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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Glimmer/Foxface - she ran down the forest slope, the forest that once was green, was colored black by those killing machines.
perfect omfg. amazing prompt. I'm going to try my best to fill it :}


6 years ago

Hazelle Hawthorne or any mother, "Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son." (Titus Andronicus)
OHHHH MANNN that is my favourite shakespeare monologue. i need this, omfg.
Effie/Haymitch, I finally had my eyes opened to the reality of the world around me. I don't know if I'm grateful of not


March 29 2012, 07:55:24 UTC 6 years ago Edited:  March 29 2012, 20:31:39 UTC

Sometimes he wants to kill her. This woman, in her bright wardrobe of unnecessary clothing and impractical nails. Her heavily accented voice drives him to a rage fairly often, at least once every two days. It scares him how badly he wants to bash her face in. He tries to drink the impulse away, fucks her instead, but it's always in the back of his mind.

But he loves her too. She's got a good nature, motherly to the point of suffocation. She's kind to Katniss and she's respectful to Greasy Sae, manners she would say. Peeta is teaching her to bake, she burns her cakes and her bread is doughy, but she likes to sing while she works in the kitchen (her accent disappears when she sings). She doesn't sing all that well, can't hold a tune for the life of her. Sometimes when he's very drunk he'll sing with her, keeping the tune going and the two of them together actually sound pretty good. Her voice high and clear and his steady and keeping them both in check.

She doesn't wear a wig anymore, she knows how much he hated it. She's changed so much for him, he knows that, he sees that. And he knows he hasn't done anything in return. She's a good person, a beautiful person. He loves her with what is left of his heart and wonders why she stays.

But the Capitol is in her so deep, it's in her pores and in her voice, even the way she walks. He wants to take a knife and cut it out of her. Nothing so beautiful and so pure and so goddamned innocent should have sprung from that wretched place. He lived his life thinking the world was good and evil, Capitol and District. But then Effie Trinket trotted into his life in six inch heels and threw his whole way of thinking straight out the nearest window.

You know I wrote this and then i started thinking that you probably wanted something about how her world was turned upside down...wooops....


6 years ago

Effie, My work is the only ground I've ever had to stand on.

enobaria, teeth sinking into heart


March 25 2012, 04:28:04 UTC 6 years ago Edited:  March 25 2012, 08:03:15 UTC

haymitch/effie, don't judge a book by the size of its wrist
Haymitch/Effie, The shoes are the first to go, then the dress, the wig, and finally, reluctantly the makeup. And for the first time, he sees her (post Mockingjay?)
do want.

oh my god. i love this prompt.

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6 years ago


6 years ago

finnick/annie, little annie cresta is the youngest victor in the history of the games (their positions are reversed)
hi! this is kind of old but i thought it might be appropriate :)

you are the one song left in my symphony

This is how it starts: a name pulled from a ball; murmurs: fourteen is too young to come out of this alive. You are looking forward to proving them wrong.

You stand on the stage and everything is cold and it is not like you don't want this, this is what you want, this is how you are going to make your name and change your world. But the hair on your arms is standing up and you can smell the sea, in every pore of you.

You wonder if the arena will be dry. You hope you will be able to swim at least a little bit; you are at your best when there is saltwater in your blood.

They ask you how you are feeling, why the others should be afraid of you.

You grin: "I don't hesitate.”

The announcer laughs, as though he is proud of you, as though you are his. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says. “Let’s have a hand for Annie Cresta."


This is how it ends: Finnick Odair runs his hand through his hair and smiles out, at the crowd. There is still blood on his face, his beautiful photogenic face; the red of it sticks out against the blue of his eyes.

"Congratulations," Caesar Flickerman says, putting the crown on his head where it blends into the bronze of his hair. "Panem, I give you your sixty-eighth Victor."

There is a girl, backstage. Her hair is falling down her shoulders and her mouth is curving around his name.


