oh, my little old lady murder story was her replacing the medication in her abusive husband's capsules with rat poison.
"back in the day, our grandmothers worked on their marriages and didn't get divorced!" nah, friend, they COULDN'T get a divorce so sometimes they killed their fuckin husbands. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
My college was next to an assisted living facility and one time we went over there to draw people’s portraits so we could get practice drawing older people. The lady I was drawing idly told me that she "dealt quite handily with her first husband” while making a stabbing gesture. Five minutes later she requested I make sure not to draw her double chin. I honored that request.
So when I was a child my grandmother told all these great stories about growing up in the Alaskan wilderness. Amazing bad ass stories about her and my great-grandmother. I recently asked my mom why my great-grandmother moved from Texas to Alaska in the first place. Turns out my Great-grandfather was abusive to my great grandmother for years and she lived with that until the first time he hit my grandmother, who was like three at the time, my great-grandmother got him very drunk and beat him to death then moved to Alaska to hide from the cops.
There's this local family owned restaurant near me that makes the best fucking chicken tenders I've had in my life and I desperately need to know the recipe in case I move away but its a secret family recipe and I'm this 👌🏽 close to asking if they have a single adult son so I can marry in to the family just for these fucking chicken tenders. Anyway there's a possible fake marriage fanfic plot for you
Seven years ago today (April 2016), my sister finally convinced me to chop my hair to donate to be made into wigs for kids with cancer. This was shortly after getting out of a almost three year toxic relationship with an abusive asshole who told me he hated how my hair looked short. It was the start of doing a bunch of things for myself that I loved that he never approved of.
Three years after that (July 2019), my sister told me she was donating again, and I enthusiastically agreed. I was nervous because I was dating someone new and wasn’t sure how he would react. He said something along the lines of, it’s your hair, it doesn’t really matter what I think but I’m sure it will look great.
I’m not sure why this made me so emotional to think about when it popped up in my Timehop memories today. But I’m sitting here doing work, while the boy from 2019 is sitting next to me playing video games, and I can’t help but be so grateful that I finally found a good one.
(He also doesn’t care if I do/don’t wear makeup, when I get more piercings, or if I mention all the tattoos I want in the future. It seems like the bare minimum, but being in a healthy relationship after being in such an unhealthy one, is literally life changing.)
What I would want Peeta to say and do to me if I was Katniss, is how I think this deserves to be summed up.
Word Count: 1971
Rating: 18+. Mature, but not explicit. Sexytimes after the break.
Sliding down into the tub, I allow the sweet smell of the soap to engulf me, my eyes falling shut as the warm water creeps up my skin. My aching muscles relax, the tension seeping out of them as quickly as it appeared. The first week or two of hunting in the snow is always harder than I’m anticipating it to be. But I’ll be just fine.
I know Peeta’s home when I hear his gait on the creaking, wooden stairs. Deciding to stay put, I wait for him to find me in the bathroom. He’s home a little early today. Oh, lucky wife am I.
And, truly, I am. There is no better man out there than Peeta. So when he gently knocks on the door, I smile to myself. “You can come in.” My head falls back to rest on the lip of the tub, providing me with a better vantage point to see him.
The door pushes open slowly, and Peeta steps through, shutting the door behind him. Not necessary, since we’re the only ones that live in this house. But no complaints here. Just observations.
“Hi baby,” he says, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. There is a slight uptilt to his lips, one that usually indicates a particular line of thinking. I wonder what I’m in for.
I take this chance to stare at him, lazily moving my gaze head to toe, as I know he is sizing me up, too. I avoid the urge to shift my legs together too soon, anticipating the exquisite touch of his hands that’s sure to come.
He’s wearing his normal dark-wash trousers, a long-sleeved shirt in lieu of his usual attire. The tip of his nose is just the littlest bit red. The snow gets to bakers, too, then. Briefly, I wonder what the cold of his nose would feel like while his lips make their way up my thighs. I do know how his body feels, though, as I take in the way his shirt hugs in all the perfect places.
“Hi baby,” I repeat back softly, not wanting to raise my voice too much for fear of bursting this liminal moment we’ve created. It could go very different ways. I know which way I want it to go, and if I know anything about him, I know what he wants, too.
Neither of us moves to break eye contact. Peeta does, however, slowly peel off the counter, walking around the end of the tub to kneel on the ground next to me. His arms rise up to rest on the edge, his fingertips barely brushing the water.
