The Hunger Games - Blog Posts
The one reason this is a yes from me is because she was able to pull the trigger on pete. She’s able to do what has to be done.
Submitted by @the-spaced-out-ace
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Tribute Name: Stephanie "Steph" Lauter
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just saw a tiktok that said “me when two characters can be compared to jesus and judas” and I was trying to look in my mind for an example but I just couldn’t. So I decided to open the comments… the first comment I read was “sejanus and coryo" GOODBYE! THAT WAS ENOUGH! THANK YOU!
When Snow calls Lucy Gray "my girl": 😖😤🤬🤮🤮
When Haymitch calls Lenore Dove "my girl": 😊🥰😍😁✨
Wyatt Callow is the kind of guy who gives his friends flowers.
"Louella is my one and only sweetheart"
I wrote a fanfic about the day of the reaping, narrated by Maysilee. And I'm so proud!!! I only showed it to my sister, but I'm really happy hahaha and Idk I think I just wanted people on the internet to know (I'm not proud enough to post it now...)
But I really liked my Maysilee's POV fanfic, maybe I post it someday.
When Maysilee asks Haymitch if Merrilee will still be twins when she dies >>>>
I have a twin sister and I say: Yes, we will always be twins
I'm convinced that Snow was the one who came up with the "rule change" in THG (idc what the movie did with it--they didn't know TBOSAS and it was less than convincing they way they did it).
Just think about it. We start off the Games with Katniss's courageous action volunteering for her younger sister. Then Peeta did something radical. He decided to follow through on his declaration of love to Katniss and did everything he could in the arena to save her. Getting sponsors, teaming up with the Careers, getting Katniss to leave and fighting Cato for her. Can you imagine what that was doing in the Capitol? In the Districts? How could you watch someone do that and not hope for a happy ending, even as Peeta lay dying in the mud, whispering Katniss's name?
And then Katniss teams up with Rue and is devastated by her death. She stays with her, sings to her, until she dies. Bolstered by Peeta's words about not being a piece in their games and finally getting what he means, she decorates Rue with flowers. She honors her life and her unnecessary death. District 11 recognizes this and even though they have another tribute alive in the Games, send Katniss the bread.
In Snow's mind, everything about the games is starting to crack. Young love being selfless, sisterly affection defying the Capitol, comradery fostering between districts. He simply can't let it go on. He has to remind people in the Capitol and the Districts that this is not human nature. He is going to prove that. So he tells Seneca Crane to announce the rule change.
He expects Cato and Clove to make it to the final two. In their new advantage, they will become a deadly, mostly healthy team. Meanwhile, Snow can see that Katniss doesn't hold the same care for Peeta that he does for her (she had tried to kill him with tracker jackers, after all). Even if she goes to find him, she'll abandon him once it gets too hard, too dangerous. The hope of love triumphing will be met with annoyance at his injuries and agreeing to stay behind and not get his medicine. And even if she does, he'll still be too injured to truly be useful.
But things go awry. Thresh saves Katniss because of her kindness to a little girl he, too, saw as a younger sister. He kills Clove, bringing about Cato's wrath. And Katniss Everdeen turns out to be a better actress than expected.
No matter, though--once the rule change is revoked, the truth of the stripped-down human nature will come out. Oh, Peeta will throw out the ravings of a teenage boy high on hormones, but people will remember how awful they truly are when Katniss puts an arrow through his heart. After all, Snow's made that decision before. His lover or himself. Death in the woods or life with riches in the Capitol. It's easy, really, to make that decision. And people will remember even the best among them, even she who willingly risked her life to get medicine or volunteer for her sister, won't avoid killing in order to survive herself.
But Katniss calls their bluff, and Peeta goes along with it. They've chosen to protest the Hunger Games with their deaths. Seneca makes the call to announce two winners. Really, Snow was going to kill him either way. Someone has to be publicly accountable for the place he's in now, and Snow certainly isn't going to take credit for his idea. After this, he tries and tries to get Peeta and Katniss to have to kill each other. The Quarter Quell. The hijacking. But it never works. And not just because of them, but because a whole nation finally stands up and says Enough. We won't let this go on anymore. In the end, Snow was entirely wrong because he never truly understood love.
I hate that I'm a mutishipper sometimes because when people ask "what's your favorite hg ship?" Its like, I dont fucking know! Im trying to figure out but I keep finding more ships.
