ivysnowflake

•THG ☆ •effie trinket stan •hayffie •everlark •johanna Mason stan

[ivysnowflake]

This is the link to my Closure Hayffie Post Mockingjay fanfic on A03, sharing it incase anybody needs help keeping track of the chapters ik the Tumblr format might be complicated.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/85159886/chapters/224868396

[ivysnowflake]

Closure- A post Mockingjay Hayffie Story. Part 3

Part 3- Come Back, Be Here

This chapter has been a long time coming. I hope you like it.

Trigger warnings for this story: mentions of s3lf harm, suicidal ideation, occasional mentions of alcoholism and implied drug misuse.

For the link to this story on my a03 check my pinned post!

. . .

Haymitch Pov

The hallway was cold and sterile. In between screaming patients there was dead silence. It seemed to either be chaos or an eerie quietness in this place. Haymitch couldn’t believe that someone like Effie was here. Haymitch couldn’t imagine an Effie without all the dramatics. She was the one always put together. He couldn’t imagine her to be someone to fall apart. But if he learned anything, it would be that war has a funny way of making someone unrecognizable. Haymitch was shocked that he actually took the trip all the way here. But over this past week he had this underlying feeling that he should just go to the hospital. This is what you do when you’ve known someone for a while, you visit them, but this wasn’t a typical friend. “Friend” felt like too warm of a word to describe their relationship, but calling her a stranger wasn’t fitting either. Effie and Haymitch were somewhere in the middle.

“You can wait here.” A nurse stated plainly. 

Haymitch nodded simply.

When Haymitch thought about Effie he thought many things. Ignorant, a little self involved, dramatic and aloof, but he couldn’t disregard how much Effie looked after him. Even when they were behind closed doors she’d keep an eye on him. He couldn’t fail to remember how sometimes there seemed to be genuine concern for him. Of course he never thanked her. He was too inebriated to give any forms of acknowledgment to her, but it didn’t go without notice. It seemed natural to at least show up for her.

It must have been at least ten minutes or so before finally he heard keys rattling in the door. When the door opened a sickly looking woman stepped in.  Her hair was shaved leaving her practically bald with some fuzz from hair just starting to grow. She was wearing some white gown that all the patients he’d seen in the hallway also wore. The woman looked like a scared deer stumbling out in front of a car. She held her head low and her arms crossed. When she raised her head Haymitch caught a glimpse of her eyes. He recognized her immediately. His heart sank. This frail woman was Effie. The door closed behind her. Effie sat down in the chair across from Haymitch and offered a small, weak smile. 

“You look worse than usual.” Haymitch joked with a chuckle. 

Effie offered a faint chuckle in return. 

“You’re more insufferable than usual.” Effie muttered. 

Haymitch took notice of her softer tone of voice. She spoke as if she was exhausted. 

“I heard about the drugs, Effie. No need for me to sugarcoat it and pretend we don’t know why I’m here.” 

“I know Prosperina wrote to you. She’s completely blown everything out of proportion.”

“Sure.” 

“Don’t do that.” Effie scoffed.

“Don’t do what?”

“Act like I’m being dishonest. That’s what everyone here does when I explain that really I am completely fine.” 

“I didn’t know completely fine people tried to kill themselves.” 

“That’s not what happened.” 

“Okay so tell me exactly what happened?”

“Haymitch, I don’t owe you an explanation. You don’t get to pop up out of nowhere and demand for me to tell you every little detail of my life.” Suddenly the quiet Effie had a little kick to her voice.

“I’m here, the least you can do is tell me what happened.”

“You only came because Prosie asked you too. For months you didn’t send a letter, didn’t pick up the phone.”

“Effie.”

“Well, it’s the truth, Haymitch. You don’t care.” Haymitch picked up the fact that Effie offended for some reason. But they never talked outside of the games. Why was there some expectation for him to call.

“It’s not like I forgot you or something, Effie. We’ve all been dealing the best way we can. So no, I didn’t pick up the phone, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you. But you have family here. I didn't think you needed me to call you up.”

“So why are you even here?”

“I don’t know. Because it was the right thing to do.” 

“Well, I’m nobody's responsibility. You can go home now. There’s no reason for you to check in on me.” 

“Effie, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help.” 

“If you want to help me, get me out of here.” Effie softened her expression. “Please, Haymitch. This place is just making things worse, they aren’t even trying to help me, they just force me to comply with their rules and force me to do things I don’t want to do. I need to get out of here.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? You’re here because you can’t be trusted alone. I’m sorry, it's the harsh truth, Effie.” 

“I think there are more important people to worry about than me. It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I wish people would focus on people who deserve sympathy and stop trying to help me!” Effie sighed. “If you want to help, just get me out of here.” 

