#tigris was such a kind soul

[adip-in-theink]

I saw some posts wondering what could have happened to Tigris between TBOSAS and the trilogy and I could only think she might have been similar to Cinna.

In TBOSAS, we already know she doesn't like/does not approve of the Hunger Games. She openly tells Coriolanus this. And we know at the end of the book he becomes an intern as a Gamemaker and I assume he was responsible for most of the changes in the Games.

So Tigris became an official stylist of the Games, we know this. So what if she designed costumes that are also strong testaments for the tribute. Maybe going so far as walking the line with what was allowed. Of course, Snow would pick up on this. Eventually, he fired her but didn't kill her (as he did Cinna) because she was still a Snow.

I'm torn about the tattoos though. On one hand, I think she did it so she would "disappear" (since people must recognize her as a Game stylist) and perhaps distance herself from who she was (a Capitol citizen) in the guise of following the trend. On the other, what if Snow ordered her to stop meddling with Capitol business, not without a threat, and drove her in hiding?

[marvelsswansong]

perfectly poisonous pair

summary: the three times Coriolanus realizes you're his perfect match, his eternal soulmate: darkness and all.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and dark soft!Corio with equally unhinged reader (an anon previously said morticia x gomez addams vibes), fluff, violence, non-canon compliant, CW for graphic descriptions of violence, kidnapping, murder, possessive/dark thoughts - please take care of yourself first!

☆ word count: 6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Marriage is, at first instance to Coriolanus, an institution and an act that he doesn't quite see the point of.

The legal and financial benefits, sure. But committing himself to one person, to be bound to them body, heart and soul for the rest of his life? That level of vulnerability and permanence feels too foreign. Too abstract, even, that thinking about it quickly makes his stomach churn with sickness.

Coriolanus spends the majority of his upbringing, consoling himself that he doesn't have the time to worry about such things as romance. After all, there was always the next bill to pay and the next threat of eviction to dread.

Not to mention, he thinks, no one will truly ever get him. Not even grandma'am or Tigris understands his inner being. The man deep within his guts, the cunning voyeur who enjoys violence and manipulation. And if they only knew, he believes, they'd be horrified.

No one really knows Coriolanus for who he is. And no one will truly be able to understand what it's like to feel and think like him.

So marriage is completely out of the question for him.

At least for a long time.

Until he meets you.

------------------------------

the beginning: "must be a coincidence."

You're the first person (other than the wide-eyed idealist, Sejanus) to treat Coriolanus with kindness at the academy.

You come in as a transfer student mid-way through the semester and he comes to notice the small ways with which you show your appreciation for him. Slyly backing up his answers in class discussions. Smiling at him in the hallways. Sticking up for him in conversations, not caring if the others give you odd looks for defending a 'clear outsider' amongst them.

"If you ever need anything, you can always count on me." you'd once told him after school, his knees barely brushing against yours in the car you've invited him into so that he wouldn't have to walk home in the freezing cold.

Suppressing the urge to interrogate the reasoning behind your kindness, his numb fingers felt sudden warmth when you delicately placed a crumbled up note into his fist with your address in it.

"Stop by whenever you need something. Don't suffer alone, okay?"

He never takes you up on your offer.

At least, not until a few months later, when he finds himself knocking on your door late at night. Three in the morning to be precise, with a busted lip and dark red stains blossoming across his white shirt.

And when you open the door, you don't react to his disheveled state in the same way he'd expect from his family. No pity and shock like grandma'am, nor is there a trace of light apprehension and fear like there would be from Tigris.

Instead, your eyes crinkle with kindness as you invite him inside your home and sit him down on a nearby chair in the living room.

"How bad is it?" you ask, cutting him off with a stern glare before he can lie. "And don't lie to me, Snow. I need to know if you're going to need a drive to the hospital instead of my attempts at first aid."

Sighing, the blonde gives in, his bones aching too much to put up a fight.

"Not that bad, I promise." he grumbles, trying to keep his breathing normal as you lean in closely to examine his injuries. At this proximity, he can see the reflection of the overhanging yellow lights in your irises, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration before you leave the room and return with a soft towel and warm bowl of water.

"Could you look up for me?" you question, your cold fingers steadying his neck to carefully crane it upwards.

The warm, wet fabric in your hands then trace the edges of his jaw, picking up the droplets of blood scattered across his face.

Keeping his eyes forward at the line of bookshelves by the fireplace, time seems to slow down. His senses are overwhelmed by your hairwash - rosemary and vanilla, he thinks - and the room is awfully quiet. All he can hear is the muted sounds of your soft breaths and the rustling of leaves outside, the pale moonlight creeping in through the gaps of the floral curtains in the dead of December.

"Do you mind me asking what happened?" you ask, now switching your attention to the trail of blood buried into the crevice of his neck. You cringe right afterwards, almost wincing at your audacity. "Sorry, you don't have to say if you don't want to."

If anything, it just makes him smile. He likes seeing you embarrassed, he thinks.

"No, it's fine. I'll say. It was just... a party gone awry. Felix managed to convince everyone to go downtown."

You frown at the mention of the downtown area - it was common knowledge that it wasn't safe to wonder the south of the Capitol this late at night, especially if you were obviously from central.

"And then?"

"Got jumped. Felix and his friends ran away quickly. Sejanus got caught up in the mix and I couldn't just... leave him."

Coriolanus hates admitting the slightest sign of weakness, that perhaps he had a friend he cares for, so he's eternally glad that you don't dwell on it. Humming in response, you squeeze the towel in your hands, the water below now a murky shade of brown.

"And how much of this blood is your own? Do I need to get the sewing needles out?"

"I-"

His response is staggered by brief flashes of the fight playing in his mind. He recalls there being a lot of heavy breathing and fast movements. A slash there. A broken nose there. His feet driving down onto the man's chest repeatedly, down, down, down - he hears bones cracking at some point and Sejanus is suddenly pulling him backwards, begging him to stop but Coriolanus can't-

"Coriolanus."

Your voice snaps him out from his dazed state. He then swallows nervously, not knowing how much is safe to disclose.

"I'm fine. Really. Just some bruises and a split lip. The blood is from dodging a few knife attacks and the criminals stabbing one another."

It's a half-truth, really. Coriolanus had dodged a few stabs his way, but only because he tripped the man charging him and grabbed the knife instead to drive it into the man's sides. Enough to severely wound, but not kill. He feels the soles of his left shoe drag on the floor, the fabric nearly coming off from the repeated force with which he'd stepped on the other accomplice's ribs. It makes his jaw clench with embarrassment.

If you notice it's a lie, you don't say anything.

You ask him if he can undress, so that you can wash his clothes for him. After all, you tease in a lighthearted manner in an attempt to lift the mood, you still have school tomorrow at eight.

"You can leave the dirty clothes hanging by the chair outside the bathroom. I think you're overdue for a long, hot shower."

All arguments die in Coriolanus' mouth when he realizes how nice this feels. The foreign comfort of being cared for by someone else, of having his guard down and following someone else's lead for once. So he wordlessly follows you to the bathroom in the back and discards of his dirtied clothes outside.

The hot water is a nice luxury, the scalding temperature starting to erase his memories of the fight. He rubs his scalp raw and watches the water beneath his feet fade into the drain, the steady dripping of water droplets calming his mind.

When the blonde finishes, he comes out and sees that you've folded a set of new, clean clothes for him by the door of the bathroom (your father's old clothes, he learns). Once changed, he wanders outside and finds you hanging the freshly washed clothes outside on your front lawn.

"You should go home, Corio." you say quietly. "Your cousin and grandmother must be worried sick." you look back at him, a reassuring smile on your face.

"How... how can I ever repay you for all this?" he finds himself asking, desperate for an answer. Surely, you'll want something back for this. Certainly, this was all to get something back from him-

You shake your head sideways, waving your hand in dismissal.

"There's no need to repay me. I like to think you help me out every day at school, so think of this as more of... a much delayed gift."

Once you're both back inside the house, no longer shivering from the cold, he finds the silence to be oddly tense. You're in your sleepwear, after all, a silky night dress stopping right above your knees with a gray knit cardigan on top.

He swallows, nervously. He hopes you can't tell how fast his heart is beating.

"Uh, thank you. Seriously. I owe you."

"You really don't."

"I really do."

You roll your eyes playfully.

"The only person who owes me anything is Felix. He shouldn't have suggested you all go to downtown when it's dangerous, and he especially shouldn't have left you and Sejanus to nearly get stabbed to death." you spit, and your angry expression makes him chuckle.

"Ah, well, but he is the president's son. What can we do." he jokes. A small grin flickers onto your lips for half a second at that comment.

"So he is. Good night, Corio. I'll see you tomorrow."

It's initially an uneventful day for Coriolanus the next morning when he walks into the academy, naturally catching your eyes from across the room. You give him a reassuring nod from behind the door of your locker, where the majority of your attention is being held up by an overeager Felix - your assigned partner for the week.

Due to his schedule, Coriolanus doesn't see you again until lunch time. By which the newest rumor sweeping the academy has been the sudden violent illness which has fallen upon the president's son.

"I heard he was puking blood." he hears Clemensia whisper to Arachne, who nods furiously.

"Sejanus had to carry him to the medic's office - Felix looked like a half-dead ghost."

He's itching to speak to you as he quickly rounds the corner and runs up the flights of stairs leading to the library, where he's shared many lunches with you before. He knows your favorite sport by heart, that being the cozy seat under the large arched windows overlooking the front lawn.

As expected, he finds you there, sitting cross legged and gazing out towards the lawn. Upon closer inspection, he sees that you're watching Felix get escorted into a dark vehicle, an unreadable expression on your face.

"Have you heard that Felix is sick?" Coriolanus carefully asks, sitting down from across from you. You turn to him, your face scrunching up in sadness.

"Yes I have. Terrible news, really. Something about nasty nausea and uncontrollable vomiting."

Your tone is sympathetic and your face has all the features of genuine worry, but there's a small twinkle in your eyes that indicates a secret.

It makes Coriolanus delirious with want.

"And would his illness have anything to do with you being close to him as his project partner?" he questions, sliding in closer towards you to keep his voice down.

He looks down at your lips then back up at you, smirking.

"Just seems strange, don't you think? Given that he seemed just fine last night?"

A half-second smile, you shrug.

"Must be a coincidence."

He kisses you right then and there.

---------------------------------------

the point of no return: "you're quite a messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Finding you is a miracle to him.

And now that you two are officially dating, he sees the glimmer of hope for something permanent like marriage in the future.

But Coriolanus is still unsure of the publicity of that kind of arrangement, which leads him to request that you two keep the relationship under wraps. At least until graduation, he justifies, to keep the romance hidden away from the judging eyes of the faculty and fellow classmates.

You don't seem the least bit bothered by the news, your lips only quirking up into a warning smile as you tease that you may then have to bring other men as dates to public events to save face.

At the time, he'd just shrugged at that, playing it cool. "I don't get jealous easily." he'd said confidently.

Oh, how he was wrong.

It's only after he becomes your boyfriend that he becomes acutely aware of and sensitive to how desirable you are to others. Visitors to the academy flirt with you openly, not knowing that Coriolanus is watching from the background, fuming with anger. Your male classmates are too eager to carry your books for you, their body leaning ever too close towards yours when you ask them to pass on the papers in class.

But this, right now, seeing you with another man at the spring gala... It feels different.

Those people, the strangers and classmates, you let down firmly but gently. Those people, you wouldn't even let their hands hover above your skin, always placing a firm distance between you and them. Those people-

Fuck.

You didn't smile at those people like you're smiling at this date of yours. The tall, dark haired man's arm is lingering just above your waist, too close for Coriolanus' comfort, and his thoughts turn lethal when the man leans down to whisper something in your ear that seemingly makes you laugh.

It takes everything within him to not lose control then, when Sejanus speaks up.

"You alright?"

His friend's voice cuts into the tirade of violent thoughts playing in Coriolanus' mind, the whiskey starting to taste sour in his mouth. Forcing another sip of alcohol, he meticulously coaches himself to nod along, feigning disinterest in you and the mystery man.

"Just fine, Plinth." he grits out, but with his steely blue orbs not deviating from where you and your date are standing, it's obvious to any bystander that he's lying. So Sejanus chuckles, nudging the blonde playfully.

"Yeah right. Though, I'm not surprised that (Y/n) brought him along." Sejanus takes a sip of his wine, before pausing at seeing the blonde's expression remain hardened. "You do know who he is, right?"

"Am I supposed to?" Coriolanus scowls.

"That's Harrison Bramford. His grandfather was one of the main generals back in the days of the war and his family single-handedly leads the weapons manufacturing industry in Panem."

"Hm." is all Coriolanus says in response, the revelation doing little to appease his anger. His left arm rises in a reflex to force more alcohol down his throat, only to find the glass half empty.

"I need another drink." he announces, not caring to hear his friend's response.

Sliding into the bar, he hears your soft laugh and whisper before you disappear into a nearby hallway, leaving your 'date' alone. Out of the corner of Coriolanus' eyes, whilst he leans forwards and pretends to watch the bartender grabbing him another glass of whiskey, he sees the tall dark haired man also beelining towards the bar.

"Vodka on the rocks." Harrison growls, nearly slamming his glass down onto the counter. It's only then that Coriolanus lets himself look into the man's light green eyes, taking care to keep his expression fairly neutral and his voice calm.

"Rough night?" Coriolanus asks, deciding to play the unassuming role of a concerned stranger. Harrison chuckles, wiping his hands on his thighs whilst shaking his head.

"You have no fucking idea. Women are such pieces of work."

The blonde tastes blood with how hard he bites his cheek in an effort to stay silent.

"Your whiskey, sir."

He's grateful for the interruption of the bartender sliding his drink down towards him, as with every word leaving your date's mouth, Coriolanus is feeling his rage boiling and threatening to spill over like toxic waste.

"This chick asked me to come here tonight, you know? Me. A Bramford. I put up with her annoying stories and stupid questions all night, I even held her fucking bag for her to go to the bathroom." the man rants, his skin starting to twinge red with how fast he was speaking. "But will she even let me kiss her? Nooooo. Apparently it's too quick. Wouldn't even let me grab her ass."

It's then that your boyfriend finally loses it, and there's a muted sound of something shattering and the feeling of something sticky and hot running down his right hand. There's a few gasps of shock, the bartender hurrying over with a spare napkin as Coriolanus' blue eyes adjust to the blurry scene in front of him.

He's shattered the glass in his hand.

"Shit, you alright?" Harrison asks, leaning over to see and then pulling back with a disgusted expression after seeing the bloody sight. Remaining calm whilst pulling out the chunks of glass, Coriolanus chooses to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yep. Sorry, not used to..." he pauses, trying to find the right excuse. Instead, he finds a brilliant plan. "Not used to going so long without smoking."

The dark haired man nods in agreement, seemingly sympathizing.

"Ah, I get you. Nasty withdrawal symptoms, huh? Seen a lot of my buddies get them whenever they try to quit smoking."

Securing the makeshift tablecloth wrap around his injured hand, Coriolanus pushes his chair in with his legs, his uninjured hand strategically reaching into his pockets.

"I think I need a cigarette. Care to join?" he asks, already knowing the answer from the overwhelming scent of cigarettes spayed over the man's clothes.

"Why not."

Suppressing a smile, the blonde leads the drunken man out the door and far away from the venue, down a few shady alleyways and into narrow dirty streets crowded by graffiti and trash bags.

"Uh... you sure this is the right way?" the man behind nervously asks, and Coriolanus almost wants to roll his eyes at how pathetic he finds the man's fear.

"Don't worry, Bramford. Just avoiding the 'no smoking' signs and security guards by the venue."

Once the blonde is sure that they're both sufficiently far away from the venue, at a dead end alleyway sandwiched between a run down bike shed and abandoned dumpsters, he stops in his tracks. Coriolanus then uses the split second of confusion felt by the other man to strike him directly in the chest, forcing the taller man's entire body down.

Grabbing the nearest object next to him - a wooden crate- Coriolanus smashes it into bits on the man's head, whose face is now pressed up against the dirty cement.

"You absolute piece of shit." Coriolanus swears, adrenaline pumping through his veins in irregular rhythm as his boot kicks into the pained man's ribs repeatedly. "You disgusting, vile, privileged piece of shit."

Each insult is compounded by a stronger kick, the three glasses of whiskey and pure rage emboldening his thoughts and strengthening his attacks. Coriolanus thinks he may have heard a bone or two cracking, but he isn't sure. He can't even bring himself to care, not when his mind's fixation switches to the enticing sight of a broken glass bottle laying to his right, the jagged scars glistening under the moonlight. Coriolanus snatches it up in half a second, before pressing the edges of the makeshift blade against the whimpering man's throat.

"W-why are you doing this?" Harrison barely gets out, mouth already filled with blood, his gasps stuttered in pain.

The blonde only chuckles, his left knee coming down to press the man further into the ground, right hand beginning to trace the edge of the glass down the man's neck.

"Because, Bramford. You denigrated the love of my life. You dare try and place your filthy hands on her. Hell, for the crimes of your family and your disgusting behavior tonight, I should do the Capitol a favor and ki-"

"That's enough, Corio."

Your boyfriend nearly drops the bottle in his hand out of shock at hearing your voice ring out from behind him, the development so unexpected that for a second he almost wonders if he's hallucinating. But no, when he tilts his head backwards, he sees as clear as day you standing there with an amused grin on your face.

"Darling, I-" Coriolanus begins, stepping back up carefully and setting the glass bottle aside (but far away from Harrison's reach).

You just shush him, that ever-so-understanding twinkle in your eyes, your heels clicking on the uneven cobblestone as you stand with your body right up against his.

"I warned you about this, you know." you sigh. Coriolanus frowns, confused.

"What?"

"That you'd be jealous. He's just a toy, love. Nothing happened nor was ever going to happen tonight." you assure him, taking his uninjured hand in yours and squeezing it in comfort. You frown at the sight of his other bloodied hand, but he waves it off as an explanation for a later time.

"It's not that I don't trust you, petal. It was just... this scumbag was speaking about you in a revolting manner. I just couldn't contain myself." he slowly explains, a mix of guilt for being caught and anger for not being able to finish his actions creeping in. "He deserved it."

