let me go home

............

You. Don’t. Say.

Huh, you make an ugly woman. It was to be expected though. You're a butt fuck ugly guy.

#kcswap

............

AGAIN!????@??@??!?!?

Something weird is going on.

#kcswap

So... This is what's left of twelve...

So… do we kill each other on the field and see who has the most people left, or do we force them to give up before the fighting’s even started with propaganda?

#it's the whole brain washing thing #it makes him a dick

We shouldn't be fighting at all. How do you think it's going to end? The last time they had a war, they blew the country apart. It's going to happen again.

This is a place where I feel at home || Katniss & Peeta

Katniss flinched at Peeta’s words again. Without a second thought. That had always been the worst part - death had become a part of life in the Capitol, and thousands of peoples’ blood was shed without a second thought. They were accustomed to it, muted to it, seeing it all as ‘an unfortunate thing’. None in the Capitol seemed to view it as a loss. They didn’t understand the loss of a loved one, and they never would. To them, the destruction of District Twelve was simply a tragedy.

When Peeta touched her hand, she felt like she was meant to pull away, but she didn’t. She’d gotten through to him. She’d finally gotten through to him. How far, she didn’t know, but in that moment, she felt safe.

And all she really wanted to do was hug him. To know that he was really there, and he was Peeta - but she didn’t. She resisted, for now, and settled for wrapping her fingers around his gently. Even though it’s not what they used to have, it was something. It was enough to make Katniss thing that they might be able to defeat the Capitol after all. As Beetee had once said, there’s always a flaw in the system.

"You’ll always have me," Katniss repeated, hoping it was reassuring, and hoping he could see she was telling the truth. She wasn’t going to let him go that easy. She wouldn’t leave him. He needed her as much as she needed him, because no one on God’s green earth could possibly understand what they’d gone through except for each other.

After a moments thought, she added, “And I’m glad I haven’t lost you.”

#p:feel at home #ahasghsjhg #this is a bit crappy but i hate hurting peeta

When Katniss returned the soft touch and squeezed his fingers gently, Peeta felt comforted. It had been a long time since he had felt any comfort. He was constantly stuck inside his own head, thinking that he was going crazy and mourning the things he'd lost. Right now though, he felt like things could be okay. Maybe not today, or tomorrow or maybe not even in a year but they could be. That little bit of hope was more important than anything else and he wanted to cling to it like he did Katniss's hand.

He let her words wash over him and comfort him. Their hands stayed together as Peeta tried to regain his composure. He hadn't really cried about his family's death and it had boiled over when he'd seen an apron. He should have been stronger than that, he was meant to be the strong one and this time, he wasn't. It took him a long time to form the words he wanted to say. It was difficult for him but finally, he mumbled a very quiet; "I think I lost myself."

Their little bubble of comfort was broken when one of Peeta's guards came storming through the house and into the kitchen. It only took one look before the soldier lunged for Peeta. He yelped, frightened, and held his hands up in front of his face. His thoughts caught up to what was happening and he realised, the marks on Katniss's neck. They were marks from his hands. He had tried to kill her, they were right to lock her up.

He didn't fight it when the guard pulled him to his feet and roughly pushed him over the bench. It wasn't until the apron fell from his fingers that Peeta reacted at all. He began struggling. "No, no! Let me... I need the apron! Please, please let me hold it."

It was the final thread on his sanity, it was the thing keeping him stable but now that it was gone Peeta felt like a caged animal again. Kicking out, Peeta's boot hit the knee of the soldier and he spun around to get the apron. The commotion had alerted more guards and three of them were in the house now and converging on him.

"Please." He pleaded but it was too late. All four men were on him now, pulling his arms behind his back until he cried out in pain. His next plea was quieter, more broken. He didn't want to fight it anymore. "Please. Katniss, help me."

So... This is what's left of twelve...

No, but do you want this war to continue with more deaths?

#poor cressida #she has to put up with a lot of shit

I don't want this at all. The rate we're going, we're going to decimate both sides. No one will survive.

So... This is what's left of twelve...

We need shots, but I wont film you doing your true morning if you don’t want me to.

Do you know what we aim to do with these films?

No. I don't want you to. Film what you have to but I don't agree to it.

I know what they're for. I don't care. I'm not the mockingjay.

