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countrymusiclover · 2 years

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29 - In Memory of Prim and Maya

Victor's Daughter

@lemonluvgirl87 @virtualsweetsdreamer @emma-andrea1 @voiddylanobrosey

The hovercraft lands outside the capital where my father and I stepped down the ramp. Two guards followed closely with Celestia behind us. My father interviewed my right hand with his leading me inside the mansion. I am dressed in a brown leather jacket, black pants and dusty combat boots. My hair is loose with a small part braided like a crown on my head. I paused outside Snow's old office twisting the doorknob stepping inside. The last time I was in this room was before Snow knew who I really was. Closing the door behind me I shivered feeling the air getting thick standing in front of his desk. There's a file laying there so I opened it sitting in his large chair. "Double bomb project...restarting the games. Capital children." I mumbled to myself glancing to the computer screen with multiple files opened.

Scanning the screen I gasped seeing security footage of outside the capital gates. Everybody is reaching up into the sky for little baskets floating down. The seconds they touched them an explosion goes off. The camera footage gets jolted around and I covered my ears hearing screaming. Closing my eyes for a moment I snapped them open heating Katniss's cry. "Prim - Primrose!" Clutching my hands into fists I gasped about to pass out because I hadn't been told anything. The last time I saw my best friend was this morning saying goodbye. She had finally been labeled as a nurse so proud of herself. Covering my hands over my mouth I sobbed heavily watching her get blown up right before my eyes. My heart tightened when I leaned back in the chair living the nightmare. Foosteps came inside the room and Coin's voice breaks me from the horror. "What are you doing in here. You're not allowed to be in here." She was wearing a grey suit hands on her hips. Rising to my feet I reached back grabbing my knife still crying. "You killed her - you killed Primrose. You traitorous bitch. How could you plan something so horrible. On innocent people just trying to get help!"

"Oh my dear your boyfriend helped give the order. I wasn't gunning for her..but if you kill me then you'll be executed. I don't think you're father could bear that. Yet I believe you're the perfect person to decide the fate of the country." She spoke stepping closer to me grabbing my arm leading me inside a room with the other Victor's. Sitting down in a chair with my father Katniss was on the other side. Twirling the knife in my hands underneath the table I scoffed towards Coin not wanting any part of this meeting. "Why exactly am I here. You killed my best friend so I want to kill you right now. That's the only thing that I care about Coin." She puts her hands on the table staring at me blankly. "Ms. Abernathy you are here because I think the only way to avoid more blood is to bring back the games. And make the capital children have the fate-" Slamming my hands on the table the knife clattered through the room. "No way in hell. Prim might be dead but I won't force Celestia into the torture we faced!"

Shoving my chair back I stomped towards the door gripping the door handle until Katniss spoke up leaning up on the table. "I vote yes. For Prim." Glancing over my shoulder the last vote was my father. Clutching the knife in my other hand there was no going back when he replied softly. "I agree with the - uh mockingjay." He gets to his feet following me into the hallway wrapping his arms around my waist tightly. Flinging my arms around his neck I just started heavy sobbing into his shirt. He moves one hand through my hair just holding me for hours like this. Hours later I didn't even bother going to see Gale before he got transferred to district 2. I couldn't love him anymore after what he did even if it was an accident. Someone knocked on my door where Celestia walked inside immediately hugging me crying that her grandfather was to be executed in a few minutes. "Hey sssh. You don't have to watch it. Or if you do just clutch your medicine bottle tightly for strength." I whispered in her ear not breaking the hug until she was ready. The doctors in 13 had created her some pills she had to take everyday to avoid snapping back into her murderer state. But it wouldn't be a permit thing once we got away from here back to my home.

Another knock came on the door seeing my father dressed in a suit waiting for us. The three of us walked down the road that the tributes had during the first night of the games. Keeping my eyes locked onto Snow I intertwined my right hand with my father's and my left in Celestia's. "For mom. For dad. For myself..." I mumbled under my breath eyeing her grandfather until Coin walked out giving a speech. "For Primrose!" My voice laced with vemon more than ever. The drums stopped behind us so I turned my head watching Katniss draw her bow. She holds it steady then at the last minute fires the arrow into Coin's chest. Celestia shivered burying her face in my chest with people running forward killing her grandfather. My father leads us through the halls away from the madness outside. "He's - he's gone!" She sobbed heavily when I grabbed her shoulders wishing she didn't know this. "Cel, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen this. Just wait a few hours and I'll take you away from here..forever." Climbing inside the hovercraft that would take us back to 12 I didn't bother to know who would lead the new country now. I just wanted to go home and never leave again.

Rubbing my eyes I stretched after hours of flying to see my father helping her off the hovercraft. Katniss and I glanced to one another grabbing the others hand walking down the ramp. The wind blows through my hair as I stand in the doorway arms crossed over my chest. Foosteps approached me from behind sighing heavily as they sat down. I slide down the door watching my father holding two beers. "You deserve this sweetheart. I am truly sorry I couldn't protect you from the games. Y/n, I would have fought tooth and nail to keep you safe." Reaching over I grabbed his hand locking eyes with him then opening my beer having a long sip. Giving him a poker face he chuckled taking a drink himself. "You did everything you could. I am only sorry that I forced Celestia to come live with us. I just couldn't leave her. The possibility of getting executed was too real." He moves onto my side of the doorway so we could watch the little girl sleeping in my old bedroom that I shared with Prim. He had his own bedroom. Katniss and Peeta shared the other one in this large house. "You're mother would be proud. Taking that little girl in is the best decision you made...I love you Y/n." Laying my head against his chest he draped his arm over my shoulder watching the rain fall outside. "I love you too dad. Mom would be proud of you too. You are the best father I could have asked for." This new life would be hard but we would face whatever came our way together in the name of my mother and my best friend, Maya Flower and Primrose Everdeen.

Wow readers, so this is the end. I can't believe it. I honestly loved writing Haymitch as a dad and the readers own storyline.

Please check out my other books and like always comments are really appreciated ❤️

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katnissandpeetamellark · 4 months

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Coriolanus’s Granddaughter: “look grandpa! I got a pet parrot”

Coriolanus: “that’s nice, dear”

Coriolanus internally:

#I headcanon he hated birds in general #he didn’t seem to enjoy Jubilee and he obviously hates Mockingjays and Jabberjays #but genuinely bro is a bird hater first and foremost #Coriolanus snow #president snow’s granddaughter #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg #hunger games #bosas #president snow #also this isn’t a canon event in case that’s confusing HAHAAH I’m just making shit up for fun

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icystorm76 · 6 months

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Im rewatching the hunger games and “Snow has a granddaughter” hits so much harder when you realize that this granddaughter looked up to Katniss. She wore her hair like Katniss. She looked up to her love with Peeta. And Coin wanted to throw her in an arena. Goddamn this series is deep.

#the hunger games #president snow #president coin #Snows granddaughter #katniss everdeen

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imperatrice21 · 1 month

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Am I the only one who thinks Snow would be a somewhat loving parent?

