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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Gale/Katniss; I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
pretend, pretend; gale/katniss; r to be safe

It isn't as though they're lovers. They can't be; not in this world, not in District Twelve. If either of them were to admit to feeling something more, they'd get hurt, have everything ripped from them.

It's easier, then, to pretend; to lie in the fields together and act as though it's nothing when it's so much more than.

Gale's hands slide down her sides and her breathing hitches the lightest amount, her eyes fluttering shut. She lets out a sharp breath before kissing him, hard, rolling him so he's pinning her to the ground.

(She's never one to be pinned but she trusts Gale, wants him to know that, even if this is nothing this is nothing.)

After, sticky and sweaty, she kisses his shoulder, lips feather-light, and sits up, running a hand through her hair, getting out any debris, any sign of what's happened.

"Catnip," he breathes out, because he needs some link to their past, needs to know this isn't going to be nothing (it might not be everything to her but it's got to be something). His hand rests on her back and she shifts away from him, sitting up, pulling on her shirt.

"Gale," she says, then, and when she looks at him there's something in her eyes that he can pretend is love, is want, is something other than the need to simply feel.

"You okay?" he asks her, and he's the only one who can ask her those kinds of questions, get an honest answer out of her.

She smiles, then, and it's just as beautiful as before. "Yeah."

He can only hope she isn't lying.

*

He thinks about it, then, when he sees her on screen; he sees her kiss Mellark and hold him close and wonders if she'd have done that for anyone; if it's all for show, all for the Games.

He hopes but he doesn't dare believe it.

He loves her, in the worst sense of the word; he loves her even then, even as she kisses him and promises to stay.

She loved him once, too, he thinks, hopes, and he closes his eyes against the sight.

He can't watch.

Not this.

"Catnip," he says, and the name is sharp on his tongue, almost childish.

She's not that girl anymore, not really. She's Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire.

And maybe it's for the best.

red_b_rackham

5 years ago

rumpledlinen

5 years ago

red_b_rackham

5 years ago

downbythebay_4

5 years ago

rumpledlinen

5 years ago

applepips16

March 24 2012, 05:31:41 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  March 24 2012, 05:32:38 UTC

gale/ madge - beware the bottled thoughts of angry young men
gale/madge, violence and birdsong, pg13

There’s violence in his voice, no matter the theme of the words that spill out. Gale’s. Even his silence is forceful. She never fit in at school, but he sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere. Head cocked confidentially, ranting at Katniss about things he shouldn’t until the girl’s unflappability tenses and snaps.

Madge thinks that maybe she should risk everything ahead of her, that maybe she would, for just one chance to prove that he isn’t alone.

On nights when she can’t sleep—more often than he’d ever believe, his lips would probably curl with disgust at the soft texture of her sheets—she digs a hand under the waistband of her underwear and thinks about the timbre of his voice and the span of his shoulders and those words: “don’t watch, don’t give them the satisfaction, fight.” There’s a video feed at her home, but every day she goes to watch the games at the Hob instead.

When he’s not there, nothing can slow her heartbeat echoing wildly in her ears and pulsing in the vein in her left temple.

When he is there, watching, listening, head ducked instead of smashing the screen down to the ground—when he is there, she buys whatever he has to sell and goes home.

This is the only instance Madge hopes to never see him.

---

Sometimes he hears it spilling out the back door of the mayor’s home. Music. He’s never seen a piano in person, isn’t sure of what it should even look like. But he knows the sound. That, and the sight of Madge’s long, tapered fingers.

Thinks, on more than one occasion, that if given half the chance he’d smash that thing into a million pieces.

On nights when he can’t sleep, when his skin is too hot and covered in an uncomfortable sheen of sweat and his mind won’t stop circling back to what's happening in that stadium and his town and everywhere across Panem, he slips out of the house and almost always seems to find himself back there. Presses his ear to the cool glass of a window, closes his eyes, and waits.

If there’s music, he stays, a sense of purpose taking root deep in his spine.

If it’s silent, he ducks under the district fence and frantically tries to inhale the only air that he imagines is simple and uncomplicated and free until he can barely breathe at all.

