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crack_van2012-11-21 10:15 am
stars-inthe-sky.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2012-11-21 10:15 am
Entry tags:
"the collective sanity" by hewhoistomriddle (T)
Fandom: THE HUNGER GAMES
Pairing: Katniss/Peeta, Johanna/Gale, various other canonical and OC pairings
Length: ~14k words
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: FFN
Why this must be read: Part District 12 genealogy, part character study, and part light crack, "the collective sanity" is both like and unlike any other THG fic you've read. It's frank and funny and will twist your gut at times, but it's hard to stop reading.
Gale Hawthorne, the latest minion Katniss picked up in her poaching, visits him before the train leaves. His manner is very hush-hush and tense, as though he were about to dispense lurid gay pornography rather than what Peeta expects: sound advice and a request to save Katniss from death by luck-of-draw.
What he says instead: "You know, Katniss is a bitch."
Peeta's jaw energetically meets the floor. Yes, he may have known this particular inclination of Katniss, in theory anyway, but Gale has hardly picked the right time to abandon ship. "I'm sorry but what?"
"She is," Gale the Defector forges on with more certainty than ever. When he mistakes Peeta's poleaxed expression for a smile of fond agreement, he relaxes and begins to pace in a predatory way that doesn't help Peeta's nerves at all. Subtracting Katniss from the equation, what he knew of the man couldn't fill a meatpie. For all he knew, Gale is out to murder him. "That's why you have got to go after her with everything you have."
That, hilariously enough, was what Peeta had been doing. Go after her with everything he has. In the opposite context.
"Excuse me?"
"Catnip," – Catnip? – "She's a Bitch because she has to be. But she also has this...latent...bleeding heart complex...big damn hero...guilt...kindness gravitation thing, must be the half-merchant in her" Gale spits the phrases as though they offended the tongue intensively. "You have got to make her hate you."
The selfish part of Peeta roars in outrage, but as his selfishness is mortifyingly small, he concedes that, despite Gale's hard-as-nails reputation – which should brook not a whit of sixteen-year-old-girl psychology – the man understands best the intricacies of Katniss' mind. Her spirit twin. Half her soul. Whatever other metaphysical analogy.
"She'll kill you, for sure, hope you don't mind," states Gale, with trademark directness. His hands seem to move in smooth perpetual motion, as befits his name, proving that he is bumbling desperately. "She'll kill you but she won't like it and she can't afford even that. In the Arena, Catnip has to be the biggest bitch she can be."
Peeta pretends to understand and refrains from citing his own pacifist but ultimately suicidal notions.
"So," Gale claps his hands together. "Fight her. Don't help her. Don't jerk her around just because she's weak for merchant hair and little girls. You'll get her killed."
Peeta thinks there might be an insult there somewhere, around litte girls, but chooses not to comment on it. "I won't."
Gale softens a tad. "In any case, Peeta Mellark, I'm thankful and I'm sorry. You've always liked Catnip, didn't you?" He blows out a breath and chuckles grimly. "Tragic."
"Yeah," Peeta snorts, even if nothing is remotely funny, or even lucid, about the situation. "Not your fault. I was at a geographic disadvantage. But, hey..."
Gale looks up expectantly. Peeta clears his throat nervously.
"Is it true, do you really still make blonde jokes in the Seam?"
His eyes glaze over. A corner of Gale's lips curled up in the manner of a brazen liar. "Of course not."
the collective sanity
Pairing: Katniss/Peeta, Johanna/Gale, various other canonical and OC pairings
Length: ~14k words
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: FFN
Why this must be read: Part District 12 genealogy, part character study, and part light crack, "the collective sanity" is both like and unlike any other THG fic you've read. It's frank and funny and will twist your gut at times, but it's hard to stop reading.
Gale Hawthorne, the latest minion Katniss picked up in her poaching, visits him before the train leaves. His manner is very hush-hush and tense, as though he were about to dispense lurid gay pornography rather than what Peeta expects: sound advice and a request to save Katniss from death by luck-of-draw.
What he says instead: "You know, Katniss is a bitch."
Peeta's jaw energetically meets the floor. Yes, he may have known this particular inclination of Katniss, in theory anyway, but Gale has hardly picked the right time to abandon ship. "I'm sorry but what?"
"She is," Gale the Defector forges on with more certainty than ever. When he mistakes Peeta's poleaxed expression for a smile of fond agreement, he relaxes and begins to pace in a predatory way that doesn't help Peeta's nerves at all. Subtracting Katniss from the equation, what he knew of the man couldn't fill a meatpie. For all he knew, Gale is out to murder him. "That's why you have got to go after her with everything you have."
That, hilariously enough, was what Peeta had been doing. Go after her with everything he has. In the opposite context.
"Excuse me?"
"Catnip," – Catnip? – "She's a Bitch because she has to be. But she also has this...latent...bleeding heart complex...big damn hero...guilt...kindness gravitation thing, must be the half-merchant in her" Gale spits the phrases as though they offended the tongue intensively. "You have got to make her hate you."
The selfish part of Peeta roars in outrage, but as his selfishness is mortifyingly small, he concedes that, despite Gale's hard-as-nails reputation – which should brook not a whit of sixteen-year-old-girl psychology – the man understands best the intricacies of Katniss' mind. Her spirit twin. Half her soul. Whatever other metaphysical analogy.
"She'll kill you, for sure, hope you don't mind," states Gale, with trademark directness. His hands seem to move in smooth perpetual motion, as befits his name, proving that he is bumbling desperately. "She'll kill you but she won't like it and she can't afford even that. In the Arena, Catnip has to be the biggest bitch she can be."
Peeta pretends to understand and refrains from citing his own pacifist but ultimately suicidal notions.
"So," Gale claps his hands together. "Fight her. Don't help her. Don't jerk her around just because she's weak for merchant hair and little girls. You'll get her killed."
Peeta thinks there might be an insult there somewhere, around litte girls, but chooses not to comment on it. "I won't."
Gale softens a tad. "In any case, Peeta Mellark, I'm thankful and I'm sorry. You've always liked Catnip, didn't you?" He blows out a breath and chuckles grimly. "Tragic."
"Yeah," Peeta snorts, even if nothing is remotely funny, or even lucid, about the situation. "Not your fault. I was at a geographic disadvantage. But, hey..."
Gale looks up expectantly. Peeta clears his throat nervously.
"Is it true, do you really still make blonde jokes in the Seam?"
His eyes glaze over. A corner of Gale's lips curled up in the manner of a brazen liar. "Of course not."
the collective sanity