn’t realize Posy was watching, the smile would slip away, and the loneliness would creep back in. Posy understood loneliness. She saw it in Mom every time the anniversary of Dad’s death rolled around, in the entire district during those terrible days in July. Everyone kept busy, finished their tasks, kept their smiles glued on, and suffered together silently.

And in any case, Katniss was only about two inches taller than Posy, and her fingers weren’t much larger either.

The solution came to her three weeks into summer vacation. Posy wanted to call it a revelation, but when she looked the word up in the dictionary, she found that revelations usually came all at once. While the basic plan came in one burst one night while the Hawthornes were watching television, it took a while to fill in the details, especially the most important one. See, while it was obvious Katniss needed more permanent company that Posy could provide, one couldn’t take the matter of who would be providing that company lightly.

She went about it the way that Gale said he went about solving problems at work. On a clean sheet in a mostly-used notebook left over from last year, she listed every man in District Twelve between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five. Then over the next few days, she wrote down the pros and cons of each one. Well, not quite each one, as she didn’t know much of anything about some of them, but she made a good effort to give everyone a fair opportunity.

But when she sat down a week later to compare the possibilities, one clear frontrunner came through: Peeta Mellark. He and Katniss had been friends for years. He cooked, painted, and was generally enjoyable to be around. Posy had only managed to find one negative about him, that he might give away all their food to kid who asked for it, but Katniss would always be able to go hunting, so that shouldn’t be a problem. The more she thought about it, the more Posy thought that was just generosity, which didn’t belong on the cons list anyway. Also, she’d heard more than one of the older girls talk about how handsome Peeta Mellark was, and Posy tended to agree with their assessment. With any luck, Katniss did too.

Usually, Katniss was just about ready to leave when Posy arrived. They would finish packing Katniss’ bag together, put on some bug spray to ward off the worst of the mosquitoes, and be on their way in less than fifteen minutes. Today, though, none of her equipment waited outside, and the neighborhood sat silent and still. Posy wondered for a moment if she had arrived too late and Katniss had gone off without her. She hoped Katniss hadn’t, that she would accept Posy being a couple minutes late after showing up early every day for weeks, but sometimes people didn’t think about things like that when they made decisions. Her stomach clenched up as went up to the front porch to ring the doorbell.

“I’ll be down in a second!” Katniss’ voice sounded sleepy and far away. “Give me a minute, Posy.”

It took Katniss a lot longer than a minute to come to the door, and even then, it wasn’t the right door. Her loose hair bounced around her shoulders as she hurried down the front steps of Peeta’s house. “You’re here earlier than I expected.“

“No, you’re late.” Posy always left at 6:25, the same time Mom left to go to work, and she never got to the Victors Village after 6:45. She really doubted she was the one running off-schedule, especially after one considered how wrinkled Katniss’ clothes were. She must have been in a rush even before she went over to Peeta’s for breakfast. “But it’s okay,” she added. No reason to make Katniss feel bad about something that didn’t bother Posy at all.

“Hey,” Katniss said. “If you want to go with me, you go by my schedule, and I say you’re early.”

Posy rolled her eyes at that, and Katniss snorted in laughter as she started to braid her hair. Her fingers moved so quickly that Posy half-expected them to end up knotted together. Instead, she had a neat, finished braid that extended all the way down to her waist done in less than a minute. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

“What?”

“Braid my hair.”

“You’ve already got a braid.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like yours. Mine just goes straight down from my head, see?” She tugged at the offending braid.

Katniss was going to get some weird wrinkles on one side of her forehead if she kept doing that with her eyebrows. That’s what Mom said every time Posy made that face, anyway. “I think we’ve got gravity to thank for that.”

“No.” Posy traced along Katniss’ braid. “Yours goes sideways around your head and then drops diagonal over your shoulder. I want my hair to do that, but Mom can’t figure out how you do it.”

“I can braid it, if you want, but we’re already running late, so teaching you how to do it’ll have to wait.”

Posy undid her hair tie and turned around so Katniss could see her hair. “Are you gonna go over to Peeta’s again for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Breakfast?”

“Like you did today.”

“Oh, um…” She twisted around and caught a hint of Katniss blush before the woman nudged her back. “Cut it out. I need to focus.” There were a few seconds of silence as Katniss finished up the braid. “Anyway, tomorrow’s Monday. Peeta will be at the bakery by four, so I doubt I’ll be getting a breakfast invite.”

