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

[ ficathon ] the girl on fire

Tags: book: hunger games trilogy, ficathon!
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haymitch/the girl back home, whiskey and you

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century_fox

4 years ago

Deleted comment

century_fox

4 years ago

hotpiexoxo

4 years ago

beethemonster

4 years ago

pocketcucco

4 years ago

president snow/katniss, from beneath you, it devours
A pairing I did not expect to see! PROPS.

chimneysmoke

4 years ago

peasantings

4 years ago

chimneysmoke

4 years ago

magic_knickers

4 years ago

imaginarycircus

4 years ago

chimneysmoke

4 years ago

imaginarycircus

4 years ago

peasantings

4 years ago

imaginarycircus

4 years ago

red_b_rackham

4 years ago

imaginarycircus

4 years ago

Katniss, circa Catching Fire/Mockingjay | when there is nothing left to burn you have to set yourself on fire
oh my god

twentyfourhours

4 years ago

Annie, the first time she sees Finnick in their son
annie cresta, nature's sons, g, slight spoiler for the series... i guess

She holds her breath when he shoots off into the water for the first time. Trust him, she reminds herself, trust what you taught him. She used to cover her eyes at the finest stress but Annie knew when he arrived (and nothing had ever felt so right in her arms, nothing held a candle to the smell of him, soft and pink and close, not the sea or anything) that those days were over. The mop of dark curls bobs innocently above the surface, growing farther away. It’s just to the rock, just to the rock and back. You know what Mags would say about going it alone.

She buries her hands in the sand as if to anchor herself on shore. A breeze whips her salt-worried hair across her eyes and she wants to cry, let the tears she’d been holding back for four years go, let the waves know the grief she’s carried and have them bear the weight as they’ve always borne her. But her boy is strong, and being strong for his sake made him so.

He’s almost at the rock when her eyes note the surge on the horizon. He hugs the mossy stone, smiling, ignorant, and pushes off again. She’s running now, calling to him. Her legs are sliding through the water, as heavy as lead. Too late, the wave crashes over his small figure and her heart goes cold. It’s happening again. Not again. Her nails are in her scalp and a gull screams overhead.

Then— It can’t be. The droplets fly from his curls as he grins, wide and white against his bronzed skin. He raises an arm and waves. Though he haunts her nightly (and they race across shoals of memory, not stopping even when their breath runs out), Annie has never seen him so radiant. She waves back.

“Mama! Mama look what I got!” The haze lifts from her eyes and the form shrinks. It’s not the golden boy she knew, no, but his blood. Their son is the very image of Finnick in the water, she can see it now. Annie Cresta reaches out across the tide and waits, as ever, for the boy in the sea to swim home.

glasslights

4 years ago

arysani

4 years ago

tilty

4 years ago

sweetbitter

March 24 2012, 11:04:33 UTC 4 years ago Edited:  March 24 2012, 11:06:35 UTC

johanna, her hunger games, my guts might never come
johanna (& annie), post-Mockingjay, hide out from the ones you know will love you
Johanna/Finnick. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Mockingjay Spoilers.

Johanna gets letters that smell like the sea.

She doesn’t open them. She doesn’t have to.

She knows what they say and she can’t bear to see the words. And pictures. If there are pictures (and Johanna believes there might be pictures) she will have to see, once and for all, the little boy. She couldn’t bear Finnick’s devilish smile and Annie’s soft eyes in the wide, full-moon face of a child by the sea. One picture and Johanna’s heart would surely fall apart like a million grains of sand and be carried away on the breath of the wind.

She can’t afford to lose her heart. Not again.

Enobaria, sneering, asked Johanna if she loved him, once.

Johanna rolled the word, love, around in her mouth for a bit. It tasted bitter and cold here in this Capitol torture chamber with Enobaria licking her lips like the devil and waiting for an answer. So Johanna said no, she did not love him, and lowered her eyes so Peeta couldn’t see the lies streaming down her face like tears.

She burns them. The letters.

