#fic: there will be blood

[blue-aconite]

There Will Be Blood - A Top Gun Maverick Mafia!AU

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x OC, Jake Seresin x OC

Summary: Ava Castello always knew she was going to end up marrying Bradley Bradshaw. She knew it from the moment she overheard her parents fighting in the kitchen at 3am when she was 10 years old. After that it had been set in stone and honestly, it wasn’t that bad. 

Bradley was easy on the eyes and despite the ruthless name he’d made from himself as Nick’s heir, he was always kind and polite whenever he and Ava were in the same shared space. She could think of cruller men to be betrothed to. 

She knew that their marriage would be a way for her family to get out of the debt the owed the Bradshaw family and she was fine with paying the price. She’d be safe and looked after as Bradley’s wife.

But after a whirlwind of a night, Ava ends up at the Seresin estate, the last place she should be at. The shared hatred between the Bradshaw’s and Serein’s is no secret and their constant fight for control over the city has taken many lives and years. 

After Jake saves her life that night, Ava knows she owes him a debt. And that debt might come with too high a price.

The Girl in the Creek - A Top Gun Maverick AU

Pairing: Jake Seresin x ?

Summary: Sheriff Manfred Johnson gets the call at 7am on a Sunday morning. A jogger has found a body in the woods, out by the creek. So much for his quiet morning.

It's no secret that the creek is a popular hangout for the town's teenagers. After interviewing several witnesses, who aren't much help, the sheriff department rules the incident as accidental drowning. To placate the distraught family, the creek is closed to the public to avoid further accidents.

The newspapers name the case "The Girl in the Creek" and it sticks.

Everyone says that his sister drowned, that she was drunk and fell into the creek and the people around her were too drunk to help. Everyone says it was an accident.

But Jake knows something else happened that night. He just knows it.

25 years after his sister's death, Jake decides to find out what really happened that night. He's a detective now, he's got more solved cases on the force than anyone else.

With the help of friends and family, Jake is determined to find out the truth. There's so many unanswered questions.  And the most intriguing one of all, what really happened to the girl in the creek?

In The Deep - A Top Gun Maverick Mermaid!AU

Pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Everyone knew the stories. During the summers, it was all your town thrived on. The local legends brought a swarm of tourists each season, all of them searching for what you believed to be absolute bullshit. 

Vessels overturned in the middle of a calm day, sailors abandoning post and jumping into the water for unexplainable reasons. A faint song in the evening breeze, heard by only those meant to. Beautiful yet terrifying creatures roaming the deepest parts of the ocean. Sharp fangs and enchanting eyes, shimmering tails and a deadly song. 

Those were the stories your grandfather and father had fed you your entire life. But growing up in a coastal town with parents who all but worked on a boat all day long, you know better. You’ve never even seen anything remotely close to a resemblance of the creature, so you don’t understand how the legends fascinate anyone.

“Don’t stare at your reflection for too long, ma cherie. Or the creatures might lure you into the water, never to be seen again.” That was your grandfather’s warning each time you went out on the ocean. You’ve always scoffed and ignored it but this time it feels different. This time, his warning stays with you as you watch the clouds roll in and the waves grow bolder. What if there’s really something down there? And if there is, what is it?

Sharpest Blade - A Top Gun Maverick Hunger Games!AU

Pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: After winning the 79th Hunger Games, your life changed completely. The Capitol loved you, the people loved you. You’re the first tribute in decades from District 1 that didn’t volunteer to enter the games. 

With the 80th Games looming on the horizon, President Cain annonce that the tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district. 

Thrown into a conflict with deadly consequences, you’re not sure who to trust. You’re paired with former victors deemed as the best of the best, forming an unlikely alliance. 

While on the outside of the arena, an uprising is brewing and your mentor is doing whatever he can to make sure you make it out alive.

Swords and Smoke - A Top Gun Maverick Royal AU

Pairing: Jake Seresin x OC

King Nicholas II and his wife Queen Carol were blessed with not one but two strong and healthy boys born within the year from each other. 

Bradley came first, a true winter child, born to follow in his father's footsteps and ascend the throne when the time was right. A true heir to his father's kingdom.

