#Catching fire

[emilywaters]

Adding onto that, the empathy she showed to her stylists and effie, even though they were literally dressing her for slaughter, bcs she understood that at the core of it they were ignorant and blindsided, that the capitol citizens weren't the real enemy and it was the people who were intentionally cruel, the game-makers, snow and coin, they were the ones to be held accountable

I think the most radical thing the hunger games does is tell young people that the most revolutionary thing you can do is have unconditional love for humanity. Katniss throughout the entire series is guided by a deep sense of compassion for the people around her. It is what causes her to volunteer, to bury rue, to mercy kill cato, its why she tries to save peeta, why finnick telling her to remember who the real enemy is works, and even though her compassion for the larger world falters when peeta is kidnapped, it comes back when she visits hospitals and asks for mercy for other victors and ultimately, it is love and belief in a better humanity that makes her kill coin. Through it all, she maintains an unfaltering belief in the fundemental goodness of humanity, which is diametrically opposed to dr gaul's and snow's worldview. Peeta is even more unwaveringly compassionate

So the series tells young people that the most revolutionary thing you can be is compassionate. Let compassion drive your politics. Let yourself believe in the fundemental goodness of people. And i think that's deeply important in a world that touts the superiority of pure reason or logic, to allow yourself to be guided by something as emotional as compassion. Katniss everdeen tells us that your politics should be rooted in compassion in a world that thinks detatchment or cynicism is intelligence and i think thats v cool

[allisluv]

ok but like if we’re in an angsty mood tdy (i always am) what about finnick coming back from a long trip to the capitol?

barefoot on the sand.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: finnick's forced prostitution and canon trauma. finnick has bruises (hickeys) and scratches from his "clients", pre-established relationship, not edited, let me know if you'd like me too add anything else!

word count: 1.1k

Finnick has had a long week.

He has spent the last seven days putting on a front and being tugged from one Capitol elite to the next, only to be treated like a toy and then discarded to one side when they milk him dry of all that he can give.

His neck is littered in varying shades of black and blue hickies, while his back is marked with the indentations of sharp finger nails that were raking up and down his skin. His muscles scream and protest with every movement he makes, and he’s relieved for the ice pack that one of the familiar Avoxes hands him when he boards the train back to District Four.

The journey home always seems to pass quickly. Maybe it’s because he dissosciates for half of it, or maybe it’s because he’s half-asleep. Either way, he’s glad when he gets off at the train station and feels the warm summer breeze fan against his face.

Its a relief to be home once again and he slips his feet out of his sandals to walk barefoot along the sand as he takes the shortcut to Victor’s Village. The faint smell of sea salt and the sound of waves lapping against the shore are enough to keep him grounded.

Your shared house comes into view and the building radiates warmth, even from outside. There’s a warm, cosy aura about it, one that he assosciates with both you and home, despite both of those things being one in his eyes.

He leaves his sandals on the balcony and slips through the back door. He makes a mental note to lovingly scold you for leaving it open but that thought is knocked right out of his head upon seeing you in the living room.

Like a cat, you have curled up in a ball on the sofa. A pair of cheap knock-off reading glasses perch on the bridge of your nose as you cradle a book in your hands, eyes narrowed in concentration. His favourite rom-com movie is playing on the television that hangs from the wall, and he knows that you must have gotten his fax about coming home from the Capitol.

As if you can sense his presence, you look up from your book and set it on the coffee table without bothering to mark your page. You offer him a smile and tilt your head, extending the invitation for him to sit with you, but without any pressure or expectations tied to it.

You know that sometimes Finnick will have an aversion to touch after being in the Capitol and you know that other times, he’ll crave your touch as a way to remind himself that he’s home, and he’s safe.

Finnick’s bottom lips trembles, and the floodgates open in what must be a record amount of time. He sinks down onto the couch next to you before crawling into your lap and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You welcome him with open arms, and comb your fingers through his golden curls as he sobs into your skin. You don’t shush him, or try to stop his crying, or tell him to ‘act like a man’; you simply hold him as he cries.

