When Katniss doesn’t kiss you on the beach
Christmas has always been my sister’s favorite time of year. She loves the music, the lights, and the presents. It’s the only time in her life that she can actually be a kid. She doesn’t have to think about hospital beds and doctors—or her failing heart.
Prim has always been optimistic, despite the fact that she’s spent a better part of her twelve years on Earth in a hospital. And now I’m all she has left. I’m the one who is responsible for her.
My dad died right after Prim was born, which caused my mother to spiral out of control. You would think when Prim got sick that she would have managed to sober up, but I guess I gave her way too much credit.
Prim has always had the biggest heart, but it definitely isn’t the strongest. She was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy right after her fifth birthday. Her condition was manageable in the beginning, but it’s clear we’re reaching the end. There’s only one option left for my sister, and that’s a new heart. You hear about children on transplant lists, waiting and wondering if your child will be next. Well, it’s agonizing. Prim has been on the donor’s list for the past six months. The longer we wait, the worse she gets.
I don’t believe in miracles—or the spirit of Christmas—but maybe there’s a little magic still left in this fucked up world.
Read on AO3 Thank you to @papofglencoe for editing and pushing me to write after years of taking a break.
djoswiftie reblogged
Anonymous asked:
O. M. G. YES PLEASE DO KATNISS SENDING PEETA THAT (that screenshot fuck, truck message) I NEED IT LIKE KATNISS NEEDS PEETA PLEASE
Short but sweet:
djoswiftie reblogged
Real, or not real?
djoswiftie reblogged
As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta’s child could be safe.
djoswiftie reblogged
Every night I crawl into his bed to watch him sleep.
Last night was different.
The mutts came for him until I screamed. His comfort became wings. His shushes, promises. My fingers wound around him and his fingers inched inside me, coaxing me to come to him.
All night we came.
Our bodies entwined, we finally slept.
This morning I found him sitting in the doorway, watching the rain. Wordlessly, I joined him.
The door is unyielding, sturdy. The rain, soft. My eyes fall to his hands, and I think about all they make.
If he asks, I’ll tell him.
Remember when Mockingjay came out and you were so hyped to find out what happened to Peeta? Was he dead? What the hell was going to happen. And then you finally get to the part where he is rescued and it's going to be all romance and hot sex, but then he chokes Katniss and your whole world shatters. I MISS THOSE DAYS.
djoswiftie reblogged
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark Characters: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark Additional Tags: Zombies, Some Sexy Time Summary:
All Katniss wants is to save her sister. She isn’t interested in making allies, but she can’t face the Capitol alone. Peeta Mellark is her saving grace. Their bond is the only thing that keeps her going. Mutts. The Capitol. Snow. It’s the perfect scenario for a zombie apocalypse.
Source: archiveofourown.org
djoswiftie reblogged
I’ll see you at midnight.
djoswiftie reblogged
I’m a mutt! Leave me, I’m a mutt!
djoswiftie reblogged
Pumpkin Spice(x)
Author: @papofglencoe
Rated: E for explicit language and sexual content
A/N: Modern AU. Part 1 of 2. Thanks to @dandelion-sunset for betaing whatever this is at 4am. You’re amazing, my friend.
For @everhutcher, @hutchhitched, @joshs-left-earlobe, and @hutchercougarwife. ;)
The creaking of our front door announces her arrival, followed by the plunking of her car keys as she drops them into the ceramic bowl we keep on the hall stand. Even from the kitchen and over the din of the television I can hear her let out a sound that’s half-growl/half-sigh and completely done-with-the-world’s-shit. I count to ten, waiting for the thudding of her combat boots as she kicks them off into the large pile of shoes that she insists on leaving in the foyer, and then I count to ten again before I start talking.
When I can sense her behind me, leaning against the doorframe, I shoot a look over my shoulder to assess how bad the situation is. “You came home. I didn’t expect you back so soon.” I try not to sound too happy about it, settling for what I hope sounds like pleasant surprise and not heel-clicking, tap-dancing jubilation.