#Lucy grey baird

[saffron-stars]

If you think about how Coriolanus always hated mockingjays for being “unnatural” and appreciated jabberjays for their efficiency (and borderline purity) the catching fire scene where katniss (THE mockingjay) is attacked by jabberjays….. has a whole new meaning.

[bookishcarmela]

Shadows of Affection

warnings: none

Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 1: Reaping Day

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow across your room. you blinked away the remnants of sleep, your body heavy with the weight of impending dread. Reaping day an obligation cloaked in Capitol extravagance loomed ahead, a day that irked you more than any other.

You pushed back the white duvet, its warmth a fleeting comfort, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The marble floor felt cool against your bare feet, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room. With a deep breath, you stood and headed to your restroom, the whispers of yesterday's bruises still haunting your skin.

The mirror reflected a girl you hardly recognized. Dark circles beneath your eyes told stories of sleepless nights, while a careful hand traced over your face, applying makeup as a shield. Concealer masked the fading marks, a desperate attempt to hide the evidence of your stepfather's wrath.

Each dab of foundation, each sweep of powder, was a ritual, a facade of perfection in a world tainted by secrets. you forced a smile onto your lips, a practiced gesture to cloak the turmoil within.

The black dress with a white trim, chosen for its delicate elegance, hung by the wardrobe. A symbol of Capitol fashion, yet its weight felt heavier than lead. Slipping into it, you adjusted the fabric. A glance in the mirror revealed a girl adorned in pretense, a mask to appease the Capitol's gaze.

Reaping day a day meant for celebration, but loomed over you like a tiresome chore. Your stomach churned with unease, and you clasped your hands, bracing for the inevitable.

With a final glance in the mirror, you steeled yourself, summoning all the composure left in you. you straightened your posture, swallowing the bitterness that threatened to consume you. an unwilling participant in the Capitol's elaborate theatrics.

The morning air held a crispness that matched your apprehension as you made your way to the Academy. You navigated through the entrance adorned with somber black drapes, your steps echoing down the arched corridor. The pathway led you to the grand Heavensbee Hall, where the reaping ceremony's broadcast awaited. Despite your punctuality, the hall buzzed with activity—faculty, students, and a handful of Games officials.

you maneuvered through the throng of students flooding Heavensbee Hall, the anticipation of the day's events adding a frantic energy to the air. Amidst the sea of faces, you searched for Coriolanus. Spotting him across the crowded hall, you made your way toward the familiar silhouette. He stood amidst a small group, his presence commanding attention even amidst the bustling crowd. Satyria, her vibrant presence lighting up the group, stood beside him.

Coriolanus Snow, a steadfast presence in this sea of luxury and opulence. As you approached Satyria was the first to notice you, her drawl echoed across the bustling hall, A smile curved on your lips as you approached, reciprocating her kiss on the cheek, the faint scent of posca lingering in the air. "Ah, my dear y/n," she remarked, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders, her gaze sweeping over me. "Always a vision." Satyria's compliment, though a bit much, felt genuine amid the day's facade. you nodded in thanks, catching the mix of playful banter and the way she slurred her speech. Turning your attention to Coriolanus, his knowing look greeted you. His whispered acknowledgment brought a smirk to your lips, a silent understanding shared between the two of you. "Coryo," you greeted in a hushed tone, a playful twinkle in your eyes. He leaned in slightly, his voice a discreet murmur. "Right on time as always, y/n," a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

your exchange was brief before we were approached by Arachne Crane, Festus Creed, and Felix Ravinstill. Arachne, with her piercing gaze, greeted you with a curt nod. Festus offered a small smile. Felix, however, sauntered over with a confident grin, his eyes locking onto yours."y/n," he greeted, his eyes alight with mischief. "You're as captivating as ever." you chuckled, charmed by his words. "You never run out of compliments, do you, Felix?" Coriolanus observed your banter with a raised eyebrow, while Festus chuckled and chimed in, diverting the conversation toward today's events, for the first time the tributes were to be assigned mentors. Twenty-four of the Academy’s best and brightest seniors had been tapped for the job. Sadly for you, your only a junior and can't participate in this year's “festivities” 

Lost in your thoughts, you snapped back to reality at the sound of a ringing bell, signaling the assembly of your fellow students at the front of the dais. "I guess it’s time to assign us tributes," Arachne muttered, her voice tinged with boredom. In the midst of the commotion, you reached out and grabbed Coriolanus's hand. "Good luck, Corio," you said, a note of hope in your tone. He offered a small, appreciative smile in return before making his way to take his seat. You hurried to the sidelines, joining Dr. Gual who shot you a pointed look, and with a raised eyebrow, she asked, "Feeling a tad late, but fate won't?" you blinked for a moment, then hastily added, "Wait" She couldn't contain her giggle “smart girl” she added before, Dean Highbottom began the roster: Senjanus secured the boy from District Two, an unsurprising match given his background. Felix landed a sick girl from District 11. But the real blow landed when Coriolanus got matched with the girl from District 12. It was a tough draw, arguably the worst pick of them all.

you made a move toward Coriolanus and Senjanus, their somber expressions mirroring the weight of their assigned roles, but Dr. Gual intercepted, seizing your hand with a firm grip. "Piles to tackle, can't delay,Busy hands can't go astray," she quipped, tugging you away. you released a defeated sigh, reluctantly following her back to her lab. Dr. Gual had taken an interest in you since you arrived at the Academy, recognizing you as Alistair Royce's daughter, left fatherless after the war. She'd been your guiding force, pushing you to excel academically. Her quirks if you can even call them that made her company oddly comforting to you. She became the caretaker you sorely needed, shaping you into the person you are today. 

