#I can get that if your talking about rebellion maybe

[kiwisandpearls]

I don’t know how to put this but…honestly, it feels like some people in the pmmm fandom see madoka as nothing more than extension of homura…? Like don’t get me wrong, I love madohomu and I think their dynamic is very interesting.

no, my problem is with people who don’t see madoka is an inherently important character to the story and only see her as interesting and important because she’s important to homura.

does that sound right????

[quietwingsinthesky]

the thing about me is that I have this need to pick up every angel on supernatural by their scruff and place them into an enclosure that will allow them to, if not heal and become better, than at least to be petty and vindictive in a way that causes less death and destruction and is just kind of annoying. which I would argue is also good for them. let angels make choices where the consequences of their actions are non-existent rather than world-ending. teaches them free will in a safe, healthy way.

[moonsidesong]

fair ways into magical turnabout. hate nahyuta a lot more than i remembered

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[saphronethaleph]

He's the Calm One

“Give yourself to the dark side,” Vader advised, as he stalked through the darkened areas of the throne room. “It is the only way you can save your friends. Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for…”

He paused.

“Your sister,” he said, interested. “So, you have a twin sister. If you will not turn to the Dark Side, then perhaps she will!”

“No!” Luke shouted, springing out of cover, lightsaber held ready.

Vader moved his own blade in a block, then stopped a moment later as he realized Luke wasn’t actually attacking.

“You mustn’t make her turn to the Dark Side,” Luke said, voice laced with urgency.

“I must not?” Vader asked. “That is not up to me-”

“No, father, that’s not what I mean,” Luke replied. “It’s a matter of safety. Personal and… galactic.”

Vader’s expression did not change, because he was wearing a helmet.

“You realize that I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said. “Who is your sister?”

Luke paused.

“Leia,” he said. “You should know that, father. Maybe now you’ll understand.”

Vader’s helmet tilted slightly.

“What?” he asked. “I never felt a thing. Her emotions never betrayed her.”

“She didn’t know,” Luke pointed out. “I didn’t know until you told me.”

“Still…” Vader mused. “The Force can be strange… but you seem insistent on keeping your sister from the Dark Side.”

“You’ve met her, haven’t you?” Luke asked.

Vader paused, giving that due consideration.

“...I suppose she would probably be suited to the Dark Side,” he said. “She would make a good apprentice.”

“You’re not listening,” Luke complained. “She would be a terrible person to have as an apprentice in the Dark Side of the Force, specifically.”

Vader attempted to glare at Luke. “You fail to understand the value of passion to the Dark Side.”

“Why have you stopped fighting?” Palpatine demanded, from the other side of the throne room.

“We are having a moment,” Vader called back. “I am attempting to turn Luke to the Dark Side by using his family members against him.”

“Very well!” Palpatine said. “Continue! That usually works.”

Vader inclined his head, slightly, the only sign of what was probably a frown under his helmet.

“I may need to think about that,” he said, under his hissing breath, then returned his attention to Luke.

Who was gesturing for emphasis.

“Maybe I’m not getting this across properly, Father,” he said. “But perhaps… you sent Han to Jabba the Hutt, didn’t you? You knew him?”

“I do not know Jabba the Hutt, son,” Vader retorted, his voice dark with rage. “I know who Jabba the Hutt is. But I fail to see the relevance.”

“As part of the plan to rescue Han, she got captured,” Luke explained. “Jabba chained her up and made her a dancing girl. The moment I began to fight during the rescue, she cut the lights and strangled him with that very chain.”

He stared into the eyes of Vader’s helmet, unblinking and unbowed. “Do you understand, Father?”

Vader considered that, then nodded, very slightly.

“I begin to see your point,” he said. “Damn.”

“If Leia turned to the Dark Side and was made an apprentice to you or the Emperor, it would be extremely bad for the health of everyone inside this room,” Luke summarized. “And also for the galaxy, more generally, though it would at least be run efficiently.”

“The Emperor has brought order to the galaxy,” Vader said, in a sort of distant voice like he wasn’t fully paying attention to the conversation.

“Have you seen how much he’s spent on pointless superweapons that get blown up by the Rebellion?” Luke shot back.

Vader held up his free hand, and for a moment Luke wondered if his father was about to use the Force… only for it to mean nothing more than a request that Luke be silent for a moment.

“...humour me, son,” Vader said. “What, exactly, is your plan here?”

“With surrendering myself to you?” Luke asked, and got a slight nod. “I hoped to be able to convince you that you’d done something wrong, and that you could realize that there was still good in you. That you were not trapped in the Dark Side, and could – if you truly wished it – return to the side of good.”

He paused. “...I will say, Obi-Wan and Yoda both told me it was impossible.”

“They do that,” Vader said, still sounding distracted. “And my daughter was raised by Bail and Breha, and she ended up… hm.”

“...Father?” Luke asked, after several seconds of silence had elapsed.

“I am just realizing that you are, apparently, Padme’s child of the two of you,” Vader said. “She killed Jabba the Hutt? Really?”

“Really,” Luke agreed. “Since you send Han to Jabba, we came up with a plan.”

He twirled his lightsaber. “First, I gave Jabba the droids C-3P0 and R2-D2, after concealing my lightsaber in R2. Then Leia turned in Chewbacca for the bounty, while disguised as an Ubese, and threatened to set off a bomb. Finally I came in to ask politely for Han’s release, offered Jabba one last opportunity to free us while about to be thrown into the Pit of Carkoon, and when he refused I killed… about half of Jabba’s entourage. Leia got Jabba and the other half when she rigged his sail barge to explode.”

“...this is a new feeling,” Vader said, almost to himself. “This must be paternal pride. Damn.”

“Have you turned him yet?” the Emperor called, waspishly.

“I’m working on it!” Luke called back.

Vader missed a breath, then his respirator worked overtime to recover.

“I still want to turn my daughter to the Dark Side,” he said, once he’d recovered. “But mostly to find out what would happen.”

“Fair,” Luke admitted. “I’m curious as well, but I don’t want to be in the blast radius and I’m fairly sure the entire galaxy would be the blast radius. Even if we were both trained Jedi I’d insist on being the one who came along, because I’d rather see you alive instead of a sort of faint ozone sheen in the air.”

“What is taking you so long, Vader?” Palpatine demanded, stalking over. “By this point, someone in this room should be dead. This delay is entirely tiresome!”

“All right,” Anakin replied, and pushed Palpatine off the bridge.

“...do you think that counts as dark side or not?” he added, glancing at his son. “I’m genuinely not sure, he was a very old man…”

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

I keep rewatching that epilogue scene and, the way Hunter and Omega talk about her joining the Rebellion... You can tell this is not the first time they're having this conversation. And I just can't help but wonder what the previous one(s) must have looked like.

Because something tells me it wasn't peaceful.

I just can't imagine Hunter having any other reaction than an immediate, definitive "absolutely not" the first time he hears about Omega wanting to join the Rebellion. Just like I can't imagine Omega being okay with that reaction.

Were they arguing about it? Were they butting heads and not backing down from their respective points? Because they would. Absolutely, they would.

Did their brothers have conversations with both of them separately? Did Wrecker tell Omega to give Hunter a break because he's old and worried? Did Crosshair convince Hunter that he can't keep a grown woman grounded just because he's scared about her? Did Echo tell him that if this is Omega's calling, he has to let her do her thing?