We haven’t lost eye contact this entire time, so when he licks his lips and says what he does next, I am malleable. Pliable. Putty, in his hands only.
“You look very beautiful today,” he says. Normal words, predictable words, but the way he says it - the way he looks at me as he says it - mouthwatering.
Desperation. That’s the thing in my throat that won’t let any other words get out. Desperation to touch, to be touched, which I can see reflected in Peeta’s face, the slight trembling of his fingers.
“You know, these bathrooms really are too large. Look, I take up only half the tub!” I tell him.
He grins. “I have to disagree. There’s only room for one kickass woman in the tub.”
I hum. Trail my fingers, dripping warm water, through my hair. “Too bad. That kickass woman was hoping she’d have someone come join her.”
This is what really catches him. His voice, usually honey-sweet, is strained, just enough to be noticeable. “In that case, I think I might know someone.”
I take a deep breath, surveying him for another moment. “Well, tell him to come my way.”
With that in the air, he finally, finally kisses me. Kisses me with the force of someone who’s been holding back just long enough that they’re about to splinter. His fingers, the tips wet from resting in the water, find their way into my hair, his thumb tilting my head up beneath the chin. Already, he is biting and tugging at my lip with his teeth, which is one of the things he’s best at. Or maybe I just like it.
The kiss is both quenching and provoking. Yes, I finally can taste the love and lust on his lips, but it only makes me want him more. That’s how it works with us. Has since basically day one, though I was blind to it for a while.
Peeta stops for a moment, close enough that we are still sharing the same air. “How can I help you, my dear?” he asks, voice more rattled than before, as one of his hands dips into the water. His fingers find and, gently, scratch along the sensitive skin at my knee. I shiver, despite the warm water. He grins, noticing the gooseflesh that’s appeared on my skin at his mere touch.
A sharp intake of breath fills my lungs, and it takes me a moment to answer. “First, you’re in an unfair amount of clothes.”
He nods his head, pulling his arm out of the water to grab the hem of his shirt and yank it off, the cuff damp where the water had almost reached the sleeve after he rolled it up. His trousers quickly follow, though his undershorts stay on for now. “What else?”
In response, I stand up, careful not to send water pouring over the edge. Peeta stands as well, reaching over to grab a towel and stepping closer to wrap it around me. His hands pause on my shoulders, holding the towel in place around me. He raises his eyebrows. Next?
I send him the best, most flirty smile I can muster. It's never been my strong suit. Then I remove the towel, allowing him to keep it. The moment he realizes my intentions, it’s discarded to the floor, easily and gladly forgotten. In his eyes, I can tell he wants to touch me, desperately, but I make him wait just a little longer.
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, one of such need and desire, that it sends a flash of pride through me. Turning a man on is so much more fun than I ever thought it could be. It makes you feel powerful, even if it’s just one person for one moment.
But with Peeta, there are so many moments like that. He praises, he worships me, but it’s never over the top. It is always in the actions: letting me fall asleep in his lap, leaving breakfast on the table, placing kisses along my skin after I have been well and truly tumbled. Doing as much as he can to please me. Yes, indeed. I am a lucky wife.
After I’ve planted myself on the bathroom counter, the edge lining up dangerously with the part of me that is Peeta’s next destination, he is on his knees again. He begins his ministrations slowly, each brush of his fingers or lips on my skin like an electric shock. My skin is so, so sensitive, and he is so, so gentle. There’s nothing better.
By the time he reaches my knees, he has scooted closer, his shoulderblades now between my legs to give him the proper access he requires. Each touch of his mouth to my skin makes it harder not to move, but I try my best. As he nears the top of my thighs, he takes one leg and throws it over his shoulder, carelessly, I would say, if it were anyone else.
“So,” he begins, frequently pausing to occupy his mouth in less talkative ways, “there is so much time left, so many things to do.” His tongue traces a thin line up the most sensitive part of my inner thigh. I gasp, eyes falling shut, hips beginning to squirm. One of his hands pushes back on my hipbone, his fingertips pressing into the skin just hard enough to leave marks. Marks for him to see, later. Maddening. “Where shall I begin?”
I realize, maybe two seconds too late, that he is genuinely asking. “Katniss, baby,” he continues, his rough voice sounding heavenly from between my legs. “Tell me how to help.” To emphasize his point, he flips my other leg over his shoulder, effectively trapping himself between and beneath me.
