the hunger games has been my roman empire since i read when it when i was 10 and here are all of my smaller empires bc this has always been my favourite series ever:
the tributes being treated to a life of luxury both as a “last meal” sort of thing and as a way to make them more vulnerable for the games. keeping them well fed before the games so the starvation hits harder
peeta repeatedly calling himself a mutt after katniss does :(
katniss’ ptsd
katniss being such an unreliable narrator
when cato realised he’s just as much of a toy as the rest of the kids
when gale says he should’ve volunteered in peeta’s place. NOT for peeta, not to save him the trauma, the injuries or his torture, and not to save katniss and to be there for her, PURELY bc he knew that getting hurt would get her attention.
GALE GETTING MAD AT KATNISS FOR KISSING SOMEONE TO STAY ALIVE. EVEN 10 YEAR OLD ME WAS LIKE ??
peeta’s “real or not real” and how easily katniss accepts it as his way of recovery
how perfect katniss’ character was. i was a little girl and i wanted to be exactly like her when i grew up. she wasn’t the cliche “doesn’t need anyone accepts this specific guy that will always save her” she saved peeta, and some times peeta saves her
probably the overdramatic english lit nerd in me but katniss’ hair going from intricate braids to messy ponytails
(tw sex assault) in the books katniss was terrified that peeta was going to be r&ped, for some reason that’s always stuck with me
what happened to finnick
how well written and realistic the books were. peeta loses his leg to the infection, katniss loses her hearing in one ear, finnick suffers from extreme ptsd and it shows in district 13, peeta not being an easy fix. he still suffers years later, but he slowly pieces himself back together. Johanna’s anger, people often don’t like the fact that ptsd DOES make you angry, haymitch’s backstory and effie’s growth.
the mutt’s have the dead kids eyes in the first games
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What Do You Have There?
A knife!
Danny plunked the butter knife in its pedestal of importance. The nice thing about having a billionaire vigilante for a... foster is the amount of money Danny was allowed to drop on his hobbies. For example, his extensive collection of souvenirs.
They're not just any old regular souvenirs. No, no, no. That would be so boring! No, these souvenirs, he obtained from the various muggings, knife fights, and various other situations he's been in ever since he was dropped ungraciously into Gotham.
The butter knife? Damian. Precocious, stabby Damian who he had startled into the stab instinct. A point of pride, really. Danny knew Damian was good at fighting! It was practically, in ghost terms, a super enthusiastic hello! Yes, the butter knife would be kept in the well lit part of the wall. Alfred had told him to stay home today to recuperate. He didn't need it, since the wound would heal in an hour or two, but he'd take staying at home any day.
A couple of hours later, well into the afternoon and right before what Danny knew to be their patrol hours, Danny had a visitor.
"Danny."
"Oh, hey, Damian! What's up?" Danny turned around to see Damian hovering awkwardly near the door.
"I am here to... check upon your wound. It is imperative that it gets proper treatment."
Ancients, Damian was exactly like those alley kids. He just ate a thesaurus instead of the drawling accent the alley kids picked up. Which meant Damian endeared himself to Danny pretty quickly. Like a little ghostling.
"Oh, I'm good. See? No blood is leaking out of the wound." Danny held up spotless bandages.
Danny watched Damian step into his haunt- his room- with a pleased hum. Damian inspected the bandages and stepped back with a sharp nod of approval. His eyes flicked to the wall that Danny was rearranging (again) and did a double take at the butter knife in the middle.
"Is that the butter knife I stabbed you with?"
"Why, yes, it is!" Danny beamed.
"Why on earth would you display that?"
"Because you stabbed me with it?"
"That makes absolutely no sense, you simpleton! When someone stabs you, stab them back!"
"That would be mean!"
Damian spluttered. Danny tugged the kid closer to the wall, cheering inwardly as Damian didn't shove him away. It might be because he was exaggeratedly wincing as he moved his "injured arm" but Danny has learned to take a win where he could find them, especially with ghosts. Not that Damian was a ghost, but he sure acted like one.
"Do you want to see my collection?"
"Your collection?"
"Yeah!" Without giving him time to answer, Danny barreled ahead. "So this is the knife you stabbed me with. Which, by the way, was an awesome show of strength and accuracy."
Damian grimaced. Danny continued blithely, secretly memorizing Damian's reactions to laugh at later.
"And this is the knife those guys stabbed me with that one time Cass found me. And this one is a bullet someone shot at me down by the docks. I think I interrupted some kind of meeting?"