Then there was Jacob, who was happy to be second in line. None of the heavy responsibilities on his shoulder, happy to be an advisor to his older brother. He knew he one day would have to shoulder being the right hand man during his brother's rule but it never bothered him.

When their parents arrange for Bradley to wed the Princess of one of their allied kingdoms, Bradley is devastated. While he knows his duty, he's deeply in love with one of his mother's handmaidens, Natasha. 

Jacob decides to help his brother out, and offers himself to take Bradley's place. He's not the heir, but being the second born of the most powerful king in the South is quite the feat.

Jake soon realises he’s thrown into more than just an arranged marriage, suddenly caught in a deadly spiral with an outcome no one is ready for.

[rose-of-oz]

OC PRIDE MONTH CHALLENGE 2024 — Day Three: Bi

Make something for an oc that identifies as bisexual and/or biromantic!

↳ ANASTASIA UPLAND (THE HUNGER GAMES OC, BIROMANTIC + BISEXUAL)

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic,

@artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand,

@ginnystilinski-reblogs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @oneirataxia-girl,

@arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs,

@eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag. (Also tagging @manyfandomocs.)

[gongyussy]

deepthroating a gun without breaking eye contact...... he put his entire gongyussy into that | SQUID GAME 2

+ the video because the sound he makes when he puts the gun in his mouth? [redacted]

update: he improvised that. the man really said i'll go full slut.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon’s home.

Which means he’s glued to your side.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two of you are in a local bookstore, the shop having caught your eye while out on a stroll together, each of you going to your respective shelves to find your preferred genres.

Simon grabs the first novel he thinks sounds interesting, quickly snatching the book by its spine so that he can cross the few steps back to your side.

His eyebrows furrow when he notices how closely you’re holding a book up to your face, your own eyes squinting at the back cover.

“Havin’ trouble there, love?” He asks as he approaches.

“Can’t believe I let myself run out of contact lenses.” You reply, trying your best to decipher the blur of black ink on the pages.

“Could’ve worn your glasses.” He retorts, something he’d already suggested more than once since you ran out of your contacts and had to order new ones.

“You know I only like wearing them at home.”

“But you’re so cute in ‘em.”

“Yeah well, you’re the only one who thinks so.” You mumble under your breath, though Simon hears it of course, the crease in his brow deepening.

“Wha’s that supposed to mean?” He gruffs out.

“I just got teased a bit in school was all Si, typical kid stuff. Just stuck with me I guess, but it’s fine, I have my contact lenses.” You explain to him.

Simon considers your words for a moment, the gears evidently turning in his head, muscular arms crossed over his large chest.

“And do we know where these fuckin’ tossers are at now?”

“Oh my god Simon, don’t-”

“Have we got any names to work with?”

“That is not-”

“Any addresses?”

“You are not about to-”

“Pictures?”

“I was like ten years old-”

“S’alright lovie, we’ll dig up your yearbooks when we get home.” He simply says, plucking your book from your hands and heading towards the register to pay.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Gravity Falls was strange, and the townsfolk even stranger, it seemed.

The twins had been unceremoniously dropped off on the side of the dusty road, the roar of the bus engine fading away as the driver wordlessly drove off without fanfare. The poor man had almost seemed close to tears ever since they had entered the thresholds of this seemingly innocuous town, all too eager to speed off and away while leaving the two children coughing and wheezing in its dust.

It had not even been a full minute since their lackluster drop-off before they became well acquainted with the oddly sociable and irritatingly chatty inhabitants of Gravity Falls. A single conversation with a pair of boisterous policemen already told them all they needed to know about the history of the town, as well as the whereabouts of their Great Uncle Ford.

"The Mystery Shack," the townsfolk had called it. It seemed as though their distant uncle had earned himself somewhat of a reputation amongst the locals. He was the town cryptid; the ever elusive mad scientist that lived in the outskirts of town in this so called "Mystery Shack". No one really knew who he really was; but everyone knew exactly who he was.

So, when the twins found themselves stood hand in hand in front of the rickety old shack, they hadn't really known what to expect when door had swung open with a deafening slam.

