#songbird again

[thebirdandhersong]

The feminine urge to sink my teeth into a loaf of bread and violently tear chunks out of it like a lion devouring its prey, letting out the occasional roar of triumph for effect

[neilgaimanlover123]

The Percy Jackson renaissance and The Hunger Games renaissance happening in the same year is something so special to me

[katnissandpeetamellark]

The last one is literally Snow following Sejanus to the back of the Hob. I said what I said.

[emptyjunior]

Let's talk about Peeta, I believe he's a fully genuine person and a lot of what he said was authentic. Like he can be manipulative, he has that gift of gab, and we see it a lot more in Catching Fire or later on in the series.

But I do believe he was being very strategic in the first book as well! Like right out the gate!

Kind of the story presented to us is:

-katniss suspicious of him for being nice

-thinks he's playing the game to screw her over

-oh she was wrong he's just a good human being

And I think a lot of elements of that interpretation are true! Katniss is wrong about him trying to screw her over!

But he is still being strategic, he does have plans and he is trying to save himself, not just sacrifice for her.

We all remember the "she came here with me" moment, life changing, showstopping, hilarious. And that was a true moment! He does love Katniss!

And Haymitch interprets it as what it is, a gift to Katniss to make her seem desirable = attract sponsor attention.

But it was also very beneficial to him as well! Like ask yourself what happened just before that.

Katniss had just received a 12, the entire team was excited about just her, immediately forgetful of his 8. Peeta had just told Haymitch they could train without him, something Haymitch says he offered himself (which I believe) but Peeta is not a fool. He was aware that what happens now is: the mentor focuses attention on the one who will win! And Peeta was sparing himself the pain of Haymitch telling him that first.

So Peeta is being forgotten about by Effie and the wardrobe crew (their entire PR/propoganda department) and he is losing training from Haymitch.

So what does he do?

He goes on television and presents the plot of Star Crossed Lovers. Sells the story of the Duo, the Couple.

And it's a valuable story! Effie eats it up, Haymitch knows he can sell it, but the only way to sell it is if the two are a pair. Two lovers training together, coordinating together, being publicly mentored together.

Peeta made sure he was given every advantage Katniss was getting with one simple interview, he's always been strategic. Even more strategic then Snow cause he actually knows how to sell the truth.

And immediately after that is him and Katniss's little moment where they talk about humanity together. Peeta confesses that his greatest fear is becoming like the people in the capitol, becoming not himself.

And Katniss doesn't really understand what he's talking about! And my first read I didn't either!

He's feeling guilty cause he just sold himself. He participated in the bread and circuses, and he's reeling at how easy it was and how good he is at it.

[kamaluhkhan]

you are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

pairing: young!coryo snow x fem!reader

summary: clemensia dovecote has a theory that you and snow are destined for an enemies to lovers arc. you're sure it's completely, absolutely not true...right?

warnings: 18 + smut; biting + mention of blood ; both reader and snow are not the best ppl and have some very classist/elitist opinions

a/n: finally!! i wrote one of the ideas that has been haunting me ever since i've been back in my hunger games obsession + watched tbosbas...needless to say this will likely be a series inspired by taylor swift's reputation album. also i am so sorry this is unedited bc ofc it's 3am when i had the motivation to write this but i hope y'all enjoy ♡

i've had enemies so intense it felt like love, so mutual it felt romantic (chelsea hodson)

"what in the name of all the gods is he doing here?"

you're practically seething when coriolanus snow walks into your foyer. he's wearing an ensemble made with crisp white silk and intricately embroidered with gold thread - elegant, eventhough its silhouette would have been fashionable last year. a single white rose sits in the pocket of his jacket. he surveys the crowd, like he's calculating who's most worthy of his attention, platnium blond hair perfectly curled and practically glowing under the light of the chandelier. he looks beautiful, almost angelic.

you absolutely hate it.

"oh, i invited him," clemensia dovecote informs non-chalantly.

coriolanus makes eye contact with you from across the room, and you turn your head sharply to your best friend.

"why would you think it was okay to invite him?"

clemensia smiles mischeviously, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing silver tray. she hands one to you.

