I Would Like To Be Loved Like A Fanfic Or Fucked Like A Fanfic But I Will Take Both Please And Thank

i would like to be loved like a fanfic or fucked like a fanfic but i will take both please and thank you

Coriolanus: i hate you

Lucy Gray: you want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid

No, but for real 10/10!!!!! I love the idea of Tigris rebelling in her own way and being one of the few people that truly remember Lucy Gray Baird and the influence that girl had on people!

Also that part where Coriolanus said “honor them all after someone you didn’t really know,” is the pot calling the kettle black if I ever heard it.

Keep up the amazing writing!!! I’m off to reread all your works again lol (you can’t stop at just once)

somewhere over the rainbow

PART OF neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons by the sea DRABBLE SERIES ↠ masterlist

- Lucy Gray Baird & Daughter!OC, endgame Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow

Summary: 2.6k words - Coriolanus attends Tigris' first fashion collection.

a/n: idk why this is so long, coriolanus thinks a lotta thoughts

tags-list: @cdragons

There was something different about Tigris. Recently, her eyes have regained their twinkle and she pranced around with a determination about her and, dare he say, a glint of defiance. The last he’d seen her looking so dynamic was when he came home from District 12, looking harried but alive, holding in his hand the first among the many checks yet to come from the Plinth Prize.

Coriolanus was not oblivious to the distance that grew between him and Tigris. He had been busy trying to keep up with being apprentice gamemaker and a budding politician. The steps necessary to get from one to another were delicate and had needed all his attention. Coriolanus had thought refurnishing the penthouse and all the benefits his family indirectly reaped from his efforts would be enough to make up for his absence, but Tigris didn’t seem to think so. He’d only been made known of her decision to live on her own one cold morning when he found Tigris in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. She’d been nervous at first but she grew more confident and sure as she explained how it would be more convenient for her and how Ma Plinth would ensure that Grandma’am would be taken care of.

Coriolanus hadn’t been surprised. There’d been something flighty in Tigris eyes, something that had wanted to run ever since she’d made note of his similarity to his late father, ever since he stopped being Coryo to her.

He thought her a bit ungrateful. Why is it that the people he deemed worth keeping have a propensity for shying away from power? Why was he suddenly deemed undesirable just when he has the ability to provide and to protect them? Coriolanus wondered if that was the nature of his moving up in the world, to never be able to have everything and always having to trade what he always had for something greater.

Coriolanus refused to recognize the pervading feeling in his chest as loneliness. If Tigris no longer found her cousin charming because he was not helpless anymore, that was her decision. No matter how many diverging paths she chooses, Coriolanus will make sure that she would never be able to fully get out of his sight. Who knew what she would do when unsupervised? Get into trouble, that was what, if her behavior when given the distinct honor to be a stylist for the Games was any indication.

Coriolanus knew that she was more sympathetic to the tributes than most people. He had thought that giving her the job would curb those tendencies. Tigris had only ever seen the Games through the screen. If she had personal experience with the tributes, maybe she would realize that caring for the lives of the already dead was a futile gesture. There was no moral high ground to be found in it.

Looking back, perhaps it was the nail in the coffin for their once close relationship. Tigris’ first tribute won, but the rest had not been so lucky. There was a tendril of guilt in the sea of satisfaction he felt, seeing the haunted look in her eyes. Do you see it how I see it now? Caring won’t make a difference.

A few months before the 15th Hunger Games was set to begin, Coriolanus had been surprised when he saw Tigris at the breakfast table, conversing with Mrs.— rather, Ma Plinth while Grandma’am quietly ate. He stopped at the doorway, blinking away the sleepiness from staying up too late helping Dr. Gaul with the preparations. Upon seeing him, Ma jumped up excitedly and beckoned him inside the dining room, taking a short trip to the kitchen to fetch him a plate and a cup.

“Come sit, Coriolanus! Tigris has exciting news to share!”

He sat on the chair, picking up the envelope that Tigris slid across the table. The envelope was a sophisticated black color with holographic trimmings that shifted in the light, held close by a pressed flower wax seal. Coriolanus felt Tigris’ eyes on him, cataloging his reaction as he opened the invite to see the words “Tigris Snow’s Spectrum Collection” printed on the card inside.

Tigris’ work never suffered even when her spirits were down; but he felt as if this sudden burst of creativity came out of nowhere.

“I thought it was time for me to put out my first fashion collection,” she said. “I’ve been making custom orders and, of course, styling for the tributes but I’ve just been so inspired lately and, what better timing than doing it just before the Games? I would be too busy by then.” Tigris shook her head. “You’d come, won’t you? All of you. I would appreciate the support in case nobody else accepts the invite.”

“Oh don’t be silly, Tigris, dear. They would be a fool not to come.” Grandma’am interjected. “Only the mentally deficit would reject the invitation of the future president’s cousin.” Coriolanus held back a sigh. He loved the old woman but her fixation on his future presidency grew tiring sometimes.

“Fools indeed, Tigris,” Ma said with a kinder tone. “You’ve got real talent, the kind that changes the world. I can just see it.”

Tigris sent her a grateful smile. “You’re too kind.” She wasn’t wrong about Tigris’ talent even though Coriolanus highly disbelieved the extent to which the Plinth matriarch thought it would reach. These moments show just how district the woman was, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

“And you’re too modest! Be sure to save me a spot. My husband is unfortunately unavailable at that date but I’ll bring my checkbook with me.”

“Checkbook? What for?” It was the first time he’d spoken since waking, his voice scratchy and hoarse. He took a sip of tea to clear his throat.

“I’m holding an auction for the pieces after.” Tigris said. Coriolanus’ brows furrowed in puzzlement. Typically, designers in the Capitol would showcase their collections then maybe do a magazine spread before waiting for orders to come to maximize returns. It was generally a slow process.