He was a strange man, their Great Uncle Ford. He seemed nothing like the cackling looney lab-coated madman they had imagined from what meager hushed information the townsfolk had offered them. It seemed as though the tales of a scientist gone mad that experimented on stray children that wandered into his spooky "Mystery Shack" was but a cruel rumor.

He mostly just seemed unhealthy, to be honest. His sickly, pale frame utterly drowned in the thick red woolen sweater that practically seemed to hang off of his lanky body like a second flap of skin. It made him look almost child-like, like a kid trying on their parents clothes; which somewhat diluted the intimidating effects of his looming height.

Although, the townsfolk's apparent fear of their Great Uncle Ford seemed to have some merit.

For one, Grunkle Ford really didn't seem all too human. He wasn't inhumane, per se; just, not entirely himself, if that made any sense. Looking at him was like looking at an incomplete puzzle; or looking at someone who you remember all your life wearing a hat, suddenly coming to work one day without one, and it takes a little too long for you to remember what is missing.

It was like Grunkle Ford had lost pieces of himself. Somewhere, to someone. His eyes seemed... almost empty. They were a little too dull and a little too opaque, lacking the lively shine of life everyone else seemed to have.

Another thing was that Grunkle Ford wasn't entirely alone. There was... someone else. The twins couldn't exactly pinpoint where, but they could feel its stare, whatever or whoever it was. They could almost feel its stare, a non-existent eye trailing a weird prickling sensation across their skin. The twins recalled the words of one of the townsfolk, a tall bestacled man with haunted blind eyes; although unseeing they could have sworn his gaze never seemed to leave them, as all he said was:

"Don't catch IT staring at you"

The twins had an odd feeling that IT was looking at them right now.

They didn't even notice when the pale bony hand of Grunkle Ford suddenly reached into their personal space, barely registering his words at all, much less the extra fingers that adorned each of his rough, worn palms.

They didn't take the hand.

If the twins had thought the outside of the shack looked decrepit, the inside seemed somehow even worse.

Every inch of exposed wall, ceiling or floor were utterly covered by sprawling symbols, summoning circles, and indecipherable words that seemed to be in an entirely different language than any the twins knew. They overlapped and tangled into one another into big, messy, red splotches of clustered nothings.

There were notes, diagrams on ripped pieces of aged looking paper scattered everywhere, with hardly any room for post-it notes squeezed wherever there was room. Lit and unlit candles were placed absolutely everywhere; either hidden in the dark corners or openly stood in the middle of the floor; sometimes in a circle, sometimes not. The melted fallen wax had coagulated into a hard white mess onto the floor; the smell of cheap vanilla scented candles intermingling with the smell of halloween fake blood (and Dipper was convince there had to be some real blood there, too) to create a sour concoction that stung their noses unpleasantly.

The shack was sparsely furnished with rarely any furniture at all. Not even a couch, the tables and chairs simply pushed to the walls to make more space for the endlessly swirling symbols and pentagrams. The twins were hesitant of stepping on any of the summoning circles, carefully sidestepping the candles and walking over the line of the pentagrams.

The attic, where they would be residing, was not much better.

Maybe they did end up in a mad scientist's house, after all.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Vampire lover that can’t drink your blood without you keeping his cock warm.

He has to be balls deep in your pussy, otherwise he gets all hard and cums in his pants just from one sip of your blood.

It’s just way less messy to already have his cock buried in your cunt, and he doesn’t like to waste his seed. He’s a powerful vampire that needs an heir, that sperm is valuable!!

So every time he needs to feed, he pushes your expensive panties to the side and sits you on his cock, content to cum inside of you.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Nothing will dispell the "the curtains were just blue" myth faster than writing something yourself, because the amount of pretentious symbolism i am putting in my silly little fanfics is ridiculous. I mean SO much with these words, literally every single one of them. This fic has twenty five typos and zero correct uses of punctuation but if there's curtains you bet your ass I put thought into what colour they were.

[cartoonsinthemorning]

Girl Help, I can't stop thinking about Stan's drifter years

[dcxdpdabbles]

Jason: I can't make sibling game night.

Dick: Give me ONE good reason why you can't! We've been planning this for months Jay!

Jason: I know, and I'm sorry, but Danny caught the flu.

