Tbosbas - Blog Posts

Spoilers ahead!

Okay I finally got to watch the movie on Saturday and I've had time to process.

The brutality of the deaths really showed how horrific it was for both the Capitol and the Districts at the time. And slowly sensationalizing the games was portrayed really well. Lucky Flickerman was the forefront of the desensitization within the Capitol.

Hunter Schafer was amazing as Tigress, she was truly eye-catching and her last line in the move was...rough to say the least. I was genuinely heartbroken for her, after all her efforts to make sure Coriolanus didn't go down the dark path, it's the utter defeat when she said the line.

Rachel and Tom have amazing chemistry, just like the books, I was rooting for them until the second portion of the 3rd act. Would definitely petition for them to star in a RomCom or something just happier.

Josh gave the most wonderfully heart-breaking performance as Sejanus, I have no notes.

The songs are a bop, and next time I read the book again, 100% reading it with them in mind.

The foreshadowing of Katniss throughout the movie was awesome to see. Also Snow being left with his thoughts for two seconds and having a complete meltdown is so on brand.

The fashion of the Capitol was so wild to see, as they were dressed so "normal" like you would instantly be like "I would wear that," in contrast to the original trilogy shows how vapid and vile the Capitol became x2. Cause the classism and elitist mentality is already there.

Things I wish were added:

The first kiss the night before the games, I think for me it was both a emotional point, as these two have been bonding and falling for each other slowly, they might never see each other and I feel like it should've stayed.

Just more Clemmie in general.

I don't know why I jus really would've like to see Snow and the Covey interacting. Especially him and Maude Ivory more.

But overall this movie was amazing, and I felt a wave of nostalgia hit when I was watching it. Being immersed back into this world, and its complexities. And today my sister and I watched the first hunger games movies again, and I was just thinking about all the parallels, genuinely so cool and well done.

Another rant.

In a sense I do believe that Snow did love Lucy Gray, but I saw this tiktok talk about how it isn't a love story, it's a tragedy. I have to agree, because Snow was given so many chances to choose the good path, he had people that genuinely believe in him. Tigris, Lucy Gray and Sejanus but Snow is so emotionally stunted and not willing to progress. (At least from my view that's what I concluded)

So many times throughout the book I caught myself smiling or laughing at something he said. And I literally would be like "wtf" but Suzanne Collins is such a genius writer like that, and like a broken clock I'll repeat, she wrote this book so well that, I was genuinely forgetting that this young man will become a man I will hate and wish death upon.

Reading the original trilogy as a pre-teen I never truly understood the gravity of Snow's evil and watching the movies again recently with context from the book, made so many little actions and lines hold more weight.

I hate over-analysing books because of English in school, but books like this remind me why I love to read and get lost in worlds that are are different but the same.

I'm rambling but this book and this whole franchise has been on my mind for a while and I need a creative outlet.

In the end "Snow lands on top" a rant

I just finished the book, and people are right, you actively find yourself rooting for Snow, for a split second you completely forget who he is, who he is to become. You want him to be a good person, the moment I knew his humanity was faltering was when he killed Mayfair and Billy Taupe. He excused it as protecting Sejanus and Lucy Gray, but at the root of it, Coriolanus Snow is a product of Capitol brainwashing and taught to dehumanize the people of the districts.

He's so complex and fucked up and sociopathic and Olivia's song is a perfect encapsulation of Lucy Gray, AND Sejanus Plinth haunting him for the rest of his life. Snow can pretend and poison and erase the memory of them but people with unfinished business tend to come back to finish it.

I had refused to read the last chapter holding it off, cause I already saw the mental change in Snow's character, I was invested but I knew my heart will be broken. Because we only ever knew her through Snow's lens; Lucy Gray Baird's fate forever a mystery, just like her life.

Thank you for reading this mini rant, I'll probably rant again after a while.

Just finished The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. What blows me away is how Coryo has all the influences for him to become worse and to become better.

Here's what I mean, he's a mentor, so he has a close view of the games, which could make him more sympathetic with the districts or more cruel to them.

He writes the papers for Dr Gaul and talks with her a lot, their interactions could have made him more pro or more anti Capitol.

Dean Highbottom resents the Snows, which makes coryo anti-whatever-highbottom-believes, but hearing about the origin of the games could have changed his mind.