“I’m not lacking for money, Coriolanus,” she added, exasperation in her tone. “I just want to create a buzz. You know how the Capitol is, the value lies in how much it takes just to get it. For my collections to have a certain reputation, it has to be held to a high standard since the beginning. If you miss it, you’ll lose it forever. That’s what I want them to know.”

Coriolanus only hummed in response. What she said made sense, but there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that told him that that’s not all there was to it.

Hm, Coriolanus thought, tracing the calligraphy of the date on the card. If he finished the preliminary preparations by the end of the week, he just might be able to swing by. Perhaps it would be worth to find out what inspired his cousin.

Coriolanus began regretting his decision to go the moment he entered Tigris’ shop, which was bursting with a full crowd of Capitol citizens. The venue was ill-suited for the number of attendees. He seriously considered stepping out when a senator and his wife spotted him and called him out, attracting the attention of everybody else. He’d hoped to stay only for a short while, just enough to congratulate Tigris, and then go back to his work. His curiosity, unfortunately, would be left unfulfilled due to the mistake of one of the gamemakers under Dr. Gaul that the entire department was working hard to fix, including him. The Idiot, — because Coriolanus cannot be bothered to remember his name — went into the laboratory completely hungover, knocking over the delicate formulas of a hallucinogenic gas they were supposed to be already testing out two nights before.

He really did not have the patience to deal with people today.

With a practiced smile, he turned to greet Senator Carlisle and his simpering, overly-flirtatious wife. Coriolanus fought a recoil when she kissed his cheek, ruby red lips lingering just a bit too long. People really had no shame nowadays! She was, what, in her 60s now and married for more half of that if Coriolanus remembered correctly. She should be watching her back, not squeezing herself into stiff corsets that pulled her chest nearly to her neck.

Coriolanus was contemplating the merits of murder when he heard his name called out by a familiar voice. He sighed in relief when Tigris pulled him into a perfunctory hug, kissing his cheek and looping her arm around his.

“Thank you for coming, Coriolanus,” she smiled. “Will you excuse us Senator, Mrs. Carlisle? I have to escort my cousin to his seat.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to come,” Tigris said under her breath as she led him forward. “I heard through the grapevine that the gamemakers have been having some trouble with this year’s Games.”

Through the grapevine. If that was what you called the gossip about Dr. Gaul's very loud and very destructive outburst, sure.

“We’re making do,” he answered succinctly, finding his tongue tied about the exasperating details that he would have once shared with her. “We’ll be able to deliver on time, don’t worry.”

She muttered something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like “I wasn’t worried” but they’d already arrived at the seats. Only Ma Plinth was there, kissing his cheeks in greeting as she explained that Grandma’am had felt sickly today, thus the reason for her absence.

“Are you both comfortable? Anything I can get you?” Tigris asked in a rush. Coriolanus observed the telltale fiddling of her gloves that betrayed her nervousness.

“Nothing at all, my dear. I’m alright to just wait for the show.” Ma replied with a comforting smile.

Tigris turned to him. “Same goes with me.”

“Okay. Alright,” she took a deep breath. “The show is starting in a few minutes, I’ll be backstage for the most part, but I’ll be back during the intermission before the auction.”

Tigris turned to walk away before Coriolanus stopped her. He initially wanted to inform her that he was not going to be able to stay long, but sentiment got the best of him. This had been her lifelong dream, put on the back burner when she chose to not attend University in favor of working to support their family, to support him.

“Tigris,” he called out. “Congratulations.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Thank you, Coriolanus.”

The show went relatively well until the last part.

Coriolanus had been sitting back, using the opportunity to relax on the soft seat as he absentmindedly took note of the models walking down the runway. He had always been vaguely aware of the fashion trends, most of his knowledge absorbed by virtue of being around Tigris. The Capitol, recently recovered from the war, had a propensity for fine fabrics in rich colors, trying to chase away the smoke and silence of the Dark Days.

Tigris’ collection was decidedly more out-of the box, extravagant and loud, divided into bright, monochrome outfits following the color spectrum. The crowd ate it up, polite claps graduating to cheers and the occasional wolf whistle. The behavior was a bit uncouth, but he had supposed it was a good indication of just how much money was going to be shelled out later.

He’d been admittedly zoning out, trying to curb the headache that formed just from thinking of the work he needed to go back to when he caught sight of the last model.

Coriolanus’ limbs locked as he saw the rainbow dress. The skirt was layered in full layers of tulle, significantly shorter in front, forming a window, but longer in the back, giving it a slight trail. The blouse was made of sheer fabric with bishop sleeves, the v-neck meeting the dip of an intricately molded breastplate placed on top of it.

That was not his girl. That was not Lucy Gray nor her dress, the model’s hair pin straight and a shade lighter, the dress too new. It was not, but it was close enough that it made his palms clammy, the crowd’s cheer a dull roar in his ears.

Ma Plinth was saying something, but Coriolanus could only blankly agree to whatever it was, everything else drowned out by anger and the persistent urge to run.

So he did.

He slammed the door behind him, taking in a deep breath of the crisp air outside of Tigris’ shop.

He didn’t know how much time passed, and just why he didn’t immediately go back to his office, when the door opened more gently than he shut it. Tigris leaned on the glass beside him, irritatingly silent.

“You should pull out that collection.”

Tigris did a double-take. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I wish I didn’t,” she hissed. “The answer is no, Coriolanus.”

“Dear Tigris, right now I am asking quite nicely, aren’t I?” Coriolanus replied acidly. “I doubt you’d like me to resort to other methods. You know, I could eliminate your career before it even takes off. I could make it so that nobody would step into your little shop and all the clothes on that stage right now would gather dust.”