"Not denying that, love." you assure him again, smiling. "But goodness... What a mess you've made. You're quite the messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Coriolanus then can only watch, mesmerized, as you walk up next to Harrison's squirming body on the floor. Crouching down next to the man, you tut, as if you're saddened by the sight in front of you.

"Here's what's going to happen. We'll do you the favor of making it looking like you had too many drinks and got robbed. We'll take your wallet and expensive jacket. You'll survive, only a few major injuries but nothing life-threatening, and that's the story you'll tell your father and his friends." you pause, letting out another sigh, as if explaining this whole ordeal is tiring you. "In return, I will keep quiet about your nasty drug addiction to your father. One more strike and you're out, as your daddy said, so let's not aggravate him further. Deal?" you ask, smiling sweetly.

When the man stays silent, only letting out pained breaths in response, your right hand snaps out to press his face further into the concrete.

"I said, do we have a fucking deal, Bramford?"

Coriolanus finds himself completely transfixed by the attractive sight playing out in front of him: your pretty face scrunched up in fury, your delicate fingers dipped in blood as the man beneath you pathetically sobs and agrees. You then smirk, harshly dropping the man's head back down. Your boyfriend is by your side immediately, taking off the man's jacket as you pocket the wallet, your eyes finding Coriolanus' once more.

"I think I'm in love with you." the blonde confesses, the words coming out faster than he'd anticipated. It's a mix of things that causes the sudden confession, the adrenaline from having beaten a man nearly to death, the way your hair is being caressed by the harsh winds, the smell of your sweet perfume mixing with the harsh stench of copper in the air...

It's all making him dizzy and lovesick.

But all you do is roll your shoulders back and chuckle, kissing him quickly on the lips.

"I know."

But, Coriolanus thinks, you can't know - the real depths of his love, the unbridled fire now lapping at his skin, the overwhelming desire to claim you as only his.

And when he finally comes back home, he digs through his cabinets and finds the family ring. Swallowing thickly, he stores it in a small jewelry box and tucks it right underneath his bedroom's windowsill.

One day, he knows. He'll marry you.

----------------------------------------

the final act: "sorry for worrying you."

He'd meant to propose sooner.

He really did.

But then the games happened, his victory came with the assistant position to Dr Gaul and a full ride scholarship to university from the Plinths, and you'd be called away to District 2 to assist on your family's business operations.

Coriolanus missed you, fiercely. No amount of blurry phone calls and monthly visits lasting no more than the short weekend could satisfy his ache for you. Your melodic laugh. Your soft touch. Your witty observations and jokes, your soft breathing on his chest when he'd hold you at night.

But it's necessary, you'd remind him, lips trailing across his cold skin. It was how you and him were going to conquer the Capitol. Together.

On an assuming Tuesday in April, on the day you were due to arrive in time for Tigris' birthday, the phone rang in the mansion. The housekeeper, mid-way through dusting the library in preparation for your arrival, had come running into Coriolanus' room without even knocking. He'd woken up bleary eyed, a few swear words of annoyance on the tip of his tongue, all of which dissipated upon seeing the alarmed look on the housekeeper's face.

"It's for you, sir. Says it's urgent."

Brows furrowing, but not thinking anything much, Coriolanus answers the phone.

"Coriolanus Snow speaking." he mutters into the receiver, eyes still foggy from the remnants of sleep. The voice on the other end chuckles, a dark and pompous sound which makes him scowl in annoyance.

"Mr.Snow... when was Miss (L/n) set to arrive in the Capitol?"

The sinister question jolts the blonde awake immediately, a quick glance at the clock hanging by the door confirming his worst fears. It was four am, at least three hours past the time you were set to arrive.

"Is this a ransom call?" Coriolanus growls into the phone, his fingers clutching the receiver so tight his knuckles were beginning to redden. Teeth aching with how tensely he's clenching his law, his frantic eyes find the housekeeper's worried ones, before he urgently signals for the older woman to fetch the guards roaming the front of the property.

The stranger on the other side only chuckles in response, clearly gleeful at the distressed sound of Coriolanus' voice.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Snow. Would you like to perhaps ask her instead?"

The string of curses and violent threats bubbling under his throat never get spoken when he hears the sudden shuffling of feet and muffled arguing on the other side of the phone, before your voice fills his anxious ears.

"Hi, Corio."

Huh.

You seem awfully relaxed for someone taken as hostage.

Yes, he recalled having numerous discussions with you about such a scenario occurring once Coriolanus' status was elevated in the Capitol and you'd agreed to take on some share of the family business. And your boyfriend also knew that you'd grown up training in archery and fencing, so it wasn't as if you were wholly unprepared to defend yourself.

But still, it shocks him how your voice is completely aloof and calm, with even a hint of a smile at the end of your sentences.

"Hi, darling. Are you alright?" he carefully responds, pondering if you are perhaps being held at gunpoint and forced to speak in an unnatural manner. But you just hum in response, the same noise you'd make if he'd asked you something simple like what you wanted on your toast, nonchalant as ever.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Just don't forget to water the lilies, they get very temperamental this time of the year. Wouldn't want a repeat of last April, now would we?" you joke, and Coriolanus feels himself slightly relaxing into the conversation.

"Of course not."

"And don't forget you promised me pancakes the moment I came back to the house. I've been missing your banana pancakes dearly."

He can almost picture your smile at that comment.

"Well then... you should hurry back soon." he calmly responds, only for the phone to then be ripped away from you and the stranger's voice returns - grating and aggravated. Coriolanus can tell that your kidnapper is frustrated and dumbfounded by your seemingly calm disposition and mundane conversation with your boyfriend, a revelation which fills him with great satisfaction.

"If you still want her alive, leave a suitcase of $20,000 by the coordinates sent to you. You have two hours."

As if on cue, the housekeeper rushes back in with a note - tied to a bird sent over to the house, she says - and the security team behind. Unravelling the coordinates written onto the piece of paper, and looking back at the clock, Coriolanus' mind whirls with endless possibilities.

Explaining the situation in brief, he directs three of the guards to go out into the location with a briefcase loaded with fake cash - one to drop off the bag, the other two to keep extensive watch to see who picks it up. The other two, he commands to stay by watch at the house.

Sitting in an unmarked van whilst staring at the spot where his security guard had placed the suitcase, Coriolanus' leg won't stop bouncing up and down.

He's riddled with anxiety and doubt, hating himself for being unable to protect you, worrying about your whereabouts. As even if you sounded awfully calm and capable on the phone, a part of him can't help but wonder if that was all for show, to prevent him from worrying too much.

A torturous hour passes before Coriolanus gets a call from the housekeeper.

"Sir, she's home."

He nearly drops the phone.

"What?"

"Miss (Y/n) is home. She is sitting in the kitchen, having a cup of tea as we speak."

It's a blur as Coriolanus commands the car to race back towards the house, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he bursts through the doors of the main hallway.

And there, calm as ever with a light grin on your face, is you.

You're sitting in his favorite velvet cushioned chair by the dining table. Your face smeared with blood, your clothes are torn and hanging in loose threads, and your hair is wet, red crimson droplets falling onto the floor in steady drips. And as the sun rises over the estate, the golden light illuminates your hairline and Coriolanus swears he sees a halo above your bloodied form.

"Hi, love. Sorry for worrying you."

Without a single word, he rushes over to you and nearly yanks you up to a standing position, backing you up against the wall to kiss you fiercely. Your knees almost buckle from the force with which he grabs your neck, his shaky breaths so desperate, his hooded eyes still looking into yours as his left hand suddenly shows a ring box in his hand.

"Marry me, darling."

You blink twice, surprised at the sudden action, as he chuckles and laces his fingers with yours - blood on blood.

"We're perfect for each other. You are my soulmate, my perfect pair: body, heart and soul. Truthfully, I've had the ring with me for almost two years now, but it never felt... quite right." he pauses, taking in your shaky, happy smile. Your cold hands warming in his embrace. "Not until now. You're the one for me."

"Even if I bleed all over your kitchen?" you croak, as he slides the cool metal onto your ring finger, before kissing your bruised knuckles.

"Especially if you bleed over my kitchen. As long as it's not your own blood, of course."

It's you who closes the gap this time, nearly tackling him with the force with which you kiss him, arms encircling around his back. Smiling into the kiss, he tastes the mix of your strawberry lipgloss and the metallic hint of blood on your lips, an intoxicating combination.

When you two finally part for air, the silver band now glistening on your ring finger, Coriolanus chuckles.

"Now, would you like those banana pancakes?"

------------------------------------------

epilogue: "nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

"I think I'm starting to see a gray hair. on you, Corio."

Your husband scowls at the playful joke in the bedroom mirror, standing up to straighten his tie as you get changed in the walk-in closet.

"Please, I'm barely 30. Are you sure you're not hallucinating, darling?" he fights back, and you peek out half-dressed from the closet, pouting.

"You're questioning my eyesight now? How could you be so cruel."

Your faux sour expression is quickly kissed away by two cold hands cupping your cheeks, and you would've lost the balance in your heels had he not steadied you immediately, his hands dropping to your waist.

"Aw, I'm sorry, petal. Will you ever forgive me?"

You pretend to think about it, cocking your head sideways.

"That would depend."

"On what?"

"Mom! Dad!"

Your snarky response is cut off by the sound of small feet pattering on the marble floor, the front doors swinging open as a small figure runs straight to you and crashes into your legs. A spitting image of you and Coriolanus, your daughter, looks up from your knees before grasping onto her father's hand.

"Up, please."

Clearly amused by the sudden burst of energy in the room and his daughter's politeness even in moments of silliness, he crouches down and picks up the squealing child who comfortably settles into his arms.

"Guess what."

"What is it, honey?" you ask, brushing the stray hair out of her eyes.

"I got the highest score in my entire class on my math test."

"Wow, that's incredible, sweetheart." Coriolanus practically melts on the spot, bouncing the child up and down as she giggles into his neck. "You are the smartest person ever, Belle."

"Not as smart as mommy." she sasses in response, looking up at you for approval. You coo, ruffling her hair affectionately before looking up at your husband with raised eyebrows.

"See, Corio? Even our daughter is kinder to me than you are."

He rolls his eyes in response, left hand sneaking out to pull you in close as his lips kiss the top of your head.

"Nonsense. I love both my girls equally." he says, only for the picture perfect moment to be interrupted by another figure rushing into the room.

"Mrs Snow, the car's just arrived for you by the fr-" the intern freezes in his steps, having clearly caught the Snow family at a private time. You of course don't mind, just being amused by the situation, and your daughter is just curious at the new person who just walked in. All the while, Coriolanus' reaction couldn't be more different, his glare sharp and mean.

"I thought I made it clear, I don't want to ever be disturbed when I'm with my family. Unless it's an absolute emergency." Coriolanus states, his tone icy and unforgiving.

By the furrowing of his eyebrows and the cold stare in his eyes, you can already anticipate the flurry of murderous thoughts filling his head before you cut in. After all, the interrupting intern, a 17 year old boy by the name of Elijah, is only trying his best. And you find him oddly endearing and sweet, particularly with how badly he tries to impress your husband.

"It's fine, Elijah. Please ignore my husband's rude comment. I'll be right out."

Setting your daughter down, Coriolanus leans forward and growls into your ear, watching the young boy scatter away quickly.

"You're too nice to him, darling. Don't you think we should dispose of him and get a new intern...."

You slap his shoulder.

"What do I always tell you? No need to create unnecessary messes. Besides, he's really good with Belle and easy to control."

He smirks at that, irises filled pink.

"You're probably right. Can't have another bloody mess on your hands to clean up."

"Or vice versa."

He leans in close, cold lips touching your forehead.

"Nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

And he truly means it.

a/n: andddd that's another major Corio fic down! thank you to everyone who showed me love on my last Corio oneshot ("melting snow") and for those who answered my poll - dark soft! and possessive Corio won out but girldad!Corio also got a TON of love so I included it a bit here and will probably write a whole standalone fic with girldad!Corio as the concept. thank you again to everyone for remaining patient, I had writer's block for a bit and I've just had the most awful few weeks ever (mental health wise and life wise) so it was difficult to find moments to write.

as always, please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you enjoyed. the interactions is what motivates me to write! I hope you liked it hehe x

[damagdsnow]

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look reliable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal. 

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play. eventual: smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praising public sex

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, eventual: mention of blood

Word count: 6.7k

Note: English is not my first language so if you see mistakes please feel free to correct me in the comments! It is also my very first time posting here on tumblr, I’ve always wanted to post my writing and finally I am now brave enough to do so, enjoy!

You hated that man. 

If there was something you were sure about, it was that you didn’t want to be here with him, at the same table having lunch. You could feel his perking blue eyes staring into your soul even though he was not looking at you, he was meticulously cutting an apple with his long fingers and a shiny knife.

How did you get here? The man you so wholeheartedly hated, was now part of your life, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt like that apple he was cutting so carefully, peeling your skin, your essence, the way he was holding it seemed he was scared it could run away. You could run away. 

The problem was, you would never run away. Run away to whom? To your mother who disclaimed you? To those friends who didn’t help you out? You had no choice. Now the only thing you had was your reputation ruined for a fatal mistake that could have been avoided. That was not enough, the only way to clean your image was to be with Snow. The charismatic, intelligent and kind Coriolanus Snow. Or this was what people said about him. What The Capitol said about him.

You didn’t think the same. You knew who he really was, you saw what they couldn't see. He was evil, he was the one who got the games so popular with his ideas, the one who didn’t mind sending children to death.

You and Coriolanus had only one thing in common. Maybe two or three. One of them was that you both needed each other’s influence in society for different interests. His strategy to win the elections included a woman by his side to make him look reliable and sensitive, but he mostly planned on taking advantage of your popularity to make his own name. You, on the other hand, just needed someone who could clean your reputation after a little incident.

Who better than the master manipulator Coriolanus Snow? You weren’t thrilled with the idea of spending time with him. But it was going to be just for once. The gala before the official beginning of presidential elections, the most awaited event in the Capitol.

The agreement was playing the part of two lovers who not by chance people already knew, his name was well known. Yours? Still on the news. It was just a ball, you could do a night of pretending. 

 “Tigris said you haven't tried your dress on yet,” his voice interrupted your thoughts, and you looked in his direction to see his expression. 

He still had the apple in his hands and he was cutting it in half-moon shapes, he took one bite in his mouth and he directly stared at you while chewing. You tried to hide your disgust as Snow's eyes met yours, his smile sending chills down your spine. It was as you had imagined, or even worse, you felt his blue eyes dissecting you in pieces, like he was examining you, looking for your deepest secrets. You knew that staying calm and composed in his presence was crucial. 

“I don’t want to, it fits me.” You didn’t even look at that dress, it was even sent to your house but you refused to open the box knowing that he chose it.

“I hope it will,” Coriolanus didn’t take his eyes off of yours. “At least try to read how you should answer the questions, many people will be there,” he then said while standing up from his chair. His tall frame loomed over you, and you couldn't help but shiver under his intense gaze. 

“Are you giving me homework to do now?” you said, looking up at him.

“I’m simply providing you with some advice,” his voice tinged with subtle amusement. “Oh, you think it’s going to be simple after all you did? “The Capitol won’t forgive you easily,” then he walked away, leaving you alone in the dining room. 

This day felt longer than ever. The morning before you had received a letter from Snow’s manor telling you that someone was going to pick you up to prepare you for the event. It was signed by his publicist, Iris. You met her a couple of times before: a well dressed woman who knew too much about anyone's business in the Capitol. It was her idea to have lunch with him, “just to get to know each other more,” she said, but for you it was just a reminder of his real personality. They even gave you a room for the day, two chambers away from his, quoting Iris’s letter “this way you can feel comfortable,” you thought she was too attentive and kind to work for someone like Snow.

Iris was the one convincing you to take part in this gala, she explained to you that someone cherished like Coriolanus would draw the attention away from the scandal. You two just had to pretend to be together, “the Capitol loves unexpected new couples,” the publisher said to you the first time you saw her, “the young aspiring president and the woman everybody talks about.” Iris was convinced that this way Coriolanus was seen as the devoted partner who wasn’t afraid of your bad reputation, and you as the woman ready to rise from the ashes. 

You ran into your room and slammed the door so loud you hoped he could hear you. You found a big envelope on your bedsheets, and you hoped it was some sort of -hey remember the incident? It’s not your fault, everything it’s okay!-thing, but unfortunately, it was not a free pass to the world. It was a sheet listing all possible answers to some questions you might be asked today at the gala. It was like a script to follow to save your face, to look good in front of the cameras, in front of the-very-judging-elitè. In that sheet, you could find any imaginable question they could ask, where your dress was from or who your family were. 

“Did you do that on purpose?” It was one of the questions, and you thought this was something Snow would ask you. He didn’t say a thing about what you did, in the few times you talked he never asked you directly about the scandal. He could have wanted explanations, the real version of the story from you, but he never said a word. You read the answers on the sheet, and they were all perfectly written, so meticulously explained using the Capitol-vocabulary, elegant words and a candid tone. 

“How did you meet Mr. Snow?” Your heart skipped a beat, you didn’t consider being asked about your fake relationship with him, it was all new to you.

 “…it was love at first sight, who couldn’t love an extraordinary man like him, I immediately fell in love.” You had to read the full answer twice to be certain you weren’t hallucinating. 

You would never have said those words, never in a billion years, not even under torture, of course you were ready to lie, but lying to this level? It was too much. You knew it was him who wrote this answer, you imagined the grin on his face while typing those words about him. You were mad. The answers about your dating life with Coriolanus were filled with romantic moments and exaggerated gestures that made you feel uncomfortable reading their unrealistic nature. You tried imagining those things happening in real life, but it felt completely alien and artificial. It was difficult to believe that anyone could genuinely experience those events. With Coriolanus mostly. You read the pages, over and over, a book would have been better because there was too much to read, but instead, you were stuck with a bunch of printed documents detailing your supposed love story. 

He also put dates on when things happened: your first date in the lake house in July, the time you had dinner in a fancy restaurant in August and the day you moved in his place. Lies. Lies. Lies. Apparently you officially started dating three months ago. Three? You scrolled over the pages, hoping not to read what you were thinking. 

