#hunger games blogging

[metanarrates]

fundamentally the global success of the hunger games is predicated on it depicting a revolution where you can easily project your own experiences of race & political ideology. if hunger games tackled race in a way that was not digestible to white audiences, and if it copped to any particular political ideology ESPECIALLY an actually revolutionary one, then it would not be something that the world at large and america in particular would be able to consume en masse. it is not able to keenly depict racism & racial exploitation for this reason

[aconfusedgoose]

AND DAN AND PHIL ARE BACK???

I started this year making a meme about John Green being back and I thought that would be the wildest thing to happen this year... Clearly I was wrong. I feel like the universe is just confused about what year it is... I'm in my mid 20s now and I don't need to be going through this again.

[whereiivygrows]

YOU CANT EXPECT ME TO ACT SANE AFTER THIS.

[snowsinterlude]

🍒 - fitting room.

summary: your soon to be husband always did his best to keep you happy and pretty for him, once a month he would always take you out to keep you in fashion, even if that was just an excuse to fuck you in a fitting room.

c.w: nsfw, smut, p in v, blowjob (m. recieving), dirty talk, public sex, fitting room sex, almost caught, cum denial, mentions to tit slapping and clit slapping, creampie, breeding, dom snow, sub reader, president snow x soon to be wife reader, sex in public places

being wed to the president of panem had some strange types of luxury that comes with it.

one of them being your wardrobe, full to the brim with clothes he brought to you, he had to build you an entire closet to fit in all the things he got you. jewelry, dresses, everything that he wanted you to wear for him, too. lingerie being the thing he always told you to buy.

so today, once again, you were on another luxury store with him, buying clothes and asking for his opinion on certain clothes, knowing he was glad to help you.

"m'love-" you called him, shyly. he gave the assistant of the store a look that was enough to send her away, and when he entered, he could see your panties on your hands while you wore one of the store's new dress. you were olaying with the fabric of your panties like a timid whore, hands occupied with it.

"what..." he chuckled, not even needing to ask anything when you fluttered your eyes at him, his dick starting to stiff up when you swayed your hips to his direction, arms hugging his waist shyly.

"it's just, you know.. you have been such a good husband to me and our wedding didn't even occur, i thought we could, you know, uh... advance the honeymoon."

ah, it wasn't the first time you guys fucked, but those words were enough for him to kiss you all of a sudden, pinning you on the wall while putting your panties on his pockets.

you did your best to make him happy too, always satisfying him and his dick, pumping him while on your knees, tears welling on your eyes as you licked his tip, kissing it open mouthed.

"don't let any drop fall on the dress, okay?" he growled, and you nodded obediently, the action making your head bob on his cock, earning a chuckle out of his lips.

you pulled away a bit, breathing heavily before giving his balls a small kiss. he slapped your face lightly, putting his entire being into not hurting your pretty face and thanking heavens for you being a whore who liked such dirty things.

"coryo, i.. hn, i want you to cum inside of me." you said, breathless after drooling on his cock, getting it purposefully wet for it to enter your gushing ignored cunt.

"god, you're such a bitch." he chuckled, pulling you to stand up, your legs shaking from being on your knees for longer than you actually remembered being.

with your thigh being held by his hand to spread your legs apart, your hands were holding onto anything in that fitting room that could help you not to fall. your moans were muffled by your own panties, that he had stuffed in his pocket before calling you a whore for making him have to muffle your lewd sounds with your own panties.

"i can't believe you are such a perverted whore, drooling on your own panties while i fuck you senseless." he whispered on your ear, kissing your neck while his skin slapped against yours. "maybe i should fuck some sense into you, don't you think so, bunny?"

his question was ironic, but you still nodded pathetically, a despair he had never seen before on anyone's eyes, your tears probably being the main thing that made him think of that.

then, there was a sudden knock on the fitting room door, which made you panic, but not him, his thrusts could have gotten a bit slower, but your pussy was still gushing around him, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as you moaned against your panties.

"miss snow?" the assistant asked, ear on the door as she tried to hear what was happening inside the fitting room. "miss snow, is everything alright?"

her voice seemed a bit worried, and coriolanus kisses on your neck made you even weaker, his mouth nibbling on your ear.

