go katniss

3

A thread about millennials and stories (sorry for all the typos I was fueled by too much emotion to type well)

When you meet someone that ships all your ships

Originally posted by lady-lacrosse


Originally posted by yesiamrowan


Originally posted by mephistoisback

The death of Finnick was, devastating…Him screaming in pain and then his last scream were he yells “Katniss” was the end of me.

8

       | headcanon asexuals

all your faves are ace part 1

dan vs phil golf with friends: a summary

platonic biffles wear matchy matchy golf hats

tiger lester

phil admires dan’s ball skills (“that was sexy wasn’t it”)

dan has powerful balls

phil has fondness for odd numbers

phil has blown a ball before

“big boy golf”

dan has a kink of people carrying his things

phil likes to “plan a whack”

the return of ‘we don’t have any other friends’

stalker butterfly

dan bites his tongue swear wise

“channel your inner golf”

phil’s sound effects are truly underrated

dan’s sarcastic applause

dan broke his swearing filter with wank and shit

“that was neat”

“phil you need to stop saying hole in one”

“i guess god hates you” (actually dan think back to the pokemon go vid u hypocrite)

britney spears parody

“that mole would get twatted into the floor”

“call me king of life”

i just realised phil looks like a sailor with his hat and i feel warm

dan bounces off course again and again

phil lester said spank we must alert the church elders

“team phil”

dan thought he’d got the hang of the hole but failed and went backwards

totally non-competitive bants

“don’t even look at me”

dan’s little laugh when he wins a hole

“hole thirteen, unlucky for some but not for philly” phil validates my birth date i’m counting it as a notice

phil’s motivational speech

“katniss is going to come and attack you”

dan tried to fuck up phil’s chances but it backfired

“phil that’s not straight”

“oh no phil, what a floppy ding dong”

dan’s eagle impression

“stop stroking my ball” - dan howell 2k17

“go log power”

“watch me perfectly bounce this up the crack”

“you were so far from the crack”

“you’re so silly!”

the obligatory ribena sip

“wank wank fuck shit”

“ooh, who’s your golf dad”

“i’m going to throw myself out the window”

“the game gets quit”

dan hacked the game and succeeded when he should’ve failed

“you can do it phil, i believe in you”

dan sings when he tastes victory

cocky baby blows raspberry at tolerant biffle

squishy dan face skin

“get the board hoe”

“what’s next, lester family trivia? i bet you’d lose that somehow”

good game sportsmanship handshake can’t wait for the handshake fic

“let’s go have a beer and talk about politics”

“see you on the green, crazies”

danisnotacaddylad

AmazingPutt

Writing Advice: At the Heart of Your Plot Lies a Question

I’ve been thinking a lot about story structure lately. It’s the thing I struggle with the most, as an author, and judging from a lot of stories I’ve read (and blurbs I’ve helped to write), it’s a big issue for others, too. A lot of times, people don’t realize that there are fundamental structural issues with their stories until they get to the marketing phase, when they go to write a blurb or query letter and realize they cannot condense their story. 

I have some bad news for you: If you can’t elevator pitch your book, there’s a good chance that the problem is the book’s plot, not your innate blurbing skills. 

I know. That’s a hard thing to swallow. And maybe I’m wrong - maybe you just need to work on your blurbing a little bit and it’ll all be just fine. 

But maybe I’m not wrong. In which case, just humor me for a second. Your story will thank you for it. 

Thing #1: Your world-building is not your story. 

It doesn’t matter how much careful thought and planning you’ve put into figuring out the logistics of your world’s science, economy, government, etc. The intricate backstories and family histories might be totally important, but they’re probably not the plot. Until you have characters who want things and obstacles in their path, you don’t have a story. 

Thing #2: Your character arc is not your plot 

Characters should change. Your character should be transformed by the events of the story. This is, ultimately, where the story lies. It’s not, however, the plot. Why, you ask? Because plots are actually pretty generic. A plot is a framework, a set of expectations and structural beats that hold up the story. The story is the character’s development between Point A and Point B. 

