PALLADIUM AND PANACHE HEADCANONS PLS BECAUSE PANACHE'S INTERVIEW WAS HILARIOUSSS!!
this forced me to think about them so thank you!
palladium & panache barker
panache always grew up idolizing palladium and wanting to follow in his footsteps. part of him also wanted to prove he was better than his older brother.
both of them were on the wrestling team growing up but panache was better.
palladium is smarter, panache is stronger. palladium identified with the lion, panache identified with the bear. palladium prefers knives, panache prefers a sword.
their family was one of the richer families in district 1 and both boy trained for the games for years before volunteering. they believed it to be a great honor.
because palladium won, panache went into the games even more overly-confident than is typical for him. he was convinced that if his brother could win, he could win easily.
palladium was also overly-confident going in to mentor his brother. he knew he’s brother was stronger and well-trained & he was sure that, as a mentor, he would excel. especially considering palladium had already mentored a victor in his short time as a mentor.
palladium hated cashmere & gloss because they were a constant reminder of what him & panache couldn’t manage to pull off.
Panache's brother, Palladium is a victor from district 1. Does it mean that he did something rebellious, like Beete, and Snow punished him by reaping his younger brother? What if the macho/dumb persona is just a cover, a mask to hide that he is terrified. What if Palladium told him to act like that, to make him unlikeable and stupid so that the Capitol cannot use him?
If anyone asked me to rank my days from best to worst, today would be a strong contender for rock bottom.
First, I failed my math test. A big, ugly 42% glared at me from the top of the paper in blood-red ink. I could practically hear my teacher sighing in disappointment as she handed it back.
Second, dodgeball. Some kid Panache with way too much aggression and an arm like a professional baseball player somehow managed to nail me right in the face. Now I had a black eye that made me look like I’d been in a street fight.
Third, lunch. I spilled spaghetti down the front of my brand new white shirt. White! Why did I even risk wearing white to school? RIP shirt. You were too young.
And fourth… the homework. Piles of it. I swear every teacher got together in a secret meeting and decided to ruin my life.
So, yeah. Today was trash.
By the time I got home, I was basically a human thundercloud. I stomped upstairs, dropped my bag onto the floor with a loud thunk, and sat down at my desk like a prisoner sentenced to homework jail.
I cracked open my history book, glared at the first question, and groaned so loud my mom yelled up the stairs:
“You sound like a dying walrus, Maysilee!”
“BECAUSE I AM ONE,” I shouted back.
I shoved my pencil at the paper and scribbled something halfheartedly. My black eye throbbed, my shirt stain mocked me from the laundry basket, and I was just about ready to fake my own death to avoid school tomorrow—
When my door creaked open.
And in walked Wyatt Callow.
My boyfriend. My personal golden retriever in human form. And the only person alive who could make me smile when I was this grumpy.
He came in holding three things: a bouquet of my favorite flowers, my favorite candy balanced precariously on top of the bouquet, and a speaker blasting Lana Del Rey. (Yes, spelled exactly like that. I checked.)
“Surprise!” he said, grinning so wide his dimples practically had their own zip code.
I blinked at him, half-annoyed, half-ready to cry. “Wyatt. What… what is this?”
“It’s called Operation Fix Maysilee’s Bad Day,” he said, plopping the flowers into my lap. “Step one: flowers. Step two: candy. Step three: Lana. Step four: profit.”
I burst out laughing despite myself. “Profit? This isn’t a business scheme!”
“Everything’s a business scheme if you believe,” he said, dead serious.
I groaned, hiding my face in the flowers so he wouldn’t see me smiling. “Ugh, you’re ridiculous.”
“Correction: I’m ridiculously amazing.”
He leaned down and kissed my cheek, right next to my black eye, and for some reason, that simple kiss made my whole chest feel warm.
“Okay,” I said, giving in. “You win. Homework can wait. What’s the plan, Callow?”
⸻
The plan, apparently, was concert outfit planning. We sprawled across my bed, laptop open, Pinterest boards up, Lana’s voice filling the room like the soundtrack of our teenage dreams.
“I’m thinking sparkles,” I said, scrolling through sequined tops. “Lots of sparkles.”
Wyatt frowned. “What about cargo shorts?”
I snapped my head toward him so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. “Excuse me?”