Without warning some nurse practically busted into the room.

“Times up, Ms Trinket. You have group therapy now.” The man exclaimed. 

Effie eyes met Haymitch’s. Pleading without any words escaping her lips.

“Goodbye.” Haymitch muttered as the nurse led a defeated Effie away. 

But through the glass in the door Haymitch could see one last glance from Effie. This time her eyes had an effect on him. He didn’t see some snobby pretentious escort, he saw a woman who just wanted to escape. 

Haymitch knew he had to at least attempt to get her out of here. But, what happened then? He couldn’t just send her back to her apartment alone. Something told him to bring her back with him. That she shouldn’t be alone. As much as Haymitch convinced himself he wasn’t going to worry too much about her, he couldn’t fight his mind. He couldn’t just shove her into the past. Reluctantly, he decided what he would do. He’d fight to get her out and then take her back to 12 with him. But from there, he had no clue what he would do with her. 

[ivysnowflake]

For anybody interested in/ reading my Effie Trinket x Haymitch Abernathy fanfic, (Closure a post mockingjay story) it is still being continued! There is some delays because I've been super busy (i say to the 4 ppl who actuslly read this thing lol) but there will be another chapter by the end of the week and it should be good bc haymitch and effie finally reconnect!

here's the link to it on A03 btw

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[contentedly-talentless]

"We want complex, flawed female characters!"

Oh please, you couldn't even handle her.

[effieotto]

Effie was canonically the most human (games related) person in the entire Capitol, and i don’t think we give her enough credit for that.

When the Quell was announced, the Capitol filled with tears. People cried, fainted and shouted so that everyone could see how they felt about the unfairness of it all, while still gathering to bet and cheer for the Games just like they did in any other year. Meanwhile, Effie refused to react at all -in the books, when the prep team had no problem in showing how sad they were for having to watch Katniss and Peeta going back to the Arena, with no real sympathy whatsoever for her as a human being, Effie maintained composed into her professional persona throughout the whole week of preparation, hiding her feelings behind her Escort mask of false cheerfulness and pragmatic detachment. Although she showed up for breakfast with red eyes and a puff face from crying herself to sleep, she always left the room when she felt truly emotional, not enabling anyone the privilege to witness her tears. Unlike the others, her sadness was real. Her feelings were genuine, and she would not allow other people to trivialize her pain by turning it into a dramatic display

In the movies, when Katniss was getting ready for her interview in the backstage, she asked Haymitch if anyone was buying Cashmere’s act, and he pointed to all the other Escorts and Prep teams sobbing in front of the Tv. Effie was also there, but she wasn’t crying. She clapped instead and said “she is really good” -because she’s well aware it was all an act!

So yeah, Effie might had been a dramatic character from the beginning, wining and complaining about frivolous things while kids were literally being slaughtered, but the feelings she wasn’t fabricating for her Escort persona were powerfully real. She cared, and loved, and grieved with such strength and honesty that she only did it in the privacy of her own heart. She was not a rebel, her actions were not guided by a greater purpose. She wasn’t trying to play with the odds or foment a rebellion…all she ever wanted was for her Victors to get the greatest life they could get. Her actions were motivated by love -pure and genuine care for her children…

and this is the most human thing she could do

[ivysnowflake]

Closure- A post Mockinjay hayffie story

Part 2-  Nothing New

Refer to my blog for the first part! Also feel free to comment any feedback is helpful!

Trigger warnings: mention of accidental drug misuse

1 month later

Prosie had let herself into Effie's apartment with her spare key when there was no answer to the door. Prosie found herself checking on Effie more and more these days. Not that Effie wanted her too, but because Prosie was becoming increasingly worried. Effie seemed to be getting worse instead of better with time. Oftentimes during conversations she had this distant look in her eyes. Oftentimes she was obviously zoning out. She was never fully present, something was always on her mind. 

Prosie couldn’t be the person Effie needed 24/7 as usually checked on her elder sister every other day because she had responsibilities back home. Effie refused to let her have someone watch her. She’d get agitated whenever Prosie mentioned hiring a caretaker for her. 

When Prosie walked into Effie’s apartment today it was quieter than usual. Effie had impeccable hearing so the no response was jarring. Maybe she left the house today? Prosie thought that unlikely because she never seemed to leave the house these days. Her heart started to race. She was panicking. Something was off. It was too quiet. Prosie walked through the home until she reached Effie's bedroom door. She listened in for snoring, but when she didn’t hear anything she became more concerned. Opening the door she saw Effie laid out on her bed. She ran over to her. 

“Effie.” Prosie waited for a response. When she didn’t get one she lightly shook her. When that didn’t work she shook her more intensely to no avail. “Effie! Wake up.” 