“You’d make them forget, then? What, just like how you made everybody forget about Lucy Gray Baird?” In his youth, Coriolanus rarely incurred Tigris’ wrath. In fact, Tigris was rarely mad at all, even when her ex-employer Fabricia would clearly take advantage of her time and skills. Right now, she had all but forgotten that restraint, face flushed and eyes flashing at him. “You think that I don’t know? Flickerman has said nothing about her or the 10th Hunger Games ever since then, and during his late night show where he made mention of a particular “songbird”, his feed was cut immediately, coming back after a few minutes due to “technical error.” She’s always skipped over during the re-runs of the Victors every year, and even the library archives don’t have the tapes, and they have everything dating back from the 1st.

“You know what, Coriolanus? You want to try to erase her existence in your life, fine. But you don’t have a monopoly on her memory. Other people are allowed to miss her, to remember her, or to be inspired by her.”

Coriolanus sputtered, not even trying to deny her accusations of tampering with the records. He could have said it was Dr. Gaul who had done it, which was the truth, but he didn’t counteract his mentor’s decisions either. “You think I did it because I want— because I miss her?” he asked incredulously.

“Don’t you?” she asked. “I think that you miss her so much that you hate it. You hate that something so simple as color and clothes reminds you of her. I think that because you couldn’t cage her, you’d make it so that you’ll be the only one who remembers her. And god forbid anybody else does.”

“Lucy Gray is nothing to me!” Coriolanus growled, jaw clenched to prevent himself from shouting. He could feel the tension forming at his temples. Tigris didn’t know him at all. “She was an insignificant girl from an insignificant district, who would have died without me. She’s nothing more than a mistake I learned the hard way, a ghost that’s better left alone.”

“A ghost,” Tigris echoed. “Is that why she haunts you now? Coriolanus, what did you do to her?”

The snake bite on his arm that had long since scarred over throbbed. “You know what, I don’t care. Keep making your dresses however you desire. Hell, honor them all after someone you didn’t really know.” He straightened his coat and stepped away from Tigris. “But I will make sure that you never escape the Games, Tigris. Every year, you’ll work with a tribute and you can dress them in whatever latest act of defiance you made. And every year, they will die and die and die. Then you’ll learn that all this is for nothing.”

Fashion Mistakes

Pairings: Ikaris x Persephone!Eternal!Reader (Sephia) and Druig x Hecate!Eternal!Reader (Kaetlyn) Words: ~2.5 k Summary: Sephia needs a wardrobe upgrade, and Sersi is as much as a menace as Kaet sometimes Warning: Probably very inaccurate descriptions of historical fashion trends, Sersi is a 10/10 shipper, Kaety is dramatic AF, Druig is an unbothered king Notes: This drabble was inspired by a scene in 27 dresses, if you know you know. Please reblog and like and comment! Shoutout to @ethereal-athalia & @valeskafics for being the most supportive people on this platform!

You loved your sisters. But there were times where the two of them could be a bit…much, especially when they worked together. This was evident by how the two Eternals razed through her closet to sort out her clothes to decide which were to be kept, and which would be discarded. Every piece of furniture or tile on the floor was covered in an array of textiles and patterns as if a hurricane ran through a fabric store.

“Is this really necessary?” you groaned out.

“Yes,” came the two voices in unison.

“Don’t I at least get a say in what I get to keep?”

“No.”

“Can you the two of you at least look at me before you throw everything away?”

“Can’t.” “In the zone.”

“Druig?” you looked over to her brother-in-law for help, hoping that he could maybe talk his wife down. “Do you think you could maybe help me out here?”

The mind-controller Eternal was watching the same scene as his distressed sister, only with a much more amused gaze. He looked extremely out of place in the sea of colors in his ensemble of handmade cotton shirt layers with dark blue linen pants. The only accessories he donned were the ebony wood beaded bracelet Kaety commissioned for him over 500 years ago, along with the golden ring he wore on a chain from their private wedding.

“Unfortunately, Sephia,” he began, “I’m afraid that you’re unable to convince my angel, I won’t be much more help. But you are more than welcome to keep trying. Perhaps in your success, you may convince her to spare me a glance. As much as I adore time spent with our daughters, I feel a bit defenseless on my own.”

It was only when Kaety heard her husband’s little quip that she broke her concentration. She pouted her lips to show her displeasure, but only for a short moment before she crossed the room to embrace the man she’s loved for her entire lifetime. The pure love and adoration that shone in the pair’s eyes made it feel like you were the one intruding on a private moment than the other three in your own room. It baffled you sometimes to witness the pair’s love. It often left you wondering if you would ever be able to have a love and bond as strong as theirs in your future. But after living for over seven millennium, you knew that the odds were not in your favor.

“Feeling lonely, my love?” she asked so sweetly. “How cruel of me to neglect you in favor of someone else.” You rolled her eyes at her best friend’s facetious pity, Kaety loved teasing her husband almost as much as Druig loved teasing her. There truly weren’t two souls more meant for one another than the other.

Sometimes the site of their tender smiles and private laughs made your heart feel a bit heavy, since it hasn’t been long since you realized your own longings for love, especially towards a certain man with silver streaks and blue eyes.

“Sephia is right though,” commented Sersi, “we’re going to need more people to help out if we’re going to sort through this mess out. Are you sure Phastos can’t come?”

“It’s not so much he can’t, but more that he won’t.” Kaety explained whilst still locked in Druig’s embrace as he laid small kisses across her face. “He’s still insisting that the last time he was here, some of the ghosts latched on to him and took residence in his house when he got back.”

“And that claim would be completely out the question, why?” you quizzically asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Because they weren’t ghosts.” Kaetlyn stated in a matter-of-factly tone. “They were hobgoblins. And it’s not like they caused any trouble anyway! Ben and Jack didn’t even notice anything.”

“I still can’t believe that you managed to convince Phastos to let you babysit Jack. How do you explain it to Jack when he sees you do magic, or whenever the twins see something that he can’t?” Sersi asked as she continued to sort through the closet to see what else needed to be discarded.

