#The Hunger Games: Snippets

[all-lines-on-paper]

Watching the 3rd Quarter Quell on telly…

Effie: (spotting something shiny on Finnick’s wrist) “Wait. Haymitch!! Is that the gold bracelet I gave you?!”

Haymitch: “Told you, I like my pretty with a purpose…”

[paperlit]

We as a fandom moved way too fast past this:

And this:

[bluemerakis]

. ݁ ⋆ ˚. MERA'S MASTERLIST ݁.˚ ⋆ ݁.

hello lovely people! welcome to my masterlist. my interests tend to fluctuate quite often, so i write for whoever i want, whenever i want—but typically when the obsession is the strongest lol. anyhoo, that being clarified, please enjoy whatever i’ve managed to spew out this far.

i. 𝚂𝚄𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙰𝙻 𖤐

ii. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙾𝚈𝚂 ⌖

iii. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝚄𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 ོ

iv. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻k𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 ☠︎

v. 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙲. 𝚆𝚁𝙸𝚃��𝙽𝙶 & 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 ˚. ݁ ~

⤷ © dividers @bluemerakis

[perigilpin]

fate always loses hold

Characters: Effie x Haymitch, Effie & Peeta, ( minor background Katniss x Peeta )

In the days leading up to the reaping for the third quarter quell, Effie makes a promise of her own.

[katnissandpeetamellark]

I’m giving them permission to twist the knife and cast someone who looks like the actor who plays sejanus to play Janus 🫶

[definitelynotshouting]

For the WIP game, would love to know what’s up with the angst for Calo <3

HELLO KAYA MY BELOVED FRIEND!!!!! i will GLADLY tell u abt the angst i cooked up for Calo >:]

Okay in reality this is a bit more hurt/comfort than just straight up angst, i just think its way funnier to call it that. Anyway, Calo gave me a little preview of this beautiful artwork before it got posted, and it gave me instant brainrot bc secret life perpetually does insane cocomelon shit to my head whenever i think abt it. I think i have 2 fics centered around it already and by gods with this one im gunning for a third.

The basic idea is just playing off of the dialogue already in the art, BUT!!! One of my favorite things in the world is when characters in disguise reveal things about themselves that they never would if they werent wearing some sort of mask. When Calo told me that Scar knew who Grian was but was pretending not to, i saw the world's best opportunity to do a little character prodding❤️🥰

85% of this fic is in script format, since i didnt want to lose the dialogue as it came to me-- but i do plan to write things out properly and post it, once i get the brain blast for it (so if youve been wondering why i havent reblogged it yet..... YEAH THATS WHY SKDNWKDJSK)

I dont wanna give too much away, but heres one of my favorite exchanges ive written in the dialogue:

[Silence as they pick their way over to TRADER SCAR’S] GRIAN: [abruptly] Do you like it here? SCAR: Sor— repeat that? GRIAN: Do you like it here. [Looking steadily at TRADER SCAR’S] You seem… happy. SCAR: … Well, there’s a word for it. [Slowly, testing the waters] I like building. I like the canvas, I suppose. [Carefully] What about you? GRIAN: [startled] Me? SCAR: Yes, you! I mean, surely you’ve got better things to do than hang about here, right? [A playful nudge] Any canvases of your own? GRIAN: … No. Nothing like that. SCAR: [blink blonk] You aren’t a winner? GRIAN: A what? SCAR: Why, a winner, of course! That’s what this place is for, isn’t it? For— [faltering] for winners? GRIAN: You call this a win? SCAR: It’s certainly not a loss.

Theres lots of little implications that arent explicitly on-script rn that i want to write in properly later, but the atmosphere around this conversation makes me WILD whenever i think abt it💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 pov the guy you love openly admits he does not see what happened in 3rd life as a win despite literally being here with the other winners. Pov the guy you love holds a grief so tight heay as well be pressurizing it into a diamond around his heart. IDK IT JUST DOES CRAZY SHIT TO ME WHEN GRIAN ROUNDABOUT ADMITS TO HIS GUILT AND HOW 3RD LIFE BROKE HIM!!!! GET FOREVER CHANGED BOY!!!! I AM GOING TO PEEL YOU LIKE A FREEKING LEMON!!!!!!!💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

[waywardangel-wilds]

You once posted about Peeta being a dandelion in the tags to one of my posts about him having frizzy curly hair in the Appalachian summers. And your Delly posts made me think of Delly meanly saying Peeta looks like that in the summer and Katniss taking it a totally different sweet way and excitedly agreeing to Peeta’s horror since he doesn’t understand Katniss’s background with dandelions yet.

Oh my gosh what a great question! Thank you so much for asking it! Yes I totally agree, I can even picture it:

“Don’t you just love the sun?” Delly sighs, leaning back to lay flat on the grass with her eyes closed. “God, I missed this.”