Prosie began to freak out. Time seemed to stop. She stumbled over to the phone and dialed emergency services. 

“Hello, this is Prosperina Trinket-Cellio.” Prosperina tried to stop her voice from shaking.” I'm at 45 Sunset Blvd in apartment seventeen.” She told them the wrong building accidentally while rushing her words. “I meant 46 Sunset Blvd, sorry. I have just found my sister unconscious! Please get someone over here now!” 

.  .   .  

In the minutes after her call to the police it felt like time moved slowly. She didn’t know what to do other than maybe check for a pulse. Holding Effie's wrist she didn’t feel anything. She couldn’t hold the tears that trickled from her eyes. She then felt something that seemed like a pulse. It wasn’t like a normal pulse. It seemed slower, spaced out. She didn’t know if she was imagining things or not. If she was just feeling what she wanted to feel. Her heart dropped. She couldn’t let herself think that the worst thing had just happened to her beloved sister. She blamed herself for not checking in more. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if she had gotten her help to begin with instead of letting Effie make the decision for herself. Prosie tried to compose herself but her hands were still shaking and she couldn’t control her tears. 

Prosie remembered help was on the way and quickly unlocked the front door before rushing back to her sister's side. 

“Please Effie, you have to be okay. Stay with me. Stay with me! I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me please.” cried a helpless Prosie.

.  .  .  

Effie heard beeping sounds coming from the monitor to her left. She tried opening her eyes. The fluorescent lights make that a painful experience for her. She realized where she was. “Oh no.” she thought to herself. She tried to remember what happened. All she could think about though was the uncomfortable tube she felt in her esophagus. She coughed a few times. She thought she was choking or something. She was panicking. Trying to sit up and get the cord out. Before she knew it a nurse had run into her room. 

“Ms. Trinket, please calm down. I can take this tube out as soon as you do.” The nurse touched Effie’s shoulder. Hoping she would relax. 

Effie tried her best to calm down. The nurse got her to relax and Effie just laid her head on her pillow. She wondered what had happened to her, but she had an idea. She realized that if she was in the hospital someone would have had to have found her unconscious. It was an uncomfortable feeling when she realized who that might have been. Prosie.  She thought of how scared she must have been. She immediately felt a wave of guilt rush over her.

“Ms. Trinket, I will be right back with something for you to drink and a bite to eat. You must be thirsty.” The nurse said while making her way to the door. 

“How long was I out for?” Effie barely was able to make out her words. Her throat was dry and her voice scratchy. 

“Two days.” The nurse replied before walking out the door. 

“Oh hell.” Effie mumbled. 

.  .  .  

Prosie had made it back to the hospital in less than 30 minutes. She had been sleeping in a hotel so she would be close to Effie. Most of the train systems were delayed. After the war so many things seemed to run slower. The Capitol didn’t look like the Capitol so much anymore. They were still doing clean up and because of the crews and construction sites everywhere it seemed to take longer to get from place to place. 

Prosie felt relieved. Relieved in knowing that Effie was awake. This could mean she was going to be okay. Even when the doctors told her that her sister was stable she couldn’t calm down until she was sure. Until Effie woke up. She raced to the hospital. 

Racing up the stairs she had almost rolled her ankle in the attempt to get to her sister. 

“She’s in there.” A friendly nurse said recognizing Prosie’s short maroon hair. 

“Thank you.” 

Prosie rushed in the door. 

“Effie! Effie, are you okay?” 

“I’m perfectly alright, thank you, You don’t need to worry about me.” Effie responded, sounding less convincing than usual. 

“No, don’t give me that. I found you unconscious with a glass of wine by your bed and your medications right next to it.” Prosie started to get upset again. “Did you do it on purpose?” 

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t dare.” 

Prosie didn’t believe her for one second. Effie wasn’t exactly lying. She didn’t intend to hurt herself, she was just being careless. That was somehow worse. That she didn’t care enough to be concerned with her safety. 

“Well, I hope you understand I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”

“Prosie, what do you mean by that?” 

“I am going to send you to a place where you can be helped. More than I can help you by myself.” 

“No! Prosie, that is not necessary.” 

“Oh, but it is. I’m sorry, but at the same time I’m not. I can’t let the same thing happen to you again. And then have worse consequences next time. Ones that can't be solved with a stay at the hospital.” 

Effie couldn’t think of what to say to smooth things over. She realized she’d have to accept her fate. 

“Do you know how much you scared me? How much you scared everyone.” 

“Everyone? You didn’t make this a big deal? Did you?” 

“It is a big deal, Euphemia. I wrote a letter to Fulvia and Octavia letting them know what happened. Those flowers over there are from them.” 

Effie felt so embarrassed. Like she had just concerned everyone who cared about her. Everybody already has their own stuff going on, she didn’t want to add anything else to anyone's plate. 

