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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katniss, the dreams in which i'm dying are the best i've ever had


April 25 2012, 02:08:20 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  April 25 2012, 02:32:46 UTC

(new to this ficfest and livejournal in general, so sorry if I made any mistakes...)
Katniss Dreams PG, Spoilers for Mockingjay

The world rushed around Katniss.

Things had passed in a blur. There had been questions, demands, shouting, handcuffs, trials, so many people watching her, gauging her. It didn't bother her- it was ridiculous. She lived in her own mind. They could watch from a distance, pressing their faces up against the glass of her barriers, like Capitol children at the things they called 'zoos'.

The concept was the epitome of the differences between the Capitol and the Districts. In the Districts, people lived. In the Capitol... it seemed the people of the Capitol had only watched. Watched the Games each year, and then counted down the days for the next one, waiting for those weeks when they could feel a bit alive, transfer a bit of the excitement of the screens into their own lives. She could almost pity them. Almost.


Katniss had lived apart since the moment the arrow had flown, towards the woman who had ended it all.

Brought peace to the Districts.

Overthrown the child-killers of the Capitol, torn their frivolities away and forced them to face harsh reality.

Killed Prim.

There were others responsible, but her lust for revenge had died with President Coin. It had to have. It had to have.

But there was no hiding how her eyes had burned with hatred, her hands itched for her bow, when Gale had visited. One of the few disruptions to her state of comfortable detachment.

He hadn't come again.

At night, she dreamed. She was back at that Reaping that had started the whole thing, volunteering in her sister's stead. Training with Peeta and Haymitch. Performing before the Gamekeepers. Standing in the circle of the Arena, listening to the countdown.

Funny how Katniss had once been so terrified of these memories.

They seemed so mundane now, in comparison.

They almost made her nostalgic, in a sick way.

The only one that could still hurt her was Rue's death, but in her dreams the girl was always by her side, always hauntingly, vibrantly alive. As if to only make it crueler when she had to wake.

She fought the 74th Hunger Games so many times, exploring every inch of the last Arena built by Seneca Crane.
Sometimes it was she and Rue who won, sometimes she and Peeta, though Rue never died.

Sometimes it was the foxfaced girl, triumph glinting in her vulpine eyes as she accepted the Victor's Crown. Katniss could hardly bedgrudge her that. She had been one of the smartest people in the Arena. Sometimes it was Cato, or Clove, or both of them. Only fair. They had been training their whole lives for that moment, after all. Once or twice it was Glimmer, or Thresh, or the boy who had rigged the bombs. Occasionally it was Glimmer, lovely and undistorted by the venom that had claimed her life.

Katniss died a hundred deaths, drowning in the river, succumbing to illness or starvation, watching her life's blood drain into the grass.

It didn't matter.

The twenty three other tributes were her closest companions, the Arena her home.

At least then she had been fighting for something worth fighting for.


5 years ago


5 years ago


In starlit nights I saw you
So cruelly you kissed me
Your lips a magic world
Your sky all hung with jewels
The killing moon
Will come too soon

Deleted comment

Katniss/Peeta, The Shape of the Word "Prim", R

“Prim!” My voice rips through the quiet night and instantly I feel the arms around me clench tightly and pull me closer. I push back, determined to pull away my sweat slicked skin from the boy next to me, if only to capture my breath back in my lungs.

His fingers slip against me and suddenly my urging forward has rid me of him and I’m off the bed on the floor. I lean back on my hands and look up to the startled eyes that meet mine over the edge of the mattress. My hair is sticking to my face.

“Katniss, come back to bed.” It’s a quiet plea in the dark of the room. I can see his pained expression. I stand, taking a tentative step towards the door before turning around and rejoining him. I don’t immediately fold myself into his arms, instead choosing to sit with my body taunt against the headboard.

He watches me from where his head rests on the pillow at my hip.

“It’s okay to be sad.” He whispers. I can feel the tears burning at the backs of my eyes and I wrap my arms tightly around myself. I miss her. Oh, I miss her.

I feel his fingers grip mine tightly and I can’t help the sob that rips from me. When it doesn’t stop he’s up and pulling me close, running his fingers through my tangle of hair and breathing against my neck.

