meropegaaunt

[meropegaaunt]

anybody 18+ and literate down to write obi-wan kenobi against my OC? we can double ofc

[meropegaaunt]

anybody 18+ and literate down for a house of the dragon roleplay? i’m looking for a daemon targaryen, aemond targaryen, jacaerys velaryon or book-based aegon targaryen! we can double ofc, and darker themes and NSFW are welcome. if interested, give this a like and i’ll reach out

[meropegaaunt]

anybody 18+ and literate down to write daryl dixon against my fem OC? we can double ofc and i can write whoever you’d like against your character. if interested, give this a like and i’ll reach out!

[meropegaaunt]

i’m fiending for a dune rp so if anyone 18+ and literate is down, give this a like and i’ll reach out!

[meropegaaunt]

THE STRINGS OF FATE

Teaser

Rating: Mature so minors DNI

© Meropegaaunt 2023

From the realm of darkness came a babe, a daughter named Helen. After Helen of Sparta, the mother had whispered, holding the new, precious life force as close as humanly possible. So close it was as though she feared that she would dissipate, would disappear into thin air. Because Helen, despite appearing to be a summer child, was nothing of the sort. No, quite the opposite, for like her father before her, she had a heart entwined in shadows. They were one and the same, their similarities being so profound that it was difficult to tell where they ended and she began.

For seven years, Helen was allowed to live, to flourish under the soft, guiding hands of her mother. She grew into a demure, lovely girl with doe eyes and dulcet tones, but said growth was halted, violently thrown off course when her life as she knew it came to an end. Her memories of that life were faint, fuzzy, but the aftermath was clear; she had awoken in a world that had wholly changed, transformed. There was no time to acclimate, to get used to said world before monsters were coming Helen's way, tracking her the way that hunters did an animal. They tried to kill her, to claim her life force time and time again before she found her way to Camp Half-Blood.

author’s note: my luke castellan fic, the strings of fate, has been posted on ao3!

[meropegaaunt]

HALLOWED GLORY

Chapter One: The Reaping

Rating: Mature so minors DNI

Word Count: 1,300

© Meropegaaunt 2023

The sun had long risen on the horizon of District Four, marking the beginning of its daily ascent of the sky. Selena, a daughter of the Cresta family, typically rose bright and early to watch that ascent, because the feeling of the sun’s rays was soft, gentle as a caress. The balmy warmth that came along with those rays was welcomed, sometimes even celebrated, but not on this day. Why? Because on this day, the Hunger Games had once more rolled around, meaning that the reaping ceremony was imminent. Four years had passed since she had become eligible for the games, meaning that now, at sixteen, her name was going to be entered into the reaping bowl five times. That was a small, seemingly insignificant number, especially since the children who were financially less fortunate had to apply for tesserae, a system that supplied them with a year’s worth of grain and oil in exchange for their name being put in the bowl once more. The prospect of being pulled into the games was scary, yes, but no more than dying a slow, ravenous death as one did when they starved.

Generally speaking, District Four was better off than most, because their main industry, fishing, was booming, bearing more and more fruit with each year that passed. Said industry saw them procuring their own food, which was why they had a stable, steady diet. The kind of diet that allowed them to grow just strong enough to work, to get involved in the industry. Selena had not yet been forced to delve into the fishing industry, because her time had been spent at the Academy, where she had been molded into a good and proper tribute. The Academy in District Four had brought forth many a Career Tribute, and the more victors they got under their belt, the more money allocated to them by the Capitol.

The instructors at the Academy had taken a special interest in the Crestas because of who their mother was: Mira Weatherly, the victor of the 40th Hunger Games. She had been given much attention by her instructors in her youth, so much attention that she had been made into a killer of the highest skill. Her fellow tributes had never stood a chance, which was why there had been little surprise when she had emerged victorious, being airlifted from the arena bathed in the blood of her adversaries. From then on, she had spent the better part of a decade being a spectacle, a showboat for the Capitolites . . . until a younger, more beautiful victor by the name of Librae Ogilvy was crowned, causing them to lose interest, to shift their attention to their newer, shinier toy. Recognizing this as the golden opportunity that it had been, Mira had retreated, slipping into the oh so caliginous shadows of the Victors Village. It was there that she lived with her husband, Caspian Cresta. They made their house there a home, a sanctuary where they could bring up the three daughters they produced: Selena, Marin, and Annie. Caspian had passed early on in their childhood, but Mira had continued pushing on, doing anything and everything in her power to protect her daughters, to ensure that all they knew was home and hearth. Thus far, she had been successful, but there was one thing she could not protect them from: the games.