“…after the incident, Coryo was very supportive, always there to comfort and reassure me even though all I did. I felt like I betrayed him too, but he always said we could get through it together, and I found myself falling for him all over again.” You knew none of this ever happened, and yet here it was, staring back at you in black and white. It was as if the words were playing tricks, as if the words were there to pretend instead of simply put on paper.

You sighed and closed the file, feeling a mix of frustration, confusion, and irritation. He was never there for you. Nobody was. You were all alone. After that day, you cried every night, and you were the one reassuring yourself, lying in front of the mirror saying ‘it’s going to be okay’ while your sense of guilt was slowly eating your guts. He wanted to appear like the perfect partner, but you knew the truth. It was all a façade. Deep down, you knew the real him, and it took all your strength to acknowledge the reality. You threw the stack of files on the floor, it was all too much. 

You got up from the bed, and you went directly to his room, determined to confront him about the distorted reality that had been painted in those files. You didn’t even knock on his door, and you felt surprised when you noticed it wasn’t locked. You open the door, and you close it from behind, entering the room. He was standing close to his bed, completely oblivious to your presence. It was like he expected you to burst into his room out of nowhere.

“You finally read the file,” he said, looking at his wrist without making eye contact. 

He was focusing on buttoning his cuff links, his fingers fumbling with the buttons, his white shirt still open and his blonde hair wet from the shower. His normally confident demeanor was replaced with vulnerability as he waited for your response, the tension thick in the air. It was the very first time you saw him not perfectly dressed up, without styled hair and shiny shoes. The sight of him standing there, so different from his usual self, caught you off guard.

“Yes, I’ve read your fabricated tale,” you said, trying not to look at him, at the droplets of water sliding down his temple, his fingers still struggling with the shirt. “You should have become a fiction book writer, you got talent.” 

"I just wanted to impress you," he admitted, finally looking up to meet your gaze. “I can see I got a reaction from you,” he definitely succeeded in catching your attention, with those iper-articulated lies, not even close to what really happened.

“The agreement was that I won't say anything bad about you, just be by your side as a trophy-fake-girlfriend in this stupid gala, inventing absurd stories won't win my reputation back," you said firmly, crossing your arms. 

He reached his desk where there was a glass of some alcohol sloshing around, poured himself a drink and took a long, deep swig. “They won't believe you if you only stand by me like a mannequin, you have to be an active member of their social life, so they can get to know you, sympathize you and maybe forgive you,” he said in a calm tone, you could see his profile while he was again drinking from his glass, his shirt still open that showed his toned body.

You immediately looked away taking a deep breath. “I won't be a part of any false narrative you wrote,” was the only thing that came to your mind. 

He scoffed his head, “Just for the period of the presidential campaign, nothing more.” 

“Are you suggesting that this ridiculous act is going to take longer than just a day?” 

“I know you don’t like me, you just need to pretend you do. I’ll do the same,” he took another sip of that liquor while looking at you, “the publicist said just one appearance at the gala isn’t going to be beneficial to either of us.”

“Why are you telling me this now? The plan was slightly different,” you said

“Oh I knew you were going to be reluctant about the idea of pretending to live here, just for show,” he was serious, his fierce eyes looking at you waiting for a reply.

“I almost tolerated your presence at work, and now you want me to live in the same house as yours?” You asked 

“After the gala, they are going to focus on the ‘new couple’, our performance has to be something they really believe in,” he leaned his head at the same height as yours, “we already don’t have that chemistry, at least they are going to think we live together,” Coriolanus said to your ear, his curls brushing your cheek. 

“I simply decline your proposal, find someone else.” You said with a fake smile.

“Didn’t journalists harass you every time you left your little apartment? How exhausting, isn’t it?” He whispered in a sarcastic tone, making you remember all those times you ran away from photographers. “I got peacekeepers here, no one is going to bother you anymore, as long as you don’t bother me,” he turned to the desk, placing the empty glass in a tray, “strangers in real life, lovers on the outside.” 

“The problem is that I despise you, I cannot do this for one more day,” you couldn’t see his expression,  just his white see-through shirt displaying his back muscles.

“No, the problem is that you don’t understand how fucked up your situation is,” he was now facing you, “I know people who were condemned for way less, you are lucky,” his words were sharp as blades.

“Lucky to have you? It’s a punishment,” you said and he laughed. 

“Then don’t come at me crying at why people still hate you,” he took a few steps closer to you

 “So you can comfort me like you did a month ago?” You asked him pointing out the most absurd lie in that file.

“Oh, so you read every single page, you really did your homework.”

You stood your ground, refusing to be manipulated any longer. He was doing that purposely, just to provoke you, saying those things just to see how far you could take. Coriolanus was looking at you with his piercing gaze, attempting to intimidate you, he expected you to buckle down and crumble in front of him, but you would never give him such satisfaction, you were already in hell, so why not play with fire? 

“Why me?” you asked him, and you saw a sense of surprise in his eyes. “Why, of all the girls in Panem, you decide the only one who can give you trouble?” You took a step closer to his figure, “there are so many good girls from rich families and intact reputations, why me? I’ll just ruin you.” You said, trying to catch his eyes looking back at you. But you could only see his frowning eyebrows, his wet messy hair and a droplet of water trailing down his neck, you were so close to him, you could hear him breathing.

“Everybody knows your name, bad press is still press,” his eyes finally met yours. “You are the center of attention,” he took a step back, as if momentarily distancing himself from the tension. “The presidential elections are extremely competitive, it’s not a race for who’s superior to whom,” he licked his lips, “but who is going to perform better for these people looking for distractions. “We are going to be their little show”

“So tell me Coriolanus,” you stepped closer as you were before. The height difference was such that it made you look up at him, you took one side of his shirt in your hand and you buttoned up with the other, feeling his warm torso on your fingers. "How exactly do you propose to fix my reputation while bolstering your own?” you finished, a sly smile dancing on your lips and your eyes looking for him. 

Coriolanus was looking down at your fingers still brushing his skin, he had his lips parted and he softly whispered, “just play the game,” his eyes still fixed on you. He was talking about making everything right again, but it felt like there was something more behind those words. 

You stepped back, trying to compose yourself. “I’m just giving them another reason to hate me with this bunch of lies,” you were looking down at the floor when you heard him stepping closer to you. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes on your face. 

He lifted your chin with two fingers and made you look up at him, “I’ll make them fall for our lie,” he said, his voice was so deep and calm.

 “You are a master manipulator,” you whispered back, looking down again as if the floor was more interesting than the man standing in front of you. 

You heard him chuckle, and he leaned closer to your ear, “and I’m going to teach you how to be one too.”

Your first public appearance after the scandal was going to be at this gala. Everything was calculated in detail, the dress you wore had to be long and white, as pure as snow. Your hair had to be loose so it could cover your exposed back, and apparently you had to memorize pages and pages of answers you could give. After your intense conversation in his room you decided to play the game seeing how far you could take, how far you would do to take everything back. He wanted you under his spell, he was trying to shape you how he desired, for his own interests. 

“Dear, why aren’t you dressed yet?” The publicist said to you while you were sitting on the smooth sheets of your bed. You had your bathrobe still on, it’s been thirty minutes since you had a shower but you had your head in the clouds. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation with Coriolanus, his wet hair, the words he said to you, his naked torso, his manipulating eyes. You repeat to yourself that he was Coriolanus Snow, and not any man, he probably told you half the strategy he really had in mind. Being with him was like playing chess blindfolded, you had to trust him but he could mess up your moves, change your plans.

“Come here I’ll help you,” Iris said, she seemed like a good person, she had a comforting smile and an elegant manner with everything she did. She was wearing a short coppery-brown color dress, it was shiny as her nails, decorated with tiny gold stones. You took her hand and you stood up, making the bathrobe fall on the carpet. The silk of the dress soothed your skin like a petal, you looked at the mirror and the weak light coming from your window gently reflected on your bright dress, almost making it shine. 

“It is really pretty,” you said astonished while turning to see your exposed back. Then your smile disappeared because you remembered it was him who picked the dress. 

 “You are making it pretty, my darling,” Iris stated as she fastened the zip on your side. It was a simple dress yet delicate and impressive, it embraced the shape of your body effortlessly. 

“It is just a little loose here on your waist,” the woman said, touching the excess fabric on your side. You remembered the conversation early this morning when you proudly said the dress fitted you.

“I’m going to tell Tigris to fix it,” Iris said and you immediately looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“No please,” she changed her expression, “it is bad luck to mend a dress the same day it is worn,” your mother always said that to you, maybe it was not a popular saying considering the publicist's face.

 She tilted her head with a confused smile as she touched the yellow-butterflies-clip in her voluminous red wig. Now that you were thinking about it, you sewed your skirt the day it happened, ‘it’s just a coincidence, I don’t believe in these things’ you said to yourself, you were not superstitious but at the same time you avoided superstitions, just in case.

 “Whatever you want,” Iris said with a soft smile. 

  You touched your neck and you thought how a shiny pendant would look good. “Iris, do we have some necklace to match this dress?” She stepped closer to you looking at your chest. 

“I think you shouldn’t wear any jewelry tonight,” you tilted your head in confusion, “see, today is your first appearance after the,” she paused, “incident.”

“And what is it supposed to do with jewe—“ she didn’t let you finish your sentence.

“You could wear pearls or diamonds but what would the elite think? That you want to appear, that you want to show off,” she walked behind you so you could see her reflection in the mirror. “How you present yourself is the way they perceive you,” Iris brushed your long hair on the side, exposing your neck, “you are wearing a white dress, ‘how pure!’ No diamonds, ‘how modest!’ “try to think like the socialites, once you enter their minds, your act will get a standing ovation”. Her words put everything in a different perspective, she really knew what she was doing. 

You heard a knock on the door, “the party starts in an hour!” A muffled voice said from the corridor.

“Thank you Ariandes, we’re almost done!” Iris said in a loud tone. 

In less than sixty minutes you had to put on your best mask and try to change the mind of a thousand people about yourself, with Coriolanus by your side, pretending he is your supportive lover. You felt a rush of anxiety on your chest, like a weight pressing against your heart.

“I don’t think I can go,” you whispered with a trembling voice. Iris made a worried look.

“Oh sweety, I can only imagine what you have been through,” she took a lilac glass flask from the desk beside the mirror, “you are a strong woman,” she sprayed a lavender fragrance on your neck and she smiled. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and with all your strength you tried to keep the tears that threatened to spill over. “Iris, how do I fake being so interested in someone?” You asked, thinking about what was written in that file. 

“Have you ever been in love?” She asked with a soft gaze.

You didn’t know the answer to that question, you had a couple of boyfriends in your university years, but were you in love? 

“It’s when every atom of your body's only desire is to burn at the mere thought of being with that someone,” Iris looked up, like she was thinking of somebody, you felt even more disoriented with her answer. 

You couldn’t identify that feeling with anyone, you’ve never met someone that made ‘your cells burn’. What would that even mean, you thought.

 The door opened and you turned your head to see Ariandes, the political advisor, “We gotta go,” he said looking at Iris. The man had his hair pulled back in a long braid, dark as his skin. You walked in his direction and you followed him.

The moment you stepped into the car you felt a sudden tension, it was dark outside, only one side of Coriolanus’ face was lit up by cars passing by. He was wearing a red coat that covered the rest of the outfit, his blonde locks were lightly falling on his temples and you noticed he was wearing a ring on his left index finger.

 “Act as natural as possible,” Coriolanus said and he looked at you, it felt like he was inspecting your body and you wished to be in his mind at that very moment.

 Was everything going according to plan? 

No, you didn’t want to know what it was like to be in his head, it was torturing enough being on the outside. 

“I’m not very good at lying,”

‘not as good as you’, you wanted to say. 

He looked at you like he read your mind, luckily you couldn’t see his expression. “Don’t be impulsive, smile and never leave my side,” you felt he was giving you orders, “what 's going to happen at the political campaign depends partially on today’s gala.”

 “You know, Mr. Snow,” you started “I tried reading your fiction-book but it was so,” you tried examining his face, “unrealistic,” he scoffed and looked the other way, “you want me to paint you as the man you aren’t and never will —caring, affectionate and respectful “I can’t do miracles, people won’t believe my lies forever.”

Coriolanus clenched his jaw, “at least the whole Panem doesn’t hate me,” he said close to your face.

“Yet,” you added, hoping to maintain eye contact one more second. 

“And just a reminder,” he said, “without me you would have been at home, crying and begging for forgiveness,” he whispered in a bitter tone in your ear.

 “And without me you wouldn’t have the attention you crave so much,” you replied, feeling the tension in the air. 

Coriolanus was too close to you, like an animal before hunting his prey, you could see his facial features reflecting the weak light outside. The engine stopped, and the driver opened the car door.

“Mr. Snow” he said and Coriolanus stepped out of the car, he didn’t even look at you. 

‘He would slam the door in my face if he could’, you thought.

 You took the driver’s hand, helping you get out with your long dress. Coriolanus took his maroon coat off and he gave it to an avox at the entrance. You could see him from his back, he was wearing an ivory jacket and trousers, his suit matched your gown. He calculated every single detail. Unexpectedly, Coriolanus waited for you as you stood by him in the hall, he extended his arm and you looked at him. 

“Do I have to?” You asked and you noticed a white rose on his breast pocket. 

“It’s just an act,” he replied and you took him by the arm. 

Let the play begin. 

The ballroom was lit by magnificent chandeliers and the air was filled with whispers and laughter. The atmosphere was comforting and energetic: people with colorful wigs, glitter dresses and sugary drinks. There was not a face you could recognise, it was not what you were used to, even though you have been living in the Capitol for all your life, you’ve never experienced a party like this. You walked through the crowd with Coriolanus by your side, arm by arm, while everybody was looking curiously at your direction. You’ve heard someone saying his name, and something about the girl he was walking with. 

Why her? Since when does Snow have a girlfriend? I’ve heard really bad things about that woman.

And there it was, the gossip, the uncertain glances and how they looked down on you. On the other hand, people were praising him. 

He’s so charming! White suits him well! Future president of Panem. 

You looked at Coriolanus, the warm light was making his eyes brighter, or was it the crowd? He looked at them so proudly, with a confident smile, he was living for that moment, being the center of attention. He met your gaze, then his blue eyes looked at your dress, but not the same way people did. 

It felt different. 

Was he judging? 

Admiring maybe? It was a mystery, nothing was black or white with him. 

Coriolanus greeted a couple of his acquaintances, introducing you as his partner, then calling you his date and it once slipped from his lips calling you his girlfriend. And you actually were, in that moment, you had to act as his beloved girlfriend who had a well known bad reputation. He never let your arm go away, he was acting so well, playing the caring boyfriend who couldn’t leave you alone. 

“Here they are, the couple of the night!” A loud voice came from behind, it was Flavius Windbuzz, one of the most famous tv hosts in the Capitol. His voice was recognisable from miles away, it didn’t matter if you watched television or not, he was everywhere and it was impossible in Capitol City not knowing his name. 

He stepped closer to you with a glowing smile and a glitter microphone, he had his hair gray, more like silver. “Everybody is talking about you, the new Capitol lovebirds,” a camera was pointing at you and your heartbeat was getting faster, everyone stopped talking and stared at you both. “So tell me Mr. Snow, who is this young lady you are showing off?” 

“You said it right Flavius, she is my girlfriend,” he did it again, Coriolanus said girlfriend, this time broadcast on tv. 

“What a pleasure to meet you,” the host said to you, he took your hand and kissed it. These exaggerated gestures were the usual in this type of parties, especially where a silver-haired-man was interviewing the guests. He asked about your family, if you liked the food —you didn’t touch any but you lied, and who was the designer of your dress, everything as the script said.

  “Honey, you are a really interesting woman but I have to ask you something,” Mr. Windbuzz said, “people are talking and it is my job to satisfy their desires. “So tell me, are the rumors true?” 

You expected a much worse question, you stopped breathing for a moment and Coriolanus noticed that because you tightened the grip on his arm. “You tell me Flavius, what do the rumors say?” You answered with a soft smile hiding your discomfort.

  “I know that during the last edition of The Hunger Games, something really unfortunate happened,” you noticed he had purple contacts on, and that was something that made you even more nervous. “Is it true that you took part in the incident we all saw live on TV?” He asked and you felt like your heart was beating outside your chest.

“It is true,” the crowd gasped, and your pulse increased. 

“So tell me, how did it feel when you killed those poor and innocent tributes?” The question was worded differently than what you read on that file. 

Killed. 

Poor and innocent. 

You couldn’t get out of your head their lifeless faces, the foam coming out of their mouths and the sound of the cannon echoing in that room. The hall started spinning, you saw the interviewer’s face, a mix of compassion and concern, as the crowd started whispering more and more you felt your head cold and heavy. The microphone was pointing in your direction but you could not even stutter a syllable, blank pages wandered in your mind and you felt a sense of emptiness. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned your dizzy head to see Coriolanus who started talking for you.

“She was more than devastated, I remember—, ” you saw his lips moving like the time had slowed down and you were not listening to his words, his voice echoed in your ears as you never took your eyes off of him. 

His grip on your shoulder tightened and his eyes looked at you as he tilted his head suggesting you both could go away. You followed him even though your ears were still ringing and your sight blurring, Coriolanus was walking too fast so you took his hand in yours or you could really faint on the ground. At that action, he looked at you with a confused stare, his hand grip was firm and steady as he dragged you in the bathroom. After checking no one was in there, he leaned against the door so no one could step in. You stood in front of him, his curls falling on his forehead that was a little sweaty, then he began talking, but the sound of his words were just an intense ring in your ears. He placed both his hands on your cheeks trying to have your attention, and you woke up from your hypnotic state.

“They are just hypocrites, they are the ones who watch The Hunger Games on tv, they send money to help their favorite to kill.” Coriolanus said looking in your eyes, and you started sobbing. “They are not better than you, “stop crying and play their game.” 

You felt the warmth of his hands on your skin, he never touched you this way, it was intimate, nothing you could expect from him. For a moment, you brushed your hand with his but he instantly removed it, walking away from your sight. 

“He was too indiscreet,” you heard him whisper, “I should’ve expected that from him.” 