Gale always hopes for music.

morbidmuse

5 years ago

applepips16

5 years ago

clouberding

March 24 2012, 06:00:22 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  March 24 2012, 06:00:41 UTC

mags & finnick, if you do everything i tell you there might be a small chance you won't die first
dude. want.
gen, an actual epilogue
mmmmmmmmhmmm gurl

dracaryss

5 years ago

helena_13

5 years ago

kolms

March 24 2012, 06:12:53 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  March 24 2012, 06:14:14 UTC

Johanna/Finnick, thieves AU!
*GASP* YES

spafoom

5 years ago

Deleted comment

Haymitch swirls his glass for a second before he can’t stand being apart from the whiskey that burns his throat deliciously. He slurps the drink messily, promptly forgetting Effie was sitting just across from him going through the schedule for, oh what seems the thousandth time. So really, he doesn’t feel too bad when he sees her horrified face.He didn’t mean to spill, it just, you know. He reaches for the bottle again and almost sighs in relief at the familiar touch before popping the cap off and pouring in the booze again.

Effie’s now going off on a tantrum of his disgraceful behaviour at the reaping at district 12 and he can barely pay attention, because honestly he’s had far too many drinks to keep up with the speed of her speaking. She seems to have calmed down after a rant; he managed to get through half of his glass, and she sits beside him.

They weren’t always this...well, one could call it loathing almost, but it feels more like distant. Haymitch blocks the world, including Effie, out with his booze and she uses her notebook as a wall as her own form of protection. When they started off, they were almost...hopeful and definitely more cooperative. To be fair, that hope hasn’t entirely disappeared, but it’s a rare night that Haymitch would ever admit it to himself. They were a good team. They worked. They pushed each other and prepared their few first kids rather well, they had a good chance. But it started to be too much for either of them. Haymitch would start to feel the bile creep up his throat as their kids became skewered, burned, strangled or destroyed by whatever fancy weapon the Capitol had thrown out for the slaughter for the year. He found alcohol kept his bile down. It made it easier to stomach the showings. It made it easier to just deal. He noticed while his uptake of alcohol was on the increase, Effie was determined to wear the most extravagant colours, clothing, whatever. She became increasingly obsessed with the meticulous details. They were just coping. What else could they do?

“I have a good feeling about our pair this year,” Effie speaks softly.

Haymitch sighs and grabs her hand long enough to give it a small squeeze before letting go and gripping his glass even tighter.

“You say that every year.”

“I know.”

beethemonster

5 years ago

crackedeggie

5 years ago

Deleted comment

crackedeggie

5 years ago

kolms

March 24 2012, 06:13:21 UTC 5 years ago Edited:  March 24 2012, 06:14:04 UTC

Peeta/Johanna, everything i love has gone away
peeta/johanna, "we all fall down", Mockingjay spoilers

"Everyone I love is dead."

Johanna would roll her eyes, but she hasn't the energy for it. "Welcome to the club," she manages, her voice a whisper and less biting than she'd like. She aches, her body wracked with pain and exhaustion, the electricity they used making her feel as if there are tiny bugs crawling beneath her skin, buzzing with their fluttering wings.

Peeta looks at her miserably from his cell. It's across the narrow hallway from hers, appearing wide open but in actuality caging him with the same sort of nearly-invisible force field as in the arena. It's more for his benefit than hers, making him look at her broken body. Johanna would rather be left alone in her misery.

"I loved a mutt."

Johanna lets her eyes slip closed, her temple pressed against the hard, cold floor. She's heard this before. Katniss is a mutt.

Katniss may be a bitch, but she's as human as any of them, and just a stupid fucking girl who didn't even know what she was starting when she started it. She'd have to be human to be that dense, that clueless.

"Johanna?"

She forces her eyes open, sees the concern on Peeta's face turn to relief. This is exhausting too, having to reassure him that she's still alive.

He doesn't understand that the Capitol wouldn't be so kind as to let her die with even this much comfort, the peace of lying alone on the floor of a prison cell that is too cold, too bright.

"Did you mean it when you said there was no one left that you love?"

"Yes." She doesn't remember saying it, can't be bothered to try, but it's the truth either way.

"Have you been in love?"

The sigh makes her ribs ache, and she allows her eyes to close again. "No." This is a lie.

"Do you think you could be?"