She tried to sneak off. As if she didn't want to go through this again. As if she thought leaving without a goodbye would be easier on everyone and this way no one can stop her. After all, she made up her mind. She's going. But when she turns the light on and spots Hunter sitting there, she's not even surprised. She nods to herself like of course. Of course he's here.

This literally sounds like they've been over this before. But this time the conversation is surely more peaceful. They both have the other's perspective in their minds now.

This is my choice and I know it scares you but I need you to understand.

I know I won't change your mind but I don't want you to go, I want you to be safe.

This must have been said before as well. Maybe in anger. Maybe in pleading. Or desperation. I wouldn't be surprised if Omega got very frustrated with Hunter for treating her like she's still a kid. Nor would I be shocked if Hunter had trouble articulating his point of view in all his worry and panic. But here, it's a confession. It's very vulnerable. It's the truth Hunter doesn't want to hear and gives a reason why.

Omega is a grown woman now. Skilled, capable, brave. Hunter doesn't doubt that. But to him, she's always going to be his little girl no matter how old she is and I am still speechless at the fact that we actually see him not only struggling with it but also admitting to it.

Back on Pabu, after they escaped Tantiss, Hunter told her: "We've all fought enough battles for one lifetime." And now, years later, Omega echoes this back to him. "You've all fought enough." Almost like she's reading Hunter's mind and knows that if he can't stop her, he's going to want to join her.

The way he wants to reach after her here when she gets up. Like he wants to say wait, no, don't go yet!

But this is her fight, just like she says. She's never been able to sit still, we know that, we've seen that. Just like Echo back in season 2, she can't stand the thought of staying down and doing nothing when there are people out there fighting for freedom. People she can help. She's a skilled pilot now (I can bet she'll become most famous in the Rebellion for her flawless Tech-Turn), she has absorbed everything her brothers have taught her over the years like a sponge and now she wants to use that. After years of living away from the fight, she's finally ready to get back out there and make a difference in the galaxy. Fight for peace because that is her calling.

She's ready, but Hunter is not.

You can tell it's literally tearing him apart to watch her go. That's his baby, the whole reason he's living the life he has now. He gave his blood, sweat and tears so she could grow up safe and happy and away from the Empire's clutches. And now she's going back right into them, willingly.

But she's all grown up. And he has no choice but to let her go do her thing. So he holds her close and I don't doubt sends out a prayer that she comes back to him safe and in one piece. He closes his eyes and commits the feeling to memory because who knows when will be the next time he gets to do this?

And it might be destroying him inside but he's so damn proud. And he knows she's got this. She doesn't need her old man to watch her back anymore.

And yet still this old man, with gray in his hair and beard, this old man whose posture is hunched and who is moving slowly and having difficulty standing up because of his accelerated age, is telling his very grown up and very capable daughter that if she needs him, he's going to pick up his blaster, don the armor and join her in the fight.

Because that's what fathers do.

[emptyjunior]

Still in hunger games analysis mode, do you guys ever think about what Seneca did Wrong. About where he failed at the job he was given.

Because I think what his true fatal flaw was, was he believed it. He believed in the game and all of the propoganda surrounding it.

And this was something that was bound to happen in Snow's kingdom eventually! He made citizens that were clueless and lost in his little cloud nine. You can't make killers out of your arrogant, privileged sheep population!

Seneca Crane believed that the games were about the great show, about making stars and entertaining the masses.

The cold truth that you and I and Snow are aware of, is that the games are one part of the great oppression machine. They're a good political tool to be in control of, they can be used as a punishment to target whoever you need to, you can manipulate the big show on screen in a crude mockery of what's going on in real life! You can crush the spirit of certain districts, you can keep other ones loyal to you. And the victors are an extremely valuable Product that you are endlessly creating, idols and mouthpieces for your horrible propaganda machine.

So that's what the games do! A good tool for a dictator to have, and if you're aware of all the context, then being in charge of them gives you a lot of power.

But Seneca?? Seemed to genuinely believe he was there to put on a big fancy show😭 He was so excited about it, he chatted to sponsors, he did the interviews, he picked themes😭

Like of course he gave Katniss a 12 after her stunt, he wasn't worried about the fire outfits or her popularity at All. Because he thought it'd be good ratings, and it was! That's what he thought the goal was: Get the best, most entertaining story possible.

All those talks in the Rose garden?

This was not Seneca checkin in with the boss, that was the boss saying Hey what the Fuck are You Doing.

Because Seneca truly did not understand at all! How dangerous it would look for someone from district 12 to rise up that fast! (And Snow most definitely understood Very Quickly because he has been dunked on before by a black haired girl from district 12😭)

But even after that Very explicitly clear talk, Seneca kept allowing Katniss chances to tell the Mockingjay story. Because he is a fool, who thought he was there to make tv😭 And did not realise that the silly story they tell in the games, has very real effects on the districts.

Like the metaphor for it could be you hire someone to make you maybe pro-military, pro-war, propaganda films, and that goes great for years until they get a few generations in and the new guys are like "oh we're just making popular films here right?" And let your direct rebel enemy, star in a touching depiction of how great rebellion is😭 And then your movie guy goes "how was that boss? Lots of people watched!" ☠️

[rueclfer]

heyy there can i request some more touya headcannons? i really enjoy your way of picturing him because it’s just so canon and he’s kinda a lovely dick y’know. whatever comes to ur mind. thank u so much!!

weelll since you gave me so much freedom here r some touya as a housemate hcs ANNDD a moodboard bc i enjoy the visualization <3 since we talked abt this the other day too !! (i yapped so hard here sry sry this is so indulgent)

bakugou's and sero's version too hehe

housemates // touya todoroki

touya hates the idea of living with a complete stranger or one of his siblings, so what other option does he have other than forcing his best friend (crush) on a lease with him?

the newfound freedom definitely puts him on his ass for a few weeks. barely sleeps. eats like shit. trash is scattered everywhere. several unpacked boxes. it stays like this until fuyumi comes over to check our the place and gives you two a hard scolding to get your shit together.

more often than not, you'd end up waking up on the couch with your legs sprawled out across his lap and his upper half leaned over the couch arm rest in deep sleep. staying up so late was probably one of his favorite things about living together. being able to talk as loud as you wanted, watch movies late into the night, look over the city from your balcony- he found solitude in existing with you.

if he wasn't already codependent before moving in together, just know his ass will be GLUED TO YOU. you'd be doing work in your room and he'd barge in and flop down on your bed without a word. maybe he'd gotten a bit too comfortable.

if he's feeling extra annoying that day, he'd bring in his guitar and amp and keep asking you to rate his riffs until you entirely give up on work and give him some attention.

is it obvious his love language is quality time? not only that, gift giving too. he's like a fucking crow.

"look what i found. it's a rock. for you."

makes him soooo giddy to see your display of the rocks, feathers, and dried up flowers he picked up for you on his walk. sometimes you'd come home and there'd be a new addition to the ever growing collection.

ofc you'd return the energy in a different way. touya will not cook for himself. ever. he eats like shit as an internal rebellion against the healthy diet he was forced upon as a kid, but you will not allow that boy to rot himself from the inside out!! he can expect several tupperwares of portioned out meals with notes attached to the lids if you know he'd be home all day by himself.