#strict definitely #but seeing the way he interacts with his granddaughter he probably loved his kids as well in his own way #i feel like everyone thinks he would be a trash parent #maybe not the best especially if they're Livia Cardew's kid but i think he would still love them #livia cardew #coriolanus snow #president snow #the hunger games trilogy #the hunger games #tbsoas #parenting

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eufezco · 5 months

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THREE LIES AT ONCE

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!STYLIST!READER

this is based on a prompt from character.ai c:

SYNOPSIS -> You're his stylist and you discover bruises.

You liked it when Finnick visited the Capitol and Finnick hated doing it except for the fact that he knew you would be there.

You had already earned a reputation as a stylist in the Capitol when you two met. And it had been four years since Finnick won his games but President Snow had kept him close because nothing was more appealing than a charming boy in his twenties to the people of the Capitol.

You learned from the best. Cinna taught you everything he knew about fashion and then made you forget about it all so you could build your own style. It actually worked quite well because your designs were sold in the Capitol as if people needed them to live.

Your colors and characteristic shapes, your outrageous skirts, your long dresses, and your headdresses were worn by everyone, men and women fought over your designs and they spent all their savings on your clothes. President Snow was more than delighted with you, not only because his granddaughter deeply admired you but because you knew how to be liked, and he loved that about you.

That's why President Snow found the perfect match with Finnick and you and for once in his life, he did something right.

Finnick became your muse. From the moment you were introduced at the Capitol and you saw him walking towards you with those bright green eyes, his perfectly messy blonde hair, his tanned skin thanks to the way the sun in District 4, and his body that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods. You knew you never wanted to design anything else but for him.

―When did you arrive and how is it that you haven't come to see me earlier? ―You threw yourself into his arms, your fingers dug into his blond locks of hair. This was not the typical relationship that stylists used to have with their models but after working with him for a couple of years now, it was inevitable that some affection would grow between the two of you. Especially when, during his stays in the Capitol, you spent most of your time together. You were the only thing that kept him from going crazy.

He would sit and watch you while you sketched out his next outfit. You would share a drink and ask him questions about how his life was back in District 4. Finnick loved to talk about his home and you loved to imagine yourself there, in the places that Finnick described to you so precisely. The sea reaching your feet, the sun shining against your skin, the sound of seagulls flying across the bluest sky you had ever seen... And for some reason that you were still trying to figure out, every time you imagined yourself in one of those scenarios, he was by your side. District 4 seemed like a lovely place.

Finnick's arms wrapped around your waist while his face hid in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your familiar scent when you hugged, too sweet for the Capitol, not like the perfume people there used to keep up with their continuous call for attention.

―Yesterday but I was too tired from the trip.

That was the first lie that Finnick told you that night.

There was an expression of relief on your face with something like a small smile on your lips, grateful to see him again after such a long time and when everything in your life was chaos thanks to the preparation of the next games. Your eyes were closed, enjoying him holding you until you heard him say those words and then they opened in a combination of surprise and confusion.

―Don't think that being tired is an excuse for not coming to see me, Finnick Odair. That should always be the first thing you do as soon as you set foot here. ―You said, still thinking about why would he lie to you.

You moved apart from the hug and Finnick had a big smile on his lips that inevitably made you smile too. ―I'm sorry. ―He apologized.

―You better be. But now I need you to tell me if you like it.

You turned to grab your notebook and showed him the sketch you drew. Finnick took the notebook from your hands so he could take a better look and admire every detail.

―This is beautiful. You're an artist. I doubt there is anyone half as good as you in the whole Panem.

―Oh, there's Cinna. I haven't managed to dethrone him yet.

―Come on, you outdid Cinna a long time ago. He says so himself. The student surpassed the master, there's nothing wrong with that.

You shook your head and said nothing. Finnick rolled his eyes, he knew you didn't like hearing from him or anyone else that you were better than Cinna. Not even when Cinna himself tells you.

―Have you started sewing it yet? Can I see it?

―That's why I needed to see you. I haven't started yet because I need to measure you again. The last time you wore one of my garments it was too tight. I don't want to risk it not fitting you this time. ―You grabbed the measuring tape and pins from the table in your studio, full of fabrics and patterns for the new tributes. Cinna had given you his notebook with some beautiful sketches and had told you that he needed something similar but for the male tribute, a guy named Peeta Mellark from District 12, and you had been working day and night to meet Cinna's expectations. ―The robe is behind the dressing screen.

―Yes ma'am.

Finnick walked over without saying another word. You admired his figure as he walked away. Finnick's back was twice as wide as when you met him, his arms had grown stronger, now you could identify each of the muscles in them and his legs had also doubled in size, unfortunately, Finnick loved to wear long skirts, if it were up to you he would be showing them all the time. The features of his face had also changed, now they were more pronounced. Finnick's dimples were more visible and his jaw was so sharp you'd swear if you slid your finger along it you'd cut yourself.

―This looks great on you. I don't know why I try to design you something new every time. I should let you go around with that.

Finnick shook his head, failing in his attempt not to laugh at your stupid joke. ―You are not only the best designer but also the funniest one, huh?

You rolled your eyes. Finnick knew you didn't like it when he told you that and he did it on purpose to tease you. ―Come on, take it off.

Finnick stood before the mirror as you stood behind him. Once he slipped it off, you gasped and jumped back, horrified.

―Gosh, Finnick, what is this? ―You took a few steps backward at the sight of the bruises that trailed down his back. By their bright red color you would say were rather recent. You didn't know how to react, you were petrified staring at his back.

Finnick smiled, dismissing what you just saw with practiced charm. ―Ah, just a little souvenir. My lovers like to play rough. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.

That was the second lie Finnick told you that night.

Finnick's chest was heavy but he was trying to keep his cool. He had assumed that by the time the two of you saw each other the wounds would have healed, besides the fact that he didn't think he would have to undress in front of you.

―Your lovers? This absolute atrocity was done by one of your lovers?

―They were probably just a little too... enthusiastic. Besides, I don't have a problem with it, I like it. My skin heals fast so I'll be all good in no time.

And that was the third lie. His skin did not heal fast. You had always told him off for coming to dress rehearsals all bruised up from his training sessions and those bruises had lasted for days. These new ones were sure to stay on his skin for at least a month.

―How can some one like this?

Finnick could hear the disdain in your voice. You should be disgusted, horrified and definitely judging him, but don't worry, so was he.

―Honey, if you don't understand it's not my problem.

―No, you're right. I don't understand. I don't think you enjoyed that.

―Oh, you're gonna tell me what I can or cannot enjoy?

―Have you seen your back? Have you seen how bad this looks?

Finnick chuckled. ―I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. Do you need all the details? Is the life of a stylist so boring?

―Finnick, listen to me. I don't want all the details I want the truth, and now it's the perfect time to start. ―You said. You grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around to look at you. Finnick groaned as your hands were placed on his shoulders and when he stood face to face with you, he could see how upset you were.

―I don't know what you're talking about. ―He bit the inside of his cheeks, that was just what he had been told, not to tell anyone the truth about what had happened. He saw you roll your eyes and let all the air out of your body through your mouth, annoyed.

