Of course we're all gushing about the mockingjay pin but can we talk about Maysilee wearing a chamomile flower too for a second. In the book Haymitch only mentions Asterid gifting him a sprig, and him telling her to carry one as well, but seeing everyone she loves wearing them as lucky charms in the movie is fucking devastating. Burdock told Asterid it would protect her and she proceeded to gift little flowers to everyone she wanted safe, hoping it would keep their lives from being completely, irreparably destroyed by the Games.
It didn't work for a single one of them.
And 24 years later her little girl is headed to her first reaping ceremony and the oldest one suddenly pulls the mockingjay pin out of nowhere. For luck. Asterid is stronger than me I would've thrown up on the spot
And she thinks it's the chamomile all over again. But she tries to believe it's going to work this time. It's going to work this time.
It doesn't.
But Prim wants to give it back to Katniss, for luck, and she can't bring herself to stop her.
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Me: I donāt like how this character is written, I wish the author made a better choice.
Someone, without fail, always: the character didnāt have a choice š š š
Me: I know, the author wrote them in a corner, I just think itās bad writing and I hate it.
That other person: no you donāt understand!!! The character had to do it this way!!!!
Me: no, yeah, I get it. Iām complaining about the author here.
Them: mental health matters!!!
Me:ā¦.it sure does! This isnāt likeā¦a great portrayal of that though. If anything this is like, the exact opposite of how to write someone with mental illness.
Them: you just donāt get it. This is what the character had to do
Me, down to my final nerve: Iām talking about the author. That is what Iām criticizing. The author and their choices. The way they chose to write this character. Not the character, not even necessarily the choices the character made. The author. For making them be like that. For making them make that choice.
āIāll be back in a little bit. Iām just heading out to pick up our dinner,ā my mother promises.
Peeta and I are visiting her in District 4 this week. She just moved to a slightly bigger apartment, this time with a spare bedroom. Sheās been really looking forward to our visitā¦ sometimes, I even think she might be a bit lonely here. Sheās been reminding me weāre always welcome at her place. I think thereās a part of me that will always feel a bit awkward when I initially arrive ā thereās something weird about seeing your mother living in a space thatās not the one you grew up in. But itās a nice place and I like the neighbourhood sheās in.
āSounds great, Asterid,ā Peeta says gently. Iām snuggled up next to him on her couch, having just finished watching a movie. It wasnāt very good, but doing something so mundane with my husband and mother felt nice.
Like a pair of teenagers, I start peppering Peetaās face with kisses the moment the door shuts.
āWe have the place to ourselves,ā I tease.
Peeta laughs. āTrue, but not for long.ā This doesnāt stop him from returning the kisses. Soon enough, Iāve crawled into his lap. I leave no part of his beautiful face untouched, kissing everywhere I possibly can. Peeta keeps trying to remind me sheāll be back soon, but gives up when our hips start grinding together of their own accord. His hands trace along the waistband of my shorts. I can feel him growing hard beneath me. Itās intoxicating.
āPeeta,ā I moan.
The door swings open as Iām sucking a spot on Peetaās jawline. I got caught up in Peetaās lips and didnāt hear footsteps coming down the hallway. My mother takes one look at the way Iām positioned in Peetaās lap and shakes her head before setting the takeout bag on the counter.
āItās not what it looks like!ā I shriek. I scramble to get off Peetaās lap in a rush, almost kicking him in the face in the process. He grabs a pillow to hold over his lap until heās āpresentableā again.
āKatniss, Iām a widow. I had many enjoyable years of kissing your father wherever we pleased before you came along. Youāre a married woman yourself. Iām not saying I want to see you two fooling around in my presence, but you donāt need to pretend you two donāt do this in your own home,ā she chuckles.
Peeta bursts into hysterical laughter beside me. āIām sorry, Asterid!ā he roars.
āThank you, Peeta. Now, if you donāt mind helping me dish out the food, that would be great.ā
The three of us spend the evening enjoying the food my mother picked up: salads, cheesy flatbreads, and sweet, fizzy drinks. We play a board game after dinner. I canāt help but notice my mother has conveniently placed herself between Peeta and I.
The next morning, she clucks her tongue and frowns at the small, purple mark thatās formed just below his jawline.
Most years, there isn't a kid from their part of town, and the collective rituals of gathering in the square to mourn and comfort belong more to the Seamfolk, while shop families like the Marches and Donners tend to stay in their own homes for the mandatory nightly viewings. But it's been going around that this yearāwith twice as many tributes for the Quell and Maysilee's name drawnāthe shop families plan to be present to support the Donners. At least for tonight's opening ceremonies. Asterid supposes people would talk if Maysie's own twin sister didn't show, but is being talked about really worse than standing in front of everyone being pitiedĀ while you watch someone you love trotted out like a prize pig headed for slaughter?
In this town, perhaps.