Tim: Who's Danny?

Jason: My son-

Damian: I am a UNCLE!? You have sire a child and have yet to introduce me to my nephew!?

Jason: I-

Damian: How old is the child!? Have I missed his first steps? Words? *Gasp* HAVE I MISSED HIS FIRST LAUGH!?

Jason: Danny isn't a infant he's five-

Damian: Five!? I have missed five birth celebrations and holidays, and who knows what else!? All because of you!

Jason: I just adopted Danny! I found him beaten black and blue in the dump. I think some asshole was trying to kill him. My men are searching the city.

Tim: I think it would be a good idea to replace Sibling Game Night with Sibling Man Hunt instead. I think we owe it to Danny for meeting him so late to Hunt down the asshole who attacked him. All in favor?

Damian/Duke/Cass/Steph: Yes!

Tim: Dick, are you opposed to-wait where is Dick?

Jason: He ran out the window as soon as he heard what happened to Danny. My guess is that he wants to find the asshole before you so he can put him into the ground. Don't look at me like that, Dick's always been bloodthirsty and violent. He just hides it better.

[rubyfunkey]

The Rehabilitation of Death by @bamsara

didnt have time to clean this like i wanted but i needed to get this scene out of my head desperately. im good now

[toxicanonymity]

DOMESTICATION

MR. GHOSTFACE x F!READER 🔪 1.8K WORDS SUMMARY: He has his way with you while you're stuck. WARNINGS: 18+ Noncon, unsafe PIV, knife/blood, collar. Inspired by this scene and ask 🔪 Divider 🔪 MY FICS

Down on all fours like the prey you were, you tore the cloudy, plastic flap off its hinges and began to squeeze through the little door. You thought to scream but choked on the air you drew in. With your head through the hole, you coughed and glanced around. No one in sight. Fallen leaves tumbled and scraped across the driveway over the muffled sounds of the party.

No one was coming to save you.

You managed to wriggle halfway out, but no further. In the process of trying, your skirt got all bunched up. The cool air of the garage was hitting your ass, and your lace panties with their heart shaped cutout were doing nothing to help.

He had to be enjoying this. Probably admiring his knife with a smug tilt of his mask. Why was he so quiet?

You stopped struggling, taking a moment to catch your breath and think. He should've caught you by now. Was there any chance he left the garage? Any chance he wouldn't kill you?

He didn't have a habit of leaving them alive.

When you began to struggle again, a weak motor droned awake, making your stomach drop. The garage door began to lift, and the bottom edge of it dug into your stomach. Your heart sank with dread. Within seconds you’d likely be dead or mangled. Seconds, IF you were lucky. The thought of him dragging out your demise was even worse. You had seen his crime scenes.

Your knees lifted off the ground as the door made its ascent.

“Please,” you begged, shoes sliding against the floor.

The garage door creaked as it came to a halt. Your feet pedaled in futility, searching for the floor. You lifted your chest, trying to wriggle backwards. The only way out of this cursed little door-–if there even was a way out-–led right to his knife.

“Please, please, I won't run. I'll be good,” you begged through tears.

Silence. Unlike him.

“I'll be good,” you repeated quieter. "Please, Mr. Ghostface."

The motor started again, and you winced. But the door began to lower, allowing you a moment of relief as your bare knees met the cool, smooth floor.

His footsteps got louder and clearer as he crossed the space. Despite being unable to see him, you knew his presence loomed behind you-–you could feel it in your bones.

Sure enough, two gloved hands gripped your thighs, lifting your lower body for a moment and spreading your legs before setting your knees down further apart.

He made a place for himself between your knees, spreading them even wider. The smooth fabric of his robe pooled over your legs with him between them. He ran his gloved hands up your torso from your hips to your waist, pushing your skirt up further so it was up around your navel. Then, two satin thumbs lightly brushed your skin, tracing the heart-shaped cutout of your underwear.

After a moment of rustling behind you, a gloved finger slotted between your panties and ass. He pulled the garment out from your body, then the elastic tension released with a slice of his knife.

More rustling. His movement made the robe graze your butt. You weren't sure if you were imagining the sound of his belt coming undone behind you, but the thought of it made your face heat up.