Sejanus, Tigris, and Lucy are all anti-capitol and they are the greatest influences in his personal life.

Spending time in D12 could have made him sympathize with the people that are the same as Capitol people, but instead he becomes more pro-capitol.

But as the first chapter makes very clear, he's out for personal success. It foreshadows everything. At the beginning he has some sympathy for the tributes but sees them as pawns for his own success. At any point, he had the catalysts in place for him to become anti-capitol. The conversations and family and friends. He could have been.

can i call you rose?

⤷ peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!reader: coriolanus and you celebrate your anniversary, slow dancing as you reminisce about the time you met.

The Covey sang softly, a sweet ballad that Coriolanus had written for your anniversary with Coriolanus. It had been a year since you’d met here in the hub, and every moment since then had felt like a dream.

You met Coryo on a drunken night and remember dancing wildly and letting loose on a hot Saturday night. Not a care in a world, as the music moved you. Amid your festivities, a body crashed into you, causing moonshine to spill on your shirt and the stranger who stood before you. Despite the mishap, his eyes captivated you like a bright pool of water, drawing you in. It was the first thing that caught your attention, even before you noticed his distinct accent, unlike any you had heard from District 12.

"Watch your step, pretty lady," he said with a charming smile, his voice conveying mystery and allure. Coriolanus didn’t have the twang in his voice that the locals had. Your palms began to sweat at the realization that you had spilled your drink on a Peacekeeper. But Coriolanus kept his hands steady on your waist with his alluring smile.

“Shit! I didn’t mean to-. I’m so sorry, sir,” you stuttered.

Coriolanus had been nothing but a gentleman and laughed softly at how quickly you transformed into such a timid thing.

He ignored your apology and replied, “May I have this dance?”

Coriolanus pulled you out of your trance when he peppered small kisses along your jawline down to your neck as he swayed with you along with the melody.

“Coryo-“

“Shhh, listen to the lyrics. I wrote them special for you.” Coryo held you close to him, and you could feel his steady heartbeat against your chest. Remaining in the moment, you focused on the words that The Covey sang.

“Can I call you Rose?

Cause you're sweet like a flower in blue

Can I call you Rose?

Cause your fragrance takes over the room

Darling, I wanna plant you in my heart, oh

So love can grow

Can I call you Rose?

Cause your thorns won't let blood in too soon

Can I call you Rose?

Cause your roots have the power to consume me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as the euphemism within the song hit its poignant note. Speechless, you watched as Coriolanus gingerly pulled away, his piercing crystal blue eyes locking with yours—two souls connected in a wordless exchange, foreheads pressed in a tender moment of silent understanding.

“I love you,” he whispered. Coriolanus slid down onto one knee and took out the silver compact with an engraved rose on it. Revealing the prettiest ring that you had ever seen.

“Will you marry me?”

navigation

Hunger Games fanfic blurb:

I sipped the last of my water, slow as I could, hoping it would tide me awhile through the heat of the Hobb. Business was slow today. Not that we make much on other days, selling trinkets and scraps of metal and cloth in a district where most people could barely buy bread. But we scrape by.

But today, I hadn't a single body come by to look at the wares. Although, I s'pose, when you've got a Reaping tomorrow, you're probably not in a buying sorta mood. Even Greasy Sae is selling her stew for half price today for the youngins that usually come around to her corner.

Speaking of the youngins, one of them walks my way. The one with stern eyes who brings fresh game from the woods. The butcher's wife says she hunts 'em with a bow and her arrows never miss the mark. Must be nice to have a useful trade like that. Sometimes, she trades me berries for balls of yarn. That's probably what she's making her way over for.

Never got her name. I call her "Stern Eyes" and word around the Seam is she sings like a songbird. My Gammy Maude would've liked that. She gives me berries wrapped in cloth, and I give her the yarn. But she doesn't walk away.

She reaches her hand into one of the boxes, the one with old pins for hair and clothes that might've been pretty once but had gotten rusty and dusty since. Then she pulls out that pin. Gammy Maude's pin that used to belong to her friend. The friend with bad luck in love and even worse in life. Some say she ran away, and some say got shot in the woods by her lover. Gammy said her friend used to sing too. Like a songbird.