Well, it would have been good for them to see each other again, but Posy would have to make the best of it. “So if I show up a couple minutes early, can you teach me then?”

“Sure.”

“No, I’m not going to pull you too!” Posy swatted at River, but the boy dodged and stuck his tongue out at her. “I can’t pull you and the flour, and if I don’t get the flour to Peeta by noon, he’s gonna get mad.” She couldn’t imagine Peeta ever getting angry about something as little as that, but four-year-old River didn’t need to know that. She lowered her voice. “He might even take away the wagon.”

Grey eyes widened in pure terror. The red wagon emblazoned with Mellark’s Bakery had been a mainstay of childhood entertainment in Twelve ever since Peeta bought it three years ago. Big enough to fit four fifty-pound bags of flour – or comfortably seat three children – whenever Peeta didn’t need it to cart shipments from the train station to the bakery, it could be found being paraded in circles around the square. Without it, the long days of summer would have been dreary indeed.

Knowing when her trap had been perfectly baited, she offered a solution. “But if you’re good and don’t bother me the entire way, I’ll make sure you get the first turn after Peeta’s done.”

River gave a very serious little nod and climbed out of the Red Rider. “Okay.” He followed dutifully behind her the entire way back to the square, his eyes never leaving the wagon.

Peeta was waiting for them at the door when they arrived. “You guys made good time. How’s Hatcher doing?”

“He’s doing all right. He said he had a tight schedule today, so he won’t be coming into town.” Posy was pretty proud that she remembered the engineer’s words verbatim.

“Yeah, that’s what it looked like from the schedule. Maybe next time.” He hoisted one of the bags onto his shoulder. “You guys can come in, if you want. I’ve got cookies that just came out of the oven.”

River didn’t seem too sure about leaving the wagon, but the dual promise of shade and cookies lured him inside. Anyway, with three bags of flour still sitting in the Red Rider, nobody was going to be making off with it too soon.

A dull thud came from the pantry when Peeta dropped the flour. He wiped off his hands on a rag and picked out the two biggest cookies off the cooling rack. “One for Miss Posy for being an excellent delivery girl,” he said, holding one out to her. She accepted it with a smile. “And one for Mister River for being a good helper.”

Posy wanted to interject, tell him that no, River hadn’t helped, just annoyed her the entire way to the station, but she had received a cookie for jobs she’d had no part in more than once herself. It was really only being a good friend to pass that on. “Thank you!” River stuffed a giant bite of the sugar cookie into his mouth and sprinted outside.

Peeta laughed, a big warm sound that matched the sunny day. “I suppose I should clear out the wagon for him. You get yourself some water, all right Posy? I don’t want you to get dehydrated after that.”

She didn’t have to stand on her tiptoes anymore to reach the glasses. That felt like victory.

By the time he finished carrying in the flour, she was finished with her cookie and halfway done with her water. “Your hair looks nice today,” Peeta remarked when he came back from the pantry. He gave her braid a gentle tug, and she giggled.

Posy saw her chance. “Katniss taught me how to do it!”

“You did a nice job.”

“She’s really good at hair and a lot of other things too.”

“That she is.” Peeta had a really nice smile. Posy wasn’t sure if it was because he had all his teeth and they were very straight and very clean-looking or because he got little dimples when he did it. Either way, she liked it, and hopefully, Katniss did too. “So, what’s going on in your neighborhood these days? I haven’t seen your mom in a few days. Anything new with her?”

As she began recounting the geese incident, Posy had a thought she had never before considered. If she couldn’t get Katniss and Peeta together, she might just have to marry Peeta Mellark herself.

“Have you ever been to the lake?”

“What lake?”

“There’s a big one a few miles out. My dad used to take me there when I was younger.” Katniss rarely mentioned her father. She didn’t often talk about any of her family members, and Mom had warned Posy not to ask about them, which she still thought strange. Her memories of Thirteen were faded and fuzzy, but Katniss’ sister still shone through. That dismal place had not dimmed Prim’s smile as it had the adults. Posy remembered her as a studious child who spent more time with her books than the other children, but she also recalled in vivid detail being Prim’s helper during a game of hide and seek in one of Thirteen’s enormous storage rooms, listening carefully for any sign of her brothers then racing through a gale of laughter when Vick made a run for it. She hoped Katniss remembered that Prim too, not just the ashes that rested under a granite marker in Twelve’s small cemetery.