If I wasn’t so consumed with my own pain I’d feel his body racked with sobs next to me. We don’t talk about Prim.


“You know, if I hadn’t killed Coin, we’d probably still be underground.”

Her voice is singsong among the trees. I don’t see her on ground level but I know she’s close to me, always is when we go out into the forest. It’s become a weekend ritual for us, spending the days in the wild. She hunts, I gather, and we come to terms with just being near each other.

“I don’t think you could survive down there. You need this like a plant needs the sun.” I hear her laugh above me and look up to see her perched in a tree. “Consider it self-defense.” Her laughter is cut short at my words and I feel her mood shift.

“I don’t feel bad about it, you know.” I look at the ground as I hear her clamoring down behind me. She places a hand on my shoulder and I shift the bag I’m carrying.

“Good.” My eyes meet hers carefully. I am glad she killed her. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with Victor’s – we see some deaths as good things. Even by our own hands.


“Cato was huge! Do you remember? That was his weapon.” We’re drunk and I’m not sure if it’s bitter anger or utter despair that’s filling me but I can’t stop my spewing of words.

It’s the first real anniversary of the start of the Games and neither Peeta or I could stand to be alone in our house. Instead we migrated to Haymitch’s where he was already ass-deep in liquor. We joined in immediately breaking all of our self-imposed rules.

“He was, he was terrifying!” Peeta agrees. I pour us all another shot.

“I think the worst was Glimmer – she just fell apart.” Haymitch joins in. I feel sick to my stomach, mocking the dead. But they’re dead and I’m going to hell anyways.

“I don’t know, Marvel was cocky. He kept talking about the riches he would have when he got home.” Peeta interrupts.

And the circle goes round, each of us reviewing the Tributes who were more torture than friend. We don’t talk about Rue. We don’t talk about Thresh. And we keep drinking until it dissolves into quiet sadness at our words.


5 years ago


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5 years ago

victors!clove/cato, and lastly you're all alone with nothing left but sleep / but sleep never comes to you / it's the guilt and forever wakefulness of the weak / it's just you and me
haymitch/effie, regrets are old excuses to be bad
haymitch/effie, i would swim across oceans and move entire mountains for you, i just don't want anyone else to know that
yesss pleasee ♥


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finnick/annie, i believe in anything that brings you back home to me
gale/madge, last night on earth
Haymitch/Peeta, "you could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him."
johanna/finnick, a dark world aches for a splash of the sun
Gale/Johanna. Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when our common goal was waiting for the world to end.
Oooh. Yes.


5 years ago


Darling I'm killed
I'm in a puddle on the floor
Waiting for you to return
Oh what a thrill
Fascinations galore
How you tease
How you leave me to burn
It's so deadly my dear
The power of having you near


April 12 2012, 15:03:05 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  April 12 2012, 15:03:23 UTC

Cato and Clove
Now close your eyes
it's getting dark and the highway's clear
No sign of life from front to rear
It's just you my dear
On the ride home
We're going home

primrose, she had a fire inside and that terrified you, you swore that you'd never lose your control
Side note: This meme is introducing me to all sorts of wonderful new music. (Yeah, I’m kind of a pop culture loser).

Title: There is a reason people fear fire.

Sometimes Primrose thinks Katniss and their mother are more alike than either one would dare admit. Both of them are emotional creatures.

Prim knows that she is frozen in Katniss’ mind as that young starving sister that Katniss had to save. Prim knows her mother can’t bear to look at Katniss because she looks so much like their father it hurts and that she is frozen in her mother’s mind as that baby girl who is the last link to her beloved husband.

Her mother’s sadness is a bottomless ocean that will never end. Katniss’ anger at that ocean is a never-ending fire. Prim is deadly afraid of both.

Oceans drown and fire devours and the bodies that remain are twisted beyond recognition.

Prim is not surprised when her sister volunteers for her. Prim knows that Katniss would burn the world down to keep her safe.

And then Katniss does.

Prim sees the moment Katniss gives into her fire in the area. She seems the moment that she forgets that burning down the world only results in scorched earth and burns scars that never fade.

