there are many names in history.

Literary Lads We Love: Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games)

2013-10-20T16:28:38Z

(written for the Literary Lads meme over at lisal825's journal. go check it out!)

This is going to sound strange, but I think one of my favorite parts of this character is that initially, it was hard for me to really get into his psyche and figure out who he was and what he wanted. I related almost immediately to many of the other male characters (i.e. Gale, Peeta, Haymitch, etc.) but took a little longer with Finnick, just because there are so many layers you have to peel away at before you can see what really makes him who he is.

Let's talk about what it is exactly that makes Finnick Odair such an amazing and compelling character.

(warning: spoilers for the entire series)

1. He's incredibly strong, both mentally and physically.

+ First off, let's just take a look at how shitty this guy's life is:

He grew up in a Career district, which meant that his whole life was dedicated to training for a future Games. He was literally raised since early childhood to slaughter. Honestly, just the idea of a young child being not only expected, but encouraged, to kill other innocent children for riches and personal ~glory is absolutely horrific.

Two years after winning the Games, he was prostituted out to the citizens of the Capitol, and if he dared to refuse a client, his loved ones would pay the price. He was fucking sixteen,and this was just another sick, twisted way for President Snow/the Capitol government to keep the Victors in their places so that they wouldn't rebel.

He was in love. He was in love with Annie Cresta, who Katniss describes as "a poor, mad girl from back home," but that's not the point. The point is, he was in love and he was forced to watch as the love of his life lost her mind in her own Games. He's forced to have sex with other men and women when the only person he wants to share his body with is Annie.

Not only does he have to be the Capitol's ~favorite escort, he has to pretend to fucking love it. How shitty and completely humiliating is that? Having your body sold and used like an object, and then having to smile and wink and flirt with everyone who's used you/planning on using you. It's sickening.

His mentor - one of the few people Finnick really loved - gave up her life in front of his own eyes to protect Katniss and Peeta, two strangers who he didn't have to give a single fuck about, but did anyway for the sake of the rebellion.

Ultimately, he dies a pointless death, his body in bits and pieces. Even though the revolution was won, he'll never be able to live out the rest of his life with his wife, and he'll never know that he fathered a son, who was born shortly after the rebellion.

+ He's incredibly steady and focused (I'm gonna talk about how this relates to the core of his personality a bit more in a later point, as well as how this same quality of his is cruelly tested and lost when Annie is captured), especially considering everything he's been through. Despite all the ongoing troubles and trauma in his life, he's able to pull himself together to plan, organize, and carry out the rebellion. Even in the arena of the 75th Games, he has a cool focus that only breaks when he believes that Annie is in danger.

In contrast to Katniss's emotional battles between "right" and "wrong", Peeta's own predominantly pacifistic views, Gale's anger towards his oppressors, Johanna's snarky, vicious outspokenness, etc, he puts aside his own thoughts and feelings and focuses on getting shit done. (This also goes to show how much gold THG has to offer in terms of character diversity.)

+ He manages to retain a sense of humor in even the most dire of times.

Finnick Odair in his underwear. 'nuff said.

2. ...but he breaks too.

Suzanne Collins is just so damn good at getting people right. Unlike many other young adult books/authors, she never shies away from fully fleshing out her characters and taking them to their breaking points. She never tries to paint the protagonists as these totally selfless beings who never experience any trauma and are just happy making sacrifices 'for the greater good'. She paints them as raw and disturbed and selfish, but at the same time as selfless, strong, and capable of more than they thought possible.

When Annie Cresta was captured by the Capitol, after years and years of endurance, Finnick Odair broke.

He collapsed into an emotionally stricken state of instability. He loses all rational thought, as well as his ability to set aside immediate emotional reactions, and just breaks, psychologically and emotionally, and it was both heart-wrenching and riveting to see the mental deterioration of an otherwise incredibly capable man play out.

It's here that Finnick Odair is truly stripped down. Not in the beds of his Capitol lovers, not in the tribute parades, but here, in the face of Annie suffering, in his helplessness and inability protect the woman he loves (I'm going to elaborate a bit more on that in the next point).

It's here that we see his weaknesses, his fragility, the crumbling psyche behind the seemingly suave and confident Victor. He is broken beyond his usually excellent ability to mask his insecurities and greatest fears. While there are other characters in the series that function relatively well in grief (Johanna, Peeta, Delly, etc), Finnick Odair is not one of them. And honestly, it's this painfully raw imperfection of him that makes him so vulnerable and real as a character.

(I'm guessing this was probably a side of him that only Annie - and perhaps Mags - saw, especially after his various 'meetings' with clients, except like, magnified by x1000)

"It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart." - Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins.

3. He's a protector.

+ Finnick Odair is, very fundamentally, a protector. A large majority of what he does is to protect other people. He endured sexual exploitation at the hands of the Capitol to protect Annie (and others he may have cared about back home in Four). He risked his own life and saw his mentor, Mags, die to protect Peeta and Katniss in the Quarter Quell. In the final pages of Mockingjay, he died an agonizing (and ultimately useless) death to protect his squad. In the 75th Games, he finds Johanna and makes sure she doesn't get left behind, because Finnick Odair is fiercely loyal and he does not leave people behind.

He is constantly putting others' needs before his own. Other characters, like Johanna for example, risked losing their loved ones' lives because they held their ground and refused to succumb to what the Capitol wanted, but Finnick was willing to make sacrifices for the sake of those he cared about.

[This isn't "better" or "worse" than the way other characters chose to act, though. No fucking way. On the contrary, it's absolutely fascinating to see the way Suzanne Collins has all these different characters react so differently to the same situations. Her characters are far from being cardboard cutouts, and throughout the trilogy, it's unclear whether or not certain actions and reactions are fundamentally good or bad, right or wrong.]

