Sunrise On The Reaping - Blog Posts

still trying to read sunrise on the reaping bc a certain person roped me into reading out loud and that person doesn't want us to read it fast

So yeah we're only in chapter 4 and avoided spoilers is insanely hard bc I want to see everythin

help

thank you so much fellow annie fan

hello

Welcome to the 2nd Quarter Quell and the 50th annual Hunger Games!!

And May the Odds be Ever in Your Favour.

Welcome to the 2nd Quarter Quell and the 50th annual Hunger Games!!

And May the Odds be Ever in Your Favour.

I'm gonna tell my kids this was Sunrise On the Reaping

i love her your honour

do you know how miserable and tragic your life has to be to say that katniss everdeen is luckier than you and be correct

Someone used Travis/Kevin Alves as a face claim in an edit for young Haymitch and i absolutely love the idea cause he’s sorta how I imagine young Haymitch in the book, specially his look in Yellowjackets.

O sweet november,

your winds gale, akin to the melancholy you carry.

a distinct smell of cedar-wood and fir fights to mask the notes of vomit and white liquor wafting through the home of the ash black haired man who rests disheveled on the couch, bottle tightly clutched in hand.

it’s more charcoal under this light, you think as you take your coat off and notice how the dim lighting darkens his hair a shade or two. you hang your coat and make your way to the fireplace, long accustomed to the gag inducing stench of the place. you've also grown accustomed, no, fond of haymitch abernathy. ever since you lost an impromptu bet to him at the hob upon meeting which declared you personal housecleaner for a week, he decided he liked the few times his home did not look like a rat feast. and so, he started paying you for it, and you began to visit more often.

this was a personal record, though. you came by the victor's village just two days ago to continue this routine, yet the smell you so diligently scrubbed and disinfected layers of had returned. haymitch wouldn't notice the difference in odour, though. the alcohol he associates with cleanliness smells the same as the alcohol he seeks to dirty himself.

throwing two more logs into the dying fire, you turn to the noiret. if there's one thing you've learned through your visits, it is that haymitch looks more peaceful awake. maybe peaceful is not the word. relaxed. there is a certain scowl that pulls on his features when he's asleep, as if he's living an entirely different life in his dreams. haunting, torturous dreams. his breathing is deep, his snores heavy.

you mindlessly retrieve the bottle he's got a vice grip on to set on the table, but the loss of it jolts haymitch awake, bringing his other hand concealed under the pillow out, slashing the air with a kitchen knife. this has you jumping back with a scream, falling to the floor. luckily, the knife did not claim you.

"fuck!" you breathe out between pants. "what the fuck was that?!"

haymitch is also panting, his grey eyes wide. a tinge of a desperation you can't place behind them. appearing dangerous for the first time in a while. upon registering your face, the knife drops to his side, and his features slightly soften, but the feeling this has instilled in him, or rather the memories evoked, are still there. you can tell by the inhuman dilation of his pupils, his hands shaking.

"shit, are you... are you okay?" he asks, caught between reaching out for you or letting you gather yourself. letting you piece together what he is. letting you finally understand why this big estate houses only him.

"who the hell sleeps with a knife under their pillow? that was so fucking close, haymitch! and why does your house stink already, i just cleaned it two days ago!" you know you shouldn't be yelling at him like this, piling it all on, but your heart is still trying to re-enter your chest. the adrenaline has gotten to both of you. haymitch slumps back on the couch, head in his hands, not able to look at you or the knife. his body is still trembling, and it is clearly not from the cold that november has brought over. as you pick yourself up, you hear haymitch's voice, hoarse, small,

"two days... for two days." he says. his mouth is partially covered by his palms, so the words come out muffled.

"what?"

"you didn't come for two days." haymitch repeats, putting his hands down to look up at you with an expression that throws all of your anger out the window. pure woe. his curly hair looked utterly frazzled, gaze begging to look away in shame but needing to drink you up. oh, how that is the only thing he knows to do. you weren't sure if the glossy reflection threatened tears, or was simply an adverse affect of his nighttime drinking routine, and you did not want to know. both answers you could not bear. both answers highlighted the deprivation that follows haymitch like a shadow.

you didn't dare touch the knife. instead, you again try to set the bottle on the table, most of its contents now spilled. raw and distilled. something else you'll have to clean up. "i've got other jobs, you know. can't just live off of this." you finally look back at him. a little playful at first, then solemn. "that made you drink more?"

"no, just... i got used to having you around. my voice doesn't echo in the room as much when you're here." the noiret smooths his hair out. rubs his eyes. fixes his sleeves. anything to look collected. he wordlessly slides the knife back under the pillow when you go to bring a mop, and pretends to fluff it when you come back.