Katniss may be coming back from the arena but the world has changed and the fire in her soul is consuming the world. Prim doesn’t understand this fire inside of Katniss. She doesn’t understand this madness that will devour the oxygen in a room and burn down an entire country.

Primrose always was more her father’s child.

And so she promises to herself that she’ll never be devoured.

The sister she gets back from the 74th games burns infinitely brighter than she did before she left. The sister she gets back from the 74th games has given into her fire so much you can see it the light coming out of her pores. The sister she gets back from the 74th games has given into the fire the same way their mother gave into her ocean and Prim fears between an ocean and a fire no one will be safe.

Prim fears and holds herself ever more to structure, routine, and control. Her braids are always constrained. Her mind grows cautious and she watches the Quarter Quell come around and know that the fire is just going to get worse.

She likes thirteen. In Thirteen people neither drown nor burn. In Thirteen, there is order and logic and above all else control. She looks down at her tattooed arm feels safe instead of constrained. In Thirteen she beings to hope that she might make it out alive.

And as the bomb spits fire and devours her whole she realizes that there is no escaping the fire.
katniss, how can i instill such hope, but be left with none of my own?
peeta/katniss, all sparks will burn out in the end
Peeta/Katniss, oh no what have I done? there is no one to keep me warm
Madge (maybe Gale/Madge), the loneliest girl in the world


April 13 2012, 00:19:49 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  April 13 2012, 00:31:49 UTC

madge, the loneliest girl in the world, pg, minor spoilers for thg

At the age of five it's clear to Madge that she's no good at making friends. She's quiet and the other kids intimidate her. Her first day of school and she wants to run for cover, wrap her tiny hand around her father's. She's never felt so abandoned, so alone before. When some kids ask her if she's really the mayor's daughter and start including her in their conversations, Madge discovers that her father could be her ticket to recognition. She’s desperate for it.
Madge doesn't really like her new friends. They're too brass for her liking. But at least it's better than sitting by herself, so she sticks around. It's not until they're picking on a boy from the seam, whose eyes are particularly red and swollen, that they make her feel sick. Madge remembers him from the memorial last weekend. "He just lost his father," she counters in his defence and they stare at her with incredulous eyes. Madge can feel their cruel whispers behind her back from that moment on.
"Make sure that when you look in the mirror, little Madgie, you can be proud of the person staring back at you," her father says. Madge sits by herself the next day. The gaping black hole still gnaws at her. They never made a difference. It's like she's hollow on the inside.
Madge decides to start over and finds her eyes darting to the seam kids every now and then. They catch her looking and when a girl walks over Madge offers her one of the strawberries from her lunch box. She returns to her parents black eyed and bottom lip torn that day and Madge is certain that girl fisted some of her blonde locks home. Being the richest girl in town didn't exactly help her case. Madge wallows in the idea that she may as well have been the poorest.
Madge arrives at her doorstep shaking and crying. But her father is at work, he won't be home till nine. She doesn't have a mother to spill her worries to either. Instead Madge's met with one of her mother's cries as she turns the key in the lock. They're the closest she'll ever get to a conscious mother. When Madge reaches her mother's bedroom she abides her wish for another shot of the morphling. The house dies down again, so does her mother.
It's when Madge plays the piano that she comes alive. Most of the times she feels like a machine that’s stuck in routine. She wakes, eats, goes to school, comes home, stills her mother's tears, drowns in her own and goes to sleep. In between there's nobody that notices her existence. She might as well be dead. When she plays, Madge feels like she matters. Madge looks into her mirror every night and tries to tell herself she's proud. Lying to herself is an easy thing to do.
One day Madge's startled by a chair scraping over the floor during lunch. She looks up and gapes in surprise. "It isn't taken right?" a girl meets her eyes but Madge just stares like dead fish. "The chair, I mean, it's -" "It's not!" Madge snaps to her senses and the girl smiles nervously in response. Madge recognizes the sadness she carries, like a friend she knows too well. They don't talk much after that. In fact, they don't talk at all. But Madge figures it's okay. Because through their silence they talk and talk like never before. In their loneliness they bond.
Day by day, Madge feels a little less hollow.