"to t <3. if you don't eat every last bite i'll find out and it'll hurt my feelings and i might combust into flames or something idk don't risk it!"

i can also imagine him holding back tears whenever you ever come into his room to hand him a bowl of cut up fruit. the first time you do it he'd be speechless like jaw dropped taken aback. has he ever felt love like this??? i think not.

despite all of the kind gestures, he's still touya todoroki. hides your keys if you annoyed him that morning by rushing him in the bathroom and makes you a few minutes late to class/work. chronic door slammer. pisses with the door wide open. no sense of privacy and do not gaf to knock. always locking himself out -> i feel strongly about this like imagine coming home after a long day and he's sitting out in the hallway with a pouty face waiting for you hehehe.

i don't think he'd realize this crush until a few months after you've moved in together. how could he when you two practically already act and bicker like an old married couple?

yes- peanut butter belongs in the fridge. no- it doesn't. stop leaving your socks everywhere. you forget to flush again. stop slamming the doors. you ate my chips, didn't you? don't lie. did you really need to put the mugs up that high? (he does it on purpose, and tightens the lid to every jar too.)

it wasn't until one late evening when he comes home to find you frantically mixing a doughy substance in a large metal bowl. you never bake, but you have your own oven now, so why not?

"god, finally. help me, my arms hurt." you groan, shoving the bowl in his hands. "i think i fucked up."

he sees the hurricane aftermath of your kitchen- flour everywhere, egg shells left on the counter, every single jar imaginable opened and scattered around. he could be teasing you about the mess, but god you looked so beautiful with that stupid wrinkle in between your eyebrows as you read over the recipe, and the streaks of flour across your pant leg from wiping your hands, and the way you swipe away the stray pieces of hair falling in your face with the back of your hand- oh fuck.

he thinks he's falling in love with you.

he swallows it, but he starts acting kinda weird around the apartment.

like he's.... avoiding you?

living with his best friend whom he just so happens to develop a crush for, would eat him alive. he locks himself in his room and chain smoke out his window while he's stressing the fuck out. he told you he'd stop smoking, but he's sure you'd understand the need for it right now. he hopes you can't smell it.

i also think he'd be a stress cleaner lmaaoo he cannot sit still with his thoughts for too long, so the headphones are ON and blasting and he'll definitely use that as a scapegoat + the loud ass vacuum for ignoring you if you try to talk to him while he's on this cleaning frenzy.

you think he's sick LMAO imagine the pain he feels when you come knocking on his door and calling out that you're leaving a bowl of soup and cough medicine outside his door for him. he doesn't tell you that yeah he's sick but *not in that way*

lovesick. that boy is lovesick!!!!!!

how do you avoid your housemate while you figure out how to control your feelings?

he confesses via note that he leaves on the kitchen counter. really simple tbh nothing too extravagant, but he signs off by telling you that he's staying crashing at fuyumi's for a couple days.

you text him a string of obscenities to get his ass back home and he does (he's scared of you).

he CAANNOOTT talk about his feelings in an adult way. he is sitting on the complete opposite side of the couch, twiddling his thumbs, and staring down at his feet like a child while you reread his confession note out loud to him. you find his discomfort hilarious but endearing. he finds you unbearably insufferable.

jesus the amount of times in that apartment where he would storm off to his room whenever you two got in an argument or you pissed him off...old habits die hard, you guess, because this isn't the todoroki household anymore and you aren't scared to lose that deposit and kick a door down.

once you corner him and get him to open up about his feelings the air in the room suddenly shift!! the clouds are clearing and the sun is shining woooowww look at what good communication can do.

sharing an apartment with your BOYFRIEND is no different than sharing one with your best friend. i think he'd like to keep your separate bedrooms to have your own space, but you'll rarely sleep apart.

so! many! new! traditions!

helping him dye his hair on the first saturday of every month. biweekly horror movie marathons. counting the communal piggy bank ever couple months. trying new takeout spots until you find THE spot for every category- chinese, pizza, ramen, etc etc.

and finally, an everlasting mark on your first apartment together: a small carved out heart around your initials left on the inner corner of a kitchen cabinet done with his pocket knife on a random weekday evening while you two are cooking dinner together.

-

touya tag: @moonchild701 @kaldurahms-lover @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm

[after-witch]

The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret. 

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful. 

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s  immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled. 

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves. 

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war. 

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol. 

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games. 

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win. 

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could. 

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes. 

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs. 

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you. 

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it? 

Her smile grew wider. 

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze. 

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue. 

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.” 

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else. 

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone 

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples. 

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you. 

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead,  you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned. 

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

--

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think  you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors. 

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash. 

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats. 

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom. 

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about 

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked. 

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it. 

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.  

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?” 

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm. 

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father. 

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

--

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets. 

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there,  unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated. 

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it. 

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl. 

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little.  You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not. 

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

--

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up. 

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans. 

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door. 

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.” 

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.” 

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home. 

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University. 

--

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment.  You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber. 

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy. 

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject. 

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?” 

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t. 

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.” 

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested. 

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

--

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone. 

There was an Avox in the room. 

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married. 

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic. 

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now. 

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered. 

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did. 

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home. 

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home. 

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

--

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1. 

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls?  I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No.  You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world. 

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.” 

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

--

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you.  You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father. 

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in? 

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette. 

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real? 

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick. 

“Good.” 

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year. 

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow. 

Of course you would. 

Your life depended on it. 

[redstarwriting]

the clash | i. hey, ho! let’s go!

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie

a/n: it’s here 😎 no but fr, i proudly present a new series focusing on hobie brown, loml. i‘m trying to make it gn, so if you spot anything that needs fixing lemme know. i also did include a bit of a description of what you look like, but it’s mainly just to affirm the gothic spider-person look. and if you don’t like it, you can just pretend it isn’t there, my character designer brain just took a hold while explaining lol. enjoy y’all, there’s more where this came from 👀

now reading: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: ii. time bomb

───────────────────────────────

In theory, the two of you should have been great friends. Best friends, even. He’s called Spider-Punk, and you’re called Spider-Goth, this alone made Miguel assume the two of you would get along better than all of the Peters. Unfortunately for Miguel, he was dead wrong. It was fine at first, a good introduction. “Spider-Punk, meet Spider-Goth,” Miguel says, motioning to the two of you. You simultaneously turn your heads towards him, “Don’t call me that.” You look at each other, seemingly sizing each other up after speaking the same words at the same time. In reality, the two of you were checking each other out, but no one needs to know that. “Fine. Hobie, meet (Y/n). (Y/n), meet Hobie,” Miguel says as Peter B. Parker hops next to him, excited to see the two of you interact. Your gaze first fell on his many piercings, which suited him very well. Almost as well as the spikes coming out of the shoulders of his tattered denim vest. “See somethin’ you like?” you hear his thick cockney accent, and you shrug. “The constant changing makes it difficult,” you say, causing him to shrug. “I hate consistency,” he says, staring you up and down. “I like the guitar,” you say, and he nods. “Everyone does.” You raise an eyebrow, and he takes in the way your heavy black eyeliner makes the expression look more exaggerated than it is. His eyes go down, taking in your outfit, which seems to be varying in different gothic styles, but overall is all black with silver studs, spikes, and charms sticking out everywhere. He notices the two of you share a liking for combat boots, and perhaps his favorite thing about you are the intricate and all black spider-web tattoos on your hands crawling their way up your arms. Hobie clicks his tongue. “Goth, eh?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem with you or something?”

“Feisty for a goth.”

“Instigative as all punks are.”

“What… is going on,’ Peter whispers to Miguel who shakes his head. “I thought they would be best friends?” Peter suggests as he places a binky in Mayday’s mouth. “I did too…” Miguel says, “Maybe this is just a way these types of alternative people talk?”