I gasp again, trying to get the words out. In a moment of clarity, I’m able to string together these words: “Kiss me.”
He hums, running his hands over my hips, back and forth. “From down here?”
Smartass. “Not on my lips,” I manage.
He grins, a fiercely boyish grin that I sometimes forget he’s capable of. “I see. Well, since you asked so nicely…”
I choke out a laugh. “Right. As if you didn’t come home with it already in mind.”
He laughs too, but doesn’t allow it to linger for long. “You got me there.” He says this one moment, and the next, his face is hidden and his mouth and tongue are doing such extraordinary things, and, god, his nose -
Well. I hit the nail on the head with that one.
My fingers curl into his hair, urging him on as I push him closer. I can feel his grin, so I give a sharp tug on the hair I have in hand as recompense. This pulls another sound out of his throat, a gasp out of his mouth. Both feel lovely, situated where he is. So I continue to pull at his hair when he needs some humbling.
It's breathless, it's wonderful, it's only the beginning. I'm trembling, grateful to be sitting, as he makes his way up my body. Lingering kisses on my hips, along my stomach, up my chest. He stays at my neck for a while, paying particular attention there, surely leaving behind bruises that can easily be covered by a turtleneck in this cool weather.
--
A good chunk of time passes before I'm able to drag his lips back to mine, feeling like I might die if I don't get to kiss him right this second. He happily obliges, as he knows that he is good with his mouth. In several different regards. But who's keeping track? Certainly, certainly not me.
My hands, itching to touch his skin, smooth down his shoulders, wrapping around his back, pulling him even closer. Now, he is standing again, my legs circling his waist. Our bodies are pressed together at their most intimate places, though his undershorts are still on. Slowly, I run one of my hands down his side, making sure to take my time, before sliding the tips of my fingers below his waistband. I don't move them, I don't try to take his boxers off, I just let them rest there. Let Peeta give me this incredulous, sex-addled smirk.
"Yes?" I ask. "Is there something wrong?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that. I'm just thinking..." he trails off for a moment, leaving me to fill in the blank. "Well, you know, it's not only the tubs that are too big for one person. The showers are, too. Haven't you noticed?"
Tapping my chin, I pretend to ponder his question. "Truly? I haven't. Do you care to show me?"
He swoops in for another kiss, this one full of teeth and lips and pressure. He steals my breath away. "Gladly," he says, grinning, hauling me off the counter.
With a quick turn of the knobs, the warm spray of water begins falling from the shower head, and, truthfully, there is no way to describe what happens next. No way to describe it other than really, really good sex.
A/N: So I wrote this a while ago for @jhsgf82 but never posted it. However, since it's her birthday, I figured it's the perfect time to do so! Unbeta-ed, all mistakes are my own. Enjoy!
---
The first time he saw her, he was mesmerized. He had taken his 7-year-old niece Zoe to his favorite art store because she expressed an interest in learning to paint like her favorite uncle. While walking towards the store from their parking spot, Zoe stopped in her tracks in front of a shop window, entranced by the array of colors lining the interior of a nail salon and pictures of pretty nail art examples.
“Uncle Peeta, look at all the colors and the art they do on nails. It’s like what you do but on nails!” Zoe excitedly exclaimed.
Peeta chuckled. “I guess so, but I’ve never painted on a canvas that size before, so if you want to learn that, kiddo, I may not be as helpful.”
“I still want to learn to paint with you, Uncle Peeta,” Zoe ensured. “But maybe one day I can learn to do this, too.”
“And I believe you will, Zoe bean,” he replied and patted her blonde head affectionately. “Now come on, lets-”
Peeta’s voice trailed off when he noticed a petite girl around his age walk into the front of the shop from a backroom. She wore a sage green tee, a pair of ripped denim jeans, and black low top Converse. Her olive skin seemed to glow from the sunlight streaming through the window, and her hair was in an intricate single braid hanging over her shoulder. When she looked up, he was entranced by her smoky eyes. His artist's mind immediately wanted to commit it to memory, so he could try to recreate it later. She gave a small wave when she noticed Zoe and him.
Zoe saw her, too. It was hard not to when her uncle had suddenly stopped talking and was transfixed by something through the window. “Oh, she’s pretty, Uncle Peeta,” Zoe declared. She turned to look at her uncle, “Do you think she could teach me the nail stuff?”
Peeta was broken out of his trance by Zoe’s question. “I’m not sure, Zoe bean.”