Even though you couldn't mentor a tribute this year, Dr. Gual had a different plan for you. She granted you the opportunity to assist in the game-making process, a deviation from the usual mentorship. It was a chance to be involved, to contribute in a different way to the upcoming Hunger Games.

[geist-polter]

Rowan’s true form!!

[k-chips]

I firmly think The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes is a story that needs to be read. Like, it works better as a book than as a movie, I'm 100% sure.

(little spoilers for the book but not too much and it's mostly without context anyway)

And it's not because "books are better" or something, because the Hunger Games movies are all great adaptations and they never missed.

I think that for 2 main reasons:

The first is that people watching the movie will miss a very cool, deep and important detail that only the book can provide, which is the switch between "Coriolanus" and "Snow" at the end of the book.

The narrator stops calling him "Coriolanus" and starts to only use "Snow" to refer to him. Because now he actually is the "young version" of the bastard we know in the trilogy.

Before that he's a "working in progress".

-

The second reason is that the main character can't lie to the readers.

While reading the book we always know when Coryo is lying and when he's being honest because, even if it's in third person, it's still from his point of view. We know what he really thinks and we know when he's actually sincere or not.

And for a story about a manipulative character, this is important.

People who will only watch the movie will always think he's lying because they know "President Snow" and they know he's a manipulative bastard but Coriolanus is actually very honest for the majority of the book:

He honestly cared about his friends, he was honestly worried for Clementia and, at the end, for Sejanus, he very much loves his family, he REALLY loved Lucy Grey and he was really fucking scared of Dr. Gaul, the games and the war.

(And I know there are people who read the book and STILL though he was lying and a bitch for the whole thing but, please, understand the complexity of a character. In Hunger Games no one is black or white)

[taytrashmouth]

A ballad of songbirds and snakes had single-handedly brought back my hunger games obsession. And my obsession for Peeta mellark

I am now writing for the hunger games! Send in requests !!!!!!!!! Especially for peeta!!!

(I’ll write for anyone in the movies)

[thebisexualwreckoning]

i love how the moment they make president snow a young hot guy they forget the literal war crimes he's committed and how many people died due to him? like he's not even morally grey like the bookstagram girlies claim? he's literally straight up evil and killing children just to maintain his own power. GIving victors and the rest of the people of panem an illusion of glory and fame while secretly using them as pawns on his personal chessboard. Like I love myself a character with skewed morals but this *gestures around myself vaguely* is not it

[logicallyblind]

someone has definitely already said this but the fact that when snow bombed district 12, he thought he finally did it. he finally got rid of every last trace of lucy grey.

there would be no more trees she sat beneath in summer afternoons, no more Hob or whatever shell was left of it, no more songs passed from lips to ears generation by generation haunting him-

no more lucy grey left, he was finally free of her ghost gripping tightly to his throat and arms.

-

and then katniss appears on screen singing a song about a certain tree that sounds eerily familiar.

[corinthiansenamel]

Coryo : *introducing lucy grey as his lover*

Tigris : oh my god, you deserve so much better

Coryo : how dare you! Just because she's district -

Tigris : I'm talking to her, you shitwit

[zoloftsexdeath]

Thinking about the origin songs of all the surviving covey members. I can’t speak to color theory, and I haven’t read the books, but I do know some folk songs and recognized some names. Now I don’t stick to Childes ballads strictly when listening to these songs, but I will be listing the number for reference on all the names that have a childe’s ballad corresponding, just for ease of research.

Lucy Grey Baird

Lucy Grey is her own creature and her song is plain in the books. I think the difference between the book ballad of Lucy Gray and the one in the movie (the song she herself wrote about Billy Taupe) is fascinating, as the first one is more of a story-song traditional like, and the Ballad per the movie is so. Im shoving it in my mouth and eating it. Smarter people with more context than me can write better about it though so I’ll leave it at this. I personally think Rachael Ziegler killed it though, and her voice is high and clear, would love to hear her live so I could lay in the grass and kick my feet as I listen.

Barbara Azure Baird

Barb Azure canonically came from Barbara Allen/Barb’ry Allen [CB # ]traditionally a round sung about a woman whose lover dies of wanting her, and she dies of sorrow, and their graves lie entertwined with plants of rose and briar on each respective grave to form a true lover’s knot. My favorite version comes from Joan Baez. This is the only of the covey songs I’ve ever heard before doing this research, and I love it dearly.

Tam Amber [last name unknown]

Tam Amber from Tam Lin! Also known as Tamlaine, Tamlin, or Tam Lyne [Child Ballad #39]. An epic Scottish ballad, and a lovely round. As the story went he was a mortal kidnapped by faeries and has become their unwilling servant, protecting a forest in which he finds a beautiful young woman (usually named Janet or Margaret) whom he confronts for plucking roses. They doink about it, she gets pregnant, her father asks who got her with child, and she rushes back to Tam Lin and begs him to either get rid of the child he begot or marry hee, which in his current state he cannot do. He then devises a plan for Janet/Margaret to performs several tasks that will allow him to return to the land of the mortals, angering the faery queen but assuaging her enough that she makes good on her promise and reluctantly frees Tam Lin to marry his now beloved Janet and legitimize their child. Perhaps not the most traditional version, the one by Anaïs Mitchell and Jefferson Hamer makes me think yes, I can see Tam Amber’s parents falling in love to this song, singing it to him and the other covey children to put them to sleep.