"i know the two of you have your petty squabbles — "

"they are not petty, nor are they squabbles," you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

your contempt towards coriolanus was perfectly reasonable and absolutely mutual. he had some ridiculous notion that snow had to land on top, that it was his right to be there instead of yours. your relationship, if you could call it that, was limited to nothing more than snide remarks, sarcastic comments, and scornful stares. you both hyperaware of the importance of keeping up appearances, but the older you got - the closer to life outside of the academy and the higher the stakes - the more any sense of civility between you two faded. just earlier this week, you'd gotten into such a heated debate about the best way to increase viewership for the upcoming 10th annual hunger games, that your professor excused you both from the class early due to the disruption. it seemed that no one knew how to make you burn with anger quite like coriolanus snow.

clemensia rolls her eyes. "whatever you want to call it, i actually think the two of you would get along if you really tried."

one of the things you admired - and, frankly, loathed - about clemensia was her determination to always prove herself right. she had this theory - one you would call ludicrous - that the tension between you and coriolanus had nothing to do with academics or status and everything to do with wanting to rip each other's clothes off.

your eyes catch coriolanus' icy blue ones again and you down the rest of your drink. obviously, clemensia was wrong about this. so, very wrong.

"well," you huff, setting your empty glass down on another silver tray that passes by. you brush invisible dust off your dress - a deep red lace, short and form fitting with exaggerated long sleeves - and add: "you'll be lucky if i invite you to my next party."

clemensia might have had the sense to apologize then, but you walked away before she had a chance.

you allow yourself to weave through the crowd, greeting every guest with an equal facade of enthusiasm and grace. you smile as brightly at one person as you do the next, showing off your newly bleached teeth and making sure that everyone feels special. silver trays of food and drinks appear and reappear throughout the crowd, being carried by nameless waiters. there's a table overflowing with gifts concealed by crisply folded wrapping paper - you expect at least half of them will be worthless.

you put up a good front, but soon enough your lipstick needs reapplying and your hair readjusting, so you briefly excuse yourself lest anyone notice a crack in your perfectly constructed image. the door to your room is slightly ajar, and you open it to reveal none other than the person you'd deliberately, but not so successfully, tried to ignore all night, his white silk shirt stained a dark crimson that happened to match your dress.

coriolanus was furious when he found out you'd invited the entire graduating class, except him, to your birthday party. you'd even invited sejanus. it wasn't that he particularly wanted to celebrate you, of all people. you were the most brilliant, biting, enfuriating person he knew, but to be excluded in such a way was insulting. when clemensia extended him the invite, he jumped at the chance to prove to everyone, to you, that he belonged here. tigris curated his outfit, and it would have been perfect had arachne crane, vapid creature she was and ever the lightweight, spilled an entire glass of red wine on him. he hurried away before anyone could see him in such a humiliating state. coriolanus is in the middle of calculating his options when you walk into what he now realizes is your bedroom.

you don't say a word at first. you haven't said one to him all night. instead, you close the door behind you and your eyes graze his figure.

"you show up to my party, late no less, and now you're parading around in what looks like a bloodstained shirt that is far too outmoded to be appropriate attire for this occasion," you remark, displaying that signature fierceness. "are you trying to ruin my birthday, snow?"

"don't blame me," coriolanus scoffs. his shoulders tense and he makes a point to stand up a bit straighter. "blame arachne for not being able to hold her alcohol while she's complaining about the food."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

"something about people in the districts having better options."

"vapid bitch," you mutter under your breath. you walk over to your closet, disappearing for a few seconds before bringing out a fresh shirt. you extend it to him, but he doesn't take it.

"i can't very well have a good time when one of my guests looks like he just got killed in the hunger games," you huff. "so either you put this on or your leave my party. now."

coriolanus holds your gaze, his jaw clenched, before giving in and taking the shirt from you. he goes to undo the buttons of his shirt, but stops when he notices that your eyes never leave him.