This is a place where I feel at home || Katniss & Peeta

Katniss couldn’t accept it. The thought of death wasn’t what disturbed her, not after everything, but it was the thought of Peeta being the one behind it. Of dying and leaving Peeta with the belief that she was a monster who had been responsible for all of this. And maybe she was responsible for the terrible, horrible things that had happened to her home, to Panem, to all of them, but she was doing everything she could to fix it. If she was goign to die right now, she’d do anything for Peeta to know at least that much.

She thought about Prim. Katniss never believed in an afterlife, no matter how much easier that would have made facing the world, and she wished she believed in one now. She wished she believed that she could go to a place where she would be with Prim again. Where they could sing, cook, where she could teach Prim how to swim and maybe even shoot.

But at least Katniss could look forward to oblivion. She wouldn’t even know she was dead. She could let go of everything, she could be at peace and die knowing that the Rebellion could turn her into a martyr and Peeta into a victim. This is what the Capitol is capable of, look what they can do to people, this is why you need to fight! Just as long as they could remind Peeta of the truth. Just as long as someone watched over her mother and made sure she was okay. Just as long as Gale knew that, despite everything, they always had each other. No loose ends.

And the moment Katniss accepted this as her end, the moment she decided that this was okay, something clicked inside of Peeta, and he dropped her. She fell to the ground, not realizing her knees had grown unbearably weak, coughing and gasping for air. When she could finally breath again, she didn’t get a chance to pick herself up before Peeta was on his knees next to her. Almost ready to defend herself again, Katniss was surprised when she saw the look of distress on Peeta’s face.

Katniss wanted to do something. Put a comforting hand on his shoulder, or hug him, the way he’d done for her for longer than she deserved, but she was afraid of setting him off again. But then he let out a horrible cry, followed by words that made Katniss flinch.

Then he said her name, the way he used to.

"Peeta," she whispered, almost like it was a question. "I know. I…" She wanted to sit down and cry with him, because that’s all she’d wanted to do since the moment their hovercraft touched down in Twelve. She wanted to let it all out, because once they stepped outside, she had to put on a brave face again. But that wasn’t going to help. That’s not what Peeta needed to hear. At least, she hoped not.

"I know. But… You have…" she took a breath, wondering if this was even what he wanted to hear. But now was the time to try. "You have me, Peeta. And Haymitch. You even have Effie."

#p:feel at home #he's so broken #and sad #and ajsidfhashg

The tears continued to flow, they blinded Peeta but he knew she was there by his side. The rage he had felt had completely dissipated. Why would Katniss destroy their home? Why would she put her mother and Gale's family at risk? It didn't make sense. His father's words came to him then, "If it doesn't make sense, it's probably bull shit". Now more than ever, those words seemed to resonate with him.

He remembers that once upon a time, Johanna told him the Capitol would do everything they could do break him. They had succeeded. When they took his family, his home and his memories, they succeeded in breaking him. What did he have left? Kota was alive and well and he loved her but she didn't understand this. She couldn't understand this sort of pain.

The memories kept flooding through his mind, crashing over him and dragging more tears and wracked sobs from his body. The apron was still in his hands and he tightened his fist around it, holding it against his chest. "They killed everyone. Everyone. W - without a second thought."

He pressed his face into the apron, breathing in the smell and hating the smoke scent that tainted the sweetness. "I ..."

He stopped, not knowing what to say. If anyone could understand everything that was going on inside his brain, it was Katniss. She'd experienced everything he had, including the loss of the person you love the most. Katniss had lost Prim and he had lost his father.

Without letting himself second guess it, he slid over to Katniss and touched her hand. If they were the old Katniss and Peeta, they would have cuddled. They would have curled themselves around each other and protected themselves. But they weren't the same people they were. Peeta had just tried to kill her, he didn't deserve to hug her. "I - I'm glad I have you."

So... This is what's left of twelve...

Do… do you wanna do something, in their memory. While we’re do something for them all?

I want to mourn them without cameras on me. I want to say goodbye to my family and for it not to be used to promote this stupid war.

Does anyone have anything to drink?

You’re a hell of a lot stronger than me, that’s for damn sure.

..Okay, Peeta. But if you do, you know…. just.. uh. Let me know.

That's because I'm crazy.

I will. I'll let you know.

So... This is what's left of twelve...

