"The End is the Beginning" by spanglemaker9 (M)
I just realized I neglected to introduce myself last week, so hi! I'm stars_inthe_sky (you can also find me on Tumblr). I've driven vans for Buffy, Firefly, and Broadway musicals in the past, and now I'm back for a spin in the world of Panem. I'm mostly a fan of canon and canon-compliant pairings and stories, so prepare for a lot of, er, Peeniss (worst/best portmanteau ever...) and pre-Mockingjay epilogue stories, as well as a few intriguing AUs (one of which I've already recced)!
Now let the games begin!
Fandom: THE HUNGER GAMES
Pairing: Katniss/Peeta
Length: ~5k words
Author on LJ: spanglemaker9
Author Website: Twitter | AO3 | Tumblr
Why this must be read: "The End is the Beginning" is another entry into the Mockingjay epilogue accordion folder, and it's one where the author does an excellent job of capturing Katniss's tell-don't-show voice in the books. Your mileage may vary on the literary value, but there's no doubt that this reads like a condensed chapter left out of the end of the trilogy. It's also noteworthy for treating our heroes like the adolescents they still are--barely eighteen when the story ends--and incorporating all of the angst and uncertainty and sharpened worldviews of the age.
Peeta is with me in the morning to see Gale off on the rest of his trip. He stands just behind me as I embrace Gale and tell him to come back and hunt with me soon. Gale says he will, but we both know he'll never find time. Gale has left the woods behind forever. As his hovercraft ascends, Peeta steps back up behind me and I feel his hand settle on the base of my neck. I lean against him as I shade my eyes from the sun.
He leaves right after that to go start the fires in his ovens for the day, but I know he'll be back soon. We both know where he belongs now.
When he comes for dinner, he brings the bread he always brings, but he also brings a handful of delicate little cookies, tied up in a handkerchief. They are frosted and decorated in Peeta's unmistakable hand, with tiny purple flowers.
"What are the flowers?" I ask.
"Wild sumac," he says.
"What's that for? What does it mean?"
Peeta shrugs. "Nothing. It doesn't mean anything. Just a pretty flower. I thought we could use something simple."
I look at the little flowers he's painted and it's nice. No roses, no flames, no mockingjays, no symbolism of any kind. A purple flower that's only a purple flower. "You're right," I say, taking the cookies from him.
We eat his cookies with my mint tea later that night in front of the fire. Then I lead him up to my room, like I have every night for months and months.
By now, it's routine. He snuffs out the candle and I roll into him. Our limbs tangle as we find a comfortable position against each other. Tonight, though, as soon as I'm settled against his chest, I feel Peeta's hand slide up over my hip, around to the small of my back, up my spine, until his fingers tangle into the ends of my hair. I feel something unfamiliar flutter in my stomach. It's not unpleasant.
I know where Peeta belongs. He belongs here, next to me. That much is clear and decided. But crossing this line, going to this place with him, makes me anxious and uncertain. For all I have been through and seen, the vast depth of my experiences, in this one way, I am still completely innocent. It's an odd sensation when I am so used to feeling bitter and jaded about everything. But Peeta is as innocent as me. We are both lost in these woods.
The End is the Beginning
Now let the games begin!
Fandom: THE HUNGER GAMES
Pairing: Katniss/Peeta
Length: ~5k words
Author on LJ: spanglemaker9
Author Website: Twitter | AO3 | Tumblr
Why this must be read: "The End is the Beginning" is another entry into the Mockingjay epilogue accordion folder, and it's one where the author does an excellent job of capturing Katniss's tell-don't-show voice in the books. Your mileage may vary on the literary value, but there's no doubt that this reads like a condensed chapter left out of the end of the trilogy. It's also noteworthy for treating our heroes like the adolescents they still are--barely eighteen when the story ends--and incorporating all of the angst and uncertainty and sharpened worldviews of the age.
Peeta is with me in the morning to see Gale off on the rest of his trip. He stands just behind me as I embrace Gale and tell him to come back and hunt with me soon. Gale says he will, but we both know he'll never find time. Gale has left the woods behind forever. As his hovercraft ascends, Peeta steps back up behind me and I feel his hand settle on the base of my neck. I lean against him as I shade my eyes from the sun.
He leaves right after that to go start the fires in his ovens for the day, but I know he'll be back soon. We both know where he belongs now.
When he comes for dinner, he brings the bread he always brings, but he also brings a handful of delicate little cookies, tied up in a handkerchief. They are frosted and decorated in Peeta's unmistakable hand, with tiny purple flowers.
"What are the flowers?" I ask.
"Wild sumac," he says.
"What's that for? What does it mean?"
Peeta shrugs. "Nothing. It doesn't mean anything. Just a pretty flower. I thought we could use something simple."
I look at the little flowers he's painted and it's nice. No roses, no flames, no mockingjays, no symbolism of any kind. A purple flower that's only a purple flower. "You're right," I say, taking the cookies from him.
We eat his cookies with my mint tea later that night in front of the fire. Then I lead him up to my room, like I have every night for months and months.
By now, it's routine. He snuffs out the candle and I roll into him. Our limbs tangle as we find a comfortable position against each other. Tonight, though, as soon as I'm settled against his chest, I feel Peeta's hand slide up over my hip, around to the small of my back, up my spine, until his fingers tangle into the ends of my hair. I feel something unfamiliar flutter in my stomach. It's not unpleasant.
I know where Peeta belongs. He belongs here, next to me. That much is clear and decided. But crossing this line, going to this place with him, makes me anxious and uncertain. For all I have been through and seen, the vast depth of my experiences, in this one way, I am still completely innocent. It's an odd sensation when I am so used to feeling bitter and jaded about everything. But Peeta is as innocent as me. We are both lost in these woods.
The End is the Beginning