―I know that you didn't arrive yesterday. Cinna told me. Do you really think you can go unnoticed? Here? And I know for a fact that those bruises are not from one of your lovers, let alone that they were done to you a couple of days ago.

Finnick swallowed, looking at you with his head held high. He tried to keep the smile on his lips, pretending that everything was okay, that he did enjoy it when those bruises were inflicted on him, but his lower lip betrayed him and began to tremble. You bent down to pick up the robe and carefully threw it over his shoulders so he wouldn't feel so exposed. Finnick's head was bowed. You lifted it using your thumb and index finger on his chin very gently.

―I need you to tell me who did this to you. I can't help you if you don't tell me.

Finnick chuckled amid the sadness and shame he was feeling. ―Help me? You can't help me.

―I'm sure there's something I can do. I could―.

―They were Peacekeepers following Snow's orders.

Your jaw dropped and your heart rate accelerated. It was the first time that Finnick was admitting that to someone. It had been impossible to tell anyone, let alone a citizen of the Capitol like you. Finnick couldn't possibly admit that without compromising his carefully cultivated image. Besides, if he made himself out to be a victim, the Capitol would never allow someone they saw as weak to perform the role of the Golden Boy and all the people he cared about in District 4 would die. At that moment you realized that all the times he showed up at your studio claiming that his injuries were from training were not true and you felt sick to your stomach.

―How did it happen? ―You asked, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat

―I tried to leave the Capitol. Before I could get on the train back to District 4 I was arrested by Peacekeepers and they took me to Snow's mansion. A lot of people came and when I refused to see them... I've been locked up there since then, that's why I couldn't come to see you earlier.

You shook your head, feeling awful. ―Don't worry about it, Finnick. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. ―Your stomach complained and begged your brain to stop imagining everything that Finnick would have been put through since then. The beatings, the strangers paying to sneak into his bed, the Peacekeepers bursting into his room and leaving him bleeding on the floor...

―Snow likes me. There has to be something I can do for you.

―You don't understand. It's not something that I can quit.

―I can spend all day designing and sewing to pay Snow the money he would make with you. I can talk to Cinna to raise the price of our designs. People here are rotten with money, they'll keep buying them anyway.

―It's not that simple. You can't just buy my freedom.

―Has anyone tried before?

Finnick thought about it and shook his head. ―Snow wouldn't allow that to happen. ―You ran your hand over your face in despair, not knowing what else to do to help him and feeling a responsibility to do something about it. You were the citizen of the Capitol, the one who had superior status and the favor of Snow, there must be something you could do.

―What if I buy you?

Finnick's eyes widened in surprise. ―Buy me?

You nodded and realized how bad that sounded. ―But not in like, a slave type of way. Gosh that sounded awful. I would just― Do it so you can live your life in your district. I wouldn't― keep you here, no. You'd just have to come to the Capitol a couple of times, make a few public appearances, and leave again.

―Why would you do that for me?

You bit the inside of your cheeks and nodded. ―You're my friend. I care about you.

You had managed to give him something he had long been missing. Hope. Maybe what you wanted to do would work or maybe not but at that moment Finnick felt that someone cared and that gave him hope that everything would work out.

Finnick took a step forward and placed his hands on your cheeks. He leaned in slightly and connected his lips with yours. Your hands ended up resting against his warm bare chest, closing your eyes and allowing him to kiss you. You knew it was the emotion of the moment, the adrenaline rush of knowing that maybe he could live his life in peace. You had given him hope and he was happy that someone had shed some light on his situation.

When you parted ways after the kiss, you both were smiling.

―Go and put your pants on, I'll treat your bruises.

―Do you know how?

―Well, not really, but I'm not short of needle and thread and I still have some alcohol from last night.

Finnick pressed his lips together and nodded. That would work. He walked to the dressing screen and you watched him as he walked away in the mirror's reflection. Before hiding behind the dressing screen, he said something that lit up a flame in your heart and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

―I wish you would come with me to District 4.

my requests for the hunger games are open 📥

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berzahoes · 4 months

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snow lands on top | tom blyth

summary: a sutherland (not donald) and the younger version of president snow walk into a bar . . .

an: terrible summary ik but eh <3

when tom told you he had auditioned for the part of a young coriolanus snow, you got flashbacks to attending premieres of the hunger games movies. your grandfather was always taking you to the set of whatever film he was starring in and you loved it. sometimes you even got to yell ‘action’ or ‘cut’. your favorite memories were always on the hunger games set when your grandfather played president snow and now you received the news that your boyfriend auditioned for the younger version of said character.

“what do you think your grandfather would say? it is his character. what if he hates that i’m doing this? say something, you’re making me nervous!” tom said when he noticed how quiet you got.

“i’m just thinking . . you’re going to bleach your hair. i love your brown hair so much.” you ran your hands through his soft brown hair.

“we don’t know if i have to bleach it, i haven’t gotten the part.” tom reassured.

“yet. don’t think about my grandfather, think about how you’re going to be coriolanus snow.” you kissed him.

“but-”

“tom, if it bothers you that much, you can talk to him about it. i’m having lunch with him tomorrow and i’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you joined.”

and that’s how you ended up having lunch with your grandfather and boyfriend. it had been weeks since you last had lunch with your grandfather and you missed him dearly.

“it’s such a beautiful day. we should go on a walk after.” donald said as he picked up his glass of water to drink.

“it is. a walk sounds nice, but i think tom would like to tell you something first.” you nudged your boyfriend side.

“is that so? don’t tell me you kids got married and didn’t invite me. i always told you that i wanted to walk you down the aisle.” donald said sternly.

“no, sir, we did not get married, but i do intend to marry your granddaughter. she is the love of my life and i know how much it means to her that we have a proper wedding with you there. this is about . . . something else. um . . i recently had an audition for a role you’re familiar with. i’m sure you heard that another hunger games film is being made, but this one doesn’t involve the original cast-” donald cut off tom.

“you’re playing president snow.” he said.

“nothing is confirmed yet, but i’m hoping i get the part. but if you want me to back out, i understand.” you could hear the hurt in his voice. you reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it.

“why would you do that, tom?” donald asked.

“it’s a role made famous by you, sir, it’s your character. i don’t want to mess up such an iconic character like snow.“ he admitted.

“tom, i’ve seen you act. my granddaughter made me watch billy the kid twice. you could never mess up our character.” your grandfather smiled warmly.

“our character?” tom questioned. your grandfather nodded.

“i think i’m going to cry.” you spoke.

it was days after the ballad of songbirds and snakes premiered and the fans were loving it. positive reviews about the cast and film came out and you couldn’t be more prouder of your boyfriend and his bleached hair. it took some time to get used to, but he was soon back to his brown hair.

tom was currently doing an interview in your shared office on his laptop with josh horowitz from mtv. you were catching up on your favorite show when you heard josh ask tom a question that caught your attention.

“your girlfriend, she’s part of the sutherland family. her grandfather is the og president snow, I need to know if you were nervous playing snow because of who your girlfriend is related to.” josh chuckled when he saw that tom laughed.

“i was and then the three of us had lunch. that’s when i told him i had auditioned for the role of snow and he was so nice about it. by the end of it, he actually called snow ‘our character’ and it just warms my heart that he supported me taking on this role.” tom explained.