"be a good girl and answer her. and don't you dare make those slutty sounds of yours." he whipered, taking the panties out of your mouth, you let out a soft sob and breathed in heavily before answering.

"y..yes, it is." you blurted out. "is there.. is there anything 'rong?" you fucked yourself back on his dick while saying those things, his hands grabbing your ass with desire, lust and gluttony, marking his hand prints on your ass.

"no. i just needed to know if your husband was there. it is not allowed to have two people in the same fitting room in the store, i need to follow the rules." she said, and your pussy gripped tightly on his cock, his finger masturbating your clit non stop.

"h-he's not there." you answered, pausing multiple times to try and control your sobs.

"but you called him earlier, miss." she said.

"yeah, only t-to zip up.. m-my dress..!" you said, biting your lip as his hand met your cheek again and again, your lips trembling as you cried a bit.

"oh.. okay, miss! please call me if needed." she said, coriolanus relaxed seeing her shadow disappear on the ground, your mouth being stupidly stuffed with your panties again.

"god, you're a terrible actor, bunny." he said, picking up pace while fucking you deep and fast. "great thing you're such a perfect wife for me."

you mewled into his touches, feeling him slap your butt terribly strong, your skin burning as you moaned. "'m sowwy, love" you said, not taking in the tease, it was too difficult to speak up when there was a pair of panties shoved on your mouth.

he slapped across your boobs, your nipples stinging up while his other thumb rubbed against your over sensitive clit against his skillful hands, his hand slapping and pinching at your clit.

"sorry, coryo, sorry!" you begged, crying eyes closing shut as you felt your climax next and ready to engulf your body, but it didn't.

however, he was the first to cum, breeding you up real nice for him while you kept crying.

"coryo!" you begged, not even needing to say the words for him to know what you wanted, his index and his thumb kept on assaulting your clit, his lips kissing your tears.

"sorry, bunny. you're not gonna cum until we arrive home." and those words were enough for you to cry more, your pussy clenching as he pulled his cock away, leaving your cunt to clench on the air, already missing his cock. "be a good girl, okay? if you complain, you won't be cumming for the next month." he threatened.

he helped you dress your panties again, paying for the dress that was still on your body, your body, that was still stuffed with his cum. you and him walked to home, he only demanded that the chauffeur would leave your shopping bags on your closet.

he made you walk all the way to home with your panties stuffed in cum, but you didn’t and you wouldn't complain. you knew that the best you behaved, the soon you'd be cumming on your shared bed, making a mess on his face and on his cock.

you hugged his arm, biting your lip while day dreaming about how much he'd fuck you when you both arrived home. which he did.

[mostlyiwant-tobekind]

The rebellion would have been so much shorter if Katniss had accidentally sang Pure as the driven snow. He would have had a heart attack right there and then.

[lisa-jnss]

the bond between a girl and the book she read in middle school is sacred

[caesarflickermans]

Controlling the narrative, the aspects of propaganda. I think as much as Sunrise on the Reaping might start with the initial Games, this will be very much about the narrative surrounding Haymitch's rebellious act at the end.

This will be the book about how a rebellion failed, because the narrative was successfully controlled.

[dawn-delocksley]

Hiromu Arakawa, Fullmetal Alchemist, Chapter 23 (2003) // Kate Bush, "Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)" (1985) // The Legend of Vox Machina, Season 2 Episode 4 (2022) // Critical Role Campaign 1, Episode 44 (2016) // The Hunger Games, dir. Gary Ross (2012) // Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (2008) // Ryoko Kui, Dungeon Meshi, Chapter 37 (2018).

