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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March 31 2012, 00:55:21 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  March 31 2012, 00:55:33 UTC

Cato/Glimmer, anything inspired by "Under the Sheets" by Ellie Goulding
Want, want, want!
Haymitch/Chaff, you come from another place in my chest, yes, golden brown and wooden buried
peeta/katniss; from finnick or johanna's perspective in catching fire; some call love a curse, some call love a thief


5 years ago


5 years ago

glimmer/peeta; go ahead, go way low, where I can do no wrong/got you around my finger like a lonely lover's charm
And for the boy who's given me the sweetest love I've known
I wish for him another love so hewon't be alone
But I am bound to walk among the wounded and the slain
And when the storm comes crashing on the plain
I will dance before the lightning to music sacred and profane

"Stranger to the Rain," Children of Eden
katniss (and district twelve) the winding roads that led me here (burn like coal and dry like tears)
katniss/peeta - you’re my king and i’m your lionheart
AU -> peeta is a king and katniss is his knight

if you are crazy, then so am i because *____* this needs to happen omg


5 years ago

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this prompt has been nagging at me for days so I finally just sat down and wrote it. I've never written them before though, so I apologize for the awfulness!

I only want the best for you - Gale/Madge (with hints of Gale/Katniss and Peeta/Madge)


They lie in the meadow, looking up at the stars in the dark sky. Madge’s head on his chest, her left arm draped lazily over his middle. Gale never intended to bring her here, the meadow was a place reserved for Katniss. But after a day of watching her snuggled up to Peeta in that damn cave, he needed his own form of revenge, even if she wasn’t here to witness it. He liked being out here with Madge, though. The only time he’s managed to feel the slightest bit of content is when her warm body is wrapped around him, when her lips are soft and sweet against his. But it was a quiet night and just lying here next to her was enough to put his restless mind at ease. It was late enough that even the screen in the square had the volume turned off, and the only sounds surrounding him were the crickets in the woods and Madge’s steady breathing.

“We were together once.” She says and the silence that follows displays his confusion. She continues, “Peeta and me. I’m not sure how you would describe it exactly. We were sort of friends, and then one day it was more than that.” So she must know what he’s feeling, then, why he brought her here. His eyebrows crease together and he looks down at her but he can’t see her eyes. “What?”

“It was a few months back. We just… we, we were together, in a sense. It didn’t last very long, but it happened.” Great, he thinks. Just one more girl he has to compete with the baker for. Anger overwhelms him, the peace he felt moments ago vanished. Is it not enough that he’s forced to watch the Star-Crossed Lovers on screen for hours on end? Why does the one person he’s found comfort in since the Games started have to be connected with Peeta too?

He sits up, removing his arm from Madge’s shoulder. “Why are you telling me this?” She curls her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, and looks at him sadly. “Because I wanted you to know that what you’re feeling… I’m feeling some of it, too.” He’s not grasping her words. “What are you talking about?” he asks. She sighs and stares at the grass. “I know it’s not easy for you to see Katniss in love with someone else, even if it is for her survival.” There’s no pity in her voice, but underneath his anger he feels a pang of guilt. “And though my relationship with Peeta ended a while ago, it’s still not easy for me to see him with someone else. Hearing him talk about how no one else has made an impression on him… that’s not really something you want to hear a boy you used to like say about another girl. It hurts.” Tears form in her eyes and she bites down on her lip, hard. “I’m sorry, Gale, I’m sorry for all of it.” She shakes her head. “I just wanted you to know that I understand. Maybe not completely, but I do understand.”

He’s doesn’t respond, just focuses his attention towards the woods, trying to push the anger away or keep himself from directing it at Madge. I’m the one who’s sorry, he wants to tell her, I haven’t been fair to you. But he doesn’t. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her stand and brush the grass off her shorts. She turns to go but stops. “She’ll come home to you soon.” She whispers quietly, so quietly he thought maybe she didn’t say it all. He squeezes his eyes shut for what seems like just a moment, but when he opens them again and turns around, she’s gone.
a little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now
you're here and that's all I need to know
and you will keep me safe
and you will keep me close
and the rain will make the flowers grow

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5 years ago

Peeta/Katniss, Mockigjay AU, the Capitol captures Katniss and Finnick instead of Johanna and Peeta at the end of Catching Fire.
It's kind of amazing how much I need this in my life.


5 years ago

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AU - Foxface!victor: what strength I have's mine own
ahhhhh i may have to write this!