Thing #3: Plots are tied to genre 

In the sense that I’m using plot here - expectations and structural beats - I would argue that “plot” is the essential defining characteristic of genre. Which is to say, the thing that unites books within a genre is that they all have essentially the same plot. But how can that be, you ask? Because…

Thing #4: “Plot” = The Story Your Reader Asks (and you have to answer)

What is it that keeps a reader turning the page? What compels a reader to finish a story? Compelling characters, cool settings, sure, ok maybe. But I would argue that at its heart, the thing that makes any reader keep reading (as opposed to, say, watching TV or playing soccer or giving their cat a bath) is curiosity. 

Humans are naturally curious. We love gossip. We find it irresistible. There’s something in our genetic makeup that craves answers to questions, to gathering insider knowledge. 

Which means that if you ask a question, and it seems like a fairly interesting question, the person hearing it won’t be satisfied until they know the answer. 

So based on that assumption, I would argue that readers keep reading stories in order to find the answer to a question. I would also argue that, for the most part, the nature of that question is the same or pretty similar for all stories of a particular genre. 

Some story questions: 

  • Who did it? How did they do it? Why did they do it? (mystery) 
  • Will they succeed in time/before bad thing happens? (fantasy)
  • Who will come out on top? (epic fantasy) 
  • How could these two unlikely people possibly fall in love? (romance)
  • What actually happened? (thriller) 
  • How will they get out of this? (adventure) 
  • Are they going to survive? (horror)

Etc. etc. 

Different stories will have different flavors of these questions, but at its core, every story should have a central question that drives the narrative onward - everything else eventually feeds in to answering that question. 

You’ll note, too, that sometimes the question asked by the narrative itself is not really the question asked by the reader. For example: Ostensibly, the mystery in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is “What happened to Harriet?” But I think the real question is “How is the PI connected to the reporter? What’s actually going on here?” (which, you will note from our handy-dandy chart, makes this book a thriller and not a mystery). 

“What actually happened the night of the murders?” <- Dark Places by Gillian Flynn. Definitely another thriller. (See also: “What actually happened to Amy?” at the heart of Gone Girl.) 

“How is Katniss going to survive the Hunger Games?” (adventure! For all that it bills itself as a dystopia, Hunger Games is at its heart a survival story that calls back to Jack London). 

There are more questions than the ones I detailed above, but those are some starters to whet the appetite.. 

The important thing to remember is that if your story doesn’t have a central driving question, it doesn’t actually have a plot. It may have a character arc! Lots of things might happen! It may have a story. But it will have no plot. And your readers might not know that’s what’s wrong with it, but they’ll notice it. They’ll pick up on it. 

And when they do, what they’ll tell you is: The book is boring. 

So the next time you’re struggling to write the elevator pitch for your story, or the story just isn’t coming together for you, stop and ask: What is the main question? What is the question that’s going to keep the reader turning the page? 

“if i’m not supposed to ship it, then why’d they go and make it so deliciously shippable?” - an informative lecture and powerpoint presentation by me

Many Things

I know I promised the last part of Come On Baby, Light My Fire for today, but it’s been giving me issues. So I distracted myself by finishing up this, which I started for Mother’s Day, so it’s only a month late, no big deal. Haha. Anyhow, this is the entire piece I had planned. If you’ve read the first part when I posted it back in May, you can skim to the first line break or reread, whatever. This is completely unbeta’d so all mistakes or awkwardness are my fault. Also, it’s rated VERY MUCH M…for smut. Enjoy and everyone have a great weekend!


With a hefty sigh, Katniss falls back onto the bed and doesn’t move. She lays there with eyes shut, listening to the silence of the house and enjoying the peace for just a moment. There are dishes from dinner still piled in the sink, needing to be washed. A basket full of jumbled up laundry that she would need to fold and sort, unless she could convince Peeta to do that for her. Convincing usually doesn’t take much work since her husband is often eager to help in any way he can. She just feels guilty begging help from him late at night like this when he has to be up early to make it to the bakery in time to finish prep and open.




The bed dips beside her and hands cradle her head, lifting and placing her head carefully in his lap as she smiles faintly. Peeta’s fingers unwind the tie holding her hair in place and then her braid, which is probably a mess by now. She tugs self-consciously in her shirt, briefly hoping her mommy rolls aren’t on display before his fingers comb through her tresses with almost immediate effect. She hums contentedly, encouraging him to continue.