“I also sent a letter to Haymitch. There’s no telling when he will get it though with how slow everything's moving now.” 

“Are you serious Prosie? You didn’t even think to ask me before telling my business to the whole world. Haymitch did not need to know this.” 

“How could I have asked you? You were too busy hurting yourself.” 

Effie scoffed. She couldn’t help but be frustrated. She realized that Prosie was concerned, but now things were worse because too many people are concerned now. She didn’t feel like she should have anybody worried about her. There were people who deserved their empathy more than her.

.  .  .  

Effie was released the next day and sent to a mental health facility that could keep a closer eye on her. 

In the few weeks that she was there she felt like a bird in a cage. She was certain she didn’t belong there and somehow this worsened whatever emotions she had been feeling already. She knew it was wrong but she purposefully made herself a pain in the ass to everyone who worked there. She was demanding and rude hoping they’d let her leave because of that. Or that she’d be kicked out. It never worked. 

She recalled a time where she refused to go to therapy. This did nothing but frustrate everyone. She figured they’d keep her there longer out of spite of her bad behavior. She was used to having people respect her, but here she was nothing but a patient. She started to feel more like a patient than a person. She couldn’t even recognize herself anymore.

Effie sat with her head in her hands on the uncomfortable white bed they had put her in. The room was as cold and entrapping as the rest of the building. She could hear three knocks at the door. 

“Come in.” She said, giving up the rude act. She just accepted this is where she’d be for the foreseeable future. 

“You have a visitor Ms.Trinket.” said one of the nurses. 

“Who?” 

“A Mr. Abernathy.” 

[effieotto]

when Haymitch says that Proserpina wasn’t a bad person, but just extremely clueless, he backs his argument by saying that she wasn’t evil, she just had a lot of things to unlearn. which is a funny choice of words, cause while Katniss see her team as dumb kiddos, who couldn’t know any better cause they simply didn’t have the brains to do so, Haymitch doesn’t see their problem as a lack of education. In fact, by saying she had a lot of things to unlearn, instead of saying that she wasn’t very intelligent or that she needed to learn better, he is subtly recognizing that the crux of the problem is not necessarily the quality of the education or how much capable those people were to absorb it, but how biased their system was in stimulating the critical process of their children. As far as we known, the Capitol’s strategy was to corrupt their minds with the strongest method of brainwashing: systematic Information control. They held unlimi-ted power of how further their children could go in terms of knowledge. they manipulated the truth, made up scenarios and changed the narrative so they could force them into unnoticed submission.

Intelectual control is the best way to make sure your people won’t start questioning your methods, cause as long as they don’t know any different, they don’t have anything to compare you to. and if you can hold the power of how much of the reality they know, you can easily control their natural desire for change…

and saying they are like that because they are child-like dumb is pushing them way too shallow into the conversation. the point of the capitol isn’t the lack of education. the real problem is how much their academic influence aren’t used as a tool of ideolo-gical control. the smartest kid at school will still look up at the games as a blessing, because snow’s intention was to efficiently erase the reality off their brains so they could work in his favor. so as long as you don’t have a reason to think out of the ordinary, due to some specific experience, or has the means and desire to educate yourself against what the common sense says, you won’t go any further…

and it’s fun cause most of those people wouldn’t even try to go out of the box, because that system was comfortable for them. if your choice is either to be starved in a war or to be comfy with your family in your three stores mansion, eating shrimps and going to parties in your fancy clothes at weekends, and the price for it is just to watch, for a week every year, twenty-four unknown children sacrificing themselves for the cause (which most of the people in the capitol believed to be a privilege to them, since that was the propaganda the tributes had to sell during interviews —which is another can of worms i am not going to open now), why would you want it to end? if all the government asks you in exchange for your protection is to be in line and don’t let your mind wonder to uncomfortable thoughts you didn’t even want to visit anyway, why would you? that’s the world you’ve been living on since ever, you don’t know anything else. in school they teach you that this is the only normal and you don’t have anything else saying it isn’t, so why would you think that way? at home your mom and dad tells you the games are fun, so why wouldn’t you think they’re fun? should you feel bad just because you were lucky to be born in the capitol? that’s not your fault, that’s just what it is. if the districts choose to revolt years ago and then lost the war because of it, that’s their fault, not yours

As Katniss says herself:

“In fact, all three are so readily respectful and nice to my mother that I feel bad about how I go around feeling so superior to them. Who knows who I would be or what I would talk about if I'd been raised in the Capitol? Maybe my biggest regret would be having feathered costumes at my birthday party, too” Catching fire, page 46

my question is, in this line of responsibility, where the submission ends and the oppression begins? if we can’t blame them for the way they think, be-cause of how much knowledge they were granted by snow’s tendency of masking the reality, can we blame them for not realizing sooner that it was wrong? and not being to blame for the ideals that had been violently carved into their scowls, does exonerate them from everything they did?