“What do you want to do there?”

“I was thinking I could teach you to swim. It’ll be warm enough by now that it should be pretty comfortable.”

Posy’s eyes widened. “Really? I didn’t know you could swim!” Gale had promised that she could visit him for two weeks next summer, and that he’d take her to one of the mountain springs that laced around District Two. Posy didn’t know if they were deep or warm enough to swim in, but she’d like to know how just in case.

“I’m taking that as a yes?” Katniss prodded.

“Yeah!” Posy realized an instant later the opportunity that had presented itself. “Maybe Peeta can come with us?”

Katniss’ forehead crinkled when she frowned. “Why would we bring Peeta?”

Posy shrugged. “He’s nice.”

“Yeah, but he’s also right about the loudest person ever.”

She had Katniss on a point of logic there, which was a nice change. “You said we weren’t hunting, so why would it matter that he’s loud?”

“Point taken, but why do you want Peeta to come with us in the first place?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, so he won’t be in the bakery. Maybe he’ll want something to do.”

“You can ask him if you want.”

No, that wouldn’t work at all. It had to look like Katniss’ idea. “Maybe it’d be better if you asked him? Just so he doesn’t think I’m inviting him without asking you first,” she explained.

“All right, I’ll ask him. I’m seeing him for dinner tonight anyway.”

Posy mentally crossed another step off her plan. A day at the lake with no distractions? Better than she could have hoped.

“You’re gonna have to keep up with us, or we’ll leave you behind.”

“And here I thought you were starting to like me,” Peeta deadpanned. Posy was impressed that he still had the energy to be sassy. She had gone out into the woods with Katniss every day for close to two months, and her legs burned after three hours of hiking. The pack bumped against her back with every other step, and she bet she would find a bruise there when she got ready for bed tonight.

Katniss grinned. “Well, that was your mistake.” She pushed ahead, leaving Posy and Peeta behind. Mom always said that kids had too much energy, but she must never have gone hiking with Katniss.

Posy leaned in closer to Peeta. “Don’t worry, I’ll stick around if she tries to leave you. She won’t abandon both of us.”

“Thanks, Posy,” he laughed. Then his voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “And anyway, I think we’ve got her. She put all the food in my pack.”

Posy smiled so widely that it hurt. “You have the cookies?”

“Yeah, but we’ve got to save them for the picnic later, okay? I don’t think Katniss’ll kill me, but I don’t really want to take the chance either.”

“You’d better not give me an excuse. You never know what I’ll do with it.” Katniss’ voice wafted down from the top of the hill.

“Eavesdropping isn’t nice.” Peeta winked at Posy, who giggled. By the time they reached the bend and Katniss came back into view, both were completely composed. “How close are we, Katniss?”

She turned around. “Why don’t the two of you get up here and take a look?”

Posy dug into that last reserve of energy she had and jogged up to the top of the hill. Her mouth fell open when she saw the enormous expanse of blue-green before her. The sun glistened off of the water, jewel-like and beautiful. Beside the lake sat a small cabin, really more of a shack, but the little wooden frame with the faded red door looked more inviting even than the displays put up in the storefronts around New Years. “You can go on ahead,” Katniss said, and her voice ripped Posy from her stupor. Without another thought, she was racing down towards the beach, heavy pack and its uncomfortable bumping completely forgotten. “Be careful with the cabin! I don’t know what kind of critters might have decided to set up shop!”

Besides a few dead spiders and a mouse, no animals waited inside. Posy didn’t pay them any mind. A cot that reeked of mildew and was riddled with holes left by burrowing animals who thought it was comfier to sleep in a mattress rather than on top of it sat on the ground, and she collapsed onto it, wrinkling her nose at the odor that accompanied her every movement. The cot couldn’t keep her interest for long. There was also a stove, which she knew better than to try to turn on without having Katniss look over first but couldn’t resist poking at for a few minutes, and a chair that only ever used three of its four legs at any one point. She spent a while trying to figure out whether that was because the floor sloped or the legs weren’t the same length and determined it was probably both.

