#stick out the hunger

[vulpine-spectacle]

wait wait wait is soth/stick out the hunger a new fic idea?? or am i being dense and it's a reference to something else?? love your writing btw <3

You are not being dense at all, my lovely !! I am indeed in the process of outlining and writing a new fanfic !! It's called Stick out the Hunger and it's a Joel Miller / OFC story. :33

The story will be a canon-divergent adaptation of TLOU, taking place a year after season 1, with Joel and Ellie being in Jackson. While out on a resource run, Joel finds a survivor in an old museum, and they're forced into a situation where they have to work with each other to survive.

Joel manages to persuade the girl, Willow Torres, to go with him back to Jackson. From there, we get an angsty and (partially) domestic fic about survivor's guilt and romance. As you can probably guess, there's an age gap, because ... I am a Pedro slut.

I am also using Anya again because I love them visually together, leave me alone.

[happyvoltz]

book pita

[pawzn]

Lil hungry animation I made of one of my favs,, hhh

Rahhhhh I want his victummy,,. 🤤

Im sorry normal people who see this I get a bit quirky at night… 😭/lhhh (it’s not even night)

[introspectivememories]

thinking bout 14yr finnick winning the games and thinking about the victors+effie looking at this child and going "fuuuuck!!! guess we're co-parenting now"

[starryappl3]

some cahara scribbles i did. because i miss him

[anghraine]

I probably won't have time to write on Wednesday, though I'm very much hoping I manage to keep up my every-day-of-the-month writing streak despite the funeral. Anyway, just in case, I wrote a bit extra for the f/f K/S AU for what would have been this WIP Wednesday—this is about half of it, set shortly after "That Which Survives":

Throughout the hours of separation and doubt, S’paak had not felt as if Jess were dead. An embarrassingly superstitious, irrational part of her was convinced that she would feel it, somehow, if Jessica Kirk were somehow snuffed out of the universe—but such feelings did not constitute data.  So S’paak could only fear the worst and do little to prevent it. She found herself coldly lashing out at those around her, unprovoked, with anger and dread eating at her in a way she had not experienced even on the other occasions when she had greater cause to fear death. S’paak knew very well that today, she had not been merely logical as acting captain in a way the human crew refused to understand, but unfair. Still, she had retained control over herself and the Enterprise, even as her body ached with the wild emotions pervading every part of it, humming, twitching under her skin, setting her teeth on edge. Pain is of the mind, she reminded herself, tapping her fingers on the captain’s console. Pain is of the mind. Pain— The sensations had vanished without warning when she beamed down and saw Jess at last. Now, the visceral discomfort of the day lingered only in S’paak’s distaste at the memory. Even considering the circumstances, even considering the depth of her feeling for Jess, it struck her as strange, an experience she hoped never to repeat. Several hours after her shift ended, S’paak returned to her quarters, welcoming the chance to settle her mind in silence and isolation. Instead, she heard the captain speaking through the wall between their quarters—projecting loud enough for her voice to reach S’paak’s sensitive ears, but muffled enough by the bulkheads for the words to remain indistinct, though she recognized the steady, collected, unhesitating intonation. Kirk must be recording a log of either the mission or her personal observations. S’paak turned away, but knew herself well enough to guess she would find more peace in speaking to Kirk than contemplating what she already knew. It sounded as if the captain had only just begun her log, so now would be the best time for an interruption, anyway. Sure enough, Jess readily broke off when S’paak requested entry, and her mouth was already curving into a smile as S’paak entered. “Captain, I apologize for interrupting you,” S’paak said insincerely.

Jess’s mouth twitched wider. “We both know I’m supposed to be off-duty. Bones would have my head if he knew I was still working.” 

S’paak lifted a brow. They both knew that she had the right and authority to inform him of Jess’s habits, but equally, that she was not such a hypocrite as to do so without better reason than his annoyance.

“I doubt he would have much use for your head, captain,” said S’paak.