Combing your fingers through his golden curls, you scratch at his scalp in the way that you know makes him relax. Just as expected, he melts into your embrace, and you press a soft kiss to the top of his head.

It takes a while for his breathing to even out, and when it does, you ask, “Are you hurt?” Finnick hesitates, and that’s all the answer you need. “Okay.” You mumble. “Can I see?”

Again, he hesitates, but you press a reassuring kiss to his forehead, and he nods before sitting up. He pulls his shirt over his head and you swallow around the lump in your throat when you see the hickeys and scratches on his golden skin.

You push your fury down and smooth his hair out of his face. “I’m just gonna go get some things to clean you up. Is that okay?”

Finnick nods his head once, and reluctantly untangles his limbs from yours. His eyes flutter shut when you cup his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose. You must be gone for a minute at the most, and when you return with the first aid kit, he knows you must have had it out ready and waiting on the kitchen table for his arrival.

You sit on the sofa beside him and gently tend to his wounds, explaining what you’re doing every step of the way so that he doesn’t get overwhelmed, and showering him in words of praise to help him feel safe.

Once the gels have been applied to the bruised skin of his neck and you’ve wiped all of his injuries down with an antiseptic wipe, you close the first aid-kit and help him back into his shirt.

“Thank you,” Finnick croaks out, voice cracked and hoarse from crying. “For everything.”

Your heart cracks open in your chest at his murmur of thanks, and you reach out to run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. He leans into your touch. “Don’t thank me okay? That’s what I’m here for, baby.”

You settle back on the sofa and beckon him into your arms, letting him rest his head in your lap as you go back to smoothing your fingers through his hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head vehmently.

You soothe him with a kiss to his forehead. “That’s okay. How about snacks?” Finnick perks up at the mention of food, and you bite back a smile. “I got all your favourites; candyfloss, salted chips, dark chocolate…” You coax.

Finnick looks up at you through his long lashes and brings your knuckles to his mouth. He presses a kiss to the skin there, a silent way of telling you that he loves you. “Popcorn?” You can’t supress your laughter this time around, and you nod. “I suppose you could twist my arm,” he mumbles in to your skin.

You reach around the arm of the sofa to grab the bag of pre-prepared goodies, and Finnick whines at the loss of contact. You shush him quietly. “‘M still here. ‘M not going anywhere, baby. I’m just getting our snacks, alright?” You empty the bag of treats into your laps. “See?”

Finnick grabs a bag of popcorn and tears into it, snapping pieces of dark chocolate and throwing it into the bag, too. He munches on his snacks, occasionally offering you the bag and letting you pick at the food. “I love you, angel.” He says between mouthfuls.

You smile softly and lean in to peck his forehead. “I love you more.”

[annabananabridgers]

random good ish sketches

[starrynightsxo]

THROWBACK I CANNOT BELIEVE WE ARE SO CLOSE TO GETTING THIS BOOK WTAF?? 🙏🙏

WE WON???

[shinynewmemories]

No but the Hunger Games really said "what do you hate more- the atrocities or the people who commit them against you? Because like it or not there IS a difference. If you hate the people who commit acts of pure evil more than you hate the acts themselves, what will stop you from becoming just like your enemies in your pursuit of justice? What will keep you from commiting those very same acts against THEM when the opportunity arises? And what then? The cycle of pain and suffering will never stop. Round and round it'll go. Nothing will ever change. But. BUT. If you hate the atrocities. If you hate the vile, senseless acts MORE than you hate the people who did them to you. If you are able to see that evil is evil regardless of who does it... The cycle ends with you. No, you may never get justice. But you will never be responsible for making others, even your enemies, suffer the same crimes you have. The atrocities will never be committed by you, never by your hand. And that's the way you change the world. It's the ONLY way" and that's why I am sure it will never stop being one of the most relevant works of fiction ever created