There's hope in his voice, like he thinks they might ever see the light of day again, breathe fresh air, get out of this fucking prison. She hates him for being hopeful.

"No."

This is the truth.

jada_jasmine

5 years ago

nicalyse

5 years ago

jada_jasmine

5 years ago

red_b_rackham

5 years ago

nicalyse

5 years ago

Katniss/Peeta, and our world is almost beautiful again
The crash of thunder reminds her of the bombs that fell that day. Destructive things that man designed to annihilate what was good and beautiful in the world. She has to remind herself that they can't hurt her now. She is safe.

Then comes the lightning. It's bright, electric flashes recall images of that second arena. The gold wire unspooling around her legs, keeping her from the one thing that she needed to reach. Needed to save. But they are separated as the dark drowns out all noise, all thought.

The darkness encloses her and all time is lost. Moments are unrestrained and nightmares flourish until daylight breaks through.

Daylight is nothing new to her. She once relished the feel of it on her face, the warmth of it in the air. Breathing in and out, sunshine laced dreams of a life free from the captivity of the Capitol. Free from the whims of a people who had an eternity to live out their days. A people who have never known a want for anything.

She had felt fear, pain, hunger and loneliness. Had survived through many horrors, many unimaginable things but today she could really live.

She would hold on to what was left and try to forget the pain of what was lost. Remembering only the beauty that could be found in the ashes.

gydas

5 years ago

kolms

5 years ago

stinabug87

5 years ago

Deleted comment

WANT. This movie gave me tons of Haymitch/Effie feelings I previously didn't have.

tomlinsons

5 years ago

doogner

5 years ago

doogner

5 years ago

red_b_rackham

5 years ago

katniss/gale, gale as tribute au — the victor's return
Us Against the World- Katniss/Gale, AU, PG

She does not hear the name of the girl tribute called, she only knows it is not Prim’s, and not her own. A giddy sense of relief fills her heart. The odds were in their favor this year.

It is a hard, brutal snap back to reality when Effie Trinket chirps out a name she knows almost as well as her own. Gale Hawthorne. Katniss goes numb.

______

Katniss goes to say goodbye. How could she not? Words are not enough and there are not words to say what Gale has become to her.

“I’ll take care of them.” She says, referring to his family. He nods in response.

“But just until you come back.” She says, as if offering him a reason to come back. To survive.

“I’ll do my best, Catnip.” He says, rubbing his hand over her smooth cheeks, wiping away tears Katniss didn’t even know she was crying. He leans down, and covers her lips with his own.

The doors open, and the Peacekeepers come, and she’s left wandering towards home. He is further away than she can reach.

_______
The odds were in his favor. Gale Hawthorne, tribute from District 12 is the victor of the 74th Hunger Games. District 12 is alight with excitement, as they haven’t had a victor since Haymitch (who with his drinking habits is not someone to be particularly proud of.)

The day of Gale’s homecoming is something to celebrate. The entire district seems to have turned out; the train station decorated in finery, a choir singing, a band playing, and an extravagantly decorated cake waiting to welcome him home.

Everyone is happy today. Today, they have hope.

Katniss is full of excitement as she waits for the train. She helps avert disaster when the large cake starts to fall off of the table it is displayed on- with the help of the baker’s son, Peeta. She smiles at him, remembering a time when he had saved her- by throwing bread into the rain. It was before she had learned to hunt, when her mother had tuned out and food was incredibly scarce.

The moment is broken when the train arrives.

Gale greets her with a kiss.

For Katniss, the nightmare is over. He is alive, and safe, and home. Their lives are not the same as before the games; for Gale no longer needs to hunt, he is now rich. They marry in short order in a ceremony broadcasted all over Panem. She moves with her mother, Prim, Buttercup and the goat into a fancy house. Haymitch is an odd neighbor.

Gale is never the same. He is haunted by dreams, of death and sorrows that he faced in the arena. He is a bird in a cage, trapped by memories from which he will never be free.

red_b_rackham

5 years ago

tilty

5 years ago

Deleted comment

I watched her as she slept cradled in the arms of District 12, the way she always held the youngest in her arms at night--the way I once held her in my arms at night--and I had hope, for my Rue lived another day.