"some privacy would be nice," he says sharply.

you roll your eyes, muttering something about it being your house and your room, before sitting across the room at your vanity. as he undresses and throws his soiled shirt on the floor, coriolanus watches you closely. you meticulously apply lipstick, the shade of red almost as dark as your black nails.

you were attractive, there was no denying that, but ultimately dangerous. because you weren't carelessly cruel like arachne, nor did you wear your heart on your sleeve like sejanus. you didn't use your family's status as an excuse to avoid hard work like felix, nor were you a spineless know-it-all like clemensia. no, you were different from the rest. you had a fiery ambition and a sharp tongue, a wicked streak with just enough charisma to lure people in. sometimes when he thinks of you, coriolanus recalls stories his grandma'am once told him and tigress, about sea monsters who would tempt sailors with their bewitching voices and enchanting beauty, enticing them to risk everything - to jump into the ocean and never be relevant as anything more than a midnight snack. you were a constant, suffocating reminder of how quickly he could lose everything if he lost control, if he gave in.

coriolanus watches you set down the tube of lipstick before picking up a compact. you lightly brush the shimmery powder inside over your face to accentuate some of your gorgeous features.

the desire that burns throughout his body now has to be a side effect of the few glasses of liquor he managed to drink, allowing himself the appearance of having a good time alongside everyone else without losing control.

your eyes leave your reflection momentarily, and you finally catch coriolanus staring at you. you wink at him from across the room just as he's finished with the last button. the way you look at him makes the collar of his shirt feel tighter.

he can not give in....but what's the harm in admitting, just for one night, that he would let you drown him? devour him? beg on his knees to give you pleasure, and then thank you after the fact?

coriolanus clears his throat. "this feels wrong. i should be the one gifting you with a new shirt. it's your birthday, after all."

you let out a breathy laugh, setting down your makeup. you walk over to him, until there are only a few inches between you despite the vastness of your bedroom.

even you had to concede that coriolanus snow had such a gorgeous face for such a vicious person. you're infuriated by how elegant he looks now, in your shirt. your hands busy themselves in smoothing down his already perfect collar and you take note of the intensity of his heartbeat. you notice the way his jaw remains clenched, his posture stiff, his skin flushed. you realize that he must be trying so hard right now to retain his composure around you and you feel something that can only be described as triumph.

you smile at him, sickly sweet, and remove your hands from his body. "the best birthday present i could get is winning the plinth prize over you, snow. we both know you're not good enough, let alone better than me."

he hesitates slightly before responding.

"sorry, valerius. that's the one thing i can't give you. is there anything else you'd want from me?" he whispers, words dripping like honey.

"that depends, is there anything you want from me?"

he hums, moving his hand to cup your cheek. he begins to trace your lips with his thumb, ruining the look you had so meticulously crafted.

if only you knew.

"you're the birthday girl, sweetheart," he chides. "i'm supposed to be the one giving the gift. you do know how birthdays work, don't you?"

he's mocking you, you know that. he's trying to make you feel weak and small. you had the power a second ago, his heartbeat in the palm of your hand, and normally you wouldn't stand for him turning the tables. you'd push him away, storm out the door. but right now all you want is to tug on his perfect blond curls, to bite the smirk off his lips. maybe it's the way he's so close and can't seem to take his eyes off your lips or the calculated amount of wine you drank that's made your head a bit foggy, made you put your guard down. made you start to entertain the idea that maybe possibly clemensia's theory had some truth to it.

"why don't you surprise me?" you suggest.

coriolanus surges forward and kisses you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starving. teeth on teeth on tongue. you instantly tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some curls just to see what he'd do. he retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of honeyed wine on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you cannot go too far.

"sorry." but he smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it.

eventually, you've both stumbled onto the bed half-naked. coriolanus positions himself above you, effectively caging you in with his arms and legs. you take note of his lean thighs, his bare torso with skin taut around his bones. you're almost taken aback by how frail he looks - like a malnourished teenager from one of the districts. you reach out to trace the outline of his ribs, your nails scraping against his skin, and he shudders. your hand moves lower, teasing the waistband of his underwear. he stops you before it slips underneath the material.

instead, coriolanus begins to indulge in his deepest fantasy. he kisses and sucks and bites down your body, his tongue trailing down your chest, over your breasts and around your nipples, across your stomach. he laps up your soft whines, the curses that tumble from your lips for him to do something more. you sink further into the silk sheets when he arrives between your thighs. you raise your hips, desperate to find any sort of relief, and you feel his nails dig into your hips.