Gammy never liked that pin much. Said it never brought nothing but bad luck. I think it just reminded her too much of her friend and the lover who might've shot her. But she still kept the pin till she died. Guess reminders are still reminders.

It's a mockingjay pin. Might be gold, but it's too old and grimy to tell. Could've sold it for scrap metal, but after hearing Gammy's stories, I could never bring myself to melt the damn thing down. And it's not like I could just walk up to the fancy parts of town with a mockingjay pin to sell. The peacekeepers would have cuffed me before I could quote a price. Probably really is bad luck anyway.

Stern Eyes is holding the pin and askin how much. I think of asking for a couple of coins, and then I remember the Reaping. She's probably young enough to have her name in the bowl. More than a couple of times, like every Seam kid. I wonder if it'd bring bad luck to her too. Or maybe it'd bring her good luck. If I'm being honest, I just want the pin gone. Can't keep holding on to a thing like that.

I tell her she can take it. No charge. Can't ask people to pay you for what could be bad luck. Don't know why she picked that one, but I wonder if she knows anything about the last songbird who had it.

I really hope it brings her better luck than Gammy's friend.

Writer's note: I know this isn't accurate to the books where Katniss gets the pin from Madge and the pin isn't really mentioned in TBOSAS. But I remember she gets it in the Hobb in the movie and it does make an appearance in the prequel movie as well. Soooo, that's where this idea came from!

You know what's really ironic when it comes to Coriolanus Snow? It's the fact that according to The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, he garners attention and approval and finally mentorship under Dr. Gaul by pushing the idea of balancing humanity and spectacle in the hunger games. Make the tributes human enough to get attention and get people invested in the games. But make them spectacle enough that people don't look deep enough to question the games themselves. Make the competition human enough that people will pick sides and pour money. But make it spectacle enough that they don't protest their side losing.

It's the idea that paves his rise to power. But it's also the same thing that brings about his downfall. The spectacle of the hunger games gave a front and center platform to a naive but defiant girl from District Twelve to become the face of a revolution and the ultimate weapon against him. The measured humanity that he urged into the games got people to trust her word, trust her very image in ways that Snow had never anticipated. The balanced wielding of humanity and spectacle that Lucy Gray used to win her games is what Katniss used to end them, both enabled by Snow.

And here's the final kicker- the reason his brutally brilliant plan failed him in the end was because of the one thing Snow never took seriously enough to consider. The Districts. Snow had keen insight into how the people of the Capitol worked and thought. It allowed him to manipulate many of them. But he dismissed the role of the districts as inconsequential in the larger play of things. As long as they were kept suppressed, it didn't matter. And that's where his oversight cost him. He didn't consider the effects of the same humanity and spectacle when perceived by the districts. He didn't see how he was giving them the spark they were always looking for until the match had already been lit. The girl was already on fire. The Capitol was already burning. The snow was already melting.

this whole hunger games renaissance is giving me dracotok flashbacks because why are we once again simping for the bad guy with bleached hair and more importantly why has the society ONCE AGAIN devided into two groups: the people that "can change him" and the people that ship him with the brown haired guy that just wanted to help everyone???

so i was sceptical about the new snow white but then i listened to "balcony scene(tonight)" from west side story and are you fucking kidding me?? rachel zegler sounds like a literal disney princess like i don't care about anything else anymore she's PERFECT

i was so confused when lucy gray actually ran from snow and for a split second i was hoping she'd come back even tho i knew how terrible of a person he was and it just made me realise how brainwashed we are and used to girls in romance books/movies always ignoring all the red flags and almost willingly getting manipulated. and i know i'd be real mad if she didn't run— i'd be disappointed but (unfortunately) not surprised and yet for a split second i got mad and disappointed when she did run too. i guess what i'm trying to say is we really should normalise RUNNING and quite literally disappearing in the woods when a man is being sus no matter how hot he is. in this essay i will—

might fuck around and pull a lucy gray

the term ‘peacekeeper’ left a bitter taste in sejanus’s mouth. something in contrast to the gumdrops he used to carry around as fresh meat in the capitol. he recognized the irony of the two words strung together in panem’s climate, and thought it to be completely ridiculous. this isn’t the occupation he wanted to spend his days in district 12 pursuing, but he needed to start somewhere. dreams of becoming a medic bloom inside him, and he is optimistic both he and the blond he followed outside the capitol will live out the rest of their lives in contentment. in doing good. in change.

