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

[ ficathon ] the girl on fire

Tags: book: hunger games trilogy, ficathon!
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 5263 comments
Cato/Glimmer knives don't have your back
The first thing Glimmer notices is which of them are pretty. She watches the Reapings in her compartment curled up in bed with a very expensive glass of wine and looks at their faces, their bodies, the way they walk. She dissects them like a scientist with laser eyes and a stony face. And, like every year, there are several who get her attention. Two Boy has a model’s face and a flawless body no doubt sculpted to be both powerful and beautiful. Nine Girl is gorgeous despite a frumpy black skirt that reaches her calves and a red face free of makeup. As she blushes and trembles on the stage, Glimmer imagines her in a glittering gown with her face painted and polished, imagines her under a sweaty politician with those pretty blue eyes staring up at nothing and empty and dead.

Then there’s Eleven Girl. She’s steadfast and brave on the stage with her little head up high and her button nose and big, big doe eyes on the clouds. She’s twelve and looks about nine, but her coffee skin is creamy and luscious and her lips are full and flushed and her body is wiry and girlish and teaming with young energy and, yes, they would like this.

Such a shame.

--

After they take her clothes, one of the men in the prep team gropes her breasts, and her handler rounds on him with angry eyes and says, don’t you dare.

Her hands skim Glimmer’s shoulders like an artist reorganizing paintbrushes and her eyes say, not yet, anyway.

--

They look at everyone and imagine their death. This is nothing new. Glimmer recognizes it like her own fingerprint in the Two Girl who sizes up Boy Six, a scrawny thing that has a good seven inches on her, and her eyes say, yes, for you I’ll twist the knife in your stomach and put my fingernails through your eyes and watch the blood rain down. Glimmer looks at them and imagines them victors, and for her that’s also nothing new. Girl Eight playing the little lost girl who needs Daddy to punish her. Two Boy as everyone’s party favor. The delicious irony of Boy Eleven, so powerful and stoic, helpless in chains before them.

Glimmer catches Girl Eleven giggling at something her partner said, and then she knows that, if nothing else, she must kill this one.

--

Alliance with Two Boy, as long as she can until he becomes dangerous, is the way to win. The girl is menacing and flat-chested and Marvel is too lanky and has too harsh a face and, anyway, she remembers his handprint on her hipbone at the Academy as if he’d branded her there. But Two Boy, oh, he’s got the sort of face that makes ladies swoon and men hungry and the world fall in love even while he’s plunging his sword into Nine Girl’s chest over and over and over and, well, at least she’s safe now. And so Glimmer touches his chiseled chest and laughs in his ear and ghosts her fingers over his crotch while they organize the supplies at the lake. His acting is pitch-perfect, but he’s on autopilot, and they find all the cameras and make sure their glimpses and grins at each other hit the audience in all the right places. Two is not interested in girls but palms her ass anyway because he knows how this game is played and, well, at least he won’t expect them to care when he only wants the men. They fool around a little under the tree, enough to give Two an impressive hickey but no more. She knows to tease but not to deliver. That’s for later. That’s for after.

Two would spear her without a second thought.

And maybe she can do this. Maybe she can knife Two Boy in his sleep and have her mace ready for Two Girl who will inevitably turn hungry, vengeful eyes on her, and maybe she can offer Marvel everything he’s wanted for a year and then give him poison in his belly instead. Maybe she can stay alive, stay dead, come home the loser because Glimmer knows that nobody wins this Game.

She thinks she’d prefer her neck snapped by Two Boy to Two Girl’s delicate knives.

azelmaroark

5 years ago

classicfreak

5 years ago

morbidmuse

5 years ago

thistlerose

5 years ago

gale/katniss, you're in my veins and i cannot get you out

gigglemonster

March 24 2012, 07:16:49 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  March 24 2012, 07:17:04 UTC

gale/katniss, all that you can save, r-ish

After she’s settled in her new home, with Gale is hundreds of feet below her in the mines, Katniss stands by the fence for hours on end just listening to the humming wires that remind her of his voice.

She thinks of his steady hands and warm breath on the back of her neck as they moved through the trees like ghosts, invisible and intangible except to each other. The bark of the tree like a language only they could speak.

They used to talk for hours.

--

Her smiles don’t come as easily anymore, even in the woods. There are times she doesn’t even bother retrieving her bow from the tree, preferring to sit silently by, watching Gale set traps. He feels guilty for never asking her if she wants to talk about the games, the things she’s seen in the arena.

But he’s not sure he wants to know. Not now when they’re so close to perfecting this silence. This passable facsimile of the ease they once had.

--

When Gale misses three Sundays in a row, Katniss finds him on his way to the mines. There’s a bruise on his cheek, probably from one of the new peacekeepers. She’s stopped in her tracks at the sight of it, thinks that whatever happened she should have been there.

She reaches out a hand to touch him but he catches her wrist between his fingers, says “It’s fine, Katniss. It’s nothing.”