+ Linking the discussion back to the second point about him being a protector, he psychologically broke in Mockingjay because for the first time, he didn't have a CHOICE in protecting his loved ones. Initially, he chose to have his body sold for her. He chose to risk his life for Katniss and Peeta. In the end, he chose to give himself up to the mutts. He's always choosing to protect people, but here, he was left completely without choice and without any way to protect Annie...
.
...and it fucking broke him.

4. ...but he needs someone too.

A trope that often bothers me in fiction and fandom in general is the whole notion of one person saving another. People do not exist simply to save another person. People do not exist to be heroically saved by another. There's often this assumption in fandom that Finnick 'saved' Annie, that he's her protector, her rock.

Which he is! No doubt about that. But too often, people seem to forget that she's his rock too.

It was Annie who comforted him, stayed by his side, and kept on loving him despite everything that he had to do in the Capitol. It was Annie who, in the face of the man she loved being sexually (ab)used at the hands of the Capitol, stayed strong and kept Finnick steady and sane.

Finnick needed someone too, and the great thing about this character (and pretty much all the others in the series) is that he doesn't exist just to save or be saved. Rather, he is a complex character with complex, multifaceted needs, and he wants to give his love and support as much as he wants to be loved and supported.

~~Also, I'm a sucker for the whole save each other thing.~~

5. He thinks differently - he works from the inside out.

This was an especially intriguing facet to his character. He isn't outright rebellious like Johanna. He doesn't externally express his anger and disdain for the Capitol like Gale does. He isn't fundamentally impulsive like Katniss.

His biggest weapon was his ability to set aside immediate sentiments he felt against the Capitol and act in a way that would benefit both him and the revolution at a later point. Obviously, a lot of this 'setting aside' was done as a necessity to protect his loved ones, but even so, he has this... patience - a cool, calm nature - that many of the other characters lack. Over the years, he subtly infiltrated the secrets of the Capitol's most elite, and used them as a bullet to attack and garner support for the revolution at just the right time.

He works from the inside out. He's not rash and he doesn't straight-up engage in rebellious behavior. Instead, he maintains this relative focus and patience, and uses it to buy himself time to plan something big, something he believes can bring down the Capitol for good.

+ On a related tangent, the way his character often works defies traditional gender stereotypes in literature. It's usually a female character who uses her sexuality to pry information out of people. But here, it's Finnick - a handsome, masculine, physically strong male character - who uses his looks and his sexual charm to delve into the secrets of the most influential figures in Capitol society.

+ At the same time, let's not forget that Finnick Odair could absolutely be ruthless. He didn't hesitate to kill in the arena - not in his first Games, and not in his second.

Basically, his entire strategy of attack and offense is just so different and unique from many of the other characters, and it's fascinating to see how it plays out for him throughout his arc.

[On a side note: I think one of the few other characters that can really match Finnick's ability to "work-from-the-inside-out" is probably Haymitch, who, during and after the 74th Games, really starts to focus on taking action and making things happen by using his own Haymitchy charms (hell yeah diplomatic!Haymitch. still one of my only favorite scenes in the movie, even though it was kinda cheesy), but at the same time he is rarely ever outwardly and emotionally expressive about it.]

Finnick Odair wants to get shit done, but he isn't impulsive and he wants to do things in a way that won't hurt the people he loves. He's passionate, he's loyal, and he's brave, but he's also cautious, smart, and doesn't hesitate to make sacrifices for the things and the people he believes in.

~~6. He's also really, really hawt.~~
Considering his character history, this is probably not very appropriate to mention, especially not at the end of a meta post that explores his struggles with sexual exploitation. Nevertheless, I would like to respectfully add that Finnick Odair is one sexy ass mofo.

Ficathons!

2013-07-26T20:31:58Z

*click on banners to go to ficathon*

War Stories Ficathon (multi-fandom): "Basically whatever you want, as long as there's a core component of a war story therein. Can be pre-, post-, or intra-war as long as it is, at its core, about the war."

The Grammar of Cinema (movie ficathon): "This is a ficathon where the prompts are all based on movies! That means each prompt must be for a fandom that comes from a film or film series, i.e., The Avengers, Pitch Perfect, etc. While Marvel and DC Comics make for awesome prompts, you're encouraged to go for the more obscure films too!"

The Odds Are Never In Our Favor (THG ficathon): ROUND TWO! Go prompt some Johanna guysss!

Another Multi-fandom Ficathon!

2013-05-16T14:18:15Z

HERE!

Multi-fandom Women Comment Ficathon!

2013-05-09T06:51:59Z

HERE! Go forth and prompt! <3

+ Women are awesome, that should be celebrated.

A THG Ficathon!

2013-04-18T18:39:47Z

Ficathon HERE!

On the heels of that INCREDIBLE Catching Fire trailer, I thought it would be appropriate to write lots and lots of fic to celebrate. This isn't Catching Fire specific, so any characters from ANY of the books are welcome.

Multi-fandom ficathon!

2013-03-09T09:06:56Z

Click HERE!

This is free-for-all kind of ficathon, which means everything goes. Any show, any movie, and book, mythology, original, crossovers, new fandoms, dead fandoms, anything.

Go prompt! <3

Multi-fandom RPF Comment Ficathon

2012-08-12T18:39:00Z

We're on a ship - pun intended.HERE

fic: Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the most broken of us all? (THG)

2012-06-12T12:24:12Z

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the most broken of us all?: A THG fic

Fandom: The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins

Pairings: Gale/Johanna, past!Gale/Katniss, past!Finnick/Johanna

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1584 words

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games

Notes: Written for the Girl on Fire ficathon. Mockingjay spoilers. Prompt by nicalyse (THG - Gale/Johanna: we're not that different after all.

You must be so proud of her,” Caesar Flickerman says on the television screen (his hair and complexion are a myriad of reds and blues this year).

Finnick Odair turns to Annie Cresta, beaming and flashing his irresistible smile at the audience. “Of course I am. She was so brave.”

Flickerman says, “Of course she is. So, so brave.” And the audience claps politely, and nothing more is said because Annie Cresta the Victor has gone mad and all anyone feels is pity.