the cup in sejanus’s hand feels light, and he plays around with it as he watches coriolanus’s expression change from anticipation, to shock, then a third thing he can’t quite place, but can only discern due to the way the shaven blond clenches his jaw, as the covey’s performance commences at the hob.

the audience cannot be contained as lucy gray proceeds to weave through melodies, from rhythm to rhythm, song to song, strumming her guitar and bantering with tipsy inhabitants of the hob, cheering her on and clapping to the beat. he glances at coriolanus from time to time, whose gaze on the songbird never falters, intense and burning, a ghost of a smug smile on his face as if to say, ‘yes, you’re all cheering on my girl’.

there’s a small intermission between the first and second half of the covey’s act, and sejanus finds his feet walking him to get another drink. his tolerance is somewhat average, and he figures he can at least catch up to the rest of the audience in terms of intoxication. a full day of ‘peacekeeping’ awaits him tomorrow, after all, which the brunett is absolutely dreading.

the clear liquor fills his cup, face scrunching at the strong smell wafting from it as he brings his head down to sip from the top before it trickles down to his fingers. sejanus closes his eyes to regain his composure after tasting the liquor. this wasn’t like anything he has had at the capitol. it’s too strong, too raw, and the tiniest swig has gotten his cheeks rosy and his fingertips buzzing.

he turns to walk back to the crates the other peacekeepers have settled on, but crashes into you instead, the liquid in his hand spilling somewhat, and begins to apologize profusely.

“steady there, big boy, i don’t think you should be drinkin’ more”, you giggle, bringing a hand on his shoulder to stabilize him.

“no, i—” sejanus looks up at you, his words caught in his throat as he catches your eyes. once he realizes it’s probably odd to just stare at you silently, he begins to speak again.

“uhm.. this is my second drink.” he smiles shyly, lifting his cup for you to see, as if worried that you’d doubt him.

“doesn’t look like it, but it does look like you’re enjoyin’ the show.” the brunett nods quickly in agreement, feeling himself just wanting you to continue speaking to him. “or at least that’s what it looked like from up on stage.”

sejanus takes a brief pause, this time, examining you, however accurate a tipsy person could. your golden hoop earrings, colorful eye shadow, and finally, the feathers in your hair. he doesn’t miss the way your cheeks glow under the dim lights of the hob too, and he thinks it envelops your face like a halo.

“oh you’re… performing? you’re in the covey?” the plan to go back to his seat disappears from his mind in half a second, deciding that he would much prefer standing here with you and bask in the way your voice sounds.

“awh, didn’t notice me up there? hurts…” you fake a pout, glancing down at your shoes to fight the smile growing on your face as sejanus begins to stutter nervously. “kidding, kidding. yes, darlin’, i am. just needed a drink before the next half. swear, alcohol just makes me play better.” you point at his cup, continuing, “that shit is so strong it’ll make you take back shit you never even stole.”

sejanus lets out a belly laugh, the warmth from his cheeks spreading to his chest, and he doesn’t think he can still blame it on the liquor. the thought that you noticed him in the crowd long enough to remember his face made his nape itch, and he wrestles the urge to scratch it.

“yeah, i just tried it for the first time. curious to see how tonight’ll end after this cup.” he takes another sip, this time bigger than the first, and he can’t place whether it’s because he wants to impress you or wants to get drunk faster, but the way you giggle again at his scrunched up face makes it worth it. he groans at the aftertaste almost comically, looking up at you again, brown irises barely seen from the way his soft smile reaches his eyes.

“i’m sejanus, by the way.”

you bring your hand out for a formal shake, and that too makes him laugh. he repeats your name as soon as you say it, wanting to feel the syllables on his tongue. they’re sweet. your name, like all the members of the covey, contains a specific hue, one which he’s sure he’ll always associate with you after tonight.

the dim lights flash, and he watches you turn around to give maude ivory a thumbs up.

“that’s the cue, pretty boy, gotta head back up now. cheer for me?” your tone is so entrancing, and sejanus finds himself nodding before he can even verbally reply.