She goes into the forest and smells the branches under her feet, looking for the ones that will burn the fastest, the hottest. She is District 7. The forest gives and the forest takes. She breathes in the heady smell of wood and smoke and wipes pine-tarred palms on the thighs of her pants. She watches the edges of the parchment darken and curl as Annie’s words cease to exist.

When there is nothing left, when the fire is just a fire and not a funeral pyre, Johanna stands up and walks stiffly back to her cabin on the edge of the woods.

She was a Victor, Johanna Mason. She survived. She thrived. Once. And now she lives a slow death, waiting for the post from the sea.

jada_jasmine

4 years ago

snow_blossoms

4 years ago

beethemonster

4 years ago

snow_blossoms

4 years ago

gen, the ballad of maysilee donner
WANT
Katniss, and oh poor Atlas, it was a beast of a burden, you've been holding up a long time.
peeta/katniss, desire (set during the victory tour, on the train, in catching fire)
asjdvasdas i'm loving your prompts

blue_boxes

4 years ago

blue_boxes

4 years ago

harry_styles

4 years ago

satine_59

4 years ago

Hijacked!Peeta, a white blank page and a swelling rage / you did not think when you sent me to the brink / so tell me now where was my fault / in loving you with my whole heart
*flail* BEST PROMPT EVER. I'm going to listen to that song on loop and see if I can make it make me put words down, because this NEEDS to be filled.

arysani

4 years ago

arysani

4 years ago

withdrawnred

4 years ago

arysani

4 years ago

withdrawnred

4 years ago

greenfish

4 years ago

subtlynice

4 years ago

arysani

4 years ago

subtlynice

4 years ago

Haymitch, bonding with Katniss's daughter
“They’re stronger than you’ll ever know, kid.”

He claps the girl on the shoulder as they sit together on his porch. It’s late in the evening but it’s not the first time she’s come running to escape her home. Her parents. He can’t blame her for it – the house is haunted sometimes by the people who still live in it.

He lets her lean into his shoulder and wrap his arm around her as another crash fills the air. They watch in silence as the shadows in the windows play out their show of memories and torments. It wasn’t always like this. So rarely now, since this girl’s birth, have there been times like this.

But they still happen.

“If they didn’t want me, old man, why didn’t they just... not have me?” He tenses at her words. How do you wipe that doubt from someone’s mind?

“They want you more than anything, sweetheart.” He feels her head shift, her eyes staring at him as he watches the shadows before him.

“Oh yeah? Then why does this always start because of me? I’m not stupid, Haymitch. Dad locks himself in the basement and mum refuses to leave her bed for days. They don’t even talk to me about it after. It’s like they shove it all under the rug or something.”

He knows it too. Knows that the fallout from the battle will last for days before everything settles. Each episode is like an explosion and he had hoped that they would stop before this girl could understand.

“The day you were born, your dad locked himself away. He was afraid he’d hurt you or your mum. Did you know that?” She shakes her head and sits back. There is so much that she doesn’t know about her parents. “Your loud mouth was what brought him back.”

“Oh get off it. It did not!”

“It did. His head is so full of screams, but yours, yours brought him back.”

“What do you mean, ‘his head is full of screams’? What are you talking about?” He tried to cover the surprise that she didn’t know – how could they not have told her? There’s another crash from across the yard and he sees the outline of Peeta in the window, leaning over a chair in the kitchen to hold himself steady.

“Your parents, they...didn’t have the odds in their favour. They’ve come back from a lot.” He isn’t sure where to draw the line on this story – it’s one that they should tell, not him. She studies him for a moment longer before she rests back against him.

“A boy at school told me they were in the Hunger Games. Is it true?” He knows that she knows what they are. It was part of the curriculum at school now, to study and learn from the travesty. The District school had decided to withhold participant’s names, if only to protect the living Victors. He still wasn’t sure if it was right.

He doesn’t answer, instead pulling her closer as they watch the shadows dance together in the window. For the moment, the battle seems to be over. He lifts to his feet, an unknown tension slipping from his shoulders – he knows he won’t be needed tonight.

“Come on kid, you can sleep in the guest room. Give your parents a night off.”