This was partially why Selena had stayed home to help Annie get ready. Two years separated the pair, meaning that they were rather close in age. There was something delicate about Annie, though, something that compelled her to stick close and protect her with all of her might. If she could, she would remove Annie’s name from the reaping bowl, thus rendering the chances of her being reaped nonexistent. She would do the same for Marin, of course she would, but there lay a special place in her heart for Annie.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered, her tones soft, sweet as silk. The smallest hint of a tremble could be heard within them, but she could not break, could not shatter lest Annie do the same. So she stood taller, straightening her spine as much as possible. Her fingers remained in Annie’s hair, carefully braiding her fire-kissed locks. “Just . . . breathe, Annie. Try to calm down. All will be well.”

A shaky breath left Annie’s mouth, then, “How can you be sure? What if they call one of our names?”

Selena breathed out a deep, heavy sigh, the prospect of that occurring weighing almost impossibly heavy on her shoulders. The end of the braid was tied off, then she took Annie’s hands into her own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “We can’t control whose name is called, but no matter what, I promise I’ll be there with you. We’ll face this together.”

Annie nodded, saltwater burning her eyes. They threatened to escape, to paint her cheeks, but she held strong, trying to get her shaking under control as Selena reached across their nightstand, taking an emerald ribbon into her hands. That ribbon was carefully weaved into her hair, simultaneously bringing out the oh so beautiful color of her eyes and accentuating her features. “When you get scared, just think of the ocean,” she whispered, her eyebrows knitting in concentration as she worked the ribbon into her locks. “The waves are turbulent, yes, but they always find their way back to the shore. You and I are like that. No matter what happens, no matter what distance is put between us, we’ll always find our way back to each other.”

Annie’s trembling subsided somewhat, the words of comfort wrapping around her like the sea green blanket Mira had gifted her for her sixth birthday. “We’re strong,” she continued, brushing a strand of her hair to the side. “And we’ll face whatever is thrown our way. Remember, you’re not alone. I’m here, and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

With that, the two left hand in hand to face the horror that was the reaping ceremony. Mira and Marin met the two in the entryway, and together, the four Crestas made their way to the Justice Building. There, they were pried apart, forced to go their separate ways. The air within the square grew thicker, heavier as more people spilled in, finding themselves grouped together like the sardines the fishermen bought in from their expeditions. Selena’s emerald eyes traveled the length of the square, allowing her to lose herself, to get lost in her thoughts. The customs were repetitive, frankly, because each year, they told the same story, weaving a tale about the long, bloody rebellion that had occurred over a lifetime ago. That rebellion only came to an end when the Treaty of Treason was signed, thus ensuring that its sparks could never again be made into fires.

Eventually, Daphne Martis, the escort for District Four, sauntered onto the square’s stage, donning a smile so sunny that it could warm even the grim-faced children she was about to lead to their deaths. A beat passed in which she admired her surroundings, then she stood taller, straightening her spine to an almost unseemly degree. “Hello, there. I’m Daphne Martis, your escort, and I’m most pleased to be able to see the district’s chosen tributes to the Capitol this year. They’ll be in the best of hands, I assure you,” she breathed into the microphone, her voice honeyed, pleasant to the ear. “Now, as to who they will be, let’s find out.”

Daphne crossed to the reaping bowl then, reached in a perfectly manicured hand, and pulled out a slip. The crowd watched on with so much intensity that a pin could be heard dropping. Selena held her breath, unable to think anything other than, Please. Please, not Annie or Marin . . .

It was neither, though.

“Selena Cresta!”