Realizing that neither Peeta nor Katniss had joined her yet, she started outside to check on them. She stopped at the threshold, for just a few yards away, Peeta and Katniss sat at the edge of the lake, just close enough that the waves ran over their toes, his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder.

Posy quietly moved back into the house, a smile on her face. Whether or not she learned to swim, she considered today a success.

#LIP2017 #Valentine's Day #LIP Drabbles #loveinpanem #VDAY 2017 Day3 #finnicko-loves-anniec #Ensuring the Enduring Happiness of Katniss Everdeen #everlark #everlark fanfiction #thg fanfiction #submission #VDAY 2017

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allonsysilvertongue · 7 years

Text

The Elusive Miss Trinket

Haymitch Abernathy was pulled out of his self-imposed retirement by the Trinkets with a request of utmost urgency. [Hayffie AU]

The Elusive Miss Trinket: Chapter 3

Haymitch felt her eyes on him with a list of question burning on her lips. He ignored it as he pulled clothes after clothes from the hanger in his wardrobe.

“Haymitch….” Prim called on him quietly. “Katniss told me that you’re not doing this anymore, not after Annie. You don’t have to…for me”

“We talked about this. It’s decided.”

Behind him, Prim exhaled wistfully but to her credit, chose a neutral question. “What’s it like there… Singapore?”

He shrugged. He had done a search on the city-island and there were a few things he could tell Prim – that it was just a small city squashed in between two big countries which often sheltered it from any natural disasters or that they had developed their own colloquial English - but he settled for the easiest.

“Hot.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Not sure,” Haymitch admitted as he turned around to face Prim. She was standing by his bed, folding clothes into his bag. “As soon as it’s done, I’ll be back. Three months, maybe…”

“She’s not like mum,” she stated out of the blue.

“No, she’s not like your mum. She isn’t missing missing.”

“I think mum’s like her,” Prim said so quietly that Haymitch almost missed it. “I think she wants to leave but … I’m here. So is Katniss. This place kept reminding her of dad, though.”

Haymitch pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s difficult for her but she still has responsibilities to you and Katniss,” he added even if it was becoming very glaring that Katniss was the one pulling the weight.

“I know,” Prim said simply, “but it makes me think that if she could, she would have left and start a life elsewhere, just like Mr. and Mrs. Trinket’s daughter. I think – I think I’ll be okay with that, too. If it makes mum feel more… at peace.”

It startled him to hear her talking that way. Perhaps without him realising it, Prim had grown.

“Anyway, when will I meet this tutor?”

“Soon, I guess. The Trinkets will contact you to make arrangements.”

Prim nodded and went back to quietly helping Haymitch with his packing. Katniss had gone off to hunt in the woods as she did every morning. When he had told the three teenagers that he would be leaving for a few months, Katniss had said very little except that he would call to check in whenever he can. Peeta had promised to keep an eye on Chaff and watch after the two girls. It made Katniss scowl but between his amused laugh, Peeta had also offered to drive Haymitch three hours out to Charlotte Douglas Airport.

“You forgot this?”

Chaff wandered into his room, waving a stun gun and a gun that once belonged to Haymitch.

“I won’t need it," Haymitch shook his head. "Euphemia Trinket isn’t in danger - ain't a kidnapping case.”

“You never know, man. She could have a jealous boyfriend or a psycho colleague,” Chaff muttered.

"Then I'll handle it."

"Better be safe than sorry," Chaff insisted.

“Don’t need it,” Haymitch said. He hated guns or the feel of it in his hand. His knife should be enough. “You know it’s illegal to carry those stuffs around in Singapore, yeah?"

"Really?" Chaff folded his arms. "Or you're just fucking with me ‘cause you don't want to bring them?"

"I'm not kidding – guns, stun guns, pepper spray. I don't plan to be thrown in jail before I even make it pass immigration. You’ve asked Beetee to get on board, yeah?”

“Yep,” Chaff nodded in affirmative, finally relenting. “Don’t worry about it. Just get there and we’ll do what we need to do here.”

Since Stefan had told him about Euphemia and his grandson, Haymitch had gleaned that she was active online so he had tasked Beetee with unearthing everything he could about her. In this day and age, he was quite certain she would have at least one social media account and that was all Beetee would need. In Haymitch’s line of duty, the simplest and seemingly most insignificant of detail could be a clue.