5 years ago

Cato/Clove -I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose / Fire away, fire away / Ricochet, you take your aim / Fire away, fire away / You shoot me down but I won't fall / I am titanium
Gen -

O children

Forgive us now for what we've done
It started out as a bit of fun
Here, take these before we run away


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Now I want both of these so bad


5 years ago

cato or cato/clove, you hate the fact that you bought the dream when they sold you one

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When a boy from District 2 gutted a boy from District 7 Effie Trinket smiled, her eyes aglow and shining as the child attempted to hold his organs inside. She laughed as the boy from District 2 was stabbed by the girl from District 1. A fellow Escort bought a round of drinks for the room and Effie held hers aloft and cheered when her one of her own Tributes killed another child. Haymitch watched on from where he had plomped himself on a couch, disgust written clearly on his face.

When she was small she dreamed of being a Victor. She dreamed of smashing an opponents face in with a rock or slashing a sword across another childs belly. She grew up watching the Games every year. She would ride her fathers shoulders and they would go to a public square and cheer and scream as the Tributes fought to the death. She imagined blood and gore and honor and glory raining down upon her in an arena and basked in it.

She dreamed about it. She wanted it so badly

Effie stomped her feet and sloshed her drink when the girl from District 1 was beheaded by the boy from District 4. She cheered and was not alone, her voice was swollowed up by the clapping crowd. She turned then and looked at Haymitch. She looked beautiful, all bright eyes and wide smile, she looked horrifying as she cheered for the death of a child, and Haymitch couldn't tear his eyes off her.


5 years ago


5 years ago


4 years ago

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Smile With My Heart no rating, Haymitch/Effie

In those moments of pure silence, she looks at him. Straggly hair, scruffy beard, and though he must’ve gone through a full body polish after becoming a Victor, she feels like she can see his scars anyway.

His face is expressive of his time in the arena, though she’s only ever heard him speak of it on the rare occasion when he’s had enough to drink to think her worthy of his confessional.

He’s not in shape, and he slouches, and though she’s never looked at the old footage herself, her fellow escorts used to gush to her over how attractive he was, a young tribute in the arena. She’s always been tempted to watch, but it doesn’t feel fair, somehow.

She’ll never know who he was before being thrust into the title of Victor, and despite everything she considers wrong with him (manners, appearance, alcoholic tendencies), she doesn’t want to.

He’s the only person she knows who can be scrubbed clean and still look like he’s been through a war. His eyes look at her like they can cut through glass, the rest of his body and demeanor, a weapon and shield.

There’s nothing in him that makes her think of the word handsome, and yet when she closes her eyes next to him at night, all she can see is his beauty.


5 years ago


5 years ago

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March 31 2012, 23:13:24 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  March 31 2012, 23:13:57 UTC

Never Going Back Again close R...Haymitch/Effie (it kinda spiraled out of control from the original idea based off the prompt)

She’s gained weight.

Stepping off the scales, Effie looks into the mirror at her naked body, looking for her ribs with a frown on her face. Gone. They’ve all disappeared into a soft pillow of skin, and it’s frustrating, to say the least.

Going into the bedroom, she pulls out one of her old dresses, and wrangles her limbs and body into it. The zip only goes halfway, and she lets out quite the undignified wail, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t wear them anymore, but it had been a stroke of luck that her apartment in the Capitol hadn’t been amongst those destroyed, and sometimes when she dreams, she’s back to being Effie Trinket, Games escort- a glamour puss with her wigs and makeup and clothes.

But now…now she’s wearing District 12 clothes. Oh, she knows how to accessorise and tailor the plain clothes into something more to her taste without alienating her from the populace, but.

Effie stomps her foot once, twice, and then stops. That’s all the tantrum she’s giving herself today. Closing her eyes, she calms herself and counts to ten.


Her eyes snap open to see Haymitch in the reflection of her mirror, spins around to face him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, a teasing look in his eyes.

“Effie, what are you doing?” he drawls out, and if she weren’t caught up in her dress not fitting, she’d probably swoon a little. His gravelly voice has always been a favourite trait of hers.

What is she doing? There are a number of sensible ways to answer this, but Effie feels her face crumble and hears some pitiful voice (her own, she realises) cry out. “It…it won’t fit!”

He just continues to look at her, not quite seeing the dire problem facing her.

“And?” he asks plaintively. Rude.