That’s what everyone sees in Finnick’s eyes as he looks at Annie: a desperate mixture of pride and pity (everything a mentor should feel).

But Johanna Mason knows him too well. He knows the look on his face, and she can see it in his eyes.

She sees love.

And fuck, does it kill her.

Katniss Everdeen’s lips are on Peeta Mellark’s again and the entirety of the Capitol is swooning.

Gale Hawthorne knows Katniss. They were best friends, hunting partners, root and stem, bow and arrow. He knows that before now, before today, she never felt anything for him but a sense of District partnership, a sense of obligation.

But this time, it’s different. He knows her too well. He knows the look on her face, and he can see it in her eyes.

He sees love.

And fuck, does it kill him.

Crack!

The whip strikes his back again, anguish shooting through his shackled body. Crimson rivers of blood snake down his naked olive skin, and he is humiliated –but he doesn’t scream. He can hear the animalistic noises escape his lips, his face twisted in agony, but he doesn’t scream.

Again and again, they whip him, the crack echoing throughout the square, but he doesn’t scream.

He won’t let them have that.

She is soaked yet again, an agonizing wave of electricity shot through her shackled and nearly-naked body. The pain that rips her apart is like no other, and she is humiliated –but she doesn’t scream. She is wet, cold and hairless, her veins begging for death, but she doesn’t scream.

Again and again, they send the shocks running through her body, the Capitol man’s yells echoing throughout the chamber, but she doesn’t scream.

She won’t let them have that.

Rory won’t speak to him. His bombs killed Prim, he and Katniss are no longer two halves of a whole being, and Rory has run away. The rest of his family moves back to 12.

Hazelle speaks to him, but not really. Not like before. She tries. She calls him sometimes, but Gale knows it’s because she feels that she has to. Because he’s her son, and that’s it.

He’s changed too much – they all have – and war just breaks things (not like a child dropping a ceramic mug, no – more like bits of a mountain breaking off over the years. It’s not anyone’s fault. It happens, and it’s inevitable, and no one ever sees it coming).

After sometime, he just doesn’t pick up the phone.

Her family won’t speak to her. Finnick won’t speak to her.

(That’s probably ‘cause they’re all dead.)

She doesn’t take cold showers and all the stupid head doctors are worried about her. They call and they call and they call, the strident shrieks of the phone filling her dead house in the Victor’s Village. All she wants to do is run outside and chop trees in the forests of Seven, but that’s before she realizes that she sees each and every one of her victims in the reflective blade of her axe.

So she answers the calls, just so she can yell at them and shut them up. Somehow - somehow - the bastards just don’t get the fucking message.

After sometime, she just doesn’t pick up the phone.

He takes a job in 2.

He knows better than anyone else than once a hunter has snared his prey, no one but the hunter is left to clean up the blood left behind.

Day after day, hour after hour, he maps reconstruction plans of the Nut and surrounding electricity lines and roads and neighborhoods.

Every morning, some task or the other awaits him, and he loses himself in it.

And every night, some girl or the other awaits him, naked and willing, and he loses himself in her.

(He tries not to think of her, but it’s always the Girl on Fire who explodes beneath his muscled body, and never anyone else.)

Weeks later, he is watching something stupid on TV and there’s a thunderous knock on his door. It bursts open before he even gets off his rugged couch and in steps Johanna Mason.

“Ugh, took forever to find this place,” she says, loudly dropping her bags on the floor. “Hope you don’t mind if I stay here.”

And Gale is thinking nothing but what the fuck? s Johanna Mason stomps through his tiny little apartment and throws herself on his pathetic excuse for a couch.

They fight about this a few minutes later, about her staying at his place. But she knows better than he does just how lonely he is.

To his surprise (or maybe not), he is relieved when Johanna unpacks her things and tosses her clothes into his closet.

The air smells like her, he notices. And he thinks he likes it.

She takes a job in 2.

She knows better than anyone else than when a lumberjack chops down a tree, he has to plant another one it its place.

Day after day, hour after hour, she works with floor plans and wood samples and earthquake-proof building foundations.

Every morning, some task or the other awaits her and she loses herself in it.

And every night, some guy or the other awaits her in the corner of the bar, and she loses herself with him.

(She tries not to think of him, but it’s always the District 4 ocean she feels as the wetness spreads all over her thighs.)

She and Gale fight, weeks later. They don’t know how it started but it’s about Finnick, and it’s about Prim (and therefore Katniss).

“This s why no one sticks around for you!” he yells, pained and angry. “Everyone fucking leaves you, and they’ll keep on leaving you, just like Finnick –”

Her eyes flash at that, and it’s like she’s back in the arena for the very first time.

“And no one’s lef you? No one’s left you because you blew up their fucking sister?!”

It’s the first time they’ve mentioned these people to each other, and the first time, it’s always a bit too much to handle.

He storms out of the apartment, incensed, leaving her exhausted and burnt out. She doesn’t know if she regrets what she’s said. Johanna Mason has improved a little since the war, but not by much.

To her surprise (or maybe not), she is relieved when he returns home, at three-thirty in the morning.

The air smells like him, she notices, and she thinks she likes it

Gale Hawthorne sleeps with lots of girls. It’s fast and hard and sweaty and all for the purpose of forgetting. It does the job, for a few seconds, before the fire comes back to haunt him.

(It’s funny. He fell in love with the Girl on Fire, and he sent her sister up in flames.)

Johanna Mason sleeps with a lot of guys (and girls). It’s fast and hard and sweaty and she too, simply wants to forget. It works, for a few seconds, before the water comes back to haunt her.

(It’s funny. She fell in love with the Boy from the Ocean, and it is the water that soaks her again and again in her nightmares.)

It’s a hot summer night when he first kisses her. They’re in the balcony and the air is laced with the scents of cheap beer and poorly cooked rabbit.