“Oh come on! You make it sound like I’m incapable of not using magic for everything! I am more than able to not use it for a couple of hours, and the twins are still at an age when they point at something, we can just say it’s their imagination at work. Isn’t that right, my beloved?”

“Of course, my angel,” replied Druig, “but in the defense of our friend, our girls picked up on your tendency to pick up scary strays. Especially the kind who happen to have sharp teeth and a taste for humans.” His aquamarine eyes gleamed in mirth at his wife’s pout.

“How can you say that?!” Kaetlyn exclaimed indignantly as she lightly shoved his shoulder. “You make them sound as if they are no different from deviants, when they are far more adorable and lovable!”

“Only those with your blood will find such creatures ‘lovable,’” remarked your husband who would soothe your piecing gaze with a graze of his lips on your cheek, “my beautiful, beautiful Kaetlyn, Mother of Witches and Monsters indeed.” His last words whispered out so softly as he leaned in to kiss his beautiful wife, a kiss she eagerly reciprocated.

“Alright you two, let’s focus on the task at hand,” Sersi interjected the lovers’ quarrel, “so Phastos is out of the question in terms of helping?”

“Probably for the best anyway,” you confirmed, “Kaety still insists that his style is too much of a homebody.”

“Anyone who owns that many cardigans and sweater vests is already mentally prepared to be placed in a home.”

“But thankfully for us,” Sersi added on with a little gleam in her eyes, “I had enough foresight to predict our issue and already invited someone here to help us.”  

“Please tell me you didn’t invite Kingo,” pleaded Druig, “I don’t think I can handle another one of those ‘tea parties’ he and Laoise and Aisling insist on putting on every time he visits.”

“No, it’s not Kingo,” placated Sersi, “but he should be here at any moment.”

She had that look in her eye that matched Kaetlyn whenever she came up with another one of her “ingenious” ideas.

“Um, he?” asked Kaety. “Whomst is this ‘he’?”

And like a stroke of magic, a knock broke them out of their conversation. And four pairs of eyes locked at the sight of a single man with a silver streak in his hair and devastatingly beautiful blue eyes that stood with so much self-importance you could choke on it five miles out.

“Judging by the look in your eyes,” he stated to break the shocked silence, “I can assume that I wasn’t expected to be here?” Whatever he was about to say next died in his throat at the sight of Sephia. The overloading smugness in his eyes softened to awestruck adoration when he took in the love of his life.

Here you stood, healthy and beaming, so different from the pale and tired figure that he had to come to terms with for the past 400 years. Here was Sephia, his Sephia, lively and standing and in good health. You weren't wearing the drab and shapeless dark blue and light gray garments that hid her sinful figure from the crowd. You instead wore a pair of dark blue wash flared jeans, along with a square neckline white floral patterned peasant blouse, paired with antique statement rings and delicate necklace. It was as if you was brought straight from an issue of Vogue in the seventies.

“Ikaris,” you whispered.

“Stars,” he thought, “even her voice no longer sounds as strained.”

Thanos ruined plenty of lives, made a mockery of the Avengers, and wasted 7000 years of hard labor in postponing Tiamut’s emergence with just a single snap of his fingers. But in Ikaris’ mind, all of that was justified if it meant he got to see his flower blooming in all of her rarity, as opposed to withering away in a dark and damp jungle. Half of the universe was gone now, but Sephia was healthy and alive and strong – and that meant even more to Ikaris than failing his mission to Arishem.

On the other side of the room, you stood in silence as she took in the sudden appearance of your friend. Partially in mortification that he was seeing the state of her room in the mess it was in. But a larger part in joy in seeing your friend who long became the man you gave her heart to since the first time he decided to wait outside the commune’s borders because you wanted to show him your garden. But all in shock that he decided to willingly come so close to Druig and Kaet in their home where their children reside far from the rest of humanity.

“Ikaris!” Sersi exclaimed with a tone that convinced no one that she didn’t plan this happening. “Thank Arishem you’re here! Luckily, we’ve already decided to keep everything up to the late 19th century, but from here on out we need to sort through the past 10 decades to make room for a more modern ensemble. In fact, you really do have great timing because I need to go somewhere right now, and so do Kaety and Druig. SO, we will just leave you two alone!”

Silence still rang through the air as one pair could only stare in longing for the other, while another pair stood next to one another in disbelief as one other person was basically shoving out the door. But silence was not for long as Kaety took matters in her own hands as she turned to her beaming friend in trademark green once all three were all out of earshot.

“Sersi, what Lovecraftian fuckery are you pulling right now?”

You stood in one of your favorite Thea Porter’s dresses, trying very hard to calm the rapid beating of her heart, all to prepare herself to once more face the man on the other side of the changing screen. You never expected to see him in your room, still as ruggedly handsome as he would always remain. You never expected to have these feelings for Ikaris- for anyone really- but they grew to the point where by the time you recognized it, you was already in the middle. Feeling your face heat and fluster, you put your hair in a simple and loose braid in attempt to cool herself. Stepping into view, you tried your best to seem calm and collected, but everything inside you felt anything but that.

“This is one of my favorite dresses,” you stated, “what do you think?”

“I think you need to take off that dress and wrap those legs around me so I can take you on every surface of this house in a tree,” was the first thing that came to Ikaris’ mind. But he couldn’t say exactly that, and so all he stated was the second thought in his mind. “You’re beautiful Sephia, you’ve always been beautiful in everything you wear.”

The sincerity swimming in his eyes made you wish you could drown in them. Blushing mad with a shy smile, you did her best to not seem like you wasn’t bursting at the seams from joy at his words. “Ikaris, the only way I’ll be able to get rid of anything is if you be honest.”

“Sephia,” Ikaris replied, “there is truly no one on this planet who could ever compare to you, in radiance and in beauty. I honestly can’t think of anything that wouldn’t look perfect on you.”