“Cargo shorts,” he repeated, leaning back with a smug smile. “Practical. Pockets. Stylish.”
“Wyatt. If you show up to a Lana Del Rey concert in cargo shorts, I will pretend I don’t know you.”
“You’d abandon me?” he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically.
“Yes. And I’d do it proudly.”
He grinned. “Fine, no cargo shorts. But I’m wearing my Hawaiian shirt.”
“Wyatt!”
“What? It screams summertime sadness.”
I threw a pillow at his face, and he laughed so hard he almost rolled off the bed.
⸻
After an hour of arguing about sequins versus Hawaiian shirts, we switched gears to Roblox. Specifically, Dress to Impress.
The second Wyatt logged in, I knew it was over.
“Why are you… why are you literally dressed as a hot dog?” I asked, staring at his avatar in horror.
“It’s called commitment,” he said proudly. “And I’m about to win this.”
The theme was “Red Carpet.”
Wyatt strutted out on the runway in his hot dog suit like he owned the place. Meanwhile, my avatar was rocking a long red gown, heels, and diamond earrings.
“Wyatt,” I whispered, tears of laughter in my eyes, “you look like a concession stand snack.”
“This is haute couture,” he argued, doing the little runway spin. “The judges just don’t understand me.”
The judges did not, in fact, understand him. He lost. Badly. To a sparkly fairy.
I laughed so hard I nearly fell out of my chair. “You’re actually terrible at this game.”
“I’m an artist ahead of my time,” he said solemnly.
“You’re a hot dog.”
“And yet, you still love me.”
Unfortunately, he was right.
⸻
When Roblox finally destroyed my stomach from laughing too hard, Wyatt suggested baking blondies.
Correction: I suggested baking blondies, and Wyatt insisted on “helping.”
“Wyatt, stop eating the batter!” I smacked his hand with the spatula.
“I’m taste-testing!” he said defensively, licking his finger. “You can’t rush perfection.”
“You’re going to get salmonella!”
“Worth it.”
At one point, he tried to dramatically sprinkle flour over the counter like some weird baking ritual. The result? A coughing fit and a kitchen that looked like it had been hit by a snowstorm.
“These blondies are raw!” he yelled in his best Gordon Ramsay impression, even though they weren’t even in the oven yet.
“You’re raw,” I muttered, shoving the pan in.
Somehow, despite Wyatt’s chaos, the blondies came out perfect. We ate them straight out of the pan at the counter, crumbs everywhere, Lana still crooning faintly in the background.
⸻
Eventually, it got late. Wyatt stood by the door, holding the empty candy wrapper like a trophy.
“Thanks for letting me save your day,” he said softly.
“You didn’t just save it,” I admitted. “You… made it amazing.”
He smiled, leaned down, and kissed me. It was soft, sweet, and just long enough to make my heart flip.
When he finally pulled away, I whispered, “I’m so lucky, you know that?”
“I do,” he said with a wink. “I’m awesome.”
I shoved him out the door, laughing.
⸻
After he left, I went back upstairs to my room. The flowers sat on my desk, bright and alive. The candy wrappers were scattered, and the blondie crumbs still dusted my fingers.
And I couldn’t stop smiling.
Today had started as one of the worst days of my life. But it ended as one of the best. All because of Wyatt Callow—my ridiculous, sweet, bad-at-Roblox, perfect boyfriend.
And honestly? I was so, so thankful.
Sorry I haven’t been posting on here much, I’ve been very busy with school 😭
Do any of you guys know what Silka meant when she said “I’ll tell how it was when I get home.” On page 323 of sotr? Like does she mean she is going to brag to everyone about winning the games or did she mean something different? (I literally have no clue.)
I love Clato fanfics where they’re sneaking around, because truly those are the most accurate ones. That’s a teenage boy with a smoking hot girlfriend. No room in the training center is safe.
Literally why was the force field made in the sotr arena? And why was President Snow so angry about Haymitch winning when he could have known what the force field could do? And killing people that Haymitch cares about was way way too far of a punishment.
Seriously wtf was up with Titus and the way he went complete cannibal mode? Like no hate but seriously why the hell? He probably came from a whole other demension.
tangentwithtanner
dededos
romaincrisis
kianamaiart