“and did donald sutherland have any involvement with your take on snow? any advice?” josh asked.

“the first day of filming, he texted me the usual ‘good luck, have a great day’ but there is a line i said in a scene with peter dinklage that’s in the end of the film. ‘snow lands on top’ that line was actually written by donald sutherland and he told me to say it because he knew that it fit the character of snow really well.” tom explained.

you smiled to yourself as you listened to tom. who knew the character of coriolanus snow would come back into your life after many years?

#tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth fluff #sutherland!reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes

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writersblockiskillingme · 6 months

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delete this if you find it weird or confusing 🙏

But headcanons of what snow (old) would act like if he saw the granddaughter of his first love that he betrayed or something , like she looks exactly like her and she’s been chosen for the games

Reminder of His First Love | Coriolanus Snow Headcanons

Warning/s: Old!Snow, mentions of death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: OMG THIS IS AMAZINGG!! I really tried and I truly hope that I did this justice it deserves and I'm sorry if this is not what you had on mind. Enjoy!

So you're a granddaughter of one and only songbird, Lucy Gray Baird.

After she escaped form Snows clutches, she made it look like she was dead just so he could leave her alone forever.

Her heart broke from his betrayal.

She moved to the furthest part of the District 12 once she returned back home.

She tried to live her life to the fullest after everything that happened.

Later on she married a nice man from her District and they had a son.

She sadly passed away not long after.

However, her spirit lived on and passed itself upon her dear granddaughter who she sadly never met.

She would've been proud if she knew you.

Your father always told you that you were your grandmother's clone.

And boy was that true.

Your face, your hair, your voice, the way you carried yourself... everything was just like Lucy Gray.

Your mom always used to joke that she was reincarnated in came back as you.

And just like your grandmother, you got picked for the Hunger Games as a female tribute from District 12.

President Snow was sipping on his tea as he watched the reaping ceremony and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment once he saw you in a colorful dress as you stepped up.

He tried to not think of Lucy Gray Baird for a long time, now imagine his shock when she stepped onto that stage once again.

Once the interviews came and you were interviewed by Caesar Flickerman a usual question came up.

"What is your talent?"

You stopped to think for a moment and answered without hesitation.

"I can sing." You smiled at him and then looked at the crowd. "I know that it may not help me much in the arena, but I'm really good at it."

Snow thought that you proved that, alright.

You formed alias whith Foxface in the arena.

As she died you held her in your arms as you sang her to sleep.

"No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..."

Snow was frozen in his seat.

During the games, he found it hard to watch them somehow.

It was perfectly clear that Lucy Gray came back to haunt him and destroy him.

And boy did she do exactly that.

He never would have thought that Lucy Gray's daughter would become the leader of the rebellion.

He should've explained it, though.

The rebells won and you were supposed to be the one to execute Snow.

The words that you told him once you met up with him before his execution echoed in his mind until the moment he died.

"I am absolutely repulsed by you."

With that, Lucy Gray's clone left him speechless.

He couldn't believe that after all those years she still affected him.

But you now what they say, you never forget your firsts.

Pretty soon he was tied up against the pole as you stood a few feet away from him.

"You're as pure as the driven snow." You mocked him before you let the arrow fly, ripping through the air.

It seems like Lucy Gray's mockingjays did harm him after all.

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

#headcanon #headcanons #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #thg #thg movies #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #anon ask #coriolanus x reader

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stop-ur-losing-me · 1 year

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i think it's so funny that in mockingjay when president snow announces that anyone associated with katniss will be viewed as a traitor or whatever and then the camera just focuses on snow's granddaughter slowly takes the braid out of her hair. but it's also kinda sad cuz it shows that snow won't even show mercy to his granddaughter

#thg #the hunger games #mockingjay #katniss everdeen #shoutout to snow's granddaughter for wearing that hairstyle

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mswyrr · 5 months

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why did president snow laugh as he died?

imo because katniss proved dr gaul and him wrong in the end. and he loved it. how wonderful, to be wrong and know the future will be better. what a wonderful way to be destroyed, how epic. knowing that justice doesn't sleep forever, that it does actually exist, that lucy gray was right and some things are "written in the stars," even if it is killing you - it means the world isn't the shithole you convinced yourself it was.

his granddaughter isn't going to be forced into her own Games or tortured or etc. there is life after him and it's better and good for it. good for katniss for refusing the darkness and fear and paranoia and survival-justifies-anything that consumed him. even though it tempted her.

imo i see them as very similar people as teens - and 80something him keeping his word to never lie to katniss is what was left of the boy who cared so much about being "honorable" (like katniss cares about "owing" and being honorable). and that one single solitary spot of light left in him is katniss' dark side telling her the truth nobody else will - about coin, about what is coming. and she uses that to set panem free from what his descent into darkness made it and what coin would make it. and he's glad to be wrong. it's freeing.

as poet jack gilbert put it "If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,/ we should give thanks that the end has magnitude."

or to quote the kind of folk songs collins references throughout THG:

Well, you may throw your rock, and hide your hand Workin' in the dark against your fellow man But as sure as God made black and white What's done in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time Run on for a long time Run on for a long time Sooner or later, God'll cut you down Sooner or later, God'll cut you down

if fate/god/lucy gray's ghost sends an angel to cut him down, well -- how marvelous that is, how strange and unexpected after a lifetime of believing heinous bullshit is all there is, all people can ever aspire to. and the end had magnitude.

[this meta is inspired by @lonelyroommp3's lovely video of Donald Sutherland's comments on snow's pov on katniss]

#coriolanus snow #thg meta #my meta #the hunger games

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enixamyram · 1 year

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What are all your personal headcanons for President Snow's granddaughter? Either her life before or after the events of the books?

#The Hunger Games #Catching Fire #Mockingjay #President Snow's Granddaughter #Coriolanus Snow #Erika Bierman

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

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28 - We Have Our Own Fight

Part 29

Victor's Daughter

@lemonluvgirl87 @virtualsweetsdreamer @emma-andrea1 @voiddylanobrosey

Two guards by the hovercraft opened the door for me. My hair is in two braids like in the games when I run up throwing my arms around my boyfriend's neck. Gale wrapped his strong arms around me, burying his face into my hair sighing heavily. "You don't have to worry about me babe. As long as I'm here I'm safe. But you're going right into Snow's arena...he won't leave anything to chance you know." I sniffed through some tears breaking the hug but gripping his bullet proof vest in my hands instead.

"You're only safe when you aren't around that Capital girl. I don't think bringing her here was a good idea Y/n." He replied slumping his shoulders in annoyance. Soldiers walked past us loading up the bullets and everything. Bending my head down I pushed hair from my eyes knowing he had a point. I risked my life to save her and she tried to kill me as a result of Snow. "Gale, I know you don't see it. But when she was in the Capital before we met. She was this sweet girl who just wanted to see the world...There's good in her I know it."