“You sun bathe a lot in the summer?” Katniss asks by her side, leaning up on her elbows.

“As much as I could. The only fun we ever had was between shifts right before the sun fully set.” She adjusts her ponytail so she can lie more comfortably. “Hey! Servant boy! Where’s my lemonade?”

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” Peeta grumbles from the kitchen door, but he brings the lemonades nonetheless. He hands Katniss her glass easily, but he shoves the next glass at Delly with an unintelligible grumble.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not very nice dandy head.” Delly smirks as she sits up to take a drink.

“You know what you remind me of?” He grins wide as he shucks off his shirt. “Something I drew with my left hand.”

“Ouch, I’m devastated.” Delly replies in monotone. “You’re still a dandelion head.”

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes, throwing himself on the grass next to Katniss. “Oh, I love grass.”

“Dandelion head?” Katniss asks.

“Yeah, just look at him. He’s like a yellow dandelion.” Delly smiles meanly at Peeta. “His hair is huge.”

“Shut up,” Peeta insists, although he keeps his eyes closed and face to the ground.

“Oh!” Katniss puts her hands to her mouth to contain her smile, but she can’t help it. She has to sit up. “You do look just like a yellow dandelion!”

“Ha!” Delly cries triumphantly meanwhile Peeta gasps, looking stricken, his wide eyes meeting Katniss’s gaze with horror.

“Katniss!” Peeta complains.

“I always thought you looked like a dandelion,” she confesses excitedly. “I did! I always think of you when I see one.”

“This is the best day of my life!” Delly snorts, rolling around on the grass as she succumbs to a fit of laughter. “Katniss Everdeen thinks Peeta’s a dandy head!”

“I am NOT a dandy head!” Peeta exclaims, sitting up himself with a deeply red face. He scoops some ice out of Katniss’s glass and throws it at his oldest friend, “shut up!”

“Dandy head, dandy head, Peeta is a dandy head!” Delly mocks, taking on a school yard rhythm.

[nibeul]

there’s a lot of talk about Snow seeing Lucy Gray in Katniss which is true to an extent, but I think there’s a gaping flaw with a 1:1 comparison and it’s this: if Snow truly saw Katniss as Lucy Gray, then he wouldn’t have spoken to her the way he did throughout the series. elaboration under the cut because I have a lot to say

the most interesting thing about snow and katniss’s dynamic is that snow, on some level, respects her because he believes she is like him. Lucy Gray did not have that respect from him—he said it himself that he did not expect her to win the game, but that he hoped she would be successful enough that her appeal to the audience would boost his own standing:

“Coriolanus had never really considered her a victor in the games. It had never been a part of his strategy to make her one. He had only wished that her charm and appeal would rub off on him and make him a success.”

and another quote that makes his feelings toward her clear:

“Here in the capitol, it was given that Lucy Gray belonged to him, as if she’d had no life before her name was called out in the reaping.”

to Snow, Lucy Gray was always a means to an end. he loved her in the sense that he loved the success she brought to him, in a deluded manner where the power and her existence went hand in hand. Lucy Gray’s existence to him was as a tool and something to own, not as an actual person, and when we look at Snow and Katniss, that distinction isn’t there. here’s a quote from Donald Sutherland (Snow) that I find really interesting:

“Katniss Everdeen is the first person who has excited Snow, who has stimulated him. By the time you get into the, maybe the end of the second one, he's in love with her. Not sexually. No, my God, no, no, no, no: he recognizes in her everything that he could have been.”

In Peeta and Katniss’s relationship, through the eyes of Snow, Katniss is him, and Peeta—who is charismatic, knows how to play to the people’s heart, charms the capitol, etc—compares better to Lucy Gray. Yes, Snow places himself in the shoes of Peeta when he asks Katniss when Peeta realized her indifference (as he felt Lucy was indifferent to him), but it really goes the other way around. To Katniss during the first game, Peeta was a tool for her survival. For Snow, Lucy Gray was a tool for his.

despite this comparison, however, Katniss and Peeta are not what Snow and Lucy Gray could have had, but rather what Snow never was; even though the love between Katniss and Peeta was used as a tool of survival during their first game together, they continue to stick by each other and look out for each other as things get rough. Katniss is a survivalist, like Snow views himself, but she is also caring and loving and these are attributes that Snow never had (but someone like Sejanus did). Snow believes that humans are naturally violent, and he believes Katniss is like him, hence why he tries to prove that Katniss and Peeta are not in love at every step of the way.

when he is finally convinced of their love, he then views it as a weakness and punishes Katniss for it. it’s likely he hoped Peeta would kill Katniss, but I would also argue that he wanted Katniss to turn on Peeta too as he turned on Lucy Gray—another effort to break this love that he saw and warp it into something else. ultimately, we know this is unsuccessful, and I think that’s why the final conversation he and Katniss have went the way it did; he had lost at both games, the game of politics to Coin (briefly, though obviously we know he gets the last laugh with this one), and this game of love and identity to Katniss. Katniss is everything he was not, and it was at this point that he finally respected her enough to acknowledge that he lost.