And now they’re in his bed and everything smells like sweat and pine trees and oranges.

It smells like them, and they think they like it.

Months later, Johanna comes home from the doctor’s, the nausea threatening to consume her.

She tells him.

He’s speechless.

They don’t talk that night. And they don’t fuck either.

But in the morning, he finds her in the balcony, her nails digging into her palms in frustration, drawing blood. He gathers her in his arms and kisses her and tells her he’s not going anywhere. He is not leaving her and he is not leaving his child.

“Fuck this, Hawthorne. We’re too different for this to work out,” she half-heartedly snaps back, vicious tone of voice not quite hiding all the vulnerability that lies in it

(She knows she’s lying, and he knows it too.)

“We’re not really that different after all, Jo,” is all he says. He brings a washcloth, damp with water, and cleans up the crimson on her palm she drew herself.

(Yes, it’s water, and it’s cold, but she does not run this time.)

THE END

fic: Dead or alive, we are all ghosts in the end (THG)

2012-06-12T12:18:31Z

Dead or alive, we are all ghosts in the end: A THG fic

Fandom: The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins

Pairings: Finnick/Johanna (+ Gale)

Rating T

Wordcount: 1322 words

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

Notes: Written for the Girl on Fire ficathon. Prompt: The Hunger Games - Finnick/Johanna: like the ghost you don't believe in .

Summary: After Annie's unexpected death, Johanna takes Finnick's son in as her own. Finnick/Johanna, Gale/Johanna.

The Careers ripped apart the male District 4 tribute in the 72nd Hunger Games. They tore his limbs right out of his sockets, tongue right out of his throat, eyelids right off his face. It was a slow death, and he screamed, and people in the Capitol swore out loud (But they’re only betting on money, not on their lives.).

The whole thing was so fucking brutal even Johanna Mason had to turn away. Most of the mentors turned away. But not Finnick Odair. He stood there, stoic in front of the plasma screens, watching his tribute being lacerated to bloody bits and pieces.

Finally –finally – the poor boy’s heart stopped and the cannon boomed and everyone breathed again.

And that’s when Finnick spoke, his eyes still not moving away from the screen as the hovercraft arrived to pick up the grisly fragments, his words directed at Johanna, “You never want to die like that, slowly, your body in fucking pieces. Never.”

(It’s funny. That’s exactly how Finnick Odair died.

Johanna stands in front of his grave in District 4, years after that particular incident. Annie Cresta is there too, doodling god-knows-what into the soft golden sand with a twig, singing some sort of funeral song.

“Angels, pretty angels, floating in the sky–”

Jo can still feel his last kiss on her lips: it burned of saltwater and desperation and unspoken goodbyes and fuck-knows-what-else.

“Angels, pretty angels, they’ll take care of you–”

Baby Finnie Odair tumbles around in the sand, giggling and blissfully ignorant as his mothers sings on.

“Angels, pretty angels, if only they could take me to you–”

Johanna absent-mindedly watches the baby play with a shell. (He is a carbon-copy of Finnick and also a reason she doesn’t come to Four often.)

All of a sudden, Annie’s eyes go wide. “Oh my goodness!” she cries out. “Finnick!”

Johanna turns abruptly to see Annie pointing into the horizon. “Finnick!” she screams again. "Oh god, oh god -"

For a moment, Johanna’s mind stops working and she looks to the horizon too, the setting sun bleeding scarlet over the glittering expanse of sapphire saltwater.

There is no Finnick. And Johanna is jerked cruelly back to earth.

She sighs. “For fuck’s sake Cresta, it’s not him.”

Annie starts sobbing and covering her ears with her palms. Finnie takes one look at his mother and starts bawling too, his fat, baby tears rolling down his fat, baby cheeks

Later that evening, they’re sitting on the front porch of Annie’s cottage, looking out at the moonlit sea, the waves almost pitch-black.

At times they crash against each other angrily, and at others they are gently sweeping, bestowing wet, briny kisses on each other. Johanna studies their unpredictably temperamental promenade absent-mindedly. (They are so much like her and Finnick, it scares her.)

“I swear I saw him,” Annie says suddenly. “I saw him, Johanna. Maybe...maybe, people come back.”

Johanna looks at the mad girl, and sees that her sea-green eyes are vacant and not here. She doesn’t know how to answer her, so she just snorts and says, “Ghosts aren’t real, Annie.”

“Maybe...it wasn’t a ghost. Maybe it was…just him. He was calling me, Johanna. I’m not making any of this up.&rdquo

(Of course she isn’t. That’s the worst part.

Two nights later, Johanna and Annie setting the table for dinner –fresh fish wrapped in seaweed with a side of oyster sauce and crab cakes.

“How ‘bout some berries for dessert?” Annie suggests. It’s been a good day today, for her. “There are some bushes out front. We can mix them with cream or yogurt.”

“Sure,” Johanna says, trying to (rather unsuccessfully) strap Finnie into his high chair. “Be back soon.”

Annie Cresta walks down to the shore, and no one really knows exactly what happened to her after that. She was fine all day, but thes things. They jus happen.

The point is, she never comes back to them

They find her body weeks later, adrift in the saline waters of District Four. When Johanna gets the news from the officials, she’s in District Two at her desk in the office, and she had just gotten a text from Gale Hawthorne:

Dinner at 8? We can discuss floor plans for the new Justice Building.

She is about to reply Sure, whatever but deletes his text and runs to the train station instead.

She has no problem signing the custody papers.

No, scratch that. It tears her apart, tears her t piece to have to imagine this little piece of Finnick with her everywhere for the next eighteen years, at least.

But she couldn’t save him in the Capitol. She was horrifically, pathetically helpless, as his body was wrenched apart by all those monsters. Oh yes. This, this, she owes him.

(And she is not helpless this time, not as helpless as everyone –including her –may think.)