"patience," he teases, his breath fanning over where you needed him most. "so needy." you could practically feel coriolanus roll his eyes.

"i swear to god snow, if you don't do something soon. i-i'll go find someone else to fuck me. felix, or maybe sejanus --"

you yelp when his teeth sink into your inner thigh. he looks up at you, eyes the darkest blue you've ever seen them.

"don't," coriolanus warns, and he gets back to work, lips actually arriving at where you needed them most.

after you've reached your high, he comes back up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls away, you take note of how his lips and nose shine with remnants of you. the way he looks at you while he licks his lips shows you that he wants more. you move your hand down, and you're deeply satisfied when you feel him half hard, already sticky with his release.

"oh." you smirk. "you already finished."

his eyes widen, skin flushing pink. you could feel his heartbeat grow faster above you. you could imagine he was debating the best way to restore his dominance from before. yet, here he was, nothing but a horny teenage boy who came untouched as he was eating out his worst enemy. you find it in you to not call him pathetic, but instead decide, in your post-orgasm haze, you find it endearing.

"i-i didn't mean to, but --"

"i'm just that sexy when i cum," you suggest, running your hands through his curls to calm him down. "how about we try again, pretty boy?"

soon enough, he's sitting up with his back against your headboard and your legs wrapped around his waist, his length fully nestled into your warm cunt. coriolanus' blunt nails graze your hips, moving lower to your ass to guide you with each thrust. you love seeing him underneath you, seeming completely mesmerized by how your breasts bounce up and down in front of him. he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, but you beat him to it. you bend forward and suck bruises onto his skin, everywhere and anywhere: underneath his chin, across his collarbone, where his neck meets his shoulder.

his moans are so loud, and you're sure he's not going to last much longer. you're also worried that some of the other party guests might catch you, so you pull his head away from your shoulder and crash your lips back onto to his. you swallow his moans as best you can, tongues fight for dominance, but he lets out a deep groan, and lets you win. you bite down on his bottom lip just as you reach your climax, causing him to let out a deep groan once more.

you gasp when he suddenly flips you over, pulls out of you and stokes himself a few times before painting your body with his release. coriolanus all but collapses on the bed beside you. you're both breathing heavily for a few moments, on your backs looking up at the ceiling, before he turns on his side towards you. coriolanus trails hs fingers down to your abdomen, sticky with his cum.

"i told you: snow lands on top."

"was that a joke, coryo?" you guffaw, genuinely surprised at the mischievous but playful glint in his eye. a bit surprised at yourself, too, for using his nickname that you'd so carefully avoided. you had to remind yourself that he was still the same coriolanus snow you'd grown to hate.

the boy tangled in the sheets beside you, his messy curls translucent under the light of your chandelier, his skin glowing with sweat and decorated with lipstick and rose-petal bruises. the boy who now smiles at you with dazzling blue eyes, leans closer and whispers:

"don't get used to it. it's a special occasion." coriolanus kisses you sweetly, and you shiver before he adds: "happy birthday."

this boy in bed with you now is the same manipulative, power hungry snake who would stab you in the back if need be. and, the truth of the matter is: you aren't much different, either.

you get up to grab his wine-stained shirt, use it to wipe off his release and toss it back down to the floor.

his eyes follow you the entire time, even as you come back to straddle him again. almost instantly, you feel him harden underneath you. you hold his head in your hands, kiss him deeply, tease his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away.

"snow lands on top, huh? not for long, if i can help it."

[its-tea-time-darling]

➸ The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (2023) vs. The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013)

Look at this. They're holding hands. I want them dead.

[killlerfang1]

Theres a lot you can criticize about how the Hunger Games franchise marketed their movies (looking at you hanging tree club remix). But if there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that they do not fuck around when it came to their posters

[rosenacree]

live laugh lucy gray

[krusekis]

I prefer unromanceable NPCs 💔

There was supposed to be a "I Prefer Girls" text in here like in the original meme. But pairing it with a Blackwall background made it look like a suspense-thriller thing lmao (I'm not good with typography 💀)

[ggwritesstuff]

hey!! Could you do a fic with finnick odair where r was in the blood rain during the quarter quell and is really shook up from it and finnick helps her clean up and calm down? Thanks!!!