Katniss. He only ever calls her Katniss now, like he's addressing a proper victor.

She wants to slap him, or shake him, and scream that she’s still the same. The angry spot on his cheek and the uncertain taste of those words in her mouth keep her silent. How can see scream at him with conviction when she can’t even persuade herself.

Is she the same?

“Good. Then I better see you on Sunday,” she says with venom, unsure who she’s even mad at anymore but furious all the same. The fact that neither of them would have to hunt another day in their lives with all the money she has goes unspoken.

--

She’s lost count of the number of times she’s packed a bag in the middle of the night.

”We could do it, y’know?”

--

Katniss catches him staring at her. His hard edges and stoic features softening, deep in thought and entirely unreadable.

She leans across the log she’s using to clean out the entrails of a rabbit, blood underneath her fingernails, and brushes her lips against his.

It only takes a second for Gale’s hands to wrap around the back of her neck, a gesture so innocently familiar that it makes her ache. His mouth claims hers and she runs her tongue along the roof of his mouth.

He pulls her onto his lap, needing to feel the weight of her body against his, to drown in her.

Katniss knows now that this is part of her victory. Her reward was a second chance at the taste of Gale on her lips and his arms wrapped around her.

--

They are only ever together deep in the woods, beyond the prying eye of cameras that aim to capture a moment that would surely mean death for one or both.

Gale traces his fingers across the crook of her elbow and the bend of her knee. He kisses the place on her collarbone where a scar used to be. Should be. His lips remember all the marks of these woods (of him) that the Capitol erased from Katniss’ skin. The ones on his own body are now without their match.

And he feels further from her in these moments than he did while watching her with a knife to her throat on the District 12 screens.

But the scrape of her nails down his back and her voice when she whispers she missed him make this feel real. Make them feel real.

Gale pulls her bare thigh up tighter against his hips and moves deeper inside her, a strangled sound escaping his lips. Katniss watches the muscles of his neck strain and she clenches tighter around him as she comes.

She listens to Gale breath and leans her forehead against his shoulder. The leaves are cool against her skin where they lie and the air smells like the ashes of their bridges being unburned.

fin



casterlys

5 years ago

gigglemonster

5 years ago

casterlys

5 years ago

gigglemonster

5 years ago

casterlys

5 years ago

outpour

5 years ago

gigglemonster

5 years ago

Johanna. Johanna/Finnick, and sometimes when you're on. you're really fucking on
Annie, i fear our blood won't rise again
Rue/Katniss, she made me feel less scared as my whole world went pitch black.

Deleted comment

stinabug87

5 years ago

classicfreak

5 years ago

Katniss/Cato, We will never say a word about the night we got lost in each other.
do want.

Deleted comment

w_addams13

5 years ago

inkspire89

5 years ago

katniss everdeen and gale hawthorne as district 12 tributes.
There was a similar prompt on the next page, I didn't see yours! I took some liberties/angles but it can be found here.

hanorganaas

5 years ago

Deleted comment

nitro26

5 years ago

red_b_rackham

5 years ago

katniss/peeta, after mockingjay, when they start getting close again and the first night they sleep together
This feels a little like cheating, but I wrote something like that a few years ago for Yuletide.

msdisdain

5 years ago

Peeta, The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body. After all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind
gale/katniss, i'll keep your memory vague
beautiful, beautiful prompt

nitro26

5 years ago

jada_jasmine

5 years ago

nitro26

5 years ago

jada_jasmine

5 years ago

gigglemonster

5 years ago

jada_jasmine

5 years ago

Peeta/Katniss, Her body is his canvas
snapshot - Peeta&Katniss (G)

He loves...well he loves all of her, but he's infatuated with the curve of her breast as she lays on her side. As the light trickles in and across her skin, he can't help but stare at the shadow that's cast by the fleshy orb. His eyes lift, skimming over the breath of her scapula and clavicle and the curve of her neck, to land on her face. The pads of his fingers itch for the feel of a paintbrush; he wants to paint her like this. Peaceful and asleep. He settles for allowing them to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. It makes her eye lids flutter and still before opening. She looks at him sleepily for just a second before recognition clears the fog.

Peeta.

He smiles.

Morning, Katniss.

beethemonster

5 years ago

lunasol28

5 years ago

red_b_rackham

5 years ago

lunasol28

5 years ago

katniss/cato, here we are, in the darkest place
Thanks so much for the wonderful prompt! The fic I wrote based on it went a little (a lot) long, but I'll leave the link for it here.

http://cherryoakly-bat.livejournal.com/3518.html#cutid1

nitro26

March 23 2012, 22:46:31 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  March 23 2012, 22:54:34 UTC

peeta/katniss, your skin and bones turn into something beautiful / you know i love you so (for you i'd bleed myself dry)
gale/katniss, let's run away and never look back
Panem, The test of the morality of a society is what it does for its children
I want this so badly.

_ark_angel_

5 years ago

Deleted comment

profshallowness

5 years ago