Clerk Carmine Clade

From the ballad Clerk Colven [Child Ballad #42] about a real piece of work who tries to run off on his wife and sleep with a mermaid. The mermaid knows this though, and curses him to suffer a horrific headache until I think his head actually explodes. I don’t think it necessarily has any bearing on Clerk Carmine’s actual personality, but the combination of this song with the color carmine (a brilliant red extracted from the cochinil bug) leads me to believe he was either conceived, born, or his parents married while traveling in district 5. I can see this one being a favorite in district, where they know the danger of baiting the sea and possibly the danger of being a jackass to your wife as well. The location of D5 down in the southwest also leads me to believe it was one of the few places the Covey could have encountered the color as well, as often red 40 or other synthetics are used in mass production of vibrant reds and the use of cochinil based carmine would likely be a very “district” thing, used by native residents for painting or decoration of small items. It’s a strong name, and dangerous when it comes to taking a stand against what the capital represents. I’m surprised he was able to keep it. I reccomend this cover, dunno the singer really but the accent is heavy and his voice is true. I would listen with lyrics alongside though.

Maude Ivory Baird

The book tells us that Maude comes from the poem “Maude Clare” by Christina Rosetti, and Ivory from piano keys. I also like to think that she was partially named after Maud Karpeles, a British folk song collector who helped write down a lot of folk music.

Billy Taupe Clade

Likely from Billy Boy, ironic and fitting for its being about a man after a wife who can feed and care for him despite her being “too young to leave her mother” something Lucy Gray says about him wanting in the books (and seemingly not wanting much more). I don’t care much for this song (sorry), but this is an alright cover.

[weirdero]

[fandomshatepeopleofcolor]

Coriolanus Snow is portrayed by a white man and Lucy Gray is played by a woman of colour and Romani coded, so guess what the hot takes are:

Lucy is an evil seductress who manipulated Snow.

It’s Lucy’s fault Snow turned evil, she abandoned him.

Snow was the real victim because he felt bad sometimes, Lucy never did.

Lucy deserves to die for hurting Snow’s feelings.

It actually makes me grateful Katniss was played by a white woman, Lord only knows what awful takes we’d be getting if Shay Mitchell had been cast instead.

ugh I was hoping to avoid the tags (I wasn't going to see the movie in theaters but my family does but I don't think we'll see it until xmas eve) but I guess since Rachel is getting racist hate I should start calling this out.

but just a few things

I knew this was going to be a shitshow based on reading the book alone.

I'm not sure where you're getting that Lucy is Romani coded? Is that coming from Collins?

Coriolanus snow was literally a conniving manipulater/murderer how is this Lucy's fault? (again based on the book).

Not sure where you're getting that Shay Mitchell should have been Katniss (don't get me wrong I love shay she's the main reason I watched so much of pll but like... this fancasting is news to me).

mod ali

[thewordswewrite]

The Drought of an Ocean

Chapter 13 - Debts Paid

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Chapter Summary | An unplanned visit to his mother spirals into a dangerous meeting with Snow that leaves Finnick with nowhere to turn.

Chapter Warnings | canon typical violence, nonexplicit forced prostitution, mentions/situations of sexualizing minors, anxiety inducing situations, explicit language, mentions of suicide, character death

W/C | 4.5k

Taglist | @lem0ns77   @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley​   @bela-nov​ @lilylovelyxo​   @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten​ @dd122004dd​ @jyessaminereads​   @aquawhore420   @qallaghereid  @bazzaza​ @zulpix-blog​ @mrsjna​   @americanstarlette @lou-the-confused-bisexual​ @maxinehufflepuffprincess ​

A/N | Listen guys, this one is rough so warning in advance it’s not happy. No one is happy, maybe one day they’ll be happy but not today. Enjoy the angst you came here for. -Smoe :(

Donations |  Link

|Masterlist|

Finnick woke to the newly familiar press of limbs against his. He had been sleeping with his victor for the better part of the week, finding the presence oddly comforting for the both of them, as they kept away the terror sleep often brought. He figured she had never slept with another person before based on the fact that she took up the whole bed, sprawling out her limbs and forcing him to teeter on the edge. All Finnick had to do was a half roll and he was off the bed and on his feet, staring down at the girl wrapped in his sheets, oblivious to the world.

He stood for a moment at the bed, watching the girl’s chest rise and fall rhythmically. In these moments, when the sun was just peeking through the curtains and the morning air still had a little extra bite that made her clutch the blankets tighter to her frame, he thought that maybe he didn’t have so bad after all. In these moments, he could at least pretend that he would see that small deep-dreaming smile during the day, the peace only ruined by remembering that he was him and she was her and that would always be in the way.

Wiping away his thoughts with a hand across his face, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt to change into, deciding he would let his restlessness run free. A morning jog was something new he had added to his routine, the salty air of the beach less abrasive than watching the girl beside him wake contently only for her face to fall when she remembered who she had shared a bed with. At least by the time he got back, she was already busy doing whatever she got up to that he didn’t get to know about.

As he made his way out to shore, he waved occasionally at the fishermen who were already, or about to be, hard at work, hoping to make the day’s catch before the sun rose in the sky and it was time to move on to the market. Sometimes, when he made it to the sand, a scrappy mutt would slink up from near one of the docks, puttering along with him as he did his laps. When the ache in his legs became too much to continue, he planted himself on the sand and the dog would lie next to him though it’d never let him touch, scampering away when he offered a pet. 

Finnick had laid in the sun until he feared he might scorch, deciding it better to deal with the heat that awaited him at home. He watched with folded arms as the pup headed back to its hideaway and let his mind drift to the idea of joining. Slowly, he retreated towards the main road, his feet following the well-worn path with little thought.

