Heres an intro to what's going to be my mini art account here!
About me
Interest: Hunger games, books, adventure time, Pokémon, professor Layton, Marvel & DC, musicals, project hail mary
Hobbies: Reading, fashion, art, Journaling and photography
Main Topics: Hunger games & art
Though I am an adult I dont really want to interact with heavy NSFW spaces so if your account is heavy Kink or NSFW just know I probably won't be mutuals with you haha.
This account will mainly be about my hunger games oc's so just be ready for all of that :3
Main Blog -> @ghostmouze
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please feel free to ask me stuff about the story, im also cool with ask about other stuff!!
the difference in hunger games narrators is so funny to me like this is our starting lineup
katniss: i go to a place and do a thing using a skill. also everyone hates me. oh you want to know more about myself? here are four straight paragraphs just describing food instead.
haymitch: so the baker’s in love with my best friends girl and my girlfriend’s uncle is gay and secretly dating the town window-fixer and she’s actually related to lucy gray and has beef with the mayors daughter who bullied me and her social security number is—
snow: everyone here is UGLY and OBNOXIOUS and TACKY and I Am God.
Story down here :3 Also feel free to ask me questions about the characters!!
I wake up to pain.
Not sharp pain. Heavy pain.
The kind that settles behind my eye and pulses with every heartbeat until even blinking feels annoying.
I groan and press the heel of my palm against one eye before immediately regretting it.
Right.
The black eye.
Last night had been stupid, or necessary.
Depends who's asking.
It'd been weeks since my last fight, but reaping stress somehow dragged me right back underground, where boys crowded into storage rooms betting on bruises and broken noses. I won, barely. The other kid looked worse by the end, but I still walked away with a swollen eye and split knuckles for my trouble.
My parents hate when I come home bruised.
Not enough to refuse the money though.
My sisters hate it too. Or pretend to.
The older one scolds me like she's my mother, and the younger one just looks disappointed. Somehow both of them manage to stay clean and polite and useful. Kind to Peacekeepers. Helpful around the shop.
The favorites.
I drag myself out of bed and pull on the clothes laid out for today. Green corduroy pants that are still too long at the ankles. White undershirt. Tan vest.
I hate reaping day clothes.
Everyone dressed up nice so the Capitol can pretend they aren’t sending children to slaughter. Clean us up first. Make the sacrifices prettier.
The second I step into the kitchen, my sister notices the bruise.
"Oh, for God's sake, Judas."
I ignore her.
"You couldn't avoid one fight? One?"
"Couldn't avoid your voice either, apparently."
Her mouth tightens.
"Do you enjoy embarrassing this family?"
That does it.
The yelling starts fast after that.
By the time I slam out the front door I hear my mother shout my name behind me but I keep walking.
They all act like I'm the problem child.
But at least I'm honest about what this district does to people.
Two years ago, my best friend stood in the square wearing nice clothes too.
Thirteen.
Second year eligible.
Nobody volunteered.
I remember watching him try not to cry during interviews. Sitting in front of the television every night convincing myself somehow he’d make it home.
He didn’t.
Sometimes I still wake up hearing cannon fire.
I shove the thought away.
Before every reaping, I hide.
Same place every year.
An abandoned factory near the edge of District 8 where rust creeps over machines no one bothered with anymore, dust thick enough to leave footprints behind. Nobody comes here anymore except me.
Mostly because if I spend too much time outside I end up mouthing off one of the Peacekeepers and one day one of them's going to decide my family name isn't enough to save me anymore
Funny thing is, the Peacekeepers like the rest of my family.
My parents make uniforms and armor for them. My sisters smile politely and act respectful, my older sister even flirts with one of them.
The there's me with bruised knuckles and a bad attitude ruining the image.
I sit cross legged on dusty concrete and spin the brass ring around my finger.
Old.
Too big.
My dad gave it to my first reaping year.
One of the only things he's ever given me I actually like.
The sound of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts.
I don't tense when I see Mercer.
Mercer checks on me whenever he can.
Not in a pitying way either. Like I actually matter or maybe because he knows what it's like being angry all the time.
Which is weird enough to still throw me off.
"Thought I'd find you here," Mercer says.
I snort. "Creepy."