Foosteps approached behind us where I glanced over my shoulder seeing my father and Prim waiting to see him off with me. Prim ran up hugging him and my father pated him on the shoulder for luck. Gale opened his arms for me where I almost tackled him to the ground crying into his chest. He kisses my hair squeezing me tightly crying a little too. The last time that we had to leave the other was the Quarter Quell and we didn't really get to say good-bye. This time I won't know if he is alive or dead and I don't think I can stomach what would happen if he does die. A commanding officer came over causing Gale to break the hug walking up the ramp onto the hovercraft. He shares me one last glance calling out before the engine started firing loudly. "I love you!"

"Wait - what Gale. I - I have to tell him..dad let me go!" I started to run forward but my father grabbed my arm holding me back over the warning line. The hovercraft started closing its doors where I called out as loud as I could praying that he heard me say it back. "I love you too. I love you!" The door closed and ir flies out of the hanger bay causing me to fling my arms around my father crying again. He wrapped his arms around my waist. One hand moving through my hair trying to calm me down. "He said I love you dad...and I didn't say it fast enough. What if he didn't hear it...what if he dies...never knowing!" He kisses my hair breaking the hug giving me a weak smile.

Prim touched my shoulder and I hugged her gently. She wrapped her arms around me where we stayed like this for longer than I did with my father's hug. Finally we broke the hug so she could lead me down to the medical center. She had been very proud of herself for getting the opportunity to help and be a nurse like her mother. It warns my heart to know that a 14 year old girl like her will get to live the rest of her days in a better world. But there's the ghost of Rue that flashed through the back of my mind every so often. Plutarch and I hadn't spoken since he asked me to see Celestia all tied down like Peeta Mellark. "I'm suprised you stayed Ms. Abernathy. Given your past with going into the Capital alone." I heard the voice of Coin over my shoulder entering the room.

Prim kept tending to some supplies when I stood up crossing my arms over my chest scowling at her entrance. I have avoided her prescence ever since she tried to murder Celestia in front of everyone in District 13. Her way to send a message to the Capital is what she said. "Well I felt it would be easier on my father to know I was safe. Since he's already had to watch me almost die in the Quell. But that not what you really want to talk about is it Ms. President?" Coin sits down on one of the empty cots patting the empty space for me to join her. I reluctantly do still keeping my arms the way they were.

"You are a smart girl like your father. I came here to ask you a question. If you could get revenge on Snow for what he did to your family would you take the chance?" She locked eyes with me almost showing no emotions which makes a chill run down my spine. Prim had told me and her sister that Coin had lost her whole family in the bombing of their district years ago. Avoiding games with her I play with the end of one of my braids not trusting her anymore. The sad truth is that if we didn't follow her we wouldn't have 13's military to help us fight the Capital. "It wouldn't be my decision. My father would be the better one to ask. Considering he murdered his whole family because he didn't want my father to win the games."

She simply nodded before I got up and left the medical center flopping back on the cot in my quarters until someone opened the door revealing my dad who lifted my feet sitting down where I shifted so my head was laying in his lap. He draped his right arm over me running his fingers through my hair finally breaking the silence. "Katniss snuck onto a hovercraft against Coin's orders." I snorted lifting my head up giving him a smirk. He mirrors it knowing that our girl on fire wasn't going to sit around. She was going to be in the middle of the fight and kill Snow in the end. "So Gale and Finnick made it alright though?" I asked since Annie his wife would want to know if her husband was safe at least for now. They had gotten married shortly before the mission was announced. "They're fine babygirl. You can rest with me by your side tonight." He replied pulling the covers over the both of us and for the first time since we arrived here I slept peacefully in my father's arms.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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gallifreyanhotfive · 4 months

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 10

After the Doctor left Gallifrey, the Master and the Rani were so desperate to find him that they kidnapped and interrogated a retired CIA agent named Maris, who had been hired to find him. Maris unfortunately had no idea where he went, but before they could kill her, she was extracted from the situation.

Sabbath Dei cut out the Eighth Doctor's second heart and put it in his own chest.

In an alternate timeline, the Sixth Doctor was imprisoned in the Tower of London for a hundred years and had both of his legs cut off. By refusing to give the Dalek also imprisoned an order, he ensures that the Dalek will kill him.

William Shakespeare and Richard III swapped places in history, so anything "Shakespeare" did from 1597 onwards was actually done by Richard III.

After regenerating, the Ninth Doctor smashed every mirror in the TARDIS, swearing that he would never look at what face he was wearing after killing billions of people. He would eventually look in a mirror again after meeting Rose Tyler, and his meeting with Rose actually occurred after much more time had passed than you might think.

In the UNIT Black Archive, there is a photograph of Mike Yates and Sara Kingdom, suggesting that they interacted at some point.

The Fifth Doctor was once paralyzed from the waist down in a spaceship crash and remained that way for most of the adventure. By the end of the story, he had been healed by nanites.

The Doctor's older brother Braxiatel was Lord Burner at one point, the personal assassin of the President who burned people out of history. After being ordered to burn an old man and his granddaughter running away from Gallifrey, he let them go, and the President who gave him the order mysteriously died when one of the power relays in his office overloaded. Braxiatel led an inquiry on the matter and declared it to be nothing more than an accident.

River Song believes that the Doctor had a crush on the Rani while they were at the Academy.

At the summit of Mount Cadon on Gallifrey, one can see the whole of time itself, but people hardly ever reach it because a hallucinogenic compound in the snow stops them. While a TARDIS can materialize at the top, this is apparently "cheating" according to the Doctor. The Academy is at the foot of Mount Cadon, and it is also the site of the House of Lungbarrow.

The Doctor remembers attempting to climb Mount Cadon several times. On one such attempt, Vansell broke his leg.

When the Eighth Doctor ran into the Brigadier again after regaining his memories from another bout of amnesia, he said he felt much safer with him.

The Third Doctor's tattoo was given to him by the Time Lords to mark that he was in exile. It is basically the equivalent of a brand or a big scarlet letter.

Mustard gas can be fatal to a Time Lord.

Kamelion and K-9 can both be damaged by water.

As Time Tots, the Rani and the Doctor would play hide-and-seek. She was incredibly irritated by the Doctor's exceptional ability to find her hiding spots.

The physical appearance of a Time Lord is but a small aspect of their true forms. In reality, Time Lords are vast, multi-dimensional beings existing in the metaspace realm. These forms are completely invisible to humans.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

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snowangie · 5 months

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snow on the beach.

a finnick odair x fem!oc series

summary : in the heart of the capitol's glittering deception, Giselle Snow, granddaughter of president coriolanus snow, conceals her true emotions while working to undermine the hunger games. sent to district 4 after the 74th Games, she grapples with forbidden love for district 4's Finnick Odair. Snow on the beach is weird but fucking beautiful – Giselle is the snow, Finnick is the beach, an unexpected yet perfect harmony in the delicate ballet of their existence. As the quarter quell unfolds, panem becomes a battleground for love and rebellion, and Giselle faces a choice that will alter destinies and unravel the threads of her past.

warnings: swearing, smut, violence, mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of sex trafficking, weapons, trauma, mental illnesses

genre: angst, romance, forbidden love, violence, hurt/comfort

chapters: 1-flecks of lights , 2-life is emotionally abusive , 3-time cant stop me quite like u did

author’s note: i alrdy have six other chapters abt to be published real soon. the timeline will start from post thg and pre catching fire to the catching fire and the mockingjay pt 1 & 2 ! the story will get more interesting in the coming chapters i promise and i hope u enjoy reading :)

chapter 1 : flecks of lights.

