rimeoverreason

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100 Palette Challenge | Apollo/Artemis in #19

poem (x) 

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The Opening Scene of The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023)

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coryo loves being manhandled, and I'm glad we (snowjanus nation) can all agree on that

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@d2sejanus--plinth

It had all happened suddenly and without any prior warning or buildup. He had simply gone to bed one evening after a mentally laborious day of officer training in District Two and the next morning he'd been brought into his superior's office to hear he would be returning to the Capitol promptly. The sequence of events that followed were still a blur but they somehow led to where he now currently was, headed back home.

Coriolanus found himself aboard the train and the thoughts in his head were still whipping by as fast as the scenery out the window. There was only one District between him and the Capitol, between him and the life he fought hard to not forget. Tigris, the Grandma'am. That he's returning so soon should put a spark in their eyes and he couldn't wait to surprise them. There was another who also wrapped around his heart, one that he couldn't shake the feeling had something to do with his swift return. One whose hands he could still feel tug upon his dogtags. Would he be at the station waiting for him? The only one there for his arrival, just as he was the only one at the station in District 12 for his departure.

The concrete weight of reality began to settle upon his shoulders. This was one more chapter closing and a fresh page being flipped over. The expanse of barren land out through the window would soon give way to both familiar and untrodden paths. Coriolanus felt the pressure start to build in his head, felt the pull once again within his very core. He hoped he wouldn't have to get right into things. He hoped he would have some time to think, some time to just be.

The train began to slow and Coriolanus picked up his officer's cap which he'd set on the seat beside him. Sweeping his thumb over the stitching his teeth found his lower lip; even such intense training couldn't keep his nerves at bay. But he couldn't step off the train looking frazzled, even if the entire station was empty. He had to fill that pit in his stomach and meet this next chapter head on. After putting his cap on and slinging his back over his shoulder Coriolanus walked to the door of the train car and already the echoing sounds of the station met his ears. Not much had changed from what he could make out so far as he stepped down onto the platform and it filled him with a sense of anticipation.

It only took a few more steps before he was stopped, coming toe to toe with that presence he'd sorely been without for months. "You know you don't have to worry about making a good impression on me anymore," he stated, the words barely holding back an imminent flood of emotion.

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yes & no by natalie wee

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@d2sejanus--plinth you have been a godsend😭

i really believe that discussing the character with someone who shares ur interpretation is the closest u can get to modern day philosophy. we are like plato and aristotle but talking about a fictional guys trauma

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His lips quivered slightly, minutely, only just enough for it to be noticeable. The heat that spread out beneath his skin was molten and it bubbled like magma as she dared to try and turn back on him, using a moment where they had both been very close to death. It was maddening. She was maddening and Coriolanus was far from being able to handle it.

"Like I did?" spoken as if he was facing down the most serious of affronts towards him. It disrupted the air between them, making ripples that kept expanding. "No, no, Lucy Gray. There was not a thought in your mind about leaving me behind back then. And if you did where would you be right now?" His eyes were wide and shining as he glared at her, flexing his hands before taking her balled-up ones and squeezing hard. "Tell me where would you be now, Lucy Gray! Likely dead or worse, confined somewhere in Doctor Gaul's lab. You should be thanking me!"

Instead she was cowering, crying, suddenly unsure of her place with him. Testing his patience. "You need to make up your mind, Lucy Gray, and soon."

are you begging? is that it? are you begging for mercy? (For Lucy Gray)

➶ ┇ from: meme sentence starters. ➶ ┇ status: accepting.

࿐ yes, she was begging for mercy. and she HATED it. to come off so weak once the pleading words did cry out of her... came to learn that's what happens to an animal once it's been trapped and it's last instinct is to squeal when it's life feels threatened. but she wouldn't admit that despite entirely resembling a trapped fawn or a bird, instead brain scrambled to come up with a new angle, "like you did coriolanus, when all that debris fell on top of you and you almost burned to death if i had just decided to leave you there. an' this is how you repay me?" angrily spitting back as heart pounded against ribcage, holding back tears in poor attempt to feel or look less weak. jaw clenching, feeling her fists BALL up in anger, "why?" @rimeoverreason

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“Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is evolving, everything is falling apart.”

— Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club (via bookmania)

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Found my FC for young Coryo:

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I feel like I'm starting to slip some of my old Seneca's mindset into Coryo's when it comes to his view of the people in the Capitol. He tolerates them at most and whenever he's interacting with them his usual mask turns into a full front. He thinks they're vapid and shallow, mentally unstimulating, and have nothing interesting to offer.

As time goes on those qualities make them easy to manipulate and control.

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THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR 1.03: 'The Two Faces, Part One'

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“why does this character who has done terrible things deserve a happy ending, how can you be okay with that, why do they deserve anything nice”

well see it’s because the entire concept of what people “deserve” is a messy ethical quagmire that has really troubling implications no matter how you use it

but also it’s because i like fictional miserable little assholes and i do what i want

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THE HUNGER GAMES: THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES (2023)dir. Francis Lawrence

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friendly reminder that i don't care what your muse does to mine!! kiss them, fight them, throw a drink in their face, hold a knife to their throat.. you don't have to dm me for permission beforehand but please remember that my muse will react accordingly ♡♡ i think pushing limits and pushing buttons is a lot of fun but always keep in mind that they won't just sit there and take it, yanno?

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There was not much to be said for most of the people who had been invited and who were now drifting about the penthouse like they were on tracks, only following the person in front of them and nothing more. As each one came up to him to give their congratulations Coriolanus saw the same shallow look in their eyes. He knew they didn't actually care all that much about him acquiring the now-esteemed position of Head Gamemaker; he knew all they cared about was what they could potentially get from him in this new position. That if they just took the right steps they'd be settled right by his side.