Jess laughed outright, and S’paak’s mind filled with a sudden, ephemeral image of the captain’s head hanging from a wall between ceremonial weaponry, like some Terran boar. It would have been horrifying if it weren’t quite so absurd.

“No, I’m guessing not,” Jess said. “Maybe he’d pickle my brain for research, who knows? But you haven’t told me much about what was going on up here. Just how far away did you end up?”

S’paak dutifully reported what little there was to report on her end, and admitted that she had only had time to read Sulu’s account of what exactly had happened on the surface.

“Well, I was just getting around to mine,” said Jess. “It’ll be a bit delayed, but I wanted everything clear in my head before I compile the whole report, especially considering A’mato’s death.” Her mouth tightened.

S’paak had heard about that much from Sulu’s report. She nodded, intensely aware of how poorly Jess accepted most casualties, especially among those outside Security. The away team had been in no position to save him, nor any of the others who had died at Losira’s touch—it was no one’s fault, particularly. Not even the Losira replicas themselves could be accurately blamed. There was nothing to be done, except the usual.

She didn’t know if Jess had written the condolences yet, and normally, would have tried to find out, calibrating her concern for her welfare to the exact demands on the captain’s fortitude. But something else from Sulu’s report had struck S’paak as important, and yet, she didn’t quite know what it was, or why it tugged at her attention.

“That is reasonable,” said S’paak. “I understand that the team took exhaustive readings, as well, though the local flora was inedible.”

Jess sat back down at her desk, gesturing at the nearest chair. 

“I don’t imagine the readings will figure all that largely in my own report, though no doubt Bones will have plenty to say,” she said as S’paak settled into the chair, the one Jess herself usually sat in during their chess matches. The board was packed on a shelf rather than set out, and S’paak did not intend to suggest a game, preferring to keep her attention focused for now.

Something had happened today, something she should have observed, or had observed, but had not yet assigned to the correct framework and fully recognized. S’paak almost frowned at the smooth surface of the table.

“That is not an extraordinary occurrence,” she remarked.

She expected a short huff of laughter, a wry aside, something. But Jess had fallen unusually silent.

“We could have starved to death down there,” she said, almost carelessly. “Quite a logical concern, I’m sure you’ll agree. We would have died even if the Losiras hadn’t gotten to us, without the Enterprise coming back for us. That will certainly make it into my report.”

[atefingersdagger]

The Muttations

[definitelynotshouting]

quick question- are grian and pearl siblings in hunger au? trying to write a hunger au fic and i would feel quite silly if i made a reference to it and it turns out they weren’t related. sorry if you answered this somewhere else i was digging for awhile in the au tag but couldnt reach the end!

OKAY SO THE ANSWER IS A BIT NUANCED FOR THIS ONE

Technically, Grian and Pearl were Spawned in rather than born, so they arent actually related. That being said, culturally speaking since being born is INCREDIBLY rare as opposed to being Spawned in, i think its fairly common and accepted practice to just go "yeag thats my sibling" about people you're incredibly close to sometimes. This ofc doesnt even BEGIN to get into the entire concept of play on an universal level, and how often people will i think claim siblinghood for one server only to completely disavow it in another. Which is... not very helpful as far as answers go, when you get down to it 😅😅😅

I think for Pearl and Grian, they dont really call each other siblings, but their relationship is very consistently sibling-like, which i think actually holds more weight in-universe than just arbitrarily calling themselves family would. So... yes and no??? Not related, probably wouldnt directly call each other siblings, but i think they both have the silent understanding that they are very much each other's chosen family, if that makes sense!!

[thetorturedpoetsdepartment]

kinda want to get my haymitch/thg tattoo BEFORE SOTR but also kinda wanna wait until after in case there's something in particular in SOTR that will make me want a certain detail added / want it on a certain body part / etc?

[camellcat]

I keep wanting to look up "human!buffy" fics when it's like... she IS human... but she's also more. so what do I... what label I looking for here without it just being a full human au?