“Well, I do have something that I think may change that opinion,” you remarked with a twinkle in your eyes before dashing inside your closet to grab something and once more hiding behind the change screen. “Wait for a little bit, it takes a while to put on!”

After a few minutes of audible struggling, Ikaris was tempted to ask you if you needed any help taking off putting on your outfit, when you announced that you was done and then stepped into view, and Ikaris’ eyes grew wide with horror.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a hobble skirt!” you exclaimed, far too amused by reaction. “It was a very short-lived trend in the US from 1908 to 1914. Its popularity declined during World War I.”

“I can see why,” Ikaris remarked, “are they at all comfortable?”

“Oh, not at all. But they did serve as inspiration for the sheath skirts in the 1950s.”

“Sheath skirts?”

“Pencil skirts, I suppose. But it does look awful, doesn’t it?”

“Ugh, terrible. Is this the worst one you have?”

“Oh no, this doesn’t even come close.” You went back to your vintage treasure trove to search for a particularly dreadful ensemble, and what you pulled out could only be described as an antebellum nightmare. “This is my favorite, by far.”

“Oh my-” Ikaris’ hand covered his mouth in horror, “what the hell is that? And please tell me that you didn’t actually commission this to be made for you.”

“You’ll be happy to find out that I did not ask for this to be made for me. It was a gift from the matriarch a very sweet family I was staying with during my travels in 1850s.”

“Gift? Sephia, that’s not a ‘gift.’ That’s a punishment in the form of flouncing yellows, oversized orange flowers, and what I assume to be 15 layers of petticoats.”

“10 layers, and this is only the dress. Wait till you see the bonnet that comes with it.”

“Oh gods – there’s a bonnet?”

“And a matching parasol.”

Momentary silence echoed between them before a huge grin spread across his face. “That’s it, you need to put that on, right now.”

For the next several hours, the two went through only the very worst contents of Sephia’s closet. From the green taffeta balloon dress from the 80s to the orange ballerina dress that looked it was designed by a ballet-obsessed 8-year-old, they spent the entire day laughing and smiling more than either had in the last five centuries. The sight of it all made Sersi so happy in knowing she had been the cause of this success.

“You know what you’re doing is really creepy, right?” Druig commented, bringing his friend out of her dreams of planning her friends’ future wedding as she continued to spy at the happy almost-couple with Kaety’s magic.

“If watching Ikaris cutely interact with the love of his life through your wife’s magic shadow thingy so that I can get enough pictures for the slideshow I’m making for their future wedding, then fine I’m creepy.”

A soft babble from the babe sitting on her father’s lap prevented Druig from remarking on that “fascinating” idea as he peered down to see his four-month-old daughter point a chubby finger to her mother who was lying face-down on the floor as her sister sat on top of their Mami.

“Sorry little dove, Mummy can’t play right now. She’s in mourning.”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @its-actually-minicika, @tess-love, @asa-do-your-thing, @sunphyre , @myfairkatiecat, @beananacake, @tesha-i-guess, @kyliesgwagon, @getawaycardotmp3, @littledoveofchaos, @she-wintersoldat, @lavenderwisteria, @jolixtreesunn, @bitchylesbian

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Ikaris and Sephia live for the seasons changing, especially during the colder months. It always means that they get a chance to warm up in the morning more...intimately 😘

Fall Family Chaos Fun - An Ikaris x Persephone!Eternal Halloween Oneshot

Pairings: Sephia x Ikaris Word Count: ~2.1k Summary: A lil'l slice of insight to how Ikaris' and Sephia's home life goes in the fall with their three gremlins angels. This fic also introduces a lot of new characters that will make strong appearances in future works of this AU! Warning(s): Heavy petting on Ikaris' part (man's a horndog for our Sephie), Aggie is a menace who takes after her Aunt Kaety, Ikaris is older than dirt and doesn't understand teens, Laurie being a teen, and Sephia & Arthur just being adorable

Notes: Yes, I know that Halloween has technically passed, but I had midterms and projects during the time so I'm using the rest of the season as a Free Fall fics pass until December. So this oneshot was beta read by the ever-so lovely @ethereal-athalia, who has so graciously sacrificed herself agreed to beta read all of my fics for the upcoming future while my usual beta reader @valeskafics, is currently really busy with law school until the foreseeable future! Even so, please go visit her blog because she is one of the best writers on Tumblr, especially if you are a fan of Ewan Mitchell, and the HOTD/GOT universe! If you have read any of my past works, you know that my girl @ethereal-athalia is pretty much the co-parent of this Eternals AU idea, and I absolutely love sharing ideas with her, and making connections to make these fics more interesting. Anyway, please be kind and enjoy!

Somewhere deep in an enchanted forest hidden from most of the world, there stood an impressive house. This house was the home to a very special family. It was built by a beautiful woman and her besotted husband, and became their home for them and their three incredible children. Every day the home was laughter and peace and a calming air-

“DADDDDDDD! HAVE YOU SEEN MY CLOAK?”

-unless it was October, December, summer, or… actually, it hard to remember when the word “calm” could be used to describe their home.

“Which one Aggie?”

“The one that had the pretty gold swirls and stars! I need it to match with Hamy!”

“Aggie sweetie, I put it on the chair next to Pope Butterscotch the Golden Sheep!”

“Thanks mommy!”

“Mama? Have you seen Bun-Bun?”

“Bun-Bun had an accident with the breakfast this morning, so I put him in the wash! But he should be waiting for you in the dryer!”

“Thanks, Da!”

A frazzled Ikaris crouched on top of the stairwell, scrubbing away the evidence of markers and crayons from the wall-paint. When the colored outlines were only just barely visible, he made his way down the stairwell to find the one person whose sole presence would wash away all his fatigue. Standing over the massive sink - bathed in golden sunlight - stood the love of his eternal and immortal life. You were washing the vegetables that came from their gardens. Ikaris saw an array of vegetables – carrots that ranged from yellow to dark purple, deep red beetroots and radishes, a mountain of spinach, and a pumpkin of impressive size (just to new a few).