[meropegaaunt]

HALLOWED GLORY

Finnick Odair x OC

Rating: Mature so minors DNI. Below the cuts will be canon-typical violence, death, murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, unhealthy coping mechanisms, trauma, implied sexual content, explicit sexual content, and other dark themes.

© Meropegaaunt 2023

Featuring: Florence Pugh as Selena Cresta

Sophie Cookson as Marin Cresta

Amanda Fix as Annie Cresta

Rachel Weisz as Mira Cresta

[meropegaaunt]

ok,, but what if i wrote a finnick odair fanfic?

[meropegaaunt]

would anyone be interested if i opened writing commissions? a writing sample can be found here.

[meropegaaunt]

anybody 18+ and literate down for a hunger games roleplay? i’m looking for someone willing to write coriolanus snow and/or finnick odair against my character(s). we can double ofc! if interested, give this a like and i’ll reach out.

[meropegaaunt]

That shiny plastic Barbie hair is so iconic. Everyone knows what it looks like. We went through different versions of weaving plastic hair into regular wig hair. They made a whole wig of it for Margot. 

It was very interesting trying to find the right shade of blonde. I started off with the color that the first 1950s Barbie is, which is quite a yellow blonde. We kept that one because we do see her as a 1950s Barbie in a stripy black and white swimsuit. We kept that color, but we didn’t want her to have that color all the way through. 

We basically allocated all of her 14 wigs and 14 different looks to different costumes. It all started from knowing how Greta wanted her to wake up in scene one on a good day and what we wanted from the bad day, and eventually joins the Real World and stoped being a doll. And I suddenly thought, « Well, then, she has to have normal-world hair. ».  so there was another wig to make and another look to make where she becomes just an ordinary girl. 

It’s incredible to see the progression of the whole looks, so when you look back and when you revisit all the different looks and when the film is put together, we will suddenly see huge differences between the looks, and that will be fun.

Barbie (2023) DVD extras

[meropegaaunt]

You rp

yes! you can find my rp info on @ragnaarson

[meropegaaunt]

DIVINE VIOLENCE

Cast

Coriolanus Snow x OC

Rating: mature so minors DNI. Below the cuts there will be canon-typical violence, death, murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, trauma, implied sexual content, explicit sexual content, and other dark themes.

© Meropegaaunt 2023

Featuring: Emily Carey as Valerie Plinth

credit: gif.

[meropegaaunt]

I’M IN LOVE WITH THE TRAILER FOR THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES OMFGGGGGG

I’LL NEVER SHUT UP AB THIS MOVIE

[meropegaaunt]

POISON

amber freeman x reader based on this request.

summary: the only one that can have you is amber.

rating: mature so minors DNI. beneath the cut there is unhealthy relationship dynamics, possessive behavior, and jealousy-fueled murder.

word count: 1,188 words

© caarpenters 2023

Wes Hicks vexed Amber Freeman more than she cared to admit. Not because of his borderline concerning level of paranoia. Not because of his deep-seated motherly issues. Not because of his horridly box-dyed blonde hair. Not even because of his deep attachment to her friend, Tara Carpenter. No, her vexation toward Wes could be traced back to one thing and one thing only: you, Y/N L/N. As of late, Wes had grown close to you, too close. He trailed after you like a dog with a bone, happily taking any scrap of attention you threw his way. For a time, his antics had been annoying, nothing more. Eventually, though, you began to inadvertently entertain those antics, to entertain him under the belief that he treated you the same way he did the rest of your friend group. You seemingly did not notice that the only friend he walked to and from class was you. You did not notice how whenever he stole a hug, he lingered just a moment too long, soaking in your warmth and taking in your all too sweet smell through his nostrils. Amber noticed, though. She noticed it all, and it sparked an anger within her that she had not known herself capable of. 

Because you were hers. You had always been hers. Her friend, her steadying force, her person. You were the first person she had met when her family moved to Woodsboro all those years ago. She had been out playing in her yard, messing around with her collection of Chucky dolls, when you had ridden up on your rickety old bike and offered her the brightest smile she had ever seen, a smile that had rivaled the sun in intensity. You had asked to play with her Tiffany doll, the bride of Chucky, and that alone had been enough for her to know in her bones that you two were well-suited. Most children your age had frowned upon the dolls, deeming them creepy, but not you. You adored them, treating them with as much care as Barbie dolls or action figures were treated. 