When she walks ahead of him into the house, he knows that her days of innocence are almost at an end. Sooner or later, she’s going to learn the truth and she’s going to get hit hard. He knows he’ll be there for her, sitting on his porch, guiding her through the fray.

It’s what Mentor’s do.

ehhhh idk about this one

century_fox

4 years ago

honorh

4 years ago

caitriona_3

4 years ago

Haymitch/Katniss. He promises her victory even though he knows he can't.
<3 there needs to be more of this

beethemonster

4 years ago

Gale Hawthorne , let's hear it for the boy
scream it (no one else will); gale; pg-13; spoilers for mockingjay

He moves away from everything, after.

When he sees Katniss and Mellark - Peeta, he reminds himself, Peeta's his name - together, nauseating in their sweetness, in the love they claim is true, he leaves.

He tried so hard - always, always tried to keep her safe, to keep her close.

But he couldn't keep her in the way that he wanted, that he thinks she might have wanted, too, once - and so he leaves, goes far, far away.

After Prim, she didn't want him around, not like she had before. After Prim, she becomes a girl worthy of Peeta; she becomes a shell of her former self, smiling less, feeling less.

Maybe that's the fate of all of them, the Victors, those who watch twenty-three children die. Maybe being around murder for that long takes its toll.

Gale doesn't know and he never will.

He wants to shout it at everyone, wants to yell it - to yell how fucked this whole thing is, how many children have died for an unjust cause, but he doesn't.

No one would listen.

He's no one.

He wasn't chosen, didn't dare Volunteer - and why should he have? Why is he any less of a hero than the boy with the bread, as Katniss has taken to calling him? Why, because he was looking out for her sister, is he any less than him?

He'd tried. He'd tried so hard, after everything, to repair what could be fixed, but her smile had faded and Peeta had gotten closer and in the end, it was better for him to leave.

He takes a train to District Two, and he tries and fails to sleep. He can't, thinking of everything he's left behind - but maybe that's not the case. Maybe he's not leaving everything but only something; maybe Katniss will fade in his memories, until she's nothing more than the girl who might have loved him back.

He steps off of the train, and breathes.

red_b_rackham

4 years ago

aina_hhrdanem

4 years ago

downbythebay_4

4 years ago

peeta mellark, you're dying a legend, darling
peeta(/katniss). a legend's only a lonely boy. pg-13.

Peeta can't remember how he envisioned it when he'd first had the idea: to tear his heart open wide, to share his secrets with the world and hope that they - she - would love him back. He wasn't stupid. He didn't think they'd frolic through the woods, hand in hand, as twenty-two tributes fell to pieces around them.

But he hadn't envisioned it like this.

&

When Cato cut him it felt like fire, but a thousand times worse than when he'd burnt himself on hot metal and flames in the bakery. He's not even sure how he reached this riverbank and hid himself in the mud, delirious from the tracker jacker stings, blood draining steadily from his leg.

Yet here he is, in this peaceful place where forest meets river, and there's been no one in sight for hours. Maybe days. He doesn't know anymore. The sky had gone dark, once, and the birds and insects had hushed, but was that night? He never heard the boom of a cannon or saw pictures floating over him. Was it possible that no one had died?

If ever there was a perfect time for a silver parachute, this is it. But it never comes.

The plan isn't working.

&

There would be sponsors swept away by his grand admission of love, Haymitch had agreed. "They've got nothing better to spend their money on than the hopes that two pretty young things'll fuck each other to death."

Peeta felt sick inside, to think of love in that way - bodies on a screen for the pleasure of others, taking and taking and taking - but this was all he could give her.

And it had felt right, when he'd said she came here with me: the crowd had cried out for them in a way that they never had before, not for anyone. They would watch them, and care for them. They would stand by their doomed lovers of District 12 until the very end, when Peeta would lay himself down for the last time and finally rest because it was one or the other, and he would always choose her.

He knew it.

&

Peeta knows he's getting weaker. He's been in the riverbed for years, he's certain of it, and he hasn't eaten. The sun is setting and the air is cooling, but he's so hot he can't move. He's dying. He's dying.