Here Now, Here Always.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: the quarter quell blood rain, brief discussions of trauma, mostly just some finn comfort, not totally proofread

a/n: anon!! thank u so much this took me out of my writing drought :,) i made a few tweaks to the original idea but i hope u still enjoy <3

a/n pt 2: please forgive my formatting if it’s awful i haven’t had to format a post on here in a LOOONG time

It’s been years since the Quarter Quell where the blood rain incident occurred. Caught in the middle of the forest as a viscous, crimson red rained down on you; flooding the divots and lapses in the ground around you and pooling up to your calves in some areas. If it weren’t for Finnick, you would have been another victor turned fallen tribute in the sky that night. The onslaught of blood could’ve flooded and drowned you where you stood with how paralyzed your fear had rendered you. But Finnick, ever the heroic type, came to your rescue. Dodging puddles with every careful step until he reached you, hauling you over his shoulder and carrying you to the shore where he cleaned you up and calmed you down.

The rest was history. You had left that arena with Finnick who has hardly left your side since. However, you also left with the horrific image of your lover drenched in that blood rain. It still haunts you to this day. Especially when it’s raining, like it is tonight.

You’d been tossing and turning for the last hour, the drizzle against yours and Finnick’s bedroom window keeping you awake, plaguing your tired mind with the memories of that day. You felt silly being kept awake by it, unable to relax. You knew that logically, of course it was a normal rainfall. However, trauma doesn’t care much for logic. So you fumbled around in bed for what felt like hours until you felt Finnick’s side of the bed move a bit as he turned to face you.

“You okay, hon?” He asked, his voice soft yet still gruff with sleep. His large, calloused hand reached for your face, landing gently on your cheek as he stroked it with his thumb. You nodded silently to his question, and though his eyes were still bleary he could feel the motion you made.

“Rain keepin’ you up?” You nodded again. Finnick then moved to pull you closer, bringing your back flush to his chest, “S’okay, m’right here sweetheart.” He mumbled sleepily, snaking a strong arm under yours and around your waist. He was so warm against you, your own personal furnace as you’ve called him before. A personal armory of weapons couldn’t make you feel safer than you do with Finnick.

The rain continued to beat against the bedroom window, only now your eyelids were finally growing tired as you were wrapped in Finnick’s protective embrace. He was there during the blood rain. He was there for every rainfall since, comforting and assuring you that you were safe. He’s here now, and he always will be.

“Love you, Finny.” You whispered, intertwining your fingers with his own and bringing his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the warm, ever tanned skin.

“Love you more, dear.” He whispered back, the feeling of his lips against the soft skin of your neck the last thing you feel before finally falling asleep.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 9: So that's where the turtle came from!

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[thebirdandhersong]

it's that time of year lads

[sunshineandwhiteroses]

Sejanus was definitely a physical manifestation of Coryo's good conscience. Sejanus represented kindness and innocence that borders on ignorance due to his upbringing, the same upbringing that Coriolanus should have had, if his father hadn't died. Sejanus lingers around, annoying Coryo with his goodness that reminded me of an angel on your shoulder.

And then we have this scene that I just can't stop thinking about where we can see how Coriolanus is not quite at Dr. Gaul's level regarding her ideas about the Hunger Games, but they're the only ones standing. She literally comes down to his level to hear his ideas. And in between them, Sejanus. She asks him what he thinks the Hunger Games are for and his answer in this moment doesn't satisfy her, and then when Sejanus dies, the barrier dissolves, and he knows the answer she wants and sets himself up to become her.

[katnissandpeetamellark]

More random Incorrect quotes 🫶

[aqukana]

i love that Lucy Gray wasn't a fighter. she was just a genuine person who was good and kind and loved the world despite its condition, and i love that it's exactly why Snow is haunted by her. a person like her would rather die in the woods than be with him. a person like her, who believed there is good in everyone, even him, saw him for exactly who he is and fled somewhere he can't catch her.

[shortbreadly]

i want them back :,)