He smiles a little at that then his eyes land on my face.
"You fought again."
"Won again too."
"That wasn't the deal."
Mercer's the one who convinced me to stop for a while. Said eventually I'd pick a fight with someone who wouldn't stop when I hit the ground.
He's probably right.
We talk for a bit after that.
Mostly about nothing.
Work.
District gossip.
Calico.
Mercer talks about her constantly without realizing it. Calico bringing food to families. Calico fixing clothes for neighbors. Calico helping old people carry things home from the factories.
Sometimes Seda too.
Close friends, he always says.
I'm not stupid though.
I've seen the way Calico looks at Seda when she thinks nobody notices.
The way Seda softens around her.
Mercer seems strange today.
Distracted.
His eyes keep drifting toward spaces behind me, like he’s waiting for someone to walk through the factory doors.
Like something bad’s already happened and he’s just waiting for me to catch up.
When he finally stands to leave, he hesitates.
Then says quietly:
“I’m sorry, Judas.”
I frown.
“For what?”
But he only shakes his head.
The look on his face twists something uncomfortable inside my chest.
Like goodbye.
I try not to think about it on the walk to the square.
The place is already packed when I get there. Kids lined up by age. Boys on one side. Girls on the other.
The older boys near me snicker immediately.
“Thought your face couldn’t get uglier.”
A shoulder slams into mine.
I shove back hard enough to make him stumble.
Not worth it.
Not here.
I can punch him later.
Today I just glare until he backs off.
Not worth getting dragged out by Peacekeepers before the reaping even starts.
I stare at the stage while the escort gives her stupid speech.
Girls first.
Always girls first.
The escort reaches into the bowl.
“Seda Madder!”
I turn instantly.
Seda looks frozen.
Poor Seda.
Too thin lately. Too pale around the mouth. Always coughing.
She’d die fast in an arena.
Then-
“I volunteer!”
I blink.
Calico.
For half a second, I think I imagined it.
But there she is, already stepping forward smiling like she means it.
Smiling.
My stomach twists.
Calico Flax spends half her life helping people. Bringing leftovers to hungry families. Sewing clothes. Checking on neighbors. She’s kind in the annoying sort of way that makes people trust her instantly.
For a second I honestly think maybe she wants this. She sounds happy. Excited even.
But something about it feels wrong.
Too perfect.
Like she’s performing for the cameras.
I glance toward Mercer automatically.
He looks horrified.
Not shocked.
Horrified.
The escort practically beams at Calico while she climbs the stage wrapped in that faded blue shawl she always wears.
Then the escort reaches into the boys’ bowl.
I stop breathing before she even says it.
“Judas Napier.”
Everything goes quiet.
No.
I wait.
There's stronger boys around me, maybe they'll volunteer.
Nobody does.
Of course nobody does.
I look around once. Just once.
Half of me wants to run.
The other half wants to punch a Peacekeeper in the face hard enough they shoot me dead right here so I don’t have to go to the Capitol.
Instead I force my legs to move.
One step.
Then another.
My chest feels tight enough to crack open.
I don’t look at my parents.
Don’t look at my sisters.
But I do look at Mercer.
He’s staring at me with the same horror he wore when Calico volunteered.
The same grief.
Like I matter too.
The stage feels too bright.
Too exposed.
I suddenly become painfully aware of the bruise around my eye, my split knuckles, my cheap clothes that feel dirtier than everyone else’s.
The escort looks me over.
Her smile slips for half a second.
Disgust.
Like she already knows what kind of tribute I am.
Violent.
Filthy.
District trash.
I clench my fists harder.
Beside me stands Calico.
Calm.
Pretty in that faded blue shawl.
Terrifyingly composed.
And guilt settles strangely in my chest because underneath all the fear, underneath the memory of my friend dying screaming on television, underneath the certainty that I’m probably about to die too...
“A snake in tall grass didn’t need claws. Only patience.”
Hint hint at how the Arena is going to be for Cali and Judas.
After I make a few more story post about before game stuff like, interview, chariot ride then im going to mostly be writing the games in Cali's POV though some of it will be in Judas' cause it is important to some of the symbolism I want to use for him...
Hint hint for his symbolism it has to do with an animal and his first name...