“No Coriolanus, I should’ve expected this question,” your voice was still trembling, “you said it wasn’t going to be easy, I deserve this, “do you still think this act is a good idea?” You asked him. 

His tall figure leaned against the green tiles of the bathroom, he had his hands on his pockets and he was looking down, thinking about who knows what. Now that you were seeing from a distance, he resembled an angel. His white suit, his blonde curls and the perking blue eyes. No, there was nothing pure and heavenly in him. You thought he was probably thinking about how you ruined his plan, how he had to intervene to save your umpteenth failure and he was now calculating another strategy. 

‘Not an angel, a fallen angel, the next Lucifer of Panem.’

 “The night is still young,” he said while stepping to the door. He didn’t answer your question, was he regretting meeting you? 

Everything was as you left it. The party was still going and no one seemed to have noticed your panic attack. That was a relief. You tried distracting yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened before. The interview, the crying, his hands on your face. Everything was worse than you had expected. You and Coriolanus were in the hallway next to the massive columns that supported the ceilings, on the other side people were dancing to a classical melody. You wanted to stay there, outside their sight, because to you the dance floor was more like an arena where people were going to attack you. 

“Shall we?” Coriolanus extended his hand suggesting to go dancing with him. 

“I’m not good at dancing, I could step on your feet,” you hoped it would’ve been enough for him to give up. 

“I’ll take the risk.” That was his plan, acting like nothing happened and putting his best smile on to be the charming man everyone adored. 

You took his hand, the same hand that wiped your tears off your face was now intertwined in yours. Every time you looked for an excuse to not like him. As if you had to remind yourself that you hated him. Did you? He was dancing with you so naturally, holding you like you had known each other for a very long time, his hand on your waist as if he was used to it. There was nothing evil in him on the outside, and that was the problem. 

“I’ve just saved your face, thank me later.” 

You rolled your eyes at Coriolanus’ words. “I’m used to humiliations so next time don’t bother yourself.” you replied.

“Oh but I’m not used to it and don’t worry, there will be no next time.” Without a notice, he made you twirl around.

“When will this thing end?” You asked annoyed.

 “I hate it as much as you,” he pushed your waist closer to him, this way you were face to face, noses touching. 

“What the fuck Coriol—,” 

He interrupted you, “for the cameras.” 

You turned your head and you saw a bunch of flashes, blinding your sight. Coriolanus leaned over you and your lips were brushing, you couldn’t push him away because of the photographers. You had no time to tell him something, that he kissed you. It was for a second, just one second where your lips touched. It was cold, dry and unexpected. Just like him. Snow by name, snow by nature. If only eyes could talk. You’d probably say to him how you wished you weren’t there, with him, and you wondered what his blue eyes would say to you, probably the same. After that moment, Coriolanus didn’t say a word to you. You were there, smiling at photographers hoping to drop your mask as soon as they’d left. 

The rest of the night went according to plan. Flavius interviewed all the future candidates and Coriolanus had the opportunity to make his well prepared speech, he also got invitations from influential members close to the president Ravinstill, not to mention the many sponsor offers he had. At least something was going well, for him though. The ride back home was painful. You and Coriolanus were looking outside the window, his crimson coat was the only barrier separating your bodies. 

“Did they ever tell you how bad you are at kissing,” you hated silence so much you could say the stupidest things that came to mind just not to hear your thoughts. You turned your head to see him and his eyes were already on you. 

“Mhm, girls usually compliment me for other qualities,” he chuckled, “and then that wasn’t me kissing, remember it’s just for show,” he whispered looking at the driver hoping he wasn’t paying attention.

“Well, no one believed your poor attempt to look in love,” you said and he untied the knot of his white tie. 

“I was caught off guard,” he said looking at you, cars speeding in the window behind him, “and I can’t just kiss how I would normally do.” 

You tried not to laugh at his words, ‘what would that even mean?’ you thought. “Just try to convince them, because you didn’t even convince me.” 

“How should I kiss you then?”

He put his hand on the back of your head, with his thumb brushed your temple and he pulled you closer, his lips touching yours softly. You knew what was going to happen, but you let him do it. 

The way he kissed you, like he was starving for your lips, hungry for your taste. Was he the same man that kissed you before? You melted in his touch, his hand slided down your neck, his fingers pressing on your throat, making you shiver even more. He tasted like mint and posca, his hair smelled of roses and his skin was warm under your touch.

 Coriolanus pulled away from your lips but you came closer to cut the gap separating you. It felt like an instinct, like you were not satisfied enough and you could feel a sense of heat down your core. He pulled away the coat that was between you and his other hand was now on your exposed back, keeping you closer, his tongue still dancing dangerously with yours as you intertwined your fingers in his locks.

“Coryo” you said between kisses.

He wasn’t intending to stop and neither did you, but you remembered who was the man who was holding you that way, whose hands were making you shiver, whose lips were making you want for more and what nickname you just whined. 

“I think we should,” you managed to say, trying to stop yourself from doing something you were going to regret. You broke the kiss, his lips were swollen still too close to yours. 

He whispered, "I told you, I can be convincing when needed.”    

🦋 A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, let me know what you think in the comments! I’ll probably explain the details of the scandal and how they met next time, it’s way more than you can imagine from here. Also I KNOW there is no smut here, but bear with me, it's a slow burn and trust me in the next chapter I’ll add some ✨ spice ✨. In this first chapter I wanted to set up the atmosphere.

A special thanks to Freddie Mercury and the song “Play the game” that helped me when I was stuck, to the poet Taylor Swift who reminded me of the many ways you can say the color red. PLEASE let me know if you want to be tagged next time 💌 

ask me questions here !

@gracieghost36955 @annavatar @ghostlyloversworld @badbussylol @gracieroxzy @coolcatyarb @coriosgf @xxrougefangxx @devils-blackrose @wearemadeofstardust0

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

I'm sorry in advance for murdering your feels with this sad, angsty, heartbreaking story.

Anyways....have fun reading

Heartless

Pt 1

You loved your boyfriend, Coriolanus. Maybe you even loved him too much. So when you discovered the truth about him…

Well…it devastated you.

It broke your heart into a million pieces.

On the day that you made a life changing discovery, one that was supposed to be happy, you got a reality check that gave you whiplash so hard that you didn't know what was what anymore.

After your doctor's appointment you went home to the penthouse that you shared with Coriolanus and his grandmother, Grandma’am. His cousin, Tigris, had moved out a little while back; she lives in a condo above her boutique now.

When you entered the penthouse, you saw that Ma Plinth was sitting, waiting for you, with a little platter of ginger cookies on the glass coffee table. “How was your appointment? I hope you're feeling better.” The mother of your late friend, Sejanus, warmly remarked.

“My appointment went well; I'm feeling better now too.” You kindly smiled at the middle-aged woman who reminded you so much of her son with her kind smile. “Thank you for watching Grandma’am. Coriolanus doesn't like her to be alone too much and I just had to get to my appointment.” You gratefully told her while making your way over to the coffee table to grab a cookie.

Ma Plinth stood up, only to gesture to a brown paper wrapped package on the table. “A package arrived while you were gone.”

You grabbed a cookie.l, taking a small nibble off it. “Oh, thank you for bringing it in. I'll put it in Coryo's study for him.”

“Oh, Y/N, it's not for him. It's addressed to you.” The dark-haired woman informed you before waving goodbye and showing herself out.

You had a package?That's odd. You never get packages or mail in general.

Everything gets sent to Coriolanus since he has all the bills and the house registered under his name.

You were curious about the package, so you put your cookie down on the tray and picked up the brown parcel.

You read your name and address on the package, but the space for a return address was left blank. You thought that was odd, but shrugged it off.

Curiosity got the better of you; you opened the parcel only to find a letter and a tape. An audio tape.

You unfolded the letter and read it.

Miss Halvir,

I'm writing you this letter because your dear Mr. Snow is not the man you believe him to be.

He is not a man that takes his…say…oaths and promises seriously. He is a heartless man incapable of feelings.

Most of all love. I know you believe him to love you, but listen to me when I say, my dear, that he does not in fact love you.

Coriolanus Snow is cut from the same cloth as his father. A cold, callous man that sees order as a way to balance the wildness of the world.

He sees all the world as an arena with two types of people in it.

Victors and the unfortunate souls that are not strong enough to survive and become a victor.

You, girl, are no victor, but he is.

Coriolanus Snow is.

And he will do anything to get ahead in this world. Including selling out his only friend. His best friend. One Sejanus Plinth.

In this package I have placed a copy of the recording that was played during Private Plinth’s date with the noose. Please listen to it in private.

It will shed some light on the man you falsely believe to love you.

I would hate for something to happen to you, like it did poor Sejanus Plinth, because of misplaced trust in one Coriolanus Snow.

Your hands shook as you put the letter down.

I'mYou couldn't believe what you just read.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be.

You worried your bottom lip, turning the small audio tape over and over in your hand. You were scared to hear what was on it.

But you knew that you had to listen to it. So, you went over to the stereo, but it in, and pressed play.

What you heard on that tape made your heart stop. Every word exchanged between Sejanus and Coryo made you sick. The dead boy trusted the blonde, only to be secretly recorded and betrayed by him.

It was too much to handle.

If Coriolanus could do that to sweet Sejanus then what could he do to you?

You knew what you had to do. You couldn't stay with him; you had to pack your bags and go back to your mother's apartment. At least you'd be safe back home with your mother; safety's all that matters right now.

You can ignore that shattering pain of your heart breaking as long as your safe.

“Darling, I made reservations for dinner tonight at the Capitol Grille for 7.” You heard Coriolanus call out to you from the foyer as you finished packing the last of your things in your bags.

Well, the Capitol Grille was a very high end steak house where the menus didn't have price tags printed on them. It was also a place that you needed to put in a reservation ahead of time; somebody just couldn't walk in or call same day to get a table.

People waited weeks, sometimes even months for a table. Hmph, and knowing that Coryo's using Strabo Plinth’s money to snag a table and eat a 3 course meal that cost more then most people's pay in the districts disgusted you.

Oh god. The way he got the Plinths family fortune made you want to run away from him and never look back.

Main reason why you were zipping up your bag whenever Coriolanus entered you- no his bedroom.

“Darling why don't you wear-” He began to say, only to stop mid sentence and ask, “Going somewhere?”

“Yea.” You nodded. “I'm moving back in with my mother.” You looked up from your bag, only to see the platinum blonde arching a puzzled brow at you.

“Why're you going down to the 8th floor? Is she sick” Coriolanus couldn't help, but think that all your mother's chain smoking had finally gotten to her.

Yes, Coriolanus smokes socially; even has cigars with the high power playing politicians during certain events and dinners, but it wasn't anything that's damaging to his health.

Hell, he thinks breathing in all the chemicals in Dr. Gual’s lab’ll destroy his lungs first.

“I can't be with you anymore, Coriolanus. I'm breaking up with you; moving back home.”

“WHAT?!” The platinum blondr shouted so loud that you thought your eardrums busted.

Slinging you duffel over your shoulder and grabbing the handle to your rolling suitcase, you simply told him, “You heard me. I’m leaving you.”

His icy blue eyes flashed with anger and a hint of something else as he stormed over to you. “You're not going anywhere, Y/N.” He ordered, grabbing your suitcase out of your hand.

You yanked your suitcase, trying to snatch it away from him. “Give it back, Coriolanus. I need it “

“You don't need it because you're not leaving.” The cold hearted man that you once believed was capable of loving you said while slinging your suitcase across the room. “Now behave and get dressed. I got reservations for us at-” began pulling the strap of your duffel off of your shoulder l, only for you to snatch the bag back and interrupt him with, “I'm not going to dinner with you tonight or any other night. Not anymore, Coriolanus.” Feeling yourself ready to cry, you started walking away from him.

As long as you didn't look at him you'd be fine.

“We're done. Just go find something else you can pretend to love.” You remarked, walking out of the bedroom.

You made it roughly 3 feet down the hall, only to hear the heavy footfalls of your ex’s black floor shines echoing against the marble floor. Coriolanus stopped you dead in your tracks when he grabbed your upper arm. Spinning you around to look at him, he made to sell you the charming lie of, “Y/N, after being together since our Academy day, I'm not pretending to love you. I do love you.”

Shaking your head, you let out a tiny cackle of, “You're so full of shit. You know that?” You snapped your arm, causing his hold on it to break. Your fingers tightly clutched the strap of your duffel bag as you revealed, ‘I know what you did to sweet Sejanus and how you're exhorting his wall meaning parents.”

His baby blues turned into saucers. For once, the stoic and well masked man looked like he was frazzled.

Looks like you caught him off guard; you confronted him with truths he didn't want to share with you.

Coriolanus reached out for you, but you took two large steps back. Running a hand thru his hair, the platinum blonde looked at you as if you chucked his car out of the penthouse window. “I don't know what you think I did, darling, but let me explain everything.” His tone was dripping with a fake promise.

You knew that he wouldn't tell you the truth. He'd just tell you another one of his lies.

Heartless bastard.

And to think that you wasted nearly 5 years with his ass. You've been by his side since you were 16 years old, only to find out now that everything was a lie.

He never loved you. He never cared.

Hell, the only reason Coriolanus is with you is because the songbird went missing.

Yea…

Now you're thinking that the friendly act he was putting on with his tribute, Lucy Gray, wasn't an act at all. Now you realize he was cheating on you with her and you were too damn stupid to see it.

And to think that you faithfully wrote him and called him when he was a peacekeeper stationed in 12.

You should've listened to your mother and gone out with Sejanus instead. Maybe if you would've accepted his advance he'd still be alive..your friend wouldn't have followed the devil out to District 12 only to be betrayed and sent to the noose.

Too late now. What's done’s done.

But you do wish that you didn't fall in love with somebody who can never love you. Someone so evil.

So heartless.

“Nothing you say to me’s going to make me stay with you, Coriolanus.”

“Can you stop calling me Coriolanus and call me Coryo, like you always do?” Coriolanus asked with a pitiful look in his eyes. You're positive it's fake since he's incapable of feeling anything, other than hate and greed.

“I got a package in the mail today addressed to me; inside was the tape that you recorded of Sejanus. The one that got him hanged.”

Coriolanus' breath caught in his throat and his palms began to sweat. How did somebody send you the copy? He thought that only Dr. Gual has access to that.

She wouldn't send it to you. In fact, she keeps her records well under lock and key; would never part with them.

Looks like one of the interns he replaced in Dr. Gaul's lab is out to make his life hell because he took their coveted internship.

Coriolanus know that he had to calm you down; get you to put your bag down and get changed into a nice dress so he could take you out for dinner.

Damnit, he had something special planned, even got permission from Dr. Gaul to leave the lab early, so you needed to stop looking at him like a monster. He needed you to look at him with love again and quick, otherwise his dinner plans are going to go up in smoke.

“Y/N, I know you think that I betrayed Sejanus, but I didn't. I meant for the tape to reach Strabo, so that he could buy Sejanus an honorable discharge, but it didn't happen that way. The tape was never given to Strabo, it was used as evidence against our friend instead.” Coriolanus told you, foolishly thinking that you'd believe his twisted half truth. Well, they say the best lies are half truths.

Your nostrils flared angrily at hearing the snake in front of you call Sejanus his friend. Sejanus was your friend, not his. Coriolanus wasn't able to have real friends because he couldn't love anything.

Well the only things he loved were money and power, but that didn't count because those aren't people. Those are objects; possessions.

Before you could blink, you slapped Coriolanus across his smooth shaven cheek. “You don't get to call him your friend. Not after you got him killed.”

“You think I'm not haunted by that? That I don't have nightmares of Sejanus screaming out for his Ma; the mockingjays perched on the hanging tree repeating his frightened last cries before flying away?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked, only to give the false confession of, “I broke down crying at my bunk after helplessly watching my brother die, so don't stand here and tell me that I'm not sorry or that I killed my best friend on purpose because I didn't.”

“Oh, Coriolanus l, don't go there. I know for a fact you sleep like a baby every night.” You scoffed.

Shaking your head, you spun round and stormed down the hall.

Coriolanus was hot on your heels. His velvety words of, “Please, darling, don't be rash. Don't throw away 5 years over a tape you received in the mail.”

“I'm not throwing anything away, Coriolanus. As it turns out, those 5 years were all an act for you.” You stormed right into the main room and over to the foyer. Looking at him from over your shoulder as you reached the door, you gave him the famous last words of, “I’m glad I found out you’re heartless; will never love me before when there's still time to get away from you.”

Coriolanus just stared at the door after you slammed it shut. His anger was festering in his chest; he wanted to kill whoever sent you that tape.

Damnit!

There goes his plans for tonight.

He better call the restaurant and cancel the reservation; call up Tigris and let her know that he doesn't need her to stay with Grandma’am tonight because he's not taking Y/N out for dinner anymore.

Looks like he's stuck ordering something in for him and Grandma'am. He wonders if he should give her back that heirloom ring of hers or if he should just keep it; shove it to the back of his sock drawer.

Grandma’am is old and her memory’s started to fade; if he tries to give her the ring back it might put her into one of her nonsense ramblings.

No, he'll keep the ring.

He'll give you some time to cool off; then he'll shower you with jewelry and roses to soften you up.

Once you were softened up, he'd talk some sense into you. Get you to come home.

If you thought that breaking up with Coriolanus Snow would be easy, well, you were wrong. It was the hardest thing you did in your entire life.

And you know why?

Because he wouldn't leave you alone.

Well, he left you alone for the first couple of days, but after that he started sending flowers and gifts. No, not flowers and gifts. Roses and jewelry.

You never accepted them. You always tossed the roses in the trash and gave the packages of jewelry to the desk clerk with the instructions to give them to Coriolanus Snow.

You'd think he'd get the hint and stop.

Well, he didn't.

Instead, the floral arranged for larger and the jewelry kept coming back. Hell, he even went so far as giving you a copy of an ancient Pre-Panem book. A book from an ancient author that you loved.

Jane Austen.

You mother told you to burn the book, but you couldn't do that. It's be a sin to destroy such a work of art.

So, that was the only gift you kept.

But in doing so, you opened the Pandora’s box that was Coriolanus Snow's delusions. He thought that you were ready to see him again because you accepted a book, so he would come by your mother's every night looking to see you.

You always hid in your old child bedroom while your mother showed him away.