As he stepped up to the door, he made a concerted effort to open it quietly in case his girl happened to still be asleep; he doubly made an effort to make sure he gave her space. Upon reaching the foyer however, he could see the girl curled up on the couch, a stack of papers scattered across the coffee table and a thick leather bound book perched in her lap. It was a surprise to see her so openly enjoying the space as he had hardly seen her treat it as a home but rather something closer to a dormitory where the only space that was truly hers was the bedroom. Finnick almost took this as a good sign until he realized that she had only not heard him come in for when he set his keys down on the table, she jolted with a start, snapped the book shut and began to clean up her things. 

Finnick bit his tongue, fighting the words that he wanted so badly to say. Eventually, she would have to accept his presence in the house, their living together, or it would only continue to be a miserable existence. They may not be a real couple but they were at least partners in this game they were forced to play; he would certainly hate for it to end in a stalemate. 

Heading towards the kitchen with his stomach growling, Finnick set out to make breakfast. He was grabbing the ingredients from the fridge, hoping to make enough for two as he had for the past week or so when he spotted the pan already sitting atop the stove, still dirtied from whatever the girl had made. Surely, surely, she had known that he would be back, that he had been making an effort for them to do at least something together. Maybe it was the heat or maybe it was the endless stream of obstacles that seemed to come his way lately but his blood was beginning to boil.

“What is this?” Finnick called out to her pointedly.

She jumped slightly at the noise of the pan being dropped, “Don't worry about it, I’ll do them later.”

“That’s-” He shook his head in disbelief. “You made breakfast?”

“Yeah?” Where she had previously been gathering her papers casually, she picked up speed as she sighed. Finnick could not see whatever she had been working on, her efforts to conceal it obvious, which only made him clench his fists tighter at his sides.

“For yourself?”

“Yes? What’s your point?” She had stopped what she had been doing and stood directly towards him, hands on her hips. He scanned her eyes for any sense of remorse.

“What’s my-” Finnick stared at her in genuine surprise. “I’ve been making all the meals for days with no help, and now-”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” She cut him off. Her eyebrows were lifted as she cocked her head with a sarcastic grin. 

“You didn’t have to! I was making food for myself and because we live together, I made some for you too!”

“You don’t have to do that!” Now she was shouting too. “I didn’t ask for this. I’m not someone you need to take care of!” Not someone he needed to take care of? The days were counting down until their wedding, until they were married and he was just supposed to pretend he was living on his own, passing her by in the hallway like they were strangers all while he kept her bed warm? The lives of those he loved depended on their impression of a happy couple and he wasn’t supposed to take care of her? Finnick was so upset he couldn’t respond, instead beginning to grab his things. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

・・・Ψ・・・

“Mom?” Finnick knocked on the door once more for good measure, his previous attempts eerily unanswered. “Mama?” He twirled his useless key ring in his hand as he leaned his forehead against the door. The curtains were drawn on the front windows and he gave them each a good tap before he slinked around back. Even under the heat of the cloudless sky, he was starting to feel a chill. His mother could easily be at Mags’ or out at the market but he’d never had to worry about where she was before, at the very least there would be a note left for him on the counter if he wasn’t around when she left. 

As he reached the back porch, Finnick’s heart leapt in his chest as he saw the back door left ajar. His feet were moving without a second thought and suddenly in the house frantically searching for his mother. The house was clean to the point of vacancy and if he hadn’t recognized his mother’s few knick-knacks he would’ve thought no one had ever lived there at all. The parallel appearance to his new dwelling only worsened his disorientation and he felt himself becoming dizzy with worry. 

It wasn’t until he stumbled upon her bedroom door, the only one in the house that was closed, that he felt the tears start to well up in his eyes. His hand shook as it gripped the doorknob and a cold rush of air passed through the doorway as it opened. The room, like the rest of the house, was empty but perched atop one of the perfectly arranged pillows sat a single white rose. Finnick’s knees hit the floor before he could spare another thought. There was only a sharp red flash of pain across his vision before everything faded to black. 

・・・Ψ・・・

The light was blinding, a dull throb emanating from the base of his skull. He was moving, that was for certain but it could not have been by his own will for his body felt disconnected from the rest of his being. It was only when he regained feeling in his feet that Finnick realized he was being dragged. His mind posed the idea of fighting back against whatever had him in its grasp but he did not have the strength, all that he possessed being used to keep his head from toppling back. If it weren’t for the hauntingly familiar sound of a pair of double doors opening, he would not have known where he was.

“Now, that’s no way to treat a true Capitol man. Did you at least ask him if he would extend his presence?”

Finnick was forcibly placed in a chair, the whole thing nearly tipping over with his sudden uncontrolled weight. He was trying his best to gain back his composure, the muscle memory of the President’s office pulling him up like a puppet on strings.

“My apologies for the lackluster transportation, my boy,” Snow offered, sliding a fine crystal glass filled with water across his desk. Under any other circumstances, Finnick would never accept a drink from the President but he doubted he would be able to string together a sentence in his current condition. 

“Where’s my mother?” He managed after downing the whole glass. All pretenses of etiquette were gone, stripped down to the essential. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

“That you have,” Snow pondered, rhythmically tapping a gold plated pen on the mahogany of his desk. “And you’ve been dutifully rewarded, have you not?”

“Yes, sir,” Finnick panted, “My mother, sir, please.” Of all the times he had sat in this office, the most debased things demanded of him, the freedoms stripped away from him one by one, he at least had the dignity of taking it with grace but he could do it no more. He would get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if only he could be sent back home in peace. Had he not already accepted his fate?

“Patience. Patience,” The man tsked, sharp as a snake, “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Is this about my g-…my fiancee? I can assure you everything is well.”

