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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Gale/Johanna "I love you like certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul."
Guh, this prompt does me in. I want to read and/or write this so bad.


6 years ago

any pairing. i'm seriously contemplating chewing off my tongue, to prevent from screaming out your name in these endless nights to come.

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6 years ago

Katniss/Gale, but you can never love people as much as you can miss them.

gale/katniss; so tell me now where was my fault / in loving you with my whole heart

(sorry if it wasn't exactly what you wanted, i'm new at this :3)

Fourteen and twelve and things are new. Her eyes are skeptical and calculating as you walk her through how to set a simple twitch-up snare. When she does it correctly for the first time her eyes soften and light up, and you laugh.

She shoots you a glare that matches death itself. It's worth it.

Fifteen and thirteen and she's warming up. You're getting better at shooting and she's getting better at teaching.

"Here, loosen up your shoulder," she says, fingers landing lightly on your arm. You hit your mark the next time the arrow flies, and she smiles. It's the first time you've seen her smile, and you hope it won't be the last.

You spend the next hour trying to make her smile again. When you finally do, you feel like you can do anything.

Sixteen and fourteen and this is easy. You meet every morning in the woods before school, bring down a few birds and maybe a squirrel or two, if you're lucky. Then you pack up and get breakfast at the Hob before leaving for the schoolhouse.

One morning she's sitting on Greasy Sae's counter with a bowl of soup while you lean next to her on your elbows. Eventually Darius comes up to you both, touches Katniss' hair and smiles suggestively.

She swats his hand away and rolls her eyes. You don't realize you're clenching your fists until Greasy Sae touches your arm and sighs.

Seventeen and fifteen and you're a goner. You find yourself fixating on the way her hair curls at her temples, worrying about her more than yourself each reaping, every year the number of slips with the name Katniss Everdeen neatly printed on them growing.

That winter she gets sick with the flu and you have to go hunting by yourself while she recovers. You find yourself aching for her company, for the sound of her laugh, for her steely gray gaze.

You hug her tight and for a long time when she returns to the woods a week later. When she asks, "Why so enthusiastic?" you reply, "I just missed you," so sincerely it hurts.


6 years ago


6 years ago


6 years ago

gale the hills are alive with the sounds of their guns, you're getting used to them
katniss and the tributes they were never given the chance to be friends but she does it for them as much as anyone else


March 25 2012, 21:08:40 UTC 6 years ago Edited:  March 25 2012, 21:09:04 UTC

the careers, you don't talk, you don't say nothing, okay.
She’s thirteen and naked and rough hands are pulling her hair, rough on purpose and over and over until her scalp is numb and tears prick her eyes. Her eyes are closed and raw from the scratchy eye makeup that she’s never worn before, and in the darkness of her head she hears what they said to her ten minutes ago, acidic and angry, “Strip. Now.”


This time, they put her in a dress that’s two sizes too small with a fabric that itches and digs in to her sides, and they shove her roughly into heels and every time she stumbles she accumulates another twenty seconds with her back against the wall. Her quads are on fire after a full six minutes in the invisible chair against the bricks. Later, she examines the red, raw blister corseting her stomach.


They coo over her this time, tell her she is gorgeous, a treasure, they ask questions but none that they want answers for. She stares at the wall.


You don’t dress yourself, and you don’t undress yourself. You let them. You do not ask questions. You do not talk. Even if it seems like they want you to, they don’t. You do not show emotion and you do not interact. You stand there like a corpse and follow direct orders like look up and mouth open and eyes down. You are their living doll.

These are the rules.


At the Games, the dress her stylist gives her is silver and shiny and stupid. She hates dresses. She hates this part. She hates their hands on her body and their brushes against her skin.

Dolls don’t speak.


6 years ago


6 years ago


6 years ago

johanna/finnick, look away as i start to fall, spoilers for mockingjay

When he makes his way to her bunker, she lets him in at the very first knock. He half-expects her to bare it all, what with Katniss roaming around somewhere and Johanna’s fondness for lounging around in the nude, but she’s wearing a tank and shorts instead. (He checks for the fresh marks of morphling, is relieved to find fewer than he had feared.)

She thinks that something about this entire scene is off, that his time would be better spent reciting bad poetry to his radiant wife with eyes like the sea, but humors him anyway. (That isn’t to say she won’t be difficult.) “My, my, Mr. Odair, the son of the sea god gracing District 13’s very own hydrophobic soldier with his presence. And to what do I owe the pleasure? ”

He leans against her door frame, tall and huge and indestructible. “Well, Ms. Mason, as much as I trust you to hold down the fort, I thought I’d kindly warn you that Beetee said he’d let the good doctor know straight away if you even so much as look as though you’re trying to steal more drugs.”