“Tal vez tengas razón… Hobie does love to be abrasive for no reason,” Miguel concludes, and Peter shrugs and they zone in on the two of you again. “...I don’t suppose there’s no reason we shouldn’t get along,” Hobie suggests, raising an eyebrow at you. “I agree. We probably think similar things… for the most part.”

“For the most part, huh?”

“Just that we have similar ideas, but most likely not the same,” you respond, and he crosses his arms, his guitar moving loosely behind his back. “Opinions on anarchy. Go.”

“It’s the ideal society—”

“Good start—”

“But completely unrealistic.”

“Excuse me?” Hobie looks at you with a glowering expression. “Humans are inherently assholes. Selfish, shitty, assholes. As amazing as it would be to have anarchy running rampant,” you shrug, “It’s unlikely it will ever happen.”

“You can’t actually believe that,” Hobie says, exasperated, “I mean you actually think that we can’t achieve it? You get enough people angry, and they rebel, they push for anarchy. I’ve seen it happen; I’ve led a rebellion.” You roll your eyes. “And do you live in a perfect anarchical society now?”

“Not yet, but we’re gettin’ there,” he clenches his teeth, and you sigh. “I admire your blatant idiocy disguised as an ambitious dream,” you say, and he huffs. “Would you just talk like a normal fuckin’ person and stop usin’ these dumbass words and shitty poetic language?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, or are you as deaf as your ideologies?” This time you scoff. “I don’t have the time to be berated by someone who lives in their own delusions to try and feel the slightest bit less angry at the world for giving him the shitty cards he was dealt.”

“And I don’t have time to listen to the rubbish ramblings of a miserable twat who digs desperately into their black hole of a heart to try and feel somethin’ when the truth is they don’t even know what they stand for,” he fires back. You glare at him. He glares at you. As if on cue you both flip each other off before you web away. Peter’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Well, that went horribly!”

Miguel punches him on the shoulder, resulting in a soft ‘ow’ and a tiny angry noise from Mayday. “What the hell was that Hobart?” Miguel nearly yells and Hobie snaps his head towards him. “Don’t call me that, neither! They don’t get it. It’s not enough to want to make a difference in the world. You need to take action. Goths love to sit on the sidelines and lament instead of playing the offensive,” Hobie explains, a deep frown on his face, “Watch out for them. They might not be able to do what it takes when it counts.” Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hobie, you’re supposed to show them around—”

“No, fuck that. I’m not goin’ anywhere near that gothic monstrosity,” Hobie says shaking his head in defiance. “We made a deal. You would show all the younger spider—”

“Yeah, well you can shove that deal up your fuckin’ ass, mate, I’m not doin’ shit for them!”

“Okay, okay, calm down there, man. Why don’t you just ask Gwen to help you? Maybe Miles and Pavitr too? That way you fulfill your promise, 'cause I know promises are important to you, and you won’t have to talk to them!” Peter reasons and Hobie looks over at him. He furrows his eyebrows. That would help the situation. And maybe he’d be able to help you see just how garbage your take was with Gwen on his side. “Fine. But I’m not doin’ it cause I need help, and I’m not doin’ it because you told me to. I’m doin’ it cause it’s the last thing that they’d want,” Hobie says, pointing at Peter while saying it, flipping Miguel off, and then webbing away. Peter looks at Miguel who is clenching his fists… and his jaw. “You seem stressed, but don’t worry about it. Not all of us need to like each other, I mean there’s so many there’s no possible way we all could and look at you, you hate Miles even though he’s awesome and—”

“Shut. Up. Peter,” Miguel growls, stalking away while mumbling various things in Spanish. Peter looks down at Mayday. “Tough crowd,” he says as she giggles up at him.

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom​ @weyrrii* 

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

[zoeykallus]

Can you please please please do a

What made them fall in love with you- Wolffe , Rex, Jesse and fives? ✋🏻🙂‍↕️🤚🏻

Aloha! Oh sure, I love this topic 😊

Wolffe/Rex/Jesse x Reader HCs - How They Fall In Love With You

Warnings: None (Mostly Fluff)

Masterlist

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

Wolffe

How it starts:

It may sound strange, but the first thing he'll notice is that you're neither afraid of him nor condescending towards him. You'd be surprised how many people react negatively to him, partly because he's a clone, but also because his scars give him a slightly wilder appearance. Normal, decent behavior is already a ray of hope for the clone soldier.

You don't turn away, you treat him with respect and even if you find it a little difficult because the grumpy, handsome Wolffe makes you nervous, you maintain eye contact. This immediately makes you more likeable and arouses Wolffe's first cautious curiosity.

What happens next:

You think for yourself, you have your own opinion, even about the clones. You know what you want, and you have that smile that makes his knees go weak. Wolffe is anything but easily impressed, but you fascinate him. He may not be able to say exactly what it is from the start, it's lots of little things.

Wolffe never intended to fall in love, so he doesn't immediately understand the pull he feels when you're around, the pull you exert on him. He is always looking to be close to you, to make contact with you, and at first he doesn't really know why.

He likes your voice, he likes to listen to you, Wolffe admires the way you express your opinion, stubborn but not disrespectful. He's not normally a great talker, but he likes talking to you. Although you occasionally challenge him a little in your conversations, or perhaps precisely because of this, he enjoys your conversations to the full. You make him feel like he belongs, that his opinion is important, no matter what the topic, even if your opinions aren't always exactly the same. You take the time to discuss things with him that are close to his heart, really listen and try to understand. You probably have no idea how much he appreciates this.

In this context, it happens quite unexpectedly, a little smile from you, a look in your eyes, a tone in your voice and Wolffe is lost. He tries to spend every free minute with you. He already has your com number, so he calls you from time to time when he can, sometimes just to hear your voice and makes up some excuse to justify the call.

However, it will take him weeks, maybe even months, to admit to himself and to you that he has a crush. Be patient and try not to push him, sooner or later he will tell you of his own accord.

Rex

How it starts:

The rebellion has brought you together. You may not be a fighter, but you support the rebellion in whatever way you can. Maybe as a caterer, cargo pilot, cook, medic or administrator. No matter how you help, you do your best, and of course Rex notices. He notices the way you treat him and his brothers, you treat them like real heroes, soldiers, their welfare is close to your heart. You admire these men and their fight against the empire, and this is also visible to the outside world.

What happens next:

You keep coming into contact and your manner, your commitment, warms his heart. The fact that someone, who is not a clone, stands by their side in this way gives him hope again and again. After a while, it comes automatically when he sees you, he feels uplifted, hopeful, full of new energy.

It's actually pretty obvious, and yet you sneak into his heart rather than opening the door.

Rex seeks contact with you more and more often, discusses important things concerning the rebellion with you, even if you may not be able to contribute much, he wants to hear your opinion, feel the confidence in your smile, get the feeling that only you can give him, that everything will be all right.

He doesn't know what it is yet, why you have such an intense effect on him. Rex only knows that you are good for him, your smile, your words, your commitment, in whatever way. For him, in a way, it almost feels like you are the most important part of the whole rebellion. Which is nonsense from a rational point of view, of course, but he likes that feeling, he likes you.

The great leader, Rex, comes to rest with you, to find new hope and energy. When Rex returns from a mission, your face is the sign for him, the feeling that he is back home. He has been hopelessly in love for a long time without really knowing it.