i don’t know, those people are just so interesting

[and to be clear, i am not talking about the high classes of the capitol. it’s implied that those who’d access to real information, either from somehow being related to politics or for fitting the category of sponsors who were more or less involved in the underground outcome for the victors, are part of a limited range of people! the majority of the capitol, though still extremely problematic, weren’t granted a close view to the backstage, thus most of their knowledge about it came exclusively through Snow and his controlled, manipulated narratives]

[artsydoll322]

Drawings I’ve made while listening to the hunger games audiobook.

[peaonfire]

During ceremonies, we are solemn and respectful but always linked together, by our hands, our arms. At dinners, we are borderline delirious in our love for each other. We kiss, we dance, we get caught trying to sneak away to be alone.

Happy (very late🫢) Birthday dear @dandelionsunset1210!!! It's such an honour to call you my friend and to get to experience your wit and your humour! You truly are such a delight to talk to <3

(Obviously they're holding hands under the table)

[ivysnowflake]

Closure- a post Mockingjay Hayffie story.

*Spoilers for the original Hunger Games trilogy and light spoilers for SOTR. *

trigger warnings- rare mentions of s3lf-h4rm and alcoholism. Proceed with caution.

Part 1

Effie had just made it back to her Capitol apartment. But she wasn’t the same hope filled Effie who had bought this apartment herself after becoming an escort for the games. The Effie who walked into her apartment today was a changed Effie. After the torture she indured in the Capitol for answers on her knowledge of everything about the rebellion, she was visibly shaken and thinner. She had been rescued along with all the other captured Capitol citizens after the war and escorted to her home. The pastel, extravagant apartment suddenly felt nothing like the cold shell of a person coming back to it. 

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with herself now. She couldn’t shake this feeling of discomfort and anxiety. Her eyes had been opened to the horrors of the Capitol far too late. Now all that was left was a woman filled with guilt and regret. A woman who looked around and didn’t feel a community around her. Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch all went back to their home in District 12, and she went back to her “home”. Over these past few years they had felt like more than just victors and her tributes. They were her family. 

She put her pink bag on her living room couch and walked into her room. She hadn’t seen this room in months. She was so exhausted. The kind of tiredness that probably couldn’t be solved by a nap, but all she wanted to do was sleep. From her stainless steel pristine appearing kitchen she grabbed a glass of water and her pills from her bag. The pills she had acquired to help her sleep. Sedatives. It was going to take about half an hour for them to reach her system and work “its magic” as she would say. She looked in her cabinets for some snacks that hadn’t yet expired. She hadn’t eaten much after she was taken by the Capitol. She was malnourished and shrunk into practically nothing after the months spent in captivity. 

And in minutes, Effie was asleep. Peacefully… at least for a little while. Sometime in the early morning she woke up frightened. Her face pale and her heart racing. She looked at her fuzzy pink alarm clock. 3:23. She tried to put herself back to bed, but all she could see was flashes of screaming children worried for their lives. It was how the Capitol tortured her. But the thing that kept her up at night was the guilt. The guilt she had for not recognizing how wrong the system was. The guilt of regretfully blindly believing what she grew up being taught. That the hunger games existed for the greater good. 

Effie never took pleasure in the gruesome games. In fact, sometimes– most times she was brought to tears when her tributes were killed in the games. But, she excused it because she honestly believed that somehow this was for some greater good. It was seemingly what everyone believed, but after everything that happened. 

Everything she’s seen in the past year, the veil of fantasy has been unraveled revealing that maybe, just maybe, all those tribute deaths were just plain evil. Not a sacrifice, but meaningless murder. The thought made her recoil. Because what did that make her? She pulled the names from the bowl. She picked with her own hands which tributes would be sent to their deaths. Pulled away from their friends and family. Effie could feel the little food in her system making its way up her esophagus. She rushed to the bathroom and kneeled over her toilet.  

.  .  .  

Effie knew it was morning by the light peering through her giant floorlength windows. She hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep since she woke up earlier on. All she could do was lay down and think about everything. She thought about how she regretted not realizing what was wrong before it was too late. She was sick thinking about some of the faces and personalities of past tributes. Past children. She wondered about Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch. She doubted they would want to see her, but she couldn’t help but be proud of everything they did during the war. 

Their strength and bravery was remarkable especially considering their age and everything they’ve gone through. She imagined they must be finding their footing again in District 12. She didn’t know if she should send them a letter. Something to show that she cared about them. She wondered if they would even want to hear from her. If they had been silently hating her this whole time. Hell, she hated herself too. She thought maybe she should just let them go. Let them find whatever happiness they could. She hoped they could find some peace in the aftermath. Some calm after the storm. 