“In a way, I suppose it is.” Snow rose from his chair and stalked towards the glass doors leading to the balcony, his domain spanning before him. With a crook of age withered fingers, he beckoned Finnick towards him. On unsteady legs, he joined Snow, the cool breeze emanating from the glass. Next to him, it was easy to forget the power the man held as Finnick had a few inches on him and could easily overpower him but it really meant nothing here. “Let’s not lie to  each other, hm?”

“Of course, sir,” Finnick sighed, his eyes trained on his own shoddy reflection in the glass. Snow chuckled and clamped a hand on Finnick’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. 

“You’ve always been so well-behaved,” The man mused, “An exemplary student of control. You’ve always understood the game, the contract that keeps this precarious world from chaos. I’ve always seen myself in you in that way.” Finnick barely restrained a noise of disgust and hoped that he was nowhere near similar to this tyrant but still he could admit that he allowed the man to play him any way that he wanted. Did that make him no better?

“I’m…honored you see me that way,” He replied, a sound of approval following his response. 

“But we all have our weaknesses, even I.” Finnick’s heart was racing, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Was his mother already lost? Had he been too late. “I know better than most how a man can be…swayed by the affection of a woman.”

“Sir, I-”

“And even more so do I know the consequences that a man must face for breaking the rules.”

Finnick sputtered, trying to imagine where he had failed, “I promise we’re living very happily together. We’re just getting used to the new arrangement but we’re both looking forward to the wedding.”

“Come now, you know that’s not what this is about.” He met the other man’s eyes and Finnick searched them for an answer. How much longer could he take the vague allusions? “After all that I have provided you with,” Snow shook his head, “I can’t stand for a cheater, a liar, someone who abuses my gifts.”

Finnick’s stomach dropped, carving itself into a hollow hole as he thought about his girl, slowly but surely freezing to death and the both expensive and miraculous flint that had saved her life. 

“Did you honestly believe that I wouldn’t hear from my client what business he was keeping with my charge?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I never meant for things to get out of hand I-, I just couldn’t sit and watch her-”

“Die?” Snow uncharacteristically raised his voice, startling Finnick. “That’s what they’re supposed to do. They are but a reminder of what happens when one does not know their place.” The man was seething and Finnick, reduced to a lackey, a child, trembled in front of him. The president took a deep breath before adjusting his suit jacket. “Nevertheless, I am more than willing to offer an opportunity for redemption. I know too the growth one can make with serious consequences.”

“My mom then, sir?” Finnick warbled, his eyes trained on his feet.

“Do this one thing for me and I will return her without a scratch.”

“Anything,” Finnick responded eagerly, “Anything.” He knew what it meant to promise such a thing, the cruel punishments that the President could formulate like no other but for his mother, he would offer up his own life; he knew however, that that would be a mercy he would not be afforded. 

“As you seem so fond of him, you will pay a visit to your friend, Jovian, tonight.” Was that all? Finnick hated his job, that was undeniable, but it was hardly a punishment he couldn’t handle. It wasn’t until Snow grabbed Finnick’s wrist and placed a small vial of liquid into his palm that he understood the gravity of this assignment.

“No, sir, please. He didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me. I only made him think it was his idea,” Finnick could only be digging his grave deeper but he persisted, “Please spare him.”

“You’ve made your bed, my boy, now you must lie in it.”

・・・Ψ・・・

Finnick sat at the ornate desk once more, tapping his foot against the dark wood flooring. The sunlight was temporarily blocked out as the President stood in front of him.

“I assume it’s done?”

“It was almost too easy,” Finnick smiled absently, his eyes blank as images flooded through his mind.

The tap of his heart in his chest was so strong he was sure that it would give him away, that the whole city could hear it and they would soon enough realize that he was nothing more than a criminal walking the streets. His grip on the champagne bottle was nearly lethal as he trudged up the steps to the penthouse, the fluorescent lights above casting a sickly glow on the stairway. Images flashed through his mind in spurts, a cold sweat running down the back of his neck as the screams of his victims filled his ears. He never forgot them, not their names, not how he did it. He could still feel the nearly sickening excitement that he felt at every canon, at every spotting of another tribute in the trees, the water. Whatever he was then, it was barely human; it was animal.

“Finnick? Back again so soon?”

The worst part was always the touch, the feeling of their hands on him. Everything else, that was bearable, tolerable at least, but no amount of scrubbing could get their burning, vile touch off of him. How many times had his mind wandered to the idea of how easy it would be to fight back, to kill, to watch the life fade from their eyes as he had in the arena? Was this not also a game of life or death? Maybe not in the traditional sense but surely something in him died every time he had to feel the unwelcome touch of a stranger. 

“A toast, Mr. Varus?”

“To what, my dear?”

“To good fortune. To life.”

“To life.”

Snow sighed, sitting at his chair, “Did you do it how I instructed?” 

“Every step,” Finnick lied through his teeth.

It was almost inevitable, the way it played out. Finnick could not deny in hindsight that it seemed a sort of sign that Jovian set his glass back down, choosing to taste the champagne from Finnick’s lips instead. Things were escalating quickly, the press of Jovian’s body smothering him and the screams in his head growing louder. That instinct, the wrath within him was growing unchecked and untethered, flooding his vision with a stain of red. Jovian’s hands, as all the rest, had tainted Finnick for years, leaving behind invisible marks that would never fade.

Now, his own hands were moving of their accord, their grip iron tight around the man’s neck. The memories in his mind were becoming crossed into one complete rage, the feeling of the man’s lips on his skin synonymous with the feeling of being hunted, predator against prey. 

“Exactly as you said,” The words were falling out of his mouth, formulating something Snow or maybe he needed to hear. 

