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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Glimmer, From the moment I was six I felt sexy. And let me tell you it was hell, sheer hell, waiting to do something about it

cato/clove Light of my life, fire in my loins be a good baby, do what I want
Johanna/Finnick you're gone and I'm haunted (Actually, I wouldn't be mad if this was anyone else.)
Johanna/Finnick he and I had something beautiful / but so dysfunctional it couldn't last
gale/johanna, who else is gonna put up with me this way?
Hey, you. Stop leaving prompts that I want to write.


4 years ago


4 years ago

Gale/Johanna we're not that different after all
mirror mirror on the wall, who's the most broken of us all?| gale/johanna, past!gale/katniss, past!finnick/johanna | pg-13 | MJ spoilers


“You must be so proud of her,” Caesar Flickerman says on the television screen.

Finnick Odair turns to Annie Cresta, beaming and flashing his irresistible smile at the audience. “Of course I am. She was so brave.”

Flickerman says, “Of course she is. So, so brave.” And the audience claps politely, and there nothing more is said because Annie Cresta the Victor has gone mad and all anyone feels is pity.

That’s what everyone sees in Finnick’s eyes as he looks at Annie: a desperate mixture of pride and pity (everything a mentor should feel).

But Johanna Mason knows him too well. He knows the look on his face, and she can see it in his eyes.

She sees love.

And fuck, does it kill her.

Katniss Everdeen’s lips are on Peeta Mellark’s again and the entirety of the Capitol is swooning.

Gale Hawthorne knows Katniss. They were best friends, hunting partners, root and stem, bow and arrow. He knows that before now, she wasn’t in love with the baker. She never felt anything for him but a sense of District partnership, a sense of obligation.

But this time, it’s different. He knows her too well. He knows the look on her face, and he can see it in her eyes.

He sees love.

And fuck, does it kill him.


The whip strikes his back again, anguish shooting through his shackled body. Crimson rivers of blood snake down his naked olive skin, and he is humiliated –but he doesn’t scream. He can hear the animalistic noises escape his lips, his face twisted in agony, but he doesn’t scream.

Again and again, they whip him, the crack echoing throughout the square, but he doesn’t scream.

He won’t let them have that.

She is soaked yet again, an agonizing wave of electricity shot through her shackled and nearly-naked body. The pain that rips her apart is like no other, and she is humiliated –but she doesn’t scream. She is wet, cold and hairless, her veins begging for death, but she doesn’t scream.

Again and again, they send the shocks running through her body, the Capitol man’s yells echoing throughout the chamber, but she doesn’t scream.

She won’t let them have that.


4 years ago


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Effie/Haymitch, Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then

Finnick/Annie I love you like a starfish loves the salty water
katniss!games - once there was a way to get back home, sleep pretty darling do not cry.
Finnick/Katniss || “A bird may love a fish, but where would they live?”
holy water cannot help you now
see i've had to burn your kingdom down
and no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out
i'm gonna raise the stakes, i'm gonna smoke you out
cato/katniss drink the diver dry, 1a/?

The train speeds up and Cato shivers with excitement. He looks around the carriage, searching desperately for something to drink and spots a bottle of wine. Ah, yes. Even though at the Academy there weren’t many occasions to try alcohol, Cato likes wine best: it’s as red as blood but not quite as sweet. He relishes the taste of it. He should have broken the rules more frequently back at District 2, he muses with some regret, but now it’s irrelevant. For the next couple of days, he will break the rules hard and fast and no-one will be able to stop him.

The door opens and Cato’s attention shifts to his fellow tribute. He didn’t pay much attention to her at the Reaping, he just caught her name, Clove, knowing that he’ll have plenty of time to work her out later.

Clove’s tall, with dark hair, but nothing much. She’s wearing a gun-metal grey expensive dress that matches the color of her eyes. She sits down on the sofa, and tilts her head to the side.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cato,” she extends her hand, sounding almost pleasant. Cato grins his predatory grin and, because he’s in the mood, replies, “No, the pleasure is all mine”.

She rolls her eyes, and no one has ever done that to Cato before. Interesting, he thinks, because she doesn’t seem to be afraid. Back home, he had quite a reputation. He heard what people said about him: Cato is a big-balled, crazy-eyed, motherfucking killing machine, and if you stand on his way, he will claw into your chest, tear out your heart, and send goodbye letters to your family. And he lived up to that description. Parents warned their children about him. Other Careers feared and respected him. It all flattered him, really.

But this girl, with her cat-like moves and smooth tongue, seems blatantly relaxed and unnerved by his presence. Cato’s not an idiot. Clove might not be afraid, but she’s a true Career. She is competition and he’ll be keeping an eye on her just as she’ll be keeping an eye on him, he has no doubt about that.

“That,” says Clove, like she is reading his mind, “is probably true”.

Before he has a chance to make this conversation more entertaining, Anthea, their escort, bursts into the room. She’s all excited, too excited for Cato’s taste.

“Oh, I see you’ve already befriended each other, how marvelous!” She paces around the carriage. “But you haven’t heard the news! Nothing like that has ever happened before!”

“Oh, do tell us, Anthea” drawls Clove, feigning interest, her attention entirely focused on the silver knives laid out evenly on the table.

“District 12 has had its first volunteer since, oh, I don’t know, ages! It was all really rather extraordinary. She stepped in, you see, to save her sister from being reaped, the poor thing. It was such a brave thing to do, and so sad at the same time, because her family is, naturally, devastated…”

Now, that is interesting, thinks Cato, Anthea’s words fading into the background. District 12? Cato has been there once, when his uncle won the Games, a good couple of years back. And a volunteer? He’ll believe it when he sees it.

“… and the Capitol is absolutely thrilled, and well, who wouldn’t be? Naturally, she’s on everybody’s lips.”