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Kissing Tybalt - A birthday gift for @xerxia31

Today is the day, the big day of @xerxia31. You know her as an awesome writer, an impeccable beta ( the Queen of Red Pencil), but most importantly, I know her as a friend - and here I lack words and superlatives to describe what her friendship means.

With the help of @burkygirl for the betaing (and there was a lot, thank you so much for helping me) and the amazing art @akai-echo did for this story, here is my humble birthday gift.

Have the bestest of days, my friend !

KISSING TYBALT

“How do you feel about kissing Tybalt?”

How do I feel about kissing my friend on stage ? Last I checked, the script says nothing about exchanging saliva with Tybalt. Well, technically with Peeta. My friend, who’s playing Juliet’s cousin in this musical he dragged me into.

“Uh-” is all I manage to say. I’m so eloquent, right? But what can I say? Maybe something like: Shouldn’t we have discussed it  more than three days before the premiere of the show? But that’s how our director, Effie, is. Crazy. She has two thousand brilliant ideas just like this one on a bad day. Don’t get me started on how many she has on a good day.

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P.R.I.M: Pranks Resulting in Matrimony

Written by: @ghtlovesthg

Title: P.R.I.M: Pranks Resulting in Matrimony

Prompt 28: Noting tension between Katniss and the baker’s youngest son, carefree and mischievous Prim can’t resist pranking her annoyingly uptight and very responsible sister. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Notes: Rated All Ages, Never-reaped!Everlark, Complete. 

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aquarpisc  asked:

Hi, my birthday is February 19th and I'd love something along the lines of enemies to lovers Modern AU (smut) if that's possible. Thank you so much to all the authors who contribute!! <3

Originally posted by butteryplanet

Wishing you a wonderful birthday! To start you days off right, the always delightful @appleblossomgirl0305 has written this perfect bit of Everlark, just for you! Enjoy!


Treed

Rating: M/E

Trigger warnings: Logging operations? Heights? The mating habits of quail?

A/N: Happy birthday! I hope all of your birthday wishes come true! Never-ending gratitude to @xerxia31 for helping in every way possible.


Peeta hunkered down in his chair, swiveling away from the opening of his cubicle. He had two immediate problems; his editor was looking for him and he was hungover. Again. Plutarch Heavensbee was hard to take on a normal day, but with a blazing headache and already sour stomach, Peeta feared the consequences of a run in this morning.

“Damn,” he muttered, sucking a sharp whistling breath as he burned his tongue on his scaldingly hot coffee. Why did the little kiosk in the entryway always insist on making horribly weak, but ridiculously hot coffee? Maybe a better question was why he continued to buy it. But every time he walked into the chrome and marble opulence of the Capital Media Corps foyer, with its twenty stories of frantically busy, hungry machine of information and commerce looming above him, he felt like an imposter. He felt like every silk-shirted woman in her clackity-clacking heels determinedly running to the next important story, each shiny-shoed, cuff-linked man barking into his cell phone that he “needed it yesterday, dammit!” could tell he didn’t really belong there. That he was a small-town boy from District 12 who still dreamt of his parent’s bakery, cinnamon and dill-scented tendrils curling through his dreams.

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Little Tears

“Honey what’s wrong?”

Her daughter simply didn’t reply.  She turned her head toward the wall, stony faced.

Katniss knew that glare; it was the infamous ‘scowl’ she’d inherited from her.  Except that a scowl meant something was wrong and she didn’t want anyone to know what was going on. Katniss waddled inside of the room. “Okay kiddo, I’m not intimidated by that look.”

Her daughters face crumbled, her lip quivered and her large blue eyes watered up. She fought valiantly to keep her emotions bottled up.

Katniss put her arms around her daughter. Her baby girl had recently started school, and it was challenging for the talkative outgoing child.  Her daughter could talk and wore her heart on her sleeves.  Within moments of being in her arms, her daughter began to weep.

“What’s wrong?”

Her daughter’s words came rushing out without stopping, jumbled up between hiccups, groans, and tears. “Why don’t they like me? I’ve tried to be nice, I talk to them, bring them snacks and they’re still mean to me mommy?”  