So anyway here's a list of my favorite ships
Haymitch x Effie
Clove x Cato
Katniss x Peeta
Peeta x Finnick
Finnick x Annie
Annie x Johanna
Johanna x Katniss
Clove x Glimmer
Marvel x Glimmer
Enobaria x Cashmere
Coin x Snow
Foxface x Katniss (don't ask because idk)
Effie x Mahogany
from the beginning she was aching for family comfort and when she got it at the end people where suddenly against it?? like okay she was political she wanted equality for all but when all that resolved she finally got to have the family she always strived for and provide them with a life completely different from the one she grew up in and idk that seems pretty feminist to me couldn’t have been a better ending imo
“I hate the way The Hunger Games ended with Katniss forced into a typical domestic life … she shouldn’t have ended up with Peeta … it would have been more feminist if she didn’t end up with anybody”
like okay President Snow I didn’t know you were active on social media
I have the headcanon that Katniss’ kids keep bunnies as pets and one day, one of them dies from old age. That evening Katniss serves him up for dinner (food is food) and all hell breaks loose. The kids scream and cry, Peetah desperately tries to calm them down and Haymitch falls off his chair from laughing so hard while Katniss grumbles about how she doesn’t understand what they are on about.
After reading the Epilogue this headcanon is just cemented into my brain. I love her, but Katniss-I-tried-to-drown-my-sisters-cat-Everdeen would be fun to watch as a mother.
FINALLY finished sunrise on the reaping...
I'll be dumping a lot of thoughts on her soon
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.
do you know how miserable and tragic your life has to be to say that katniss everdeen is luckier than you and be correct
Wolf by Wolf by Ryan Graudin
Man oh man oh man oh man OH MAN OH MAN. This book was ammmmaaazzzziinnnngggggg. So good. Wow. Five stars. Fiver.
Let me break it down for you. So let’s pretend that Hitler and the Axis powers never actually lost WWII. IN FACT, they won and slowly began taking over the world, filling it with death camps and just lots more death. Enter Yael. She and her mother were taken to a camp, and Yael became the subject of some extremely nasty German experiments. Unfortunately for the Germans, the experiments that were just supposed to change the pigment of Yael’s skin to that trademark Aryan White actually gave her the ability to skinshift, i.e. the ability to change all aspects of her appearance.
Fast forward ten years, and Yael has found the perfect opportunity for revenge. Every year the Third Reich hosts a cross-continental motorcycle race to commemorate their great victory, and the prize is an audience with Mr. Adolf Hitler himself. Yael only has to enter the race as Adele Wolf, the only racer and person Hitler has ever let close to him, win it, and then kill Hitler. Easy Peasy!
Unfortunately killing Hitler is not as easy as that, especially when Adele’s older, overly-protective brother Felix enters the race, along with past love interest Luka–two people who know Adele PRETTY well. WOWWWW.
Let me further break this down for you:
Alternate history!
Sci-fi skinshifting!
Super attractive love interest with murky past!
Hunger Games-like competition that pits teens against one another at the expense of their safety and lives!
Knife fights, and fist fights, and gun fights, oh my!
Death
Basically everything you could ever want from a YA.
ALSO let me just say that Yael is the most badass girl I have ever encountered. She puts Katniss Everdeen TO SHAME. She’s super complex, cares a lot about people, and has trained to KILL HITLER. idk what else you could really want.
I am also going to add that I have an extremely awful habit of reading the ends of books before actually finishing them (I am fully aware that this is shameful bye). I did that while reading this book. I WAS STILL COMPLETELY BLINDSIDED BY THE ENDING. Don’t ask me how that happens, idk. And predicting endings is kind of my job (editor over here y’all). Surprise endings don’t really happen for me anymore. But this IS an alternate history with skinshifting and motorcycle races, so what really could I have predicted lol
Read this book. It’s amazing.
~Melissa, Book Wench
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.
When they haunt the narrative:
One of my favourite dumb but funny moments in fantasy/sci-fi books or shows is when everything from the characters, the locations, the houses, to the animals have crazy weird names, like fantasy names that are basically just a bunch of syllables smooshed together, but then one of the main characters or even the main character has the stupidest real life name ever.
My favourite example: the Dune series. All the weirdest names under the sun for everything in that series and then one of the main characters name is Paul. Like why is his name Paul?? (i know there is actual story reasons for it but still) One of the worst white boy names ever imo. His last name is Atreides, and his first name is Paul?? Like we were apparently smart enough up to that point to comprehend all the other weird names but the main character had to be the most recognizable basic name ever. Like come on.
Hilarious and infuriating at the same time.
This defeatist attitude of "well it is what it is, gofundmes will keep stagnating and won't work" will push people away from trying to organize anything and those who are sitting on their hands will get one more affirmation that this is a lost cause. Palestinians are literally dying! Need I remind you that these fundraisers are their lifelines?? It has been repeatedly said that if someone cannot donate, then they should at least boost and that means more than just reblogging-> posting on other social media/ sending it to group chats/ sending it to your family, friends, colleagues etc to seek out potential donors. There is more than one way to help...Anyway I got this comment under a post I made for Siraj Abudayeh. Idk what else to say except to request you to not be complacent, as this harms him and every other Gazan who is fundraising to survive.