[logicalbrina]

what makes Snow such a formidable villain within THG universe is that nothing he does was set in stone. there was no sense of inevitability about his actions and his brutality. Snow had enough perspective of poverty, capital cruelty, district hunger and not to mention his own arena experience’ and yet he actively chose at every moment to stray from natural goodness. its even more terrifying in the sense that he had the ability to care. Snow is not a mindless sociopath, he displays feelings to others such as sejanus, lucy grey and tigris but ultimately he will always choose himself. his ability to betray those he cared about in order yo advance himself makes him so much more than the stereotypical villain who is forced into his actions.

[timelesslords]

thinking about how the hunger games were designed to prove that without society, order, government, someone to rule, we devolve into little more than animals, and how the games themselves prove over and over again that this is not true. We see it in every single game we witness.

Katniss placing flowers around Rue's body in the arena. Thresh sparing Katniss because she was kind to Rue, even though he was making it that much harder for himself to win.

Haymitch going back for Maysilee after hearing her scream even though their alliance had been broken. Haymitch holding her as she dies the same way Katniss did Rue.

Coral's "I can't have killed them all for nothing" when she realizes she's not going home. Lamina cutting down Marcus at great personal risk. And, my favorite moment in tbosas, Reaper collecting the bodies of his fellow tributes, his peers, even the ones who tried to kill him, into a pile. Taking the weapons from their hands. Closing their eyes and crossing their arms in the best approximation of a proper burial he can manage, covering them with the Capitol flag as a makeshift shroud.

The Games bring out the worst in people, yes. But despite the extreme circumstances, despite the exterior pressure of the Capitol, despite the fact that it could mean pain and heartbreak and death, it also shows that people have an enormous capacity for goodness. That even in a situation purposefully designed to make empathy impossible, people can't help but have it anyway.

Snow looks at the Games and all he can see is what's inside himself-- this pure animalistic drive to conquer and defeat. He kills and it feels good and he thinks that everyone else must feel that way too. He doesn't realize (maybe can't realize) that he is the exception, not the rule. He cannot see outside himself, outside his own warped perspective, to realize that the fact that people do show humanity in the games proves his entire worldview wrong.

[ringtoned]

suzanne collins is such a genius... the cultural phenomenon of her series leading to the hanging tree house remixes, mockingjay being milked for two (bad) movies, the capitol-inspired makeup palettes, the halloween costumes, the explosion of the market for dystopia, the butchering of her characters and removal of disabilities, disfiguration, and racial tension + representation to sell more tickets, the extra gale scenes to fuel discourse, and the audience showing up to cinemas to watch what was pretty honestly marketed to them (the jacob vs edwardification of the symbolic love story and also to watch children fight to the death) it's just so ridiculously ironic i would say you can't write this shit, but she did write about it... in The Hunger Games published 2008

[flodaya]

#katniss is a victim of the sassy men apocalypse

[sherwood-scribblings]

Thought this was a necessary measure because we all know that surge of clueless thirsty tiktok fans is gonna happen.

[woah this post blew up how,,,,, psa that i have indepth analysis + theories on my feed if you crave more sotr content]

[daydreamer-in-reverie]

Started rereading the Hunger Games series and I feel like it’s so overlooked how in 74th and 75th Hunger Games, we don’t know every Tribute’s names, with Katniss only referring to them by their District numbers but in TBOSAS, we knew every single Tribute by name. We associated them with the clothes they wore on the Reaping Day and Suzanne even goes so far as to describe how they looked, however briefly. We see these Tributes and we’re familiarized with them by the little tidbits provided to the mentors and to Snow and Lucy Gray. But we never get this in the original trilogy.