After 4 weeks of this insane behavior, your mother told you that she was concerned for your safety. That she felt you never to leave the Capitol for a while. Stay with your brother Rein, who was a peacekeeper that just received an officer’s commission in District 12.

Honestly, you didn't want to leave the Capitol. The Capitol was your home, but you knew that if you stayed then things would get ugly for you. Especially when it concerns Coriolanus.

You knew that Coriolanus would never look for you in District 12. He'd just write you off as a girl he lost control of and just find himself another Capitol bimbo to manipulate and control with false words of love.

So, that's why you were currently stepping off of the train in District 12.

Your brother was standing on the platform, eager awaiting your arrival in his officer’s uniform. When he spotted you, he quickly made his way over to your side and greeted you with a hug.

Reaching for your suitcase, he chuckled, “Let me take that for you, sis.”

“I see becoming an officer's turned you into a gentleman.” You teased Rein as he room your suitcase from you; leading you away from the platform.

“Mother told me your ex is stalking you with roses and jewelry.” Of course she did. Looking between you and a Jeep in the distance, your brother asked, “Does he know about the baby?”

“No.” And you're glad you received that tape after you came home from your doctor's appointment, confirming your suspicions. If not then you'd be trapped with that heartless monster.

“He’s just been sending me that stuff in an attempt to manipulate me back into his arms.

“I'm sorry things didn't work out, but you're more then welcome to stay with me in my apartment on base for as long as you need to.”

Your brother's words meant a lot to you. At least you had somebody to protect you from your ex.

Protect the both of you since you were going to become a mother in nearly 7 months.

Coriolanus walked into Dr. Gaul’s lab with a dead look in his icy blue eyes. It made Dr. Gaul gleeful. It was better then the cold look he had when he returned from his summer vacation as a peacekeeper.

Oh, this time the look in his eyes held so much hate that she doubts anything could ever soften his irises. It was marvelous, really, how the mad scientist molded her protege into a hateful man. Into, well, her best experiment.

But Dr. Gaul knew that there was a chance all of her hard work turning Snow as cold as his namesake could be ruined by you. Well, not you per say, but the creature you were incubating.

Coriolanus Snow wasn't old enough, cold enough, and calloused enough yet to enter fatherhood. He was too young and might grow soft at becoming a father.

A year under her tutelage wasn't long enough to ensure that he wouldn't slip back into a weaker mindset once a crying, shriveling, pink creature that was half him and half you popped into the world.

Dr. Gaul knew that she had to break every part of Coriolanus in order to piece him together into the war mongrel leader she wanted to run the country. You were that small shred of good that latched onto him, kept him from fully drowning in the darkness. A child, your child, might make Coriolanus see the world through a different lense.

Now, she couldn't have that. That would ruin everything.

So, when her contacts at the OBGYN office told her about your appointment and your condition, she sent you a little care package.

Her star student never figured out.that she sent it, instead he blamed the intern who lost his spot to him. The mad scientist even helped Coriolanus test a deadly mutt of the innocent soul who he thought did him wrong. All because Coriolanus’ proposal plans where ruined.

Oops…

Dr. Gaul grinned evilly as she read the latest report from her spies. You were now in District 12 living with your brother on the Peacekeeper base.

Well, looks like it's time for a new game change when it comes to the Hunger Games.

Dr. Gaul decided that even children born on peacekeeper bases would be considered district citizens and would be legally obligated to enter their names into the game's lotto style drawing.

Unless a child between the ages of 12 and 18 is a Capitol citizen living in the Capitol, they will be registered for the games. Living on a Peacekeeper’s.base will not over safety to any child I'm the districts.

Not anymore.

Hopefully your child, fathered by Coriolanus, will never have their name picked for the games.

But as long as Dr. Gaul's alive, shaping Coriolanus like a potter shapes clay, anything's possible.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons , @qoopeeya , @mfnqueen1

[we-re-more-than-that]

I haven't peeped much of it, but I did see people calling Sejanus a spoiled kid and I'm like I LOVE HIM EVEN MORE BC HE IS A SPOILED KID AND HE DIDN'T KNOW HUNGER AND HE STILL KNOWS THAT KEEPING THE STATUS QUO ISN'T THE WAY TO GO.

the empathy of this man

especially when you compare him to mf Coriolanus Snow who KNOWS hunger and STILL thinks people deserve this because they're not people but animals

the parallels between those two; Sejanus, kind because of his nature and nurturing of his mother, ten years in the Capitol and not letting those bullies erode his soul, not letting them harden him, he does NOT betray his kindness even as it could help him integrate better, no, he chooses loneliness no matter what over spoiling his soul

and over there is Coriolanus Snow, who does EVERYTHING for image and status, who fake befriends people on the basis of how they benefit him, having poor Tigris, the literal kindest baby, try to nurture him and pull something good out of him, and she just.. fails

and like, yes, Snow had trauma. but sorry it doesn't excuse becoming a dictator

Sejanus, too, had trauma. they all went through war. while, yes, Sejanus had food to eat, he was plagued by loneliness and guilt all his life and let me remind you this is a KID

people expecting him to be crafting plans just don't get it. he's a teenager that feels guilty as fuck and wants at least a few people to do better if he can't save everyone. because he can't, he can't stand by and watch more cruelties until he MAYBE inherits his father's money. and then what? he's not the only rich person in the Capitol.

either way, it's unlikely he could have led some revolutionary rebellion (he certainly had the grit and passion, though) because he had no backing and the ONE person who he trusted was a mf SNAKE and was actively sabotaging him

where was he gonna get allies for a rebellion? Capitol where he was hated because he wasn't like them? District 2 where he was hated because he didn't belong to them either? District 12 where he was a Peacekeeper, the police of the Capitol?

he was doomed from the start. he was too good and he couldn't play the long game because he was feeling so powerfully about everything and was NOT calculating like Snow. he was not the strategist Snow was.

he was a smart, kind, lonely boy who wanted to do good.

[coryosmin]

The idea of Coryo being with someone who is the complete opposite of him is just too funny to me. Someone who dresses in soft pastels, puts her hair in big silk ribbons. Someone who’s always feeding the strays in her area, talks to district children with the same tenderness she would capitol children, sips tea with Tigris and Grandma’am, talks about how lovely their roses are and is kind to every living creature that breaths. No ill intentions, no false motives. Just a girl who works at a bakery for fun, not because she needs the money, she doesn’t see herself as better than anyone else. She slips him bags of fresh pastries and tarts every morning, shares them the other classmates even though they don’t deserve them (Sejanus does but that boy be properly fed from his Ma how comes he gets cookies too!😭)

She is full of affection and all he can think is “Howww? There’s no such thing as a pure soul.” But then she smiles and bats her fluffy lashes and he’s like “Fuuuck me! My precious.” And just melts, loses his common sense, has a boner and plots to kill anyone that looks at her wrong. She gets a paper cut from Festus by accident and he’s ready to stab him with a pencil.

yes!! black cat coryo x golden retriever girlfriend. giggles

[spideyhexx]

kit's tbosas notes

here are my notes from reading the first five chapters of tbosas <3 this includes quotes I particularly picked out/thoughts as I read! if you want to discuss anything, pls send any thoughts!

CHAPTER 1

Starting off with Coryo & Cabbage immediately made me think about the beginning of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory which starts the same way, where it's making sure you KNOW he's poor.

Memories of looking at picture books with his mother...no thoughts on this, it just made me sad.

"But better off sad, than dead...," (Pg. 5) - ARE YOU SURE CORIOLANUS

"As if controlling one element of his world would keep him from ruin," (Pg. 7) - Suzanne is telling us everything right from the beginning. Tendency to obsession! He seeks control because he didn't have that for his entire childhood.

Communications Professor - Satyria Click favored Coryo and he's the TA for that class.

Coryo considers flaking over a shirt as the most relatable thing as someone who also deals with anxiety and being meticulous. More on that, there is so much to be known about him in just the first few pages, how perfectionist he is, how badly he tears himself down over image, how much he hates his status...

Tigris is so exceptionally sweet, that it hurts!

He's pricked by a rose immediately and I don't take that moment lightly, that's deeper than it comes off.

I must have forgot reaping day was on July 4th but that's insane.

"LOVE THE BANGS." - Coriolanus is a kiss-up

Gymnasium Mistress is such a silly title - Agrippina Sickle - SEJANUS IS THE TA

Pg. 17 - Sejanus and his soulful brown eyes! Josh comes right off the page as Sejanus, what perfect casting.

There is disdain and camaraderie from Coriolanus' POV regarding Sejanus. He's playing with him but he also kind of likes that?

Coriolanus' first dialogue with Sejanus is about working out.

"Ma? Was Coriolanus' place about to be usurped by someone who referred to his mother as Ma?" (Pg. 20) - Coriolanus being funny.

CHAPTER 2

Coriolanus singing the national anthem in a forceful voice, getting nods of approval over it, and immediately thinking, "It was pathetic," is the most relatable thing I have ever heard. (Pg. 23)

"his insult," referring to Lucy Gray (pg. 25)

Mayfair wetting herself from the snake.

"There was something vaguely familiar about her but disturbing about her," (Pg. 25) - more than just the circus memories he has in this moment.

Sejanus immediately calling that Lucy Gray being chosen was rigged is so interesting to me? The fact he picked up on that out of anyone.

"Don't cry," - CORYO

"Coriolanus wondered if, like him, they were hoping she'd keep singing," (Pg. 29) - he's already in so deep

"But his brain had developed properly; at least he hoped it had," (Pg. 34) - funny coryo

The entire scene of Highbottom insulting Coriolanus is much sadder here in the book than in the film due to the sole fact of what happened before. Coriolanus so badly wants pie, even thinking about getting two slices and after Highbottom insults him, Coriolanus just wants to leave the Academy, he completely disregards how much he wants to eat after he's mocked. Also Coriolanus not knowing why Highbottom hates him? And thinking it's the nickname the students call him. Interesting.

First the threat of losing his apartment, then the lowliest tribute assignment -- who, on further reflection, was definitely crazy..." (Pg. 36) - I actually thought he was gonna say something nice here for some reason.

CHAPTER 3

"As you always say, your roses open any doors," (Pg. 38) - he never forgot this.

Remus Dolittle - Game-maker in training, who lives below Coriolanus

"She was terrifying really. And here he was in his uniform, clutching a rose like some lovesick schoolboy, hoping she would -- what? Like him? Trust him? Not kill him on sight?" (Pg. 39) - thought this was funny.

Coryo waited three hours!!! He felt a mix of pity and revulsion at the tributes.

Coriolanus believing his gravelly voice from not speaking for hours had a nice maturity to it (Pg. 42)

Lucy Gray calls him gorgeous.

He clocks Lucy Gray 'performing' from the get-go (Pg. 42) - and on that note, Lucy Gray feels so much more mysterious in the book since we're inside Coriolanus' head, she comes off as like an enigma and I really do love the discussion of how she is using him almost as much as he's using her. Of course, Coriolanus has worse moments than in regards to her, but she is performing for a lot of this.

I like the change that he sneaks onto the truck in the movie instead of Peacekeepers giving him permission.

"He remembered she carried snakes in her pocket and the usual rules didn't apply to her," (Pg. 43) - funny Coryo

In the truck scene with the tributes, I think the film had better lines (dialogue), especially from Coriolanus

He's a pampered poodle!

"Coriolanus resorted to the one move that had yet to fail him in schoolyard scuffles, driving his knee up hard into his opponent's crotch," (Pg. 45) - okay 1, WHAT SCHOOLYARD SCUFFLES WAS CORYO GETTING INTO and 2, I like that they took this out from the film because it would characterize him more on knowing how to fight at least somewhat but I feel like it strengthens what happens when he kills a tribute in the arena to not see him be violent in any regard beforehand.

"After Lucy Gray's wink, it might be worthwhile to stay," (Pg. 47) - CRAZY, OKAY CORYO!

CHAPTER 4

"HIS GIRL," (Pg. 49) - he's so possessive immediately

"Who were all these people hanging around on a weekday at the zoo? Didn't they have jobs? Shouldn't the children be in school? No wonder the country was such a mess," (Pg. 49) - Coryo continues to be funny

"All the faces...began to blur...his limbs felt numb, his lungs starved for air...he felt immense relief that he was not entirely alone...," (Pg. 49) - This whole section is so key in his character and his immediate liking/trust to Lucy Gray. First, he goes into a panic attack over the situation, and she's the one to ground him and calm him, which we learn later he usually calms down at night with his mother's rose powder scent in the compact and it's just making me think about how he misses that presence or a presence that can ground him and Lucy Gray does that without him even asking.

Coryo felt a spark and a burst of charisma from holding her hand AND she gripped his hand like a vice despite her outward appearance being so calm and confident (Pg. 50)

Lepidus Malmsey - Capitol News

"tried for likable with a hint of roguishness," (Pg. 53) - okay, Coryo

"He thought the combination of cohorts and unceremoniously had just the right note of superiority," (Pg. 54-55) - thinking of himself as superior to the Peacekeepers and also showing his perfectionism even within what words he chooses. He's so pretentious.

Io Jasper adored Coriolanus

"the smell of formaldehyde triggered his gag reflex," (Pg. 55) -wrote this down because I'm a teen boy/j

Coriolanus watched Gaul melt the flesh off of a rat at NINE!!!

Boa Bell is the sweetest name for a cat, I'm in love. She loved Coryo!!! And consoled him :(

"it upset him to think of Boa Bell ending up in the lab," (Pg. 58)

Coriolanus remembers Lucy Gray's words about owning it to help with talking to Gaul and Highbottom. She's so in his head already.

"Coriolanus would have to review the Academy student guide so he could object to the punishment," (Pg. 61) - he's so anxious and particular and insane

CHAPTER 5

he and Lucy Gray were the stars...okay Coriolanus!

"What was Sejanus up to? Was he trying to outdo him and steal the day's thunder?" (Pg. 63) - Coriolanus!!!

Also "that girl wasn't even his tribute," (Pg. 63) - referring to Dill. Sejanus trying to hand out food to anyone. This is such a good way of characterizing him as being sympathetic towards all of them, not just Marcus.

"His dog in a fight," (Pg. 68) - Coriolanus is referring to Lucy Gray here...he's so contradictory because he does make comments about knowing they're not 'animals' and he treats Lucy Gray as a normal human, but then his thoughts reflect more of this! The way he doesn't question it though is a testament to how it's been drilled into his head.

Coriolanus broke his denial of eating after seeing the ketchup in Lucy Gray's sandwich

He gets flustered after openly admitting to Lucy Gray of not having much food at home!!! I feel like the film lost out on so much character for Coryo in regards to his relationship with food because it is so important in almost every chapter. Also, him admitting it this quick to her is another point in showing how he's gained trust for her so quick. He calls himself an idiot over telling her.

"but this caressed his brain, calling her from the depths," (Pg. 71) - referring to Lucy Gray's song as it reminded him of a song his mother sang, then Coryo goes into the backstory of her death. There really is a connection between the love his mother gave him and his relationship with Lucy Gray.

he smells the rose powder when he has trouble sleeping :( this was all such a sad passage to read but especially, "it never failed to calm him with the memory of how it had felt to be loved like that," (Pg. 71) - Like that's very tragic.

The entire conversation with Sejanus, I'm still thinking about it but. It's clear Coriolanus is manipulating his own thoughts with how he sees Sejanus' actions, like Coriolanus almost can't fathom Sejanus is saying/doing things out of the mere goodness of his heart. And if Coriolanus does believe that, he sees it as stupid. And he sees Sejanus' actions as not being grateful for what he has. So at the end of it, Coriolanus is just jealous and spiteful.

"Lucy Gray was one thing belonging to Coriolanus that he [Sejanus] would never, ever get," (Pg. 75) - absolutely wild thing but this goes back to what was said in chapter one!!! Coriolanus wants to be able to control something and add into it what he feels towards Sejanus, it's amplified right now because he has the ability to deprive Sejanus of what he's asking for.

[tiredflowercrown]

there's no bandage (to lessen the damage)

Hehe @panthera-tigris-venenata you wanted all three right? You wanted this right? Are you prepared for what you asked for? I'm not sure you are but oh well.

Trigger Warning: Dehumanisation, Unethical medical practices, Human experimentation

All vauge, but you have been warned

CJ had always been reckless. Ever since she could walk she had been getting in trouble, running into situations she shouldn’t belong or climbing up masts. She was rambunctious and loud and free.

There was no one really free on the Isle like CJ was. A luxury granted to her by her siblings, who held so much fear on the Isle no one dared touch her unless they were a fool. She ran from place to place doing as she pleased. So it was no wonder that it was these habits that did her in.

CJ had been enjoying Auradon. There was so much for her to explore, to find, to steal, to simply wreck havoc upon. Running from place to place, kingdom to kingdom, was exhilarating. She finally had people willing to give chase. The thrill of the hunt had been the most addicting thing she had felt yet.

So when the guards got close, within eyesight, and she ran, her voice bubbled with laughter. Crazy psychotic laughter. The only kind she knew, well the only kind she let the public know she had a reputation to protect. It rang out for miles, hiding her in the scenery to most, yet one guard kept her eyes on her, tracking her through the trees and brush, waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect shot.

CJ had stopped for a breath when it happened, standing on a branch, a huge smile across her face. The arrow in her chest took all of that away. She fell, shock replacing her smile, blood quickly blossoming along her shirt. Upon hitting the ground, the audible crunch of bones had even the guard flinching.

She approached closer, careful due to CJ’s known trickery, calling in the fall and potential capture of a wanted fugitive. The young girl just lied there. She seemed so simple, so small with her quickly blood soaking shirt and glassy eyes.

Somewhere on an Isle miles away, two people scream. A piece of their heart gone. They don’t know how. They don’t know why. Just a sinking gut and a searing pain telling them everything they need to know.

“She’s dead. The fugitive is dead. Prepare for extraction.”

The guard looked mournfully, remembering the details of the profile she was given: Calista Jane Hook, Age 14. She had only been a child.

No. She couldn’t think like that. The fugitive was dangerous for a reason. The property damage and millions of stolen goods spoke for itself. No. The world was far better with it out of it. (It had to be right?)