In between, there is this: there is a girl, a Victor, Annie Cresta with wide disarming eyes and a knife between her teeth, water lapping at her ankles; there is a boy, Finnick Odair, a career tribute so beautiful time stops.

This is like a love story, a capitol drama, except bloody.

They dress Annie in white, and pull Finnick's name from the ball; they ignore that Annie's world is filtered through like the surface of the ocean from its sandy, rocky bottom, light refracting, distorting, making everything unrecognizable unless you have a frame of reference; they tell her, he is yours and look after him as though she cares, as though there is such a thing as a relevant person anymore.

(It turns out there is. It is him.)


They meet by the sea; she is staring into the water and he is coming up behind her, soft-footed, cautious.

"Hi," he says and she turns

"Hi," she says. "I’m Annie."

He does her the courtesy of allowing this nonexistant unfamiliarity. "Finnick," he says, light catching on the waves of his hair, like it catches on the green-blue clearness of the sea. "Can I sit here?"

"Why did you volunteer?" she asks it too sharply, running a hand through her hair, thinking about the boys and girls that she has killed, about the way the water ran red with their blood.

He does not sit but shifts from foot to foot, back and forth. "This is the only thing I’m good at." She can see his terror in his calmness, in the steady set of his shoulders and the quirk of his mouth.

She closes her eyes. "Yes. You can sit here."



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6 years ago

the victors, gen, the mentors' book club
i, uh, read this prompt wrong :/

here, have the victors' book club?


6 years ago

Katniss/Peeta || keep the nightmares out, give me mouth to mouth
Johanna/Finnick, can we meet again, meet and meet and meet and meet again?
johanna mason, her victory tour
Katniss/Cinna, My mind was lost as he kissed my stomach. Was this against the rules? Did I care? No
omg i want this so badly lol


6 years ago


6 years ago


6 years ago

Peeta/Gale, He doesn't look for his family or friends as he gets off the train. His eyes only search for the boy he left behind.
Yes, please
Annie/Finnick falling in love
Annie/Finnick, the secret langauge of District 4, G/PG, general spoilers

She becomes someone else in the arena, something not entirely human. But not in the way that he’s seen before, the children who turn feral, bloodthirsty, and, yes, even mad. Annie is so much more than that. She becomes ethereal. Not even the Gamemakers’ cameras can pin her down. Occasionally, they happen upon her by chance; he would recognize the shock of dark auburn hair against the green of the forest. It feels important, like the clandestine meeting of two lovers, that he sees her when no one else can.

More often than the cameras find her, when she gets hungry, she steps out into the open and looks up at the sky as if to say “I’m here; feed me.” And the cash would come rolling in. The mystery was even better than sex for netting sponsors. Everyone wanted to know what would happen next: would she break before the other tributes caught up to her, or would her madness escalate to deadly rage?

The Gamemakers leave her alone. Even though she’s not bloody, she’s interesting. She talks to herself; even when they can’t see her, they can hear her. She laughs and tells stories and sings songs from District 4. He catches children echoing the verses when he goes out to meet with sponsors. He finds her clever, and funny. It’s not hard to convince the sponsors of the same.

Eventually the careers stopped looking for her and return to their stronghold near the Cornucopia; they expect her to starve. It doesn’t happen. He sends her bread and dried fruit, and loses track of how many marriage proposals he has to drop into the arena. The old, Capitol men can’t help but fall in love with her, and neither can he.

So when she hums the District 4 wedding song (and her lips must be inches from the camera concealed in a pile of rocks, though as much as they adjust the angle on the shot, they just can’t find her,) he somehow knows it’s meant for him.

In the morning he sends her fish wrapped in linen and tied with string. Though the fish dried and not fresh, it’s as close as he can come to the traditional betrothal gifts of their District. Later the Capitols screens show her skipping through the trees, nibbling on a piece of shad. From that moment on, he considers himself a married man


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