Risen from the ashes? I'm not so sure. I think I'm still buried beneath the rubble of my mistakes. A hero? I'm far from it. A traitor? That sounds more like it.

An Indie Katniss RP blog

I track xforeverdeen

Sep 2014

commander-mahariel:

Do you ever think about your OTP having muffled, rough sex against a wall

Because I do

Sep 2014

It’s the things we love most that destroy us.

Sep 2014
1
Sep 2014

IF I GET TEN “SINGS” THE MUN WILL RECORD THEMSELVES SINGING.

1/10-OF COURSE YOU WOULD. 

Sep 2014

If I get 10 ‘SING’ s The Mun Shall Record Themselves Singing

haybitchsassernathy:

rpaskboxmemes:

Suggest songs to them, and whatever they want to pick, they will sing.

HAHA

Sep 2014
Sep 2014

 I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.

Sep 2014

ihaveplentyoffiremyself:

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Trailer – “The Mockingjay Lives”

Sep 2014

I’ve Lost Control; Peeta & Katniss

mellarkiestmellark:

This is pure hell for him. Nothing short of it. The pain during the first Games when his leg had been killing itself, that was nothing. All the abuse he endured year after year from his mother, a piece of cake. Even as recently as having to go back to District 12 and look on it’s ashes, feel the loss of home even that much more present, describe the things he saw all for the sake of propaganda and sympathy - which was a cheap trick in his opinion - felt like just a pin prick compared to this.

The waiting. All of this waiting. He had tried over and over again, at least a dozen times to convince Coin that he should be allowed to go on the mission to the Capitol. He was the Voice after all. He was important. Just as important as this mission it seemed sometimes. And what was a Voice without a Mockingjay?

But no. It had been deemed too risky in the end and no matter how much he had begged and pleaded, Peeta was left out of the mission to the Capitol to retrieve Katniss and the other prisoners. And it felt like lifetimes ago that the team had left. His nails had been chewed down to nothing, but stubs now. The pacing was not helping either, admittedly, but the nervous energy within him would not let him stop or rest.

Even worse than the waiting was not hearing a word. Part of him was convinced everyone was keeping him out of the loop for the hope that he would just continue being their puppet if things did not go well. As if he had a choice at this point. Haymitch, Gale, Primrose, himself, all of them were all too far in, weaved too tightly into the very fibers of this situation to break free. He was going to be their Voice until this was over or he was dead. Still, everyone was as silent as the dead when it came to any sort of progress.

Both Haymitch and Peeta had already written off whatever was printed on their arms at the beginning of each day and were waiting together in their deserted hallway. As usual, Haymitch sat, slightly slumped forward, looking more and more cross by the second. His lack of alcohol seemed to have added a bit more salt to his pepper hair too, making him seem older too. Then again, this place had that effect on people, Peeta couldn’t help but think to himself. It seemed to age everyone who stepped in. Meanwhile, Peeta himself had practically started to grind a path into the floor as he made his hundredth pass in the last ten minutes.

"Will you give it up, boy? All this walking, it’s giving me a headache and making me feel tired. Just sit down, will you?" Haymitch snapped, though there was no real malice behind his voice. He just truly did sound tired.

"I can’t," was all Peeta managed to mumble back as he continued his pace. Twenty steps on way, twenty back the other. It’s clear, steady, and even. Just what he needs. Like all those days in the bakery, doing the mindless work of kneading dough. A count one way, smooth and steady, change directions, and repeat. Over and over again. Just like Finnick’s knots, the pacing helped, mindless and soothing.

He was just ready to turn back towards Haymitch, march on, when the doors in front of him opened suddenly. Peeta snapped his head up to see Primrose, dressed in her nurse’s uniform already, with a frantic looking Finnick at her side. All it took though was two words from the young girl before Peeta was just as frantic as Finnick.

"They’re back."

Before another word could be said, Primrose was leading the three men, Finnick, Haymitch, and Peeta through the halls of District 13 towards the hospital wing. But it was the two youngest men that were pelting the girl with constant questions the whole way there. “What does she look like?” “How is she?” “Did she ask for me?” “Is she okay?”

"I don’t know too much," Primrose insisted. "They told me to get you before I could get a good look, but… I don’t know. The way they were talking, something is wrong. I’m not sure what, but just something."