The body is taken in. A full work up is done. Medical tests and examinations. A full autopsy. A full cause of death and all the contributing factors. Everything is done. No stone is left unturned. No one had ever gotten a chance to truly see what the Isle had done to people before, they didn’t want to miss a single detail. Not when something so fascinating, so rare was in front of them. A whole study at their disposal, no ethics board sitting in their way. Not when there was no eligible next of kin. Not when there wasn’t a single soul who cared about the dead fugitive.

In a castle miles away sat a girl searching. For a way to talk, to get her back, to make a deal. A life for a life. Anything. She didn’t mean what she said. She didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be in a world without her wildfire. She couldn’t do this without her.

Finally after much pushing from the Crown, the fugitive’s body was released, but not without plenty of samples taken to continue testing. When it finally reached the hands of one Freddie Facilier, she wept at the loss of her dear CJ, who was almost unrecognizable. She was lifeless, none of her abundance of energy to be seen. Massive chunks of her hair were missing, surgical lines across every limb of her body. Every part of her dissected.

She crafted letters, being careful of who saw her. It wouldn’t do to have her surprise ruined. She mourned and buried her wildfire. CJ deserved to rest, deserved to be left alone from Auradon’s pain and torture. She watched and waited for vengeance, it didn’t belong to her, not really. And the sea always helped the sea, a ship couldn’t sail without waves. They grew closer and she grew more content, they will avenge her. They will avenge CJ.

When the siblings finally reach Auradon, it will burn. Their fury will reach levels never seen before. Lives will be taken, buildings broken into and burned. Every inch of what had been done to their sister, every reminder, every document will be destroyed. They don’t deserve her or the knowledge that their “research” on her gave them.

But it will never be enough.

Because Calista Jane will remain dead. She will remain in the ground (Or in labs never found.) She will never speak again. She will never laugh again. She will never run again. She will never be again.

Only the memory of her will remain untainted. And even that is not enough.

[tundrakatiebean]

While rotating my blorbo for a possible fic in my head I came up with a heartbreaking headcanon and I’m inflicting it on the rest of you because let’s be real - I don’t have time to write anything properly I have too many other creative things that take precedence.

So Tigris’ comfort item is an old fur coat from her parents. Tigris is known to have been a stylist for the hunger games. Tigris is also known to have been extremely sympathetic and kind to the tributes.

I think her coat is long gone by the time Katniss sees her in her shop selling fur, with a hidden cellar full of pelts. It was clearly an old coat. It was a remainder from Tigris’ family and one she relied on frequently during her fraught life so it could have been worn to shreds. Or sold during some of the rough times while Coriolanus was gone and money was tight. But I don’t think that’s what happened. I think while she was a stylist, while she saw these poor, hungry and scared kids, she tried to give them any comfort she could. She was always kind and thoughtful.

I think the first year she was a proper stylist she begged Coryo for district 8. She wanted the kids who understood fabric and how it worked and how it could be styled. Even though Coryo saw a district that far away as a slight to A Snow. I think she saw these two kids and she asked what would comfort them - what little piece of anything she could give them to help them. The kids didn’t know how to answer. The idea of district tokens hadn’t come to be yet, but she’d make sure to tell Coryo to add that for the next games. She told them about her comfort item - the old fur coat. Something that was a rarity in the districts and especially the one that made clothes out of leftover fabric remnants from the factory. She let them feel it and think about what could comfort them. After the kids were taken back to their quarters and she was left to design and sew costumes that would make them memorable she put her coat on. To think. To feel the fur around her, between her finger, and she had an idea.

That was the first time she took scissors to her coat, her most favored possession. It wasn’t to take a lot. Just two little pieces that she sewed into each of the costumes. Right in the pocket. Where the kids could reach in, rub their fingers against the feeling of fur, and remember somebody cared and wanted them comforted even if she couldn’t save them. She did it for every one of the kids she designed for. Leaving a little piece of her soul for each of those doomed to suffer and die. Until there was nothing left and she did enough surgery on herself that Coriolanus finally let her stop designing and she could disappear into a shop full of comforts and ghosts.

[mitsuki91]

I have an hilarious mini snippet from the Snowjanus au fic with female!Coryo, if you want... Under the cute because spoiler but it's fun I promise 😂

"Oh!" exclaimed Tigris, bringing a hand to her mouth, "Grandmaam, you surely don't think... Corinna is not pregnant! They don't have to get married right away!" Tigris turned to her, panicking "You're not pregnant, are you?!"

Corinna, who in the meantime had been open-mouthed, shocked, exclaimed, "No!" ... And then turned to him "... I'm not, am I?"

Sejanus wished he were dead.

"No..." he murmured, feeling his soul fly from his body "You're not, Corinna..." God, Corinna really needed some kind of sex education lesson.

[literarykit]

tbosas reading notes; chapters 1-5

here are my notes from reading the first five chapters of tbosas <3 this includes quotes I particularly picked out/thoughts as I read! if you want to discuss anything, pls send any thoughts! masterlist *this is a repost from my main blog

CHAPTER 1

Starting off with Coryo & Cabbage immediately made me think about the beginning of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory which starts the same way, where it's making sure you KNOW he's poor.

Memories of looking at picture books with his mother...no thoughts on this, it just made me sad.

"But better off sad, than dead...," (Pg. 5) - ARE YOU SURE CORIOLANUS

"As if controlling one element of his world would keep him from ruin," (Pg. 7) - Suzanne is telling us everything right from the beginning. Tendency to obsession! He seeks control because he didn't have that for his entire childhood.

Communications Professor - Satyria Click favored Coryo and he's the TA for that class.

Coryo considers flaking over a shirt as the most relatable thing as someone who also deals with anxiety and being meticulous. More on that, there is so much to be known about him in just the first few pages, how perfectionist he is, how badly he tears himself down over image, how much he hates his status...

Tigris is so exceptionally sweet, that it hurts!

He's pricked by a rose immediately and I don't take that moment lightly, that's deeper than it comes off.

I must have forgot reaping day was on July 4th but that's insane.

"LOVE THE BANGS." - Coriolanus is a kiss-up

Gymnasium Mistress is such a silly title - Agrippina Sickle - SEJANUS IS THE TA

Pg. 17 - Sejanus and his soulful brown eyes! Josh comes right off the page as Sejanus, what perfect casting.

There is disdain and camaraderie from Coriolanus' POV regarding Sejanus. He's playing with him but he also kind of likes that?

Coriolanus' first dialogue with Sejanus is about working out.

"Ma? Was Coriolanus' place about to be usurped by someone who referred to his mother as Ma?" (Pg. 20) - Coriolanus being funny.

CHAPTER 2

Coriolanus singing the national anthem in a forceful voice, getting nods of approval over it, and immediately thinking, "It was pathetic," is the most relatable thing I have ever heard. (Pg. 23)

"his insult," referring to Lucy Gray (pg. 25)

Mayfair wetting herself from the snake.

"There was something vaguely familiar about her but disturbing about her," (Pg. 25) - more than just the circus memories he has in this moment.

Sejanus immediately calling that Lucy Gray being chosen was rigged is so interesting to me? The fact he picked up on that out of anyone.

"Don't cry," - CORYO

"Coriolanus wondered if, like him, they were hoping she'd keep singing," (Pg. 29) - he's already in so deep

"But his brain had developed properly; at least he hoped it had," (Pg. 34) - funny coryo

The entire scene of Highbottom insulting Coriolanus is much sadder here in the book than in the film due to the sole fact of what happened before. Coriolanus so badly wants pie, even thinking about getting two slices and after Highbottom insults him, Coriolanus just wants to leave the Academy, he completely disregards how much he wants to eat after he's mocked. Also Coriolanus not knowing why Highbottom hates him? And thinking it's the nickname the students call him. Interesting.

First the threat of losing his apartment, then the lowliest tribute assignment -- who, on further reflection, was definitely crazy..." (Pg. 36) - I actually thought he was gonna say something nice here for some reason.

CHAPTER 3

"As you always say, your roses open any doors," (Pg. 38) - he never forgot this.

Remus Dolittle - Game-maker in training, who lives below Coriolanus

"She was terrifying really. And here he was in his uniform, clutching a rose like some lovesick schoolboy, hoping she would -- what? Like him? Trust him? Not kill him on sight?" (Pg. 39) - thought this was funny.

Coryo waited three hours!!! He felt a mix of pity and revulsion at the tributes.

Coriolanus believing his gravelly voice from not speaking for hours had a nice maturity to it (Pg. 42)

Lucy Gray calls him gorgeous.

He clocks Lucy Gray 'performing' from the get-go (Pg. 42) - and on that note, Lucy Gray feels so much more mysterious in the book since we're inside Coriolanus' head, she comes off as like an enigma and I really do love the discussion of how she is using him almost as much as he's using her. Of course, Coriolanus has worse moments than in regards to her, but she is performing for a lot of this.

I like the change that he sneaks onto the truck in the movie instead of Peacekeepers giving him permission.

"He remembered she carried snakes in her pocket and the usual rules didn't apply to her," (Pg. 43) - funny Coryo

In the truck scene with the tributes, I think the film had better lines (dialogue), especially from Coriolanus

He's a pampered poodle!

"Coriolanus resorted to the one move that had yet to fail him in schoolyard scuffles, driving his knee up hard into his opponent's crotch," (Pg. 45) - okay 1, WHAT SCHOOLYARD SCUFFLES WAS CORYO GETTING INTO and 2, I like that they took this out from the film because it would characterize him more on knowing how to fight at least somewhat but I feel like it strengthens what happens when he kills a tribute in the arena to not see him be violent in any regard beforehand.

"After Lucy Gray's wink, it might be worthwhile to stay," (Pg. 47) - CRAZY, OKAY CORYO!

CHAPTER 4

"HIS GIRL," (Pg. 49) - he's so possessive immediately

"Who were all these people hanging around on a weekday at the zoo? Didn't they have jobs? Shouldn't the children be in school? No wonder the country was such a mess," (Pg. 49) - Coryo continues to be funny

"All the faces...began to blur...his limbs felt numb, his lungs starved for air...he felt immense relief that he was not entirely alone...," (Pg. 49) - This whole section is so key in his character and his immediate liking/trust to Lucy Gray. First, he goes into a panic attack over the situation, and she's the one to ground him and calm him, which we learn later he usually calms down at night with his mother's rose powder scent in the compact and it's just making me think about how he misses that presence or a presence that can ground him and Lucy Gray does that without him even asking.

Coryo felt a spark and a burst of charisma from holding her hand AND she gripped his hand like a vice despite her outward appearance being so calm and confident (Pg. 50)

Lepidus Malmsey - Capitol News

"tried for likable with a hint of roguishness," (Pg. 53) - okay, Coryo

"He thought the combination of cohorts and unceremoniously had just the right note of superiority," (Pg. 54-55) - thinking of himself as superior to the Peacekeepers and also showing his perfectionism even within what words he chooses. He's so pretentious.

Io Jasper adored Coriolanus

"the smell of formaldehyde triggered his gag reflex," (Pg. 55) -wrote this down because I'm a teen boy/j

Coriolanus watched Gaul melt the flesh off of a rat at NINE!!!

Boa Bell is the sweetest name for a cat, I'm in love. She loved Coryo!!! And consoled him :(

"it upset him to think of Boa Bell ending up in the lab," (Pg. 58)

Coriolanus remembers Lucy Gray's words about owning it to help with talking to Gaul and Highbottom. She's so in his head already.

"Coriolanus would have to review the Academy student guide so he could object to the punishment," (Pg. 61) - he's so anxious and particular and insane

CHAPTER 5

he and Lucy Gray were the stars...okay Coriolanus!

"What was Sejanus up to? Was he trying to outdo him and steal the day's thunder?" (Pg. 63) - Coriolanus!!!

Also "that girl wasn't even his tribute," (Pg. 63) - referring to Dill. Sejanus trying to hand out food to anyone. This is such a good way of characterizing him as being sympathetic towards all of them, not just Marcus.

"His dog in a fight," (Pg. 68) - Coriolanus is referring to Lucy Gray here...he's so contradictory because he does make comments about knowing they're not 'animals' and he treats Lucy Gray as a normal human, but then his thoughts reflect more of this! The way he doesn't question it though is a testament to how it's been drilled into his head.

Coriolanus broke his denial of eating after seeing the ketchup in Lucy Gray's sandwich

He gets flustered after openly admitting to Lucy Gray of not having much food at home!!! I feel like the film lost out on so much character for Coryo in regards to his relationship with food because it is so important in almost every chapter. Also, him admitting it this quick to her is another point in showing how he's gained trust for her so quick. He calls himself an idiot over telling her.

"but this caressed his brain, calling her from the depths," (Pg. 71) - referring to Lucy Gray's song as it reminded him of a song his mother sang, then Coryo goes into the backstory of her death. There really is a connection between the love his mother gave him and his relationship with Lucy Gray.

he smells the rose powder when he has trouble sleeping :( this was all such a sad passage to read but especially, "it never failed to calm him with the memory of how it had felt to be loved like that," (Pg. 71) - Like that's very tragic.

The entire conversation with Sejanus, I'm still thinking about it but. It's clear Coriolanus is manipulating his own thoughts with how he sees Sejanus' actions, like Coriolanus almost can't fathom Sejanus is saying/doing things out of the mere goodness of his heart. And if Coriolanus does believe that, he sees it as stupid. And he sees Sejanus' actions as not being grateful for what he has. So at the end of it, Coriolanus is just jealous and spiteful.

"Lucy Gray was one thing belonging to Coriolanus that he [Sejanus] would never, ever get," (Pg. 75) - absolutely wild thing but this goes back to what was said in chapter one!!! Coriolanus wants to be able to control something and add into it what he feels towards Sejanus, it's amplified right now because he has the ability to deprive Sejanus of what he's asking for.

[adlerorzel-blog]

What's your favorite character from all across THG trilogy & TBOSAS?

Why do you like this character?

Favorite quote or moment from them?

Please state one (or more) thing which you don't like from them.

Thank you 😊

@curiousthg

Hi! 😊 sorry it took me so long to respond 😅

I have two favorite characters in the entire thg universe and they are Peeta and Tigris.

About Peeta, the main reason I adore him is that he's kind. He is kind and likes to create and seek beauty in a world designed for cruelty, yet he is not weak or naive, he has his eyes wide open to his surroundings and survives in his own way. He is the male character that I hold dear to my heart because he has the characteristics of a villain or a dark romantic interest, but with the specific and clear intention that he does not want to become that. He fears becoming a monster and strives against becoming one, and when it is out of his control, he fights with everything he has to not let it consume him so that he can be himself again. He is dangerous in a way that few people pay attention to. His way with words and camouflage can be a frightening thing, even in the arc of his hijacking, there are moments when he makes space for himself in other people's lives, but instead of using those talents to gain power or influence over others, he uses them to comfort strangers, gain allies, be useful to others or as a desperate attempt to not disappear (oh the irony).

I started liking Tigris after I read tbosas. In the original trilogy, I didn't pay much attention to her but oh how wonderful it was to meet her in tbosas! She is a character I respect a lot, for her desire to achieve her dreams in the midst of terribly difficult times, for her hard work to keep her family afloat, and for the way love did not leave her blind. It takes a lot of courage to see the people we love for who they are and she didn't just prune the family tree, she set it on fire.

Peeta has many phrases that are gold, but my favorite is “But even if that happens, everyone will know we've gone out fighting, right?” In my opinion, it sums up his character and how he always puts everything he has into his ideals, ideas or plans. And my favorite moment is when he comforted the victor of District 6 as she died. I cry every time I see/read that scene.

There is a phrase of Tigris that is engraved in my soul “Try not to look down on people who had to choose between death and disgrace.” And the scene I love the most is from Movie!Tigris, when she tells Coriolanus that he looks just like his father. It's art. I get chills every time I watch that scene.

One thing I don't like about Peeta is his way of deflecting questions or comments that reveal something about him. On several occasions Katniss asks him very real questions, trying to find out more about him, but he shuts down and instead of sharing his real thoughts he says a flirtatious or romantic comment that distracts Katniss. The poor girl struggles to learn to communicate with him and he won't let her get to know him without making it more confusing for her. Every time he does that I sigh in impatience and scold him in my mind. 🥲

There's a reason why the headcanon about Tigris that I defend to the death is "Snow forced her to participate in the games to gain influence," and that's because I can't stand the idea of Tigris doing it willingly. It's my biggest delulu moment/thing. 🙃

Thanks for the ask! And sorry for the long reply, I couldn't control myself hehe 😅

[cgetbrmj]

HI HELLO SO SORRY FOR HARRASSING YOU IN YOUR INBOX FEEL FREE TO TELL ME TO STFU WHENEVER BUT YOURE JUST THE ONLY MUTUAL THAT ACTUALLY IS INTO TBOSAS AGERE.

anyway do u have hcs on cg!Sejanus and little!coryo? I’ll probably be back stalking ur inbox to shove my hc for them in your face but I’m curious of yours and if we have any mutual ones??

peace n love and I’m sorry again for harrassing you-

hahaha never harassing me, I promise!! I adore getting messages in my inbox!! I'm also very hyped by having a mutual who is just as excited about tbosas agere as I am lol please feel free to send your hcs my way I love hearing them

ugh cg!Sejanus 😍😭 I have so much love for him - and Little Coryo is a massive guilty pleasure at this stage. I do have some hcs on them - mostly assuming this is in a littles are known verse (though I do have a couple vague fic ideas on an age regressing Coryo in a non-littles are known verse if anyone cares to hear about that)

Probably gonna put a break here because I'm probably gonna ramble about them for ages lol - this ask has been a great excuse to post hcs on them so - you're getting more than you signed up for lol!!!!!!! Sage feel free to message me that I'm doing too much haha, hoping that you won't mind the rambling but idk just lemme know if it's too much - and also if you like any of the hcs/agree with any!

Despite Coryo being the person defending Sejanus more often than not, Sejanus is so loyal to Coryo and Very protective of him, no matter the circumstances.

Early on (pre tbosas/early academy days) Sejanus is more concerned with protecting big Coryo's representation than he is with considering caregiving for Little Coryo, and totally helps to hide that Coryo is a Little from everyone.