[anylouze]

Katniss Everdeen doesn’t fall in love. She starves for it.

Post-mockingjay. The first time she kisses Peeta after he comes back from the capitol.

canon-compliant. first person. denial-flavored.

Peeta’s eyelashes are too long. It’s annoying.

They don’t make sense — too soft for someone who’s burned like we have. They catch the sunlight, gold like dandelions, and I hate that I notice. I hate that I look. That I know the exact shade of them when his eyes are closed. I catch myself staring too long, again, and then I pretend I wasn’t.

And his hands — they still move like they remember peace. Like they don’t know about the bombs, or the tracker jacker venom, or what it’s like to strangle someone because your brain’s been rewired to think they’re the enemy. His thumb drags through the dough and I find myself tracking the motion, every press and turn. He always bakes like it means something. Like if he does it right, the world might make sense again.

I don’t think about his eyelashes. Or his hands.

Not really.

We’re just trying to stay alive in a house with peeling paint and ghosts in every room.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Except maybe I feel it again — that stupid, sharp ache low in my stomach. That thing I never had a name for. Not in the cave, when I pressed my mouth to his to keep us both breathing. Not in the arena, when he looked at me like I was the only thing left that mattered. I thought I was hungry back then, starving in a way food couldn’t fix.

Turns out, that kind of hunger comes back.

He offers me a piece of bread, warm and soft. His fingers brush mine and I freeze. He doesn’t flinch. Neither do I.

I should.

But I don’t.

I should say something. I don’t.

I kiss him instead.

It’s not careful. Not like the other times. Not for sponsors. Not to prove a point. Not because the Capitol is watching. It’s quiet. It’s real. That’s what terrifies me.

He’s still for half a second, then he kisses me back — like he’s been waiting, like he’s still unsure I’m real but doesn’t care. His hands slide up, not rushed, just… certain. And for a second I forget how to breathe.

I feel that same ache blooming in my chest and I hate it. I hate how much I want this. Want him. I want more, and I don’t even know what “more” means.

Then he pulls back.

He looks at me like I’m something fragile, something he doesn’t want to break.

And I — I sit back. Say nothing.

Because if I speak, I might admit something I can’t afford to know.

We’re just friends.

Or maybe less.

Maybe we’re just two people who keep kissing because we don’t know how else to say don’t leave me.

And maybe I want to kiss him again.

But I don’t.

I think about his eyelashes instead.

[ladeedade]

Finnick comes and visits me, and I think it's an even bigger mistake that they let him out so soon, but I don't tell him that. His hand shakes as he gives me a piece of bread he managed to steal from the cafeteria. I force it down for his sake but all I can think of is the bread Peeta gave me, all those days ago in the rain. It seems like a lifetime ago now. As soon as Finnick leaves I force myself to throw it back up and when the nurse sees the chewed up bread mixed with bile and stomach acid next to my bed she immediately checks my temperature. It is of course fine, because nothing that is wrong with me can be measured with thermometers and blood tests.

Will I finish this fic? Who knows! But here is a little snippet from my current hunger games wip that explores katniss and finnicks time in district 13 ✨

[friendlyneighbourhoodlizard]

so i finished sotr and i just wanna know: who hurt u suzanne? why would u put me through this?

[crazyness-overpowers]

there's a whole lot about how goddamn smart haymitch is. he's a kid from the seam, the poorest part of the poorest district, but he gets it. he has the idea to break the arena, he can read people and put things together even at his lowest (he's being put through intense mental turmoil and still figures out what lucy gray baird meant to snow, among other things). at least half his shit after the games can easily be interpreted as him playing it up as being worse to cover for what he actually wants to do. he knows he has to be seen as a non-starter in order to get anything done at this point. and it's so good

[capric0rnie]

🎃trick or treat! 👻

(Snippet form your practical magic AU?)

thank u for the ask !!!! this story is a monster and still unfinished but here is a cutie little snippet as a treat!!

“You’re wearing the jeans.”

I turned to look at Prim, who had peeked out from beneath the covers. “What? Yes, I’m wearing jeans.”

“No,” said Prim, sitting up slowly. “You’re wearing the jeans. The jeans that Johanna told you to buy because they make your butt look great. You never wear them because you think she’s ridiculous and you don’t want anyone looking at your butt. And that sweater! You never leave the top buttons undone. You usually make sure it’s closed tight all the way up to your neck.”