The heavy fabric of his robe lifted off your calves, removing any doubt about what he was about to do. You tried to ignore the way your pussy throbbed.

The smooth head of his cock nudged your entrance, then slid wetly along your slit, forward and back. You hadn't realized just how aroused you were until feeling cock glide so smoothly against your well lubricated cunt. The head lingered at your front, nudging just the right spot. Your hips tilted all on their own, and he paused before sliding back to your wet little hole, resting the curve of his tip just inside.

He gripped your hips and pushed forward, intruding into your tight, warm sleeve with his thick, hard cock. Inch by inch, his stiff manhood pushed its way into you, the pressure of his girth pushing the breath out of your lungs. He slid all the way in without much difficulty and paused after bottoming out.

You took a much needed breath.

The skin of your chest radiated warmth. Your whole upper body was hot, despite the cool air.

Your lower body was warm and stuffed.

Two big, gloved hands wrapped around your thighs, then lifted. Your body lurched forward as far as it could, then he pulled you back on him, bottoming out deeper before he let your weight back down.

You braced your forearms on the driveway and he moved his hands up to hold your hips. He withdrew most of his length then squeezed your hips and pulled you back again as he slammed all the way back in. This wasn't bad… he was slow, almost careful.

Almost as though he could hear your thoughts, he seemed to drop all restraint. He buried his cock in you at a steadily increasing pace. You were shaken by just how good he felt inside you.

You bit your arm to stifle your moans, but it was no use. He'd have to hear your sounds of pleasure, as humiliating as it was. You removed your mouth from your bicep, leaving a string of spit as you took a deep breath.

As you inhaled the night air, it smelled like someone was having a bonfire... Someone, somewhere had come outside. Maybe even the neighbors.

But you didn't cry for help.

It was as though the cock in your cunt had gagged your throat, paralyzing you. It couldn't be that you didn't want him to stop, could it? No, you told yourself.

With every thrust, it felt more like a lie.

The rhythm of his pounding made your breasts jiggle. Your arms and wrists rubbed against the driveway, but you hardly felt it. Any discomfort was drowned out by the pleasant stretch of his girth, and the grip of your pussy clinging to his length as it pushed through you.

You closed your eyes and went somewhere else, giving into the feel-good chemicals coming to boil in your blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was the rush of survival and how much was his dick, but the combination had you hurtling toward the stratosphere. Full, you were packed full. God, it felt good. Even better, the more you let yourself feel it.

There was something freeing about completely submitting to his will. Letting him use you like a fucktoy. Giving in, letting him win, you could relax and let it all wash over you. With your body held in his hands and wrapped around his cock, you felt weightless. There was no longer pressure to fight back or flee. The only pressure was low in your gut, building toward something unthinkable. Closer with each heavy stroke.

You spasmed with a whimper.

He abruptly sped up to jackhammer pace, pushing you to the brink within seconds. You rode that edge for longer than you thought anyone could keep up that pace. You remembered to breathe, and then you saw stars. The hair on your neck stood up as you clung to the ethereal force that rippled through your loins. Pleasure shot through your core to each limb.

He slowed down as you clenched around him, then bottomed out deeper. It was like he’d created more space in you and packed it with more cock than you ever thought you'd take.

Until the warmth began to spread inside, you didn't realize he was coming. He had given no outward indication of it. You could hardly distinguish your throbbing from his, until yours faded and he was still twitching.

The grip of his hands eased up as he finished. He held you with your ass flush against his wiry hair, anchoring you. Plugging you.

After a minute, it started to feel colder outside. You felt more exposed, vulnerable, but still dared to imagine he might leave you alive.

One hand let go of you, and his robe shifted, brushing the back of your thigh. He pulled back your ruined underwear again. This time, he cut through the side and took it all the way off. Then, the surprisingly warm flat of his blade pressed against the side of your butt cheek. It slid up over the curve of your flesh.

Your heart pounded, reminding you to fear for your life.

The metal left your skin, only for the point of the blade to then prickle the center of your lower back. He held you still, and his cock twitched inside you as he began to draw blood.

You pleaded, “don't," but your insides throbbed.

