I was just reading about the “necessity”/of Finnick dying, and I have a few bones to pick with that. First off, it is a FICTIONAL novel. No one HAS to die.
So the argument was basically that Finnick had to die because it showed the tragedy of war…Because nearly all of D12, Boggs, Mitchell, Lyme, etc doesn’t show that. It had to be someone the other characters loved, someone readers loved…
Wait a second. Didn’t I just describe Prim? You know, Katniss’s sister? The one who inadvertantly caused this entire rebellion? Her. Does Prim’s death not sufficiently demonstrate the tragedies of war?
So no, don’t you dare tell me Finnick HAD to die. Out of all the character, Annie and Finnick are two that NEEDED to have a happy ending.
Katniss volunteered for the Games to save Prim? Finnick put himself through 8-10 years of forced prostitution to keep the people he loved safe. He went through God knows what to protect Mags, Annie, and whatever other family he had.
I don’t mean to take away from Katniss’s bravery and strength. At all. She is an amazing heroine and we certainly need more of them.
But Finnick and Annie have THE MOST beautiful love story of any YA book and they deserved better than they got.
Mockingjay, pg. 191. “Did you see? How weird he acted? What are they—doing to him?” I’m gasping for air between sobs, but I manage one last phrase. “It’s my fault!” I cross some line into hysteria and there’s a needle in my arm and the world slips away.”
But it doesn’t slip away for as long as Thirteen expects.
A/N: Thanks to @chele20035 for the quick read through! All mistakes are mine.
“Here it is baby girl, just the dress I was looking for,” Mother says as she climbs out of the back of her closet. It’s way back there, in the part of her closet no one ever seems to go. Where “those” dresses are hanging, the ones that are special. The ones that Cinna made. She unzips the bag, and I see it hanging there. A beautiful orange dress with a print of autumn leaves.
“You haven’t called me ‘baby girl’ in years!” I laugh at her.
“Oh, humor me, would you!” She smiles back, stroking my braid that has fallen over my shoulder.
I remember, when I was little, mother showed me all of those dresses. When I was five they were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. Now that I’m about to graduate from high school, they are still the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Mother used to tell me I could look but not touch. Today though, today is different. Today, I get to wear one of these dresses, and I think my mother has one picked out for me.