“of course. louder than everybody.” with that, you flash him an enthusiastic grin. so pretty, so full of life. he walks back to the crates, now disregarding coriolanus, but understanding why his stare was so fervent on lucy gray. in a room full of people, you’re performing for him.

currently no creative juices flowing.

request anything you’d like please! i’m open to writing about any character from all 4 books :)

can i just throw something out very quickly:

firebender!coriolanus snow, who aims to become fire lord someday (using methods deemed too cunning, although he refers to himself as ‘resourceful’). he utilizes his words to beguile his peers into loyalty, saving his firebending for times that call to instill red hot fear and discipline.

coriolanus has a strong distaste towards his classmate, sejanus plinth, who he adjudges too ‘animalistic’ and ‘grotty’ to live among firebenders, yet finds the airbending nomad he is to mentor alluring and mystical. the blond especially dislikes sejanus’ foolish rambles about how he wishes to become a healer someday, as he himself knows that the minute the brunet was born an earthbender, that dream was over, so surely sejanus must know that too?

he slightly looks down on his nonbender cousin, tigris, who has truthfully kept the two of them alive through scavenging and foraging for food, sewing up intricate outfits for him to fit in with the upper class atmosphere of the academy and keep up appearances.

for his final assignment to establish himself as the star student of the academy’s senior class, he must figure out a scheme to ensure that the airbender, his airbender, is kept alive when put in an arena with 23 other tributes, some honing their bending for years. coriolanus is aware that her only way out is through cheating on his part, but won’t that deem him as a traitor? if he’s not careful, he too will find himself trapped in an arena. air can very well live on without fire, but that same fire will extinguish without the presence of air.

coriolanus snow loves in a way that is cannibalistic. it’s primal. violent. consumed by the need to devour you. he loves in a way that has him bare his teeth in perpetuity, content only when he knows he has swallowed you whole. some of it is ugly, obscene, and bestial, some of it is pure and holy and spiritual: all of it is himself.

the blonde convinces himself it’s for good. to protect you. to keep you safe. but when does protection cross the line to become control? to trap you. to keep you for himself. to know that you may never get away from all that is him, as he slowly makes you part of his own self, so much so that you begin losing your identity and your flesh knits with his.

he wants to eat you.

and the closest he can get to that is to graze his teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart. he wraps his hand around your throat, controls your breathing as he pleases. the knowledge that only he can grant you mercy. only he can give you life, or take it away. and you both know he would never choose the latter, as to consume you would mean that your being is tied with his, and wherever you go he will be forced to follow.

it’s mutual and untamed, self destructive yet passionate. the two of you clawing and biting to feel each other. a competition that dictates who swallows up who. it’s hunger that will never be satisfied, and god knows he’s no stranger to that.

as though your name is wrapped around his ribs, melting and flowing through his veins. your bones intertwined, waiting to see who will gnaw at whose heart first. there’s something dark and sinister about it, but isn’t that what devotion inevitably becomes? two lovers so feral that they seek to destroy each other.

“i cannot part with you.” he whispers, “I am you.”

and you have no choice but to be of one another for life.

[5.25pm, wip]

coriolanus. swoony type, curly hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.

above tipsy coriolanus snow was a sight to behold, rare and cartoonishly bizarre. his half lidded expression, playful grin, and most importantly, wandering hands. he can’t quite tell if he’s moderately intoxicated due to the posca he’s been mindlessly sipping on, or the feel of your warm skin against his own. the blond had not had the opportunity to develop a tolerance towards posca, as he’d much rather spend scraps of money he and tigris pull together to buy food, or at least a variation of that.

with his inhibitions out the window, he was much less guarded. less skeptical of the world around him. simply an academy student who had a little bit too much to drink, and uncharacteristically giggles at anything.

coriolanus would not normally put himself in a position where the next words out of his mouth were not thought of and analyzed thoroughly to procure the upper hand in a conversation, but he’s cursed with a nervous fidget of sipping on the contents of whatever glass he’s holding, which got him into this predicament. unaware, bashful, completely and evidently enamored by you.

political science major!coriolanus, whose idea of a night of unwinding is reading a chapter of machiavelli’s ‘the prince’ with a glass of pinot noir in hand. well versed in debate, often dramatically pulling out notecards with bullet points on them as you argue over where to have dinner.

nursing major!sejanus, who is well liked and trusted amongst his peers and professors, being known for a tenderness that you can only find in bob ross painting demonstrations. you help him study by quizzing him until dawn, a kiss for every correct answer energizing him more than any red bull could.

music performance major!lucy gray, always carrying around a honey burst colored guitar, her fingers absentmindedly strumming the air as she walks. she refers to you as her muse, and soothes you to sleep on rough nights with a hushed lullaby specifically written with confessions of love whittled between lyrics.

fashion design major!tigris, who fills out sketchbooks and sketchbooks with extravagant designs she someday hopes will hit the runway. she has appointed herself as your personal stylist, and kisses your temple as she gets your measurements for custom-made pieces.