Donate and if you can't then boost. We have to get to 60k by tomorrow.
[ Vet at 219 ] [ art raffle + zine ]
Katniss and Haymitch are both pretty much solely motivated by community (protecting family, friends, people they deem vulnerable). The difference is in the ways that rebellion comes naturally to them.
Katniss’ rebellion are, for lack of a better word, “passive” acts of love. Building a burial for Rue, speaking to Rue’s and Thresh’s families, trying to save Peeta with the berries, etc.
Haymitch tends towards more “active” acts. Blowing up the water tank, driving the chariot to face off against Snow. While his rebellious acts diminished after the games, this pattern of “active/offensive” over “passive/defensive” becomes exacerbated when he shuts himself off from people.
Throughout the books, Katniss has to learn to be more “active/offensive” in becoming the mockingjay. Haymitch has to relearn the “passive/defensive” by opening himself up to Katniss and Peeta.
Despite their differences in how they naturally rebel, they are both so similar in that community and love are their motives. Katniss really is Haymitch but luckier. This book also proves how important luck is to a rebellion (even though we may not want it to be). In addition to luck, persistence is also necessary.
the war outside our door keeps raging on hold onto this lullaby even when the music’s gone, g o n e
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.
What about a Finnick Odair / Reader in a modern world where there’s no hunger games. What do you think they’re dynamic would be like
you take your eyes off the water, only to be met with the same blue, crashing and pulling in his eyes. the tanned skin around the corners of the distinct aquamarine hue crinkles as a result of his toothy grin, and he holds up a porcelain white conch to your ear, beckoning you to listen to the idle chatters of the sea. you laugh and comply, leaning into it to immerse yourself in the sound.
you could only describe finnick as whimsical in moments like these.
after an afternoon of surfing (or ‘taming the waters’ as he likes to call it), he prefers to end your day at the beach in a way he knows would get a laugh out of you in order to end it perfectly. because that’s what his perfect day consists of; you, and the sea.
you try to focus on the conch pressed up to your ear, but the way the setting sun shines on him is so magnificent, it’s almost cinematic. his hair is messy and coarse from the saltwater, and so prettily hangs along his forehead. a piercing dangles from his right ear, the gold pleated material complimenting the matching skin it’s against so well, differentiated only by the meticulously arranged freckles adorning him.
you continue to stare into his eyes as your body currently believed that sight is more important than sound, and each inch of him you admire leads you to believe he must’ve been a merman in a past life. maybe this one, too. he’s full of surprises.
finnick pulls the conch back and slightly raises an eyebrow, smile never faltering, taking you in just as much as you’ve been very obviously doing to him.
“so? amazing, right?” he asks, bringing his other hand out to tuck a sandy strand behind your ear, letting it linger.
you take a second to respond, still so entranced and too in love, completely blanking on the fact that his question was directed towards the songs of the water that he wanted to share, and not himself.
“beautiful… so, so beautiful.”
finnick chortles at your answer and proceeds to do what he does best, diving in to plant an energetic, yet soft kiss on your lips.
“come on, ariel.” you say as you break the kiss a few seconds in. “we’ve got to meet johanna for ice cream in an hour. race you home?”
the term ‘peacekeeper’ left a bitter taste in sejanus’s mouth. something in contrast to the gumdrops he used to carry around as fresh meat in the capitol. he recognized the irony of the two words strung together in panem’s climate, and thought it to be completely ridiculous. this isn’t the occupation he wanted to spend his days in district 12 pursuing, but he needed to start somewhere. dreams of becoming a medic bloom inside him, and he is optimistic both he and the blond he followed outside the capitol will live out the rest of their lives in contentment. in doing good. in change.
the cup in sejanus’s hand feels light, and he plays around with it as he watches coriolanus’s expression change from anticipation, to shock, then a third thing he can’t quite place, but can only discern due to the way the shaven blond clenches his jaw, as the covey’s performance commences at the hob.
the audience cannot be contained as lucy gray proceeds to weave through melodies, from rhythm to rhythm, song to song, strumming her guitar and bantering with tipsy inhabitants of the hob, cheering her on and clapping to the beat. he glances at coriolanus from time to time, whose gaze on the songbird never falters, intense and burning, a ghost of a smug smile on his face as if to say, ‘yes, you’re all cheering on my girl’.
there’s a small intermission between the first and second half of the covey’s act, and sejanus finds his feet walking him to get another drink. his tolerance is somewhat average, and he figures he can at least catch up to the rest of the audience in terms of intoxication. a full day of ‘peacekeeping’ awaits him tomorrow, after all, which the brunett is absolutely dreading.
the clear liquor fills his cup, face scrunching at the strong smell wafting from it as he brings his head down to sip from the top before it trickles down to his fingers. sejanus closes his eyes to regain his composure after tasting the liquor. this wasn’t like anything he has had at the capitol. it’s too strong, too raw, and the tiniest swig has gotten his cheeks rosy and his fingertips buzzing.
he turns to walk back to the crates the other peacekeepers have settled on, but crashes into you instead, the liquid in his hand spilling somewhat, and begins to apologize profusely.