Cato is mildly irritated. Of course, everyone would be talking about her, but his irritation soon fades. Anyway, it’s not like she’s going to survive for long, those from 12 never do. They are all weaklings and that girl probably never held a knife or any other weapon in her hand, excluding maybe a fork.. As soon as she’s dead, everyone will forget about her.

“Do you want to watch the recap?” asks Anthea in a flippant manner. Now that she delivered the news of the day, she busies herself with eating a creamy cake in yellowish color that makes Cato sick.

Clove shoots her a look that could kill.

“And waste my time? No, thanks, I’ve got better things to do than watch children with tearful expressions, scared out of their lives. They always behave like poor little squirrels. Honestly, someone should just kill them and save Panem all the embarrassment. ”



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Johanna, it's a bad night to be alone, but that's the way it goes
Gale/Johanna, I'm fucking crazy in love with you and you're just fucking crazy.
Peeta/Katniss, All the monuments they made were dedicated to the war. We had to make the monuments to peace ourselves.
and the history books forgot about us, peeta/katniss, spoilers for mockingjay.

Sometimes they try to forget her.

Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, the Mockingjay, the girl who burned and burned and burned until she nearly set herself alight and they try to forget her. It's unsurprising. They're them, after all, and they don't know what happened and they don't want to know. The knowledge would eat them alive. She doesn't blame them, except for when she does.

It's not that they try to forget her name. They love her name. They love her story, except for the end of it. They don't care for the consequences. People never do. They don't love that, but they love everything else and they build for her. Well, they say it's for her. Katniss knows better. She watches them build their monuments to her; to the games; to everything she fought against. There's a library named after her. A museum. They declare a holiday. There are statues. Her name is everywhere.

No one cares about her.

She watches her mother talk on the screen, once, about her. About everything she did. She watches the camera pan out and she sees one of those stupid statues, rigid and tall and she can see her name on it and she can see a bunch of names, the names of the dead they say. She doesn't mean to do it but there's a vase in her hand and then a vase through the screen and she's screaming.

They're remembering everything wrong.

She cries until she can't anymore, until her chest is heaving and her ribs feel like they're bruises. She cries for everything she's lost, again, and for everything they're not saying and for everything the people out there can't, won't, and don't want to know. She cries because she knows the truth and they don't and it was war and they're celebrating it being over by building huge monuments to it, by talking about it over and over again until her ears are ringing with nothing but the word. War.

Katniss has survived war and she wants nothing more to do with it.

She goes to find Peeta.

When she does find him, in his house by an easel, he looks at her for a long moment. Her eyes are red, she knows, and her face is probably puffy. She'd pulled at her hair as she cried. She does that a lot. She's not self-conscious about it, because this is Peeta and out of everyone she knows he'd understand. He understands better than she does a lot. For a long moment, she doesn't say anything. She just tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks at him. He smiles and stands, comes over to her.

She's not sure if she goes to him or if he pulls her to his chest, but she's resting her head against it anyway. His heart is beating right by her ear. Katniss closes her eyes and breathes him in, focuses on the dull, steady rhythm of his heart. It's a beautiful sound. They've had war and this is her peace.

Curling her fingers into his shirt, Katniss asks, "Will you paint for me." Except it's not a question and she doesn't make it one. She needs it, now. She knows Peeta will get that.

"What do you need?" Peeta asks. She smiles into his chest and then stands back. She's had her moment and it's time to pull herself together now. Time to rebuild.

"Paint me meadows," she says. "And flowers. And sun. And laughter." It's silly. She's not asked him to paint people--he can't paint laughter. But he doesn't say that. He just nods and reaches out to smooth her hair.

"Of course. For you."

This is her peace.


4 years ago


4 years ago

gale - All the rowboats in the oil paintings
They keep trying to row away, row away
(or the general theme of liberation)
katniss/mrs everdeen oh i wish we could be like that / every mothers day

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catch me before it's too late; prim; pg-13

I never asked for my sister to Volunteer for me.

I knew my name would be called; hoped, prayed, but I knew it was futile. I knew that something would happen, that it was my turn - call it fear or intuition, it doesn't matter.

I knew and I was ready to take it on, to fight until I was killed (because how could I win, against everyone, against the Careers?).

And then Katniss stood up - and she fought for me, because of me.

She won because I wanted to her, I and that little girl, Rue, the girl she held and buried in the flowers.


She is the face of the revolution but I didn't ask her to be.

She is a target, she is a hero, she is a thousand different things depending on who you ask.

The only constant is that she is my sister - is that she cares about me, perhaps more than even Peeta, the boy with the bread, the boy she kissed to stay alive.


I am going to die in this war.

I am going to die, and I know this to be true; because I can't stay alive, because I can't survive in this world that I know nothing of. Katniss is the girl on fire, is the hero of the story, and I'm the background. I'm her sister and nothing more. I've never helped her, never fought like she has. She's fought, she's killed, and I've sat at home and watched it all.

I am going to die and that's okay. I'm not afraid.

Katniss has saved me for this long.

She doesn't need to save me any longer.


4 years ago


4 years ago

Buttercup - Hear this now: I will always come for you.


4 years ago


4 years ago


4 years ago

johanna/finnick (or gale) the truth is a line, that you'll never use
Katniss, tribute muttations - Following the 74th Games, Katniss asks for the mutts and they are turned over to her care. For what reason? For what purpose? Your choice...
Not really the same, but I started an AU where Cato wins and takes mutt!Clove with him, if you're interested.
katniss, trying to start a flame in the heart of the night
katniss/johanna, in her kiss i taste the revolution / rebel girl you are the queen of my world
cato/clove or finnick/johanna, i've lost the only love worth fighting for