— au where you’re reaped as sejanus plinth’s tribute from district 2, and he breaks into the arena to get his final goodbyes in.

coriolanus can see the brunette’s jaw tighten in his peripheral vision when highbottom announces that he’ll be mentoring one of the district 2 tributes. that tightness is followed by a deep, deep scowl when the reapings are aired, and your sweet, lamb-like face is shown on the now, sejanus notices, glaring screen. he has half a mind to storm out, but instead swallows thickly to fool his brain into thinking he’s calm and collected.

he remembers you, as if a remnant from a previous life. sejanus knows this is a shameful way of thinking. he’s no capitolite. they can throw as much money as they want at him, keep his stomach full and plump of steak and apple pie, give him the so called luxury of attending the academy, but he knows his name will metaphorically never leave that reaping bowl. for each year the hunger games have commenced, three names were picked from district 2. a boy’s, a girl’s, and sejanus’s. he is in that arena with them, although not physically. and that is what hurts him most. his name, although not verbally chosen and spoken into a microphone, is amongst that litter, and yet he has the privilege, like every capitolite, of leaving the arena every year when the victor is announced, when his fellow district 2 tributes do not have that option.

upon first greeting you at the capitol zoo, a stinging pang shoots through his throat. he has absolutely no idea how he’ll be able to mentor you without completely destroying himself in the process. it’s eating him up inside; this hope that the academy has indirectly forced you to place in him. how that hope, crushed, would leave as you, god forbid, would have to take your final breaths in that arena, with nothing to attach to that despair but sejanus’s face.

you’re timid at first. you too, remembered this familiar face. the big brown eyes, never dull of emotion. long, fluttering eyelashes. he’s much taller now, with curly hair that looks like raw hazelnut under the sun. with the way he’s looking at you, you figured he did not outgrow his tenderness. it was no look of pity, though, but a look of understanding. of sharing your fear, instead of accepting your fate. that made you feel a comfort you haven’t felt since standing in your district’s square.

after a few minutes of silence, of examining each other wordlessly, communicating with shared gazes, sejanus decides to speak up first, albeit everyone knowing it is his heart that speaks for him.

“i am so, so sorry for—”

he begins, but you stop him. there wasn’t a point to this, you think. unless he was the one who picked out your name specifically, why would he even feel the need to apologize? that certainly won’t change anything.

“it’s fine. it’s not your fault. i know, big elephant in the room, i’m behind bars at a zoo. the odds just weren’t in my favor. i’m not sure they will decide they like me later, either.”

sejanus clenches a hand around one of the steel bars at your pessimism, but how can he blame you? he has no hope himself, how could he even possibly think you would? he wishes he could effortlessly bend the barrier separating you two with his palms, grabbing you by the hand and running off somewhere else. somewhere safe. somewhere hopeful. he knows he can’t, and that leaves a shake in his voice as he chooses his next words delicately.

“i just… if there’s any way i could help you, guarantee that you would… walk out of there unharmed…”

“well, i saw the district 12 girl with her supposed mentor in here. inside the zoo. you’re mine, i assume? do what a mentor has to do. mentor me out… and some food won’t hurt, either.”

at the mention of that, sejanus’s face slightly lights up, and he reaches into his scarlet colored blazer pocket, taking out a wrapped napkin and handing it to you. you reach through the bars to take this mysterious item from him, fingers lingering just a bit, and unwrap it to find a sandwich, diagonally cut. you smile wistfully at the simple meal before you, this being the very first act of kindness you’ve been on the receiving end of since coming to the capitol. so much for hosting etiquette.