With sweat running down her brow and small streaks of dirt on your cheek, you was a vision of pure beauty. Ikaris could spend all his time listing all the parts he loved about you, and the Earth would long be dead from war and famine and any other forms of destruction that came from humanity. No time with you would be enough- it would never be enough. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Ikaris lowered his head until his nose was pressed into the crook of your neck.

Taking in a deep breath, your natural essence of clean and fresh aromas overtook his senses as a wave of calm washed over him. Your natural perfume mixed with the notes of your sweat formed a new sweet and tantalizing fragrance that caused a growl to emerge deep from his throat as Ikaris started to lay kisses over your skin. Given your deep connection to the Earth, your scent always seemed to change with the seasons. As the autumn chill chased away the summer breeze, gone were the fresh and soft fragrances of grapefruit and sandalwood. But Ikaris did not mind the loss as he took notice of notes of patchouli and orange. Reaching behind you to stroke your husband’s hair, you let a light chuckle escape under your breath.

“If you’re hoping to get lucky,” you teased with a mirthful smirk, “I would suggest that you wait until I am not sweating like a pig with dirt all over me.”

“Please,” Ikaris scoffed, “you say that if I haven’t taken you in the dirt a thousand times by now, each time leaving you more flushed with sweat than you washing some greens.” He emphasized his point by creeping his hands under your the massive green and cream flannel you stole from his closet until he reached your breasts. His eyes widened slightly at the lack of a certain apparel, until the corners of his mouth curled to a lecherous grin.

“No bra today?” He whispered with a low and husky tone. “Such a naughty flower, I wonder if I touched you down there, would I find your cunt bare and dripping, or your underwear soaked?” He pinched your nipple to emphasize his point, and let his ears drink in your soft mewling.

“Ikaris,” you rasped, “our kids could walk in any moment-”

“DAD! ARTHUR STOLE MY RIBBON!”

“NUH-UH! AND IT WAS BUN-BUN’S RIBBON FIRST, SO AGGIE STOLE IT FIRST!”

“DID NOT!” “DID TOO!” “DID NOT!” “DID TOO!”

“DAAAAAAADDDDDDDDDDDDDD!”

Lightly chuckling at the immediate downfallen expression on your husband’s face in response to their children’s call to him. Turning your head to press a kiss on his furrowed brow, you reassured him that you would play the mediator this time.

“And while I’m at it,” you reasoned, “you can check on our less problematic son.”

“Laurie?” Ikaris’ expression immediately shifted to worry. “Is he alright? Has he experienced any chest pains or breathing troubles? He barely finished his breakfast this morning. Do I need to call Kaet-”

“No, no, no,” you reassured, already on damage control to prevent her husband from hovering over their firstborn like he had when Laurie was still a baby. “He’s just been holed up in his room all day, and I want to make sure that he isn’t overly stressed about anything.” You pressed her palm on his face, and stroked your thumb across his cheek. “Don’t worry so much, it might just be teen angst – Sersi told us that it’s very common at his age!”

Still a bit disturbed at his son’s unusual behavior, Ikaris quickly kissed your palm before making his way up the deep mahogany stairwell. Thinking over the past few months, Ikaris was making mental notes of his son’s strange behavior. He knew that it wasn’t his studies or his athletics at school, but he was acting more secretive. He would come home later than usual, check his phone more frequently, and even finish his meals as quickly as possible to dash to his room.

Quickly flying past the many rooms – including the one that was currently occupied by his two youngest children, who were still arguing over the correct ownership over a particularly shiny ribbon – he finally made it to the end of the hall where his first child’s room was located. On the deep red-stained wood was a little piece of signage that was covered in laurel leaves with the only negative space spelling out “Laurie.” Softly knocking three times twice (a little signal between father and son) before a soft voice was heard through the door.

“Come in,” called out his son as Ikaris gently opened the door, a faint creak screeched out from the worn-down hinge and its pin. At first glance, the main focus of the room would be the queen-sized bed frame with a hand-embroidered eggshell-white cotton quilt, or the thousands of stars that were painted on the ceiling, or even the gilded golden crossbow hanging over his bed. But all the Eternal could focus on was the sight of his eldest child, Laurus Orion Harris, or “Laurie” as was so lovingly dubbed by his glorious wife. And he couldn’t help but feel immense pride in the fact that he had any part (even if it was only genetically) in creating the child in front of him.

“Everything alright dad?” Laurie asked.

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” Ikaris replied, “well, your mother is trying to separate your brother and sister over a very sparkly ribbon. But other than that, everything is fine.” He paused for a minute to notice that his eldest was acting a bit antsy, as if he was expecting something very important. “But are you sure there isn’t anything bothering you?”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just unusual for you to be holed up in your room. It’s usually not because of your studies because your Aunt Sersi always tells your mum and me how well you’re doing. At the very least, you’d probably be outside enjoying the changing leaves with your horse.” Ikaris tried not to seem too intrusive, his son had the right to his own privacy after all, and he trusted him to always make good choices. But with everything he had seen for the past few months, he wanted to make sure that Laurie wasn’t involved in anything dangerous. “I just want you to know that if there’s anything that’s at all bothering you, me or your mum are always going to be there to listen.”

Laurie took in what his dad said, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to tell him a little bit. “Well, now that you mention it. I was just wondering…do you think Uncle Gil and Aunt Thena will bring Mara and Uriel over for Hamish’s birthday?”

And suddenly everything was clear for Ikaris. It was no wonder his child had been acting so nervous lately.

“Laurie,” he began, “are you worried over how you’ll act around Thena’s new ward?”