But they would never get that far. He would acknowledge and thank them for their support, but he would never let them get close. He was untouchable to them, to everyone. . .everyone except the person whom his gaze fell upon during the toast and who soon disappeared like some sort of mirage. But Coriolanus knew where he was headed to and he wasn't going to let him get away like that without a word, without really seeing each other face to face. Without—without what?

He moved through the small sea of people to get to the roof access, ducking his shoulders from the mob of hands wanting to pat him on the back in congratulations. He could deal with such a barrage of touch up to a point but Coriolanus was quickly reaching his limit and that perfectly practiced smile would start to strain. But after a quick word to the party he managed to free himself and as the door to the rooftop closed behind him he breathed in deep the fresh air.

Sejanus had a knack for wrenching his heart in ways he didn't know it could be and upon finding him in the greenhouse sitting on the bench alone Coriolanus was certain he could feel his blood starting to leak from it. All of the intensity of the party below them seemed to have been transferred up through the walls and into the body whose arms now enfolded about his waist. The difference here was that he welcomed it. How could one singular person pull so much weight? Pull himself in so close? It was a question that turned in his mind, sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly but always perpetually.

When those brown eyes met his and Sejanus' question was asked Coriolanus exhaled softly, settling one hand upon Sejanus' shoulder while the other reached for the nearest rose and plucked it. "What happens now is that I will make the most of this opportunity and this position, take all I can learn from it, and continue to move upward. Show them, show everyone in the Capitol and Panem what I can do." He removed enough of the rose stem for him to place it gently inside the breast pocket of Sejanus' jacket.

"I'm finally going to have them take me seriously, Sejanus. Something that you have always done." Both hands then squeezed his shoulders and Coriolanus gave him the most unwavering of looks. He was steady, truly certain of himself for what felt like the first time. And he hoped Sejanus wouldn't try to get away again, that he wouldn't want to. "What about you, my friend?"

What about you?

@rimeoverreason sent ❛ i know you. how else do you think i found you so easily? ❜

Coriolanus was Head Gamemaker. There was a celebration, extravagant and excessive, so opulent that it made Sejanus’ skin crawl, so much money spent on such fickle things. He’d been mostly ignoring Coriolanus for the past few days, as soon as he was made aware of the upcoming change in Coriolanus’ title. Volunteering at the hospital, visiting his parents, meeting up with some friends he’d made at university, trying to block out what was happening, trying desperately to ignore it. Full control over the Games. The last voice to decide. The power to kill, and maim, and torture, without repercussions. A power so vast it was dizzying to think about. And yet, Coriolanus was only getting started. 

The party was held at the Snow penthouse, nicely redecorated, having been brought to its full former glory for a while now. Sejanus felt so out of place suddenly, among effusive, loud guests, still avoiding Coriolanus; he could have made an excuse to decline the invitation, he could have rejected it, but he couldn’t stay away. Even as he loathed this with every ounce of his being, he missed Coriolanus something awful, and he wanted to see.. what? If he was reveling in this new development? He most certainly was. He wanted to see him, his feet dragged here by his treasonous heart. Coriolanus’ gaze fell on him instantly as he held the first toast, as he spoke exuberantly about this new opportunity. His smile was blinding. Sejanus’ gaze was hard, and he felt on the verge of a panic attack.

As soon as Coriolanus was mingling within the crowd, he bolted out of there. He didn’t go home, no, instead, he found his way up to the roof, to the rose garden. After his grandmother died, Coriolanus had it tended to by talented gardeners. He snuck into the solar greenhouse, row after row of sumptuous white blooms in there, and the fragrance, oh, so staggeringly intense. It reminded him of Coriolanus. Stumbling, he immediately sat on the stone bench there, as he was starting to hyperventilate. He clenched hard over the edges of the stone he sat on, struggling to take in deep breaths, feeling lightheaded. His chest hurt dreadfully, and he attempted to squeeze down on it, a mantra in his head, that he was okay, it was just a panic attack, he was not going to die. It wasn’t his first rodeo, after all.

He summoned his most cherished memory here, a few years ago, Coriolanus sitting beside him on this very bench, pressing a rose into his hand so he could bring it back to his mother. A sneaky thorn had grazed his palm, and he remembered Coriolanus fussing a bit over it. He remembered that he was smiling so widely his face couldn’t contain it. He remembered Coriolanus looking at him, with a strange look on his face, and then leaning in. The smell of roses so strong around him, around them, and Coriolanus’ lips on his, somewhat needy, and cold from the time they spent on the roof outdoors, into the chilly early March. It was nothing short of perfection. He was perfect. 

His breathing slowed. When he looked up, he was looking into Coriolanus’ eyes, and he was sitting right in front of him. It must have been only minutes that he was gone from the party. “Go back to the party, Coryo,” he exhaled, his heart resuming its faster pace, “Why did you come up here?” Despite himself, Coriolanus was so close that he couldn’t help but lean into him, his head falling softly to his tummy, with a sigh, he’d missed being close to him so much that tears pricked at his eyes. 

I know you. How else do you think I found you so easily? He really must have been gone only a few minutes, and the idea of Coriolanus noticing that quickly made his stomach twist. He pulled back, but his arms curled around Coriolanus’ waist, almost against his own will. He looked up at him, a question in his eyes, ready to fly from his lips, “What happens now?” Not with this moment, not with them. What happens now, that you have this power? “What are you going to do?” 

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[Since the fandom has kind of slowed I thought I would open my blog up to asks and such from anyone. It has always been like that, but I'm just now really putting it out there!]