Sorry. I just cant believe I’m finally able to do this. its horrible though.

You think? You're going to walk on the ashes of people I loved. Of my home and of my family.

This is a place where I feel at home || Katniss & Peeta

Katniss’ throat constricted when she touched the material. It was almost stupid. Her childhood home and every single one of her old neighbors and friends were dead and gone, but not this. This stupid piece of clothing that held one of the last happy memories in Twelve and even the flour to prove it had somehow survived. It was almost laughable, but Katniss was far, far away from laughter.

She balled her first around the apron and held it up to her nose. It smelled faintly of smoke and sugar, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head at the imagery. Tainted. Even the untouched parts of her life were tainted.

Katniss jumped at Peeta’s voice, turning around to face the only person she rarely got to see but would kill to have back. “Peeta, hey.” She smiled softly, pleased to see him looking so at peace. Maybe they were making more progress than they originally thought. Only Peeta could have blinded her better judgement like this. She dropped her hands to her side, the apron touching the floor when she did.

She was about to agree, about to start a polite conversation to try and make up for everything the Capitol had stolen from them, before Peeta’s fingers wrapped around her neck. It didn’t even take a moment for her to process that Peeta was intent on squeezing the life out of her, and she started to panic. He was squeezing too tight already for her to plead, and she began to kick at him, her fingers clawing at Peeta’s hands. But even she, as strong as she may be, was not strong enough for Peeta. Not for a man who could lift and toss a hundred pounds like it was a leaf.

"Peeta," Katniss managed to breathe. Her eyes began to water, and she knew her time was short. Maybe it was the adrenaline that told her what to do, she wasn’t sure, but she knew it was her last hope. She held up her shaking right hand that held the apron, lifting it in front of her face. "It’s — me-"

#p:feel at home #poor babies #is2g #i'm going to go sob

Rage overtook him. He literally saw red as his fingers tightened around her throat. There was no way he was going to let her get away with this. If their mockingjay was dead, the rebellion would die and no one else would lose their home and their families. Flashes of the nightmares he was plagued with blinded him from seeing what was in front of him. He saw the mutt tearing people apart. He saw her cutting at his leg until it was gone. He saw her whipping him and electrocuting him until he couldn't move, he could only shake involuntarily.

This was who had done that to him. She was why his family were dead and why his family was gone. It was her. His hands had begun to shake with the effort and the raking of her nails. The sharp kicks were barely felt. It felt like nothing could stop him now. Finally, he would finish the task he had set out to do month ago. Katniss would die. Peeta was stronger than her and he used that to his advantage. He would crush her and her screams wouldn't be heard. No one would know that she died.

The apron in front of his face startled him for a moment. The red loopy writing was familiar. A new memory flashed, one that wasn't shaky or tainted. It was clear as day. Prim had been in the kitchen, whistling some unknown tune while he and Mrs Everdeen rolled out the cookie dough. They had been baking.

Another memory flashed. He saw the smile on Katniss's face when she handed him the apron. He saw the tentative glance she gave him, like she was scared he'd hate it. He saw the way he had hugged her and teased her until she blushed, trying to get her to kiss him.

Another memory. He was in his kitchen, still wearing the apron when his father came over. Paul Mellark made a big show of leaving a slobbery kiss on his cheek. Peeta had pushed him away laughing and teased him about his drab apron.

Peeta's hands dropped and he snatched the apron from Katniss's fingers. He needed to feel that it was real. The material was rough but the smell of cookies and sugar lingered on the material. It was real. Those memories were real.

More memories started to flood his mind. They were too fast and too hurtful. Peeta fell to his knees, craddling his head in his hands as he saw every memory and every moment he had shared with his father in the bakery or his brothers when he was kids. He saw the one time his mother had shown him affection. His stomach lurched painfully. He wanted to be sick.

He clutched the apron to his chest and breathed in the familiar scent and started to cry. A broken sob ripped through him and the tears poured down his cheeks, thick and heavy. It was only then he looked up, seemingly have forgotten Katniss was there at all.

"They're dead. They're all dead. M - Katniss... I've got no one."

So... This is what's left of twelve...

#i wish i had someone on the mission who wasn't a grump

Try not to look so cheerful about it.

Does anyone have anything to drink?

..You’re a strong boy, Peeta. If.. you need someone to be there with you….

