you beautiful tropical fish (kolms) wrote,
you beautiful tropical fish

[ ficathon ] the girl on fire

Tags: book: hunger games trilogy, ficathon!
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president coin, she is more than her thousand names.
um don't mind me just wandering around the ficathon picking up all the president coin prompts i missed my first time around to work on this weekend.

(this prompt is a perfect one btw)
cato/clove, the first time they met in their district
Written awhile ago, but the last part of this fic is their first meeting, if you want it. :)
Katniss/Peeta slowly putting the broken pieces back together...the life after the Games
In the weeks following her return to District 12, she finds herself staring at the primrose planted outside her window more than she would like, and she thinks of her sister, and the fiery inferno that took her away. But mostly she finds herself thinking about the boy next door, the boy with the bread, wondering if he has found his way back to her and what these flowers really mean. She’s surprised to find that despite her uncertainty about everything in her life, he is the one thing that is clear, and the one thing she longs to hold onto.

It’s been nearly a year since she has picked up her bow, and she feels as if she should be disgusted with it, that it should remind her of the hell that she has been through, of the crimes that she has committed, but her fingers ache to pull back the string and let every arrow in her arsenal fly away. She wants to feel normal again in this world that no longer makes sense. The woods, hunting, that is all she has left.

And though she’s never been afraid of being alone, her heart aches for some sort of interaction; her solitary life has left her shackled with only the memories to keep her company. So as she walks out the door for the first time in days, her bow and arrow slung over her shoulder, she takes a left and knocks on Peeta’s door.

“I’m going hunting,” she says as he answers the door. It is all she can really manage to say; her voice is so hoarse with non-use, but he seems to understand her regardless. Maybe it is the pleading in her eyes, maybe it is simply that the need for human contact can be traced on a person’s skin, but he follows her as she makes her way to the woods.

He doesn’t say anything as he sits on the ground beneath a scorched tree, watching her hunt, but she wonders what he is thinking, and why he doesn’t at least wander around. After she’s felled a few turkeys (they’ve found their way back to the district after the bombing and now have started to flourish), she takes a seat beside him.

“In the arena, you forced me to pick berries and roots so I wouldn’t scare away all the prey when you were hunting. Real or not real?” He asks.

She laughs despite herself; it bubbles out of her mouth, and to her ears she sounds deranged, but she doesn’t stop. It occurs to her that this is why he sat so silently underneath the tree, simply keeping her company as he waited for her to finish. He’s remembered their time together in the arena, and as her laughter dies down, she finds that some part of her is happy at this realization. It had taken her awhile to place the emotion. Finally she answers him with a smile on her face, “real.”

They lapse into silence, listening to the faint rustle of the wind through the trees. Katniss is surprised she can still even go to these woods and not want to burn every tree to the ground. Maybe it is all the memories with her father, or maybe the other ones just don’t seem to matter anymore. That world is gone, and despite all she has lost, she is grateful that she finally has freedom. As if he is somehow reading her mind, Peeta asks, “Do you miss him?”

She ponders his question for a second, searches inside her deadened soul, and finds that she misses the ways things had been with Gale before; two hunters, two comrades, two friends with the hint of maybe something more. But after everything that happened with the rebellion and Prim, she knows the answer is “no”.

“Not anymore,” she finally says to Peeta, giving him a faint smile.

And she wishes he would reach out and touch her like he had done before, but as she gazes down at his clenched fists and realizes he is fighting back another ugly image in his head, she’s filled with hatred for the Capitol all over again. No amount of revenge could satiate her appetite.

But she wouldn’t let them win again; she leans her forehead against his, bringing both her hands up to cup his face and whispers, “stay with me.”

His response is so soft that she would have been sure she had imagined it had it not been for the feel of his breath of her cheek.



4 years ago


4 years ago

johanna/peeta, now i should leave without a noise, or fall in love with other boys
gale/madge, we love, we live, we give what we can give
gale/annie - tomorrow will be kinder
gale/annie; tomorrow will be kinder // (spoilers for mockingjay; pg) // (1 of 2)

Maybe it was strange that they were drawn to each other after the war, after all that had happened and what they’d lost, but he didn’t see it that way. He saw two broken people who needed somewhere half-stable to stand in the aftermath. He saw a strange girl who just trying to make it to the next day, same as him.

She’d lost Finnick, though she was blessed with a son with eyes the same shade of blue-green. He’d lost Katniss and his home. She wasn’t dead, but for all they still spoke, she might as well have been. She couldn’t get past the possibility that he may have caused Prim’s death and frankly neither could he. And if he couldn’t talk to her, hunt with her… Since the end of the war his family was getting by comfortably. There was no reason to stay.

