#alettesletters

[alettesletters]

feel so sick rn and i just want to take a bath with billy

:(

[alettesletters]

one day i will slow dance with billy to this song

[alettesletters]

will anyone call me strange if i said tom OC……. trapeze artist in a circus…..

[alettesletters]

confession: this was my nerdy ahh on @milliesfishes blog

i just finished the best book about Billy and Pat Garrett oh my word it’s called ‘to hell on a fast horse’ by Mark L. Gardner if anyone is interested 🤍🤍

[alettesletters]

thinking about rodeo!billy who has loads of fans but isn’t big on social media but his sister is an influencer or something who lives on her phone and, whenever she posts a picture of you, he screenshots it <33

[alettesletters]

YEAR BY YEAR - C. SNOW/L.G BAIRD

doc!reader

From the very first moment, Coriolanus had taken a liking to you. Watching you get off that train, at the zoo, in the arena…

When he was banished to the Districts, he bribed his way into District 12 to find you. And when he did find you, he was filled with a feeling he wasn’t very familiar with but he immediately knew what it meant. It meant that something was wrong, something wasn’t right, something wasn’t as he wanted it.

You were dancing at the Hob — though not by choice. She was grasping onto you, spinning you with her while she jumped with more glee than anyone living in 12 should ever feel.

Lucy Gray Baird.

He hated her. She had you. It was clear that she had you and she didn’t have to fight for you. She didn’t have to strategise her way into your good graces. Lucy Gray entered the room and you were drawn to her like a magnet.

When she finally fucked off and got on stage to perform, she blew you a kiss and that was it.

Coriolanus would have to fabricate some grand love story and bring you back to the Capitol with him. The public would probably find a way to adore that.

At first, you were allowed to visit 12, visit your Lucy Gray, once a week. Over time, the visits got cut down.

“When am I going home next?” You’d mumble against his shoulder in bed.

“Next weekend — but they’ve got an illness going around. You can still go but are you sure you want to catch that?”

“I guess not.”

Turned out that Lucky Flickerman was easy to bribe. Paid to mention ‘deaths due to disease in District 12’ a few times on TV and you were believing it.

When your husband knelt before you after one of his business trips and told you so remorsefully that Lucy Gray had succumbed to said disease, you had no cause to doubt his word.

And that was that.

But the bastard didn’t know — didn’t even think — about the fact that you stayed in communication with the Covey. Probably his most idiotic failure to date.

Something so obvious and so important — staying in contact with your lover’s family. And Coriolanus missed it.

You were middle aged when he found out, due to a newly hired Avox cleaning a room (because you hadn’t had the chance to inform her of where she couldn’t go yet).

Your husband requested your presence in the library and you went calmly until—

A few inches rainbow ruffles hanging out of the fireplace.

You inhaled sharply, eyes widening.

“Where did you get it?” Coriolanus snapped.

“How did you find it?” You hissed right back at him.

He knew that you knew Lucy Gray didn’t die of illness, however you never mentioned it and he took that as submission. Clearly, he’d been wrong.

“It? There’s more than just the clown dress in there, darling.”

The way Coriolanus said ‘darling’ was pure mockery but you didn’t clock it. You couldn’t have possibly thought about it while your mind realised that everything of Lucy Gray’s that you’d had hidden away was transforming into ashes before your eyes.

Her dresses, her guitar, her hairpieces, her—

“You evil fucking—!”

You didn’t finish your sentence. Pouncing on your husband and clawing at him was much more important.

Irritatingly, you didn’t succeed in killing the President. You were still attached to the chain ball of being his wife, his loving First Lady.

In public, at least. At home you didn’t even share a bedroom — his choice. You liked to believe he was afraid you would stab him while he slept.

When the video of one of the Districts (you drank too much to even know them apart now) singing the song of your lost lover came about, your husband and you were sat in the dining room.

Your lips tilted up for the first time in a long time.

“You’re not funny. You’re really not. How the hell do they know that song?”

“How should I know? You haven’t let me go to the Districts in over sixty years and you burned everything I had from 12.”

Even at 83 years old, his eyes were so full of hatred over events that happened when he was 18. They were still so calculating and bitter. “Katniss Everdeen is probably a descendant of your little lover.” Coriolanus sneered.

“I don’t think you understand how children are conceived if you think that she could have made a baby with me.”

“She still could have been with a man. She probably cheated on you.”

“Oh, like you used to do to me?”

“Keep on like this and I’ll send for a man with orders to execute you—“

“No, you won’t.” You muttered tiredly. You were so, so tired. So drunk and so numb. The only reason you allowed yourself to speak out was Lucy Gray’s song being sung ever so quietly on the screen across the room — you let it channel through you.

“You can’t kill me. I keep a journal of instances where I’ve pissed you off enough that, if I were someone else, you would have my head. But you don’t. I think you love having me as your whipping post too much to actually let me die. You love having me in an eternal state of suffering, of mourning. You make me watch the Games every year, reminding me of my own trauma. You killed the love of my life and pissed all over her memory. You banned her memory. You didn’t have to kill her and you know it — you killed her because you’re a malicious, selfish man who needed to ensure I was chained to you.”

You nodded to the TV as you stood shakily with your wine glass. “I hope they sing Lucy Gray’s song while Katniss Everdeen kills you slowly.”

[alettesletters]

Lowk alette im thinking abt miss lucy gray teaching u how to bird call bc how the fuck do they do that and she would be so good at it

oh my god yes franci

now i need to formulate a capitol!reader to date lucy gray

[alettesletters]

type of house marley would make billy build her but like two story🤍🙏