“thank you, sejanus, really… here,” you say in an unanticipated small voice, holding out one of the pieces.

the brunette freezes. you’re still kind. all of this, and you’re still kind. perhaps that’s all you’ll ever be. perhaps that’s what will be what dooms you in that arena. you will try to speak heart to heart, not sword to sword. he loathes that he’s thinking this way. he absolutely despises that he knows you will not be able to walk away from this without staining your hands red, but what has made a home in his chest is the miserable feeling of not knowing whether you’ll be able to do that. he’s district. he will forever be district, a vow he made at birth. but here he is, standing in front of you, free. here he is, handing you food as though you truly belonged in that zoo. he is everything you wished you could be in that moment, and yet you still decide to share your meal with him, despite the rumbling coming from your stomach. he wants to take it. wants to act like this is a normal picnic that you two are having together, but he knows you need that full sandwich. he knows you should take all you can get.

and so he declines politely. you begin to talk about the changes in district 2 since he’s left, and how life continued, yet everyone was stuck. sejanus emphasizes. he listens. but the dread has not left his system. he starts to think about how he’ll see you in another life if this one wasn’t enough. there’s so much time on the other side, and here it all feels like a constant countdown. never knowing if your time will be cut short. he mentally chastises himself; he needs to be optimistic. he needs to be here for you, now. he needs to think about the life you’ll have when he gets you out, not if. soon enough, you’ll believe it too.

to say that sejanus was a complete wreck watching you enter that arena would be an understatement. the cameras capture your soft features so well that you look displaced. lost. you shouldn’t be there, he thinks. no one should be there. the tears that built up in a split second blur his vision, and when the bell rings, he is there, running as a district 2 tribute.

sejanus watches as you take his advice, as you run and hide immediately, and he is kept at bay through at least that. he can’t lose it now. not when you’ve placed your entire life bare in his hands.

but sejanus is weak, too. he feels too much too often. his thoughts are frantic, and he finds himself in that arena the following night. the thumping in his chest intensifies as the voice at the entrance pleads him to enjoy the show, and he scoffs at that. he checked the cameras before coming, so he knows exactly where you are, and he’s so overwhelmed with the thought of seeing you that it doesn’t register that he has now, momentarily, taken the path he very well could’ve lived if he had not moved to the capitol. sejanus plinth, district 2 tribute.

light footed, he makes his way across the arena, and up the stands. he saw you come out of hiding when it was safe out, when most of the tributes were either asleep or in the tunnels, gathering a weapon or two from the cornucopia then settling on high ground. he figures you were startled once you heard the automatic greeting that played when he walked in, so he whispers your name.

he whispers it again. so delicately. laced with so much sweetness, it feels wrong to say it here.

and then a third time. the syllables now come out desperate. overwrought. he can’t leave without seeing you. touching you. it will break him.

“sejanus?” his ears perk up, and he looks around, frenzied, trying to distinguish the direction your voice came from. you peek out from one of the stands, and when you find those big, brown eyes looking back at you, you pick yourself up entirely and run to hold the man before you. the man who rushed into the possibility of death head on just to wrap his arms around you. he’ll face it all, just for that. oh how he wished you knew how badly he wanted to swap your places.

“you’re… but how? why? it’s dangerous here—” sejanus wastes no time, cupping your cheeks and diving in to kiss you. his hands are holding on to you for dear life, as if his knees will give out without the support. his eyebrows are knit together, focused on the feel of your lips on his. they’re dry, chapped, and cracked, but he doesn’t care. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip to give you some relief, making a mental note to send you some water as soon as he leaves.

he kisses you until it hurts him. until his lips are swollen and red. until the way you’re tightening your hands on his broad shoulders feels as though it’ll leave bruises. when you break the kiss to breathe, he tries to take you all in. to memorize everything. he desperately needs a pen and paper right this moment so he could draw you as accurately as he can, lest his memory fails him later.

the automatic voice sounds again, and only you turn your attention to the entrance. slowly comes coriolanus snow, the district 12 girl’s mentor, and his eyes scan the arena before they land on yours. you nudge sejanus lightly to direct his gaze to his friend, but he wants more. he can’t leave now. he can’t leave you. not like this.

“it’s okay, sejanus. i’ll be okay. help from the outside, and we’ll see each other again in no time.” you whisper, a tiny bit unconvincingly, eyes glossy. “just take care of yourself, okay?”

sejanus’s lips quiver, and he too whispers. you don’t believe it’s because of the other tributes, but because if he were to speak normally, only a sob would come out.