"i'll always be around, haymitch. you need to take care of yourself more though, okay? i still worry for you like all-fire." this stiffens every limb, joint, and muscle in haymitch's control as though a blizzard has teared down the roof. his hands clench into fists before flexing instinctively to reach for the bottle once again, the tremor in them not abandoned. has not been abandoned in a long time. you finish cleaning up the spill and turn on your heel to put the mop back, and haymitch's last-second decision is to instead grab your wrist. his latest liquor of choice.

"no. stay." he pleads. two words. so much said. the pauses, the breathing, the tone. his voice hitches at the end, and his entire body is leaning forward, engulfed by yearning, but kept at a distance as to not cross any invisible lines he has drawn between you. lines that his hand has already overstepped.

“i’ve got the rest of the house to clean, i can’t—“

“the mess will still be here tomorrow. please.”

how can a boy so familiar with poison and punishment allow history to repeat itself? allow this feeling to overtake him again, and subjecting you to it? because he is a selfish rascal. haymitch knew that. it has been so long since he reached his hands out for something other than a drink or a knife. so roughly he has wrestled to keep this submerged within, barely floating; the warmth that radiates off another human being, and not just the fireplace in his house that on most days, he could not even look at.

haymitch doesn't say another word, but his grip does not falter. he awaits. and awaits and awaits. seemingly all he does. all he is good at. all he can do. people have so hastily come in and out of his life, he no longer can fathom object permanence. if he is not touching you, you will leave. disappear. another mourning dove cooing in his night terrors.

you perch the mop's stick against the table and settle next to haymitch. "of course. always." you whisper. and you sound so sure of this declaration that his head dizzies and his chest tightens with an ache that will never part from him.

haymitch drops his head to your shoulder. maybe from exhaustion, maybe from grief. you don't know. you don't ask. he will come around. and maybe sometime in the future, he can find a way to commemorate this grief and pass it. a safer future. a future where he no longer feels the need to sleep with a knife under his pillow.

Wip!! But I couldn’t get it out my head (never drawn them before so ignore that they look odd)

Is anyone going to take one for the team and write a breakfast club style au of SotR or will I just have to do it myself💔

(Please tell me someone else sees the vision)

Is anyone going to take one for the team and write a breakfast club style au of SotR or will I just have to do it myself💔

(Please tell me someone else sees the vision)

Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins (2025) The Saddest Chapters [3/?] Chapter 2 The moment our hearts shattered? It belongs to us.

Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins (2025)

The Saddest Chapters [4/?] Chapter 21 "Always," I say without hesitation, imaging Sid watching us. I hope he won't think of himself as an only child. Chapter 26 There's a bad moment when I look up and see my ally, wearing her District 12 black, and start for her. "Maysilee!" Her face crumples into tears, hides in handkerchief. Not Maysilee. Merrilee. Like as two peas in a pod.

the casting director for sunrise on the reaping deserves the most mouth watering head out there bro

WDYM MAYA HAWKE IS WIRESS IM GOING TO CUM

oh I forget ampert is only 12 my heartttr

hihi. kill me

ok so pls stp🙏🙏

so you’re telling me that after what happened to louella/lou lou haymitch had to watch peeta come back from the capitol as a “mutt version of himself” and question whether the shell of a human with peeta’s face was even peeta at all

and he had to do all that SOBER???

oh fuckkkkk youuuu

the way the gun is kissing my head is insane

haymitch says himself katniss is like him, but luckier.

katniss realized the berries were nightlock before peeta ate them.

thanks to sherwood-scribblings for this, would repost but i don't want people to think i'm a haysilee or hayffie shipper

i need someone to explain lesbian maysilee to me because so many people so strongly believe in it, and i can sorta see it?? pleaseeee someone inject lesbian maysilee into my blood i want to get it so bad

crying over exactly 2 sotr edits at 2 am rn

oh i just know finishing sotr will make me cry...multiple times. i'm almost crying thinking about it please help

sotr is my favorite book because it's so fun/interesting to see how everything connects together. like snow being highkey offended at lenore dove's name, katniss's parents making a cameo, etc. "oh he knows that because of lucy gray!" "oh everdeen?" "oh my god katniss's mom actually has a personality." plus there are so many lore drops, haymitch yaps so much, we get a lot more information about d12 in the first three chapters than in the main trilogy.

oh also did i mention the lgbtq rep, and that maysilee, louella, wyatt, and lenore dove are all icons? i need to get geese now.

the only person who keeps an eye on me is effie trinket.

prints + merch + c0mmission info pinned to profile :)