Damian's jaw had a slight tick to it that would have been a baffled frown on anyone else.
"And when was this?"
"Oh, like a week ago."
"What? When did you go to the docks?!"
"At night. I couldn't sleep."
"And you went to the docks?! How did you even get there?!"
"Walked," Danny lied, like a lying liar. He floated, obviously, but none of them knew that. "Anyways, this is a law book! Someone threw it at my head!"
"Hey, guys! What're you doing?"
Danny and Damian turned around.
"Richard? Brown? What are you doing here?"
"Oh, Bruce wanted me to come back for the weekend," Dick said. Danny knew it was code for "something's going down and we need back up." Man, he still couldn't believe they didn't know he knew they were crime fighting vigilantes.
"Same!" Stephanie said. Danny was glad to see that her wounds from "cartwheeling in the manor" were healed.
"I see. Danny was showing me his collection of... objects people have used as weapons against him."
"What?!"
"Yeah!" Danny beamed, completely innocent. "Come on! I'll show you!"
With that, Danny continued to ramble. He just knew that the way Dick's and Stephanie's smiles strained would give him a good laugh for weeks to come. "And this is the glass bottle a drunk tried to shank me with in Crime Alley, and this is a knife the Red Hood himself threw at me."
Dick interrupted, face stiff. "Hood threw a knife at you?!"
"Yeah, but that was because my kids broke into his safe house and I was trying to get them to stop looting the place. And he didn't know I was a kid too, so he aimed a gun at my head. He shot at me too, but I couldn't go back to get the bullet, or else it would have joined my collection." Danny grabbed a box and shook it, metal rattling inside.
Dick smiled sweetly, Stephanie and Damian inching away from it.
"Oh, wow, I see!"
----
In his apartment, Jason shuddered. He grabbed his guns.
"Something's wrong. I just know it," he muttered to himself.
----
Danny smiled innocently as he described the horrific, near death events he got his souvenirs from.
"This is my bullet box! Man, Gotham has a lot of gun fights. I got shot so many times!" Danny complained, shaking the box like a rattling toy.
"Did you know Danny snuck out to go to the bay?" Damian snitched immediately, like a snitch.
"The Bay?! Danny! You know that's where people dump bodies, right?!" Stephanie poked him in the arm.
"Yeah, but like... I wouldn't die. And besides! I missed my friends!"
"You mean the minions you made in Crime Alley?" Steph asked. Danny pouted, eyeing the way Dick's gaze roved over his souvenirs and paling the more he realized how often Danny "got hurt."
Damian bumped a shoulder against Dick's arm. Danny returned to the conversation.
"If anything, I'm their minion." He said, remembering the times the Alley kids sent him on food runs.
"Fear Danny, the overlord of street rats."
Danny snorted. And- "Oh! Yeah, there was like a weird owl looking guy? And then they stabbed me with a finger and I kept it because woah, cool talon looking thing, right? And then they threw a bunch of those tiny knives at me? And then they just kind of vanished? Gotham is so weird."
And now, with all of them pale and stressed out of their minds, Danny swung a devastating blow called guilt trip.
"And that's the batarangs!" Three heads swung over to the line of batarangs. "Those vigilantes kept throwing them at me! One of them even hit me in the arm. Those things are sharp, man."
"Uh. Which ones?" Stephanie asked.
"Hm?" Danny hummed obliviously.
"Do you know which vigilantes?"
"Oh, it was like... the purple one. And the sword one? And like the one with the yellow insignia in the middle. And... all of them, I think? Except for signal. That guy's cool."
Stephanie and Damian had matching veiled looks of guilt. Dick shot them a sharp look. Danny decided to deal the last bit of damage to Dick.
"I'm glad you guys are way less stabby than the general Gotham public though, butter knife incident aside. At least I don't have to worry about you guys getting into danger, right? If you guys got hurt like my family did... I don't know..."
Danny smiled-squinted at them, channeling Cujo at his cutest and saddest: when he doesn't get to eat off of Danny's plate. So, pretty sad and pathetic.
"Uh, yeah." Dick said, guilt splayed all over his face. "Alfred said dinner was almost ready."
"Yes," Damian cleared his throat, looking away. "We shall partake in Pennyworth's hard work."
"Ahaha!" Stephanie laughed, nervously. "Welp, let's go bother Tim!"
Falling into step behind them, Danny grinned.
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