redbrunja: (the hunger games | ever in your favor)
redbrunja ([personal profile] redbrunja) wrote2010-08-10 03:36 am

THE HUNGER GAMES DRABBLE MEME

With the release of the finale book of The Hunger Games Trilogy imminent, it seems like an excellent time for a comment meme to whet fandom's appetite. (Plus I just finished my third reread of the first two books and yet still want more!)

So I present.....


THE HUNGER GAMES DRABBLE MEME

How To Play
1. Place a prompt as a comment.
2. Comment with as many prompts as you want. Seriously. Don’t be shy.
3. Reply to a prompt comment with corresponding story! This is a “drabble meme,” so no pressure to write anything more than 500 words. But I doubt any lucky OP would receive an unexpected epic with anger, right? So write whatsha want.
4. Feel free to pimp out this meme to all the communities you can think of + your flist! The more the merrier!

Prompt Examples
A lyric or quote! Katniss/Peeta, "Lend me a helping hand ‘cause I’ve been treating your heaven like a one night stand."
A word! Gale, patient.
A kink! Madge/Katniss, blindfold.
A bit of dialogue! Finnick/Annie, "I just miss you when you're gone."
An action! Prim, mending clothes.
A situation! Johanna/Haymitch, killing time at the Capital.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

(meme format totally cribbed from [livejournal.com profile] stainofmylove .)

time to kill

[identity profile] joyfraser.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 05:58 am (UTC)(link)
It's four hours into the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games and both of Johanna's tributes are dead. She gets a little emotional (just a little bit, because on the train the girl had talked about her eight sisters and how they never had enough to eat, how her name had been in the reaping one hundred and sixteen times but she'd been so close to escaping it, just one year away) so she leaves the control room. They don't need her there, and even if they did Blight's more experienced and has less of a tendency to drive off sponsors. Not that they had any this year. Not with the little lovers from District 12 running around holding hands.

She gives herself twenty minutes to meander about the Training Center. There are cameras everywhere, of course, but with the bloodbath currently occurring miles away at the Cornucopia, she is not at risk of being seen. This affords her a sense of solidarity, which is a dangerous thing to have around here.

Of course she isn't alone, though, because she's nearly tripping over the very last person she wants to see. Haymitch Abernathy. District 12.

It's not the Twelve tributes' fault that they're so desperately in the love or whatever (she doesn't know what it's like, maybe it does make you crazy), but she still blames them for her kids not making it out of the bloodbath. Blaming the Capitol no longer offers her any peace of mind, it's just familiar sounds.

"Watch where you're going, Seven." He says. She thinks carefully and decides this is the first time he's called her anything besides Sweetheart.

"Abernathy." She says shortly. She's always disliked him. So many Victors arrive at the Capitol drunk or out of their minds on morphling. She thinks this the ultimate sign of weakness; they've all been through the exact same thing. Anyone who can't mask their remorse didn't deserve to win at all. "Your kids are still in it. What are you doing out here?" He doesn't even have a partner. Nobody is watching over the tributes from District Twelve.

"Killing time." He says, tipping his bottle of liquor back again.

"That's a horrible choice of words." She bites, but her voice isn't quite as reprimanding as she wanted it to be, and, okay, she might be smiling a little. Somewhere there is a line between horrible and hilarious and she lost sight of it a long time ago.

And then all of a sudden they're both laughing and he's offering her the bottle. She sits down next to him, unable to stop laughing, although she's not really laughing any more, her body is just shaking violently. She's surprised when he pats her back in a vaguely comforting fashion. It seems uncharacteristic of him. But for all the ways they differ from one another, they do share a crucial similarity. Neither of them have ever taken a tribute home with them, and it's beginning to wear them out.

[identity profile] wolfpacklove.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
Peeta used to dream. He used to be an optimist, always seeing the silver lining, all that bull. Problem with the silver lining is that it's no replacement for a sunny day.

His heart had stopped the day he saw the ring on Katniss's finger. He'd always wanted to see a ring there, but only if it was from him. And this ring wasn't from him. Gale appears, kisses her lightly on the lips and they walk away, arms linked and completely oblivious to Peeta standing broken-hearted only a few yards away.

Peeta doesn't show up to their wedding. He knows it killed Katniss, not seeing him in the crowd, but he just couldn't take it. He'd send his congratulations later.

Peeta doesn't dream anymore, because she let him down. It's hard to dream with a broken heart.

[identity profile] akemilove.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
finnick/anyone; smut.

This is my cue to run away now.

[identity profile] joyfraser.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:27 am (UTC)(link)
Katniss likes rosemary. It's easy to grow, tastes good in most dishes, and catches a fair price at market. Katniss selects most of her favorite things by their practical value.

Prim likes rosemary because its sharp smell fills her nostrils and its flowers are dainty and look nice tucked behind her ear. She likes it because it stands for remembrance and because of the song that goes parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme and tells of true love. She likes it because there are stories and poems about it that are older than the Capitol itself and no matter how hard they try to remind the residents of District Twelve that there will never be an after the Capitol, they can't make them forget that there was a before the Capitol.

While they're watching the Games, Prim's mother tells her first about katniss and primrose, which she knows about already. She tells her about clove, which Prim doesn't think she'll ever like quite the same anymore. She tells her about rue and how it's beautiful but dangerous, about how its oil can cause blisters and stomach pains.