.  .  .  

Effie didn’t spend the past two days doing much, in fact she did everything she could to feel as little as possible. She wasn’t much of a drinker but in the past two days she had consumed 4 bottles of rosé. Her favorite. She worried about the effects of taking sleeping pills and alcohol. She wondered if she was taking them too close together. Dangerously close together. She knew it was dangerous, she just couldn’t find a reason to care. 

Prosie, her younger sister, her beloved sister, had sent her numerous voicemails. All basically asking if she was okay and that she hoped everything was going well. Effie couldn’t bring herself to reply, in fact she couldn’t bring herself to move from her sofa. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Effie had a feeling she already knew who it was. It was Prosie, of course. Effie opened the door and gave as much as a smile to Prosie as possible. Her younger sister, looking put together even after all the tragedy, was noticeably less colorful. She usually favored bright colors, but she was wearing a more toned down brown color.

 Effie noticed when looking out the window that the fashion had changed in the weeks after and during the end of the war. She thought back to when she was in captivity and in a small window she could see the world start to lose color. She thought it was interesting how fashion truly reflected what was going on in the world.  People in the capital wore less flamboyant outfits for something noticeably subtler. She didn’t blame them. 

Effie gestured towards the sofa. Signaling that Prosie was free to walk through the door. Prosie picked up on how the apartment was slightly more messy than the type A Effie trinket usually allowed it to be. Prosie could see the difference in Effie, how she looked void of who she used to be. She understood why, but she wondered what the hell happened to her? And was it worse than what she thought? 

“I brought you this!” Prose exclaimed. It was a basket filled with some fruits and vegetables as well as a bottle of wine. Effie assumed it was from her personal garden. She tried her best to give a warm smile. 

“Thanks, Prosie. I really appreciate it.” Effie replied in a rather monotone voice. A stark contrast from the usual high pitched voice the woman usually sported. 

“How are you?” Prosie asked, not really knowing how to respond to Effie’s unusual mood. She was usually the one being comforted rather than the comforter. Prosie felt guilty not knowing how to respond and help her. 

“I'm okay. How is Jonah and the kids?” Effie asked quickly, changing the subject in the conversation. 

“They’re a little shaken, but they’re alright for the most part.” Prosie responded. She knew that if her sister wasn’t ready to open up about something she wouldn’t. “Effie, you know you can talk to me right? And if there was something you needed to talk about you could always come to me?” 

“Yes, Prosie. Please don’t concern yourself with me. You have a family to worry about. I’m managing just fine.” 

The half full glass of wine on the table at 9 in the morning begged to differ. 

“But Effie, you don’t even look like yourself.” 

“Ouch. I look fine. I just need to shower and put on some fresh clothes. I was just about to do that before you came to my door at the crack of dawn.” Effie said rather dramatically. But, really she was starting to feel like this conversation with her sister would never end and in all honesty Effie didn’t want to talk about the situation. Not right now. 

“Oh please, you just don’t want to tell me what’s wrong. I know that, but unfortunately I am worried. Deeply worried, Effie. So, I made a decision.” 

 Effie had fear in her eyes. “Oh, no. Prosie what did you do?” 

“I scheduled you for an appointment with Zeckle Humberg. One of the top psychologists in the Capitol.” 

“Prosie! I really don’t need you to do anything for me.”

“Effie, please just talk to the guy. I think you should be talking to someone, even if it’s not me.” 

Effie considered that maybe her sister had a point. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, but she had a feeling Prosie wasn’t going to let this go if she didn’t attend this appointment. So, she caved. 

“Alright, alright. I will talk to him, but from now on I don’t need you to intervene. I am okay. I promise.” Effie said, hoping to be able to take a little control of the situation in which she already felt powerless. 

“Also I brought you this.” Prosie pulled a stack of pictures out of her purple leather handbag. “I had them printed for you before the war. I just hadn’t had the chance to give them to you.” 

“Thank you, Prosie. Truly.” Effie had forgotten all about the pictures she had asked Prosie to print. She wasn’t even sure exactly which photos she had asked her to print out, but regardless she was thankful. She appreciated Prosie checking in on her, she just didn’t know how to accept help. She was always the helper. 

.  .  .  

The two women had talked for another hour or two before Prosie left to go back home to her family which lived about 2 hours away from Effie in the less urban part of the Capitol. Effie lived in the city in a highrise apartment, but it made sense for Prosie to live in a more suburban area. Effie, was now a middle aged woman who formerly had a thriving career and fashionable life in the city, while Prosie had married earlier on and had children retiring from the busy work she had done before settling down. 