The grandiose chamber of President Snow's office in the heart of the Capitol was adorned with opulence that mirrored the power he held over Panem. Giselle Snow, granddaughter to the president, entered the room with a careful blend of poise and trepidation. The air was laden with an unspoken tension as she approached the imposing figure behind the intricately carved desk.

President Snow, seated in a high-backed chair, regarded her with a scrutinizing gaze. “My lovely... Giselle,” he said with an air of authority. “Sit.” His tone allowed no room for objection.

Giselle took a seat across from her grandfather, her posture straight and composed. “You summoned me, Grandfather,” she said, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of deference and curiosity.

He leaned back, fingers steepled. “The districts are proving to be more troublesome than anticipated, especially after that girl, Katniss Everdeen, became a symbol of rebellion. We need to ensure our control, and I have a task for you.”

Giselle inclined her head, a silent acknowledgment of her readiness to fulfill any duty bestowed upon her.

“You're to leave the Capitol,” President Snow continued, his gaze piercing. "Head to District 4. Keep an eye on the situation there. We need loyalty, not rebellion."

Understanding the gravity of the assignment, Giselle nodded. “Of course, Grandfather. I will ensure District 4 remains in line.”

His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, though his eyes remained cold. “You'll do more than that, Giselle. You'll show them who holds the power. Be a presence they can't ignore.”

Giselle's brow furrowed slightly. “I understand the need for authority, Grandfather, but isn't there a risk of inciting further unrest if I'm too forceful?”

President Snow's expression hardened. “You underestimate the importance of control, my dear. A firm hand is required to maintain order. You'll leave tomorrow. Ensure District 4 understands the price of disobedience.”

As Giselle left the president's office, the weight of her new assignment settled on her shoulders. Little did she know, this journey to District 4 would alter the course of her life in ways she never could have anticipated. The Capitol's gleaming façade hid secrets, and Giselle, bound by duty, embarked on a path that would challenge her allegiance and reshape her understanding of the world she was born into.

The nightfall brought a quiet stillness to the Capitol, but within the luxurious walls of the Snow's residence, the atmosphere was anything but tranquil. Giselle stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the neon-lit skyline, a stark contrast to the darkened Districts she was about to enter. A single thought echoed in her mind - her departure for District 4.

She turned around from the window to a big mirror across her bedroom. In the mirror's gaze, Giselle Snow emerges, a vision painted in the hues of winter’s embrace—like the quiet elegance of snow, her every movement a subtle cascade of crystalline grace. Her porcelain skin, as pale as freshly fallen snow, conceals a myriad of emotions beneath a facade of composure. Blue eyes, reminiscent of the frigid depths, mirror the legacy she inherits from President Snow. Raven tendrils cascade like delicate snowflakes, framing a countenance that masks both strength and vulnerability. Giselle, standing at a gentle petite height, embodies the quiet power of a snow-covered landscape, where the surface serenity belies the tumultuous currents beneath.

As dawn painted the sky with hues of rose and gold, Giselle prepared for her journey. The Capitol, a city of excess and indulgence, presented a facade of perpetual celebration. Yet, beneath it, Giselle felt a sense of isolation. The grand parties, the extravagant fashion, the Capitol's obsession with appearances – all seemed distant, detached from the reality she was about to confront.

Descending the grand staircase of the Presidential office, Giselle observed Capitol citizens engaged in their daily routines. Perfectly coiffed and adorned in extravagant attire, they moved with an air of detached elegance. She exchanged polite nods and practiced smiles, concealing the underlying tension that accompanied her impending departure.

In the bustling streets, hovercrafts glided overhead, carrying with them the distant echoes of Capitol chatter. “Love really is a wonderful thing, isn’t it ? Look at the District 12 victors.” Giselle caught fragments of conversations discussing the recent Hunger Games, a macabre spectacle ingrained in Capitol culture. Her gaze lingered on the lavish advertisements depicting this year’s victors and their glory.

As she made her way to the Capitol's central hub, Giselle couldn't escape the feeling of being a pawn in a grand, calculated game. The Capitol, with its towering architecture and ostentatious displays of wealth, seemed like a gilded cage, and Giselle, despite her privileged status, yearned for something more.

Amid the swirl of Capitol life, Giselle pondered the stark contrast between her existence and the struggles faced by those in the Districts. The Capitol's obliviousness to the suffering of its subjects weighed heavily on her conscience. She questioned the morality of her grandfather's orders, grappling with the realization that her actions would directly impact lives beyond the opulence of the Capitol.

As her hovercraft lifted off, carrying her towards District 4, Giselle cast a final gaze upon the Capitol skyline. The dichotomy between the sparkling facade and the dark reality beneath became a poignant metaphor for the life she was leaving behind. Little did she know that her journey into the heart of Panem would unravel secrets, challenge loyalties, and ignite a spark of compassion that could alter the course of the Hunger Games.

On a crisp morning, Giselle found herself in the heart of District 4, standing outside a weathered building that served as a makeshift shelter for the elderly. Inside, a sense of community prevailed, but the challenges of age and limited resources weighed heavily on the occupants. Giselle, armed with a basket of provisions, stepped forward to lend a helping hand.

“Good morning, Alice,” she greeted, her tone warm and genuine.

The elderly woman, initially wary of the Capitol emissary, now greeted Giselle with a genuine smile. “Good morning, dear. You've been a blessing to us.”

As Giselle distributed essentials and engaged in conversations with the elderly residents, she felt a profound connection forming. The Capitol's representative had become a familiar face, not as a symbol of oppression but as someone who genuinely cared.

Amidst the camaraderie, a flashback flickered in Giselle's mind – a scene from her arrival in District 4. The initial reception had been marked by hesitancy and fear. The residents had seen her as an extension of President Snow's authority, an unwelcome reminder of Capitol oppression. Their guarded glances and whispered conversations had painted her arrival with skepticism.

Now, as she moved among them with empathy and compassion, Giselle recalled the gradual shift in perception. The people of District 4 had witnessed her dedication to easing their burdens, and the once-fearful gazes had transformed into looks of gratitude.

In the flashback, a moment stood out – a conversation with an elderly fisherman named Mr. O'Brien. “We don't trust your kind,” he had grumbled at the outset.

Giselle had responded with a soft-spoken determination. “Give me a chance to prove that I'm not here to perpetuate the Capitol's cruelty.”

Back in the present, Mr. O'Brien, now seated in the shelter, smiled at Giselle as she handed him a blanket. The warmth in his eyes spoke of acceptance earned through actions, not mere words.

The contrast between Giselle's arrival and the present scene was palpable – a transformation of fear into trust, of skepticism into gratitude. As she continued her efforts to assist the elderly in District 4, Giselle found purpose in bridging the gap between the Capitol and its districts, one compassionate act at a time.