Absolutely found out that Coryo did not have anything for Little him and absolutely immediately started sneaking him gear.

Probably tries to do it in a way that Coryo won't notice and argue against it - gives him a paci when he's practically asleep, hands him a stuffie to keep when he's already started slipping.

sneaks him bite size snacks periodically across a long time until he's confident Coryo's eaten enough to get through the rest of the day without realising Sejanus has caught on to his food problem.

(If in a verse with any kind of headspace suppressants) Sejanus refuses to let Coryo ignore/supress his headspace - will do anything for him but let him hurt himself.

Is really big on hand holding. They're going anywhere? Sejanus is interlocking their fingers immediately. Is Little Coryo much of a runner? Not at all. Is Sejanus giving him the opportunity? Nope. That boy is constantly at LEAST in eyesight of Sejanus.

LOVES playing with Coryo's blonde curls. Mostly only gets the chance when they're both half asleep already but it's such a soothing and comforting thing for Sejanus to do.

I feel like Sejanus would be the type of caregiver to give daily affirmations. Especially with how obvious it is that Coryo overthinks every moment of his life. I can see him trying to get Little Coryo to repeat positive affirmations in the morning and before bed.

I see Little Coryo as an easy crier. He's just so overwhelmed about everything and has barely processed any of it. When things don't go his way, he tends to break down easier because of that.

Not much of a tantrum thrower - but Little Coryo is Very petulant. He's pouty and fussy and whiney, and thinks he deserves anything and everything he could possibly want, and he Will be devastated if that doesn't work out (for like 5 minutes and then will absolutely have moved onto the next thing)

Little Coryo adores Tigris and definitely thinks she's the boss of everyone and that anything she says is always 100% true and never doubts it. Tigris is far too kind a soul to take advantage of this.

Little Coryo is definitely touch starved but also definitely does not realise it or believe it.

Sejanus tries to comfort him by hugging him and totally thinks he's made things worse for a second with how emotional of a response he gets from Coryo from doing it.

Coryo is extremely adamant that he's an independent big kid who doesn't really need Sejanus help with anything - right up until he's a little bit tired and sleepy and has decided that he's done with whatever he's doing, and then he's just about the clingiest thing ever and wants to steal every drop of Sejanus's attention.

Sejanus loves reading to Little Coryo - picture books, children's novels, poetry, (if Coryo is tired/little enough to allow it - touch and feel books/ anything interactive).

Coryo is either very talkative or barely verbal - Sejanus narrates his every movement though and fills in the silence most of the time

As I said - kind of used this ask as an excuse to dump some very random hcs on these two - I definitely have a lot more but that's heading into plot for some fics I'm currently working on territory sooo...

Sorry if this has been unintelligible or a nightmare to read - I am incredibly tired and basically writing this asleep haha but I loved rambling for a bit <3

[katie-the-bug]

My thoughts on Soul Harvest, part 2

I'm back.

The Characters:

The Tribulation Force: Rayford Steele, Christian pilot of the Antichrist; Buck Williams, reporter; Chloe Williams, Rayford's daughter and Buck's pregnant wife; Amanda Steele, Rayford's missing wife; Bruce Barnes, the group's dead pastor; Tsion Ben-Judah, Bruce's replacement; Mac McCullum, new Christian and Rayford's copilot; Ken Ritz, new Christian and Buck's pilot.

Antichrist and Friends: Nicolae Carpathia, Antichrist and Potentate of the Global Community; Leon Fortunato, Nicolae's chief yes-man; Hattie Durham, Nicolae's pregnant ex.

In Chapter 14 we hear that Hattie's staying at a facility that seems to be half abortion clinic, half women's shelter that apparently also raises unwanted children. I don't know what kind of place the authors could have based this on other than perhaps a medieval nunnery.

A few books ago the authors introduced Peter Mathews, the Catholic pope and Pontifex Maximus of "Enigma Babylon One World Faith." Only now have they caught on that a modern Pope Peter would in fact be called "Peter the Second."

While arguing with Buck, Chloe said, "I don't have a problem submitting to you..." and nothing after that registered in my brain because of how gross it is. Do I have to explain? Eew.

Chloe also asks if she's been "demoted to mascot" of the Tribulation Force, implying that the authors treated her like anything else to begin with.

In Chapter 16, Tsion gives a newly converted Ken a book called "How to Begin the Christian Life," before saying that "the Scriptures do not refer to use who become believers after the Rapture as Christians. We are referred to as tribulation saints." Distinction without a difference.

"I believe the very idea of a one-world government, or currency, or especially faith (or I should say nonfaith) is from the pit of Hell." Just in case it wasn't clear how the authors feel about human unity.

Tsion reveals that some TV channels show "real violence, actual tortures and murders" but gives no detail before he complains about witchcraft as though that's just as serious. I would like to hear more. What are they showing, how do the characters know it's real, and how is it allowed? I understand that sometimes a few background references are necessary to create depth in the worldbuilding, but this is too out of the blue to leave dangling.

We get another detail about the clinic Hattie's staying at - "apparently there's a lot of cloning and fetal tissue research going on." The authors would like to remind you that medical science is bad.

When Buck goes to get Hattie from the clinic and tries to figure out the false name she's using, he's shocked to find that she's given a Japanese name, or, as Buck's narration puts it, "using an ethnic alias." Ah yes, the two races, white and "ethnic." He's also shocked that an Asian woman is named Mary Johnson, even though he lives in America where anyone could have a name like that. What the hell, authors.

A fight scene reveals that Nicolae is officially trying to get Hattie killed. My ship is rusting away at the bottom of the ocean. :(

In Chapter 18, Rayford, who to my knowledge has never gone scuba diving before, goes scuba diving in the Tigris River to prove that his wife is NOT on a plane that crashed there during the earthquake. This is what we in the business like to call a "hare-brained scheme."

In Chapter 19, we get another scene with the two witnesses, who "warn enemies of the Messiah what is to come" but "do not use the Antichrist's name." It seems that, like Bruce and Tsion, they couldn't care less if any of their followers actually know who the Antichrist is.

Hattie reveals that Nicolae had Bruce poisoned a few books ago, which would have been nice to know had Bruce's death been at all mysterious in the first place. As it was, two books ago they figured he just died of a tropical disease and that was that. This reveal adds very little.

The reveal that Nicolae has also had Hattie poisoned has a bit more weight, but it also makes no sense. He sent people with guns to kill her - why would he need poison too? What kind of Rasputinian death did he have planned for her?

After an entire book of searching, in Chapter 20 Rayford finds Amanda dead at the bottom of a river. I toldja the authors just wanted to give Rayford another dead wife.

A hail of fire, blood, and ice comes down on the world per prophecy, and Rayford is reminded "that God is faithful." That's... not the attribute I would've had in mind for God at this point in the story, but okay.

At the very end of the book, the in-universe news tells us that a "comet" made of sulfur and the size of the Appalachian mountain range is on a collision course with Earth. Tsion tells us that, per the Bible, the impact will sink one-third of all ships and kill one-third of all marine life. If this sounds reasonable, you know nothing about impacts. Let's think - the Chixiclub impact, by an asteroid only ten kilometers wide, caused mass destruction on land and sea and sent massive amounts of debris into the atmosphere, blocking out the sun, kicking the food chain out from under the dinosaurs, and wiping out 75% of all species on Earth. An asteroid the size of a mountain range would break up at the Roche limit, sending Chixiclub-sized impacts raining down all across the globe. Anything that survived the initial impacts would have to contend with a blanket of gas and dust across the sky that would prevent photosynthesis worldwide. This would not wipe out one-third of sea life. This would wipe out all life on Earth. This book being what it is, however, the impact gets one paragraph, and then it's business as usual.

A page later and there's another asteroid coming, of similar size and slightly reduced density. This one breaks up like it realistically would, but rather than causing mass impact damage and wiping out all life on Earth for what should be a second time, its pieces merely poison a third of Earth's freshwater. That is, to put it simply, not what asteroids do.

If this book were a person I'd hit him over the head with a folding chair.

[thegoddessprose]

After all my yapping about Chiasa and Plutarch, I thought I'd finally put my money where my mouth is and post a fic. This is something I wrote a little while ago, albeit with a few edits. It's a 5+1 rather than a sophisticated backstory (That might come later, once my Tigris fic on AO3 is at least on hiatus), but I'm hoping it'll give a little more insight than the memes :p

Yes, @plutarchheavensbee you can share, I did promise

Without further ado, enjoy

TW: References to past substance abuse, victor prostitution, grief, slightly NSFW but nothing graphic

Five Things That Fascinated Plutarch about Chiasa and One Thing That Made Him Realize He Loved Her.

1. Her Eyes

Simple decorum had forced Plutarch to learn that Chiasa's eyes were a nice shade of icy blue and not much else. They say that eyes are the window to the soul, but he initially didn't bother looking in. His initial impression of her was pretty and overall harmless, but nothing else, and that remained for years.

That was, until this past yuletide night, when he'd taken it upon himself to smuggle a fellow rebel and refugee to the edge of the Capitol. Of course she'd be at the party that acted as the rendezvous point; Chiasa's beloved nephew, Marcus, who also happened to be his protégé played the host. What he didn't expect was her rolling up her sleeves to help, offering to use her fashion know-how to disguise refugees. He certainly didn't expect to have Fulvia poke her head into his office the next day to say Chiasa was on the line and seemed troubled. He most definitely didn't expect for her to break down in his home the next day, revealing decades of pent-up anger toward the Capitol and guilt for only reaching out now. Obviously, there was a lot more to the woman than he initially thought.

He'd invited her again two days later for a more lighthearted visit, simply wanting to know how much he was wrong about... Of course, he had to study up, remember what he'd initially noted and compare notes. Tigris was friends with her and had often said she took a lot after her father (Thankfully...) While Plutarch had never met the late Senator Lapin personally before he was assassinated, there was a lot of information on him in the rebel archives; photos, footage, speeches, letters to Tigris, anything he needed. Her father's eyes were the same shade of blue and his gaze was admittedly disarming, but without a lot of spark. He'd heard it was because he wasn't as bright, but Tigris loved to wistfully say that the kindness in his eyes was real, a rarity for a Capitolite.

Chiasa's mother was a different story... Plutarch knew Seiko better as his predecessor and mentor. She was a cold and calculating woman, and her eyes reflected that well. Dark brown, almost black, like voids, he recalled. On a good day, he remembered seeing little sparks of determination. On a bad day, they resembled black holes; icy pools of nothing sucking out the soul of any poor sap that pissed her off... Occasionally, he was said poor sap.

Chiasa was both distinct and similar to her parents. Through the glassiness during their last meeting, he saw a familiar darkness when she expressed her anger; a supernova rather than a black hole, but he was somewhat frightened nonetheless. Today, with a better view, he saw the warmth and kindness of her father. Yet... There was a certain weatheredness about her, one he'd seen among his elders and even in his own mirror. Sure, she'd taken a couple of decades off her appearance, but there was no doubt of her true age in her eyes. It was clear she'd seen so much, so many historical events, so much pain and suffering that she felt powerless to stop.

"Plutarch?" she asked, snapping him out of his analysis.

"Yes?"

"You'd said I'd be able to stay for dinner, right? I really like talking with you," she said.

For once, he had nothing going on. It had been a while since he'd dined with anyone outside of obligation. A lot of his real friends were dead, busy, in hiding, or outside of the Capitol.

"I did say that..." he replied, "And the feeling is mutual."

Her eyes lit up at his acceptance and just like that, she'd shed about twenty years off her lifetime. While Chiasa was known in a lot of circles to be the life of the party, he couldn't remember if he'd seen this kind of pure joy from her. Maybe he should be flattered that he evoked such a feeling out of her. He certainly felt the heat rising in his cheeks at the thought, and all hope of her not notcing was shattered by her rather melodic giggle.

"Why Plutarch, you're awfully cute when you blush," she complimented.

As if that wouldn't make him blush even more...

2. Her Confidence

Most people who knew of Chiasa Lapin knew she had a bit of a... reputation. Sadly, that was par for the course for women like her who never married and just dated around. Plutarch should have expected certain things out of her, but he was quickly reminded that hearing about something and actually experiencing it were two different things.

As much as he liked planning for all possibilities, Plutarch didn't expect her invitation to her New Year's Eve party would end with them kissing in her room away from the masses. Neither of them had that much to drink, nor were they lightweights. She knew exactly what she wanted when she proposed the reigning in tradition. He wasn't sure what possessed him to accept sp easily; perhaps it was how she looked in that handmade red floral kimono and her dark hair elegantly pinned up, as if she stepped out of an ancient painting. Maybe it was scientific curiosity. It was logical to assume with all her experience, she had to be good. For the record, she was... Not a lot of kisses in his lifetime had him still thinking about her and longing for days.

Then again, perhaps it was how she wasn't afraid to go for what she wanted. The meeker ladies weren't really Plutarch's taste, agreeing with him rather than standing by what they wanted, he wanted substance. Chiasa had quickly proven not to be like them. During their second kiss, he'd felt her try to climb onto his lap. Maybe they could have taken things further if her harpy of a sister didn't knock and interrupt. Even when he left, she wished him sweet dreams of all thing. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, how frustrated he'd be that night.

It was cunning of her to offer to make him something, that way, he didn't need to come up with any excuses for her to come over again, or shoo away rumor mongers. Although... she'd outright admitted she'd wanted to spend more time with him. Her subtlety needed work... Although that could have just been more of her confidence shining through, as it certainly did when she finally visited again.

When working with a new designer, measurements were an early order of business. Chiasa opted for an old fashioned measuring tape for a more intimate experience. He sure was wise to the lingering touches on his waist, chest, and arms as well as her warm breath on the back of his neck. He was a gentleman... He couldn't bring himself to have his way with her immediately. That mini skirt and plunging red top didn't help things either...

If her mother was alive, she would have gutted him for thinking like this about her "ignorant" daughter... But Seiko wasn't here, nor did she have power over him anymore. She'd be absolutely furious at how he'd laid a hand on Chiasa and not be able to do anything about it... And there was that scientific curiosity once again. It wasn't just her kissing skills that had Chiasa infamous... He just had to know what was fact or fiction.

It was still up to Chiasa in the end, and thankfully, she caught the smirk forming on his face as she faced him.

"You know, Plutarch..." she purred, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

"What a coincidence," he couldn't help but tease as he ran a hand through her hair, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either."

She leaned in closer and smirked back at him.

"Really now.... I've been thinking about what could have been... What could have happened if we weren't so rudely interrupted, just wondering a few things, " she whispered, "Would we have stayed as we were? Or would you have been on top of me? Would we want to savor each other, really explore each other, or would you want it fast and rough? Would you use that beautiful voice to moan, growl... Both?"

She brushed her lips against his neck and he managed to stifle a moan. Damn was she brazen... He felt his own hand moving down her back, but he stopped himself at her waist.

"No need to stop..." she encouraged, "You've helped me so much over the past few days... But you seem so stressed and lonely too. Trust me... I know a lot of ways to soothe a man... I always thought you were attractive, but being a rebel... Well, that's even hotter."

Plutarch had to admit, it was refreshing to hear an authority on beauty praise his "natural" appearance over the eldrich enhancements of the Capitol masses. He was right where he wanted... This fascinating woman in his arms, one that would make his late mentor scream up at him from hell, one that was practically begging him to take her and make her his... Wait.

"I have been looking for some relief, and company..." he replied, "But you should know, I don't have the time or space for a long term commitment right now."

Chiasa held back a laugh and teasingly pecked his lips. "Who said anything about commitment? I just want to have a little fun..."

"Well... Fun is my job, after all."

There. A bullshit free proposition, just as he liked them, and a hallmark of mature women like her. Yet at the same time, she didn't dress her age, nor look it, nor certain screw like a woman her age. She certainly had nothing to be ashamed of when she'd draped herself on her side to face them after they'd finished. Having spent her youthful years in the 20s ADD, it wasn't hard to imagine her taking a puff from a cigarette or joint to recover. That satisfaction and fire in her eyes, however, was all reality.

"Well, well... You've been holding out on me, Heavensbee," she purred.

Plutarch really shouldn't have blushed again, certainly not after what just transpired, but was it ever worth it to hear that giggle again. Chiasa was right all along, he did feel more relaxed than he ever had the past few months.

"Aww, you have nothing to be embarrassed about... Believe me," she added, reaching over to stroke his arm.

"It's been a while..." he admitted, "I forgot what this felt like."

"You'd have to have been busy," she concluded, "I'm surprised more people aren't throwing themselves at you... I'm definitely here for a good time, and we've established I have no concealed weapons, or wires... You were very thorough in your search."

Ugh, a line taken straight from his dreams.

"We have to do this again sometime," he replied with a smirk.

They came up with a certain arrangement; Chiasa would get a burner so they could communicate undetected, no feelings or other complications neither had time for, they'd fool around and talk to sate each other's stress and loneliness. Simple enough... Both had similar arrangements with others in the past without issues. It should have been that simple...

3. Her Stories

Plutarch was a known history buff; even when he was simply Seiko’s right hand man, one of his favorite duties was curation. The rebel archive had more banned documents, pictures, films, and stories than the secret government archive could hope for. He could spend hours just reading and watching the past.

The only thing better than studying was talking to real people about their experiences. The Capitol's history books were to be taken with a grain of salt, being mostly propaganda. Many of Plutarch's elders were amused by his curiosity about the past, but were nonetheless happy to share a few tales, and Chiasa, being a fair bit older than him, was no exception.

Maybe it was a little different... She was certainly the first to lounge on his bed in a negligee at most while sipping coffee or giving him a scalp massage while telling him stories. Even though she was younger than the likes of Tigris and Seiko, she brought a unique perspective of the ineffable postwar Dark Days. She spoke of her beloved father's service, and confirmed Tigris's assurances that Seiko was a different person back then, and before her sister became such an insufferable gossip. There was one story in particular that made him chuckle, one that involved one of his more insufferable relatives...

"So... You kicked him?" he confirmed, "You kicked Uncle Hilarius in the shin?"

"I was only a kid," she defended, "And he was sure Lucy Gray wouldn't survive because she was a small girl... Emphasis on the girl part. My parents agreed with me that he should have kept his mouth shut, but I still had to be punished..."

"Well... Knowing him, he probably deserved it," he said.