He looked up as Annie came out on the porch, the sea breeze tickling at her long hair. He wouldn’t compare scars to determine who’s were worse, because they both woke up screaming some nights and sometimes he was the one to comfort her, sometimes she comforted him. He’d wrap his arms around her, hold her close, whisper in her hair as she covered her ears with her hands and cried softly into his chest.

“It’s okay… you’re okay,” he’d say. “Just wait until morning. Everything is always brighter in the morning.”

When he was the one who woke up in a panic, twisted up with terror and grief, she’d sing quietly in the dark and trace the planes of his face.

“It’ll be alright tomorrow,” she’d say. “The sun will shine or the rain will come and it will be better – wash away the bad and the stronger we’ll be.”

Gale can’t remember how this whole thing started. Sometime after the War, after Katniss, after spending a year getting too thin, living on guilt and grief, trying to just survive the day, he’d spontaneously taken a trip out of 2. Well, more like he came home from work one day and suddenly felt so suffocated by his sparse apartment and the same sights and sounds, he thought he might smash his head through a wall, so he thought going somewhere (anywhere) else would curb that feeling.

Once he was in 4, he remembered Annie, Finnick’s wife for far too short a time; how she’d been pregnant (thoughts and images of the day Finnick died bombarded him and he’d had to stop and clutch a wall before he could catch his breath). He decided he didn’t know her well enough and it would be too strange and awkward to drop by unannounced, and what? Say, hi, remember me from 13? Yeah, Katniss’ – former – best friend. Yeah, I went to the Capitol with your husband. Yeah, I was there when he died. Sorry. So, um, how’s life? Besides, he didn’t even know where she lived.

He’d then proceeded to spend several weeks in 4, traveling aimlessly, staying in hotels, doing odd jobs here and there. Maybe it was the sea air, but he felt somehow refreshed and free, something he couldn’t remember feeling since those days in the woods with his best friend (those times that were so far away now, he could hardly fathom that he had experienced them in this lifetime). The dark cloud – no, it was more solid than a cloud – that had been clinging to him, drowning him, doing its best to kill him, had finally begun to lift (if only just a tiny, tiny bit).

He’d bumped into her at a market one afternoon. He’d thought she was as lovely as he remembered from seeing her in 13 (a bit plain looking, but pleasant and sweet). She’d recognized him, all wide eyes and airy voice, humming when she picked out some apples, baby on her hip. And then somehow days later, he was at her and Finnick’s home having tea. Then he was coming by once a week and starting to bring by groceries, things for the baby. He let the lease on his apartment in 2 lapse and let them rent it out fully furnished.



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finnick/annie, annie is killed before she is able to be rescued from the capitol and finnick doesn't recover from that
finnick/annie, it's you, it's you, it's all for you, everything i do
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS, my creys forever tbh.
haymitch/effie, distaste is somehow better than disinterest (and distance)

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4 years ago

Tributes, Glee!AU, the cutthroat world of show choir
Ohhhhhh my gosh, I just wrote a bit of High School!AU for another prompt and now I so badly want to write this. I AM GOING TO DO MY BEST.


4 years ago


4 years ago

katniss/peeta, mockingjay - hold me close, cause i need you to guide me to safety
Gale/Katniss, Prim - Katniss isn't able to volunteer, so Gale does it for her. He can't keep Prim from the Games, but he can do his best to see her home.
Oh my goodness. I love this.


4 years ago


4 years ago

annie/finnick - sometimes she dreams of him and then doesn't want to wake.
annie/finnick, More, PG, general Mockingjay spoilers

Sometimes she dreams of him and then doesn’t want to wake, because his voice is crystal clear in her ears and his laughter rings like a bell, like the horns of a barge calling across foggy waters in the night. His lips are on her lips and on her throat and on her breasts. His hands hold hers, with callouses in all the right places; he touches her face and draws his fingers through her hair. He whispers that he loves her and his eyes wash over her like the sea; she wishes she could stay forever, but then she hears her son cry and she wakes, panting.

“Ode,” she coos, rising from her bed, her limbs stiff and cold in the morning air. She lifts the baby from his cot and holds him to her chest in a warm, tight bundle. The weight of him like an anchor, mooring her in sound waters.

“I was just with your father,” she says, letting him suck on her finger until he realizes that there is no milk to be had and a tiny look of betrayal crosses his face. “He says he loves you and wants to be with you, but not for a while. Not for a long, long while.”

