a private, independent, and selective portrayal of ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, victor of the second quarter quell, the fiftieth annual ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐. this blog will deal with themes of alcoholism, ptsd, canon-typical violence, and more. proceed with caution. minors and personal blogs do not interact.
๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐: chasing oblivion; begging for a haunting; ย i'll swim through the earth, like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones; losing the battle / winning the war; a pyrrhic victory.
mutuals only. i don't interact with asks or starters from people that i don't follow.
due to the nature of the source material, this blog will feature mature and potentially triggering content. if you are under the age of twenty-one, please do not follow or interact.
no force-shipping. if you write problematic ships, for example inc*st, you will be softblocked.
the third quarter quell. it's crept up on him. like old age. like the threat of sunrise after a long, fitful sleep. the anthem blares, snow takes the stage, and it's as though he sees haymitch โ like after all this time, after years of spinning out and trying to forge a life in solitude, he's been drawn back into the president's orbit. tethered as though by a red string. by a line of petals over frozen ground.
" on the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes. " clinical, as always. haymitch sips his whiskey and watches on through half-lidded eyes. how bad can it be, really? kids will die. kids like louella, lou lou, wyatt, ampert, maysilee, and lenore dove. kids will die, and there'll be no stopping it. how much worse can it get?
" on the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors. "
by the time the door creaks open, the walls are painted with liquor. the table, where he'd been sipping his drink in relative peace, is cracked down the middle. splintered wood and shattered glass. it's peeta, because of course it's peeta.
katniss will come later.
" i know what you have to do, but let me do it. " @sunpersists
he doesn't have to ask what it is. it's been snapping at his heels like a hungry dog since he turned sixteen. they're intimately acquainted. this is how it was always going to end โ jaws fastened tight around his neck. if only his star-crossed victors had come just two years later. " why, " he sighs, turning to the figure in the doorway. " would i do that? "
gonna throw a silly little plotting call out while i continue setting things up and send memes to all my gorg new mutuals. like this for a me in ur dms
anyone else thinking about effie spending 24 years watching haymitch completely fall apart. effie, who met haymitch by accident, who knows exactly what kind of person he is, who sees him every year on his birthday for 24 years and each year heโs drunker, each year heโs angrier, each year heโs faster to give up. and then they get katniss and peeta. peeta, who is kind and open and understanding, who refuses to give up on haymitch. and katniss, who is so much like haymitch at 16 that it hurts. and over the few days theyโre together, effie watches haymitch come back to life. watches him try. watches him have hope. and then they get to keep not one but both of those kids. they get to come home. and then, less then a year later, effie pulls haymitchโs name at the reaping.