Johanna edit from abit ago. Posting this mostly as a filler since i haven’t been locked in on writing stuff for my blog.(just know i have stuff cooking…mostly fics.)
i’ll probably post the Cashmere one i made as well
Ignore that they dont have shoes... I hate drawing shoes
I will be doing a pov for each character but that will be for later
Down here for Cali's POV story of the reaping
This year, today, is my last day to be reaped.
Relief is supposed to come with this day. One final reaping and then you're free forever. No more standing in the square trying not to shake while watching some capitol hand dig around in a glass bowl for your name.
Father has been acting strange since he came home from his Peacekeeper service last week. He startles at small things now. Doors opening too fast. Boots scraping pavement. Sometimes I even catch him staring at the peacekeepers posted around the alleys and streets, like he's expecting them to drag him away.
This morning he braided my hair for me.
His hands are rough from years of factory work and Peacekeeper service, both too large and stiff for something as delicate as plaiting pale strands of hair. He kept messing up the braid and starting all over again, each time getting quieter. We never said much to one another on this day, this time felt different though.
When he finishes, he drapes my mother's shawl around my shoulders. Muted blue crochet, frayed at the edges. Her favorite color, he always told me.
I wear something of hers every reaping day. A habit I started when I was 12, my first year where I wore one of her necklaces.
"She'll bring you luck," Father would always say and I found myself clinging to that now.
"You look like her," He said softly.
I pretend not to notice the way his voice catches.
Before the reaping, I head to Seda's apartment. The factory manager had given us kids a few days off. Its one of the only kindnesses our district allows ourselves this week. Nobody wants children stitching uniforms the morning they might be sent to die.
Seda looked worse than she did last week. Thin. Pale beneath her brown skin. Her cough lingering even after she tried to hide it behind her sleeve.
Still, she smiled at me from her bed.
Her dark hair is pinned up carefully, twisted into beautiful braids that her mother taught her. She's prettier than anyone else in District 8, the color along the dullness in my life.
"You're worrying too much, Cali."
"I'm not."
"You twist your fingers when you lie."
I stop immediately, making her laugh softly.
Seda pulls me down beside her on the bed, my knee pressed against hers.
"Its our last year," she continued softly. "Neither of us even took tesserae. The odds are better for us than most."
I nod because she wants me to.
But I still think about the names sitting folded in glass bowls waiting to ruin someone's life.
When I leave, Seda kisses me quickly at the door where no one can see. We never touch too long in public.
By the time I get home, father is waiting outside.
The second he sees me, he wraps his arms around me so tightly i can barely breathe. It feels wrong immediately. Not comforting. Desperate.
Like he already knows something I dont. Like he could already see me on the train to the Capitol
The walk to the square is silent.
Children fill the streets in pressed clothing and polished shows. Everyone trying to look smaller than they are. Younger. Forgettable.
The square itself is already packed by the time we arrive. Rows of girls on one side, boys on the other, all separated by age.
I find Seda quickly.
She slips her hand into mine the second I stand beside her.
The stage is covered in bright banners with the Capitol seal stitched across them. The escort from the Capitol smiles too much. Teeth white as bone.
I barely hear her speech.
Instead I keep looking back at my father standing near the edge of the crowd. He looks sick. Truly sick. His eyes keep darting toward the Peacekeepers.
Then the escort reaches into the girls' bowl.
Every sound in the square disappears.
"Seda Madder."
The world drops out beneath me.
Seda's hand goes rigid in mine.
For a second neither of us moves. I can feel her shaking beside me as people around us turn and stare. Seda's fingers lock around mine hard enough to hurt. Her face drains of color.
The escort repeats her name cheerfully, like this is a celebration instead of a funeral.
Her hand slips from mine as she takes one step forward out of line.
I look at her an suddenly all I can picture is her in an arena trying to breathe through smoke or cold or blood while the Capitol watches for entertainment.
She wouldn't survive a week let alone a day or two.
The words leave my mouth before fear can stop them.
"I volunteer."
It wasn't loud, but firm and almost energetic without meaning to.
Gasps rise around me.
Seda whips toward me so fast her hair nearly comes loose.
My heart is hammering hard enough to hurt, but I force myself to smile anyway as I step forward. Cameras swing toward me immediately. I know enough about the games to understand appearances matter.