It was a bittersweet pleasure, killing him for the second time, for he had already doomed him to this when he used him as a means to an end. But had they not all done the same to him? After all, he had first met Jovian when he was but sixteen years old, still a boy, a child. Never had Finnick been granted such a reprieve as this.

When it all fell away, when there was only a body lying beneath him, he could not deny the part of him that felt satisfaction, satiation. Surely he must deserve some sort of praise for keeping it all at bay for so long. Only Finnick, lying awake at night next to his wife, would ever have to know the undeniably deadly truth of himself. He killed a man with his bare hands, and he liked it.

“And the body?” Snow wondered.

“Gone.”

A slow smile spread across Snow’s face as he clasped his hand together. “Wonderful. Once again you’ve proven to me your loyalty.” Snow stood and gestured towards the door. “As promised.”

Finnick’s head whipped around where the double doors opened, revealing his mother, flanked by two peacekeepers. Her face was bruised and battered, her eyes watery as she looked up at him.

“Finnick,” She gasped in relief.

He could feel himself begin to move, his false exterior breaking away at the sight of his mom. He took one step, then another, Finnick’s hands reaching out to grasp her own.

“But,” A voice boomed out behind him, stopping Finnick in his tracks. “I did tell you not to lie to me.”

Finnick watched in horror as his mom was forced to the ground, her knees knocking harshly against the hardwood of Snow’s office. In a moment he was in action, making quick steps across the room to get to her but he was met by a burly peacekeeper, much larger and stronger than himself and suddenly he was reminded, no matter how many people he’d killed, he was still a nineteen-year-old boy who couldn’t save his mom.

“No! Please!” Finnick yelled, as his arms were restrained harshly behind his back. “I did what you asked! He’s dead, I killed him like you wanted! Please!” There were tears welling in his eyes, blurring his vision.

“You did.” Snow reassured. “But how you wanted. And you lied about it.”

Finnick was frantically shaking his head and strained against the hold of the man behind him, “What does it matter? No one would know!”

“I’ll know. And that’s enough.”

Desperate, Finnick could do no more than plead, the pressure the peacekeeper had on his arms threatening to pop his shoulder from his socket. “Please! Please!”

Finnick watched helplessly as a single shot rang through the room, a dull thump following, then silence. Finnick’s body gave way, his eyes following the pool of blood as it spread across the floor and suddenly he felt sixteen again.

“I thought after the first time you’d have remembered this lesson.” Snow’s voice cut through the room. “Understand this boy, it was you who pulled the trigger today, not me.”

・・・Ψ・・・

She hadn’t quite expected him back for lunch and was not surprised to see him absent at dinner but as night rolled around for a second time without Finnick’s presence, that was the last straw. Even after all this time with him, she could not believe how selfish he was, how he was able to make even the smallest issue a personal attack. How quickly he had adopted the ‘man of the house,’ persona, expecting her to play along at the drop of the hat. 

She threw down her fork, abandoning her fifth meal spent alone and stalked off to the door, grabbing her keys as she went. She had given time, she had given him space and she had awarded peace he did not deserve and he would hear a piece of her mind. The night air was cooler than that of the day and she wrapped her arms around herself and she made her way over to Finnick’s moms house; if he wasn’t there, his mom could at least steer her in a better direction.

When she reached the front porch, she squinted in the dim light, trying to see if what she was seeing was real. The door handle was hanging on by a single screw, the end of it dangling precariously from the door. The whole thing was left open after it was clearly haphazardly torn open and she could tell by a blinking light above the doorway that some sort of silent alarm was going off. Stepping into the foyer, she grabbed the closest thing she could that resembled a weapon, which happened to be an umbrella propped up by the coffee table. 

Upon further inspection, she could see the damage was not limited to the break-in but the interior of the house was in utter disarray. Plates had been smashed, fabric had been torn and furniture had been knocked over. She walked with slow, steady steps, trying to avoid any noisy debris in case the culprit was still inside the house. If Finnick had been around at the time of the attack, it was likely the two of them were safe but if his mom had been alone…she didn’t want to think about it.

The moonlight casted dim shadows across the hall as she carefully made her way to the main bedroom. As she neared, she could not only hear but sense the presence of another person and she readied herself to fight if need be. The door to the room was slightly ajar before she pushed it open slowly with the tip of the umbrella. When the door was fully open, she could make out the distinct shape of Finnick’s form laying across the bed, a sight she had become accustomed to in her own home. She dropped the umbrella on instinct, her anger doubled not only because he had abandoned her but because he had scared her now too.

“Damn you, Finnick! Where the hell have you…” She trailed off when she noticed his eyes staring up at the ceiling, lifeless. “Finnick?” She made her way towards the bed, all anger drained from her body at the sight. Even as she stood over him he did not move or even acknowledge her. The absence of his mother and the state of him began to carve an anxious pit into her chest.

Hesitantly, she took a seat next to him, her eyes flitting across the rest of the room and recognized now that there were obvious signs of a struggle, not just purposeful destruction. Her mind raced at the implications, questions popping into her mind just as fast.

“Where’s your mom?” She asked Finnick to no response. “Where’s your mom, Finnick?” This time she risked his anger by shaking him.

His eyes slowly made their way over to her, the sight startling her, “Gone.”

“What do you mean?” Her adrenaline picked up again. “Gone where? We can go get her, we can-”

“She’s gone!” Finnick yelled, turning away from her and her heart sank at the realization. “Dead.” He muttered, adding, as if it wasn't clear enough.

“But how? I don’t–” She tried reaching out to him.

Finnick curled in on himself, flinching away, “I wish I’d died in that arena.”