“Haymitch! I can’t- I can’t zip this up anymore, and I’ve, I’ve- I’ve gained weight.” Her voice is shrill at first, but quickly turns into a whisper at her admission, she stares down to her perfectly cut toe nails, clear of polish. It’s been so long.

“Effie,” he says, a gentle voice lifting her head back up to face him. “Effie, you look perfect.”

“How can you say that? Look,” she says, turning around, “my bottom deserves its own District number!” The two of them looking into the mirror, Effie reflecting disappointment in herself.

As his arms wrap themselves around her waist, he kisses her bare shoulder. “I quite enjoy your…bottom.” He breathes against her skin, a stray hand skimming down to her posterior, and her breath hitches a little.


“Mmm yes, it’s a really nice bottom, you’ve got there, sweetheart.”

Oh god, he’s mocking her.

“Haymitch…” and it’s almost a growl that comes out of her mouth, but propriety leaves her stern instead. One does not growl. Except…her cheeks flush in memory, a smile forcing its way onto her face that she can’t quite get rid of, one traitorous arm resting on his sitting on her waist, the other reaching behind her to meet- ah yes, there he is.

Behind her, she can hear Haymitch inhale sharply, pulling her closer to him, languishing her neck with affection, growling all the while.

She smirks, and with a surprising amount of dexterity most don’t expect from her, turns in his arms and pushes him onto the bed. His eyes widen with a smile as she deliberately crawls over him, her now generous décolletage heaving out of her too small dress, pining him down to the soft mattress.

As their lips meet, he all but rips the dress off of her.


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5 years ago


5 years ago

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If You Don't Love Me Now, You Will Never Love Me Again1/2 PG Haymitch/Effie

With her impeccable sense of timing, list-following diligence, and overall organisational skills, there is many a task that Effie Trinket hasn’t been able to accomplish.

So one day when she found her pantry stocked with the ingredients needed for her absolute ever favourite dish (chicken fricassee), it was without hesitation that she popped on an apron and started busying herself around the kitchen.

After politely persuading Peeta to pluck a bird for her, the rest of it all calmly fell into place together. It might not have been chicken, but the duck went well with the sauce. Haymitch was just as pleased as she was with the outcome, singing her praises and even taking her on a silent waltz that eventually lead to their bedroom.

From then on, she would routinely team up with Peeta, and learn new sweets recipes from him-the Trinket-Abernathy household constantly stocked with breads and occasionally, the odd tart or two.

It was nice. Effie discovered a new Effie after her first foray into the kitchen, one that fit well in this new world of theirs. It was the one place in the house where she condoned mess and flour on her clothes or in her hair, and well- who knew Haymitch got such a rise out of seeing the normally pristine former-escort covered in edible products?

She grinned, kneading the dough on the floured surface, shaking her head. He was a mess the rest of the time, go figure he’d prefer her looking harried.

Her smile grew when she saw him entering the kitchen.

“Hello, Haymitch.” She greeted, leaning her cheek out for a kiss.

“Hey yourself.” he said, giving her a chaste kiss and wrapping his arms around her. “You nearly done?” he asked, nodding to the dough. She tested its pliability, and nodded. “Good, because there’s a bath upstairs with your name on it.”

“Who, me?”

He nodded, eyes dancing a little. “Uh huh- and when you’re all pruned and wrinkled, you’ll come back down here for the best dinner you’ve ever had.”

Her nose crinkled at the thought.


5 years ago

Cato, Reaction to the other tributes' training scores.
He swings one leg over the couch and then the other and slumps against Clove in front of the television. They don’t take notes. Their memories are letter-perfect from years of drills, and they aren’t very good at writing. Anyway, they’ll study the printout of the scores and watch the reruns long into the night, the little clips of raw behind-the-scenes training center footage, the slick commercials for the ones who have enough funding to get the airtime.

Clove gets a ten and he gets a nine, and he shoves her onto her back into the overstuffed candy-colored cushions. She grins at him, toothy and innocent, and says that they must have liked her show better. A ghost of a thought slashes through him, and he can’t name it but he knows it has something to do with her little wrist caught in his hand and her spray of dark freckles over her nose and how maybe the ten next to her name will keep his world together. Maybe. Maybe.

But he can’t think about that so he puts his elbow at her throat.

“You couldn’t put on a show if your life depended on it,” he growls just in time to catch Three Girl’s four.

Clove fingers a knife that wasn’t there ten seconds ago, but of course it was. “It does,” she says, her head turned to the screen and her voice far away. She’s calm and serious and doesn’t sound at all like someone who has Cato’s elbow in their neck, and he shivers at the absolute trust in her loose muscles and her distracted dark eyes.