In two generations, President Snow alienated the Districts from each other so much that Katniss didn’t even care to know all the names of the Tributes sent into the Arena with her, with the exception being those who posed great risk against her safety and those she felt great compassion for (e.g. Cato, Thresh, Rue, Mags, Betee, Wiress etc.). Katniss even went so far as to call the D6 Tributes in the 75th Hunger Games morphlings, for their affinity to imbibe in the drugs that help them forget their own traumas (an incredibly hurtful description, in my own opinion, to be known by the qualities you hate the most about yourself). We never know the real name of the 74th D5 girl, with Katniss only referring to her as Foxface and we don’t even know Marvel’s name until we get to the second book and he was Katniss’ first personal kill. Katniss even kills the D4 girl in the books with the same tracker jacker venom that killed Glimmer and yet still, we don’t know her name. We are so removed from the identity of the other Tributes that we don’t even know what some of them looked like beyond brief descriptions of mangled bodies and dead Tributes in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia.

And, the thing is, Suzanne established the importance of names in the series. Even in real life, we recognize the importance of being named. It is a fundamental aspect of being human. If you’re ever in a perilous situation where a person might be placing your life in danger, we’re told to remind the person that you’re human. “Keep saying your name, how old you are, where you came from. Remind them you are a human being just like them.” Before any propaganda can work against a group of people, refusing to recognize a person’s name is the first step to dehumanization. And just like the people of the Districts, we don’t care enough about the other Tributes to even want to know their names. Their propaganda worked on us, the readers.

In two generations, President Snow completely wiped out any sense of familiarity and camaraderie the Districts may have shared with the other. In two generations, Snow sowed the seeds of distrust and division into the Districts so deeply that even we, the readers, were affected by the effects of Capitol propaganda. In two generations, the Districts ceased to genuinely care about the others beyond the vague sense of injustice they feel for their shared plight. It’s why Career Districts don’t seem to care about killing the other Tributes. How can you care, to show your compassion and humanity, when you can barely see them as people? Yes, they may have been in the Arena with you. Yes, they may have been starved and beaten and forced into labor like you were. Yes, they might be children just like you. Yes, they might be subjected to the same deplorable system that turned you into virtual slaves. But they are not your friends. They are not your allies. They are strange, with different customs and traditions that you have. You do not share the same values. They do not care about you. At the first chance they get, they will kill you with your bare hands and they will do it with alacrity if it meant their survival. There can only be one Victor and it can’t be them. It has to be you.

[allisluv]

blurb idea!! your children (two girls one boy) plan a dinner date for you and finnick! they have a table set up on the porch and a whole menu (5 and 7 year old’s handwriting) of gourmet meals (grilled cheese and tomato soup) for the both of you. they dress up in their nicest clothes while they play chefs and waiter. i can imagine desert just being two scoops of ice cream and a chocolate chip cookie 😭. but nonetheless, the children receive all of the earned extra cuddles and kisses before bed for their effort🤗.

grilled cheese and tomato soup.

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship (duh), finnick and reader have three children (kai, cordelia and marina), set post war, not edited, minor angst at the beginning but it's only for like three paragraphs i promise, other than that, it's just pure fluff <3

word count: 1.4k

Summers are always warm in District Four, and beads of sweat roll down the back of your neck as you sit at your vanity table and slowly but surely add the finishing details to your latest project for work. The window is cracked open to let a breeze in, but even that in itself is warm.

Finnick is folding laundry and putting it away into the wardrobe. As the two of you work away in silence, you can hear the occasional giggle or squeal from your three children, reminding you that they’re fine in the other room.

You’re the first to notice that their laughter has seemed to fizzle out, and dread fills your veins as you pluck the pen from between your teeth and set it down on the table. “Finnick.”

He must take note of the panic in your voice, because he immediately stops what he’s doing. “Are you okay?” He asks, brows furrowed as he maneuvers around the king sized bed and stops at your side. He tilts your head in his direction and coaxes you into looking at him when he tips your chin upwards. “Talk to me.” His voice is steady and even, and it helps ground you.