[thefloatingwriter]

the victors as complex characters will always be more interesting than making them amazing people.

like these are people who did absolutely everything in their power to survive something as traumatic as the games. most of them probably sleep with weapons in their hands. the thought on the forefront of most of their minds is survival. everything else—anyone else—can wait.

they sacrificed everything to crawl out of a killing game. their mental stability. their innocence. their childhood.

and after all of that, they realized that the games never really end. that they would sacrifice ever having a good night sleep without being plagued by nightmares. they would sacrifice their brains to help the capitol. they would sacrifice their bodies, something that should have always been their own, now snatched away from them. all for surviving a killing match that twenty-three children didn’t.

no victor is immune to this either. do you think cashmere doesn’t regret being so excited to go into the games after her brother after staying the night in a strange man’s bed that she doesn’t know? do you think gloss doesn’t regret not warning his sister about the horrors that await her after she wins? do you think brutus doesn’t sometimes wake up in a cold sweat after having yet another nightmare about being on the receiving end of his weapon, just as all of his victims were before everything faded to black? do you think enobaria doesn’t run her tongue over her sharpened teeth and wonder if it was worth it?

do you think beetee doesn’t flinch every time he sees lightning? do you think wiress doesn’t think of how if she hadn’t learned acrobatics that the 48th hunger games would have gone very differently? do you think finnick doesn’t see nets in the same way ever again, after he saw the girl from nine begging for her life tangled in a net he set up before he stabbed her with a trident? do you think annie doesn’t think about if she hadn’t spent all of that time on the beach growing up, playing in the water, that she wouldn’t have survived the dam breaking in her arena? do you think mags doesn’t think about how she left her district partner to die in the first ever traditional career pack? how if maybe, if she had been there to take the blow for him, there would be a different victor of the 11th hunger games?

do you think that blight doesn’t wonder what would have happened if the boy from two had looked up a little bit sooner, looked a little bit closer at the treetops above him, before the knife previously in blight’s hand found it’s way to the boy’s back? do you think that every time johanna picks up an axe, she doesn’t think about what if felt like to stab someone with it, what blood felt like when it splattered you? do you think she doesn’t wake up in a sweat, thinking the moisture on her skin is blood, that she’s back in the third quarter quell? do you think she doesn’t ever walk into her house in the victor’s village and think she sees a glimpse, a shadow, of her lost loved ones?

do you think that woof doesn’t use real knives anymore because every time he sees one, he remembers how it felt to stab blindly at the boy from seven? that even when he was seventy-five and the male tribute from eight for the third quarter quell, he couldn’t even look at the utensil and had to get cecelia to take it away from him? do you think cecelia can’t look at seashells anymore, that she could barely stand district four on her victory tour, because the girl from four was her last kill? that her necklace, a pretty one her sister made for her with a seashell strung through the string, was what cecelia used to choke the life out of her?

do you think that chaff doesn’t ever feel the phantom feeling of his hand? doesn’t ever touch the stump where it used to be and feel the phantom pain of it being sawed off like it was yesterday, even thirty years later? do you think that seeder doesn’t ever feel the hot sun of her arena on her body, doesn’t ever think she’s back, waiting for her death to come?

do you think that haymitch doesn’t start shaking every time a blowgun is provided at the cornucopia? do you think that he didn’t see the gold pin on katniss’ arena wear and have to sit down, remembering a very different girl with blonde hair and a quick witted humor with the same pin? do you think that peeta doesn’t hear foxface’s voice during her interview, over and over and over, until it’s so distorted he can’t even remember what she had actually said? that he doesn’t ever think of the girl from eight, a girl he might not have even known the name of?

do you think that, years down the line, katniss doesn’t realize the fate that waited for glimmer if she had won? do you think that she doesn’t wonder what would have happened if cato was a little quicker to get to the cornucopia to save clove? do you think she doesn’t wonder what the girl from four was like, what her name was, what her parents were like, what she was like? do you think that she doesn’t think about what would have happened if marvel was just a little bit quicker with his spear than her with her arrows, what would have happened if she was just a little bit slower to get to rue?

the what-ifs plague them. their games will never leave them. they will never escape their experiences. their lives will never be their own, if they ever were, ever again.

[lavellun]

Lucy Gray Baird, Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus Plinth as the three different social contracts of the philosophers Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Thomas Hobbes and John Locke.

[metanarrates]

you got that genre and gender essay for us 👀

i might talk about gender in the hunger games a different time but right now im ready to talk about genre in it (FINALLY. sorry gamers ive been in the sludge for a while)

so one of the things that really struck me about the hunger games while reading is that it did not function strictly as an action genre story during the games themselves. the genre it actually seemed to be dipping into a lot of the time is wilderness survival. this is weird, for a couple of reasons.

for anyone unfamiliar with the wilderness survival genre, the underlying conflict tends to be rather slow-movingly paced. this isn't always the case - some wilderness survival stories do have limitations that force the plot to speed up - but in the vast majority of works I've seen, the main force the main character is working against is the slow-moving course of nature. there is a lot of time spent hunting, crafting, building shelters, tending to injuries. occasionally there are bursts of action, but the story is much more concerned with the daily work of solving more longterm survival problems than it is with more temporary threats. it's typically a story about endurance rather than urgency.

now, I like the genre just fine. I would even say suzanne collins does it decently well. the problem is that it doesn't actually suit the premise of the hunger games.

the hunger games is, on premise, a death game. for at least the first two books, the main setpiece of the story is the promise of the arena. it is a televised match where children have to kill each other for the entertainment of a crowd. this isn't a crazy uncommon subgenre or even main genre for action stories - there's a lot of story potential in forcing combatants to battle to the death against their will. my favorite novel, omniscient reader's viewpoint, has death game elements. when done well, it is tense, exciting, and asks questions about the culpability of both viewer and participants. oftentimes, the story's major theme is forcing the audience think about the way they may treat violence as spectacle. this is certainly something the hunger games also wants to do.

this premise carries a lot of intrinsic tensions. in a story where people are hunting one another in order to survive, the protagonist almost always is under threat, or nearly under threat, of being attacked. the tension of potentially having to kill adds another layer of tension. the demands of audience, in a story about violence as spectacle, serves to add another layer. the protagonist always has to look over their shoulder, to make sure that their audience can't hurt them if they become dissatisfied with the protagonist, and to be sure that they can fend off attackers at any given moment. to do otherwise, at least without justifying it, would be to undermine the logical stakes the premise introduces.

the end result, when done well, is a fast-paced action story with consistently heightened tension. you'll notice that this doesn't blend well with a slow-paced genre with a consistently low but omnipresent baseline tension.

through both games, again to collins' credit, there are a lot of high-tension action sequences. katniss does spend a good deal of time fighting, running, tensely hiding out, and dealing with high-octane environmental factors. however, I was consistently a little disappointed by how quickly a lot of these sequences ended. more importantly, I was confused by how often it would lead back into katniss skirting around the woods. she spends a ton of time fishing, hunting, chatting with allied tributes, scouting, and waiting around in a cave for peetas injuries to heal. the threat of the other tributes finding and killing her slips into the background. the audience in the capitol only matters occasionally. the minuitiae of surviving in a wilderness takes up major screentime. the threats intrinsic to the actiony premise stop being an immediate concern.

this inability to follow through on the established stakes totally kills my suspension of disbelief in the gamemakers as threats. very few people would be actually interested in continuously watching days-long, unedited livestreams of teenagers hunting and fishing and occasionally kissing. it doesn't make sense as a story about entertainment, because the events on screen would simply not be logically all that entertaining. the only reason the gamemakers don't act to force katniss towards more action is that collins plainly does not seem as interested in writing action. and that's really the root of the first two books' weird genre problem.

since collins seems to want to focus on wilderness survival rather than action, neither genre can properly shine. as a reader, i'm always feeling antsy whenever katniss takes a break to nap for a day, and I'm always frustrated whenever an an action scene is cut short instead of staying excitingly tense. the action stakes never feel believable to me because it seems like they only exist when the plot remembers they should. the survival stakes just feel like a tiresome chore in a story that should have much more urgent concerns. it's just a really weird choice. why write a death game story if you're often disinterested in the stuff the premise demands?

I also don't think that the rebellion/war story is done well in book 3, for similar pacing and tension issues (that book DRAGS in ways that actively undermine what it seems to be trying to do.) but this little essay has run on long enough. this has been a really longwinded way of saying "these books struggle a lot with tension and pacing and it makes them feel weird in how they play to their supposed premises," but I did want to approach it from a genre angle because that's what I was thinking about while reading. what is genre, after all, but a shorthand to communicate expected aspects of setting, focus, mechanical structure of a story?