Katniss panicked for a minute. She didn’t know what to do. The old fears of not being able to protect her child came roaring back. She swallowed thickly, and her blank mind tried to think, she blurted, “Sometimes people don’t like you. There’s nothing you can do but to walk away and find people who do.”

Her daughter frowned.

“It sounds silly, but not everyone is going to think you’re great, and that’s okay.” Katniss thought of Joanna, there was a time Jo despised her.

“But I want people to like me, I’m a nice girl, a good girl…” Her daughter mumbled her blue eyes were impossibly wide on her face.

“You are a nice and good girl and if they can’t see that, then tough on them. I bet you, if look else where you’ll find a friend for life.”

“Like daddy?” Katniss could see her daughter’s agile mind quickly spinning.

“I’ll let you think about that,” Katniss stood from the bed and walked away, she placed her hand on her belly and hoped that raising this one would be easier.

Many Things - Part 1

There’s more to this, but in the name of getting something up in time for Mother’s Day in the USA, here’s part one. May the day treat you well regardless of your status with mother’s or as a mother. This part is Rated K but rating will be at least an M at some point. I’ll be sure to rate each section as I get it posted. This is completely unbeta’d so if it’s crappy or riddled with mistakes, it’s all on me.


With a hefty sigh, Katniss falls back onto the bed and doesn’t move. She lays there with eyes shut, listening to the silence of the house and enjoying the peace for just a moment. There are dishes from dinner still piled in the sink, needing to be washed. A basket full of jumbled up laundry that she would need to fold and sort, unless she could convince Peeta to do that for her. Convincing usually doesn’t take much work since her husband is often eager to help in any way he can. She just feels guilty begging help from him late at night like this when he has to be up early to make it to the bakery in time to finish prep and open.

The bed dips beside her and hands cradle her head, lifting and placing her head carefully in his lap as she smiles faintly. Peeta’s fingers unwind the tie holding her hair in place and then her braid, which is probably a mess by now. She tugs self-consciously in her shirt, briefly hoping her mommy rolls aren’t on display before his fingers comb through her tresses with almost immediate effect. She hums contentedly, encouraging him to continue.

“I could draw you a bath,” he offers and she shakes her head.

“This is nice for now. And I’ve got dishes to wash.”

“I’ll wash the dishes,” he offers automatically.

“Laundry to fold,” she murmurs as she sinks into the warmth of his touch and the tingling in her scalp that his attention to her hair causes. She thinks back to a time when they would sit by the lake for hours, just like this, with Peeta playing with her tresses and Katniss soaking up sunshine and happiness like a pampered cat. Now they’re lucky to find a few minutes like this to themselves.

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The Odds Were in Our Favor

Originally posted by odestaholyship

Originally posted by siiren-e

Originally posted by laragazzachenonami

Summary: You reflect on your time with Finnick while preparing for your wedding. 

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long, I wrote it and then hated it so I rewrote it….


You sat in your room in District 13, looking into the mirror but not seeing your reflection. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the simple, but elegant white dress laying on your bed. Today was the day. You were finally marrying Finnick, the love of your life.

As you pinned up your hair in a loose fashion, you remembered how it all had started.

~

Y/N L/N, the winner if the 70th Hunger Games, a 17 year old girl from District 8. The orphan who managed to win it all. Only a year after your “victory” you were returning to the overwhelming sound and color of the Capitol as the youngest mentor in the history of the games. Your own mentor, James, had died suddenly two months before, leaving you to try and keep the new tributes alive.

Winning the Hunger Games was more of a curse than a blessing. Everyone spoke about be grateful for surviving, for getting to go home. No one ever told the tributes about the nightmares, the loneliness, and the blackmail. It forced you to grow up fast, and alone. If you had let anyone into your heart, they would have been astonished by your strength, by how you managed to get out of your bed each day after reliving your final moments in the arena every night.

But you didn’t let anyone in. Becoming quiet, you did your best to balance being kind to the tributes with not making an attachment. It was too hard. They were your friends, your peers. It just made it all the harder when you had to say goodbye on the morning of the games. All you could do was hug them tight and hope they would listen to your advice.