Haymitch grabbed his phone with the intention of checking that the battery had been fully charged but he ended up going to his photo gallery to have a look at the photograph Stefan had sent to him for his referral. He told himself, as he stared at the picture, that it was to commit her face to memory but ….

“She’s pretty,” Prim observed, peeking into his phone as she stood next to him with a pile of neatly folded clothes.

“I don’t see what that has got to do with anything,” he murmured.

“Oh, nothing,” Prim’s eyes twinkled, “but she looks happy where she’s at now. You’re going to be spoiling her party by bringing her home.”

“Too bad for her,” he chuckled. “That’s my job now. If I don’t do it, guess who’s not getting a tutor and that apothecary is gonna remain shut forever – a shame, yeah?”

XxX

His two hours flight to Chicago went relatively smooth with no incident.

It was the long flight from there to Hong Kong that he had a problem with. He finished a book mid-way during the flight and because he was pacing himself with the drink, he grew restless quickly. Given his career, the time he spent sitting on the flight doing nothing should be something he was used to. After all, he had spent hours in a car watching his target but … Chaff was always there to fill the gaps and the silence.

His gaze strayed to the woman next to him, engrossed with the in-flight movie she was watching. At times, he wished such mindless things could occupy him so he would not be in this state – exhausted but not fully able to close his eyes for even a short nap. He leaned back against the seat, arms folded across his chest with his leg tapping a restless beat against the floor.

There was still seven hours to go. Seven hours that a normal human being not plagued by nightmares could spend sleeping, but not him.

It was at that moment that he hated Euphemia Trinket, and her selfish reasons for leaving the States.

“Couldn’t have fucking ran off to Hong Kong or to Japan, could you?” he muttered to himself angrily. “That’ll save me a flight.”

This woman, he thought, better be worth my time.

His two hours layover was spent walking mindlessly around the airport and visiting souvenir shops. He bought three different items for Katniss, Peeta and Prim each and paid for it using the credit card Stefan Trinket had provided him.

The last leg of his flight from Hong Kong to Singapore went by in a blur. He had lost track the date and day but the only thing he was aware of was the fact that it was one in the morning and having travelled for more than twenty hours, he was exhausted.

But he was alert. He had never been here and he was always wary of unfamiliar places.

As he stood on the travelator, his gaze swept through the premises watching the other travellers hurrying over to their gates, to the various machines lining the sidewalk offering money changing services, payment options for online transactions and the computer terminals.

Clearing immigration took him faster than expected and while everyone else was rushing to the conveyor belt for their luggage, Haymitch made a stop at the duty free shop for liquor. It was only when he had two bottles with him that he went to the belt to get his luggage and walked right out of the doors towards the taxi stand.

“Number 7!” the man waved him towards the direction of a taxi once he was in front of the queue.

He blinked and dutifully went to the spot marked seven. He spent the ride staring out of the window and watching the sceneries passed him by but the roads were too bright. There were street lamps every hundred meters and at first, he thought it was just the airport but it was on every street and road, and to his tired eyes, the glare was piercing.

“The streets are too clean,” Haymitch muttered that observation out loud.

The taxi driver briefly looked at him through the rear view mirror.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Don’t throw your rubbish on the streets only at the rubbish bin. Otherwise, I tell you, the Gahmen will fine you hundreds of dollars, make you do community service! That’s why everybody scared to litter," the driver laughed.

He stared at the back of the driver's head, wondering if the old man was joking before dismissing it.

“Gahmen?” he frowned, picking up on the irregularity instead.

“Government – that’s how we say it,” he chuckled. “Anyway, that’s your hotel. You can see it already.”

It wasn’t his hotel that caught his interest. It was something else. Haymitch straightened in his seat, his attention fully focused on it.

"That's it," he breathed out.

The Singapore Flyer loomed to his left; a bright, giant wheel against the night sky. He had seen it on Google Images but it was always different to see something for oneself. Haymitch made a calculating sweep over the nearby area to possibly identify the location from which Euphemia had taken the photo but it was difficult when they were traveling on the expressway.

XxX

Ever since he checked in and was shown to his room, Haymitch had been staring at the ceiling, occasionally drinking from the bottle and waiting for sleep to claim him.

He had already sent a text message to Katniss to notify her that he had safely arrived. Back at home, he was hoping that Beetee already had some luck with his digging. The Trinkets had sent him here to Singapore and even if the country was small, there were still millions of people here. Their daughter was a needle in the proverbial haystack.

