thinking of the scene with will inside henry's mind. will, the embodiment of kindness that he is, reaching out to henry to try and save him despite the horrors he faced because of him and the mindflayer. except that henry doesn't want to be saved.
but what if he did? my mind is buzzing on the possibility of henry being so moved by will's words and sincerity that he actually gives it a shot. i like to imagine that the tether between them went both ways. if will could feel henry's pain and sadness, so could henry with will's empathy.
it's not a clean cut thing. maybe as they escape the abyss, henry privately thinks that any moment now he's going to turn on them. he's free of the mindflayer but that thing isn't the root of his evilness. it's the anger at the world that didn't treat him right. but will? will is a bright spot among everything.
will is obviously put in a very tight spot. everyone hates henry. the entire party wants to kill him. hopper, kali and el have tried and were met with:
"I wouldn't do that. Not if you want William to die as well. We're still connected after all."
the party calls bullshit because it surely couldn't be true? after all, the mindflayer wasn't with henry anymore. except, except their powers are innate. henry uses that word exactly.
so they're at a very tense standstill. everyone agrees that there's no killing henry but maybe he could be imprisoned? or punished in some way. will is forced to be put at the unenviable position of advocating for henry's redemption. after all, "saving" henry was the premise of what he said when they were at the abyss. will doesn't enjoy it but at the same time he doesn't want to go back on his word. everytime his resolve weakens, he just goes back to the memory of the child that henry was, scared and hurt in that cave.
henry gets better. eventually. he helps them understand the abyss and the upside down. he terrorizes the military. weirdest of all, he sticks to will all the time. will knows this is out of self-preservation; robin says that henry's like a feral cat and he's his favorite person. what a terrifying thought.
they still share a mind, but henry learns not to pry at will's request. who knew that vecna had a concept of privacy?
henry's relationship with everybody is quite antagonistic, maybe civil at best with some people. everyone is still on edge, expecting him to go back to the mindflayer again and start the nightmare. except he never does.
princess jesus christ will byers saves the day! (and season 5)
The Thunderbolts (New Avengers? Avengerz?) had been taking a break after their most recent mission in Venice nearly resulted in catastrophe. They were getting better at teamwork—or whatever you called not letting each other die—, but they were solo agents first, and that kind of thing was hard to shake.
They were in the common room. A movie was playing on the screen but nobody was really watching it. Alexei was conked out, taking a whole couch to himself while Bucky was slumped on the floor, furiously texting on his phone. Ava was mindlessly phasing her hand in and out of the cushion, watching as Yelena put in little braids in Bob's hair with colorful elastics.
A clatter from the adjacent kitchen, where John had been fixing himself a sandwich, was heard. "What the fuck?"
All of them looked up as John popped his head out of the doorframe. His eyes darted back and forth.
"What?" Ava asked.
"There's a portal where our fridge used to be."
---
Bucky went in first. Always the one to scope out things, to determine if there was any danger. When he saw that the portal didn't close up on him, he stuck his vibranium arm out of it in a thumbs-up, hoping that the others saw it. They trickled in one by one, with a sleep-addled Alexei bringing up the rear, picking out the crust in his eyes.
"You wake me up for this?" he asked. "A storage room?"
"I admit, I expected more." Ava wrinkled her nose at the dusty rows of files.
"Like what?" John replied. His bent shield was strapped to his arm. It looked silly on its own, and even sillier at the moment as he was wearing civilian clothing: sweatpants and a gag shirt Yelena bought for him.
"Like the Upside Down from that one kid's show."
"Stranger Things," Alexei butted in. "It's a good show. I like the part when the prisoners fight the monsters in Russia! Reminds me of the good old days."
"Where are we? And where is our refrigerator?" Yelena kicked an overturned bin, shredded paper spilling from it.
Suddenly, the dim room was illuminated as the door swung open. A red and gold armor stood there, arm held straight out with its palm aimed at them a pulsing beam of light.
"Not to interrupt this party, orgy whatever, but you guys are trespassing."
"Actually, this is our tower– Wait, is that Iron Man?" Alexei gasped. In front, Bucky tensed.