“I can’t hear them.” You choke out, pressing a hand over your heart. Every single instinct in your body tells you to move, but your feet are rooted to the floor. “The kids. I can’t hear them anymore. I can’t hear them laughing.” You gesture to the bedroom door that leads into the other rooms.

Finnick strains to listen, and he realises that he can’t hear them, either. Still, he remains calm; he knows that freaking out will not prove to be any good for either one of you. “It’s okay. That’s more of a mischevious silence that anything.” He teases, mentally reminding himself that everything is alright. Coin and Snow are both dead. There are no more games. They’re safe now. “Come on. Lets go see what those three are up to.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat and grip his hand. Finnick squeezes once then twice, a silent reassurance that he is there with you.

When you don’t move an inch, he puts a steady hand on your lower back and steers you out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. The sound of childish whispering meets both of your ears and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in the first place.

Finnick offers you a small smile as he slowly feels the dread being pulled out of his body. “There. See?” He presses his lips to your forehead. “It’s all okay. I mean, they might burn the house down if we don’t go see what they’re up to, but they’re okay.”

You laugh and lean into his touch as he cups your cheek in his hand. He presses another lingering kiss to your forehead before using his hip to push open the kitchen door and stepping inside.

“Daddy!” Your youngest, Cordelia, screams, and abandons whatever she was doing in favour of running through the length of the kitchen towards her father.

Finnick lets go of your hand to catch Cordelia when she throws herself at him. Hoisting her onto her hip, he boops her on the house, and grins when she dissolves into a fit of giggles. “What have you three been up to, hm?” Cordelia buries her face in the crook of his neck instead of answering, and he lets out a hum. “Something mischevious then, I’m assuming.”

You shake your head fondly and peek your head around the corner, where the twins, Marina and Kai, are wearing their best clothes and arguing over the George Forman maker.

“I should do it!” Marina protests, cocking her hip out.

“I’m older!” Kai retorts with just as much overexaggeration.

“By, like, three minutes! And you’ve never used the grilled cheese maker before.”

“Then show me!”

“You’re seven.”

“So are you.”

You laugh from where you’re standing and their little heads whip around so fast that you wonder if they gave themselves whiplash. “Technically speaking, neither of you should be using that. It’s too dangerous. And get off that chair before you break a bone, please, Mari.”

Marina does as she was told and uses her brothers shoulder to steady herself as she clambers back down with a huff. She stirs a pot with something inside of it, while Kai tries his best to distract you with his award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

Kai tugs on the bottom of your sweatpants. “Mommy.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Come with me.” He demands. You raise a brow. “Please.” He adds, and you relent, letting him take you by the hand and lead you out of the kitchen. He collects Cordelia and his dad on the way to the back door, and then he pushes down on the handle and opens it, pushing both Finnick and you out onto the patio.

Golden fairy lights have been poorly strung up around the wooden bannisters that allow you a bit of privacy and a linen tablecloth has been draped across the patio table. Two chairs are perched on either side of the table, instead of the usual five, and an unlit candle is positioned in the middle.

Cordelia’s chewing on her fingers, but takes them out of her mouth long enough to say, “Ta-da!”

You look around incredously, trying to take in the transformation of your back patio. “What’s all this for, hm?” You ask as Kai pushes you to sit in one of the chairs and then moves to do the same with his father. Finnick laughs but goes willingly, settling in the seat opposite you.

Kai stands up straight before shooting his little sister a pointed look and gesturing for her to stand up and get off of their father’s lap. Cordelia pouts but does as asked, sulking next to Kai. “We have made you dinner.” He announces.

Finnick arches an eyebrow and glances at you from across the table. You shrug, instructing him to go along with it. “Is that so?” Kai nods earnestly. Finnick leans forward in his chair, rests his chin in the palm of his hand, and indulges his son. “So, waiter, what’s on the menu tonight?”