Am I? I don't feel that way anymore.

It's - it'll be okay. I'm sure they want you to film or do something. They're awfully demanding about it.

Does anyone have anything to drink?

Right. Yeah. Fine. I won’t.

Thank you. I - I don't know how I'm going to do this, Haymitch.

This is a place where I feel at home || Katniss & Peeta

Katniss knew she could have saved herself and her companions a lot of heart ache if she’d accepted the destruction of District 12 and used it as a way to encourage herself. But despite her best efforts and what she knew would have been right, she couldn’t help it. So she insisted and she insisted until they simply couldn’t say no anymore. And now that she was here, Katniss wondered why anyone in their right mind would have begged to see the ashes of what was once their home. But then, she wasn’t in her right mind. She hadn’t been in her right for a long, long time. At least, that’s what it felt like.

She tried to ignore the camera crew that was following her around, but it proved difficult. They kept asking her provocative questions, trying to get their perfect scene to show the world, but she ignored them. She allowed herself to to mourn in silence - something she hadn’t been able to do for several years. It was about time she permitted herself to do so.

Katniss wasn’t sure what she expected. She’d seen what Thirteen looked like from above, but that was Thirteen. It had been rubble since before she was born. But now that she knew there was a whole underground society, that they had been prepared and ready to counteract the problem, it was hard to even accept that as a tragedy (though it undoubtedly was).

But it was hard to see Twelve like this. Twelve may not have been the cleanest District, nor the most glamorous, but it was and always would be her home. She’d seen every other District through her Victory Tour, and though charming some may have been, she wouldn’t have traded Twelve for the world. She saw her sister grow up in Twelve. She met Gale in Twelve. She had her father in Twelve.

And now it was naught but ash. Katniss didn’t even bother going into The Hob, where she knew all she’d find was the remains of people she called friends. The first place she went was her old home, where she and her family had lived long before they moved into the Victor’s Village.

There was nothing there. The home she grew up in, the home that held all of her fondest memories, didn’t even exist. It was dust, and every day more and more of it was picked up by the wind and blown somewhere else, until one day even the ash wouldn’t be there.

Looking at it now, she could hardly remember where anything had been. If it weren’t for the stones that had been placed outside her front door, she may not have even recognized that. All of her memories were quickly becoming memories of memories, stories that would be lost to all but those who were there. And maybe her existence before the Games had been trivial and small in the grand scheme of things, but some stories, in her opinion, should not be so easily lost.

"Katniss, what are you feeling right now?" The question twisted at her stomach, and while she knew she’d agreed to being the Mockingjay and practically sold herself to this kind of material, it made her unfathomably angry. What was she feeling? What was she feeling? She turned, unable to disguise her annoyance and pain, and simply shook her head. There were no words for what she was feeling.

They informed her it was time to leave, and despite the fact that they were trying as hard as they could to do so kindly, it’s gentle nature was lost on Katniss. The walk to the Victor’s Village was silent, and she felt a grossly familiar lump forming in her throat. But she couldn’t start crying now - if she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d cry until her throat was raw, her eyes dry, and her cheeks red. She couldn’t do that now.

They reached the Victor’s Village before Peeta and his crew did, though Katniss hardly recognized it. She was shocked that it looked completely untouched, though after looking at the scene, it seemed typical. Of course the Capitol left the Victor’s Village untouched. Maybe it was a warning, or a message, or maybe even a place for future Capitol Citizens to stay when shooting footage for the future of the Games.

She ignored her crew’s protests and entered the mansion that had once been hers, surprised to find that the few personal things her mother and Prim had put up remained. Maybe they were planning on turning it into some sort of museum, she figured, disgusted. When she walked into the kitchen, Katniss was greeted by a sight that drew a small, pained noise from her throat.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, right where it must have been left, was an apron. On it the words ‘Kiss the Cook’ were printed in curvy red letters, and it was miraculously still covered in flour. Katniss had bought it for Peeta a matter of weeks before they’d been taken to the Capitol, a sort of peace offering, and he’d been wearing it every time he came over to bake with her mother and Prim. She remembered him wearing it last when teaching her mom how to make his sugar cookies, though no one could decorate them as elegantly as he.

Katniss walked towards the counter and reached out, ignoring the tremor in her hand.