When Prim watches Katniss tuck the small and quietly dangerous girl from District Eleven into her sleeping back, it makes her feel like she's there, with her sister holding her warm and keeping her safe. And then the next day she feels nothing like Rue at all, because she's helping Katniss in ways Prim never could. But when Katniss sings to Rue, Prim feels irreversibly connected to her counterpart. This is a girl she never met and knows nothing about, but Prim knows they would have been best friends. She would have told Rue that climbing trees was dangerous, she would have cleaned out her scrapes and cuts if she ever misstep and fell, she would have braided rosemary sprigs into her dark hair.

When Katniss returns home, she tells Prim a secret. After Rue died, after the singing was done and the cameras cut away from them, Katniss had wreathed her body in flowers. She never tells Prim what type of flowers, but she pictures rosemary and pansies.

Prim plants rosemary in the window boxes of their home in the Victor's Village. It's her own small rebellion, but a private one she holds close to her heart and tells nobody about.

[identity profile] joyfraser.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
Career tributes, "Are you satisfied with an average life?"

[identity profile] wolfpacklove.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:42 am (UTC)(link)
this was awesome <3

[identity profile] joyfraser.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
thank you :)

[identity profile] poppypickle.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:56 am (UTC)(link)
Thank GOD someone finally suggested smut...;-)

[identity profile] electrumqueen.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 10:49 am (UTC)(link)
katniss/peeta; "oh darling, i don't think this serenade is gonna carry through."

[identity profile] electrumqueen.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 11:10 am (UTC)(link)
[i'm sorry, this has no capital letters and may not be what you're looking for. :/]
--

"you are," he says, "so beautiful." the colour of his eyes is deep and bright and infinite, so bright it almost hurts to look at.

you are dripping, still. there is salt crusted on the roof of your tongue, stuck in the back of your nose. every time you suck in air you feel like choking. you close your eyes to shield them from the intensity of his gaze, see the red blood dripping across the inside of your eyelid.

his hand on your wrist is warm, is too warm. you are used to the saltwater, you are used to the cold. it feels like you're burning where he's made contact, it feels like you are on fire.

you almost want to go back into the sea, to be free of it. but the arena is a helicopter away, impassable, and your legs are still shaky so that dry land feels like a blessing.

you open your eyes so they will be clean, and meet his gaze. "you look like the sea," you tell him.

--

you are aware that you are not -- all together -- functional. they talk to you as though you are a small child, but you aren't; you're just tired and scared, all the time.

he is in love with all your broken places, all the ways in which you do not make a whole. he likes to sit with you and tell you stories; he likes to braid your hair and tell you that you are safe, now.

there is something about him that grounds you, that centres you; when you are with him you feel less like you are about to wash away with the tide. this does not stop you wondering why he does it, though.

he tells you it is love.

you do not want to tell him you don't understand that concept anymore.

--

he kisses you and you bite his lip open kissing back, and all of a sudden you know. it hits you like a tsunami, like a tidal wave; you tell yourself that you are not driftwood, that you are anchored. (but this is a lie; you are anchored in him.)

you say, "you are in love with the games." your voice gets pitchy, gets high, gets scared; you force yourself not to look away.

his fingertips are under your chin, tilting your face up. "oh, annie," he says, soft, sweet. "i'm so sorry."

you don't know who he's sorry for.

Re: Going sober and back again

[identity profile] angerfish.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 02:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh god this is perfect.

Also DDDDD:

[identity profile] wolfpacklove.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 03:00 pm (UTC)(link)
why thank you :D

[identity profile] redbrunja.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 05:08 pm (UTC)(link)
*flails*

SO AWESOME.

Re: time to kill

[identity profile] angerfish.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:03 pm (UTC)(link)
love this. very insightful :)

[identity profile] andystar101.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Beautiful

[identity profile] thankthatstar.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 06:46 pm (UTC)(link)
ahhh i love this! thank you :) ♥

[identity profile] hungrytiger11.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, this is like poetry, seriously. Very, raw and wonderful and fully of gorgeous language!

[identity profile] hungrytiger11.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
I want to quote favorite parts but that'd be the entire fic. This is so fully of heart-break and beauty. The choice of second person and present tense is unusual but works beautifully. Loved it!

[identity profile] hungrytiger11.livejournal.com 2010-08-11 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Thoughtful and graceful piece. I like how this highlights the differences and similarities between both the sisters but also between Prim and Rue.

[identity profile] electrumqueen.livejournal.com 2010-08-12 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
thank you! :)

[identity profile] redbrunja.livejournal.com 2010-08-12 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, it was my pleasure!

[identity profile] redbrunja.livejournal.com 2010-08-12 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
My pleasure! (Seriously. it's so my pleasure.)

[identity profile] wordweaverrr.livejournal.com 2010-08-12 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
Katniss/Peeta. "Trust me on this one, I've got a bad feeling. (I'm losing you)."
Bring on the angst.

[identity profile] electrumqueen.livejournal.com 2010-08-12 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
--

He says, "What are we doing?"

She bites her lip. "Hell if I know."

He wants to say, do you miss him. He wants to say, why did you choose him, in the end?

The irony of it kind of chokes him; Peeta won, in the end; it is Peeta who she wanted. But it is Gale who made it out. Now everything is fucked up.
She is kissing him, hard and fast and fierce. Her hands are behind her back, so the only place they are touching is their mouths.

He thinks it is to shut him up.

Her eyes are closed; he can see every eyelash, dark and separate against her skin. He knows she is thinking about Peeta, knows it deep in his heart. It makes him wish he had been there, to take the bullet.

--

[identity profile] redbrunja.livejournal.com 2010-08-12 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
When I read the last line, I literally had to wave my hands in the air.

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