Happy volunteers are more popular.
The escort claps excitedly as I climb the steps. "Well don't you look delighted!"
I smile wider even though my stomach feels like its caving in.
Then I look into the crowd for my father.
The expression on his face nearly breaks me.
Horror.
Not surprise. Not grief.
Horror.
Like this is exactly what he was afraid of.
For one terrible second, I think he's going to say something. Confess something maybe. But he stays frozen in place while Peacekeepers stand around him with rifles.
"And what is your name dear?" Her voice sounds grating in my ears.
"Calico Flax"
As the words leave my mouth it feels like poison on my lips but that smile stays on my face.
She then moves to the boys bowl. I cant focus on anything except for the way Seda and my father are both looking at me.
The escort reaches into the boys' bowl.
"Judas Napier!"
A boy steps out slowly from the crowd.
Fifteen years old. Tall already but all sharp elbows and bruises. One eye still darkened purple from a fight.
Judas looks furious.
Not scared. Furious.
People in District 8 know the Napiers. They make Peacekeeper uniforms and armor, which means most families avoid them when they can. But Mercer, my father never did. He always treated Judas kindly.
Judas climbs the stage like he wants the punch someone.
His fists stay clenched at his sides while the escort talks cheerfully beside us.
I glance over at him once.
He catches me looking.
There's something frightening in his expression. Rage so strong it almost looks painful.
But underneath it, just for a second, I see something else.
Judas Napier, him and his family have worked in making the armour and uniforms for peacekeepers for many years. It's been his job ever since he was able to learn how to probably handle the equipment.
To avoid having to get tessera he fights in underground places at night, illegal boxing rings where people can bet on kids fighting one another. It didnt make the people in the capitol to fond of him when his name was pulled and he had to walk on stage with a bruised and battered face.
Mercer Flax, he is Calicos father. Having her mother, his wife, die shortly after child birth due to the conditions she had to work in her whole life he signed up to be a peacekeeper once Cali learned how to work. When Cali was 13 and had her job working with lace he left and started to be a peacekeeper.
Mercer appreciates the Napier family and when he comes back to visit Cali he also gives extra food to the Napiers because of the 3 kids they have including Judas.
That's all you get for now ;3, there is a lot more to be added but that shall be for another post for when I start fully writing out the short stories in journal form.
Also it is... so easy to tell what actor i used for Mercers face claim... I just couldnt change it the actor was too perfect for me
D7 ocs Hart Downer and Briar Liévre 😛😛Some background and stuff:If you know me you know I love medieval anything (although moreso romanticized...Sue me) and I definitely leaned into that here BUT I've also got legit reasons for the stuff they're wearing.
Hart's ancestry is largely Irish
He sunburns easily
His little caplet thing is to help keep bugs, sap, and whatever else off of his clothes
Really and truly sees Briar as some sort of fairy in his mind's eye
Only child
Lumberjack, but he doesn't fell trees. Instead he cuts up small trees that have been felled, or chops branches off of larger treesAlso acne prone.
Get him some sunscreen and a gentle cleanser
Briar has mostly French and Romani ancestryI know a large headcanon is that the Covey are Romani (mostly), which is a great headcanon, but Briar is NOT a Covey oc. Not all Romani are Covey, and not all Covey are Romani.
Both aspects of her heratige, although deteriorated over time, have been very important to her family to preserve.
3 siblings. 2 younger, 1 older
Her normal clothes are not this nice lol I just wanted to draw her in some fancy fabrics for practice.
But she does like more fancy/colorful clothing
She loves to dance, just like her mom (me)
Victor of the 17th Hunger Games 😛 (Swampy, Bayou type arena)
She works in the processing plant scraping off bark and little twigs (she's a backup Lumberjack as well, but doesn't see the field often)
(Left to right: Lux Wisdom 9M, Solene Bernard 1F, Catalie Jones 2F, Andy Gravea 2M, Yves Thales 1M)
On GOD I'm on my OC grind I'm just too lazy to write anything lol. Anyway everyone except Andy is not my own OC, they're my friends (none are in tumblr).
Seda is Cali's girlfriend whom Cali volunteers for because Seda has severe health problems from working with dyes and fumes in the dye factories of district 8