Upon her arrival in District 4 a month ago, Giselle was ushered into a modest gathering hall where the victors of the district had assembled. Their eyes, seasoned by hardship and the harsh realities of the Hunger Games, bore a mix of curiosity and wariness as she entered. Among them, Finnick Odair stood out, an enigmatic figure with an air of both charm and caution.

Finnick, a living embodiment of allure and strength, possesses a sculpted physique that seems chiseled by the ocean's waves. His sea-green eyes mirrors the depth of the waters he hails from, and his sun-kissed hair carries whispers of the sandy shores. The 65th Hunger Games victor reminded Giselle of the beach, its warmth and unpredictability. The sand yields beneath his every step, mirroring the enigmatic allure that draws others in. His presence drawing the tide of emotions in an unpredictable rhythm with his exuding charisma.

Giselle felt the weight of their collective gaze as she approached, her every step echoing in the hushed room. The victors, each carrying the visible and invisible scars of their past tribulations, eyed her with a mixture of skepticism and guarded interest.

Finnick, his sea-green eyes piercing, regarded her with a cool detachment. She sensed an unspoken challenge in his gaze, a silent invitation to prove herself beyond her Capitol lineage.

One of the older victors, Mags, stepped forward, her weathered face etched with both resilience and kindness. “Welcome to District 4,” she said, her voice, thick with an accent that can hardly be understood, but a comforting contrast to the tension in the room. “We've been through a lot, and we hope you understand our apprehension.”

Giselle nodded, acknowledging the validity of their wariness. “I'm here to understand, to learn, and to help in any way I can.”

Finnick, leaning against a pillar with an air of nonchalance, finally spoke, his words laced with skepticism. “You're here to help yeah? That's a first.”

Giselle met his gaze with a steady determination. “I didn't choose the circumstances of my birth, but I can choose how I navigate them. Let me prove that not everyone from the Capitol is your enemy.”

The other victors exchanged glances, the room filled with an uneasy silence. It was Annie Cresta, another victor with a haunted expression, who broke the tension. “We've heard promises before. Actions speak louder than words.”

Over the following days, Giselle worked tirelessly to fulfill those promises. She attended to the needs of the district, engaged in conversations with the victors, and gradually earned their trust through her genuine efforts to understand their struggles.

The low hum of conversation and the rhythmic clinking of utensils created a subdued ambiance during the communal dinner in District 4. Giselle, a newcomer to this close-knit community of victors, moved through the room with a measured grace, keenly aware of the mixed reactions to her presence. Finnick, surrounded by fellow victors, couldn't help but watch her, his initial hostility giving way to a guarded curiosity.

Giselle, though aware of the scrutiny, maintained her composed facade. Her poise unfaltering. Finnick's eyes followed her every move, the dim lighting casting shadows on his usually sharp features. There was a weariness about him that matched the weight of their shared experiences. Mags, ever perceptive, nudged Finnick with a subtle smile, as if to say, “Give her a chance.”

As Giselle took a seat at the table, the tension lingered. The conversations around them continued, a mixture of stories from past victories and the haunting memories of the arena. Finnick's initial hostility began to wane, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. Giselle, sensing the shift, decided to break the ice.

“Hello, everyone,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of confidence and vulnerability. “I know I'm not what you expected, but I'm here to navigate this journey with you. Let's make the most of it, shall we?”

As the dinner continued, the atmosphere shifted subtly. Finnick’s hostility waned, replaced by a flicker of curiosity that mirrored Giselle’s guarded demeanor. The room, filled with the stories of past victories and lingering traumas, bore witness to a quiet turning point.

Their eyes met across the room, an electric charge passing between them, almost like some flecks of lights. It was as if the air crackled with unspoken tension, a silent understanding passing between them. In that fleeting connection, Finnick glimpsed something beyond the Capitol walls Giselle wore—a vulnerability, perhaps, or a shared acknowledgment of the fact that they were bound together by the challenges of the Games. The road to trust might be uncertain, but that initial exchange marked the beginning of a connection that held the promise of unexpected alliances in the days to come.

The coastal air in District 4 carried a sense of tranquility, a stark contrast to the undercurrent of tension within the district. Giselle, engrossed in helping a group of children repair a makeshift shelter, looked up as the oppressive presence of a Peacemaker leader, Captain Rawlins, loomed over her.

Rawlins, his uniform adorned with Capitol insignias, exuded hostility as he approached. “Giselle Snow,” he sneered, emphasizing her last name with disdain. “I've been hearing reports about your... tenderness toward these people. You forget your purpose here.”

Giselle, undeterred, straightened but maintained her composure. “My purpose is to ensure order and cooperation, not to crush the spirit of those who have already endured so much.”

Rawlins, a symbol of Capitol authority, leaned in with a menacing glare. “Your grandfather didn't send you here to coddle them. They need to fear the Capitol, not embrace it.”

As the confrontation unfolded, Finnick, who had been observing from a distance, couldn't ignore the palpable tension. His piercing gaze remained fixed on Giselle, his expression unreadable.

Giselle met Rawlins' hostility with measured defiance. “I believe in understanding before control. Fear only begets rebellion.”

Rawlins, unrelenting, hissed, “You'll do well to remember your place, Snow. This is not the Capitol. This is District 4, and they are not your equals. Next time you might not just be getting a verbal reminder.”

The Peacemaker leader retreated with a parting glare, leaving Giselle surrounded by a heavy silence. The onlookers, District 4 residents and victors alike, exchanged uneasy glances, aware of the delicate balance between the Capitol's emissary and the authority they represented.

Finnick, having witnessed the confrontation, approached Giselle with a softened expression. His sea-green eyes, once filled with skepticism, now held a glimmer of understanding. “ I guess, even the President’s granddaughter isn’t free.”

Giselle, her resolve unbroken, met his gaze. “No, Finnick. I'm not here to perpetuate the Capitol's cruelty. I’m not just Snow’s granddaughter. What Snow is and what I am is two different things. I want to make a difference. A good one.”

In that moment, the unspoken connection between them deepened. Finnick, seeing beyond the Capitol's facade, recognized Giselle's genuine intentions. The hostility of Rawlins had not only exposed the oppressive nature of the Capitol but had also illuminated the stark contrast between Giselle's compassion and the brutality she represented. As the whispers of dissent lingered in the air, Giselle and Finnick share a subtle nod of mutual understanding.

The day was overcast in District 4, the sky reflecting the somber mood that often lingered in the coastal district. Giselle, having spent the morning assisting in a community project, found herself near the docks where Finnick was overseeing a fishing expedition. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the boats provided a backdrop to their conversation.

Finnick, usually stoic, allowed a rare vulnerability to surface. “Victors are supposed to be living in luxury, but I feel like a prisoner. Funny how I thought I would be free from everything when I won the games.”

Giselle, leaning against a dock post, looked at him with understanding. “Luxury can be its own form of confinement. Expectations, demands... it's a different kind of Hunger Games.”

He sighed, the weight of his past victories evident in his eyes. “They think they own us because we won. They parade us like trophies.”

