#thetypewritingkate

[thetypewritingkate]

"the day after so after." by thesmileykate

Summary: "To be honest, she woke up almost an hour ago. She probably should have started getting ready for the day. She even wasted her precious hunting time. As the days grow longer, she has to wake up earlier and earlier, trying to beat the sweltering summer heat. By now, the sun was well in the sky and the couple thousand residents of District Twelve were cocooned in their homes, eagerly awaiting the cool breeze of the evening.

Oh well. Another hunt wasted. It didn't really matter. Not anymore. Not when it just felt so good. Lying there. Enveloped in his warmth. The feel of his arms around her. Protecting her."

OR

Katniss and Peeta spend an entire morning post-war giggling. Snuggling. And yes, kissing.

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[thetypewritingkate]

"little by little." by thesmileykate

"She hears what they say. Their whispers as they walk by, hand in hand. She sees it in the tight smiles they offer as payment when he hands them bread every week. The types of smiles that wobble on a fence between terrified and uncomfortable.

He never seems to notice. Continues to distribute bread with a smile. Continues to hum as he walks down the street. Continues to greet people who walk by, even if they scurry like mice when they pass.

Well, if he doesn't notice, what good would it be to bring it up? It would only make their day worse. And that would be a shame. Because things have been so good lately."

OR

Postwar Twelve struggles to become comfortable with post-hijacked Peeta living across the street.

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[thetypewritingkate]

"at five years." by thesmileykate

"The bread stares back at her. Each roll perfectly rounded, the butter that glistened on their tops long dried out. They practically look the same as when he dropped them off for her. Still, would chip a tooth if she bit into it? Had crust turned cold and hard after a day of neglect or would still carry the warmth of its gifter? The curiosity almost propels her arm forward, reaching toward the bowl. Almost. Instead, she lay there, a statue of her own demise. Ready to rest her exhausted eyes. Ready to face the dead once more."

OR

Katniss is stuck in a deep depression and Peeta's efforts to bring her back to life fail. Of course, he is the reason why she is in it in the first place, so he shouldn't be so surprised.

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[thetypewritingkate]

"a time with snow." by thesmileykate

(the completed work)

Set during the beginning of Mockingjay and alternating flashbacks to his past, Coriolanus Snow struggles to quell the rebellion as the districts start to fall to District 13. Haunted by the past and desperate to maintain his power, Snow orchestrates a series of manipulative tactics to break Katniss. As Snow's plans unfold, he grapples with the consequences of his actions and the realization that he may not be able to extinguish the flames of rebellion he helped ignite. When these tactics ultimately fail to slow the Mockingjay's flames, he desperately turns to the last weapon in his emotional arsenal: an abandoned boy who has a hold on the Mockingjay's heart.

OR

What did the day that Snow decided to hijack Peeta look like?

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[thetypewritingkate]

"a time with snow." by thesmileykate

Chapter Five: "the boy."

"If the Mockingjay didn't kill President Snow, the silence would. Perhaps the silence was even worse. An acknowledgment of failure. His failure. Or at least the failure of the twenty-one advisors he appointed to deal with the Mockingjay situation. Twenty-one pairs of lips that refused to offer up even the faintest idea of a suggestion. Twenty-one pairs of eyes just stared back at him. Yet, no matter how much he searched every pair, the eyes only reflected emptiness. It wasn't until his eyes found a mirror, caught a splash of blue.

'What about the boy?'"

OR

Snow meets with advisors to discuss what to do to deter the Mockingjay.

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[thetypewritingkate]

sneak peek of my fanfic, title to be determined:

"Maybe it was time to admit that the Mockingjay had finally gotten the best of Snow.

The smell of his failure taunts him. Looms around the room, coiling itself around his throat until he can't take it anymore. Snow can't hide the shake in his hands as he practically rips the rose from his pocket and drops it on his desk.

Snow refuses to allow the sigh lodged in his throat to escape into the room of lingering eyes. Instead, he just looks into the nothingness in front of him.

"Like it or not, the boy is the only thing we have left. We can't kill him. We can only think of another way to use him against her." 

And so they went back to the drawing board, suggesting every way that this boy could be used to break the Mockingjay. And when each suggestion was inevitably dismissed, they would think of another. And another. And another. 

Because Snow refused to forfeit his pieces this late in the game. He refused to melt, despite the ever-approaching heat.

[thetypewritingkate]

"a time with snow." by thesmileykate

Chapter Four: "returning in a coffin"

"The echos of steps on wobbly cobblestone almost had a melodic ring to them. Or at least they did for Coriolanus Snow. The satisfaction is simply delicious. And it becomes even sweeter as he watches the three figures walk towards the Justice Building, a smirk adorning his lips."

OR

What was Snow thinking during the quell reaping?

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[thetypewritingkate]

"a time with snow." by thesmileykate

Chapter Three: "to speak of perfection"

"After the makeup is applied, Snow looks into the mirror. Now, he is finally ready to start his day. But as he turns to leave, he can't help but notice the threatening bowl in the corner. A bowl that murmurs a mockingjay's call to her people."

OR

Snow continues to derail as threats of the rebellion and his past come to haunt him.

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