He wishes he could see Katniss one last time, and apologize. For seventy-three years, no one entered the arena in love - and this was why. Because it didn't work. Because all it got you was guilt and panic and a sword to the bone, a death alone, and not a single gift drifting down from the faces in the sky.

He closes his eyes.

Somewhere in the distance, there are footsteps.

morbidmuse

4 years ago

red_b_rackham

4 years ago

thewrittendream

4 years ago

gale/katniss, such a waste of a young heart
He doesn’t watch. He likes to think that this is his own rebellion, that he’s showing them he can’t be contained, that he’s the one with the trappings. But he wonders if that’s true, if he has any power at all, and suddenly he’s angry, ripping out handfuls of grass, choking back a scream. He misses her, but he tells himself this isn’t about her anymore; this is about the Capitol, the Games, the country. Not about her.

He doesn’t watch, but they tell him anyway. Mellark’s in love with Katniss, they say and he knows they’re watching for his reaction, and he’s careful to keep his face blank as he walks away. It’s Prim, in the end, to get him to watch. Clutching his hand, whispering about two victors, and a cave, and he relents, walks with her to the home he knows so well--used to know, he tells himself, used to know; everything but the world beyond the fence seems foreign to him now.

And then he’s watching, and Mellark’s pale and fevered, bleeding and shaking, and Katniss is leaning close and telling him “You don’t have much competition anywhere” and suddenly it’s about her. It’s about her, and how he couldn’t keep her, how nothing he did ever seemed to matter. And he’s up and walking away, Prim grabbing at him, and he’s shaking her off and the door slams behind him.

They’re dead anyway, he tells himself, no way in hell Mellark’s making it through to the end, and she’ll be done when he is. He wonders how that makes him feel, the idea that Katniss might not come home, but he thinks of the whispered reports and tells himself again that it isn’t about her. It’s all for the cameras, he thinks, but he saw it, saw the way Katniss looks at Mellark, the way she never looked at him, like Mellark’s something she’s afraid of losing. He’s dead anyway, he tells himself again. He’s dead, and she’s dead, and it doesn’t matter. It’s not about her.

And it isn’t about her, and he knows that, and a part of him is already racing ahead, thinking of strategies, of bombs, of makeshift shelters. He wonders which is worse, but it’s so close, the revolution he wants, the revolution he’s been built for. They’re dead anyway, he tells himself, and it’s not about her.

stainofmylove

4 years ago

jada_jasmine

4 years ago

finnick/johanna, two can keep a secret if one of them is dead

beethemonster

March 24 2012, 16:30:41 UTC 4 years ago Edited:  March 25 2012, 02:08:38 UTC

this ♥
finnick/katniss, stitches
cato/clove, they're all dead hearts to you

bloodofpyke

March 24 2012, 17:23:21 UTC 4 years ago Edited:  March 24 2012, 17:29:47 UTC

She sees him for the first time when she’s twelve, and hates him on sight, hates him because he’s bigger, because he’s stronger, because he’s a cocky, arrogant ass. She throws her knives at him, and grins when she catches the look on his face, all pointed teeth and crinkled lines.

She doesn’t see him much after that; he’s a boy, and older, and spends his time slashing at the air with a sword, spends his time chasing after girls. Less lethal girls, she notes, and she wonders if maybe Cato isn’t afraid of losing, of being second place.

And then she’s sixteen, and he’s eighteen, and it’s the night before the Reaping. They’re both training, spinning against shadows, the air between them cut up and carved out. And it’s dark, and they’re the only ones left, and he turns on her, breathing heavy, something in his eyes she can’t quite place. “You’re the one with the knives,” he says, and she knows he remembers her, and she wonders how she feels about that.

“And you’re the one with an empty head and a sword for an arm,” she bites back, and he’s laughing, and she thinks this is the first time she’s ever seen him laugh.

It’s later, and they’re both breathing hard, cuts and bruises coloring their skin, and he’s murmuring, “it’s my last year, you know.”

“I know.”

“If I don’t get to go-” and she looks over, and he’s making a fist, veins popping out and eyes angry. “I need this,” he says, “And I can win.”