Kai pulls a crumpled pad of paper out of his pocket and you stifle a laugh into your hand. Kai looks at you, not impressed in the slightest. “It is not funny, Mommy.” You school your expression and nod to let him know that he has your full attention. Finnick snickers. “We have tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

You gasp dramatically. “No dessert?”

Kai rolls his eyes, ever the moody one. “That’s a surprise, Mommy.” He says as if it was obvious.

“Oh, yes, silly me.”

Kai pretends to look at his non-existent watch. “I got to go.” He takes Cordelia’s hand and leaves without another word.

You and Finnick break into hysterics the second your children are out of earshot and you reach for his hand across the table. He brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses your wedding band. “Well, at least we can’t say they never did anything for us.” He muses.

You laugh. “No, I suppose we can’t.”

The both of you sit in a comfortable, loving silence until Kai, Cordelia and Marina come out with a bowl of tomato soup and a bread roll for each of you. Cordelia sneaks back onto her dad’s lap, robs his bread roll, and munches away on it happily.

Kai pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters under his breath about how, “Its impossible to find the staff these days,” before marching back into the kitchen.

“I swear, that kid is an old man reincarnated,” You giggle.

Finnick hums his agreement and blows on a spoonful of soup to feed Cordelia.

As promised, the next course is a grilled cheese sandwich that is practically as hard as a rock and disintegrating in your hands. Nevertheless, both you and Finnick reassure Marina that you prefer it that way.

Cordelia spills the secret on dessert, but the two of you promise not to tell Kai and Marina that you know. Both of you put on your best surprised faces when two scoops of vanilla ice-cream and two chocolate chip cookies are served, and the kids are none the wiser.

Finnick gives the three of them a well-deserved massive slice of chocolate cake and a mug of hot cocoa each for their effort. You and Finnick take them to the beach to burn off some energy, and when you come home, they crash out, but not before getting the cuddles and forehead kisses that they earnt.

[brothersnackariahsbitch]

Now when I reread The Hunger Games series, I’m going to be giggling and kicking my feet every time something pops up that I know triggers Snow. Because once you read TBOSAS, you realize it’s literally EVERYTHING. Katniss’s name. Her mockingjay pin. Her singing. Where she’s from. Her falling for a blond boy. Her entire existence is torture for him. We don’t know if Lucy Gray lived or died, but she sure as hell lived on in Snow’s memory. She haunted him until the day he died.

[odairfilm]

In the epilogue of Mockingjay, Katniss only refers to her children as 'the boy' and 'the girl'. We never learn their real names. Throughout her life, Katniss has never really been allowed privacy or the ability to make many of her own decisions. Whether this was caused by the living conditions of the Seam and having to constantly provide for Prim and their mother, or by the fact that she was forced into the scrutiny of the public eye when she was reaped/volunteered and became the face of the rebellion- The Mockingjay.

So then all of this passes, she and Peeta are living together in District 12 in the Victor's Village, and they are finally allowed to choose how they want to live. After 15 years, she decides that she's ready to have kids. They can be raised in a safe environment with no Games, no threats. So the one choice she makes at the end is to keep their names from us, the audience. The one thing that gives us our identity before anything else. The one thing that, essentially, makes us who we are (also Suzanne is so meticulous with picking names throughout the series, so it would be special to Katniss and Peeta). She decides that that's only for her and her family to know.

We, who have literally seen every inch of her life from the reaping up until now, are being told that no, we don't get to see parts of her life without her permission anymore. And it always makes me so emotional. Like yes! Take back your life! Rest. Live. Love. But on YOUR terms and no one elses.

(I posted this on my TikTok acc @narniachrons as well. It wasn't stolen, I swear!)

[thesweetnessofspring]

I'm having emotions about this scene. How vulnerable Katniss can be with Peeta, and he can be with her, how affectionate they are. It's a beautiful snapshot into their relationship and one of my favorites.

[ravenclairee]

THE HUNGER GAMES: CATCHING FIRE — 2013, dir. Francis Lawrence CATCHING FIRE — Chapter XXIV