(It's not until she gives Katniss the pin that Madge looks into the mirror for the first time and is proud of what she sees.)


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hijacked!peeta, any pairing, and that's me, that's me. the boy with the broken halo.
hijacked!peeta; your head will collapse if there's nothing in it, and you'll ask yourself where is my mind?
Haymitch, who are you are is not what you did
So, right. This seriously took about fifteen left turns off your original prompt, went insanely AU to infinity and beyond, and basically did the equivalent of ending up in Milwaukee when it was supposed to be somewhere like Tampa.

But since it mentions a little bit of Two, I figured I'd give it a shot anyway for you?
Clove and/or Cato, people throw rocks at things that shine
Quick one for you. First shot at writing Cato here so hopefully not too far off the mark. :)

Chars: Cato, Brutus
Ships: Cato/Arena Glory? :D
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None, really

Preparing for the interviews, Cato thought that Katniss wasn’t all that much to look at, skinny and short and like her neck could be snapped easy as the chicken’s neck he had wrung in training when he was ten. Sure, she’d volunteered and that was something he could almost respect because the twelve-year-old sister was laughable as a tribute. Unfortunately, volunteering hadn’t moved Twelve’s chances up all that much and that was the point of volunteering, right? Like all Twelve tributes, she looked like easy pickings. Cato said as such to Brutus and his mentor just laughed, took another drink off his wine, and said, “She’s got an eleven so she’s got something there. You never know, even with a place as lousy as Twelve. Haymitch Abernathy didn’t look a whole hell of a lot either until he got a knife in his hands.”

And your buddy Haymitch Abernathy looks like shit now, Cato almost said. Sure, he’d outlasted forty-seven others and killed two of Two’s own tributes along the way in close-quarters combat. That was a feat anyone back home would admit was worthy of respect. But that was when Haymitch actually been some kind of warrior, not the lazy drunk asshole he was now. Not the mentor to Panem’s most pathetic tributes, every single year.

But he kept his mouth shut, knowing he’d better keep Brutus on his side. Brutus Allemand may have had an embarrassment of a Games as a victor, but in his twenty-three years of mentoring, Two brought home the crown seven times. Nobody ever worked harder for his tributes than Brutus. Maybe because whatever bit of their reflected glory fell onto him was the only way he could prove he wasn’t a total failure. “So we should take her down early.” That was only logical strategy--take out any potential power players as quickly as possible.

“Of course. You get after her right from the gong if you can.” Brutus smiled and leaned back in his chair, blue eyes cool as he studied Cato. “After all, even an eleven’s still worth nothing if she’s dead in a hurry. You’ll have Peeta Mellark in the pack with you to help find her and take her down.” He chuckled dryly. “So maybe Haymitch is finally doing what it takes to make a victor. Too bad for him. Get the girl, Cato, then get rid of the boy when he’s no further use. I’ll give you the edge over Clove this year. Barely. But I’ll give it.”

Cato understood what he meant by that. Brutus’ bets were all on him. Good. They ought to be. After he took down Katniss Everdeen then everyone would see he'd been the one to bet on all along, and her flames and her sparkle were just distraction.

He thought about her, in that flaming costume of hers the night of the chariot rides. Shiny and eyecatching and everybody had loved her. Glimmer was shiny too in that polished One way, but he knew underneath that she was a ruthless bitch ready to do whatever was needed, so he was ready for her. He wondered if someone threw a rock at Katniss Everdeen’s persona of the Girl on Fire, the Girl Who Saved Her Sister, and broke through that shiny exterior, if she’d just shatter to pieces because that was all she had. He thought so.

The only shiny things that ever lasted in the arena were those that were also made of steel. She shined. He knew that much. He didn’t know about the steel. The arena would test that for him, break her open and see what was really inside, and he would be there with his sword and ready for her.


5 years ago


5 years ago

Rue, oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up
cato/katniss I’ll lay down on your bed of coals/Offer up my heart and soul/But in return/I want you to burn

it's been nine bitter years since I've been seeing your face
And you're walking away, and I will die in this place