Jesse

How it starts:

It's a coincidence that you happen to overhear the three clones talking about how poor the food they're getting is, how they're craving certain things. On impulse, you get some treats and bring them to the three clones (Jesse/Fives/Hardcase) who have been assigned to duty in one of the hangars for a while because of a “little stupidity”. In connection with their punishment, the food has also been restricted to protein bars.

The confused and, shortly afterwards, beaming, delighted faces of the clones make you grin.

Jesse looks up, with a critical eye, and asks, “What's the catch? Why is a Civi bringing us food?”

You laugh amusedly, assuring him that there isn't one, and you just wanted to do something good.

He looks at you indecisively for a moment, but finally goes for the roast chicken he had been craving.

What happens next:

You often pass the hangar on your way to or from work/university/etc., you pass it almost every day. The men greet you cheerfully every time. Again and again you bring food instead of just walking past, and soon you are invited to sit down and eat something too.

Out of curiosity, you ask, “How did the punishment actually come about?”

Jesse answers you, pointing at Fives and saying, “We helped tar and feather a Civi who was being a jerk to his girlfriend”

Fives chuckles, “It was worth it”

Jesse and Hardcase join in the giggles that elicit a grin from you.

“Sounds like you guys did the right thing”

Jesse smirks at you and says, “I agree”

You join the boys more and more regularly, sometimes even helping out a bit, joking and chatting. You like the clones, and they like you. Jesse in particular is very fond of you. The others are already starting to tease him about it, but they're decent enough not to do it in front of you.

He waits every day for you to come over again, he doesn't care about food anymore. He wants to see your face, hear your voice, make jokes with you. You're so nice, so different from other Civis. On the last day of his transfer, he asks for your com number to keep in touch with you.

You don't really expect him to call you, but he does, the very next weekend, and invites you to come to 79's.

You see a lot of clones here, a lot of the same or very similar faces. But apart from Jesse's tattoo, the grin he gives you is also unique. He is so incredibly happy that you actually came.

You sit together in a quieter corner and after a drink or two, Jesse says almost casually, with a wry smile.

“Hey you, I might have a crush on you”

@rintheemolion

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@ivyyyyy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Humping it up on hump day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You taste the cocktail and make a face. As sweet as it is, the alcohol is stringent in your throat. You set the glass down as Bucky’s fingers tap on his pint. You glance up, surprised to find him watching you. 

"Don't like it?" He asks. 

"Mm, no, I mean yes. No." You stutter out. "It's good, I just... don't drink much." 

"She's a good girl." Your mom teases. "I always had to push her out the door. Oh, don't even ask about prom." She grabs his forearm and cackles. "You would think buying a dress would be fun. Nope. I think she'd have rather gone to the dentist." 

Your cheeks turn hot. Four years past and you still cringe at the fitting room torture. You look down and fiddle with the cutlery wrapped in a red napkin. You really wish she wouldn't treat you like a child. You suppose at times you might act like one. 

"Those things can be tough. I barely remember mine. Only went so my buddy didn't feel like such a loser," Bucky shrugs. "But look at how far you've come. I'm sure high school is like a blip on the radar. Now the real fun begins, huh?" 

You know he's trying to help and you appreciate. But it only makes your chest tighten. The dread throbs in your temples. Life, it's all ahead of you but you have no idea where to start. 

"Yeah, I... I barely remember." You talk to the table. 

"She's a smart one," your mom praises. "I really lucked out. No teenage angst, no rebellion." 

You chew your lip and pick at the trim of the table. You sound lame. You are and you never minded the safety of that trait. Still, you'd like to be known as more than a boring little bookworm. 

"Okay, here we are." The server rescues you from further humiliation. "Chicken caesar." 

She puts your salad in front of you, "cheese steak sammy and macaroni salad." She lays a plate in front of Bucky, "and the sizzling fajitas." 

Another server appears with a wooden plank, set with a cast iron pan atop it and fixings; tortillas, salsa, guac. It smells delicious but you know it's too early for all that. You'd be even sleepier and you still have to get unpacked.  

"Enjoy," the waitress smiles and struts away. 

You unwrap your cutlery and use the knife and fork to shred the lettuce. You should've known better than to order salad. It's always so awkward to eat with others around to see. 

"Mm, pretty good," Bucky says. "Lauren, how's that extravaganza? Really went all out." 

"Wasn't expecting all this." Your mother scoops grilled peppers into a tortilla, daintily with her fork as her nails shine in the light. You remember when you asked to get a manicure and she said they were impractical... 

She's changed but you don’t feel all that different than when you left for college. Maybe you should have tried harder. Well, it's not like your life is over. Far from. 

"How about you?" Bucky prompts and once more you meet his gaze with a startled blink. You nod and swallow. 

"Good. Just boring old salad." You say. 

"Always chicken caesar," your mother chirps. "Creature of habit. Don't worry. You'll hardly be surprised. By tonight, she'll have one of her books and you won't hear another peep." 

You bite down on your tongue. You're not sure anymore if she's bragging or she's chiding you. Her life is so exciting now. Her hair is highlighted, her nails are filled, and her makeup... she's actually wearing makeup. 

"Didn't think you could work with those." You say as she catches her nail on her napkin. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm not in the ward anymore. Sweetie, didn't I tell you? I do clinicals now. I just show the new ones what to do. Not much hands-on stuff." 

"Uh, I remember. Sorry." 

"Too sharp," Bucky chuckles. "Can't even hold her hand without getting clawed." 

She jabs him with her shaped tip and he grunts. They laugh together and you look around. You're the sore thumb sticking out. Ever the third wheel. Even when you had 'friends', you sat on the sidelines, confused by their inside jokes. 

"It's very good. Thank you." You sit forward and focus on the salad. The sooner this is over, the sooner you can do exactly what your mom expects. Hide with a book. Alone. 

🩵

Home is always a comforting sight but not as much as you expect. A flicker of guilt sparks in your chest. Bucky just bought you lunch, you shouldn’t be so negative. Still, you just want to unwind after a long day of traveling. 

As much as you want him to just go, you would never say as much. Your mom seems happy with him. She even seems healthier. It’s nice to see her taking care of herself, she’s done enough of that for others for too long. 

You get out of the car but Bucky’s too fast. He has you bag in his hand before you can react to the trunk opening. He smiles and insists, “I got it. You lead the way.” 

“Mm, I could nap about now,” your mother calls over the car roof. 

You agree internally. The whole train ride, you looked forward to burying yourself in blankets and leaving the world behind. It would be rude to do so with company around, even if they aren’t yours.  

You follow your mom to the front door and she unlocks it with a yawn. You enter and slip your shoes off on the mat. Things are different. Not too different, you can’t quite place everything. Yet you notice that the coat rack has been replaced with mounted hooks across the wall and the rug at the bottom of the stairs is new. 

“Oh!” Your mom spins, surprising you before you can sneak past her. “I forgot about your surprise!” 

You look at her then over your shoulder at Bucky as he plunks down your bag. You wait for him to respond. He just offers a small curve of his lips. You turn back. 

“You,” your mom taps your nose. “Come on. Ah,” she waves around you at Bucky, “bring her bag with you.” 

Your mom grabs your arm and ushers you upstairs. You can’t resist, too swept up in fatigue and confusion. He follows behind you. What’s happening? 

“Okay. I hope you like it,” she goes to your door and your stomach flips. Oh no, what did they do? She swings the door open and backs up, waving inside, “tada!” 