The faceplate opened. "In the flesh. And I don't know who you guys are, but unless you're all named Tony Stark, this is not your tower." His palm cannon charged up. "Now I think it's best you come with me. Now."
i host the illustrations for TTWLB here on tumblr (not sure how smart that is, but eh) and i've been thinking that i could start posting the pictures as i announce new chapters but i fear that the illustrations might be a little bit too spoilery
the writer experience
me, after reaching my desired wordcount and covering relevant plot points: okay, this is good to publish!
me, 5 mins later: i want to delete this entire thing i want to launch it into the sun this is garbage what the fuck was i thinking when i wrote than it sounds so stupid--
THIS face card and so few of y'all ever write Jace with your OCs, like what the fuck? LOOK! Look at this pretty boy with his pretty, sad eyes! Once I end my college sem, I am going to write you into something baby boy
me trying to write a sweet father-daughter moment except i’ve never experienced any sort of relationship like that so i have to look it up online and try to feel it through other people’s experience so i can write it in character
i know ao3 doesn’t have an algorithm (and i don’t think it should) but every time i read a fic that speaks to my trauma, i feel like i’ve just been ad-targeted
comments on my fics give me a high only comparable to when i was still a gifted child (and not a depressed adult) and teachers and my peers would praise me for something i found easy to do at the time
Summary: 2.2k words - Twenty-four District children come to the Capitol, and not for the Hunger Games.
tags-list: @cdragons
Ravinstill has lost his mind.
Coriolanus slammed open the door to his room, roughly unbuttoning his coat and throwing it to the side. A scholarship program for District children? They already had the Hunger Games to quell rebellion, Coriolanus had argued. What purpose is a scholarship program but be the antithesis of their perfectly functioning system?
Coriolanus kicked his dresser, remembering the way Ravinstill had looked down on him despite his short stature. It uncomfortably reminded him of Highbottom, the drunk, dead bastard.
“You’re a bright young man, Coriolanus Snow. One day, you will do great things.” The President of Panem had said. “But now, you need to understand that making them live in perpetual fear of losing their children is not enough to quell rebellion. Those wretched ideals live on no matter how many are reaped, and the best way to change it is to indoctrinate their youth from the beginning. Don’t you see how brilliant it would be, Coriolanus? How devastating it would be to see their own children become a part of what they are fighting against?”
By the end of the meeting, Ravinstill had a manic edge to his tone, something broken in his psyche that had begun since the day he lost his son and heir. Coriolanus thought that Ravinstill’s idea held some merit— some, not a lot. He too was curious how studying in the Capitol would affect the outlook of the children, and how it would affect the Districts in consequence. But Coriolanus also knew that by executing this new program, the Capitol would be opening themselves up for vulnerability as well.
In every way, shape, and form, the Districts were inferior, unwashed and uncouth, but they were also starving. They developed a cunning borne from sheer hunger and survival instinct. Giving them opportunity to be in the Capitol is like unleashing vermin and expecting them not to infest the city and its people.
Coriolanus was the only sane person in that council. Strabo had been in the doghouse for coming home drunk on his late son's birthday. Though why Mrs. Plinth insisted on celebrating it, he didn’t know. All Coriolanus cared was that she was upset enough that Strabo thought that getting back into her good graces was to support this endeavor. Did he mean to sponsor some poor kid from District 2 to give to his wife as an apology for not being able to protect his son?
You killed him.
Even Dr. Gaul had agreed to make room for the scholars in the Academy. Coriolanus had been counting on her to disagree. Her decision against the proposal would have stopped the entire program entirely since her position as Dean gave her considerable influence on all matters of education. Her gleeful positive vote told him that he overestimated her head for logic and thoroughly underestimated her penchant for cruelty. He could practically already hear the convoluted experiments developing in her brain.
In the end, the program was unanimously approved, with Coriolanus having been forced to vote yes lest the favor of President Ravinstill that he worked hard for vanish in an instant.
The Capitol would finalize the specifics of the scholarship program in a month, and then put out the announcement a week after. Ravinstill had tasked him with the “very important” task of overseeing the mechanics of the scholarship and vetting the sponsorship applications.
Oh joy, Coriolanus thought. At least he had the authority to put in some safeguards in place. Time would only tell if the District scholars would truly benefit the Capitol, but experience had taught him that the gap between both worlds were too distinct. Never again would Coriolanus be blindsided.