She lies back down with the little one resting on her belly. “Your father was the bravest man in the world. Strong enough to swim against the evening tide, smart enough to learn the names of every ship that ever sailed from these waters, and kind enough to love your poor, mad mother.”

When Ode is 8, he comes home one day crying and seizes her around the waist in the front room of the boarding house, pressing his tear-stained face into her apron, refusing to let go. It takes Annie a full five minutes to pry him loose enough to kneel down before him and hold his face in her hands.

“Ode, my sweet boy,” she says, wiping his eyes with the edge of her dress. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Please don’t leave me,” he says, clinging to her neck. “Please don’t go.”

“Ode,” she says sweetly. “I’m not going anywhere. I would never leave you.”

“In town,” Ode hiccups through a sob. “They say, they say you want to be with my father.”

“Oh, my sweet boy,” she pulled her son close and kissed his head. “Bless your heart.”

She wished, more than anything, that fate had not been so unkind to her sweet, blameless son, having taken his father and left him a mother whose fits were whispered of on market day. There was a time, yes, when she was more apt to do harm than good, and part of her still longed to burn the village to the ground for the distress they caused her son, the one perfect thing she had ever had.

“Look at me, Ode,” she says, holding his face in her hands, his father’s green eyes shining back at her through big, fat tears. “Look at me. I love your father, you know I do, but—and this is our little secret, alright?”

Though his lower lip still trembled, Ode nodded and sniffed.

“I love your father, but I love you more.”

She missed Finnick every hour of every day; she missed the peace of mind of having his solid form beside her. She missed the calm in his voice soothing her out of a waking nightmare. Finnick was so much a part of her, even now there were times when she could feel him. But if she were the tide, her son was the moon.

Annie gathered her son into her arms and held him tightly. “I love you more.”
foxface i taught myself how to grow old


March 25 2012, 03:54:49 UTC 4 years ago Edited:  March 25 2012, 03:56:24 UTC

There's nothing special about her; there's nothing that makes her stand out from any of the other tributes.

She is aware of this.

She's not a Career, she has no sentimental backstory that will gain the audience's and the Capitol's sympathy (like that would even help), she isn't too pretty, and she is not in love with the boy from her district.

But she is fast. She is clever. She's as cunning as a fox, or so she's been told before. With hardly any family left to rely on, without any siblings left to take care of, she has learned to worry for one person and one person only: herself. No one else matters, because at the end of the day, it's just going to be her. It will always be just her, and she's fine with that. She wants it like that.

So, she does what she does best in the arena: survives.

(she ate the berries, the fresh looking and delicious berries, she was just so hungry, and she never-)

The booty traps are obvious, and she's quick enough to get past them. She has no ally, so she doesn't have to fret over someone slitting her throat while she sleeps (she would slit there's though. She would, when the time came.) But she watches, she observes, and she thinks only for herself.

I am going to win. There is no other option.

(-saw it coming, before she knows it, her throat is closing up and then-)

A cannon fires.


4 years ago


4 years ago

katniss/effie, there ain't no other way, baby i was born this way
yes please
They used to be just like me and you
The used to be sweet little boys
But something went horribly askew
Now killing is their only source of joy
finnick/annie, i think i made you up inside my head
Haymitch/Effie, You're wonderful, in a loathsome sort of way
Any/Any, It frightens me to think of what I'd like to do to you
You're Not You - Peeta/Katniss
Almost positive this isn't what you were thinking, but this happened anyway :S

These people are idiots, letting their hope for freedom cloud their judgement. Letting a mutt become the face of what was a laughable rebellion was stupid. But if he were healthier, it probably would have trusted her to be real too. Instead he relied on his head to notice the difference between his girl on fire and the Mocking Jay.

This Katniss agreed to everything without thinking of surviving. His Katniss wouldn't care for the propaganda Coin was shoving down her throat. She would have weighed the benefits against her strengths. Would have gathered her own information and made a informed decision. The Mocking Jay was nothing but a tool, used to mess with his nearly fried brain.

He couldn't pretend that she didn't have certain powers of persuasion; Gale and Prim believed her to be the Girl on Fire, even Haymitch believe she was the same girl to volunteer for her sister, but I knew better.

I also knew that I couldn't convince them otherwise.

Instead I plotted the many ways I could kill this fake. A simple slit through her throat would be anticlimatic, she needed to be punished for getting their hopes up. She needed to be dealt with.