Annie loved him and she left this world –their child – to meet him. But she let go so she could be with his...ghost

Johanna loved –loves –him with every fiber of her being, more than she has loved anyone in her life, and she will never leave this world until it takes her itself. She refuses to let go so she can be with hi child.

She’s a realist, and she refuses to dream of seaside spirits and fisherman phantoms.

(She realizes there’s no point in thinking like this. Finnick chose Annie, and that’s that. Nothing will change that, no matter what she does for him.)

Finnie is six years old and doing well in the District 2 school. (He’s married apparently, to a girl named Cindy. They had their wedding in the playground and they’re in love, he tells Jo.)

Gale Hawthorne comes over for dinner sometimes and he holds her hand in his big, rough ones. Nights later, his hands move to her breasts and the plumpness of her bottom, lips brushing her neck hungrily.

(Johanna closes her eyes in bliss and feels ocean water glide down her throat.)

“Jo? What happened to my mom?” fifteen year old Finn (god, he looks just like Finnick) asks Johanna one quiet night. (Actually, the house is almost always quiet after Gale leaves, but he’ll be back again tomorrow at dinner, like he always is.)

He is playing with the strings on his sweatshirt. Usually, anything to do with strings and making knots in rope would bother Johanna, but Finn’s knots are different. They are not the knots of a fisherman, but those of a hunter’s. His weekend trips into the woods with Gale have left his fingers strong and skilled.

“You know what happened to her,” Johanna snaps half-heartedly. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I know, but…” Finn starts, and is quiet for a moment before he asks, “She didn’t want to be with me?”

Something stabs her in her heart, and her insides ache and scream for salty embraces in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time.

She doesn’t answer him. She just kisses him on the cheek and leaves him to make her way to the bathroom.

Splashing water on her face –cold water, she’s improved a little since the war – she glances up at her reflection in the mirror.

Her eyes are rimmed in red. Her soft brown hair (she’s grown it out to her shoulders) is sticking up all over her head, her chapped lips a phantasmal curve, her cheeks grey and hollow in the dim light of the bathroom. Her skin is pale –so, so pale –and she looks like nothing more than an ethereal apparition.

Maybe she does believe in ghosts after all

END.

Fic: Airplanes in the Night Sky (Gossip Girl)

2012-06-04T18:51:24Z

Title: Airplanes in the Night Sky

Fandom: Gossip Girl (TV series)

Pairings: Dan/Georgina, implied!Dan/Blair

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1504 words

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

Notes: Prompt by stainofmylove: Gossip Girl - Dan/Georgina: But you're my favorite, you know it's tr

Summary: Georgina Sparks talks about lingerie. Dan Humphrey tries to get drunk. They're both horny, and they both want revenge. And that's never a good combination. Post Season 5

30,000 feet above the ground, Dan Humphrey stares at Walter Huston and Humphrey Bogart searching for gold in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. This is one of the only selections in the airline's "Classics" collection that doesn't remind him of anyone he doesn't want to be reminded of (He can't watch Rhodes to Africa. And certainly not Breakfast at Tiffany's.)

"Still ignoring me, Humphrey?" Georgina sighs. She slaps her empty bag of peanuts on the plastic dinner tray for dramatic effect, only to have the bright red wrapper fly into her face. "Dan," she snaps, her voice high-pitched and irritable. "Are you listening to me?"

"Nope." Dan's face remains expressionless as he presses the flimsy airplane headphones tighter to his ea

Furious, Georgina rips the headphones off his ear so fast she snaps them in two. He stares, shocked, at the broken pieces in her hands

"Oops," Georgina says, unapologetic, dropping them carelessly in Dan's lap

Just then, an air hostess strolls by with a cart of drinks. "Wine or juice, sir -" she starts, before noticing the broken headphones in Dan's lap.

"Did you break these, sir?" The air hostess's lipsticked smile is sickly sweet, and it sort of makes Dan want to vomit his guts out. He shifts uncomfortably in his cramped seat. People all around them have turned to look

"Uh, well, actually -"

"It was an accident," Georgina blurts out. Dan turns to her, [pleasantly] surprised she decided to fess up. "I swear, I was the one who distracted him. He ripped his headphones off so he could hear me, and they just...broke." She shrugs, plastering a stupid puppy-dog look all over her stupid face.

Dan snorts, mentally slapping himself. Of course she wouldn't

"Not a problem," the air hostess says, her big [fake] smile telling him it is, indeed, very much a problem "Would you like those replaced?"

"Uh, no thanks, I'm -"

"But I'll have to ask you not to break them again, sir!" She lets out a [fake] laugh, at which Georgina chimes in with her own amused giggles until Dan shoots her a look that makes her all but stop.

"Anyhow, wine or juice, sir?" the hostess asks again with pursed lips, hostilely grabbing the mauled headphones from Dan.

He sighs. "Wine." (He's on an airplane to Italy with Georgina Sparks. He's gonna need it.)

"I hear this one designer store in Rome has thebestlingerie in the world," Georgina is chattering on endlessly about god-knows-what.

(OK, so Dan knows exactly what she's talking about. Hey - he's your everyday heartbroken guy. He's not just going to ignore a girl talking about lingerie, is he? Not that he's going to let her know.).

"Remember what I said, Georgina," he says. "Scandal, not seduction."

He picks up his new headphones (the way the air hostess had handed him the headphones so hesitantly, you'd have thought they'd explode the second his fingers touched them) and presses them to his ears.

Georgina lunges to grab them from him, but thinks better of it this time. She takes to rolling her eyes instead.

"Admit it, Dan. Listening to a hot girl go on about lacy underwear is much more appealing than watching Treasure of the Sierra Madre for like, the twentieth time in a row."

His eyes narrow suspiciously at her. "How would you know I've watched it before?"

"You're forgetting I'm the one who took over Gossip Girl."

He snorts. "For what? Like, three weeks?"

"I lasted a lot longer than Serena Van der Woodsen," she snaps.

Dan fidgets, discomfited at the mention of her name. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Georgina turns away. "Never mind, Humphrey."

He cringes at that. "Don't call me that," he says through gritted teeth

"Why?" The Georgina he knows is back, a self-satisfied smirk dancing on her heavily glossed lips. "Remin you of someone you know?"

"That's actually none of your business."

"Oh really? Well then, I'm sure you won't mind me calling you whatever I want, Humphrey."

Sighing, he turns back to his screen. He brought Georgina Sparks along with him so that vengeance could his - not to be incessantly pestered about Blair or Serena. And just to prove he's more than okay, he switches the film to Breakfast at Tiffany's

He doesn't miss the knowing smirk on Georgina's face as Audrey Hepburn takes the stage.

They're an hour left to Italy when the airplane goes into severe turbulence. Dan had always been comfortably with the sky: he feels free, powerful, high up in the sky, like a hawk towering over the rest of the world

He never would have guessed quite how much a wobbly aircraft could scare Georgina Sparks. She's pale as a ghost, clutching the armrests tightly, her eyes wide in horror.

She throws a nervous glance at him. "Any idea when this is going to stop?"

He smirks. "Scared, Georgina?"

She straightens up at that. "No," she says defiantly. "It's just, it's messing up my hair. That's all." She laughs, the false soprano ringing through the quiet airplane. Thankfully, most everyone around them is asleep. "Guess the Frederic Fekkai high gloss shampoo just isn't doing it for me -"

"Georgina, it's okay to be scared, you know."

"Scared?" Her voice is high-pitched, like a little girl's (they're all little boys and girls, really, there's no denying that. They pretend they're not, but they'll always be, until they decide they want to grow up). "I'm not scared. I'm telling you, it's my hair."

Five minutes later, she's clutching the armrests again. "For fuck's sake, this is going on forever," she babbles. "What if it never stops? What if we tumble straight into the Atlantic -"

"Georgina, relax, we're almost -"

"-crash landing! I mean, I do read the news you know, and not just the fashion column. There was this one airplane crash where -"

Georgina lunges for a packet of honey roasted peanuts and starts tossing them into her mouth, one-by-one. Dan can't help but think she resembles a rabid hound

"Georgina, you need to just calm -"

"-too young to die. I still haven't done all the things on my bucket list. I haven't even made a bucket list yet -"

The aircraft shakes harder, and even Dan's starting to feel a bit nervous. He pulls off his headphones and turns to face Georgina.

"Look, it's just a bit windy out there -"

"-haven't even brought down the Upper East Side yet. The way they've fucked me up the last few years -"

That gets Dan's attention. He shuts up and listens

"-especially that stupid Serena. She gets everything I want, everything." Her voice trembles ever-so-slightly, and Dan suddenly understands her previous outburst at him. (Worst of all, he realizes he and Georgina Sparks have much more in common than he'd anticipated.) "Everything's all about them, all the fucking time. Never me, no, not once. I work for everything I get, for every tiny second of attention, but they just seem to get all they want on a perfect, pearl-encrusted dinner plate -"

Dan can't possibly count the number of times he'd thought the exact same thing

"-Archibald's okay, I'm willing to spare him my wrath, but Chuck and Blair and Serena? They need to be taught their lesson." She munches furiously on a peanut. The way her words are slurring, Dan has a feeling she's had a bit too much wine to drink

He is thrown aback when she whips her neck around to face him. "We're gonna make them pay, Dan, I'll see to it." She reaches her arm out to stroke his cheek, and the gesture is almost gentle, were it not for the person the hand belonged to. "You were always my favorite, Humphrey." She doesn't say it seductively or or with a bitter edge to her voice- she's just stating a plain and simple fact. "Always will be."

Dan forces out a laugh, pushing her hand away from his face. "I think someone's had a little bit too much to drink," he teases lightly. "Or maybe it's the nerves..." he gestures to the trembling airplane.

Georgina turns away. "You know it's true," is all she says before clutching the armrests again

She might have had too much to drink, and it might have been the nerves, but what she'd said to him was true. He was always her favorite, always will be.

(She'll tell him this again, days later. She'll whisper it into his neck as he moves roughly above her one hot summer night in a Milanese hotel room. "You've always been my favorite," she'll gasp into him, everything feeling so right and wrong and deliciously vindictive all at the same time. And later, later they'll sit with a stack of papers, Papermate pen in his hand and a Mont Blanc in hers, and they'll write out the truth of the Upper East Side they should've told the world so, so long ago.)

THE END.

fic: Cross My Stars and Hope to Die (THG)

2012-04-05T17:30:37Z

Cross My Stars and Hope to Die: A THG fic

Fandom The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins
Pairings Peeta/Katniss
Rating: T
Wordcount 2529 words
Disclaimer I do not own the Hunger Games.
Notes: Mockingjay spoilers. Kind of tragic
Summary Peeta Mellark loves Katniss Everdeen, but who said love can't kill? Four times Peeta Mellark has a flashback, and one time it goes too far

...

Once, just once, and never again

Not anymore, never again

Ever-broken promises, again and again

...

"I want to see it again," is the first thing Katniss Everdeen says that fateful morning.

"See what?" Peeta Mellark asks sleepily, his naked body intertwined with hers. His thoughts flash to the night before.

It was their first time, his body moving perfectly in sync with the girl of his dreams, the sweetness of their kisses mixed with a bitter drop of her pain. Just th slightest rop.

In the end they lay together on the sticky sheets (they smelle just like her, just like the woods and her flowery shampoo), their rapid breathing the only thing they could hear, until Peeta asked, "You love me. Real or not real?"

Katniss smiled up at him, her cheeks glowing pink with pleasure. "Real," she said, and Peeta's world was complete.

Is omplete.

Her words break into his thoughts when she says, "I want to see District Twelve again. I want to see the ruins."

Peeta sits up, attentive, as he gathers her in his arms. "Katniss, are you sure? Didn't you go just a few weeks ago –"

"No." Katniss shakes her head, looking up at him. "What I meant is...I want to see them wit you." She runs a slender hand through his blonde hair, sending a shiver down his back. "Together," she finishes firmly.