“steady there, big boy, i don’t think you should be drinkin’ more”, you giggle, bringing a hand on his shoulder to stabilize him.
“no, i—” sejanus looks up at you, his words caught in his throat as he catches your eyes. once he realizes it’s probably odd to just stare at you silently, he begins to speak again.
“uhm.. this is my second drink.” he smiles shyly, lifting his cup for you to see, as if worried that you’d doubt him.
“doesn’t look like it, but it does look like you’re enjoyin’ the show.” the brunett nods quickly in agreement, feeling himself just wanting you to continue speaking to him. “or at least that’s what it looked like from up on stage.”
sejanus takes a brief pause, this time, examining you, however accurate a tipsy person could. your golden hoop earrings, colorful eye shadow, and finally, the feathers in your hair. he doesn’t miss the way your cheeks glow under the dim lights of the hob too, and he thinks it envelops your face like a halo.
“oh you’re… performing? you’re in the covey?” the plan to go back to his seat disappears from his mind in half a second, deciding that he would much prefer standing here with you and bask in the way your voice sounds.
“awh, didn’t notice me up there? hurts…” you fake a pout, glancing down at your shoes to fight the smile growing on your face as sejanus begins to stutter nervously. “kidding, kidding. yes, darlin’, i am. just needed a drink before the next half. swear, alcohol just makes me play better.” you point at his cup, continuing, “that shit is so strong it’ll make you take back shit you never even stole.”
sejanus lets out a belly laugh, the warmth from his cheeks spreading to his chest, and he doesn’t think he can still blame it on the liquor. the thought that you noticed him in the crowd long enough to remember his face made his nape itch, and he wrestles the urge to scratch it.
“yeah, i just tried it for the first time. curious to see how tonight’ll end after this cup.” he takes another sip, this time bigger than the first, and he can’t place whether it’s because he wants to impress you or wants to get drunk faster, but the way you giggle again at his scrunched up face makes it worth it. he groans at the aftertaste almost comically, looking up at you again, brown irises barely seen from the way his soft smile reaches his eyes.
“i’m sejanus, by the way.”
you bring your hand out for a formal shake, and that too makes him laugh. he repeats your name as soon as you say it, wanting to feel the syllables on his tongue. they’re sweet. your name, like all the members of the covey, contains a specific hue, one which he’s sure he’ll always associate with you after tonight.
the dim lights flash, and he watches you turn around to give maude ivory a thumbs up.
“that’s the cue, pretty boy, gotta head back up now. cheer for me?” your tone is so entrancing, and sejanus finds himself nodding before he can even verbally reply.
“of course. louder than everybody.” with that, you flash him an enthusiastic grin. so pretty, so full of life. he walks back to the crates, now disregarding coriolanus, but understanding why his stare was so fervent on lucy gray. in a room full of people, you’re performing for him.
currently no creative juices flowing.
request anything you’d like please! i’m open to writing about any character from all 4 books :)
can i just throw something out very quickly:
firebender!coriolanus snow, who aims to become fire lord someday (using methods deemed too cunning, although he refers to himself as ‘resourceful’). he utilizes his words to beguile his peers into loyalty, saving his firebending for times that call to instill red hot fear and discipline.
coriolanus has a strong distaste towards his classmate, sejanus plinth, who he adjudges too ‘animalistic’ and ‘grotty’ to live among firebenders, yet finds the airbending nomad he is to mentor alluring and mystical. the blond especially dislikes sejanus’ foolish rambles about how he wishes to become a healer someday, as he himself knows that the minute the brunet was born an earthbender, that dream was over, so surely sejanus must know that too?
he slightly looks down on his nonbender cousin, tigris, who has truthfully kept the two of them alive through scavenging and foraging for food, sewing up intricate outfits for him to fit in with the upper class atmosphere of the academy and keep up appearances.
for his final assignment to establish himself as the star student of the academy’s senior class, he must figure out a scheme to ensure that the airbender, his airbender, is kept alive when put in an arena with 23 other tributes, some honing their bending for years. coriolanus is aware that her only way out is through cheating on his part, but won’t that deem him as a traitor? if he’s not careful, he too will find himself trapped in an arena. air can very well live on without fire, but that same fire will extinguish without the presence of air.