After taking a hot shower and putting on some fresher clothes Effie examined the pictures. It was like looking through memories. She had seen some pictures of her and some of her friends on top of the pile of photos and then she found a picture that was probably taken about 15 years ago of a younger man. Haymitch. The next picture was a photo she had taken of Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta on the victory tour of the 74th games having dinner in District 12. Her heart rushed with feelings she thought she had suppressed. Not loud over the top feelings but more subtle ones of genuine care for her people. Specifically the man she had met every year for 25 years. Haymitch Abernathy. 

[eymurn]

you owe me nothing. i did it out of love.

[ivysnowflake]

Closure- a post Mockingjay Hayffie story.

*Spoilers for the original Hunger Games trilogy and light spoilers for SOTR. *

trigger warnings- rare mentions of alcoholism. Implied drug misuse Proceed with caution.

Part 1

Effie had just made it back to her Capitol apartment. But she wasn’t the same hope filled Effie who had bought this apartment herself after becoming an escort for the games. The Effie who walked into her apartment today was a changed Effie. After the torture she indured in the Capitol for answers on her knowledge of everything about the rebellion, she was visibly shaken and thinner. She had been rescued along with all the other captured Capitol citizens after the war and escorted to her home. The pastel, extravagant apartment suddenly felt nothing like the cold shell of a person coming back to it. 

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with herself now. She couldn’t shake this feeling of discomfort and anxiety. Her eyes had been opened to the horrors of the Capitol far too late. Now all that was left was a woman filled with guilt and regret. A woman who looked around and didn’t feel a community around her. Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch all went back to their home in District 12, and she went back to her “home”. Over these past few years they had felt like more than just victors and her tributes. They were her family. 

She put her pink bag on her living room couch and walked into her room. She hadn’t seen this room in months. She was so exhausted. The kind of tiredness that probably couldn’t be solved by a nap, but all she wanted to do was sleep. From her stainless steel pristine appearing kitchen she grabbed a glass of water and her pills from her bag. The pills she had acquired to help her sleep. Sedatives. It was going to take about half an hour for them to reach her system and work “its magic” as she would say. She looked in her cabinets for some snacks that hadn’t yet expired. She hadn’t eaten much after she was taken by the Capitol. She was malnourished and shrunk into practically nothing after the months spent in captivity. 

And in minutes, Effie was asleep. Peacefully… at least for a little while. Sometime in the early morning she woke up frightened. Her face pale and her heart racing. She looked at her fuzzy pink alarm clock. 3:23. She tried to put herself back to bed, but all she could see was flashes of screaming children worried for their lives. It was how the Capitol tortured her. But the thing that kept her up at night was the guilt. The guilt she had for not recognizing how wrong the system was. The guilt of regretfully blindly believing what she grew up being taught. That the hunger games existed for the greater good. 

Effie never took pleasure in the gruesome games. In fact, sometimes– most times she was brought to tears when her tributes were killed in the games. But, she excused it because she honestly believed that somehow this was for some greater good. It was seemingly what everyone believed, but after everything that happened. 

Everything she’s seen in the past year, the veil of fantasy has been unraveled revealing that maybe, just maybe, all those tribute deaths were just plain evil. Not a sacrifice, but meaningless murder. The thought made her recoil. Because what did that make her? She pulled the names from the bowl. She picked with her own hands which tributes would be sent to their deaths. Pulled away from their friends and family. Effie could feel the little food in her system making its way up her esophagus. She rushed to the bathroom and kneeled over her toilet.  

.  .  .  

Effie knew it was morning by the light peering through her giant floorlength windows. She hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep since she woke up earlier on. All she could do was lay down and think about everything. She thought about how she regretted not realizing what was wrong before it was too late. She was sick thinking about some of the faces and personalities of past tributes. Past children. She wondered about Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch. She doubted they would want to see her, but she couldn’t help but be proud of everything they did during the war. 

Their strength and bravery was remarkable especially considering their age and everything they’ve gone through. She imagined they must be finding their footing again in District 12. She didn’t know if she should send them a letter. Something to show that she cared about them. She wondered if they would even want to hear from her. If they had been silently hating her this whole time. Hell, she hated herself too. She thought maybe she should just let them go. Let them find whatever happiness they could. She hoped they could find some peace in the aftermath. Some calm after the storm. 

.  .  .  

Effie didn’t spend the past two days doing much, in fact she did everything she could to feel as little as possible. She wasn’t much of a drinker but in the past two days she had consumed 4 bottles of rosé. Her favorite. She worried about the effects of taking sleeping pills and alcohol. She wondered if she was taking them too close together. Dangerously close together. She knew it was dangerous, she just couldn’t find a reason to care. 