Giselle nodded, recognizing the shared burden of being a pawn in the Capitol's game. “I never asked for this life either. Born into a system that expects me to follow its rules.”

As the conversation continued, they found solace in each other's shared experiences. Finnick spoke of the exploitation he endured, the Capitol's twisted expectations, and the toll it took on his sense of self. Giselle, in turn, shared her struggles with the oppressive nature of her lineage and the conflict she felt between duty and compassion.

Amidst the backdrop of creaking boats and the distant calls of seagulls, Giselle placed a reassuring hand on Finnick's arm. “You're not alone, Finnick. We're both prisoners of a system that values power over humanity.”

He looked at her, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in his eyes.

She smiled at him, the connection between them deepening. “Maybe it's time we redefine what's expected. We can be more than the roles they assigned us.”

As the day unfolded, Giselle and Finnick found comfort in each other's presence. Their budding friendship serving as a source of emotional support in a world that sought to define them by their pasts. They became each other’s flecks of lights in their own darkness. In this shared vulnerability, they discover a connection that transcends the Capitol's expectations, laying the foundation for a bond that will evolve into something deeper.

The evening was draped in hues of orange and purple as Giselle stood by the edge of the district, gazing out at the sea. Finnick joined her, and in the quiet solitude, the weight of their shared experiences hung in the air.

Finnick, usually guarded, allowed a moment of vulnerability. "I've never talked about this with anyone. The Hunger Games, the Capitol's demands... it changes you."

Giselle nodded, understanding the depth of his pain. "They exploit your victories, but they don't see the scars they leave behind. Victors are expected to be symbols, not people."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the water, Giselle found herself sharing her own struggles. "I grew up in the Capitol, surrounded by extravagance. But the more I saw, the more I realized how empty it all is."

Finnick looked at her, his sea-green eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and shared pain. "I thought you were just another Capitol puppet, but you're different. I can't figure you out."

Giselle chuckled, a bittersweet expression on her face. "Maybe that's because I'm trying to figure myself out too. I don't want to be a pawn in their game. I want to change things, even if it's just a little."

In the quiet admission of their vulnerabilities, a subtle shift occurred. Their friendship evolved into a connection forged in shared pain and a mutual desire for change.

As the waves rhythmically caressed the shore, Giselle sought solace in the quiet companionship of Finnick. With a gentle touch, she rested her head on his strong shoulders, finding comfort in the shared silence that echoed the unspoken complexities of their lives. "Beyond these roles, Finnick, we are survivors. And perhaps, in that truth, we will find something that transcends it all."

Finnick, usually guarded, allowed a hint of gratitude to soften his features. "Maybe you're right, Giselle. Maybe we can be more than the Capitol's expectations."

In that moment, against the backdrop of the fading sunlight and the persistent sound of the sea, Giselle and Finnick found solace in the shared understanding that they were not defined solely by the Capitol's cruel narrative. The breakdown of walls, the admission of vulnerabilities, became the foundation for a connection that held the promise of mutual growth and perhaps, even love.

Days turned into weeks, and the connection between Giselle and Finnick deepened, unspoken emotions weaving through their shared moments. One evening, they found themselves on the same stretch of beach where they had first shared their vulnerabilities.

As they walked along the shoreline, the air thick with unspoken sentiments, Giselle broke the silence. "There's something about this place that feels different when you're here."

Finnick smiled, his gaze lingering on the horizon. "Maybe it's the freedom from the Capitol's expectations, even if just for a moment."

Giselle nodded, a subtle understanding passing between them. They had become each other's refuge in a world that demanded so much and gave so little.

Amidst the soft sounds of the waves, they sat on a weathered piece of driftwood, and Finnick's fingers traced absent patterns in the sand. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than usual, “I never expected to find... comfort in someone like you.”

Giselle looked at him, a mixture of curiosity and warmth in her eyes. “Comfort?”

Finnick hesitated, his sea-green eyes meeting hers. “Yeah. I mean, you get it. The struggle, the weight of it all. It's... comforting.”

She giggled, the sound carrying a tinge of vulnerability. “I never thought I'd find someone who understands this side of me. It's a relief, really.”

As the conversation flowed, the air seemed charged with an energy neither of them could fully comprehend. It was a dance of words, subtle glances, and shared silences, all painting a picture of something more profound than mere friendship.

In the days that followed, their connection grew more pronounced. Each shared glance and lingering touch weaving a tapestry of connection between Finnick Odair and Giselle Snow. In the quiet embrace of District 4's soft evening glow, their growing bond took center stage.

Under the subtle luminescence of district lights, Finnick's thoughtful eyes met Giselle's, and he spoke words that hung in the air like an unspoken promise. "You're changing me, Giselle Snow. And I'm not sure if I want it to stop."

Giselle, bathed in the gentle radiance of the night, met his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. Her lips curved into a soft smile, a response that carried the weight of unspoken understanding.

"Maybe change is what we both need," she whispered, her words a delicate echo in the quiet night. The soft sounds of their shared laughter lingered, a melody that spoke of the intricacies of their evolving connection. In that moment, beneath the district lights, Finnick and Giselle found solace in the uncharted territories of change and the magnetic pull drawing them closer. The lines between friendship and something more blurred, evolving into a connection that surpassed the constraints of their predetermined roles.

One evening, Giselle and Finnick found themselves on the outskirts of District 4, away from the prying eyes of the Capitol and the curious gazes of the district's residents. The moon cast a gentle glow upon the landscape as they stood on a secluded stretch of beach.

The air was filled with a tangible tension, an unspoken understanding that their connection was evolving into something more profound. Giselle, looking out at the vast expanse of the sea, couldn't shake the feeling that they were standing at the edge of a precipice.

Finnick, usually composed, seemed to be wrestling with his own thoughts. As he looked at Giselle, a shared silence unfolded between them. In that unexpected moment of intimacy, their eyes met, and a connection deeper than words was forged.

Without a word, Finnick reached out, his fingers gently brushing against Giselle's hand. It was a subtle touch, a gesture laden with unspoken sentiments. In that brief contact, the weight of their shared experiences, struggles, and unexplored emotions seemed to converge.

Giselle, her heart echoing the rhythm of the waves, looked at him with a mixture of vulnerability and understanding. The touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that was growing between them.

As they continued their quiet stroll along the shoreline, a shared secret hung in the air. Finnick, breaking the silence, spoke softly. "There's something about the sea at night. It makes everything feel... honest."

Giselle nodded, the moonlight casting a glow on her features. "Maybe that's why we find ourselves here, away from the facades and expectations."

In the midst of the tumultuous waters of Panem, Giselle and Finnick discovered that unexpected moments of intimacy held a transformative power. Whether it was a shared glance, a fleeting touch, or the exchange of unspoken truths, these moments deepened their connection, creating a bridge between two souls navigating the complexities of their world.

As they continued to walk along the beach, the sea whispering its secrets to the night, Giselle and Finnick found solace in the unexpected intimacies that wove their connection into a tapestry of shared moments and unexplored emotions. Neither both of them fully realized the depth of their emotions, but the unspoken understanding between them spoke volumes, paving the way for a love that was quietly blooming amidst the complexities of their world.

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