real katniss

???Katniss the Story Teller???

This  is for @loveinpanem as a thank you for everything you guys do. Talented, beautiful, creative and smart love you all.

rated T  &un-betad all mistakes are mine.

Katniss slew dragons, and toppled governments, and once upon a time she’d been known as the Mockingjay. Today she rocked back and forth simply wanting for the boy she loved to pay attention to her. She’d do anything to bring back his memory. She fanned herself, the hot sun caused her to opt out of wearing pants. She wore a light dress. Her eyes once more went toward the direction of Peeta’s home.

“What’s the matter girl?” Haymitch shouted from across his porch. “You want the boy to kiss you,” he laughed so hard he began to cough.

Katniss stood up and narrowed her eyes at her former mentor. Without answering him she opened the door to her house and slammed it shut. Frustrated she banged her hand against the door.

There had to be a way to get Peeta to realize her feelings. Two years after the war they were in a better place both of them. She’d taken it slow, building up a friendship with him. They’d slept in each other’s bed when unable to sleep, but it was an occasional thing. They’d held hands, they’d given each other pecks on the mouth, and long embraces.  But none of those things were enough; Katniss wanted and was ready for more. If she weren’t so backwards when it came to relationships and men she wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“What’s wrong Katniss?”

She whipped around to see Peeta standing in her living room a basket of bread in his hands. “Peeta, what are you doing here?”

Keep reading

So, I’m a bit further ahead in my reread, because I’m starting with an anniversary reread (five years! I’m such a nerd!), and am almost finished with the first book.

It’s been a while since I’ve really dwelled much in the Hunger Games world. I mean, I’ve never stopped loving it, but recent years have been focused more on a lot of other things. So I feel like I’m reading them almost with fresh eyes again, so to speak. And the thing that’s really, really obviously to me now, that I know I picked up on previously, but was never keenly aware of as I am now? It’s just how much Katniss struggles not to feel Human Emotions, and how the events over the course of the book force her to begin feeling things. 

She pushes her mother away, she keeps Gale at something of a distance, even if she knows she does care about him. There are multiple times through out the book where she unconsciously lets on that she is, very naturally, attracted to Peeta in a way she really can’t help–but she’s so determined to prevent herself from being hurt, she refuses to even acknowledge to herself that she’s drawn to him. The only person she will openly allow herself to admit she cares for is Prim.

It’s interesting, because I think this is a pretty typical defense mechanism for someone who’s actually really tender at heart. Over the course, you really see her begin to break down these walls, and maybe even begin to understand how unhealthy and unobtainable it is to not care about anybody. Katniss wants to be a robot so badly in the first book, but the Games, the very reason she tries to be that way, are exactly what force her to confront and accept that she isn’t. That does, in fact, care a great deal about people, and even more, she actually does want them around. And the part that I think is really interesting is that you can see this as being something of a metaphor for Panem as a nation. Snow uses the Games to keep everyone divided: the Capitol is divided from the districts, the districts are kept away from each other, and even within the districts themselves we see division, such as the Seam vs. the Merchants in 12. But by Mockingjay, the nation has learned to come together, and people are allowed to mix and mingle with citizens from other districts and the Capitol.

I feel like the question Suzanne Collins wants us to be asking ourselves is, how can we apply this lesson to real life?


Canon Katniss vs. Movie Katniss

I’ve done something like this once before, but I since I’ve improved a lot in photomanipulation since 2014, I wanted to do it more in-depth. As much as I like how JLaw portrayed this character, I will never accept her as the real Katniss. To me, whitewashing Katniss Everdeen took a poignant story of oppression and rebellion and turned it into your typical white savior narrative, and I think that was a truly wasted opportunity. 

— Alleato. — Peeta pronuncia il termine lentamente,
assaporandolo. — Amica. Innamorata. Vincitrice.
Nemica. Fidanzata. Obiettivo. Ibrido. Vicina di casa.
Cacciatrice. Tributo. Alleata. Aggiungerò anche questa
all’elenco delle parole che uso per cercare di capirti. —
Fa passare la corda avanti e indietro tra le dita. — Il
problema è che non riesco più a riconoscere cosa sia
vero e cosa sia inventato.

Into the Woods

So, I was going through my old writings and found this one that was actually decent. Although at the time I remember putting it aside to turn it into a full story with several chapters, it’s clearly not going to happen. So here it is.

Panem AU where Peeta is a Peacekeeper. Mr. Everdeen lives. Katniss hunts and trades, and grows, blooms, and sings. (Also, older Peeta).

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, I’m just having fun. Unbeta’d.

“Here.” She stares at him, silently telling him something he doesn’t understand. They’ve crossed the Meadow and are standing near the end of the District, right beside the fence. She looks around them, before crawling under the fence.

“C’mon!” she incites him once on the other side, almost bouncing on her feet. She looks like a kid.

She is a kid, he thinks.

It only dawns on him when he sees the woods behind her. He can’t believe he didn’t catch up on it earlier. “Katniss, I—” he shakes his head, pressing his sweaty palms against his trousers to dry them, “I can’t.”

“I can’t either,” she tells him, her voice stern, “but that doesn’t stop me.”