“you are myself. please take care of me.” you glance down and nod at that, tasting the saltwater that came rushing down your cheek. he wipes the trail that settled along your face, and begrudgingly makes his way to the blond.

sejanus is motivated by the thought, the need, to get you out of there. no matter the methods he uses. no matter the consequences he faces. he has the resources to buy you more time, and he finds himself not above exploiting them.

— suggestive themes, religious allusions.

sejanus plinth makes love as though he’s praying; practicing a religion he has thoroughly devoted himself to. a religion where you’re the sole deity, and he’s willing to give himself up, his own body autonomy, his vulnerability, as an offering.

sejanus knows wiser than most that a god won’t save anybody now, especially the districts, but his mind becomes clouded and dizzy with belief when he inhales your nectar-like scent and captures your ambrosia flavored lips between his.

first comes adoration. he leaves kisses along the side of your neck with a pleading, whining mantra of ‘please’s, asking permission to worship you. to bask in you. to prove his loyalty.

you don’t need to utter a word, just digging your fingers in his brunette curls is enough gospel and clarity to him.

and so comes confession. he proceeds with his ritual, hands gentle, light, but slow. sejanus is not the type to rush his prayers. he knows the more time he spends on his knees, the more rewards he’ll earn. the more he confesses his sins over and over again to you, the cleaner he’ll become. ridding himself of all his thoughts and letting himself become one with you was his momentary salvation.

then, thanksgiving. when he’s on the verge of losing himself in the feeling of your warmth and mercy, he begins to thank you incessantly. he blathers on about his gratitude, tears forming in his eyes, holding you so tight that his knuckles turn white.

and finally, his supplication also comes in white. as he halts his movements and pants in your ear, he feels rejuvenated again. full of hope. sejanus has given himself to you entirely and wholly, offered up his most primal gift, and he prays and prays to you for the day of deliverance.

you were coriolanus snow’s rosebud.

a head of styled and silk soft, golden locks, and eyes so icy blue that they contrast the heat that flushes the two of you as you gasp — pant — for air in a secluded hall of the academy. his pupils dart between yours with a subtle knit of his brows, so blown and full of need that you feel a second, more intense blush creeping up your neck.

could this really be the academy’s star senior? the most diligent student they could offer? skipping a lecture because his yearning is stronger than his desire to learn? those questions are rhetorical, of course, as all three were answered with a simple tug of your sleeve on your way to class, urging you to follow him wordlessly.

“what’s gotten into you, coryo? miss me too much?” you say, lightheartedly. his tense expression never falters, instead offering a twitch of his eye as he takes a short breather. he has a hand sprawled across the fabric of your uniform, holding you close by the small of your back, pushing you up against him, and another cupping your cheek.

coriolanus was emotionally complex. his conditioned way of thinking sadly did not get along with his feelings. he had a compulsive need to control, control, control, and you knew that. he struggled to not let anything slip through the cracks, but hid that behind the facade of a social chameleon.

the blond in front of you, however, was not the coriolanus people were accustomed to. so overcome with hastiness that he was borderline shaking.

“just… just need you… need you and nothing else. tell me you need me too. say it.” coriolanus whispers, demands, and you think for a second that it might be so others meandering through the halls don’t hear, but doubt that, judging by the way his fingers are digging into your skin and the urgency in his eyes. you take a moment to process his request, and nod your head briskly.

you admire the way a curl falls over his temple, so perfectly marigold and twisted, the way his irises look almost crystal-like and so clear that you can see yourself distinctly in the reflection. his lips, pretty and plump, like a meticulously cared for peony that you oh so dared to pluck.

“say it.” so lost in thoughts of admiration, you’re almost startled by the hoarseness of his voice. his tone is imposing, but the pleading pinch of his eyebrows begged and begged for your answer, afraid it might hear different.

“i need you, coriolanus. nothing else.” immediately, the blond’s features soften, wrinkles formed on his forehead finally smoothing over. you don’t question him in moments like this; he’s just in need of grounding every once in a while. the thumb placed on your cheekbone begins to caress you, and he rushes to your lips. hungry. needy. almost as if trying to devour you to keep you all to himself.

class can wait, you decide.