They did not. The boy died at the cornucopia within ten minutes of the countdown, and the girl just hours later, hunted by a career pack. You didn’t watch the rest of the games. For the first day, you were locked away from the world, crying. When you fell into a restless sleep, you could only dream of the boy from District 2 with his hands around your throat. You tossed and turned, as you remembered grabbing a rock and with the last vestiges of strength, hitting him. Hitting him over and over and over again as you cried.

You woke, breathing heavily with tears streaming down your face. Shaking, you dressed and took a walk through the slightly less crowded streets of the Capitol. The people were so consumed with watching the large public screens that no one took notice of you. Well, almost no one.

A very handsome, but equally broken man had just made a deal with some sponsors when he saw you. 

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Mockingjay Inn

Written by: @burkygirl

Prompt 25: Katniss and Peeta are both frequent pop-in guests at an out-of-the-way B&B. One weekend, it is surprisingly booked up and the manager asks if they can share a suite in an effort to be less of an inconvenience for such loyal customers and since they sort of know each other. (Submitted by @roseymama )

Rated E, Trigger warnings for smut, a few curse words and mentions of a dying family member.

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roseymama  asked:

My birthday was last week (5/21) but if you're in a lull and want to backtrack I love fluff and/or arranged marriage situations.

Originally posted by datemisstravel

How very fitting that our last story at everlarkbirthdaydrabbles is in response to what was, in fact, our very first submission! We’ve held onto this an entire year, gleefully looking forward to the day that we could fulfil this request! So happy birthday to you @roseymama, this incredible piece of Everlark was crafted just for you by the most wonderful @appleblossomgirl0305!


Blessed Accidents

A/N: Happy, happy day, birthday girl! I hope you have an incredible birthday and phenomenal year to come! (I also hope you have nothing else to do today besides eat cake and read this, as it is embarrassingly far too long for a drabble.)

To the @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles angels that have made this birthday gift exchange possible, thank you so, so much. You have done something so beautiful for the entire fandom.

Rated M

Trigger warning: parental abandonment


Katniss couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was wrong. She could feel it, gnawing insistently at the back of her mind like a headache coming on, but couldn’t figure out what had thrown her so off-balance. At nearly eighteen, Katniss had spent the past six years keeping her small family alive, a finely calibrated existence that kept them skimming just above oblivion. She was well aware that any small disaster could be their undoing, so she was vigilant in her watchfulness.

She glanced over at Prim, who was sitting at the kitchen table, schoolwork open in front of her. Katniss followed her sister’s eyes as she cast a worried look at their mother, who was making tea in the small kitchen.

Katniss’ eyes narrowed as she took in her mother, her blond hair brushing against her shoulders as she swayed back and forth, humming quietly to herself. As Katniss scrutinized her, her mother turned dreamily towards the window and closed her eyes, smiling into the soft morning light. This can’t be good, thought Katniss. But if anything, her mother looked perfectly healthy, robust even.

As she and Prim walked to school, Katniss did a quick mental inventory of her mother’s recent behavior and found no warning signs of the crippling depression that had nearly killed them all. If anything, lately her mother had seemed the opposite, too… happy. It had taken years after their father’s death for her mother to crawl out of the chasm of her grief. In the past few years, she had even resumed work as a healer, training Prim to assist her and freeing Katniss up to dedicate more of her time to hunting and their continued survival. But the humming and private smiles were new. Katniss scowled, if her mother was going to fall apart again, she needed to figure out how to protect Prim.

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Happy Birthday page-28!

Happy Birthday @page-28! We hope you had a great day celebrating:) To help make your day is even better, @historywriter2007 has written you a lovely Everlark story :)

Originally posted by spiderinthecupboard

Rating: T

Katniss pulled her car along the curb in front of the newly renovated building and huffed as she put it in park. She was still fuming over the fact she had to come out here and review a coffee shop. A real coffee shop, not some place that sold coffee along with exquisite food, no a coffee shop.  Katniss was a food critic, a damn good one, not a coffee critic; but her editor told her she owed one of the owners a favor so now Katniss was the one spending her afternoon at The Cornucopia Coffee Shop instead of trying to work on her pitch to Travel Panem.

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