You hesitate but make yourself step into the doorway. You glance around and your mouth slowly falls open. You blink at the room. Wow. 

It’s not awful, just another change you’re not ready for. Instead of your old rectangle bookcases, new circle ones have been built into the walls; white instead of brown. Your bed is the same but the wood is newly re-stained and the bedding is shade of pink you wouldn’t necessarily choose. A heart shaped rug is spread across the floor and your previous desk has been replaced with one that folds into the wall. 

There is an entirely new piece that stands out. A vanity in the corner. The mirror is the same shape as the carpet and the stool has a fluffy seat. 

“Oh, wow...” you utter as you step further inside. 

“Bucky is so handy! I always wanted to do this but I didn’t know where to start. Oh, just wait until you see his place,” she rambles as she trails you. “He built the whole thing himself.” 

“I had help,” he tuts and sets your bag down. “Tried not to do too much but just added a fresh coat to everything.” 

You’re silent.  

“Sweetie?” Your mom touches your arm. 

“I’m... surprised. That’s all.” 

“She’s speechless, Bucky!” She squeals and claps her hands. “I knew she’d love it.” 

“Heh, yeah. Well, I hope it isn’t too much.” He rubs his neck as he looks around. “You can let me know. I can change whatever you need.” 

“No, no, it’s really nice. Like really. I...” you wring a finger in your other hand. “Thank you.” 

“Lauren,” he sidles past you and nudges your mother gently. “Why don’t we let her get settled in? I’m sure she’s beat from the road.” 

“Right, right,” she beams around the room before she faces him. “Of course.” She glances over at you, “sweetie, let us know if you need anything, okay?” 

“Mom, I’m fine.” You show your teeth sheepishly and hover around the wall. 

Bucky leaves first, your mom following as she cranes to stare at the room. She leaves you with an excited wiggle and you go to close the door behind her. Once it’s shut, you sigh. You weren’t ready for any of this. Somehow coming home has proven even more disjointing than going away to college. 

You plod to the bed and flop onto it. You roll onto your back and let your eyes rove. It is so cute. You would have killed for a room like this in high school, even on campus. Yet it does seem a lot. You’re sure once you get a job, your mom doesn’t expect you to stay too long. 

Maybe this is a good thing. A little less pressure on you to get out but not exactly. With Bucky hanging around, you can’t help but be in the way. You’re not the only one who needs to adjust to your return. 

You can worry about it all later. For now, you need to close your eyes and stop thinking. 

🩵

The afternoon wears on as you dawdle away on your phone. You can barely keep your eyes open as the screen glares back at you. It’s almost six when you make yourself stop the addictive word game.  

You lay listless, trying to urge yourself to get up and do something. You lose the battles as your eyes close and you drift off without realising it. In your subconscious, you’re just as you are in reality. Just lying there, motionless and mindless. 

You wake slowly as pressure squeezes in your pelvis. Your bladder forces you to action. Even with the painful weight throbbing inside, you move without urgency. You sit up slowly, dizzy from the unexpected doze. You stand and shuffle to the door. 

You leave it open as you go into the hall and let your feet guide you. Habit takes down to the bathroom door and you reach for the handle. It turns from the other side and you recoil in surprise. Bucky stops short as he emerges and apologises. 

You stammer as you gape back at him. Somehow after the whirlwind morning, you forgot all that change. In your grogginess, you didn’t see the new walls or the white bookcases or think. 

“S...Sorry...” you murmur.  

You’re consumed in radiating heat as you stare at the stubble along his neck. Any lower and he might be embarrassed. He is shirtless after all. You’ve never been the best at looking people in the face but you have no choice. You examine his silver-streaked hair, slightly tussled, and his grizzly beard with its dusting of white along his chin. 

You step back as he raises a palm and dips his head. “No problem. Gotta get used to each other, I guess. Bad timing, is all.” 

“Right,” you agree dully. 

He looks back at you and his forehead creases. “You okay?” 

You wince. “Yeah, why?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Just... you look... a little out of it.” 

“I fell asleep,” you run your fingers along your throat nervously. The motion catches his eyes. Their startling blue hue gleam in the light. 

“Right. I figured you needed it. Long ride...home.” His gaze flicks up to meet yours. “Sorry you’re stuck here with us boring old people. You probably miss it already.” 

You shrug, “not really.” 

“Not really? What about your friends?” He rests his hand on the door frame and leans. 

“Didn’t... just study buddies. Classmates.” You look away and shift as your bladder aches. 

He clears his throat and stands straight. He steps out of the frame and you jump at his sudden movement. He touches your hip to keep from colliding with you and sidles by. 

“I’ll just get out of your way, baby girl,” He squeezes, his hand lingering for a moment. “Welcome home.” 

He lets go and turns, strutting down the hall as you stand frozen. You hurry forward and shut yourself in the bathroom as you scramble with the sudden agonizing pang. You don’t have time to think, you have to go! 

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Part 7

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Implied physical abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 6 -- Part 8

Series Masterlist

Breakfast is a quiet affair. You're still trying to get your head around your strange husband. He feels like a walking contradiction. Angry, but apologetic and seemingly caring. You weren't too hurt to notice how strong his arms are as he moved you to the sink. He looked so stern and serious that, combined with the unexpected touch, you were certain he was going to lose his temper at you. Instead, he apologized.

"This food is so good," Jake comments. You realize he's already eaten most of his plate! "You're such a good cook. Where'd you learn how?"

You flinch a little at the question. "You're going to think I'm a horrible person," you preface. "The kitchen was one of the few rooms in the house my family never went to so I asked some of the staff to teach me cooking so I'd have an excuse to stay in there." You stop eating, waiting for him to tell you how horribly ungrateful you are to your family.

"That's smart," Jake nods. You look up at him, but he seems sincere. "What? You needed to get away from time to time and, while you could have just said you were managing the kitchen, you instead take the opportunity to learn a skill. Plus, that way you never have to rely on someone else to cook for you. Very smart."

"Oh, um...thank you," you sputter as you get back to eating.

"I'm guessing that's why you went to college? Like me in the military it was a good reason to get away?"

You nod and gather your courage before answering, "I even specialized in shark conservation so I'd have an excuse to be out in the middle of the ocean. Away from anything and everything resembling wi-fi or phone networks."

He chuckles, "I had similar scenarios, but in the middle of jungles. All I'd have is a sat phone or something that would only occasionally work." He pauses to take a few more bites. "Honestly, I think one of the reasons I went into Coms and Tech is so I could learn to detect if my phone was bugged by my parents."

Both of you go quiet again for a bit, alternating between bites of food and sips of coffee.

"Um," you start, "would, can I ask..."

"Feel free to ask me anything," Jake assures.

"Do you have any food preferences I should know about? Things to avoid? Things you're allergic to?"

Jake smiles, "no allergies, as far as I know. And I am, by no means, a picky eater. You cook, I eat, simple as that."

"Okay, um, what's, what's your favorite food?"

He thinks for a minute. "Honestly, I'm a sucker for a good cheeseburger. I know, I'm pretty basic like that."

"It's a comfort food?"

He takes a breath, "maybe. Growing up, my parents had almost complete control over my diet. In high school, me and a couple friends would sneak out for lunch and hit up the burger place down the street. It was the closest I had to rebellion."

Your eyes go wide. "That's...I never could!"

"It was definitely stupid," Jake agrees. "I'm not sure what would've happened if we got caught, but we needed some way to act out. I didn't want to become a bully, I didn't have sports as an outlet, so I needed something else."

