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Author has written 13 stories for Hunger Games.
My name is Jenn and I am a mere 18 years old.
Things I am still working on:
I aim to please you and love each and every one of you. Thank you for your oodles of support. Also on that note, these are just fics. Please don't feel the need to tear me down if you don't like something. I love criticism, honestly, I just don't appreciate being personally attacked for a story. Help me get better.
I am always writing!
Future fanfics one day or another include:
"Are you good at anything?”
She tilts her head to look at me and I instantly retract my gaze. I do what she had done, staring out the window and watching the trees zip by. Just a few more hours until we’re in the big city with its blinding lights and desperate citizens. I stiffen at the thought.
“The piano,” she answers. My eyes flicker up to her and I see her lips curling upward. My frown deepens. “It was a joke,” she eventually adds.
“It wasn’t funny.”
“Apparently not,” she hums. Madge returns to staring out the window.
“Undersee,” Gale places his hand on her shoulder and pulls her toward him before she gets too far. The sound of her voice has sent him into a panic. “What do you mean something happened?” She quickly runs her hands over her eyes and shakes her head again. “Madge.”
“I went to the doctor,” she whispers. He has to strain to hear her voice and yet at the same time it feels as though she’s yelling. Her words hit him harder than a train. He stumbles backwards, shaking his head. But she nods. And her eyes are filled with tears. And she looks so small. “I don’t… I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do and—” her chin quivers.
Gale drops his gaze to her stomach.
"This good is bad and bad is good game doesn't make any sense," her camper grumbles. "How can Mr. Abernathy be good?" Madge shrugs and laughs, watching the faces of all her campers trying to figure out the riddle. "What's Gale?"
"Mr. Gale," Madge corrects them. She'll never understand the teenage infatuation with Gale Hawthorne. "Is bad."
Their eyebrows lift playfully. "Really?" Shay asks, "Because I think he's really good." Madge shoots them a look and they dissolve into giggles. "We're just kidding, Ms. Madge. Besides, he's way too old for us."
"That he is," Madge agrees. Way too old.
"He said he has a girlfriend anyway. And by the way you get so angry whenever we mention him I'll bet I know who it is."
“How come I’ve never called you pretty before?” Gale asks. His breath reeks of liquor and Madge can’t help but smirk. “You’re real pretty, Undersee. Why’d I never tell you that?”
“Maybe it’s because you’re still in love with Katniss,” she answers immediately. Gale rolls his eyes and takes a step closer. He leans over her on his forearm and smiles sleepily. Gale’s eyes linger on Madge’s lips and she finds herself frowning. “Don’t you dare try and kiss me, Hawthorne.”
“I’m not in love with Katniss,” he says. Gale leans in to her and his eyes lift back to hers. “I swear it, I’m not. Haven’t been for a while, Undersee.” Still he eyes her mouth. “Just one little kiss?”
He frowns and tilts away but still keeps his arm above her. “Maybe later?”
“Wear the red one,” she says, pointing to the ties. Madge marches over to the mirror and reaches down for some lipstick. “That way we’ll match.” With a grumble Gale yanks the tie off of the stand. He spends a few minutes staring at his reflection trying to teach himself how to tie a tie, but after a few moments of being unable to get the thing knotted correctly Madge frowns. She drops her lipstick on the counter and spins around to face him. “How long have we been doing this?” she mutters.
“Too long,” Gale snaps back. Madge rolls her eyes and finishes his tie with ease.
Six months two weeks and four days.
That’s how long they’ve been doing this. And Gale still doesn’t know how to tie his own damn tie.
Of course there are other things that he’s been a bit more concerned with, such as the Underground, or maybe the few remaining Loyalists or Extremists. But no, Madge has to scold him for a tie.
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