This set worry into the two mens’ systems. But before anything could be done to ease that worry, they were bursting into the busy hospital wing. Nurses and doctors were hurrying around, tending to the rescue team here at the entrance. They breezed past them, grateful that they were all mostly all right, but more focused on the rescued. The next room held two familiar faces.

"Finnick!" A soft, chime-like voice calls out to them, and all heads turn to the wispy, tiny, dark-haired beauty almost like Peeta’s.

"Annie," Finnick breathes next to Peeta, before he takes off towards her. The pair practically sprint to close the distance between them, falling into each others’ arms with ease and clinging on for dear life to the other.

"It’s so sweet, I might actually throw up," a darker female voice says. Peeta turns his head immediately to see Johanna sitting on a table, being checked over. Her head is shaved clean down, nothing left of her once short, spiky hair. She looks almost like a skeleton, her skin clinging to her frame, and all over her are marks. Burns, cuts, scratches, skin rubbed raw. She looks horrible, and it only puts more fear into Peeta that Katniss might be worse.

Broken out of is thoughts though, Primrose touches his arm and pulls his attention back to the here and now. “Come on. She’s asking for you,” she says, puling on his arm gently.

And despite the fear and worry, hope also blooms. Perhaps he could have his own moment like Finnick and Annie. In the back of his mind, Peeta imagines running to Katniss’ arms, holding her close like those nights on the train, and finally sharing a real kiss, one not for cameras, but just for them. A million I miss you’s are already forming on the tip of his tongue the moment the door swings open and Primrose leads Peeta into the final room.

But the moment that blue meets grey and he finds her eyes all over again, all thoughts, all function, all words fall away. Katniss. Alive. Right there. Leagues of relief flood into his system as a small smile starts to from on his lips. What could be better?

As they lead her into the depths of Thirteen, the unseen underbelly of Panem, her mind is still racing. Peeta. Peeta. Kill Peeta. He wants you dead. It plays over and over again in her head like a sadistic song, a demonic prayer. It would be disturbing to anyone else who head it, but to Katniss, it’s appealing. A wiry smile still graces her features as she follows Boggs and Gale through the intricate tunnels of the District. How many more turns until she sees Peeta? For a moment, the sadism stops, for a second her heart soars at the thought of seeing him again, but the darkness rushes in like a tide and swipes it away in an instant. He never loved you. He’s wanted you dead from the beginning. Kill him before he kills you.

The hospital is cold and smells too sterile for Katniss’ liking. She’s suddenly reminded of the Capitol, a while room, strapped to a table, staring up at a bright, fluorescent light before men with masks are surrounding her, needle in hand and then everything is fuzzy, silver, blurry, shiny. She can’t see straight again. She’s about to lose it. But then there’s a small hand on her shoulder. She whips around, ready to defend herself only to be met with Prim’s blue eyes and shining smile. Prim’s the reason you’re here at all. If her name hadn’t gotten picked, you’d be fine. It was the one thing that couldn’t convince her was true. She knows better. She had gotten herself into this mess and now she’s going to get herself out.

“Prim,” Katniss says, pulling her younger sister into a tight embrace. She notices that Gale and Boggs are still watching her closely. She can’t help but wonder if they know what she has planned the minute that Peeta’s in her presence. Kill Peeta. Kill Peeta. “How are you, little duck?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she says, pulling away from Katniss and giving her a soft smile. “I’m more worried about you. Why don’t you come sit down and I’ll look you over?”

“Are you working in the clinic?” Katniss asks, a bit perplexed. Sometimes she still sees Prim as the small, helpless, twelve-year-old having nightmares about the reaping. She knows that’s not true anymore, however, even with her disoriented state of mind.

“Yeah,” Prim says as she leads her older sister to a cot and helps her sit on the edge. “They said I was a natural.”

A small, but genuine smile appears on Katniss’ face at her sister’s answer. She always knew that Prim would take after their mother in the healing department. She’s not surprised and she’s glad that Prim has found a way to aid in whatever it was.