I thought it would take a while for my plan to be thrown into action, to have a hope of being in the same room as this Mocking Jay. Instead she came to me, willingly. She knew I knew, and wanted a chance to convince me as she had them. I had her by the throat in seconds. The fury nearly blinding me.

My Katniss, the girl I saved with the bread, the one who stole my heart at such a young age was dead, and in her place was this mockary of her. I let my fury-rimmed eyes stare into hers as I whispered how I would plot her death in the most painful ways, and I watched as her irises dialated to tiny pin-pricks of fear.

I feel as my arms are grabbed and I am thrown to the floor. I'm scared. Is she really that good, that she could convince them so fully? Did she send the to save me only so she could watch the life fade from my eyes. Or have I been the one in the dark. The one to believe the lies. Was this really my Katniss, my Girl on fire?

It frightens me to think of what I'd like to do to you.


4 years ago

katniss/peeta, it's the way your shoulders shake and what they're shaking for
Katniss/Peeta, Memory Play, pg, spoilers for Mockingjay

I’ve never seen you shake with a bow in hand. You’re aiming oddly, the point of the arrow a bit too far right.

It’s wrong. You’ve got it wrong. You’re going to miss. You’re going to let him live.

You’re going to kill us all.

But you didn’t miss – she was your target all along. Not him – you fool. You fucking mutt.

No. No, she wanted more Games. You didn’t miss.

She’s tumbling now over the edge – you’re watching her go, a slick smile on your face. I bet there are fangs behind those lips. I bet.

You’re watching him drown now – drown in laughter and bile and blood. You’re still smiling.

No, not anymore. They’re taking you away. Taking you from me. I see what you’re doing, leaning down, grabbing for the Nightlock pill.

You can’t have it. No. No. No.

You can’t leave me.

They’ve got you by the arms now. You’re screaming for him. I don’t blame you. You’ve drawn blood on my hand, your teeth as sharp as razors. But I’ve got the pill. I’ve got it right here.

I think they’re going to kill you now – relieve me of your curse.


I’m chasing them now. There’s so much panic, they don’t even notice I’m following them. Following you. They can’t have you. You can’t go. I need you.

I followed you until you were sedated and pulled behind thick doors. I tried to claw my way through. I did. But then there were arms pulling me back, a beard rubbing against my scarred skin. I tried to fight him off. I tried.

That’s all I remember before they locked you up.

Real or not real?


4 years ago


4 years ago


4 years ago

Glimmer/Foxface - she ran down the forest slope, the forest that once was green, was colored black by those killing machines.
perfect omfg. amazing prompt. I'm going to try my best to fill it :}


4 years ago

Hazelle Hawthorne or any mother, "Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son." (Titus Andronicus)
OHHHH MANNN that is my favourite shakespeare monologue. i need this, omfg.
Effie/Haymitch, I finally had my eyes opened to the reality of the world around me. I don't know if I'm grateful of not


March 29 2012, 07:55:24 UTC 4 years ago Edited:  March 29 2012, 20:31:39 UTC

Sometimes he wants to kill her. This woman, in her bright wardrobe of unnecessary clothing and impractical nails. Her heavily accented voice drives him to a rage fairly often, at least once every two days. It scares him how badly he wants to bash her face in. He tries to drink the impulse away, fucks her instead, but it's always in the back of his mind.

But he loves her too. She's got a good nature, motherly to the point of suffocation. She's kind to Katniss and she's respectful to Greasy Sae, manners she would say. Peeta is teaching her to bake, she burns her cakes and her bread is doughy, but she likes to sing while she works in the kitchen (her accent disappears when she sings). She doesn't sing all that well, can't hold a tune for the life of her. Sometimes when he's very drunk he'll sing with her, keeping the tune going and the two of them together actually sound pretty good. Her voice high and clear and his steady and keeping them both in check.

She doesn't wear a wig anymore, she knows how much he hated it. She's changed so much for him, he knows that, he sees that. And he knows he hasn't done anything in return. She's a good person, a beautiful person. He loves her with what is left of his heart and wonders why she stays.

But the Capitol is in her so deep, it's in her pores and in her voice, even the way she walks. He wants to take a knife and cut it out of her. Nothing so beautiful and so pure and so goddamned innocent should have sprung from that wretched place. He lived his life thinking the world was good and evil, Capitol and District. But then Effie Trinket trotted into his life in six inch heels and threw his whole way of thinking straight out the nearest window.

You know I wrote this and then i started thinking that you probably wanted something about how her world was turned upside down...wooops....


4 years ago

Effie, My work is the only ground I've ever had to stand on.

enobaria, teeth sinking into heart