When his fourteen-year-old son’s face turned bright red, Ikaris knew he hit the nail on the head.

“You know, if you’re really that worried, I can ask Thena and Gil to maybe reconsider coming this year. I am sure they’ll understand, it’s only been a little over a year since-”

“NO! That’s alright!” Laurie was so panicked that he didn’t even notice his voice cracking, “I don’t want to do that to Hamish, he looks forward to all of us coming together for his birthday. And I rarely see Uncle Gil and Aunt Thena that much as it is – plus, Aggie seems to be alright with her, and Arthur is already getting along with Uriel really well. So…I just want to make sure that she knows that she’s welcome and…safe with us.”

“Oh my sweet boy,” mentally sorrowed Ikaris, “that little fire hellion has got him petrified.” No matter how long since it’s been since he last fought, the Eternal would tell when someone was trying to put on a brave face. Not wanting to embarrass his son, Ikaris decided that it would be best to just drop the matter for now. Worst case scenario, he would no issue to take matters in his own hands if that little flame demon tried to pull anything on Laurie like she had the first time.

“Alright,” he relented, “but you shouldn’t worry so much. I’m sure that you two will soon be good friends. But if there is anything that happens with her that makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, you tell me or you mum straight away. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah dad, I understand.”

“Good, I want you to know that-”

“DADDDDD! ARTHUR STILL WON’T GIVE ME BACK MY RIBBON!”

“THAT’S BECAUSE IT ISN’T YOUR RIBBON, IT’S BUN-BUN’S RIBBON!”

Letting out a deep sigh before walking over to the foot of the bed next to his son, Ikaris swept aside a bit of his unruly curls to drop a quick kiss on the top of his forehead. A wave of rosemary and frankincense wafted into his nose.

“Seems like your mum needs some help,” he chuckled, “remember what I told you. I love you.”

“Love you too dad,” replied Laurie as he watched his father walk out of his room and closing the door. He tried his best to gather his thoughts for the upcoming holiday, but that was easier said than done.

“Agalia Sersi Harris!” He heard his mother yell out – which happened very rarely. “You tell Germain to lower your brother on the ground this instant young lady!”

Not being able to hold back the laugh escape his throat, Laurie let out a series of soft chuckles. He thought back to all of the comments his friends at his school would make about his family.

They would marvel over how his mum would always make sure his lunches would look so delicious, and laugh whenever he never rejected her hugs and kisses.

Sometimes, they’d jealously gripe over how close he would be with his dad because he would always be there for his games and always act so proud of how he played – even if he did terribly.

There was the occasional snide comment about how Aggie would act so uppity and prissy, and then they’d immediately piss themselves at the sight of her barreling toward them at full speed to deliver her fury.

And then they would talk about how weird it’d be whenever Little Ari would always try to play with them, and Laurie would never brush him off and make sure that there was a way to include him.

It made the young man sad to realize that it wasn’t considered “normal” to be so close to your own parents and siblings. But if being a “normal” meant having to pretend that he didn’t have most incredible family in the history of the world, then he would gladly wear the title “freak” proudly.

I hope you enjoyed reading this fic! Please drop a like if you did enjoy it, and also a reblog or comment if you look forward to reading more!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @3vergr3en, @its-actually-minicika, @asa-do-your-thing, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @hypnoticmistake, @vikingqueen28, @tacorice, @deanthomaswhore, @angelnyx, @getawaycardotmp3, @redheadspark, @sunphyre, @bambiandbam, @diaryofapillowprincess, @karimac, @spacetalbot, @beananacake, @snowprincesa1, @littledoveofchaos, @prettyvintageafternoon, @themeanestlittlewitch

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…I need some context

i fucking kNEW doja cat wouldnt beef with a child who was normal. I DONE KNEW THAT NOAH SCHNAPP WAS A CUNT

Dude if Annie Rose sings the “Ballad of Lucy Gray” on the ukulele during her interview with Lucky Flickerman, I’m officially going to lose my shit laughing at President Snow

the 26th hunger games

PART OF neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons by the sea DRABBLE SERIES ↠ masterlist

- Lucy Gray Baird & Daughter!OC, endgame Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow

Summary: 1.5k words - Annie gets reaped as District 12's female tribute.

a/n: those who read annie's original name...no you didn't. i just realized that Covey names include a color as their second name lol

"And for our final tribute from District 12…" Flickerman squinted at his card, confusion overtaking his features. "Annabel Rose Baird."

Annie's blood froze in her veins. The sounds of gasps and general unease of her classmates were drowned by the high-pitched noise of panic in her ears. Her full name was something she’d not heard often, only spoken by her mother when she’s feeling particularly irate with her, and by Annie herself in the mirror every morning, trying to remind herself that she was still her mother’s daughter, despite having to hide the fact from virtually everyone she knew.

Her Ma, oh god. Annie hoped she and Tigris were together watching so they might find some semblance of comfort in each other. After all the hardships she faced just to keep her alive, only to see her daughter put on the chopping block for the same twisted games that still gave her nightmares, it was too much for one to bear.

Flickerman looked around fretfully, nervously tapping his ear piece. "It seems the feed won't come from District 12, folks but from our own…academy."

The big screen was suddenly filled with Annie's pale face. Compared to the other transmissions, this one was more grainy, likely coming from a security camera. It would be a huge giveaway otherwise.

On it, the balm she applied on her lips earlier looked almost blood red on the canvas of her skin. The words "Annabel Rose Baird" were shining in bright letters. She could feel her heart rate pick up. Her right hand twitched, wanting to follow the soothing motion she typically does over her chest, but her limbs were locked.

"Well, that was certainly a surprise. But the Capitol has confirmed that the Academy's district scholars are not discounted from the reaping. This is certainly a step up from last year’s Quarter Quell. It seems our gamemakers are very hard at work to keep us on our toes!" Flickerman laughed awkwardly.