She sucked in a sharp breath at the admission. She had been so preoccupied with her own anger towards him, she refused to see how all of this had been affecting him, she refused to see that if he’d only had the chance, he would have come back. He’d lost everything, his house, his life, his family. He had nothing just like her, but not really, because she had him. At every turn he’d been there to support her, through her games and now for the rest of her life and she’d done nothing more than complain. Maybe he’d made a few decisions to make his life easier but could she fault him if she would have done the same? If she had done the same?

Delicately, she moved herself from sitting to lying, and cautiously began to pry Finnick’s hands from around his shoulders. With complete care she maneuvered him to face her, taking his tear-stained face in her hands and looked him in his eyes. His gaze was now trained on her and in a heartbeat he relaxed into her touch. She could feel his arms wrap around her, almost as to reassure himself he wasn’t alone. It was when she held his head to her chest and began to stroke his hair that he broke, sobs forcing themselves from his mouth as he desperately tried to muffle them in her shirt. She continued to run her fingers through his hair for what felt like hours, whispering small assurances to him, trying to calm the boy in her arms. It was like this until they fell asleep, tangled together, trusting no one but each other.

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[bookishcarmela]

Shadows of Affection

warnings: alcohol abuse

slow burn Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 2: The Zoo

As you made your way to the lunch hall, you spotted Felix and the others enjoying their meal. A few tables down, Sejanus sat alone at a table set for three, likely waiting for Corio and you. It was a routine, his ritual, always saving a spot for you even when Felix whisked you away before you could join them. His persistent attention toward you was evident to everyone, but despite your fondness for Felix, you hadn't quite seen him in that light.

you settled beside Sejanus, exchanging greetings and a small smile. "Congratulations on the reaping today. You got the pick of the litter," you said, trying to uplift his mood. But instead of a cheerful response, Sejanus sighed heavily. "What's wrong? Aren't you happy?" you inquired, to which Sejanus replied hoarsely, "You forget. I'm part of that litter."

His words lingered, echoing the struggles he harbored from his past, despite the decade he'd spent in the Capitol. you considered Sejanus a friend, but his refusal to let go of his past hindered his potential to embrace what the Capitol offered. "Sejanus," you began, your words trailing off as Corio's chair scraped against the floor, announcing his arrival. "Are you okay, Corio?" you asked, concern etching your voice. He looked pale well paler than usual, almost on the verge of sickness. Corio slumped into the seat, his normally composed demeanor crumbling. "I'm fine," he muttered, but the sweat on his brow and the discomfort etched on his face spoke otherwise. "Corio, you don't look fine," you pressed gently, leaning closer to him. Corio shook his head, his stubbornness evident even in his discomfort. "I said leave it, Y/n!" he snapped, his tone cutting through the air. you sat in silence for a few seconds as you absorbed the sting of his words. Anger and frustration surged within you, and Coriolanus let out a sigh. "Y/n, I'm-" he began, only to be abruptly cut off by the end-of-lunch bell.

Without uttering a word, you stood up and left, the weight of his scolding lingering. It wasn't that you werent accustomed to Coriolanus's temper; you had grown up together, and you had learned to navigate it. But you despised being scolded, treated as if you were a child. How dare he speak to you like that?

 The rest of your classes passed in a haze of frustration, and you dreaded the prospect of heading home. Luckily, school let out a little earlier due to the reaping, providing you the chance to head straight to my room without encountering Quincey. 

Quincey Bradford, the man your mother married just two years after your father's death, wasn't the result of true love but rather convenience. After your father's passing, your mother spiraled into a destructive cycle of gambling and drowning her sorrows in alcohol. your mother's gambling and drinking habits consumed everything you had. your dwindling funds vanished into the bottom of a bottle or at the turn of a card until there wasn't a single dollar left.You had nothing left. Even the rich were struggling in the war, but you were left with nothing. Survival became a daily fight in a world where having enough to eat felt like a luxury.

Desperation led her to marry Quincey, a move motivated by the need to ensure your basic sustenance. In the aftermath, she adopted the role of the dutiful housewife, maintaining a facade of normalcy. But as time wore on, Quincey's true nature started to show. His temper flared, and soon, your mother bore the brunt of his anger, suffering bruises and wounds hidden beneath forced smiles. She fell back into the abyss of self-pity and despair, and as you grew older, Quincey's temper extended its reach to you. He'd make spiteful remarks about your father's righteousness, only to fall when rebel's bullet finally found its mark, as if his demise were some poetic justice. 

Inspite of everything your mother stayed with Quincey and bore him two children: Benjamin and Charlotte Bradford. Benjamin, a spitting image of his father, possessed pale skin, black hair, and hazel eyes. On the other hand, Charlotte inherited the features of your mother, with tan skin, light brown hair, and dark brown eyes. Thankfully, at eight years old, they hadn't adopted the traits of either of their parents, and in the midst of our troubled home, Benjamin and Charlotte stood apart, untouched by the darkness around us. Their innocence was a comfort, a hope that they'd be shielded from your harsh reality.

As the car rolled to a stop, you reached home, grateful for the quiet. The silence signaled that Quincey and the children weren't around. Passing through the foyer toward your room, you spotted your mother passed out on the couch, a pricey bottle of wine in her hand. Calling for the maid, Christa, you instructed her to help your mother get cleaned up and into bed before your siblings returned. With that sorted, you retreated to your room, determined to finish some last-minute assignments before bedtime.

The perks of working with Dr. Gual included skipping class to assist in her lab. Currently, you were sorting paperwork while she tinkered with a new “experiment”. As you organized, you absentmindedly turned on the small TV nearby. The broadcast announced the arrival of the new tributes. Instead of the usual horse stables, they were being placed in the Capitol zoo—an intriguing twist for this year's Hunger Games.