At that moment, the door to the shop opened, and the girl with the braid stepped out. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Can you teach me how to do pretty art on nails?” Zoe unabashedly questioned before her uncle could even utter a single word.
The girl with the braid lowered herself to Zoe’s height. “I’d be happy to, but I think you need to ask your dad first if that’s okay.”
“He’s not my dad. He’s my uncle. Uncle Peeta doesn’t have kids. My dad says he’s a bachelor.” Zoe shared matter-of-factly. Peeta couldn’t help but cringe at the last statement.
“Oh, is that so?” The smoky eyed girl looked up at him, amusement evident on her face and in her tone.
“Mhmmm” was Zoe’s answer.
The girl returned her attention to Zoe and said, “Let me talk to your uncle and see if he’s okay with me showing you what I can do.”
Zoe giddily nodded in response.
The shop girl stood back up to her full height. “Seems like you have your hands full with her, Uncle Peeta.” She teasingly remarked.
“Kids, right?” Peeta internally cringed. He was usually good with words, but at this exact moment, he couldn’t think of a wittier thing to say.
“She reminds me of my sister when she was around her age. I’m Katniss.” She extended her hand for a handshake.
“And as you know, I’m Peeta, and this is my niece Zoe.” When he reciprocated her action, he couldn’t help but notice how his hand engulfed hers in a perfect fit.
Katniss seemed to have noticed as well, judging by how she stared down at their entwined hands. After a beat, she spoke up. “If it’s okay with you, I’m more than happy to take her into the shop and give her a personalized demo of what I do.”
“Well, we were headed to the art store, but we can do that after. It’s hard to say no to her. It might be why I’m her favorite uncle.” He sheepishly admitted.
Katniss smiled at his confession. “I get it. I have a hard time saying no with my sister, and she’s a grown adult now.”
She then squatted down to Zoe’s height. “So Zoe, what do you say we go inside, and I’ll teach you some nail art? You can choose the colors and design.”
Zoe squealed in delight. “Okay!!”
--
Peeta quietly and contentedly watched Zoe interact with Katniss, telling her what her favorite colors were and what design she wanted on her nails - dandelions. Katniss was happy to indulge Zoe’s requests and stuck true to her word, explaining to Zoe step-by-step what she was doing.
Zoe was extremely pleased with the results of her nails - a sky blue base with alternating white fluffy dandelions and yellow ones - and asked her Uncle Peeta if she could use his phone to take pictures and send them to her parents.
With no hesitation, Peeta handed her his phone. “Of course, kiddo. You do that while I finish here with Katniss.”
Peeta turned his attention to Katniss and smiled shyly at her. “Thanks again for doing this. When Zoe sets her mind to something, she likes to see it through.”
Katniss warmly replied, “It’s my pleasure. Like I said, she reminded me of my sister, so I get it.”
“So how much for all of this?” Peeta awkwardly asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Peeta ran his hand through his blond waves, feeling guilty at the thought. “But you gave us so much of your time and indulged Zoe when I’m sure you had other things you needed to do.”
“The company was enough,” Katniss countered. “But if you really must, I like food.”
Peeta took a quick moment to process her words.Did he hear what he thought he heard? Was she possibly interested in him like he was in her? Judging by the faint blush on her cheeks and her looking shyly at him, he must have.
“I can do that.” Realizing Zoe had his phone, he grabbed his wallet from his pocket, took a business card out of it, and handed it to her. “Here’s my number. Call me, maybe?” He internally cringed again. There was something about her that had him stumbling for words.
She quietly laughed at his poor attempt at flirting. “I will.”
He widely grinned in response before turning his attention back to Zoe who was by the door tapping away on his phone. “Okay, Zoe bean, let’s go to the art store now.”
He and Zoe walked out and headed to the art store. Peeta looked down at Zoe and shook his head. His favorite (and only) niece unknowingly played matchmaker today with a beautiful woman who may be the love of his life. (Spoiler alert: she is).
*bursts through the wall like the Kool-Aid Man, wipes the drywall off of my dress and proceeds to curtsy*
Spots to kiss Prompt #50 a kiss on the knee.
Please and thank youuu (✿◠‿◠)
50. a kiss on the knee
Peeta always supposed that somehow, despite their best intentions, one of their children would likely walk in on them in a compromising position. What he hadn’t expected was this particular position. Explaining the birds and the bees to their little girl might have been easier than explaining this.