Silence falls over the two of you again for a bit.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," Jake starts. "Why sharks?"

"They have such a horribly undeserved reputation," you begin. "So much so that they're over-fished and almost no one cares. They get mutilated for a delicacy and they did nothing wrong! They're incredibly important to the ocean's ecosystem but because of some stupid movie series no one bats an eye when they get hunted to extinction. It's just...not fair!" Your emotions start catching up with you so you so talking for fear of being taunted and sneered at for being "too sensitive".

"You're really sweet," Jake says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Have you been able to do any conservation things since graduating? Like a fundraiser or something?"

You hang your head in embarrassment. "Mother and Father would never allow it. Said they didn't want the family name associated with cold blooded creatures for fear of the comparisons the press would make."

"That's bullshit," Jake softly exclaims. "You can't even make an anonymous donation or something?"

You bite your lip, trying to gauge how much you can trust him.

Jake sees your reaction, "have you already been? Going behind your parents' back?" You stay silent. "If so, I seriously congratulate you! That's dedication to your cause and a sign of how strong you really are."

You're glad you're keeping your head down so he can't see the shock on your face. You really do hope he's sincere. That he can be trusted.

After a bit more silence Jake starts grabbing up the plates. "Guess I should keep my end of the deal and get to work on the dishes. Thanks, again for the delicious breakfast."

"It's not a problem," you whisper, fighting the urge to clean up for yourself.

At that moment you hear the door to the penthouse open and Jake's father loudly proclaiming, "we're here!"

Part 6 -- Part 8

Series Masterlis

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn;

@icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[f4riedimples]

i bet you can do a katniss x fem reader smut

haunted

pairings: Katniss Everdeen x fem!reader

warnings:public!sex,degrading,fingering,dom!katniss,sub!reader,strap on,slight!daddy kink

word count:1803

“I know that I’m onto you, I’m onto you.”

“Hey baby.” Katniss said a bit coldly as her voice rasped. It wasn’t her attention to be rude, that was just her sometimes.

“hey! So are peeta and haymitch still coming over tonight?” You asked hopeful. You hadn’t seen haymitch in so long and honestly thought you never would again.

you both also noticed peeta had started to improve months after the rebellion which gave you hope.

“Definitely. I’d make sure of it if they tried to get out.” Before you know it you felt a small kiss on your forehead causing you to smile sweetly.

as Katniss started to walk away you came up behind her and started to lean up and kiss her neck a bit. This caused her to tense a bit In surprise and satisfaction.

your kisses were innocent but as you kissed her jaw you realized that this was doing more for her then wholesome affection.

you gave her a kiss on her sweet spot and almost innocently did everything become a blur before you were pinned up against the wall.

you felt her roughly kiss you which you quickly reciprocated. It felt good knowing how (hard she can fuck you) much she cared and love you.

you lightly push her away just for a tease but just as she was about to go back in the doorbell rang.

you gave a small pout as Katniss glared. You weren’t too upset but katniss definitely was. It was understandable though.

you went to the door and opened it to reveal haymitch. You immediately hugged him and almost let tears of joy fall. Before you can even pull away Katniss is hugging him as well.

once you both pull away, haymitch gives a genuine smile. “Well hello, sweethearts. I guess you too are glad to see me.”

you smile at the once mocking name turned into a genuine one of endearment.

“of course we did.” Katniss says softly with a happy smile.

as the night goes on of course peeta also comes with a a cake in hand. He looks like he’s genuinely starting to be happy again.

just like his old self.

the night is spent with a nice dinner and dessert, reminiscing on the past and thinking of the future, how far you’ve all come and how hard you all fought.

it all paid off.

eventually you and Katniss are sat on the couch as peeta and haymitch take a comfortable seat on the floor in front of you both. They seem too in bliss with their current conversation.

as you listen you suddenly feel a hand creeping up your leg. You rub your legs together to make sure you’re not just imagining things before turning your head to Katniss.

She seems to be looking at the two in front of you but you can tell she might have a serious gaze or smirk on her face.

she’s playfully arrogant but Also serious. Especially when she feels cheated. This wouldn’t be a look or facade just to make you quiver.

she felt like you were only trying to tease her already. Only trying to tease her and get away with it.

before you can try to focus on whatever haymitch and peeta are talking about you feel Katniss slip in her hand just on the waistband of your panties.

You feel her teasing you before slipping two fingers in. She’s already curling her fingers wanting to hit that spot.

you try to look at Katniss begging for pity but she isn’t even paying attention to you. You can’t believe it. You also can’t believe the way you’re struggling to hold back the softest moans already.

you’re too scared to close your eyes. Too scared that if you do it for a split second you’ll hear laughter or gasp. Or silence. Maybe a yell or words of question. Something.

suddenly you feel Katniss swiftly remove her hand sharply leaving you with an empty feeling. Now you feel a mix of emotions. On one hand you don’t wanna get caught but on the other now you’re craving Katniss.

you’re surprised You didn’t let out a gasp though. You almost drown thinking that Katniss is gonna stop and had just teased you.

you thought that.

your mind started to come back to the conversation before you feel something rubbing against your clothed clit. Damn her!, is all you can think.

You knew what she was planning to do. But you didn’t stop her. You wanted it. It was fucking wrong and selfish, respect lacking and greedy.

but you didn’t care. You needed this. No matter how shameful it was.

you start to feel Katniss move your panties to the side as she teases your entrance with strap on. You feel Katniss suddenly rubbing it back and forth against your clit firmly causing your eyes to widen, for you to purse you lips to not moan.

it felt so good. The pleasure was gone but before you could complain it was back but even better. Somewhere better.

you feel Katniss slowly and gently sliding the strap-on into you as she holds the side of your waist for leverage and assistance.

she wants to to immediately bottom out but she knows it’s not the best idea. As she listens to the conversation she slowly starts moving in and out. You can’t deny how good it feels.

you don’t know why but the fact that you guys are doing this in secret is turning you on even more. She grips your waist more firmly as she thrust in a little stronger.

she picks up the pace a tiny bit so it’s not teasing but so it’s also soft. As you let her do this you guys hear some noise outside of the house and realize that’s it’s probably some lost animals just rummaging around.

but thankfully this extra noise causes more noise and even for haymitch and peeta to laugh and talk more.

usually you would think they would turn around to try and include you and Katniss in conversation, only to be shocked or suspicious at how quiet you’re both being with the look on your face.

but thankfully they don’t.

and with this extra noise Katniss uses this as an advantage to pick up the pace a tiny bit more. It’s a little fast now but it’s not causing too much noise that could be picked up.

you immediately clasp your hand over your mouth softly trying to hold it all in. You look to the corner of your eye as Katniss leans right in your ear and speaks.

“Are you a slut? Or maybe a whore? Either way you’re acting like one getting fucked in front of your best friends.” You almost threw your head back because even though her words worried you they also turned you on.

“Answer the damn question.” Katniss hissed in your ear as she continued to fuck you. You tried to shake your head no as you looked at her with the most pathetic eyes.

but obviously it didn’t seem that way. She didn’t believe a word you said. “You are a slut. You’re my slut. You’re just letting me do this to you with no shame.”

she speed her movements in the slightest making sure not to bounce into couch. She didn’t want you to even try to let out the words you were going to.