Focused on your work, you disregarded the TV until gasps and awe erupted from the screen. You glanced over momentarily, catching a glimpse of the tributes being dropped into their enclosure. One of them bore an uncanny resemblance to Coriolanus. But That couldn't be right.

Your attention snapped back to the screen as you realized it was indeed Coriolanus Snow inside the tribute enclosure, hand in hand with his assigned tribute. Shock coursed through me as I noticed her wearing one of his grandmother's roses in her hair. "What the Fuck" I exclaimed, my voice filled with disbelief. Why was he holding her hand? Why was she adorned with his family's emblem? What the hell was going on?

The thought that the day couldn't get any worse shattered when the camera panned out, revealing Benjamin and Charlotte, escorted by your inebriated mother, approaching the cage where 

Coriolanus and his tribute stood. you felt a chill wash over your body, your face draining of color at the sight. While other children hid behind their parents, Benjamin and Charlotte showed no fear. They boldly approached the cage, even extending their hands to shake with Coriolanus's tribute, the "little songbird" whose name you hadn’t bothered to remeber. Your mother, as usual, appeared intoxicated, hiding her eyes behind dark glasses. She seemed utterly unconcerned, heedless of the potential danger her children faced by being so close to the enclosure. 

The commotion and your surprised outburst drew Dr. Gual's attention, prompting her to join you to observe the screen. Her reaction was more amused than alarmed, and she let out a giggle, taking note of your clenched fist. you tried to calm yourself, but your tension only intensified as Coriolanus was pulled out of the cage by Peacekeepers.

As if on cue, a Peacekeeper entered the lab, saluting Dr. Gual and informing her of an urgent meeting requested by Dean Highbottom. you released a deep breath, preparing to resume your work as Dr. Gual left for her meeting. However, before you could settle back into your routine, she glanced back at you with a mischievous grin."Hippity hoppity, little dove, we have a meeting to attend," she said playfully, striding toward the door. you couldn't help but give her a curious look, following her.

As you entered the high biology lab instead of heading to Dean Highbottom's office, you couldn't shake your confusion. Why were you here? Dean Highbottom's presence only added to your perplexity, his gaze scrutinizing you before addressing Dr. Gual.

"Shouldn't you be in class, Ms. Royce?" he inquired, directing his question at you. you opened your mouth to respond, but Dr. Gual interjected smoothly, "I needed her assistance for an experiment of mine."

Her words held an element of truth—you had been aiding her with paperwork—but her insistence on having your help, specifically, was alittle puzzling but you didnt think to hard about it. Before the dean could press further, a knock interrupted, prompting an annoyed sigh from the dean as he allowed entry. To your surprise, Coriolanus stepped through the door, causing a jolt of shock and uncertainty to course through me. What was happening? You asked yourself 

Coriolanus and I exchanged surprised looks, both seemingly shocked by the presence of the other. 

You stood in silence until Dr. Gual broke it “ Hippity, hoppity.” Dr. Gaul grinned. “How was the zoo?” Then she was laughing. “It’s like a children’s rhyme. Hippity, hoppity, how was the zoo? You fell in a cage and your tribute did, too!” Coriolanus’s lips stretched into a weak smile as his eyes darted over to you for some clue as to how to react. You attempted to signal him subtly, urging him to follow along with her banter. "We did. We fell in a cage," Coriolanus finally replied, uncertain of where this conversation was headed. Dr. Gaul seemed to expect more, raising her eyebrows in anticipation. Your attempts to help Coriolanus seemed futile as he hesitated, prompting Dr. Gaul to coax him further."And?" she prodded, encouraging him to continue. "We... landed onstage?" he added tentatively Dr. Gaul chuckled approvingly. 

"You're good at games. Maybe one day you'll be a Gamemaker just like my little dove here," she remarked, playfully switching her attention between Coriolanus and you.

Then, unexpectedly, she directed a question to Coriolanus, "Do you know her, my little dove?"

Confusion washed over you. Dr. Gaul's antics seemed calculated, but her probing question made little sense. She was aware that you knew eachother, so why this charade?

Coriolanus composed himself and responded, "Yes, I am familiar with Ms. Royce," but Dr. Gaul's displeasure was evident. She frowned slightly before redirecting her attention to the dean.

"Me and my little dove have work to do, so we’ll get out of your hair. When you're done, come see me in my lab, Dean Casca," she declared, heading toward the door. You followed her out, shooting Coriolanus a lingering look.

The word "familiar" echoed in your mind during the return to the lab. Coriolanus's choice of words stung. Familiar, as if your friendship was trivial, as if you were just a foolish girl trailing after him like an idiot. Unbeknownst to you Dr. Gual’s little test for you had gone just as expected.

[mysteriesbooks]

after I did a Snow Lands On Top one, i realized I immediately had to do the other iconic quote in my mind  (sticker and such) 

[k-chips]

Spoilers for The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

I fucking LOVE how in the epilogue the book starts to refer to Coriolanus as just "Snow".

No more "Coriolanus". Just "Snow".

He's not the sweet yet smart and manipulative boy that deeply cares about his cousin and grandma or the boy who gives sweets to a little girl and carry her around when she hurts her foot. He's not the boy who fell in love with a girl and did everything to protect her. He's not the boy that helped his classmates.

He's not the boy that uses his mother memory and her old powder case as a way to calm down and feel safe.

He's just Snow, cold and manipulative, with now only his father compass and rat poison

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Him: you better not be cunty Lucy Gray when I get there

My unruly ass: