#the Capitol sucks

[redwinetalks]

Thinking about how Effie wore a head scarf in Mockingjay part 1 to express herself since she didn’t have her wigs. How they used to be all the rage and we see that in TBOSAS and that makes me feel things.

I also love seeing the similarities in Effie and Tigris. Their love of fashion and expressing themselves through it. How they’re both Capitol, but caring people. And the growth that Effie goes through with Katniss and Peeta vs the Tigris and Coryo. Like Tigris continued to be kind by seeing the evil in Coryo and Effie grew more understanding because of Katniss and Peeta going through this trauma that she finally sees.

[hungergamesheadcanons]

Murderer/Protector

Johanna felt like she was born to look out for Finnick.

To be fair, she hadn't at first. She had entered the Capitol thinking like every other Victor did - that Odair had fallen into degeneracy from the moment he'd arrived, dressing in little clothing and flirting with everything with a pulse. She had been prepared to thoroughly despise the man, to fight off unwanted advances for the rest of her life.

She had been proven wrong the instant her family had been killed.

She had rejected Snow's proposition, of course she had, but it still didn't prepare her for the grief that had torn through her system. Finnick - though at the time she had referred to him as nothing but Odair - had been the one to find her, screaming and wailing on the ground floor of the tribute centre. He must have known what happened - how couldn't he? - as he'd simply helped her up and taken her to the lift, up to his and Mags and the other tributes from 4s floor. He'd deposited her on the couch, sniffling and coughing, walking to the fridge and pouring her a glass of water right in sight so she could see he'd put nothing in it.

She'd done nothing but react, throwing it back in his face and screaming at him instead, that it wasn't fair and why did he keep his family and a whole lot of other accusations that seemed to roll off him like the water dripping down his chin. He had said nothing, simply letting her scream her woes out before she collapsed onto his shoulder in a mess of tears. He had loosely held her, enough for her to pull away when she wanted, and when she did he had dutifully poured another glass of water. She drank it that time, shamefully averting her eyes from the sea green ones that were filled with nothing but concern.

They'd talked for a long time that night - about her situation and Finnick's. About how he hadn't even been allowed the choice, about how his family were threatened by his noncompliance as well. He'd told her, his voice distant, about how his first client was on the night he was taken out of the games. Before the Victor interview, even. As he was airlifted from the arena, he had found himself in the arms of one of the prominent gamemakers, who had proceeded to take him then and there - bloody, dirty, and terrified. He had been drugged just before, so he couldn't move, couldn't fight back, even though the golden trident was still in his hands. He told Johanna that it never stopped, that you never left the arena, simply changed the playing grounds.

She'd asked him if it got any better. He didn't respond.

From there on out their relationship changed. They weren't romantically involved, as many rumours liked to believe. She had seen them on social media, the idea of tiny angry Johanna Mason dominating big hunky Finnick Odair. The rumours ranged from speculation to full on sexual fantasies - ones that had caused her to throw her phone through a window and into a fountain. No, they were friendly, that was it. More than best friends, but nowhere near lovers.

There were only so many labels you could give to someone who knew your life so intimately.

They spent many a night together simply chatting, Finnick leaning on her as she didn't like looking or feeling weak in any way, whereas he didn't have those restrictions. She tended to speak about home, about the lumber mills and her family. She spoke about her siblings, about their chaotic antics that caused her father to laugh til he cried and her mother to shake her head with a tiny smile. She spoke of small children climbing big big trees, feeling like no one could touch them there, and adults luring them down with treats so that work could resume as per usual. She spoke of wild cats that the children would ply with food, lightly stroking their heads so they wouldn't get spooked. The nights she spoke were the good nights, both of them smiling and laughing.

Sometimes the nights Finnick spoke would be good nights. Sometimes he too would talk about home, about the shanties sung on fishing vessels. He would sing for her, on those nights, any shanty she wanted. She liked the upbeat ones, ones like Randy-Dandy-O, Drunken Sailor, Chicken on a Raft. Finnick preferred the slower, sadder ones, like Leave Her Johnny and Lowlands Away. He would talk about the ocean, himself and his brothers running into the cold water on an evening and splashing each other as the sunset painted the sky and sea in hues of orange and pink. He spoke of building sandcastles, collecting shells, his first catch, his learning to swim.

Most of the time though, Finnick's nights were the bad nights.

He spoke of clients, too cruel and callous to care that the person they were having sex with was a child. He spoke of clients who wouldn't let him say no, who would beat and bruise him and make him thank them for the privilege. He spoke of people who would tie him up and abuse him, of people who forced him to tie them up and abuse them, of people who wanted nothing more than to feel powerful. He spoke of forced drug use, of being plied with alcohol, spoke of people who wanted nothing more than to tear him to shreds, spoke of being kicked out of the door in pieces and trying to glue the shards together before Mags saw him. He spoke of Mags, who had apologised to him for helping him win the games, who had cried in his shoulder when she heard of what had been done to him as Finnick solemnly held her frail body close. He spoke of his father, who had bought into the Districts hatred of the Capitol's Golden Boy, who would not let him near his younger sisters or brothers for fear they would also fall into degeneracy. He spoke of his mother, who wrote him tear-stained letters asking him what happened to her little boy, and that he could tell them anything and they would help him. He spoke of how that was the problem, that they would get themselves killed were they to know that Finnick was being raped on the daily. He spoke of his two older brothers, strong and muscular, who would have crushed clients skulls if they knew what had been done to him. He spoke of his two younger sisters and little brother, all 3 incredibly skilled with creating and throwing fish-hooks, who could silently murder anyone who had touched him and probably not get caught.

On these nights, Johanna held him tightly, feeling him tremble in her arms. Neither of them cried, too far gone for that, but both of them grieved the lives they could have had, the childhoods that had been torn from them, the blood that had been forcefully put on their hands. Sometimes Finnick would break beneath her, and she'd try to comfort him. She remembered one night in particular, where it had felt like he'd shattered, great hulking sobs tearing out of his throat as he hid his face in her neck. She had tried to stroke his hair for comfort, but her nails had snagged in the knots left behind by someone who had pulled too much and too hard, and Finnick had frozen.

"Gentle, please." He had whispered, voice thick with tears.

Guilt had filled every inch of Johanna's body, and she had pursed her lips. "I don't know how," She had said back, and it was true. Johanna didn't know how to be gentle anymore - violence was her thing. She was crude, brash, horrible, a nasty person. She was a murderer, through and through, and this nasty, horrible persona she adopted kept her safe.

But Finnick had looked up to her, those same sea-green eyes that had looked at her with such gentle concern filled with trust. "It's like petting a cat." He had mumbled, and the pieces fell into place.

So when they were alone, they had a pact. Johanna could relearn how to be gentle, to not be brash and abrasive, to feel her emotions without hiding them behind a cocky front. And Finnick would let himself hurt, would let himself seek out soft touches and affection with no expectations behind it, would let himself be imperfect and ugly-cry with no fear of cameras catching him.

She refused to tell him how her public mask had shifted though.

Her mask had changed the instant she had been forced to a party, seeing some sleazy so-and-so put his hands all over a distinctly uncomfortable Finnick, forcing alcohol into his hands, getting close, too close, far too close. Johanna hadn't even noticed her feet carrying her forward until she was behind her friend, nearly going to punch him in the face, before she stopped herself.

Finnick's mask couldn't be shattered by Johanna - he still had people he needed to protect. If she assaulted this man here and now, both of them would be in danger.

Johanna may be a murderer, but at the very least she could try and protect Finnick.

So she lied, tapping Finnick on the shoulder and telling him that Mags needed him urgently for mentor responsibilities. She let him make his apologies, a scowl instinctively painting itself on her face when the greasy git tried to make another pass for Finnick, before ushering him away. She could hear the man complaining behind her, about how getting a slot with Finnick was so expensive and life finding gold in a river, and grinned.

She had no problems being the bad guy if that meant Finnick had at least someone on his side. If that meant Finnick had someone who could protect him from some of the cruelty of the Capitol, even if she couldn't protect him from all of it.

The more they liked him, the more protected he was. The more he appeared to be the agreeable, flirty, fuckboy persona they had assigned to him, the more they supported him, elevating him to this level of almost untouchableness. Were Snow to take any action against him or his family, the Capitol would riot, but that would only work while Finnick was in their good graces. So Johanna would willingly become the crass, rude bitch who cockblocks the Capitol's elite to keep Finnick and his family safe, to keep Finnick from being forced into another bed, to keep Finnick from being hit and hurt again.

And if when she managed to pull him back to District 4's floor they collapsed onto a couch, talking quietly about home and their experiences, the Capitol would never see it.

They didn't deserve their vulnerability.

[okay-letsdothisonelasttime]

I would pay ready money for a well written fanfic in which katniss is the one left in the capitol after the quell instead of peeta.

That her memories are wiped and she is used as a weapon against the rebells.

Simply because I would love a winter solider esk moment of:

'Who the hell is Katniss'.

Followed by peeta, finnick and haymitch being devastated for the rest of time.

Thank you.

[rowan-guerrins]

people on tiktok well on all social media sites actually will loudly critique the fact some people (especially those who only watched the movies) “didn’t get the point of the hunger games” and then turn around and say gale is the worst person in the universe and treat him like he’s a monster, and that all these traits are innate characteristics completely isolated from the circumstances in which he lived and the people around him. like girlie i think maybe YOU didn’t get the point here either.

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Was thinking about how in Electric Rebels (great fic from @ylvisruinedmylife go read it if you haven't) the tributes all fake their death and then I was thinking about all the 'tributes escaping the zoo' AU's and my dumb little brain mashed them together.

What if, after escaping the zoo through whatever means you decide to go with, the tributes realize that they can't just walk out of the city? And while going through the sewers or the tunnels is certainly an option, they have to get down there in the first place and they are 24 starved children with worn down, ragged clothing completely covered in dirt and grime. And they can't just rock up at someone's house to use their shower and steal their clothing. They're in the middle of the city and they have a few hours before their absence is discovered. Then there will be an all-out manhunt and, again, they're a big group of children who all stand out like sore thumbs in this city full of rich snobs. Also, someone brings up the splendid point that they'll never be able to truly live even if they make it back home. Either they leave all their loved ones and live in the wilderness, or they go home and risk death every day if they're caught. So, they come up with the perfect solution: Fake their deaths! No one will look for dead kids, after all. Except they're not on camera, they'll be doing it irl, so they have to be very careful about how they handle this.

Wovey and Bobbin mention a warehouse in the city where peacekeeper uniforms are kept, and a plan is concocted. Some of the bigger guys pose as peacekeepers, because due to their frame they're more likely to pass. As soon as they wash off the dirt and grime and slightly restyle their hair, no one will recognize them. Then they get to the fun part: crafting everyone's death scene. There's fake bullets and blood, there's some more grizzly physical fights, there's a nasty fall down the river, and there's a poisoning. They pick a spot where they'll hide out once they're "dead" and the tributes pretending to be peacekeepers have dragged them off and then the show begins. Marcus, Facet, Reaper, and Jessup easily infiltrate the peacekeeper ranks while Circ and Teslee fuck with the cameras around the city. Every "death" is caught on camera, and every time the four have a partner to patrol with the moment where they knock them out is mysteriously missing...

All of the video footage is used by the Capitol as proof of how strong they are, and while the president gives a speech about how any attempt to fight against their might is futile, the tributes laugh from the comfort of their homes, reunited with their families and loved ones as they hide away until they age out of the reaping system and are forgotten by anyone who cares.

PS: That poisoning is Treech. He will never not be an actor to me, so he gets a more public and emotional death scene that has several witnesses. I might write that scene because I have it clearly in my head. It's got hints of a full fix it too, because what happens could inspire the Capitol to reevalute their morals and cause them to stop the games altogether because a citizen actually tries to help Treech and a "peacekeeper" (lets go with Reaper) rips them off of him to keep up the ruse and also show the citizen how district people are treated on the daily.

[felixravinstills]

weird somehow i ended up yapping in ur inbox again

anyway. on my drive home i got to thinking about your boy max and what he might have been like as a president before the rebellion. (and i might just be misremembering so if i am just delete this and save me the humiliation) i was wondering if you had any thoughts to spare?

also on a somewhat related note- what do you think his childhood was like? (which is probably a weird question but i feel like your blog is a safe space to dissect the ravinstills)

I always love to talk about my good friend Max! What a guy! I hope you all understand that I know he's awful!

Anyway, thanks for the ask! You're always welcome here! I got pretty out of control while rambling, so if you want me to elaborate on something just ask!

I mention this in Si Deleamini, Deleamur, but the Ravinstills got on the wrong side of the presidential administration before Max's and his family basically got decimated (kind of like what's going to happen in the future *gunshot*)

As I offhandedly mentioned in the same fic, Max', Albanus (his brother), and their mother got to live because their mother was related to the secretary of health.

Max is the older brother so he feels a lot of responsibility towards Albanus.

Max also kind of idealizes his brother even before he dies of an illness after Max becomes president. To Max, Albanus is this sweet kid who doesn't understand the harsh realities of the world, but the truth it that Albanus does! And what he doesn't understand, he probably could! But Max just thinks it's his duty to not get Albanus involved too much which damages their relationship (Max will do the same thing to Felix)

I do like to imagine parallels between Felix and his grandfather, so Max isn't totally making things up when he's seeing similarities between the two. He's just also not seeing either of them clearly.

The time that Max grew up in was pretty tumultuous with politics happening (in the form of violence) in the streets or in the Districts through proxies. I imagine this sparked him to want to kind of tame that chaos (the answer... backdoor politics and assassination? max... please....)

He's internally angry and resentful and his origins kind of parallel a certain Coriolanus Snow in that his family has had a fall from grace

They aren't financially struggling (although they've lost money) but the drop in influence and standing is frustrating

During his Academy years, he meets Volumnia, and they match each other's freak a little too well

He has ideas for control and power, and everything he says is proving her right about the world: humans are selfish and savage

I imagine Gaul being from a less influential family (in my hc) means he doesn't feel threatened by her as he would others and that is why he lets her be his actual friend (this will carry on into their adulthood with the more fucked up, she needs him to exert power.)

Max has a face/presence that makes you think he's judging you. His classmates saw him as levelheaded and smart, but his stoic face had them jumping to conclusions that they were wrong about something

He likes watching them squirm trying to correct themselves when they are already right <- Volumnia sees through him and is immediately like 'oh? he's just like me for real!'

His rise to power was rife with murder as well. Volumnia thinks it's a great way to amass power! Albanus thinks it's about revenge and while a little disturbed lets it slide. They are both equally right about what it's about for Max.

Pre-Rebellion, I don't think he's a great guy (but at least not complicit in sending 23 children to their deaths every year? the bar is in hell)

Max runs the country like he accidentally runs his family by being emotionally unavailable and having people clamoring for his attention. (this applies pre and post rebellion to me, but post rebellion Max is also just... tired)

Like... I imagine that unlike Snow who kills off his competition (which Max does for sure too but directly? only if they've done something or are caught red-handed about to do something.) He avoids really having competition by having potential rivals in competition amongst themselves

He bestows political favor readily to someone and then stops and does it to someone else. These two will be in competition trying to outperform each other (yields good results and if they get too distracted by each other than Max will find some other person to replace both). If one succeeds so much that they may challenge Max politically, well... usually the other one will take care of it before Max gets his hands dirty.

[hellsite-hungergames]

Was I the only homeschooled kid forced to learn cursive before print?

[home-and-having-tea]

Currently having a migraine over the current state of this country. Is this what it felt like to live in Germany in the early to mid 1900s. What's the saying again, those who know history are doomed to watch others repeat it?

[degenderates]

Fuck Kim reynolds

[watergave]

@1stdandelion

even less than a shell of her former self, she realizes when looking at this boy that her daughter is only a few years older than him. ( the capitol didn't get her, too, right? ) it's the first coherent thought she's had in. . . years. lucy coral has been stripped of her name, her child and her own mind. they only brought in this madwoman to come talk to the boy ( she doesn't know what he's here; she doesn't dare ask ) as some sort of torture. lucy is to discover what would hurt him the most. hopefully, the worst that could happen is being in a room with a lunatic. ❝ you are. . . ❞ voice is husky from years of screaming more than talking. she points at him. ❝ your hair is yellow, like mine. ❞ she lifts some of her limp locks for him to see. ❝ you are from four, too? ❞ she's already off-task, but what had they expected when they decided to use her as a spy?

[boyentity]

>:(

[basicallyjustmuggleremuslupin]

WHY'D THEY HAVE TO KILL HER?? crying, sobbing, throwing up

[hungergamesheadcanons]

Do you think Capitol Citizens write fanfictions about their favourite tributes?

Like, do you think someone in the Capitol wrote a fanfiction about Katniss helping Rue to the end and killing herself so the kid could win? Do you reckon there are fanfictions about the tributes who didn't win, exploring how they might have won them? Like a fanfiction about Thresh if he didn't let Katniss go, or a story about Clove and Cato winning if Thresh hadn't killed Clove?

Do you reckon there are fandom wars, people claiming that the 65th games were so much better than the 72nd, and vice versa? Do you reckon people pin popular Victors like Gloss and Finnick against each other, each defending their chosen idol like their life depends upon it?

[okay-letsdothisonelasttime]

Okay okay.... but like has anyone made a one-shot or short novela of kitniss & Appalachian mythology on ao3?

Cause like dirstic 12 is out in Appalachia, and she spends so much time out in the woods...

Surely someone has done an ao3 fic of her hearing the 'hey' that's so common in the mythological tales of that region.

Or the mimicry thats so prevalent in the areas mythology? Or her dad telling her to 'see the tree, but not look between them.'

I would just love a young katniss horror story that had absolutely nothing to do with the games, and everything to do with her father's/native teachings.

Just a thought, and please correct me if this is appropriative or problematic in any way.

[faebriel]

ough *roblox damage noise* thinking about niki’s speeches at the green festival/doomsday but in the context of hunger games au

burr kai faebriel has caused me brainrot

THE BRAINROT SPREADS

i feel like before her games and during them niki is running on pure survival mode....she works better in communities but I think part of her would be so cautious in the arena because she knows only one of them can make it out of the arena and she has wilbur counting on her, it has to be her, and the idea of betraying her allies so violently turns her stomach a little too much to be making any inspiring speeches.

after, though.....

okay it's difficult. because she is so closely monitored by the capitol, there is very little she can do - they can go back to her district and find her friends, wilbur is still in their clutches, even she and jack are not really safe themselves. and also i think something that people kind of overlook with niki (myself included) is that like... during the manberg era in canon she despises schlatt, don't get me wrong, but in the early days she is scared of him. she reacts fearfully when she sees he's online and she tries to avoid him at all costs. she'll spit in his face when she actually has to speak with him, she puts on a brave face, but that doesn't mean she's not scared. (also i think this is kind of an overlooked part of her character because we all just remember her being a fucking badass whenever she does interact with him. she's not brave because she's an unfeeling girlboss, she's brave because she's scared and she feels alone and abandoned but she stands up for herself and for l'manberg anyway!!!)

ANYWAY my point is she's still scared when she leaves the area, especially as she starts her victory tour...... she has thousands of capitol eyes on her and it's uncomfortable and she doesn't like becoming a victor and a mentor. they don't have a great reputation in 12. after all, every victor in the capitol is another person who killed 12's children, and that's exactly how she's felt about all but one victor ever since she was old enough to be aware of the games. she knows that's how everyone else in every other district sees her, she knows the capitol is always watching her, and jack reminds her that there's no chance schlatt and his pals in government are happy with the mess she made of the arena, cracking open its fuel to spread the fire. (she wasn't thinking about that at the time, she was just thinking about surviving - but now she's painfully aware of the danger she's put herself and everyone she cares about in. it's uncomfortable to say the least.)

but then. i think bonding with the other victors empowers her. she starts to piece together that even if she feels extremely alone, there are people who feel the exact same way that she does. people who are a little cold to outsiders, but who can be worn down. it starts with people like puffy and sophie, and it spreads from there. not exactly loud speeches, but these brief flashes of empassioned conversation do get to happen, even if they're constrained to hushed whispers and dark closets. sometimes it's not even whispers at all. there are ways to communicate beyond her words, she's learning that now.

i think once district 13 comes in she'd be a real passionate orator. that's when she's the perfect balance of safe and furious to stand atop an upturned crate and start shouting her heart out. it just takes a long time for her to get there.

[hafwen]