[roxiusagi]

The strugglersss

[katnissmellarkkk]

Katniss and Haymitch only calling each other attractive only in roundabout ways is so funny to me 😂

[snowsinterlude]

❛ 📖 - admit it.❜

(coriolanus x f. reader)

summary: no matter what coriolanus would tell you, you'd never admit that you felt something for him other than hate. or at least you thought. based on this ask

c.w: enemies to lovers but both are in love, smut, nsfw, hate fucking in the beginning, classroom sex, humiliation, degrading, p in v, overstimulation, dumbification, choking, fem reader, oral recieving (m. recieving), dom coriolanus.

you and coriolanus snow had a very strange relationship, to say the least. you were one of the main things he genuinely smiled to. you, on the other hand, prayed to god that he would choke on his bread and die.

or so you thought.

the more you said you hated him, the more your brain seemed to think about him. his gentle tone of voice when you debated with him seemed to make your heart heavy with each beat. the way he never seemed angry at you even when you cussed him and cursed his entire generation. or even the way his knee brushed against yours when you both had to sit side by side in the library.

hands on the desk, you gathered your things as the entire class vanished with the blink of an eye, only to be surprised with him leaning in on you, his hands grabbing the desk as there seemed to be a spark on his eyes while his lips curled up in a smirk, a devious smirk you wish to choke out of him.

"what are you doing?" you asked, angrily frowning at him.

"i'm trying something new." he said, towering over him.

"try it on someone else." you said, shoving your books into your bag and zipping it up.

"stop being so stubborn. i just need you to tell me the truth." he said, supporting himself on the desk in front of you as he pushed you to sit, kindly. it seemed like there was no violence on his being when it comes to you.

"what truth? the truth that i want to choke that dumb smirk off your lips?" you said, almost barking at him as you looked up to his eyes. of course. if you looked at the part of his body that was facing you, you would be damned.

"no, dear. the truth that you like me. like, actually like me." you gulped down, looking up at him before standing up abruptly.

"if that's what people are telling you then you should find a better brain to stop believing in that shit." you said right to his face, turning your back on him and walking away, only to be stopped in your way as he grabbed your arm and pushed you back, the surprise taking over your expression as your face met his chest.

"no one told me, dear." he said, looking down at you because of the size difference. "no one other than you, actually."

oh.

what?

"when did that happen? and where? in your dreams?" you asked, voice filled with loathe. ah, he found you so pretty. such a cute face.

"no. yesterday."

"yesterday i slapped you."

"yeah, but do you remember what you said?" he asked, taking the lead and to courage to kiss your forehead, your cheek, then your neck. you shivered, being held by his hands as yours pawed on his chest.

"stop that- that's a lie. i never said that!" you debated, trying to get away from him. luckily for him, you didn't even try your hardest.

"i'm gonna ask you again, okay? try to clear up your memories." he said "what did you told me yesterday, alongside with the lines 'get out of my head'?"

you flinched as you remembered. yesterday was the announcement of the hunger games, you remembered drinking a bit too much posca.

"...please tell me i throwed up on your shoes." you pleaded, eyes closing shut.

"much worse, dear." he chuckled. "you told me 'i can't stop thinking about you, day and night i crave for the moment i'll be on top of you, choking you while i-" you interrupted him with a slap on his face, your eyes welling with shining tears.

"i got it. stop talking." you said, gulping down the humiliation. you got out of his hold, stepping away and trying to leave, only to be prevented again. "let me go, please."

"it seems like i can't do such a thing, dear." he said, kissing the knuckles of your hand.

"why? aren't you done humiliating me?"

"no, it happens to be that i am also desiring for you to do that." he said, and you knew what he was referring to. "but it seems like i want to hear you say something, too."

"thus being..?" you arched your brow

"say you love me." he said, in a purr

"no. never. i don't." you tried to pull away. not strong enough.