Johanna rolls her eyes, waves him off with a salute that would impress even Boggs . “Aye, aye, captain. I promise I’ll be on my very best behavior. Victor’s honor and all.” And then, after a long slow minute, she takes a sniff of her little bouquet of pine. “Good luck with Annie. With everything. Even your super fancy new clique you're calling a 'squad'. Whatever. I mean it.”

It’s when she turns away from him under the pretense of sweeping up fallen needles that he takes a good look at the familiar band around her wrist. The rope is tied off with a loose knot (not meant to be secure, not meant to be lasting), and so he smiles, the way he always did for the cameras, when he held on to something he had no choice but to hide. "When have I ever needed luck? Besides, it seems like you might need it just a bit more. Apparently the only rations they have left are those beans you’re so very fond of."

She follows with nothing less than a raucous fit of snorts, half from exhaustion and more so from worry. She catches her breath and stands on her tiptoes, kissing him softly on the cheek. It’s less sloppy than she thought she could manage, but it’s just enough.

He understands what her silence is trying to say: "This is it -- I'm letting you go now, so don't you dare mess up."


Had he known that she would have been better for it, this is what he would have said: “There aren’t many people left in this world that I care so much about, but you, Johanna, are one of them.”

Had she thought he would have felt stronger for it, this is how she would have replied: “Stop being so sentimental, Finnick. There’s no one else watching and we both know you’ll be coming home soon.”

(They never did say those three words, not to each other at least.)
Cinna + Katniss, i was the spark, you the flame
The first time Cinna saw her, he was sitting with Portia in the quarters reserved for the stylists. They were new, the both of them, and had been assigned 12, the district least likely to win. So there they sat, surrounded by pictures of old district 12 tributes in various designs of coal mining-related garb, patterns and fabrics strewn around them as they discussed potential costume themes for the grand opening, one eye on the big screen as the Reapings from the districts were broadcast.

He was absorbed with a dark velvet fabric when Portia nudged him, and he looked up as the terminally perky Effie Trinket in her fashion-forward suit tottered towards the mic and read off a name from the little slip of paper. "Primrose Everdeen." He watched the camera zoom in on the stunned, terrified face of a 12 year old girl, and for a split second, his heart stopped. Oh god.

Objectively, he could see the luminous beauty of the girl, too young and fragile to survive the arena. He watched as she blindly stumbled forward with coltish grace, and he absently wondered if dressed in pale pink innocence and fairy silver for the inevitable interview with Flickerman, whether he could help her garner more sponsors. And all the while, his heart was breaking in his breast for the girl-child, because he knew in the end, he was merely dressing her up so she could die.

So absorbed in the tragedy on the screen, he almost missed the scuffle that started in the corner of the screen. "I volunteer-- I volunteer as tribute." The girl that came forward was taller, darker, but he could still see the family resemblance. Her walk was lithe, her limbs muscled, defiance and fear written on her face. In that instant, Cinna could see a spark of hope in the tragedy.

He watches as she walks to the stage, watches the silent tribute given her by her district, and suddenly he doesn't need to pore over tired old costumes or cover his face fighting for inspiration. His inspiration stands proudly before him in the burning spirit that is her core. And Cinna thinks to himself, This is a tribute I can design clothes for proudly. This is a tribute who can walk into the arena and change the world. All I have to do is show the world the girl of fire.


6 years ago


6 years ago

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Katniss/Gale or Peeta/Gale, The Capital makes the final kill and frames the winner, who then has to face District 12's judgement alone.

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6 years ago

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perfect perfect perfect wow
haymitch/effie i hate to say i'm sorry, so i just go away

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*gasp* I just realized I NEED THIS TO BE WRITTEN.


6 years ago

haymitch/katniss, to give life you must take life, and as our grief falls flat and hollow
(peeta dies au)

They sit and they are silent. There is nothing to say.

He’s happy – ecstatic – that he has a next door neighbour at last, and she gets to see her sister again and that’s just brilliant. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that this is only the beginning, that starting, oh, right about now, Snow will slowly destroy her, and that when she looks at him she’s really looking at herself.

With nothing to anchor it, time slips away from them. ‘You look like you need a drink, sweetheart.’ He grunts after an hour, maybe two.

She makes a small noise of ascent, the beginning of a laugh, perhaps, and he wonders if perhaps she’s not as like him as he thought, dismisses it. She’ll end up just like him, he can tell you that for free, she’ll end up just like every other soul to walk this Earth, in a wooden box six feet below ground. He’s just delayed the inevitable.

It’s only then he realises how tightly she’s holding his hand.


March 25 2012, 21:37:31 UTC 6 years ago Edited:  March 25 2012, 21:37:53 UTC

katniss, she bet her life on beating down the urges to fill up any chapter not titled integrity