[sysig]

You’re gonna die if you keep that up (Patreon)

[sodachalice]

one of the funniest part of telling everyone i know about sticks is i think it actually causes people to be curious about them specifically because I'm known for having very strange and high standards for the type of art and media i get into. the guy whos exclusively into abstract and often horror-based nonlinear art that has extremely high standards of how psyche theories are treated within the universe likes it and that implies Something about the series. which i just find really funny.

[introspectivememories]

tiktok hunger games fans are like the fucking worst. half of them are so desperate to let people know that there's a Message to the book and that they understood the Morals and Themes and Messages of the book that cant look past book canon or have some fun and the other half is making ocs and slapping katniss and peeta's name on them while making the most outlandish conspiracy theories. you cant fucking do anything on there

[spectrobes-princess]

The next chapter of The Flood Games has been posted

[everyone-calm-down]

Something the new Hunger Games movie succeeds at where I’ve seen other movies fail is that they make it very clear that we SHOULD be rooting for Lucy Gray and Sejanus and Tigris. Especially Sejanus. I’ll see takes from movies where our main character is in the wrong and yet the media will frame them as totally correct because they’re the mc and therefore we must agree with their actions. Not here. Sejanus is specifically framed as someone who is doing the right thing for the right reasons. Naïvely? Yes. But still right. Snows actions against him (the classroom with Gaul, recording him) don’t read as distasteful-but-necessary, they make him look like an asshole. Which is CORRECT. Idk, low bar for characterization but I’m still glad it was cleared.

[atefingersdagger]

clato handholding -> 28

Please Don't Fall, For Me

Prompt 28: Grabbing the other’s hand so they don't fall

Thank you for requesting!!!

*

Thankfully, it’s Cato who is the one that has to hold her hand so that she doesn’t fall flat on her face. Had he been the one careening over, her attempts at stopping it would result in both of them planting to the ground. Fucking rocky cliffs and their edges being so unstable.

“Falling for me already, are you?” Cato says, voice ragged with its usual smugness and lacking it’s typical anger.

“You know, it’s completely within legal bounds for me to slit your throat right now.”

Clove’s snide doesn’t work to slash his ego. Maybe it would have if she had slashed him in a more physical way, such as his heels. He only laughs, pulling her to him as though him saving her from a plummet that might have broken a few bones gives him the right to bring her so close.

“You’re so much fun.” Cato hasn’t let go of her hand, inspiring ire in her soul to whirr like the sound of a thrown knife. “Especially when you’re murderous.”

She sneers. “You won’t be having much fun when you’re being stabbed. Can’t imagine having about twenty-eight of them would be enjoyable.”

“Only that much? I think you can aim higher. Or...” Cato leans down, getting into her face like he wants to kiss her. In reality, however, he’s just being an ass. “Are you too short to reach for such heights.”

One reason she hates him, among many others, is that he plays along with her threats. Where other people, especially fellow tributes, would cower and cry, he takes it all in stride. Yet, it’s one reason she’s grown to... appreciate his company. He gives back as good as he gets.

Which sounds wrong, but she wasn’t meaning to think that way. “Don’t worry, I know how to make things go my ways.”

Using his ego against him, she squeezes his hand and gives him a flirtatious smile. Before, she yanks, releases and causes him to stumble into the crest of a rock wall beside them. His face registers confusion to shock to annoyance in a few seconds easy. The flickers cause her to start chuckling as he catches himself against gray stone.

She has seen him slit a throat, stab an abdomen, and snap a neck. The last of those he could easily do to her know, as she expects him to make a lunge at her for humiliating him on live television. But he does not, perhaps used to being humiliated after the time in this godforsaken arena. Or he could be into it.