What a time to be alive in that controversial year, and still have the wonder of childhood. What an opportunity to hear about it... Tigris and Seiko had a more mature perspective, and it was impossible to get anything out of President Snow.

As time went on, Chiasa's stories became more vulnerable, and Plutarch remembered an important life lesson. Growing up patrician and joining the rebels had taught him that not everything was as it seemed. During her early years as a stylist, that "mental breakdown" was actually a stint in rehab to kick a party drug habit. She'd started using to cope with her guilt regarding her tributes, but had been encouraged to get help when she found out she was pregnant with her first child. Thankfully, she'd been clean for a long time, but still carried little candies in her purse in case she ever got the urge again.

Another of her stories was the real paternity of her second child, her son. It was a closely guarded secret, and Plutarch felt a sense of pride that she trusted him this much. It was one of her victors, Link Zhou, a now older man from District 3. Plutarch recalled him as one of the first male victors to be sold, and she couldn't even look him in the eye when she told him the story. Chiasa was Link's stylist, and her relief at a living tribute faded when she found out what they were going to do to him. She'd bid to be his first and it was all kosher; Link had a crush on her and he was of age, yet she still felt like she'd violated him. She felt she couldn't give up her son in any way, and thankfully her reputation with men saved them all from any suspicion.

He heard her sobbing as she'd finished, still facing away from him. He turned her, and her tears and pained expression broke his heart... She would have made a damn good agent if she'd joined up. When it came to her addiction, she was regretful, but matter of fact. Now, however, she was ashamed to even exist.

"I... I thought you'd be disgusted with me," she whispered.

He found himself wiping her tears away and wrapped her in an embrace.

"No... You did what you thought was right for the both of them, even if the law said otherwise. That's very noble," he said, "Hell, I think it would be rich of me of all people to judge you for doing something you regret for the greater good."

It was true... There were certain aspects of his plans that he didn't take pleasure in, but nonetheless, they had to be considered and done. His personal feelings often didn't matter.

Speaking of feelings... He couldn't let go of her that night. Chiasa's ceasing her crying and easing herself so quickly in his arms had him feeling some type of way... Like important? Like a hero? When he'd initially guessed that her son's father was some abusive asshole, he was ready to ruin that hypothetical man's life in a second. Protecting her used to be a simple means to an end; to avoid a needless casualty at his expense, and for Marcus's sake... He wouldn't be too happy with his beloved aunt in danger. Now, though... the thought of Chiasa being hurt or in distress caused Plutarch real pain. She didn't deserve that... Logically, she'd been through too much.

"Plutarch... Thank you," she murmured, "You're really, truly... such a wonderful man..."

Damn... He was used to being compliments on his achievements, but coming from her... He didn't know his heart was capable of swelling like that. It had to be because she meant it instead of just trying to kiss his ass... It had to be.

4. Her Wisdom

Naturally, Plutarch was a thinker. People had described him as brilliant, and they'd be right. Chiasa might not have been an intellectual like him, but she was so much more than Seiko and the general public made her out to be. Then again, if anyone reached her age or had her experiences without learning a thing, they'd be an idiot. She was so much more stimulating than the average Capitolite, and not just in the physical way.

One day, as Chiasa placed her hand over his, Plutarch couldn't help but notice her nails. They were red and gold, as the current trends, but the gold designs were inconsistent. Actually, he could have sworn that they were simply red and chipped the last time they were together, and the gold seemed to fill in the gaps.

"Didn't take you for a hand guy, Plutarch," she teased.

"No, I'm just curious about these... Is this some kind of abstract art?"

She smiled sheepishly, then moved her gaze to their now entwined hands.

"Are you familiar with the practice of kintsugi?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied, "Your mother taught me a few words of your old tongue, but I'm not familiar with that one."

"Well... It's the practice of repairing ceramics with gold," she explained, "I like to think of it as a metaphor... We all have flaws, we've all known hard times, but they make us all the more beautiful."

How true... The cookie cutter perfection the Capitol pushed was unattainable, and people who thought they achieved it were liars or at least still highly flawed. Actually, it worked for Panem as a whole. The Districts were beautiful in their adversity and strength. Then there was Chiasa, who persevered through her rough patches, making her into the woman he... was fascinated by.

"Sounds like someone I know," he teased, squeezing her hand.

"I guess..." she replied, blushing a little, "It's always been comforting to me. With everything going on, it was a reminder that I'd come back better. I drew and painted with it as an inspiration. When Daddy died, my first collection afterward was centered around it. Hell, I considered a tattoo a few times, but then I'd have to coordinate outfits around it.

What an interesting idea... Although she was beautiful as she was, it would sure make a statement, even as something temporary, even just makeup. There weren't a lot of visible scars on her body for him to trace; most of them were in her mind. Good enough....

He kissed her forehead and murmured, "In all seriousness, that's a beautiful way of thinking."

Chiasa shut her eyes and let out a contented sigh. However, she wasn't quite done philosophizing yet. She let go of his hand and cupped his face, flashing an alluring, yet sincere smile.

"Plutarch, have I ever told you why I think you're handsome?"

Maybe she'd said a few things in the moment, but it was always hard to tell if anything stuck in that state.

"Because you look like a person," she said, "A real person, not anything they're trying to sell. That boyish grin of yours, your salt and paprika hair... All you, all beautiful."

She paused to rest her forehead against his, evoking said grin until she went in for a brief kiss before continuing.

"Maybe I'm a hypocrite... It's not purely genes that have me looking and thriving this way. But... I don't know. Maybe it's a reflection of you as a person. You're not trying so hard to fit in, you're unapologetic and comfortable in your own skin without being obnoxious about it. I love seeing that in people... Especially men."

She was simply stating a fact. Women like her didn't have time for insecure man-children. She still had a way of complimenting him that caught him off guard. He simply wasn't used to a beautiful woman gushing about how attractive his quiet confidence and idealism were.

"Chiasa, that's... very observant, very kind," he managed.

She giggled. "Well, okay, maybe there are some shallow things too... Everyone knows bigger guys like you are better to lay with... And just better in bed altogether. And I just love freckles... I'm going to sound so cliche, but they're like little stars that just happen to adorn people instead of the sky."

She proceeded to pepper kisses across his cheeks and nose before moving to his chin and jaw, then down his neck.

"Chiasa... What are you doing?"

"I want to kiss all your freckles..."

"Well... It's a good thing we have all night."

The experience was strangely intimate and vulnerable, despite them being familiar with each other by then. Maybe it was how it all tied in... How something perceived as a flaw made him all the more beautiful.

5. Her Joie de Vivre

Idealism was Plutarch's, well, ideal, but cynicism was reality. With all the good he wanted to do, he still lost people, things still went wrong, and sometimes, it was hard to even find joy in the little things. While Chiasa was a cynic in her own way, it was a survival mechanism more than anything. Still, she was so much better at living in the moment. It was all she could do to cope with the world.

The Groundbreaking used to be a patriotic occasion to celebrate the powering of a new arena. Nowadays, it was Gamemaker Mardi Gras; one last day of letting loose before getting to work. Admittedly, he'd always wanted to throw the themed party, an honor reserved for the Head Gamemaker, and "Retro" made sense with the rise of rationing. At least his older colleagues were excited... As was Chiasa. She'd recycled an old, very sheer dress from the second Quarter Quell and adorned herself in glitter as they'd done in the twenties. She was teasing him on purpose...

It wasn't until after the bash that the real fun began. As fun as hosting was at times, it could be exhausting... The leftover confetti and empty glasses almost looked depressing in the blacklight until he felt Chiasa's hand on his shoulder. When he turned around, she ran her hands down his lapels... Of course he couldn't resist wearing her special creation: a jacket decorated in a forties style brocade pattern with extra pockets, simply to be thoughtful. Normally, they were gold to fit the current trends, but she used a special dye to make the patterns appear his favorite shade of purple under blacklight.

"You're looking gorgeous tonight," she purred, "If I do say so myself."

He was quick to pull her into an embrace. "And what were you thinking with that dress... What was your plan? To torture me with our dirty little secret? Having all those other men vying for a dance or drink or more?

"Too bad for them, it was always going to be you at the end of the night," she said, kissing his neck, "Actually... We never had a proper dance, did we? At least now... We don't have to be so formal with each other."

As much as it staved off suspicion, one dance couldn't hurt. Now was a better setting than the party anyway. He started to get in position for a waltz before she stopped him.

"I told you we don't have to be formal, sweetie... That's what a waltz is. I've always enjoyed the rhumba... Less stiff, more sensual."

"I haven't done that since my twenties," he replied sheepishly, "And even then I wasn't that good."

"Aww, that's okay," she reassured him, "It's just us right now. Besides... I know what those hips are capable of... I'm sure if you put your mind to it, you can."

Plutarch was still awful, but it didn't seem to matter to Chiasa. She matched his exaggerated moves and they were soon laughing together. How he needed this, how wonderful life seemed when she was with him... When he easily dipped her and they met in a kiss before heading to his bedroom.

District 13, while a refuge, was a dreary place. No color, no fun, no culture... No Chiasa. Not that he was demotivated, in fact, quelling her worries and tears only gave him more reason to work toward a free Panem. It didn't make him miss her any less, and regret less about not fighting harder to take her with him.

"You know what I miss the most?" he'd said to Katniss one day.

He recalled one lazy, stormy morning, when Chiasa was able to stay for breakfast. It was nothing fancy; eggs over easy for him, poached for her, and toast and coffee for both. Chiasa was in a silk nightgown and curled up on his lap, while he was in a robe that used to gather dust as well as the glasses he barely wore in public. They were simply enjoying each other's company and watching the storm unfold.

Chiasa gasped as a bolt of lightning struck a building in the distance. "It's amazing how something so destructive, dangerous, powerful... can be so beautiful."

"That's just nature, Chiasa," he said, "Believe me, I know a lot about it..."

It would be even more beautiful when it signaled the start of the revolution... Maybe she'd always remember it that way.

"Yes, and how the rain can cause so many problems, but gives life, and makes a lovely sound," she said, "And that smell after a storm..."

"Petrichor."

"Oooh... I didn't know there was a word for it."

He snuck a look at her as she watched the storm go on. Why was she so damned beautiful when she was fascinated... Somehow, she'd grown even more attractive since their initial meeting. Perhaps it was her words, her artist's or wise mind.

"What?" she teased.

Plutarch was saved by a loud clap of thunder that had the pair clinging to each other.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," he said.

"I'M protecting YOU," she teased.

They met for a kiss. They had coffee breath, but it didn't matter.... It made the moment feel real.

"Plutarch?" Katniss interrupted, "What did you miss?"

Right, Plutarch was still in District 13, and he'd forgotten that Katniss and Marcus were in the room with him. He couldn't tell the truth in front of him... Not while they were stuck together in a bunker anyway.

"Coffee," Plutarch half lied.

Katniss seemed to believe him, but Marcus was skeptical as they both left for the next item on their schedule.

"No, really, what do you miss?" the boy asked, "Nobody's wistful about coffee in the afternoon."

"Let's get back to work, shall we?" Plutarch deflected.

Marcus rolled his eyes, but didn't ask any more. However, though, he seemed to try to elicit something out of him.

"If it matters, I miss my auntie," he said, "Even if the lack of color would have given her a stroke."

Plutarch nodded, seemingly in acknowledgement, but actually in agreement. Chiasa would have found a way to brighten things up. He knew very well the real reason he missed her....

1. Her Kindness

True kindness was a rarity in the Capitol. Nobody was ever just "nice," they always had to want something. Many were simply fair weather, disappearing the moment life got tough. Only a handful of people he knew were kind, many of him his allies... Others just naive. Then there was Chiasa, who was neither an active rebel nor naive about the world.

It should have been a simple arrangement... Chiasa didn't outright say she wanted more, and she was the type to do so. It was nearly summer when he admitted it to himself, and he needed to seek advice from the one person who'd understand and not tease him, Tigris.

He'd kept her filled in on how things were going, as she was a mutual friend and Chiasa would be saved the trouble of coming up with a lie. But now, he told her the whole story, and she only sighed and shook her head with a smile.

"It gets you, that kind of heart," said Tigris, "I know... When you've lived a life full of expectations and without love, that one person who shows you compassion, thinks you're a person worth knowing and loving. You know... Her father was the same way."

That was why Tigris was the best person to ask... She'd had a secret relationship with Tak Lapin before he was killed, that Seiko had allowed. Tigris was right... Every step of the way, Chiasa wanted to know him, and allowed herself to be vulnerable... Allowed him to be vulnerable.

When Plutarch was feeling the loss of an old friend, and couldn't contain himself any longer, she let him have a rare cry on her shoulder, no ridicule, no begging him to be strong. He was another human to her, another person to cherish and comfort. He remembered asking her why she showed him such unconditional care. It was only right, she'd said, that she cared about him.

The night of the interviews was their last opportunity to be together, and the chaos that Peeta caused with his "baby bomb" only helped her sneak over. Unfortunately, one final preparation had gone awry, and after getting socked in the jaw, he had to hunker down. Some of his other agents agreed to fix it, but he was feeling the weight of the pain... And the guilt of having to leave Chiasa behind.

The minute he'd shown himself, she ordered the remaining avox to fetch some ice and vinegar. The next thing he knew, he was on a sofa with her pressing ice against his jaw.

"Don't clench, you'll make it worse," she admonished, "What happened?"

"Mishap," he reassured her, "It'll be fixed.... You're still here."

"Of course I'm still here.... Do you not want me here?" she hesitantly asked.

"No, of course I want you here," he replied, "I'm... ah... I'm just wondering why you're still here... I'm leaving you, Chiasa, I can't believe you agreed."

"Oh, Plutarch...."

She embraced him with her free arm, sniffling, but trying to keep her composure.

"I know it's for a good cause... I know this is bigger than us, I.... I really admire you for this," she managed.

"I wish you could come with me..." he murmured, "I know you can help... I wish I could be sure you won't be in danger."

"I'm tougher than I look, honey... And I never blamed you, never ever. Oh, Plutarch... Just promise me you'll come back in one piece. You know I'll be right here...."

They sat in silence, just holding each other for what seemed like eternity. When he saw her face again, he thought he saw a few tear streaks down her made up face, but she quickly wiped them away.

"If you want to just hold each other tonight, that's okay..."

"No, Chiasa.... I don't know how long I'll be gone," he murmured, "I need to commit you to memory."

Even with his bruised jaw, that last night mind-blowing, both wanting to forget it would be the last... for a while if things went right. The next morning was pure agony; they'd stared at each other, almost daring each other to drop the L-bomb, but neither could. It didn't seem like the right time.... He was a damned idiot, it could have been another regret.

While Plutarch was kept busy and motivated, there were times when he'd miss her the most. The nights were the loneliest, when he'd wish for her to be waiting in his compartment, even just her reassuring voice. Then there was Finnick and Annie's wedding, when love was in the air. He'd gotten into it like most projects, but it felt different... Maybe he was projecting a little... But at least it made him surprisingly helpful with the vows. He had to focus during the final battle... It was crucial in capturing the Capitol, but he couldn't dare look to see if Chiasa was among the panicked masses.

The day of the execution was cathartic for everyone... Even though Coin was initially killed first. What did it matter, she was bad for the rest of Panem and he had a plan to get rid of her if Katniss hadn't taken action. Snow was finally dead, of course, and the era of suffering was over... Yes, there was still a lot of work to be done, but the people deserved to have their hope.

Of course, it was also the day he finally saw Chiasa again, on the steps of the presidential palace with Marcus. He'd certainly be in for a surprise, but he'd adjust... Plutarch did have a soft spot for the kid.

Within seconds, she was back in his arms. It didn't matter that there was more gray and silver in her hair than he remembered, and she was dressed down, he was just happy to be with her again. As was she, and from her very first words to him, he knew she had the same regrets.

"Plutarch… I love you!"

He wouldn't be an idiot this time.

"I love you too, Chiasa," he said, holding her tightly.

The future was bright… The revolution was successful, freedom was within reach, and he was finally going to shape a new world with her by his side. So it went… He didn't need to remain a confirmed bachelor to change the world; in his studies, most of the greats had their greatest loves by their side, and he would be no different. George had Martha. John had Abigail. James had Dolley. Winston had Clementine. Now, Plutarch had Chiasa.

[batwingsrosa]

The ballad of songbirds and snakes- a tragedy

(I have only started to read the book and will not address it here. I will only be talking about the movie. I will not take Coriolanus‘s inner monologue into account here.)

The hunger games/The ballad of songbirds and snakes is almost the most tragic of the movies to me.

There is something so … heartbreaking and tragic about seeing little Coryo become the Snow we new from the other movies.

It‘s like we are in Tigris shoes.

We watch a little boy grow up. We watch a little boy who had to witness his neighbour eating his maid‘s leg during a war in order to not starve to death.

We see a little boy who is orphaned due to the war.

We watch a little boy grow up.

Grow up to be a monster.

Another thing that is so incredibly tragic is that you know the ending to his story.

You know what he will eventually become.

And still, i think, many of us viewers found ourselves rooting for him at some point.

I was rooting for him. For him and Lucy Gray.

Against all odds i wanted him to find his own happy ending.

The ending was inevitable.

And still i wanted him to choose a different path.

I still believed in his humanity. In his goodness.

As Lucy Grey says: „There is a natural goodness built into us all.“

Almost until the very end of the movie i thought he might be able to choose a different path.

When i watched this movie i saw something unbelievably tragic.

I witnessed how trauma and a destructive society can kill a soul.

I saw a soul decay before my eyes.

I witnessed the moral decay of a human being.

I saw how all the goodness and kindness that was still left in him was erased for good.

How a soul chose to erase itself.

We see a little boy who has to fight to survive.

We see a teenager who fights the evil inside him.

Who tries to not succumb to it.

We see a boy who loses the fight within himself.

And of course all of it is tragic. The games are tragic. Katnis story is tragic. All of it is.

But the most tragic thing for me to witness was to see the goodness and humanity that is built into us all be reduced to nothing but ash.

To witness the death of a soul.

„There is a natural goodness built into us all.

You can either cross that line into evil, or not.

It is our life‘s work to stay on the right side of that line.“ - Lucy Gray Baird