Her pleasant thoughts don’t last long. Killing Peeta is a priority. They helped make it that way. She’s a woman obsessed. She’s desperate to see him, eager to watch the light drain from those blue eyes she once thought she loved. Now she knows. She knows that every single one of his smooth words, and so called heartfelt phrases were just one pretty lie after the other, all designed to trick her, to get her to trust him until he could move in for the kill. He never loved you. He lied to you. You let him in and he was lying to you all along. Kill him, Katniss. Kill him before he kills you.

As Prom looks her over, stopping occasionally to scribble something down, she can’t help but ask the question that keeps running through her racing mind. “Where’s Peeta?”

Prim glances up at her sister, a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’ll get to see him soon. I’m almost done. He’s been a wreck. I’m sure he can’t wait to see you.”

Again, Katniss’ heart wants to betray what she knows in her mind. Peeta missed her? No.  He doesn’t love you. But then why would he be a wreck? He never loved you. It was all an act. You weren’t the only one pretending.

“I want to see him now,” Katniss insists. Her tone isn’t hostile with Prim like it was with Gale and Johanna. She can’t hate Prim. Prim is the only one who has never wronged her.

At just that moment, Gale comes over, and sinks onto the cot next to Katniss. “How are you feeling, Catnip?”

The reaction she gives is almost immediate. Acidic and fully of the hostility that she can’t bring herself to use against hers sister.  “Why are you here? To take advantage of me while I’m vulnerable?”

Gale’s taken aback. She can tell. He scoots away from her, grey eyes wide at the accusation. “What the hell, Katniss? Why are you acting like this? I would never do that to you.”

And maybe she hesitates for a moment, maybe she remember all the good things he’s done for her, but they’re blurry memories that feel like a dream. She isn’t sure they’re real. All she remembers are the time she’s really have liked to punch Gale in the face before she responds. “Oh really? Weren’t you the one that told me that you loved me when I was staring down the barrel of Snow’s gun for starting a Rebellion? Caught me off-guard when I was down. Who does that? If you’re here to try and get me for your own selfish gain you can fuck off, Hawthorne.” He only wants you for his own selfish reasons. That’s all he’s ever wanted from you. He probably wants you dead too. Gale doesn’t care about you.

“Katniss,” Prim says quietly. “I don’t understand. Are you all right?”

“No, Prim,” Gale says, clearly trying not to appear hurt by Katniss’ accusations. “Something’s wrong with her head. They did something to her in the Captiol.”

Katniss lets out a dark laugh, glancing at the two before her. They don’t know the half of it. The torture she’s seen is brutal. It wasn’t pleasant regardless of how much it opened her eyes. “Don’t worry about me,” she says. “I’m fine.”

Neither of them is convinced. She can see it in their eyes and some, small voice from the shell of the girl she used to be in the back of her mind agrees with them. But there’s too many other voices drowning her out.

“Katniss, you’re not acting like yourself and I don’t know if you need to see anyone else until we know what’s wrong,” Gale insists.

“You aren’t in charge of me,” she snaps.  “And I want to see Peeta.”

Prim sighs, looking at Gale. “Gale, she was fine when it was just me. Let’s just get Peeta. It might do her some good.

Gale nods, obviously not agreeing with this decision before disappearing with Prim to go find Peeta. Katniss grins, her mission is almost complete. As soon as Peeta is in her sighs, she can end all of this. Kill Peeta. Save yourself. That’s what you’ve always wanted to do. You’re violet, manipulative, selfish. Be who you really are.

It isn’t long before Prim pulls Peeta through the crowd and Katniss’ eyes settle on her new prey. She gets up from the cot, rushing at him, maybe Peeta thinks that she’s going to hug him, but that’s not it. By some brute force within her weak body, she manages to topple him to the ground, screaming. “You fucking liar! You mutt! You wanted me dead all along! I’ll kill you!” Then she practically straddles him, wrapping her hands around his throat and pushing on his windpipe with every ounce of strength she has.

Kill Peeta. Kill Peeta. Kill Peeta. 

0
Sep 2014
"I'm trying to HELP you."

image

Katniss leans back in her chair, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. What was she trying to help her do? Prep for the cameras? Be someone that she’s not? How is that helping her? She lets out a long sigh, knowing that regardless of what she feels, she’ll have to accept Portia’s “help”.

"I know that," Katniss finally says, trying not to let her reluctance to cooperate show. "Where do we start?"

©ID