Katniss took a peak under the covers just enough to see how wet the strap on was. She slowed down a bit to tease. “Poor little thing letting daddy use her.” A part of you just wanted to Katniss to shut up or at least you tried to convict yourself that.

her words were so dirty but sounded so good coming from her. “You like the feeling of my cock in you?” At this point you were wondering how good of a whisper Katniss was.

You know there’s noise coming from what feels like everywhere but how aren’t they hearing this? Suddenly you see Katniss moving her legs so they’re still on the couch. Before you know it she slowly slides all the way in and from anyone who doesn’t move the cover it just looks like you two are spooning.

You feel Katniss firmly grab your hand and take it away before starting small thrust. Small thrust that eventually get a tiny bit longer and harder.

“maybe if i remove the cover and spread your legs for me then our friends will know just how much of a whore you are. It would be a normal thing for you right?” Katniss mocks.

this is stupid. Immature. But so fucking good. “You like it when I fill you up this way. That’s why you aren’t complaining.” This is really starting to take you over the edge now.

you try not to let out a small whimper. You try so hard. Your breath picks up in the slightest as Katniss doesn’t let up. She reaches her hand under the cover and spreads your legs.

not only is she going deeper but now she’s able to rub your clit. You try to whisper back but you know it’s gonna be breathy and too loud.

all you can mouth is “fuck.”

you see Katniss gulp softly as she starts to cum. She grips the top of the couch with one hand and grips your hip with the other as she starts to go as fast as she can without making noises.

after she cums you’re right behind her. Katniss gives your neck some kisses and a small lick.

this was the real punishment. Fucking your like this in front over everyone.

Your legs almost tremble as you cum. You let out a small whimper that’s thankfully covered by the sound of haymitch and peeta letting out loud laughter. You can’t help it anymore.

you turn to Katniss and give her a lustful kiss not caring if you get caught in the aftermath. At first you wanted to walk away after this act in front of your friends but it made you feel too many things.

you wipe your brow to make sure you’re not sweating and you’re thankful to realize your skin just heated up a bit.

you look at Katniss and wait. She slowly pulls out almost causing you to moan. Just as you were fixing your bottoms it seemed as though the night was over.

you almost wanted to believe they know. It feels impossible but they seem so unaware. Katniss looks calm as ever so you immediately try to make sure you look the same.

Katniss tucked her toy away, you got up and went out of the living room with slight jelly legs.

Katniss said her goodbyes and good nights to your friends as if nothing happened.

[queeranarchism]

It is important that we are honest about what confronting cops can mean, especially for marginalized people, and clubs that trivialize police violence and arrests (like XR) have been rightly criticized for it.

BUT there is a specific kind of online leftists that will post "but the cops will shoot us :( :( :(" under every single rebellious post and that specific kind of leftist needs to shut the fuck up.

Like, I get it, you feel bad about not doing anything and so you convince yourself that you really have no choice, that the risks are always too great, and so you want to convince everyone else of the same thing so you're not alone in your fear and your suppressed sense of guilt.

Maybe you even think you're caring, putting cautionary messages out there so others don't get hurt. But if risk avoidance is your only mantra and you're not talking about risk management, about jail support, about how to get away with rebellion, then you are not helping, you're dragging everyone down into your sink hole.

Rising up and fighting systems of oppression is risky, yes. It is also necessary. It is also life saving. It is also beautiful. So when we talk about the risk of doing an action, the next question should be "so how do we keep each other safe and do it anyway?"

[skullvgirl]

𝜗𝜚 if they would smoke or not { hcs ! }

warnings ;; smoker reader, very opinionated writing, possibly ooc, use of drugs ( duuuuhhhhhhhhhh )

incl ;; isagi, bachira, chigiri, barou, niko, reo, nagi

an's ;; a treat for the new szn for bllk ☺️

isagi ;; nah, probably can hang around ppl that do but never found and interest to do it himself. type of person to cough really loudly when he see's you smoking but you know it's a joke. plus it when you blow smoke in his face and he srunches up his nose and really cant find it in you too stop.

bachira ;; probs tried it a few times and never again. he coughs like a fucking witch when he smokes and he says it makes his tummy hurt so he stays away. doesnt care for your bad habits but seriously doesnt get the hype, and by this time in your relationship he's tried it all. nic makes him sick, weed makes him sweaty and tabacco makes him feel like he's got too much too lose for whatever the fuck he just inhaled into his body. lets your have your fun, while he has his.

chigiri ;; super against it omg. he's a clean gal, smoking doesnt make him feel clean. definitely tried it once but too embarrassed too admit his tolerace is dogshit and he got smashed immediately. definitely into the couging and mentioning how much he loves his clean O2 around you, also likes to say how your gonna die before 30 so that maybe you'd stop. ( innefective, you def keep smoking ) but he says it anyway. it's his way to say he tried even though he knows he really could care less and is just traumatized from a bad experience.

barou ;; absou-fuckin-loutley NOT. hell to the mf nooooooo. i could go on a tangent but the most obvious reason are one 1. he thinks it's disgusting 2. he has sisters he doesn't want to be a bad influence too and 3. see number one. like come on guys, lets really think about this for a moment. barou shouei, a smoker? have you seen his morning routine? blunts for breakfast is def NOT included. for this reason you guys probably never date, in fact he probably doesnt even know who you are, and vice versa. you might've crossed paths maybe once but in this universe, you souls never touch.

niko ;; it's a definite he does smoke, everyday, without fail. probably started when he was young for anxiety and shit and idk, guess it never left. loves smoking with you, taking rips off your pen while you run your fingers through his bangs and tell him how beautiful he is without his hair in his face. into hippe shit, likes bongs the most. vibes are always on 10, and also always down for a sesh.

reo ;; yes and no? has problably done it out of rebellion ( something other than nagi that was hard for him too get ) and partly as a stress reliever from life's regular bullshit. definitely into edibles way more tho, says he likes the feeling but wants too protect his lungs, so he lets you smoke while he chews on the little gummies you brought him. tolerance is also dogshit, gets really anxious and talks like a fucking madman, you have too hold him so he calms down. was definitely really close too greening out and you never let him smoke or do any sort of drugs after that a d honestly, he thanks you for it. worst high of his life.

nagi ;; nah, it's troublesome, being sneaky and having to hide whatever your using everywhere. doesn't care for you smoking around him but not sure if he wants to give it a go himself. ( this is after you'd explained how he'd feel after it ) eventually gives in because why not and whadday know, his tolerance is higher than mt. figi. he likes it when your high personally, not because of anything other than the fact that you laser focus on him and it makes his heart feel sooo warmmmm. better than any hugh he's had.

++ bonus !!

rin ;; no omg, he's so not into it, theres not even a chnace you could grt this man too be under the influence around you. not without strapping him too a chair and forcing him to suck on whatever concoction of wood is in ur hands. ngl if he was a smoker tho i dont think he's be into weed. doesn't like how parinoid it makes him feel and he gets really obvious signs that he's high. probably a vape demon ngl, nic buzz n what not. if it's not your thing thats fine. if it is great, trust me there will be a blueberry icy elf bar in his hands at ALL times. ( for anxiety too )

sae ;; no, he's ride or die for soccer and smoking he knows would hinder his ability too play. can't date anybody who smokes either, definitely into girls who workout and preferably have this cute happy go lucky, sort of golden retriever vibe ( too cancel out his black cat energy). can't imagine ever picking up any sort of substance for whatever reason, says its dirty and a drugs should be banned.

ego ;; no. end of story.

an's ;; wrote this all in one sitting, can i get a round of applause people 😏😝