From that day, you and Amber had been thick as thieves, being one half of the other, which was why she could not tolerate Wes trying to weasel his way between the two of you. How would she handle him? Well, a more sane person would have likely come off with a lie, would have spread gossip meant to sully his name and ruin your perception of him.  You were so good, though, so forgiving, so mere gossip would not be enough. Perhaps that was why when Richie Kirsch proposed a dark, blood-bathed plan to recreate the 1990s Woodsboro killings, she agreed without hesitation or regret. If pushed for her motive, she would without a doubt chalk it up to her love of the Stab franchise. She knew it is not that simple, though, for when Richie proposed his list of victims, she wasted no time in adding Wes to the list. C'mon, Richie. It'll add shock value. He's the son of a legacy character, after all, she had pointed out, even though Judy Hicks could hardly be considered as such. She had, in Amber's opinion, contributed little, the same way that her son had. Richie had thought her important, though, for he had agreed and added him to the list of victims.

That was why now, Amber waited outside of the Hicks residence, donning the typical Ghostface costume. The black material of the robe felt hot against her skin, itchy, but the knife felt right in her hand, its hold so comfortable that it felt as though it was made for her. From the shadows of the porch, she waited, anticipation strumming wildly through her veins. Richie was on the phone now, no doubt, luring Judy back to the house. She could put up a fight, could try her best to preserve her son’s life force, but her efforts would be for naught; her son had sealed his own fate when he had tried to take you, to steal you from Amber. Did he really think that she would sit idly by and let it happen? No, it was not in her nature to do so. To take such a profound loss sitting down was weak, and she was not weak, not when it came to you.

When Judy pulled into the driveway and ran up to the front door, her face a storm of fear, Amber jumped out, emerging from the shadows like a harbinger of death. And oh, what a perfect harbinger she was, for she mercilessly stabbed Judy, delivering upon her one devastating slash after the other. It was a wonder that she had ever become the sheriff of Woodsboro, because she went down easy, so easy. 

Her son went down even easier.

After slaying Judy, Amber left her lying there in a river of her own blood to be found. That was exactly what Wes did, for as if sensing something was amiss, he pulled open the front door of the house and was met by a most horrid sight: the lifeless, cut-up body of the woman who had given him life, who had cared for him when no one else had. Unbidden, a grief-stricken cry tore its way out of his throat as he threw the door closed, trying to prevent the killer from getting in. Little did he know that Amber was already in the house, watching him, waiting. He leant against the doorframe, wheezing from a mixture of pain and fear. “Oh, God. Oh, God,” became a litany, the only words he seemed capable of . . . until Amber came out, her knife poised, aiming for his neck. In an act of pure desperation, his hands flew out, catching hold of the knife before it could make contact with his neck. “Fuck you,” he gasped as they struggled, fighting for control of the knife. He was distressed, willing to do whatever it took to survive, but she – she was incensed, rage incarnate. Months of pent-up vexation and jealousy came out, giving her the strength to win, to gain back control. This saw the knife plunging into his neck, immediately stealing away his breath and drawing out his scarlet blood. “No, fuck you,” she snapped, her tones cold as ice. The voice, it was her own, not that of Ghostface. “Now, die like the pussy you are.”

And he did . . . It was oh so satisfying to Amber.

Wes’ death seemed to hit you hard, to cause great pain to overcome you, which was why Amber stayed loyally by your side, doing everything she could to ensure that you were okay, that her actions did not break you. Little did she know that you took notice whenever she snuck away, believing herself to be discreet. You knew what she had done, but could not bring yourself to care all that much. Wes held no true place in your heart, after all, not the way that she did. And, perhaps, deep down, you knew that his murder, unlike the others, had been personal . . .

i HC amber as a child's play stan. idk why, it just makes sense, so here's a bonus fact: one year, for halloween, y/n and amber wear matching chucky and tiffany costumes. you can decide who wears which.

ALSO i know richie killed wes, but i changed it for the sake of this one-shot.