Twenty-four District children were coming to the Capitol. Twenty-four children of all ages, two from each District, each one sponsored by a Capitol citizen.
Coriolanus had not been surprised to see Tigris’ name on the list. For a moment he’d thought of denying her application, but his cousin would likely take it as some sort of indication that he was still affected by the memory of her. Ever since that day years ago when they fought outside of Tigris’ shop, she had taken it upon herself to make clever quips alluding to the past Coriolanus had already shed off himself.
Coriolanus did not care for her insipid actions. He didn't care so much that he passed off the responsibility of checking who she had chosen to sponsor to some overeager lackey. Whoever it was, they would inevitably fail. And so would his cousin.
As he walked through the familiar halls of the Academy, Coriolanus strove to clear his mind of Tigris and focus on the matter at hand. He eyed the decorations critically and politely greeted the guests making their way to the auditorium, occasionally checking the rooms to ensure that there were no stragglers.
While he deeply disapproved of the program, his perfectionism demanded that the event today must be no less than perfect.
They’d chosen the commencement ceremony to take place in the Academy instead of the Presidential Palace. It was supposed to mean something significant about education, but Coriolanus knew that Ravinstill meant it as an intentional slight. Just as the scholars’ uniform were blue in contrast to the usual red was purposefully chosen for their meaning during the Ancient Roman times. Just as the motto of the scholarship was "semper ad meliora", alluding to the children's origin.
It was rather petty and over the top, Coriolanus thought absentmindedly. Any indication of the District children’s otherness would already be present in their behavior.
Coriolanus stopped in his tracks as he heard sounds coming from the Music Room. He sighed. He had no patience for disobedient students. There was a reason why he remained a Gamemaker instead of taking the offered professorship from Dr. Gaul.
He strode into the room none too quietly, the offending student making a discordant note on the piano in shock, halting their slow play of the beginning of the “Horn of Panem.”
They were wearing blue uniform, Coriolanus observed. Already making trouble on the first day, I see.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” He said.
The girl turned to him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. She barely looked District, cheeks full and with a healthy glow about her. Her hair was bright blonde and healthy, a color and state rarely seen outside of the Capitol. Coriolanus guessed that she might have been from one of the more wealthy Districts, perhaps 1 or 2.
“I’m sorry, sir.” He stiffened at her accent. “I got lost and found this thing. It looked too pretty to just be on display.” Her voice was soft and timid, but her excitement was not lost to him.
She began fidgeting when he failed to reply immediately. Coriolanus cleared his throat and stepped closer, looking over the shiny grand piano. It had been delivered just recently, commissioned and donated by a wealthy patron of the school. It was fully transparent and made of crystal, sectioned off in the center of the room by velvet rope barriers.
It was not meant to be played, merely to be looked at, but of course this girl would violate that. Coriolanus tried to quell the amusement he felt at her little act of rebellion, reminding himself he wanted nothing to do with that word.
The amusement came nonetheless. Just this once, he let it go. She was just a little District girl.
Coriolanus looked at her again. She was too small for the piano, feet dangling and unable to reach the pedals, but she was playing rather well for someone who most likely never had access to such an instrument before.
“You sound better than most students I’ve heard play it.” She smiled, pleased but trying to hide it, unsure about the praise coming from a stranger. Coriolanus himself was unsure why he wasn’t berating her.
He was simply saying the truth, though. Coriolanus had been required multiple times to suffer the performances of the children of his influential peers during dinners and they had not sounded half as good as this District child in front of him. The Capitol had better breeding, for certain, but it sadly did not ensure brilliance. “What’s your name?”
“A–Annabel Rose from District 12, sir.” Coriolanus had figured her origin, but hearing the confirmation still felt so damning. “And thank you. I’ve only even played guitar but the keys ain’t too hard to figure out."
"What about the song?" he asked. "I can't imagine you ever learned Horn of Panem back home."
She blinked, as if confused by his question. "They asked us to memorize it on the train, sir." Ah. Coriolanus had forgotten about that. Another of Ravinstill's requests. "I figured I could memorize it better like this."
"You can play just from hearing?"
"Yes, sir. A bit."