It was not to say that he had no plan of action. He already planned to scout the area surrounding the Flyer tomorrow. It would not hurt to have a look, perhaps even ask around using the photo of her that was in his possession. She could be a regular visitor of that area and people might recognise her.

Haymitch thought of her long and hard while lying in bed. Family could be overbearing, he would grant that, but to distant oneself and completely disappear from her family's life without any phone calls or contact with her parents for years... That was something he could not wrap his head around.

He would give anything to hear his mother's nagging or the quiet creak of the floorboard as his father get a bottle he had hidden from his mother. He would trade his life to have his brother shadow him for an entire day, something which the younger Haymitch found irritating but now missed more than anything.

Whatever the reason may be, the youngest Trinket would have a weakness. He would find hers and use it to convince her to return home so he could close this job.

XxX

"You did what?!" Haymitch sputtered. "Is that … legal?"

Around him, people were giving him uncomfortable side-glances. Aware of this, Haymitch quickened his pace, weaving amongst the crowd until he reached the front of the mall. Unlike the polished, modern looking high-rise that was his hotel at Marina Bay Sands, this old-fashioned building was hardly eye-catching and was only visited by electronic enthusiast.

"Damn it, Beetee, I asked you to snoop. You can't just hack into her… or anyone’s social media account! That's... a breach of privacy."

"Says the private investigator...."

"Fine," he concurred. "What did you find?"

With the phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder, Haymitch entered a shop. Like every other shop that he had passed by since he reached the mall, this one was no different. There were a range of computers and laptops on display both new and second-hand. There were digital cameras and other electronic gadgets, none of which interest him since he was looking for something else entirely, something very specific.

“None of her social media accounts state her address – and I wasn’t expecting to find it, of course. No sensible person would put up their address on Facebook. But I did get a sense of… her, of who she is. There were photos she took while on a run and – “

“Tell me it was near that Flyer,” he muttered.

“Yes,” Beetee chuckled. “I cleaned up some of the photographs with Finnick’s help and extracted some of the background to compare with the map on – “

“Get to the point, Beetee,” Haymitch cut him off knowing full well that Beetee would attempt to explain the technicalities of it, half of which would be lost of him.

He was sounding irritable, he knew. But he had been to three shops so far without finding what he was looking for even if he had asked for it discreetly. He had heard of some shady dealings going on so he was certain he would find it. It was just a matter of asking the right people.

“I believe that she enjoys a run or a stroll by the river which is the area where the Flyer and coincidentally, your hotel is located and –“

“There are two sides to any bloody river, Beetee, what are the odds being in my favour that I’d bump into her?” he asked.

Haymitch drummed his finger against the display casing, waiting for the shop owner who had disappeared into the back of his shop to return. When he emerged, he was holding on to a packaging the size of his palm and handed it to Haymitch.

“This is what you want?”

Haymitch nodded, tearing the package open.

“Well… This might be of interest to you, judging from some of the uploaded photos it looks like Euphemia Trinket has a company… or some online business here. There were photos of bridal dresses and hand bouquets appearing quite often on her Instagram… Either that or she was planning her wedding. No captions to accompany the photos so it wasn’t very illuminating”

“Right – hold on a minute,” Haymitch pulled the phone from his ear to inspect the small circular device. “This will do. I’ll take it.”

He made sure to pay by cash, just in case, and left the shop.

“I found it and bought it,” he told Beetee. “So did you do a business profile search under her name?”

“I was going to search for her LinkedIn account but I will get to – “

“Did you say wedding? Here? She got married here?” Haymitch hissed into the phone. “That’s fucking great, Beetee. If she has a family here, persuading her to leave would be fucking impossible, and that's not something I want to be telling her parents.”

I know that I continue be a disappointment because Effie and Haymitch still have not met but we will get there, in the next chapter. On the bright side of Chap 3, Haymitch is in the same country as Effie is so that's a plus.

Anyway, what are your thoughts on what Prim said about her mother? Or about what Beetee did/found out? What did Haymitch buy and for what? What do you think of Effie from what we've known of her so far? Let me know!

As I will be leaving for Thailand next week, the next chapter might be posted on Monday (23/1) instead otherwise, the weekend after!

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #hayffie au #the elusive miss trinket

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