Lies, thought Annie. She and her Ma read that contract top to bottom, ensuring nothing in it would endanger her. Besides, Tigris was the one who offered the opportunity to her and she would never have agreed to be her scholarship sponsor if this was included in the conditions.

Annie tuned out the Flickerman’s parting words. The silence after the broadcast had ended only served to highlight the drumbeat of her heart. She only snapped to attention when two Peacekeepers seemed to have come out of nowhere, guns at hand and ready to escort her.

Cassius was the first to block them, then followed the rest of her friends and the other district scholars. Annie felt more grounded as she watched her classmates form a wall around her. She surveyed their faces. Annie didn’t know most of them but she had observed over the years how the district scholars became friends with the Capitol students, softening their perception and treatment of people coming from the districts compared to the generations before them. Did the Capitol expect this, she wondered, when they first accepted twenty-four district scholars in the hallowed halls of their Academy?

She looked up to the stands where President Snow stood. He had a glazed look to his eyes, as if seeing a ghost. Did he know, then? Was he starting to figure out?

A thrum of nervousness went through Annie, that part of her that always sought out his approval rearing up. What would he think of her now, the girl who he’d promised to take under his wing after graduating at the Academy? Was he looking back at their every interaction over the years, looking for the signs that led to this moment?

“Stand down.” The Peacekeepers cocked their guns, making her classmates flinch. Despite the bravado, they were just children, and some of them never had any reason their whole life to fear the Capitol’s military arm.

Cassius had the gall to step in front of one of the Peacekeepers, the muzzle pressing to his chest. Annie wanted to scream at the brave, stupid boy. Wasn’t it only last year that this same boy was antagonizing her, calling her a Snow bastard child and Capitol-wannabe? He wasn’t wrong on the former, but he had been thinking about the wrong person as her parent.

“Back off!” Cassius shouted. “Annabel Rose is not going to be a tribute!”

Shouts of agreement rose up in the crowd. “The reaping policy is bullshit, they never said that when they sent out the acceptance letters for district scholars!”

From the stands, Crane stood up, looking annoyed at the proceedings. “And you district bastards wouldn’t have had any opportunities if the Capitol hadn’t picked up you up,” he said. “You would be starving still, and illiterate, dying in the slums you call home. Stop being so ungrateful. The least you could do is provide entertainment.”

The sound of a fist smashing against his cheek echoed in the auditorium. After the first punch was thrown, it was utter pandemonium. Annie ducked, narrowly missing getting a black eye. She had to get out of here fast. If the chaos went on for long enough maybe she could slip through the gates and run to Tigris’ house. If she knew her mother, she would be packing their things already. They would just need a mode of transportation so they could get out of this—

Annie startled when someone grabbed her arm, almost kicking the person until she realized it was President Snow. Damn, she hadn’t even made it to the door.

“I—" I need to go, please let me go, was what she wanted to say. Annie knew he was not indifferent to her. By virtue of being a talented student who was also close to Tigris, he treated her more warmly and gave her more privileges compared to any other student from the Academy, Capitol or not. Annie might not be the Dean’s golden student but, in her opinion, President Snow’s attention was far more worth than any praise from Dr. Gaul.

Annie didn’t know how far his regard went, if he appreciated her for her use or for her as a person. It was difficult to read him no matter how hard she tried.

President Snow seemed like he wanted to say something when the Peacekeepers began firing. They both jumped. Annie wanted to break away from him to run but he was quick to pull her behind him.

“What in Panem’s name do they think they’re doing?” he muttered angrily. Annie peeked around his side and, to her relief, nobody seemed to be gravely injured. The Peacekeepers had fired into the air as some sort of warning. There was no damage besides the holes on the ceiling of the auditorium.

A bark of laughter broke through the ensuing silence. Dr. Volumnia Gaul clapped slowly. Annie couldn’t tell if her piercing stare was directed at her or the president.

“Well that was some spectacle!” she said. “You’ve all provided such a good performance, but alas, the matter has been decided.” Well, that answered the question of who was responsible for the sudden change. But the question was why? Annie never antagonized Dr. Gaul nor given her any reason to suspect her identity. Why now?

“It hasn’t been.” President Snow’s clear voice answered. “Decided, that is. How come, Dean Gaul, that it is only now that I hear of this change? It certainly wasn’t detailed in the proposal you sent to me.”

Neither of them seemed concerned about the well-being of the Academy students, engrossed in what looked like a power play that stemmed from an ongoing argument. Meanwhile, Annie’s classmates were congregating together, assisting the injured ones onto chairs. The few brave ones skirted past the Peacekeepers to retrieve first-aid kits from the clinic.

“After the success of last year’s Quarter Quell, I thought I would create another twist of my own making, seeing how much our audiences loved it. And isn’t that our purpose, President Snow? To entertain?” Dean Gaul smiled toothily, teeth stark white against her blood-red lips. “Besides, Mr. Crane had the right idea of it— somewhat. What would the people think of us, President Snow, if we started treating fodder as our equals?”

The crowd stood divided. It was a strange sight. Stranger yet, perhaps, that the president was on theirs (hers?).

“Or perhaps your outlook has changed since Sejanus Plinth?” President Snow stiffened. Dean Gaul caught his reaction, looking like the cat that got the cream.

“Sejanus was my friend,” he answered. “It is partly in his honor that our Academy’s district scholars are given the opportunity here in the Capitol, under my express approval, to be given the privilege of knowledge and a good future. To share what the common Capitol citizen has.”

“I will not be criticizing your…initiative, esteemed president,” she said in a tone that definitely meant she was criticizing heavily. “In fact, I’ll give her that. A privilege to be the first from the District 12 tributes to enjoy the mentorship program like how it was intended to be.”

No—

Two Peacekeepers came in, marching forward a woman who was, for all intents and purposes, forgotten by the Capitol.

“Ma!”