"you do. admit it." and you said don't, only for him to say "let me do only one thing, then" you didn't say anything for the first time. didn't fought back, didn't debated, and he smiled, kissing you deeply and holding you by the waist.

you gave in completely, his lips kissed yours non-stop, peck after peck, kiss after kiss, and when you noticed, you had your legs wrapped around his waist, trying to get some friction while he sat you on a desk, you mewling as he sucked on your boobs and kissed your sensitive neck.

"snow, snow- stop it. please. s-somebody will come in and-" another moan, this time due the way his teeth bite your nipple kindly, sucking on it.

"and they will see that you're so in love with me you didn't even held back to open your legs." he teased, kissing your lips as you stared at him, a trembling frown on your forehead. "on your knees."

you obeyed, almost in a trance. yeah, it had to be a trance. some kind of hypnotic trick he did on you, because the way you melted when seeing his cock made your brain wash away every coherent thought as you sucked his tip, licking the pre cum of his angry cockhead.

"god, you're so eager, i didn't even need to tell you what to do." he chuckled, caressing your hair as you kissed the tip before engulfing all you could into your pretty mouth, the sounds you made on his dick driving him crazy with the unknown need he had to have you sucking him, looking him with that angry and needy stare you gave him.

you were irresistable to him. a need that he didn’t knew he needed. the seconds went flying as you bobbed your head on him, holding his hips as he fucked your throat just as eagerly as you.

he pulled you away, preventing himself from cumming on your mouth.

"ready to admit it?"

"coriolanus, i don't love you." you said, as breathless as he was.

"you just sucked my cock and you're gonna say you don't have the tiniest bit of affection for me?" he arched his brow, chuckling as he got you sat again, panties drenched with your wetness as you opened your legs without him even telling you to. "and yet you still spread your legs apart to show me just how wet you are." he said, pecking your lips again with a devious smile. "what a dirty girl we have here, huh."

you mewled at the feeling of his tip teasing your clit, your pussy was just too wet for your liking. when he pulled your panties aside, being met with your cries-without-tears and the glistening view of your wet cunt, he laughed, frowning at you as his thumb teased your sweet clit.

"and here i was thinking this thing of 'your body tells the truth' was wrong." he said, looking at your flustered face. "dear, your body is telling me what you don't."

"i don't love you, it is just a physical common reaction t-to intimacy." you groaned, feeling your gummy walls meeting the tip of his cock. "fuck-!"

"what is it? i thought you said something." he teased you. "you know, i guess i can't hear you because of all those wet sounds your cunt is making." he said, grunting when he went all the way into you.

it felt so good. your brain was a mess. you were a mess. everytime he thrusted back and forth into you your moans couldn't be stopped, and his soft groans and grunts and the way he talked so dirty about how wet and nasty you were, your pussy clenched more on his cock. god, it was so good. it felt so good. his tip kissing your cervix just the right way, finding your pleasure spot and hitting it multiple times when he noticed how good you seemed to be feeling.

however, fucking in missionary was making you feel a terrible sensation that you would end up saying-

"i-i l...love you- f-fuck, coryo! i love you!" you cried out, every deep thrust he gave you making you melt into a mess of moans and cries of love. his eyes shone, meeting your crying teary ones.

"repeat it? i think i didn't heard you right." he teased, licking your tears.

"i love you! stop- stop making me say that-! ah, it's so deep-!" you moaned, fucking your hips on his moving ones. he chuckled, kissing your temple.

"i love you too, dear." he said, looking into your eyes and kissing you, and with all the love you denied him, you kissed him back. "i love you more than you'll ever know." he said again.

once again, his dick touched the one spot that pleasured you the most, making you came around his cock, crying while your eyes shone at the sight of his cock so deep into you that you immediatly melted away again, your pussy gushing and tightening around his cock while he throbbed, cumming inside you.

finally, you admited it. and he was more than happy to call you the future mrs. snow.

[noveaucolors]

i heard we’re rereading the hunger games again so here’s some book katniss for your viewing pleasure

[itsajollyjester]

The amount of comfort Finnick and Annie must have had to bring each other over the years makes me weepy