She says something back, something quiet and hard, and suddenly he’s kissing her, and his hands are the size of her head, and her hair feels like it’s being pulled out, but it feels good, and she’s kissing him back. They roll back on the mats, and her hands are small against his body, but she’s straddling him and there’s a wink of light, and then she’s got her knife against her throat. “I can win,” she corrects, and kisses him one more time.

“Why?” he asks, and his voice is all sharp corners and jagged edges.

And she shrugs, twirling her knife in her hand. “Because I’m better,” she tells him, “because they’re only there to make the show more interesting, because this is who I am.”

“You’re cruel,” he tells her, but so is he, and he’s laughing again, his hands reaching up for her, and she shows him, shows him that she’s better, that she’s there to win.

They’re late to the Reaping the next morning, hurried and untucked, and they stand next to each other on the stage, their district cheering and stomping for them, and she wonders if maybe there will be competition this year after all.

beethemonster

4 years ago

jada_jasmine

4 years ago

red_b_rackham

4 years ago

stainofmylove

March 24 2012, 16:35:14 UTC 4 years ago Edited:  March 24 2012, 16:35:23 UTC

katniss, I opened my mouth to scream and shout, waved my arms and flapped about, but I couldn't scream I couldn't shout--the song was coming from my mouth.
Johanna/Finnick, tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us
i love you for posting a siken prompt. ♥
gale/johanna, so if I see you again, desperate and stoned, keep your prison locked up, and I will leave my gun at home, I don’t want love.
keep your prison locked up. gale/johanna. pg13.

“You have a drug problem,” the doctor tells her.

Johanna’s hair is short and two machines beep at her. The doctor pushes his glasses up his nose and checks something on a clipboard. He’s an old thing, his hair white and feathered, his shoulders depressingly droopy. She crosses and uncrosses her legs under the cheap white sheet, staring at the doctor blankly.

Johanna says, “Doc, I’ve got bigger problems than that.”







The hallways are long and overly decorated, the carpets thick and walls carved out of a deep, rich mahogany. Her fingers trail along the indented panels, the sunken squares, and it’s nearly quiet.

Johanna’s robe hangs off her skinny frame, baggy and loose. It shuffles around when she does, rubbing against her skin. She’s not proud of the things she would do for a cheeseburger. The cheap material of the garment sneaks underneath her foot and she almost trips. It’s impossible to sneak up on anyone like that.

Gale Hawthorne looks at her from the other end of the hall, confused, and scratches at the back of his neck.

“I didn’t think they let you out, yet.”

Johanna rolls up a sleeve and smirks, one side of her mouth curling up, her too long nails scratching against her arm.

“Good behavior,” she drawls, leaning against the wall. Her mouth trips into a smile and she tugs at her hospital gown.

Gale looks at her for a minute, casually, like she’ll break. Johanna ignores it and raps her nails on the wall.

“Since when?” he says, and then bursts into laughter.






It turns out they won’t let her live alone – drug addiction, PTSD, all-around unpleasantness. All of those things can be exacerbated without another warm body around to tease. Or so they say.

Gale says, “Um, I guess I need a roommate?”

Johanna sits, shocked and silent, across from him.

“What?” he says, face open, as he sticks his finger into her dinner and steals a wedge of potato.







Johanna is drunk and halfway to black out.

Their couch fits both of them and Gale’s keeping up with her nicely.

He says, “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, leave this room?” or slurs it actually, the words running into each other.

Johanna’s head lolls towards Gale on the black cushion, the TV flashing something unimportant on the screen. Her fingers wrap around the neck of her beer bottle, sweating cold into her head, and she tilts her head back to finish it off.

“I kind of hate everyone else,” she mutters into the empty bottle before tossing it in the general direction of the garbage can. She misses. Gale’s bottle soars in the air seconds later and lands perfectly in the pail.

Gale laughs at that, his hand dropping onto her thigh. She raises an eyebrow and shifts into his touch.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Hawthorne,” she says, arching her back off the couch lazily.

“You never give me enough credit,” he whispers, thumb tracing her jaw line.