I watched as my agile, nimble girl with the bright eyes and cherubic face plotted with District 12 and then disappeared into the trees. Stay in the trees, I wanted to tell her. Stay in the trees and never come down.

I watched as my Rue leapt nimbly through the trees, just the way she would when she was out in the fields, and my heart beat with pride. And my heart beat with terror. Not that way! Not that way! And she was caught.

I watched as District 12 freed her from the bindings, and the mindless terror that had gripped me loosened just for a moment. A moment too soon, because then he appeared, that golden boy and killed my little girl. My Rue.

I watched as my husband cried and beat his chest and howled his grief, and called for his little girl to come back to him. But she never would.

I watched as our children cried not yet truly understanding that their Rue was never returning; not truly realizing that their Rue would never again sing them to sleep nor teach them how to fly from branch to branch.

We watched through tears as District 12 sang our baby to eternal rest, and buried my baby girl in flowers. And when they cut away from my Rue to some other brutality, to another mother's nightmare, I finally knew in my heart of hearts that I would never ever kiss my baby's hurts better again, because some hurts are too deep and too final for anything else to make it all better again.

freckles929

5 years ago

yueni

5 years ago

tilty

5 years ago

yueni

5 years ago

Cato/Glimmer, The Star-crossed Lovers of Districts 1 & 2
DO WANT

jada_jasmine

5 years ago

wanderinghope

5 years ago

casterlys

5 years ago

Deleted comment

i would have died for her, so now i live for her katniss/peeta, spoilers for all three books.

Sorry, it was too long for a comment, so I posted it in my LJ.
Katniss/Peeta A truth should exist,it should not be used like this. If I love you - is that a fact or a weapon?
Peeta’s hand is in hers, and she wants to scream. Wants to, but doesn’t, keeps smiling for the cameras, fingers interlocking until the blood seems to freeze over in her veins. He leans over and whispers something in her ear, his breath hot against her skin, and the ice seems to melt a little bit, but still she pulls back, pulls away, and suddenly her hand is free and she is breathing again.

Later, she will replay this in her mind, wondering how this looked to the audience, how this looked to Snow. But for now, she is in the present, and the present means dealing with Peeta and the expression on his face, his hand already reaching for hers again. And she thinks of white roses, of the sticky sweet smell of blood, and she submits, trying not to wince as his fingers close around hers.

This is stupid, she tells herself, but she remembers the gleam in Snow’s eyes, the weight of the broken crown on her head, thinks about her mother and Prim and Gale and everyone dead, dead because of her, and she stops thinking anything at all.

***

“I love you,” he says, and he smiles, this boy with the bread, this baker’s son who has always loved her, delighting in the reality that now he can say it, that now it’s common knowledge, that now it’s her hand he’s holding on to.

“I love you, too,” she says back, and if it sounds forced, if it sounds flat, he doesn’t notice, only leans over again and brushes a kiss against her jaw, and it’s gentle and fragile and she’s worried about smashing it.

***

She’s asleep, or as close as she ever gets now, the sheets bunched up in her hands, and she twists under the moonlight, ears straining still, listening for the crunch of footsteps like she’s still in the Games. She has to remind herself she’s done, she’s out of the arena, she’s alive.

She thinks of Peeta, of the cave, of the way he can touch her and it feels like it will be okay. She thinks of a promise she made, a threat flung against her, and the weight of Peeta’s hand in hers. The star-crossed lovers from District 12, she thinks and a part of her wonders if the berries weren’t something to be regretted, if dying really hurt that badly.

“I love you,” she knows she’ll say tomorrow, but she’s done trying to figure out if it’s true, if it’s forced, if it will hurt in the end (and it will, she knows somewhere inside herself, hurt in the end). Her eyes close and she sees everyone dead, dead because of her, and she can feel Peeta’s hand in hers like a ghost, and she wonders if she’s half the actress she needs to be.

hotpiexoxo

5 years ago

casterlys

5 years ago

red_b_rackham

5 years ago

operatingroom

5 years ago

Deleted comment

oh god oh god whaaaat a good prompt

trysts

5 years ago

wicked_g

5 years ago

wicked_g

5 years ago

wicked_g

5 years ago

Deleted comment

wicked_g

5 years ago

red_b_rackham

5 years ago