Calla’s head cocks curiously to one side as she looks from her mother, kneeling beside the bed, to her father, with his prosthetic leg set aside, and the old stump of his real leg unwrapped for his wife to massage away the pains that become worse in the cold months. Katniss accompanies her tender ministrations with kisses to the stump of his left knee, showing rather than telling him how each scarred part of him is precious to her.
Now, she sits back on her knees and reaches out a hand for their six year old. “Come here, chickadee.”
“You’re not in trouble,” Peeta adds.
“What — what happened to your leg, Papa?” Calla says worriedly, going to her mother’s arms with wide eyes.
Peeta sighs softly. “It was badly hurt, apple blossom,” he explains. “So badly hurt that the doctors had to remove part of it to save Papa.”
Calla bites her lip, her small hand reaching curiously out and then hesitating. “How’d it get hurt?”
Katniss’s expression turns plaintive and sad behind their daughter’s dark curls, and Peeta gives an infinitesimal shake of his head, assuring her he won’t tell their innocent girl anything she doesn’t need to know yet.
“I think that’s a story for when you’re a bit older, Calla,” he says. “Is that alright?”
Calla nods. “What was Mama doing?”
“She was helping me make my leg feel better. Sometimes it gets achy after I wear my prosthetic all day.” He pats the trusty metal leg. Calla has grown up knowing about it, but never having put two and two together before, and Peeta feels strangely vulnerable, like he’s a teenager on a stage again, his false leg on display for the world to see and comment on. What must his daughter think of him?
But Calla just turns to her mother, and whispers something to her.
“Of course,” Katniss says, and her eyes glass. “Of course, Calla.”
Calla leans forward and plants a sweet little kiss on her father’s knee. “Does that make it feel better, Papa?” she says.
Peeta can hardly find the words, so he just nods, and Calla’s loving smile, so like her mother’s, melts all his insecurities away.
There have been many posts crediting President Snow for his “genius” decision having the tributes being previous winners for the 75th Hunger Games, however, I think it is probably the biggest mistake he makes in the series… And Plutarch’s smartest move.
The main rule in the Hunger Games is that there is always one winner. Not only is the winner awarded a fancy house and a large sum of money, but they are paraded around the capital. Their status is elevated and their home district views them as a celebrity. It is the only ticket to “rise up” in society. We as the reader know that being a Victor is still a terrible fate (body sold to capital citizens, used as a prop, forced to be a mentor), however, they symbolize a win for the district as a whole and enforce the hatred districts have for each other.
In the 74th Games, Crane makes the decision to change the rules and allow two tributes from the same district to win the games. Whether this is purely for drama to make the romance element sell better or a clever way to introduce false hope, all tributes believe this rule is real. There is a chance Katniss and Peeta can really win together. When the rug is pulled out from under them, they are forced to choose who will win causing all hope of their dual survival to be lost. Both Katniss and Peeta want the other to win, however, they know the toll it will take emotionally on that individual to be the lone survivor (survivor’s guilt). With no hope of a fair life, they are both willing to die together creating an all or nothing situation. Crane is forced to let both of them win, knowing that if no one wins the games, the districts might realize that “their sacrifice” was for nothing. He believes two winners are better than none (And honestly he’s lowkey right), and it costs him his life.
During Snow’s conversation with Crane he states, “Fear does not work as long as there is hope”. Katniss and Peeta winning together is not inherently revolutionary, it was not done to spite the capital, but Snow cannot let go of the idea that they broke the carefully constructed rules of the games, and, therefore, must be punished. He forgets that Katniss and Peeta are not universally liked, especially in districts where they had to kill their tributes (district 1 and 2). Snow blames Crane for even introducing the idea of two winners in the first place, the rules of the Hunger Games have been solidified for good reason. Ironically, the ending of the games is not what brings on the rebellion, it is really Rue’s relationship with Katniss. The kindness Katniss shows shows during Rue’s death unites the Districts for a moment, and creates a connection between District 11 and District 12.
This push for fear and punishment blind Snow when Plutarch becomes the game maker. Although all the districts know the 75th Games will have a twist, deciding to draw tributes from the existing Victors is a critical mistake. Yes, it allows Snow to “punish” Katniss for bending the rules, however, Snow forgets that the Victors symbolize hope to a necessary degree for society to function. The districts need to feel like they can win something, they need some distraction of power to stop them from realizing they are constantly being manipulated. Taking two of the golden children away from every district unites the efforts of rebellion. It is the clearest way to say “no, you are all losers at the end of the day”. This blatant reminder is not needed, and spreads anger throughout the entire Panem system.
