How Did Suzanne Collins Go From Writing For This

how did suzanne collins go from writing for this

to writing this

tropes i will never get tired of

fake dating

omniscient narrator who immediately contradicts the characters (“This is fine,” she said. It was, in no way, shape, or form, fine.)

deadpan jokes while swordfighting

the “I FUCKING LOVE MY WIFE” guy

oblivious pining that slowly escalates until A is going on page rants about how pretty B’s eyes are but still doesn’t seem to recognize they’re in love

Strong Leader Type having to physically fall down in order for the other characters to see how exhausted they are

funny villains who talk and make jokes with their heroes while they’re fighting them

the villains presented as the protagonists

*increasingly pulls out bigger and bigger weapons from more unlikely places*

“I said all of your weapons” *pulls out more*

“ALL OF THEM” *pulls out one last tiny dagger*

traumatized character using humor to cover up ptsd

characters going out for a break at a restaurant/movie/whatever and something bad happening

using the “*gasp* what’s that over there???” trick to avert the enemy’s attention and it working

a villain’s weakness being something totally random and nonsensical

a hero duo arguing over who’s the sidekick while fighting a villain

“don’t be silly, we don’t need [important thing]” “you lost it, didn’t you?” “yeah”

“what’s the one thing I told you not to do tonight?” “raise the dead” “and what did you do?” “raised the dead”

“I think that went pretty well” *explosion in the distance*

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kaanha-ki-barkat

5 years ago

Prompt: Sita & Rambha (victim of Ravana who cursed him, thereby protecting Sita)

A woman remains behind when the gods descend upon Lanka to bless the captive Sita with security and sustenance, and Sita need only look once at the stranger’s eyes, bright as the dance of sunlight against water, and her hair, shining like the waves of the river to know: an apsara.

“Their Queen, in fact,” says the woman–Rambha herself–confirming Sita’s guess, and inclines her head in response to Sita’s folded hands.

All the world has heard of what she suffered at the hands of the demon king, but Sita must know for sure. “Did he–Did Ravana try–” She breaks off, unsure of how to phrase her question delicately, but it is unnecessary. The apsaras are hardly undiscerning, and Rambha no exception.

“He did more than try,” she says bluntly, and Sita, now knowing all too well what it is to know such powerlessness, shudders with sympathy.

“I am sorry,” she says awkwardly, words insufficient to express what she feels, but Rambha shakes the words away.

“Perhaps, it was for the best. At least it is now such that he can never do so again, not on pain of instant death. If my suffering was necessary to bring that to be, then as Queen I would have accepted the cost regardless.”

Sita marvels with this, enough to dare ask the question that has haunted her. “And your husband–he forgave you?”

Rambha shakes her head. “No,” she says, “for he said there was nothing for which he needed to forgive me. His punishment fell solely on Ravana’s head, to ensure it should be split into pieces should he attempt such atrocity again. Ah yes,” she confirms, smiling at Sita’s clear relief, “such is the nature of my gift to you; to us all, I suppose. And even were it not so—allow me to reassure you again, dear one: you are blameless and innocent, come what may. Whatever sin has been committed is on Ravana’s hands; you need carry none of it.”

“As are you,” Sita dares reply, and Rambha’s smile in return—the smile any number of gods, sages, and demons would have died to earn—remains with her, even into the flames.