Instead, Cato pushes himself upright completely, from what she can hear as she’s begun to walk off into areas they hope to forage more sustenance for their grumbling stomachs. Clove is skipping of some sorts, a small high received from making him be a fool. Another reason she should keep him around; to entertain her sadistic whims. She bets the audience would love that and even place their bets on her victory.

After all, her and Cato are the only Careers left. Who else is there to truly root for? The supposed ‘star-crossed lovers’ from 12 and their frail bones and bodies that have never known a day of training in their lives? Or the small mouse from 5 with the red hair and face like that of a sly fox? No.

It’s either them from the glorious District 2, or perhaps the boy from 11 who is built like a ferocious ox. If either her or Cato perish by some cruel hand of unlikely fate, she’d assume the winner would be that guy. Those odds seem low in probability.

Alas, just because her most annoying of allies are dead and gone, the peacocks from District 1, does not spare Clove from further aggravation. She thinks she might wrap her hands around Cato’s neck like she was wringing water from it like some dirty rag, but that wouldn’t be prudent. Would it? Because he’s right, she’s short and strangling him would likely require her to be straddling him and well... absolutely not.

“Clove.” The voice behind her is a huff.

“What?” She doesn’t look back, paying extra attention to the terrain they are scaling over that is not much different to the land of their home.

“I should have let you fall.”

“You can always push me.”

“But where would the fun in that be?”

He shoves at her like a juvenile, not enough to make her lose her balance like he had, but enough for her heart to cease a skip in the assumption that he was, in deed, pushing off the cliff. Despite not teetering, Cato grabs her hand again. The grasp is firm but a slight more uncertain in his knuckles and tendons.

Looking down at their joined hands, she realizes she hadn’t let go when she should have earlier and she’s unable to release now as well. Not because his hand swallows hers whole like a wave to a small body, but because she realizes something. Clove smirks, oh so sure of her assumption.

“Did you do that just to have an excuse to hold my hand again?”

“Excuse me?” Cato asks incredulously.

“If you want to hold my hand so bad, you could have just asked.”

“You say that as though you wouldn’t gut me for the thought.”

“True.” Clove digs her nails into his skin to see if he flinches. He does not. “But ask a girl nicely and you never know.”

They have come to an impasse in their conversation and a drop in where they walk. Cato lets her hand drop unceremoniously at her side, almost like it was something disgusting he touched. Her eyes roll and when they stop, she sees that the place below is more dirt and pine, along with an army of trees that might give them some animals, or humans, to hunt in its foliage.

Nonchalantly, he climbs down, or at least jumps down. The drop is a bit high, but he lands on his feet like a cat would. Then, he raises his arm up, extending a hand to her. An expectant look crosses his features and he gestures to her as if he’s asking for something. Similar to the gloved Peacekeepers that take their blood at the Reaping for the bowls their names are drawn from.

“Are you going to catch me, big guy?” Clove crosses her arms, enjoying that she’s, for once, standing above him.

“Don’t want you breaking an ankle.”

“Course not.” She unfolds her elbows. “Or you just want to hold my hand.”

“Does the princess protest too much?”

In retaliation, this little game that only they are playing, she sticks her tongue out at him. She runs her fingers along his palm teasingly, and she notices his ring finger twitch at the tickle it inspires. And she gives it a tiny scratch that isn’t even close to breaking the skin.

“This will be the second to last time I’ll hold your hand.” Clove mentions as he does catch, one of his strong arms around her waist.

“Second?” He’s looking down at her, but it reeks of the eyes a puppy would have when peering up and begging for a treat.

“Yeah.” She intertwines their digits to prove her point. “I’ll hold your hand while your dying, bleeding out from all those stab wounds.”

Cato brushes his thumb against her abductor pollicis brevis muscle, causing a slight blush to form on her face skin. “Is that a promise?”

Really, she can only nod because it absolutely is a promise. So, when he is the one to be pushed to the cliff of breath, she will give him that final piece of loyalty and respect. He’ll fall for her, and she’ll be the one to reach for his hand. Finally.