Peeta smiles softly, nodding in agreement. "Let's get ready then."

He starts to get off the bed, but Katniss throws her arms around his neck, trapping him close to her body. "Wait," she murmurs, smirking, pressing her breasts against his chest. "There's something we need to do first..."

He grins and rolls his body over hers. The star-crossed lovers' stars seem to have uncrossed.

Or so they think.

Reconstruction is rampant throughout District 12, but there is much left to be done. The ashes that once used to be the Hob have spread and settled and are now nothing more than a few handfuls of dust tainting the clean earth. A few unlawful rebels left loitering about in a free world.

The comparison is fitting, Katniss thinks, as she and Peeta make their way about the district, silent under the gray canvas of the skies.

Slowly and steadily, they reach the ruins of the Mellarks' bakery. Katniss can't help but think the destroyed, burnt cement matches the melancholy clouds that loom above them.

She turns to embrace Peeta, to comfort him and be comforted, but what she sees stops her in her tracks.

Peeta falls to his knees on the ground, clutching at the few chunks of his home that litter the ground. His home, his home his home.

"Father," he whispers hoarsely to himself. He remembers his father, round-bellied and good-natured, giving out free cookies to his friends. "Where are you, Dad?"

And then he remembers She illed them The mutt.

Another voice whispers to him She didn't kill him –the Capitol did. You love her, for real. She loves you, for real. Real, real, real.

No. She's a mutt. A mutt, a mutt, an evi mutt.

He leaps up from the ground, stone in hand, and throws it in her direction. Katniss lets out a shriek, tripping back a few steps. A small trickle of blood oozes out of her left temple, the same place Johanna Mason had hit her an eternity ago.

No! he sensible voice screams at him Stop, you fool, stop!

Some distant, detached part of him calls out, his voice angry and desperate, like a lost echo, "You love me! Real or not real?"

And he hears, "Real, Peeta, real Always!"

He falls back on his knees and digs his nails into the crumbly dirt and debris, holding on to whatever i real, real, real.

Later that night, he cries when he sees the mark on his beloved's head.

...

Tell me you love me, I want to believe it

Whenever you're sorry, I want to believe it

On and on this goes, but will I ever believe it?

...

He aunts her dreams tonight (even after five years of never seeing him –she doesn't count his lifeless, plastic smiles on the television screen).

A grey-eyed hunter standing in the middle of the forest –their orest –the muscles in his arms rippling in the meager sunlight, the sky concealed by monstrous clouds of silver parachutes.

And out of nowhere, it rains fire.

She hears the grey-eyed hunte scream.

"Gale!" Katniss Mellark shrieks. "Gale!"

She bolts upright, her forehead sweating. "Gale, Gale, Gale," she whimpers into the dark of night, shivering (but not from the cold).

She turns to Peeta for comfort, but he is already awake and standing, his body shaking violently. He holds onto the headboard for support, fo sanity, but it's not enough. He is losing himself.

"You mutt," he snarls at her. "You hore. You're a fucking whore, aren't you?"

Katniss is speechless, because this is not Peeta Mellark. This is not her Peeta Mellark.

"Peeta," she whispers fearfully.

"Don't say my name like that!" he roars at her, his hands still clutching the headboard tightly. "Fuckin slut. You think abou hi at night, don't you? When you're with me? You think abou him!"

"No, Peeta, no," Katniss answers, her voice firm but afraid. "It's you, onl you."

"You're cheating on me, aren't you?" Peeta says, his blue eyes aflame even in the dark. "You cheatin mutt." One of his hands lets go of the headboard and Katniss stiffens, expecting the worst. But suddenly there's a glimmer of recognition in his eyes and he moves his hand back to the headboard, his eyes squeezed shut, his legs still trembling.

There are apologies the next morning. There are kisses. There are sweet, sweaty, sticky minutes spent in their bed. There are promises of "real, real, real."

(They never mention this again.)

...

Tear me apart, it's nothing new

Hell on earth, it's nothing new

Reap my children, it's nothing new

Ever-painful kisses, it's nothing new

End a life, it's nothing new

...

It was never supposed to happen. Never, never never.

But when your stars cross, they only uncross on their terms.

(Katniss Mellark has yet to accept that, even ten years after the War.)

She puts on a hand on her belly, gently rubbing it, acutely aware of the child growing inside of her. A horrible flame of fear threatens to consume her and burn her senses alive, but Peeta is there.

Her boy with the bread, her dandelion, her light spring rain that cools her when her fire burns too bright.

She looks to him for reassurance, for comfort, for hope. And he gives it to her.

Most of the time.

"I'm scared, Peeta," she tells him honestly one night after dinner as they're washing the dishes. Haymitch is sitting somewhere in the living room, drowning in his alcohol as usual. She looks up at her husband, wanting to be kissed and held and tol it will be alright, and that she'd have him always.

But that doesn't come.

What she sees instead is Peeta Mellark gripping the side of the kitchen table, eyes shut and nostrils flaring.

No, atniss thinks, her heart racing and sinking at the same time No, please, no...

When his eyes open, they're two blocks of sapphire ice, jus begging o pierce into her. "You'll kill it," he whispers hoarsely, his expression bitter and unforgiving. "You'll kill my child, you filthy mutt! I won't let you!" His words end in a shout of anger as he releases himself from the table and lunges for his wife.

Hunter skills partially intact, Katniss sidesteps his attack and runs to the corner of the kitchen –there's no other place to go. He backs her into the wall. "Peeta," Katniss pleads. Her cries are desperate, her voice choking Why doesn't he see her, why, why why? quot;Peeta, no –I love you, Peeta I love you!"

This time, though, the words are not enough.

He rams into her, fist landing in her stomach Hard.