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[meropegaaunt]

PLUTO PROJECT

tara carpenter x reader based on this request.

summary: your friends find out about your relationship with tara.

rating: mature due to kissing, implied sexual content, and mentions of the woodsboro killings.

word count: 812 words

© caarpenters 2023

Your relationship with your girlfriend, Tara Carpenter, had not come as a surprise. Not at all, for the two of you had been close since childhood. Almost inseparable, but you could never quite be inseparable while Amber Freeman had been in the picture. She had been the only other person who had been as, if not more, close to Tara than you, but you had never hated her. How could you when she had acted so loyally as her friend, always moving to defend her, to ensure that she was not mistreated? She had loved Tara, had opened her heart to her, exactly as you had. Perhaps, with time, that love had withered and fallen away to nothing, though, for when Richie Kirsch found his way into her Reddit inbox, she had happily agreed to go along with his plan, to kill all of her friends, even Tara, in the name of cinema.

Their plan had not gone off without a hitch, for both Amber and Richie had found themselves dead, butchered at the hands of the Carpenter sisters. It saddened you to lose a friend, but you had not cracked, had not fractured into a million unmendable pieces as Tara had. Seeing her heartbreak, you had to push down your sadness and be strong in order to comfort her, to make her whole once more. This saw the two of you growing closer than ever before, and eventually, months after the legacy killings, you had shared a kiss. A chaste kiss, a mere brush of lips, but it had been enough to light a fire within the both of you, making you ache for more. So you began seeing Tara in secret, sharing kisses behind closed doors and sometimes, when you were feeling bold, you two hid away in dark corners and let both your hands and mouths wander.

This was one such day, but you were not kissing in a dark corner. Your roommates, Sam and Quinn, were out for the day, off doing whatever it was that tickled their fancy, leaving just you and Tara alone in the apartment. The television was on, playing a marathon of the Scary Movie franchise, but you were hardly focused on the television. Instead, your focus was on Tara, on how her mouth slotted so perfectly against yours. She lay beside you, her body offering an inferno of heat as your lips moved languidly together. Eventually, the kiss turned hot, consuming, which was why you two did not notice when the six locks to the apartment came undone. You did not even notice when the door was flung open, giving your friends a full, unimpeded view of you and your girlfriend. It was only after a whistle left Quinn’s ruby-stained lips and filled the air that you and Tara broke apart, your eyes growing comically wide. Heat bloomed on your face, sending flickers of embarrassment through her body, because you had not the faintest idea how long they had been standing there nor much they had seen.

“Woah, I did not see that coming,” Chad remarked, his mouth turning down ever so slightly, because he too had felt himself drawn toward Tara. Jealousy churned in his belly, eating up his insides, but he was happy for you both, truly.

“How?” Mindy asked, disbelief overtaking her features. “Literally everybody saw that coming, Chad, even Ethan.”

Chad’s mouth fell theatrically open at that, prompting him to turn and face his roomate with an expression akin to betrayal. “You knew and didn’t tell me?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he retorted, holding up his hands. “I thought you’d figured it out yourself.”

Behind the bantering trio, Quinn held out a hand to Anika, looking wholly self-satisfied. “I told you that they were already together, Anika. I mean, c’mon. Y/N can barely take their eyes off of Tara.”

A small, barely perceptible pout crossed Anika’s features as she retrieved a twenty dollar bill from her wallet, placing it in Quinn’s expectant hand. They had been intimately aware of the romantic tension that lay between you and Tara, being so real and consuming that it could be cut with a butter knife. Anika had not known that you were already together, though, which was why she had lost the bet that was dependent on when you had begun seeing one another.

Their antics were paid little by Sam, for her dark eyes were stuck on you. Brimming with uncertainty, she asked, “Are you two . . . you know, together?”

“I—“

“Yes, we are,” Tara cut you off, donning a small smile. “We’ve been together for a while now.”

“Oh . . . good. That’s good. I’m happy for you two, but Y/N, you should know that if you hurt my sister, I’ll kill you.”

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[meropegaaunt]

Could you please do 'Fuck being friends' and 'I dont want them, I want you' with Graham Dunne.

omg yes. the tension will be immaculate