You ever think about how Coriolanus never left the arena either?
"Because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think myself out. "
-The Hunger Games.
I wish I could put this together better, or have a poetic zinger to get to the heart of this matter, But I really think that when you think about it, you'll also realize that Coriolanus never left the arena, and this lead to him realizing that he was really good at playing the Hunger Games, and thus made the entire world of Panem an arena. Because if you can control the one and only game, than of course you will always land on top.
I don't think I could go so far as to say that it was his coping mechanism, but since he clearly was a touch traumatized from the up close death of Arachne, the death of his fellow students and the bombing itself, including the fact that over the course of weeks Coriolanus was literally an eighteen year old that was put into the position of plotting other teens deaths in order to come out on top, as well as being ordered to go into the arena itself and had to kill another person in self defense, all leads to how he ended up viewing the world as an entire arena even after the games were over.
He literally betrays his two "allies" in Sejanus and Lucy Grey because he never stopped being inside the arena.*
I do however think that the biggest factor that leads into this is that in Mockingjay, its revealed that he used Game techniques as defenses against the city. With Mutts and pods that killed anyone who triggered them, not just rebels.
that's not really a sign of someone who is viewing the world with even a semi normal brain. Granted, it was an effective defense, but only for very short periods of time, and not very effective against literal armies, or even just several legions. Seriously, If Snow had thought just once outside his arena worldview, he would probably had thought of better strategies against the rebels, or even had seen that he was truly on a losing game and had surrendered far earlier. relying entirely on gamemaker logic was what lead him to such a defeat.
Because maybe we could talk about how Coriolanus never left the arena, while Katniss and every other tribute tried to leave.
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new wip wednesday
i wanted to get the first chapter of this done as an early bday present to me because ive been talking about this fic for foreverrrrr but its not gonna happen because im bad at measuring time and effort 😮💨 but look! hunger games au fic!
Anakin pushes his face into his neck, letting his lips press against his pulse for a moment.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, recognition and warning rolled into one tone.
But Anakin wouldn’t be who he is if he allowed the man in his arms to so easily twist away. He wouldn’t even be here now, pressed up against him with the scent of saltwater and lilacs and leather filling his nose, if he let one warning word distract him from his goal.
So instead he pushes further, wraps his hands around Obi-Wan’s hips and takes the skin beneath his lips between his teeth. The soft fabric of their pants brush together, so loud in the stillness of the kitchen that it’s deafening—that it’s almost loud enough to drown out the catch in Obi-Wan’s breathing.
But Anakin has trained himself over the past five years to listen for all the small ways that Obi-Wan Kenobi capitulates, so he hears his sigh, feels the slump of his shoulders against his own as his head sways forward and then back.
Anakin takes his time worrying a bitemark into his neck, just at the edge of his beard. On the holos that will film Obi-Wan’s face today, it’ll look like a shadow.
But Anakin will know. Obi-Wan will know.
“Anakin,” his lover murmurs, and Anakin’s hand moves from his waist up to stroke down his arm, corded with tense muscle. Fisherman’s muscle. Victor’s muscle too.
Not today, he means. It’s obvious in every line of his body. It’s obvious in the fact that he left the bed so early in the morning when neither of them must work. It’s obvious in the distance in his eyes, the frown across his lips.
Today is not a day where Obi-Wan will accept pleasure from anyone’s lips or hands, undeserving as he feels to be on the receiving end of such a kindness.
Anakin’s left hand falls to cover Obi-Wan’s, tangling their fingers together. His are rougher than Obi-Wan’s, working man’s hands now that he is twenty-one and a man of the sea like most are on Stewjon. The rough drag of his calluses over the hairy knuckles of Obi-Wan’s hand makes Anakin swallow a smile. Victors of the Hunger Games are forbidden from working laborious jobs. They’re meant to languish away in their Coruscanti-funded manors, with idle minds and idle hands, picking at paints or design stencils or any number of different government approved hobbies
Obi-Wan Kenobi is not made to be idle. He has no patience for painting or sewing, for cooking or jewelry design. Luckily for him, Stewjon is the fourth planet from Coruscant, on the edge of the inner rim, and it’s rather small, rather ordinary. In the colder months, during the few months of the star year where the galaxy is not forced to care about the Hunger Games and its Victors, he can slip away to the ocean. Fish and sail like he was born to do, Stewjoni through and through.
But Anakin is out on those choppy seas year-round now that he’s four years finished with his compulsory education. His hands are rougher than Obi-Wan’s and they always will be.
Anakin likes it. Likes the way Obi-Wan’s softness contrasts against his own rougher places. Likes that he can sneak away from Obi-Wan’s manor in the blue of the pre-dawn light, first to the sea and then to the market, and Obi-Wan will be there when he gets back. Likes that when he leaves, his lover is curled up asleep in their bed. And when he returns with the fattest fish from his haul, Anakin can cook it for him too.
He likes that he is the only thing Obi-Wan needs. He provides. He cooks for him. He feeds him. He touches him with his rough hands, to dirty him and then to clean him up. Everything that Obi-Wan needs, Anakin is the person to give it to him.
He supposes he has Coruscant to thank for that.
He’s not stupid enough to say that—ever, but especially today. Especially on the day of the Reaping.
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ASFHLHDGH GUYS IT WORKED!
I made an alliance with Gortash, agreed to meet with him near the Morphic pool, THEN went to Iron Throne and saved prisoners, then destroyed the Steel Watch Foundry.
And Gortash was waiting for me near the Morphic Pool like nothing happened.
He probably doesn't even KNOW I went and broke two of his playgrounds the moment he looked away. Banites had no way to communicate with him when he left, I'm-
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The sheer number of spider man game fans who are whining over Neil Newbon winning best performance is so funny. My partner is an avid Final Fantasy and Legend of Zelda enjoyer, and they were rooting for Clive’s VA and Tears of the Kingdom to win more awards than they did. But you know what happened when Baldur’s Gate 3 won? My partner grumbled but accepted the loss with grace and acknowledged that BG3 was a good game.
Meanwhile I have never seen such sore losers as the Spider Man 2 fans. They are in videos of people celebrating Neil Newbon’s performance, congratulating him on his win, and sharing their favorite parts of his performance leaving comments like “rigged af”, “Yuri lost to this?”, and “😭 we know these girl voted cause they were creaming for him” (that last one is a direct quote). As if that isn’t a phrase I’ve never heard before. Accept the L! You were outvoted! This is how the awards work, people vote for what they like! Cry about it, and go touch some grass!
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