Prosie, her younger sister, her beloved sister, had sent her numerous voicemails. All basically asking if she was okay and that she hoped everything was going well. Effie couldn’t bring herself to reply, in fact she couldn’t bring herself to move from her sofa. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Effie had a feeling she already knew who it was. It was Prosie, of course. Effie opened the door and gave as much as a smile to Prosie as possible. Her younger sister, looking put together even after all the tragedy, was noticeably less colorful. She usually favored bright colors, but she was wearing a more toned down brown color.

 Effie noticed when looking out the window that the fashion had changed in the weeks after and during the end of the war. She thought back to when she was in captivity and in a small window she could see the world start to lose color. She thought it was interesting how fashion truly reflected what was going on in the world.  People in the capital wore less flamboyant outfits for something noticeably subtler. She didn’t blame them. 

Effie gestured towards the sofa. Signaling that Prosie was free to walk through the door. Prosie picked up on how the apartment was slightly more messy than the type A Effie trinket usually allowed it to be. Prosie could see the difference in Effie, how she looked void of who she used to be. She understood why, but she wondered what the hell happened to her? And was it worse than what she thought? 

“I brought you this!” Prose exclaimed. It was a basket filled with some fruits and vegetables as well as a bottle of wine. Effie assumed it was from her personal garden. She tried her best to give a warm smile. 

“Thanks, Prosie. I really appreciate it.” Effie replied in a rather monotone voice. A stark contrast from the usual high pitched voice the woman usually sported. 

“How are you?” Prosie asked, not really knowing how to respond to Effie’s unusual mood. She was usually the one being comforted rather than the comforter. Prosie felt guilty not knowing how to respond and help her. 

“I'm okay. How is Jonah and the kids?” Effie asked quickly, changing the subject in the conversation. 

“They’re a little shaken, but they’re alright for the most part.” Prosie responded. She knew that if her sister wasn’t ready to open up about something she wouldn’t. “Effie, you know you can talk to me right? And if there was something you needed to talk about you could always come to me?” 

“Yes, Prosie. Please don’t concern yourself with me. You have a family to worry about. I’m managing just fine.” 

The half full glass of wine on the table at 9 in the morning begged to differ. 

“But Effie, you don’t even look like yourself.” 

“Ouch. I look fine. I just need to shower and put on some fresh clothes. I was just about to do that before you came to my door at the crack of dawn.” Effie said rather dramatically. But, really she was starting to feel like this conversation with her sister would never end and in all honesty Effie didn’t want to talk about the situation. Not right now. 

“Oh please, you just don’t want to tell me what’s wrong. I know that, but unfortunately I am worried. Deeply worried, Effie. So, I made a decision.” 

 Effie had fear in her eyes. “Oh, no. Prosie what did you do?” 

“I scheduled you for an appointment with Zeckle Humberg. One of the top psychologists in the Capitol.” 

“Prosie! I really don’t need you to do anything for me.”

“Effie, please just talk to the guy. I think you should be talking to someone, even if it’s not me.” 

Effie considered that maybe her sister had a point. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, but she had a feeling Prosie wasn’t going to let this go if she didn’t attend this appointment. So, she caved. 

“Alright, alright. I will talk to him, but from now on I don’t need you to intervene. I am okay. I promise.” Effie said, hoping to be able to take a little control of the situation in which she already felt powerless. 

“Also I brought you this.” Prosie pulled a stack of pictures out of her purple leather handbag. “I had them printed for you before the war. I just hadn’t had the chance to give them to you.” 

“Thank you, Prosie. Truly.” Effie had forgotten all about the pictures she had asked Prosie to print. She wasn’t even sure exactly which photos she had asked her to print out, but regardless she was thankful. She appreciated Prosie checking in on her, she just didn’t know how to accept help. She was always the helper. 

.  .  .  

The two women had talked for another hour or two before Prosie left to go back home to her family which lived about 2 hours away from Effie in the less urban part of the Capitol. Effie lived in the city in a highrise apartment, but it made sense for Prosie to live in a more suburban area. Effie, was now a middle aged woman who formerly had a thriving career and fashionable life in the city, while Prosie had married earlier on and had children retiring from the busy work she had done before settling down. 

After taking a hot shower and putting on some fresher clothes Effie examined the pictures. It was like looking through memories. She had seen some pictures of her and some of her friends on top of the pile of photos and then she found a picture that was probably taken about 15 years ago of a younger man. Haymitch. The next picture was a photo she had taken of Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta on the victory tour of the 74th games having dinner in District 12. Her heart rushed with feelings she thought she had suppressed. Not loud over the top feelings but more subtle ones of genuine care for her people. Specifically the man she had met every year for 25 years. Haymitch Abernathy.