Snow’s weakness is he doesn’t understand that fear cannot work without the idea of mercy. There must be some possible reward to work for, or hopelessness will take over and people will act without care for their lives. If both options bring death and torture, why not rebel? The additional scenes in Mockingjay Part 1, demonstrate this notion perfectly (the dam in District 5 and the bombs in District 7).
The real or not real scenes in The Hunger Games are so important! President Snow manipulated Katniss into revealing her true affections towards Peeta by asking her to convince him that they were in love, which she ultimately did, which lead to Peeta’s capture as a punishment for Katniss. The thing is, though, Katniss didn’t fall in love with Peeta in the spotlight in their rehearsed moments while she was trying to convince Snow, she fell in love with him in the tiny moments, sleeping with him on the roof before the Quell, sharing their favorite colors on the train, eating the cheese buns he’d bake for her and her family. These were tiny moments that weren’t recorded, and therefore weren’t able to be manipulated when Peeta was high jacked. These are the moments that bring Peeta back to Katniss with real or not real. Snow wanted to use Peeta as a prop to destroy Katniss once Katniss convinced Snow of her love, but in the end the moments that made her fall in love are the moments that saved him from that destruction.
no you guys don’t get it; it’s so bad on tiktok. everyone on there is so insistent that foxface purposefully killed herself with the berries solely based off the two second clip in the movie (which wasn’t even identifying edible plants it was literally just matching).
like…… the whole point with foxface from the beginning was not to overestimate your competitors. when she talks about cato and foxface in the same passage she explicitly states that it’s just as dangerous to overestimate who you’re facing. in that she was thinking about how she might be overestimating cato’s intelligence, but then foxface goes and does the same with peeta. katniss constantly talked about how smart she was. she had made it to the final four solely off of taking from others just to keep herself alive. she had been doing it the entire games, but she trusted that peeta knew the berries he was grabbing. she probably didn’t even check to see what they looked like, because let’s be real. district five’s industry was ELECTRICITY. do you really think someone from the power district knows anything about edible plants? she saw the berries with the cheese and took some to fuel herself. because she assumed katniss and peeta were literally about to eat them. why on earth would she kill herself when she was three people away from winning? and if she knew they were poisonous and assumed katniss and peeta were about to eat them, she would’ve been final two. she could’ve waited for them to eat the berries, take katniss’s bow and arrows, and she would’ve had at least a fighting chance against cato. not to mention all the other districts HATE THE CAREERS. if she knew they were poisonous, decided to kill herself, and assumed katniss and peeta were going to eat them, that would’ve left cato as victor. there was no one else. she did not know they were poisonous. she overestimated peeta’s intelligence. it’s saying being stupid is dangerous for everyone.
The Hunger Games epilogue is emotional in so many ways that I forgot so many details until I re-read the series this week. In the book of memories that Katniss makes, among all her and Peeta's memories of the games and the victors and district 12, Haymitch asks her to add every single tribute he mentored and lost ever since he won his own games. Earlier in Mockingjay, Katniss tells him something along the line of "you closed yourself off to everyone until Peeta and I came into the picture" and he neither confirmed nor denied. And while it is obvious that he loves Peeta and Katniss like his own kids, this one line in the epilogue tells me he didn't close himself off as much as he wanted to. He remembered all 46 children the Capitol put under his care only to witness them horribly die. Most of them were from the Seam, just like he was. All of them had families waiting for them, all of them wanted to survive. He remembered them and asked Katniss to write their stories and described them so Peeta would draw them, so that even if history books don't deem them important enough to remember, someone will.
Also while Everlark get married and have kids, he raises geese in his backyard. I think that's also important.
I'm certain I'm not the first to think/realise this, but during my hunger games reread I noticed that the announcement that there can be two victors if they are from the same district comes when the only pairs left are Katniss/Peeta and Clove/Cato. Plus, when Thresh gets ahold of Clove, she calls for Cato. The book states he cradles her, begging her to stay with him. I reckon the rule change was not just for the Katniss/Peeta romance drama angle, but because unbeknownst to our otherwise occupied narrator, Clove and Cato had formed a romance in the arena that was being televised. So the capitol was like,,, let's add a couple V couple love island element
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