She falls to the ground, clutching at her belly, trying to breathe, trying to crawl away. She screams in terror as her husband's foot raises above her, ready to meet her side, when suddenly he is wrenched back with an almighty force.

Katniss looks up to see Haymitch Abernathy dragging a psychotic, screaming Peeta away from her.

"Snap the hell out of it!" Haymitch shouts at Peeta, restraining him with a force that makes Katniss wonder whether he is really drunk at all.

The older man does not let go of the younger one until all his shiny memories have dissolved, leaving him sick and horrified and lying on the floor, drowning in a pool of his tears.

Katniss Mellark doesn't cry much these days. She sweats and shakes and screams after horrific nightmares and the relentless memories that reemerge from the depths of her mind, never truly going away.

But sh cries hen she finds that the child inside her is no more.

(There are no words for what Peeta Mellark feels.)

...

Forgive me please, I'm trying

Once, just once, I'm trying

Understand, I'm trying

Real or not, I'm trying

...

It is not yet dawn when Katniss Mellark goes into labor, five years after her first and only miscarriage.

She lies in her bed, her mother soothing her and offering her morphling. Katniss takes it readily, eager to be rid of the pain that threatens to tear her body apart.

But most of all, Katniss Mellark wants the morphling so she ca forget. She wants t forget er husband is in the adjoining room, being restrained by Haymitch Abernathy, all because he thinks she's a mutant monster out to kill him. Out to kill her own husband.

She screams in pain as Mrs. Everdeen encourages her to push harder. The pain that racks her body is like no other, only slightly dimmed by the effects of the morphling (because Mrs. Everdeen knows all too well what her daughter wants the drugs for).

There is suddenly silence in the other room. "Is that Katniss screaming?" she hears Peeta ask Haymitch.

"Yes," Haymitch replies, his voice softer and calmer. "It is."

Katniss feels a wave of relief run through her. Her husband is back he's back, and he'll be here any moment to hold her hand and –

There is a burst of sharp, cruel laughter. The sound sends chills down her back, and her eyes flood with tears when she realizes the wretched sound came from none other than Peeta himself.

"Good," he snarls viciously. "I like hearing her scream. She deserves it, she fuckin deserves t, the evi mutt."

Tears run down Mrs. Everdeen's face, but it does not distract her from the task at hand.

Katniss screams again, followed closely by another one of Peeta's sick, mirthless chortles of sick, mirthless pleasure.

When the worst of her pain has passed, Peeta hurries to his wife's side, so full of regret and remorse he wants t die.

He clutches her hand, and she looks up at his tear-streaked face.

"I'm so, so, sorry," Peeta whispers numbly into her palm.

She squeezes his hands, her eyes rimmed in red. "Stay with me Please."

Peeta makes sure his voice doesn't break as he promises her, "Always."

As they hold their precious baby girl together, the joy that floods their hearts overtakes any fears that plague their souls.

Katniss looks up from her suckling bundle of joy to her husband and smiles tiredly. "You love us, Daddy Mellark. Real or not real?"

The smile that lights up his face is brighter than any star that's ever had th nerve o cross them. "Real, Mommy Mellark and Baby Mellark. So, so so eal."

...

Forever no more, 'cause it's too late

It's not your fault, but it's too late

Voices whispering, it's too late

Ever-crossed stars, it's too late

...

Peeta Mellark does not have another flashback for many years –decades ctually. At least not a particularly memorable one (and that is a good thing, obviously).

But volcanoes do not stay dormant forever.

It happens on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Haymitch Abernathy passes away, for no reason other than the inevitable state o being old.

It's a quiet affair, the funeral (if you want to call it that). They bury him in the night, simply and silently, their tears making no noise. Only Katniss, Peeta, and Hazelle are there to send him off to...Wherever.

There is no headstone and there are no speeches –Peeta can't, he jus can't ndash;but Katniss makes sure to leave a bottle of white liquor in his coffin before he is left to his eternal slumber beneath the earth.

Hours later, Katniss and Peeta are left to mourn alone under the light of the full moon.

Peeta gazes at the grave, feeling empty. He is suddenly aware of his wife's presence beside him and a long-forgotten (or maybe just long-buried) wave of anger rolls over him as he looks up at her.

His wife.

Katniss.

Mutt.

"You killed him, didn't you?" he rasps out. Katniss snaps her head up at him, bewildered. "You killed him!"

"Peeta–"

"Mutt! You're going to kill me next, aren't you?" he demands, a horrific, panicky fear rising in him, threatening to swallow him whole My wife killed him, she killed him, she'll kil me.

Fuck, h needs o do this. He needs to do thi now.

Before Katniss can say or do anything, Peeta wraps his hands around her throat.

"Peeta," Katniss pleads as her husband towers over her, his eyes cold and mad. "Peeta, I love you! We're real this s real, Peeta!"

Her words register in his mind –just a little bit –but then his eyes land on Haymitch Abernathy's grave and he i sure.

(He should've done this so, so long ago.)

He squeezes his wife's neck Hard.

She is buried next to her mentor, the Girl on Fire finally burnt out.

Peeta Mellark kneels at his beloved's grave (he demanded headstones for them, for the drunkard and his pupi both), sobbing and saying things that make no sense to passersby, things that (if you listen closely very losely) sound like, 'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you, I love you, real rea real.

But his cries and his words are in vain. She can't hear her. (He knows that. That doesn't stop him from pretending.)

The mockingjays are silent as they mourn, distraught, but they carry on –eventually. They carry on for thei queen.

Days later, the citizens of Twelve can hear the chilling notes of a distant bird song, and sometimes –sometimes ndash; they sing along.

...are you, are you coming to the tree...

He never does have a flashback again.

(But what good does that do him now?)

Years later, Peeta Mellark dies. He is buried right beside the woman of his dreams, his corpse heavy with old age and a heart full of love and regret.

They all like to think they're in a better place now. Maybe they are.

Maybe the star-crossed lovers have met once again, this time in the place where their stars first crossed.