“It’s different for me.”

“No, it’s not.” God, she’s stubborn. “C’mon! Hurry! Before someone sees.”

This is what gets him moving. He wouldn’t risk her getting caught because of his fault. He wouldn’t risk her getting caught period. “I’m so going to regret this,” he grumbles under his breath, as he worms his way to the other side. He can hear her snort above him.

When he stands back up, she doesn’t give him a second to get his bearings before she grabs his hand and runs to the forest, pulling him behind her. He can feel a laugh bubbling inside him. It feels good. It’s freeing. He feels like a kid himself.

They only stop once they cross the tree line and then continue walking, deeper into the woods, calming their breaths.

“So this is why you asked me if I had normal clothes,” he muses, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, can’t have you dirtying your spotless uniform in the woods.”

He chuckles. “I’ll have you know, I have plenty of normal clothes. I just never wear them around you.” He wonders if it’s weird for her, seeing him dressed like this, with regular gray pants and a light jacket. The jacket definitely feels weird on him, he can’t remember the last time he put it on. But she hadn’t commented on it, just eyed him approvingly when she had seen him standing under the low branches of the oak tree in the border of the Meadow where they had agreed to meet before sunrise.

“Do you wear them at all?” she blurts out, clearly noticing the tight fit of the jacket, “or did you go buy them in Town after I asked you about it?”

“No. I had them already.” He tries to fight the blush that creeps up his neck. He had considered doing exactly that, but had felt ridiculous at the thought of it. He had perfectly good clothes he could use. “I’m only supposed to wear them when I’m at home, though.”

“Oh. Right.” She seems to only be realising this now. “It’s just- I only ever see you in your uniform… So, I didn’t… I didn’t really know. That’s all.”

“I know,” he says softly, squeezing her hand.

They stop in front of a log, and she lets go of his hand, reaching inside a hollow and retrieving a bow and a quiver full of arrows. He gawks while she puts the latter over her head. It’s like he’s meeting a new, secret, side of her. This is the famous huntress.

“Will I get to see you in action, huntress?”

“Only if you behave,” she teases, patting his head.

He laughs, smacking a kiss on her cheek in return.

They go wandering through the forest, looking for game. Unfortunately, his heavy feet keep making fallen leafs crunch and dry twigs snap. His footsteps are too loud for them to even get close to any distracted prey, but she does fire a few arrows to different knots in the trees, after an embarrassing amount of pleading from his part, for him to see. She hits her marks right on the centre. He takes note to never make her mad while she has her bow in her hands.

Even though he is inappropriately attracted to his company, he can’t stop looking around him, trying to drink in all the colours. He understands why she brought him here, why she wanted to share this with him. And it just makes him care about her all that much more.

And later, she points a mockingjay perched on a low branch, gesturing him to remain silent. She whistles a few notes, the bird soon answering in return. And when she shyly sings a lullaby about a valley, and the bird falls silent just like him, he swears, right then, he’s a goner.

They’re lying in a small clearing they found; she’s tucked against his side, almost on top of

him, her nose buried in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped around her.

“I wish I was from here,” he sighs, his hand gently running through her hair, “then I could be with you every time I wanted, no matter who sees.”

It’s a nice thought. Peeta being born in the same District as her. Him pulling on her braid at school as they grow up. Walking into Town, hand in hand. Introducing him to Prim. Being allowed to be seen with him.

But she isn’t. And he still was born in Two. “You’d be a merchant,” she tells him bluntly and that’s the end of it. Or so she thinks.

“How could you possibly know that?” he teases. His fingers skimming up her side. “Hmm?”

“Look at you!” she exclaims. “All blue eyes and blonde hair, you might as well be a townie.”

“So what? I’d offer you my arm and parade you all over the district, we’d eat at the Hob together like a real couple and not just ‘coincidently’ meeting there,” he grabs her hand as he talks and moves it up and around, gesturing through the air, painting that world around them with his words, imaging doing exactly what he says, “I’d take you out on dates. Heck, I’d take you to the slag heap if you asked me to. I’d dance with you in the middle of the Town Square at the Harvest Festival, right in front of the baker’s wife’s disgusted stare and the florist’s scornful remarks.” He’s cheerful about it, as if he can’t think of anything better than being the object of gossip because of the divide between Seam and Town. If it only were that simple.

“…I’d ask you to toast bread with me.” He finishes in barely a whisper.

Her answer gets stuck in her throat and suddenly the air seems much heavier around them. It’s too much. She rolls to her side and away from him, getting up. It’s pointless to think like that, she should know better than to picture what he says.

She does know better. It’s not real. And it’s useless.


She has to get away. “We should, I mean, I uh… I should probably hunt something. To show for— when we go back.” Her voice comes out raw, and ugly, and wrong. She curses herself for not being able to keep it in check. She doesn’t wait for his reply though. “Yeah, I um, I’ll be right back.” She doesn’t even look his way. Her breaths seem to be caught somewhere inside her, in the constricting of her chest maybe, or in the ache of her heart. She tightens her hold on her bow, as she blinks away the prickle of tears in her eyes.

It’s not real.

She’ll repeat it to herself until it sticks in her head.