The next morning, Johanna wakes up to Gale’s breath on her neck. He wakes up moments later, and Johanna says, “You have morning breath.”

Gale flips her over and spreads her legs, the sunlight filtering in through the closed blinds, her fingers pulling at his hair and he says, “I don’t hear any more complaints, Jo.”

Twenty minutes and two orgasms later, Johanna lies, sated and sleepy, her arms draped over Gale’s torso.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she offers, yanking his t-shirt over her head and Gale raises an eyebrow.

“And what, exactly, are you capable of cooking?” he asks.

“Well in that case,” she says, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, “you can try and fend for yourself.”








He says, “I kind of like you.”

Johanna’s half-asleep and can only manage, “Yeah, whatever. Me too, I guess.”

freckles929

4 years ago

stainofmylove

4 years ago

gale/johanna, i want bones like iron blood like mercury
omg you're giving me comicbook!au feelings whyyyy

beethemonster

March 24 2012, 16:46:14 UTC 4 years ago Edited:  March 25 2012, 02:09:37 UTC

prim/gale. she's nothing but a little katniss to him.

thediagnosis

March 25 2012, 22:02:45 UTC 4 years ago Edited:  March 25 2012, 22:43:59 UTC

Gale/Katniss "selfless selfishness" (not sure if this is what you were looking for but it is what came to mind!)

Gale takes care of them, like he promised he would. Even though it kills him every time he has to see her face.

Prim is nothing like Katniss. If he didn't know it to be true, he would never in a million years guess that they were sisters. He sees her and instead of empathy he feels nothing but rage and hate. She is the reason that he is hunting alone. The reason he wants to punch holes in his walls and cries himself to sleep silently.

He misses her excruciatingly. He doesn't smile much anymore, and neither does Prim. He knows this. She is an innocent child whose only crime against him was being blessed with a sister stronger than anyone he has ever met. Yet in some twisted sense he blames her for his loneliness. If only her name hadn't of been called. If only Katniss wasn't so damn stubborn. He would've held her as her sister entered the arena. Soothed her after the cannon fired and Prim's sweet face was shown in the sky. They would name their first daughter after her.

That wasn't an option now and the fact that this is what he dreams about sort of makes him sick. Katniss was selfless and he was nothing but selfish. He didn't deserve her and maybe this was his punishment. His reaping. His arena.

As he lay down on the grass in the clearing where they once laid together, he closes his eyes and wishes he could tell her he was sorry for the things she doesn't even know he's done.

red_b_rackham

4 years ago

beethemonster

4 years ago

ellisaco

4 years ago

beethemonster

4 years ago

ellisaco

4 years ago

red_b_rackham

4 years ago

ellisaco

4 years ago

gale/katniss, dart for my sweetheart
gale/katniss, dart for my sweetheart // (um, this might not be what you meant by this, but my muse works in mysterious and primarily uncontrollable ways. spoilers for mockingjay)

He seeks her out across the chasm, her form achingly familiar in the chaos and smoke and he wants to see nothing else when it ends. Because they’re dragging him away, hot breath and shouts all around him, and he calls to her. He wants her to remember their agreement –

Don’t let them take me. Don’t let them take me.


He can see her trying to find a way out of this – there isn’t one – and it’s only been a few short seconds (seconds we don’t have, seconds we never had). He won’t be destroyed by them, he won’t let the Capitol punish her through him. He doesn’t have his capsule anymore and she knows that, has to finish this now.

She raises her bow, he’s fighting his captors so they can’t drag him out of range. Hands shaking, tears streaming down her face, and she seems closer than she really is. He thinks, not of any significant moment in his life, but of a plain sunny day somewhere in the past several years.

It’s ok. I love you. Don’t let them take me.

She shot some squirrels and he snared some rabbits and they made a fire to enjoy one together and she smiled when he teased her and her eyes sparkled and it was just a regular day – (oh one I’ll never have again, not now, not now).

It doesn’t even hurt.

stainofmylove

4 years ago

red_b_rackham

4 years ago

sweet_iolanthe

4 years ago

red_b_rackham

4 years ago

gale/katniss, you're drifting i can hear it in the way that you're breathing