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I love you like a rotten dog, I love you like my canines are falling out of my gums. Like a monster, like a beast. Like something not worth loving back.
BORN TO DIE [2023]
It's bleak and blank. Wall seperating two sides. And trust, you don't want to be on the other side.
In the heart of excess, where opulence intertwines with gilded decadence, lies the Capitol—a kaleidoscope of extravagance painted on the canvas of Panem's despair.
Adorned in hues that defy nature's palette, the Capitol's citizens parade through streets paved with the echoes of opulent laughter, masked by a veneer of artificial glee. Their flamboyant attire, a tapestry of capricious whims, weaves a tale of ostentation against the backdrop of the districts' muted struggle.
Within the Capitol's grandeur, the scent of excess wafts through the air, an intoxicating perfume of indulgence that mingles with the hungered desperation of the districts. The Capitol's power, entwines itself around the tributes, each step leading them closer to the precipice of both glory and demise.
In the Capitol's grand arenas, where the Games are both spectacle and sport, the thirst for entertainment becomes a feast upon the tributes' anguish. It's greedy. It is a darkness born of control, a puppet master's strings pulling at the fate of Panem's desperate souls.
Thus, the Capitol stands as a testament to the stark dichotomy of Panem—a city draped in opulence, yet rooted in the oppression of its districts. Where the mask conceals the cruel reality, and the Capitol's allure is but a mirage that shimmers in the harsh light of rebellion. President Snow doesn't know what's fucking coming after him. She is angry. And too bad for him, she's not the only one.
On the other side people reek of death and misery. Some more than the others. The closer you are to the Capitol's greedy hands, the bigger your feast is. But no matter how close you are, you'll still eat stale bread. You'll get the crumbs underneath the table. No matter if you are District 1 or District 12, you will still be picked to die from a bowl. And the elitist will act as if your name being read out was an honor. Like your death was a good thing.
Raven Vandenberg wishes nothing more than to tell the tell them to fuck their honor. Her deepest desire lingered in the unsaid words — she wanted Snow dead more than anything. The haunting memories of The Reaping, where fate cruelly selected her from the masses of District 6, remain etched in her mind. The triumph of winning the 72nd Hunger Games was not a tapestry of beauty for Raven; it was an unsettling canvas painted in shades of crimson. Her hands, stained with the blood of competitors, held no romanticized glory. It was brutal — where survival took precedence over honor, and the Capitol's perception starkly contrasted with Raven's reality.
To the Capitol, Raven's victory was a spectacle deserving of gratitude. Their perspective painted her as fortunate, granted the privilege of enjoying the spoils of a Victor's life, even as her own people languished in the grip of starvation. The so-called honor bestowed upon her felt more like a bitter irony, leaving Raven Vadenberg to grapple with the true cost of surviving the Games. It was a cost and reward system.
The cost: Third Quarter Quell. Maybe she should've listened to their advice — maybe if she did, she wouldn't have to go to that arena again. The inevitability of blood staining her hands, the irony behind her being the only remaining female victor from District 6 and the possibility of her dying before killing Snow, made her rage simmer even more. Luckily for her, rebellion is on the loose and fire is catching. Which means — Raven Vadenberg will be wild. She will be brutal. She will be more powerful than their games and their blood lust. Fuck the patriarchy. Eat or be eaten.
The reward: Finnick O'Dair.
Never thought I'd say this — but I prefer this arena more than my first one. Well, besides the fog, anyway. (...) I always dreamed of seeing the ocean. Most kids from my District did. You're so lucky you got to see this every day, O'Dair.
( Raven Vadenberg to Finnick O'Dair)
It's funny how we're finding anything beautiful about these Games. But, yeah, in some sense I guess I felt lucky. Well, as lucky you can get. Whenever I'd think about the Games or the Capitol.. or anything at all — I'd go to the ocean. Wish you could've seen it. Maybe when all of this is over, I could teach you how to swim, Crow. That is unless you're still... reluctant about being near the "Capitol's Darling."
( Finnick O'Dair to Raven Vadenberg )
Yeah, maybe. If we get out of this alive.
( Raven Vadenberg to Finnick O'Dair )
✶ Introducing...
Alicia Vikander. / RAVEN VADENBERG.
Sam Claflin. / FINNICK O'DAIR.
Freddy Carter. / ATLAS CROOKSDALE.
✶ Dedications...
paIedeath rottedsoul saviorsuns hcndcrsqn goldcardigan girlcanines qlorify gallaghereid
delicatesuns prongssluvr kissesontongue charliesluv siccarrria illegallyhot feralrot radiodolls minzynari hmulupin joaoslcver radiodolls
love you all. <33
&& everyone that has been encouraging me to write this fic.
✶ Author's Note...
omg hi hi !! finally decided to write a fic for my beloved finnick.
all i'm gonna say is expect pain. pain & pain.
&& i hope u guys will enjoy it.
angie, xoxo.