Since she was from District 12, there was a chance that she was Covey, just going from her musical aptitude. Coriolanus could not match her appearance with anybody from the group, apart from Maude Ivory but the connection was flimsy at best and Maude Ivory was too young.
Strangely, the thought of Annabel Rose being Covey did not bother him as he expected it would. He’d been vindictive when he heard that the Mayor banned their main livelihood, feeling satisfied that there would be no songs anymore. But, he supposed, genius will still thrive no matter the circumstances that tried to suffocate it.
(He thought of Highbottom, of his high and mighty peers, of sleeping hungry and waking with the feeling twice as worse.)
“Well, Annabel Rose from District 12, that’s a remarkable talent for someone so young. My name is Coriolanus Snow from the Capitol.” he replied, offering his hand to shake. Annabel reached over to reciprocate it, her small hands dwarfed by his. “May I sit?”
The girl nodded and scooted over, making space for him. She needn’t have done so. She barely took up space as it is. “’M not that young. I’m seven.” She replied with indignance.
Coriolanus held back an outward expression of his shock. He’d expected her to be younger, just based on her stature. But he supposed the poor state of being in District 12 must have manifested somewhere, if not in her outward appearance then her stunted growth.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her response. “Your skill speaks for itself, anyway. Genius does not follow any schedule, it manifests whenever.” Or wherever, he supposed. Even in a land as barren as District 12, one can find hidden gems.
“Genius? That's too— too—“ she cut herself off, fingers twisting at the hem of her blue jacket.
“Too much? Well, I call it as I see it, Ms. Annabel Rose.” He ran his fingers over the ivory keys. Coriolanus Snow never learned how to play any instrument. At first, it was because they couldn’t afford the lessons. And then after, it was because he couldn’t stand the sound. “And I never lie.”
Small fingers played a few lonely notes. Coriolanus couldn’t tell if it was still from Horn of Panem or if it was from another song. “Really?” she looked up at him, brown eyes seeking his own.
“What did I just say?” he raised a brow, getting a giggle in reply. He watched as Annabel Rose’s shoulders lost their tension, an indication that her wariness towards him was abating. “Now, do you think you can teach me how to play?”
Annabel Rose gave him a puzzled look. “But Mr. Snow, I don’t really know how to play.”
“Then you better learn. In the meantime, would you like me to escort you to the auditorium? The ceremony is about to start and we don’t want you to be late on your first day.”
Annabel Rose hesitated, head bowed down at the keys. "I don't wanna. I'm scared."
Coriolanus was about to ask why, but he thought better of it. It was Tigris' voice that echoed at the back of his head, from a far off time, about a different girl.
"It's going to be fine, Annabel."
"They're going to be mean." He didn't even attempt to refute that. Everyone in the Capitol were certain to look down on the new scholars, perhaps treat them as exotic pets at best. In any other circumstance, Coriolanus would be there along with them but to mistreat talent like hers was simply wasteful.
"They are mean. But you're going to prove them that you're better and that you deserve to be here. I believe that and you should too. You know why?" If she does crash and burn, there's no other witness to his promises other than him and this girl. But at the moment, he felt it safe to invest in her.
She looked up at him. "Because you never lie?"
"Because I never lie." Coriolanus stood up and offered her his arm. After a second of reluctance, she held onto him as he led them out of the music room.
(Coriolanus would regret his promises later. And not after his and Tigris' eyes met across the room, with his recent acquaintance returning his cousin's relieved embrace. The regret came moments before, when the girl let go of his arm to run to her, only for Coriolanus to immediately miss her presence by his side.
Coriolanus would call it anger about his conniving cousin. But why did anger feel like an aching absence?)
ok, au where casca highbottom, as a massive fuck you to crassus snow, does his damn hardest to father mentor and support coriolanus so that he doesn't grow up starving for necessities, or for absolute power. coryo, influenced by both casca and tigris, is more sympathetic to the districts and also sought for the games' end. he doesn't make any big moves until his last year at the academy, when he's assigned lucy gray.
(casca doesn't comment on why coryo suddenly had a fire lit under his ass, though he does give them more time during the mentor meetings and exaggeratedly wiggles his brows everytime coryo looks over to him.
lucy gray catches him doing it one time and just smirks. casca thinks that coriolanus has met his match.)