My cheeks flushed as I stared at myself in the mirror. Prim was being silly. I’d just put on the first pair of pants I’d seen, and the sweater… I was in a rush and didn’t feel like fastening all the buttons. No big deal. No deeper meaning. Had my hair looked this awful the entire time I spoke to Peeta Mellark?

I attacked the mess on my head with a brush, further delaying the inevitable. Prim opened her mouth to speak, but paused when the bedroom door creaked open to reveal Buttercup. He quickly jumped on the bed and meowed, nudging Prim’s hand with his head. Her eyes widened comically, and even though I couldn’t understand what Buttercup said, I had a pretty good guess what it might’ve been.

“Who’s here?”

That stupid cat had such a big mouth.

[notsocooljess]

Snippet Sunday

here's a snippet of the enemies to lovers fic i just started working on based on @thesweetnessofspring's mall santa peeta/elf katniss prompt that has plagued my thoughts since i read it lol

That was why Katniss found herself in the broom-closet-turned-office of Haymitch Abernathy, organizer of the West Panem Mall’s North Pole Experience photoshoots.

“Stand over there,” Haymitch pointed to the center of the room without so much as an introduction.

Katniss found this job through an ad listed on a local Facebook page. Potential Mrs. Claus’s Do Apply!, the title said. She didn't originally give it much thought as “Katniss” and “acting” were two words that were never meant to be strung in the same sentence unless the words “is bad at” were joining them together. But, when she saw the bolded word saying SEASONAL in the listing and the estimated wage to be twenty-two dollars an hour after tips, she sent in her application immediately.

“You’re not very big, are you?” Haymitch asked as he sized Katniss up, circling her like a vulture circles its prey. She scowled at him and his antics. “Or particularly pretty,” he huffed.

“Like you’re such a prize.”

“And from our brief conversation, I’d say you’ve got the personality of a dead slug.”

“How is that relevant?” Katniss barked. She wanted to get out of this room with Haymitch as quickly as possible. He didn’t creep her out – Katniss grew up around men like Haymitch and was plenty confident in her ability to hold her own – but the smell of booze emitting from his pores was nearly strong enough to bring up her lunch.

“Means you can’t play Mrs. Claus. You’re severely lacking in general warmth and motherly bosom.” 

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Well, then, thanks for wasting my time.”

“Hold it, sweetheart. I think I might have just the job for you,” Haymitch said, grabbing a different costume from the rack and placing it in Katniss’s hands.

“An elf? You want me to be an elf?”

“You think you can fit into a youth large?”

“You’re joking.”

“Youth medium it is then.”

“This is ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous would be making you wear fake pointy ears. Lucky for you, last year’s elf’s fake ears got chewed off by some rowdy lap rat-dog with an affinity for jumping.”

“I can’t be an elf. I’m five-foot-two!”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“Do you even want me to take this role?”

“Not like I recruited you, sweetheart. You applied for this job. An elf is your only option. You want it or not?”

Katniss bit her tongue, and her scowl deepened. Haymitch was right. With the holidays coming up, Katniss was in desperate need of some extra cash, and no other job that would hire her in such short notice would pay above minimum wage. 

“You promise an elf will get the same tips as a Mrs. Claus?”

“Trust me, they'll think you’re breaking child labor laws in this getup. You’ll make the most cash of the bunch.”

[fyreflys]

I’m on fall break…first year teaching has been beyond exhausting so far. Have had almost 0 free time 😅

Anyways, I’m writing a little bit today! Did someone ask for some comedy relief? Here’s a snippet from the final chapter of Swan Upon Leda :)

[definitelynotshouting]

Hunger!Pearl ficlet.. stares with big eyes

-🍂

SNILES AT YOU SO SNEETLY<3 HELLO TEA ANON BELOVEDDDD

Okay so this ficlet is the result of several people in my inbox realizing that Pearl has seen Grian healthy before, back when he was a Player on Evo. So naturally instead of being normal and responding like a person i decided i HAD to write out my answer as a ficlet. Predictably this has been in wip hell for a little bit (sorry all the anons who asked abt this-- thats why i havent answered that yet 😭😭😭😭), but i have such a clear vision in my head of what i want for it, all i need is a scrap of motivation to finish it off and add it to the collection

But in the meantime!! Here is a rough little snippet :]

Is that why you didn’t call me? Helplessness has never been a good look on her, but it seethes through her now, a wretched snake hissing in her ear and turning her limbs to lead. Did something happen? Goodness sakes, Griba… you could’ve rang! It’s as if she’s spoken out loud— Grian reels backward as if struck, those dark, obsidian eyes flying toward her; instinct has her grasping for the familiar, but— she can’t recognize them. They hold none of the previous emotion she remembers them having; it’s as if he’s a stranger, wrapped in the familiar tatters of her Playerhood friend.