De.Nill

I always wondered about you. The teenagers sitting at campsite desks, spinning in rickety chairs while a fan strained itself just to blow your sweaty hair around. The girls in lifeguard chairs at green-tinted lakes, watching kids in t.v show bathing suits swallow far more fish-flavored water than any one person probably should. The boys in supply shops, peddling colored fire rocks and s’more ingredients, barely looking me in the eyes while my dad dug in his wallet for cash. I wondered about you the most. Not a crush, not always; something deeper than that. I envied your flat shirts and cool hair and the casual way your voice rasped when you laughed. I watched how you moved not because of some childish flutter in my stomach, but because I was so sorely curious. You felt so foreign to me, the budding little girl still too awkward to know what having a body really meant.

Now I am older and grown and sticks crunch under my boots as I traverse the familiar path between park and campsite. My voice rasps when I raise it in greeting, the forest green of my uniform loose and unrestrained by my bound chest. Now I am the one hauling wagons of equipment past docked RVs, the breeze fighting the brim of my hat to cool my sweaty, sunscreen-slick forehead. I get to be the one catching the eyes of awkward children while their parents ponder the trail map, smiling and waving and growing nostalgic over the familiar sight of a sunhat against the back of a head, only the string around a soft throat to keep it in place.

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One of my many favorite things about The Hunger Games is that it doesn’t romanticize revolution — it humanizes it. It shows, again and again, how much work, coordination, sacrifice, and unbearable loss it takes to build something strong enough to challenge an empire. Change doesn’t happen because one brave person volunteers. It happens because countless people — many of whom never see the victory — choose, over and over, to resist.

Katniss Everdeen often believes she is alone, but she never truly stands by herself. Before Katniss ever raised her bow, others were planting the seeds of resistance in quieter, more fragile ways.

Lucy Gray Baird challenged the Capitol not with weapons, but with performance, defiance, and survival on her own terms. She exposed cracks in the system during its formative years, proving even in its infancy, the Games could not fully control the human spirit. Her story lingers despite Snow’s attempt to silence her song. She was never erased.

That legacy echoes generations later in Lenore Dove Baird, whose unwavering bravery and hope for a better world inspired Haymitch and drove him to be brave even after risking it all to no avail. Lenore Dove’s spirit carried forward Lucy Gray’s same refusal to be owned.

Through music, memory, and quiet rebellion, the Covey girls remind us that revolution doesn’t begin with armies — it begins with identity, culture, and the stubborn insistence on remaining human.

So many people, in this world or the next, were behind her in every step Katniss took. She carried the flame, yes — but thousands of others kept it alive, even the family she never knew about. Together, the Covey girls changed their world.

if you report fanfiction to police and tell them they should “investigate this because fictional children are being harmed in these fanfiction and I don’t like it!!!!!”, you will get either of these outcomes:

the police will laugh at your face

they will investigate fanfiction, and while they waste their time investigating fanfiction and victimless “crimes”, real children are being hurt elsewhere, and you are taking the police’s time and resources away from these real children. so instead of doing something to actually help save real children, police are too busy trying to protect fictional ones that exist only in fantasies

also ao3 abides by american laws, so actually everything that is posted on the site is legal in america. and no, it’s not “child abuse” or “rape” or “csem” if the “victims” are fictional characters who were harmed in a fictional world (I believe that’s why it’s legal and allowed).

you don’t have to like it. you can find it extremely disgusting. but whether or not you like it, your personal discomfort is not law. for the record, anything that involves (fictional) children in sexual situations makes me super uncomfortable. so I just… don’t seek out fics that I know will make me uncomfortable. it is in fact that easy.

if you are allergic to peanut butter and you swallow a spoonful of peanut butter, knowing damn well that you are allergic, then the one who’s to blame is you. peanut butter alone will not and cannot hurt you unless you shove it in your mouth.

Coexisting With The Fair Folk Who Have Taken Up Residence In/Around/Beneath Your University: A How-To Guide

See more of my comics here, and my art here!

Whole bunch of lore/things I couldn’t fit/everything I love about the overlap in superstition and General College Weirdness below the cut-