He releases her wrist and snakes his hand down her arm and they watch the parade of numbers and don’t talk anymore.

They don’t notice that they are no longer alone in the room until they hear their escort curse and hurried footsteps and an angry, “Break it up, both of you! What the hell is wrong with you? You know better! No fighting before – ”

And Cato’s still got his elbow on her throat, that’s right. He lets her go lazily and they both look at the parade of Two adults like they’ve turned into fish. Clove finally says, “You’ll know it when we’re fighting. Believe me.”

Their mentors know this already, of course. Brutus is the one who crosses his arms and looks from one of them to the other and says, slow and careful and dangerous, “And what do you call this?”

Cato’s voice is fierce steel when he answers smoothly, “Whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

Brutus stares them down and Cato wishes that Clove would throw that damn knife at his eye.

“I call it, I-want-it-gone-by-tomorrow,” Brutus snarls.

Cato’s almost glad when District Twelve’s score gives them something else to talk about.


5 years ago


5 years ago

Katniss/Peeta (Mockingjay)

but in my strangest dreams
through nights of feverish screams
i don't know what it means
but all i see is you
gale/katniss, I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain
katniss/peeta, and he loves you even though you used to say you were flawed if you weren't free
katniss/peeta, maybe ours is the cause of all mankind: get loved, make more, try to stay alive.


April 13 2012, 16:36:05 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  April 15 2012, 11:18:27 UTC

katniss/peeta, maybe ours is the cause of all mankind (my body when it is with your body it is so quite a new thing), rated M for mature themes

part 1:

Nine months after the end of the war, when the meadow has grown lush and green again, her period comes back. Katniss is startled one morning by the stain of blood in her underwear and what it implies. Peeta and her have been sleeping together for almost half the time he’s been back to 12, and so far, they haven’t had to worry about that at least.

She is crabby with him all day.

He notices the night after, cause he’s Peeta, and he notices. He holds her, the utter comfort of it turning her ever more irritable as she sinks into his arms and listens to him babbling into her skin that it’ll be ok, they’ll find a way, they’ll just stop –

But Katniss knows better, knows the kind of hunger that claws on her inside. They share a house and a bed together like married people and, being no stranger to hunger, she knows it’s just a matter of time until it will beg to be sated. The body is too much of a traitor.

This, she realizes when she thinks of the heat when he’s moving inside her, soothing her fire, sating her need, this is why people kept on having children despite the Games.

She calls her mother, in a panic. Supply to the district is sketchy at best and she wouldn’t know where to procure something akin to birth control. The night before, she made Peeta pull out of her before he came, her limbs turning from a lovemaking tangle to those of a trapped animal, flailing in panic. The sigh he’d made, afterwards, nuzzling into her neck, had ripped at what she thinks has remained of her heart. She cannot fathom taking this away from them. Surely her mother will know of some herb, or tincture or washes or whatever it is women did hush hush in 12, before they were eligible to go in for a shot at the age of 45 or after 5 children, whichever came first.

But her mother starts talking about temperatures and observing cervical fluid and other symptoms daily, until Katniss, impatient and irritated, rips:

“Just, can’t you send me pills or tell me what kind of –”

Her mother sighs, on the other end of the line.

“I would, Katniss, but shots or the pills are scarce everywhere right now. This is the safest thing I can tell you, really.” She clears her throat over the line, like she’s forcing herself to say something she doesn’t want to. “Katniss, do you think this is wise – with Peeta, you’re still so- so young and you’re not-”

The word ‘married’ floats across the ether, unspoken.

“I’d die without him.” Katniss half-barks, half-sobs and that shuts her mother up. She doesn’t tell her about the pearl she still carries all the time or that she’d give anything to give Peeta the moment back again where he could ask her and she could choose him, say yes, of her own free will this time. That she has been thinking about a toasting but she’s not sure how any of this would bind her closer to Peeta when they're bound in blood and tears and demons and the fact that he has been through everything with her. This, her body, what they do together, is what she can give to Peeta, the only thing that no one else has had a share in.

So grumbling, Katniss agrees to have her mother send her all she needs to know and a week later a letter arrives with the gory details that she refused to have described to her over the phone. She finds the thermometer in her mother’s medical supply cabinet. And then she waits and watches and listens to her body with all the intent of a hunter. She will trick it into submission.


5 years ago


5 years ago


5 years ago