A sharp, white heat followed the blade, curving upward, out, and down toward your crack. He repeated it on the other side to complete the heart. Your ears burned and pounded with their own pulse. Your inner ears began to ache.

Finally, his cock slid out of you, and after a moment of jostling, he got out from between your legs. Then, facing your side, his robe grazed your back as he hovered over you and grabbed hold of your waist. He tugged gently. You extended your arms in front of you and held them together as he pulled you back into the garage. warm blood trickled into your crack as you sat up. His gloved thumb smeared it upward.

Clear snot was coming out of your nose. You sniffed and he wiped that too, with a knuckle.

Holding his knife, he showed it to you as he stood up. He crossed the garage in just a few strides while you obediently sat back on your knees, adjusting your bra and fixing your hair.

He returned with his hands full.

Your face fell blank when you looked up to see a collar with a leash hanging off it. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He tilted his head, then stooped down to reach around your neck and fasten the it. The arms of his robe created a curtain of darkness as he adjusted the buckle and tested the tightness with two fingers between it and your neck.

He stepped back, holding the leash, and tilted his mask, waiting. There was something else in his other hand. He clicked it, then tossed it aside as the garage door began to rise. He reached down and helped you up. Then, he walked you down the driveway and into the night, with a warm mess trickling down your thighs.

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thank you for reading 🖤

and tysm for your comments and asks 🙏the feedback and encouragement really helps me.

[blue-aconite]

There Will Be Blood 👀?

this has me incredibly intrigued…

Elle ♥️

There Will Be Blood is a TGM Mafia!AU that's been sitting in my drafts forever.

Ava Castello always knew she'd end up marrying Bradley Bradshaw. It was all their parents had talked about when they were growing up. How she and Bradley we're 'finally' going to unit their families, thus securing all of their futures. It was set in stone and honestly, it wasn't that bad.

Bradley was easy on the eyes and despite the ruthless name he'd made for himself as Nick's heir, he was always kind and polite whenever he and Ava were in the same shared space. She could think of crueler men to betrothed to.

She knew their marriage was a way for her family to get out of the debt they owed the Bradshaw's and she was fine with paying the price. She'd be safe and looked after as Bradley's wife.

But after a whirlwind of a night, Ava ends up at the Seresin estate, the last place she should be at. It's no secret the two families hate each other and their constant fight for control over the city has taken many lives and years.

After Jake saves her life that night, Ava knows she owes him a debt. And that debt might come with too high a price.

[rose-of-oz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

❝ For as long as she could remember, Anastasia had known she was going to win the Hunger Games. The oldest daughter and only child of a pair of politicians from Panem’s wealthy District Two, it had only been a matter of time before she had joined the long line of so-called “career tributes” that had come before her, volunteering for the Games because, as someone from a rich district who had had the advantage of actually being trained for this, she could afford to volunteer with very little fear of dying in the arena. And so, after years of training under the critical eyes of former District Two victors, of honing her skills with weapons of all kinds and developing her hand-to-hand combat skills until she could snap an opponent’s neck in only three moves, sixteen-year-old Anastasia had raised her voice at the Reaping and volunteered for the 72nd Hunger Games, determined and ready to enter the arena and add her name to the long list of victors from her district.

And so she had. After spending nine weeks, one of the longest periods of time a Games had ever lasted, in frozen and desolate terrain that had only toward the end become a blistering desert, after killing her way through twelve of her fellow tributes to become the deadliest tribute in Hunger Games history, Anastasia had been named victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, removed from the arena with both frostbite and a vicious sunburn and the blood of her last remaining competitor still on her hands, and taken back to District Two, where she was greeted with parades and parties and parents who proclaimed they’d never been prouder of her.

And she found that, contrary to what she’d always imagined would happen when she came back home a victor, she fucking hated all of it.

Over the next two years, with the exception of her Victory Tour, Anastasia gradually disappeared from the public eye, refusing all offers of a home in the Capital and training the next round of hopeful career tributes, until she became nothing more than a recluse, a self-imposed captive within the walls of her beautiful District Two penthouse, waking up screaming and thrashing from nightmares almost every night and never quite being able to believe that the blood she’d shed was gone from her hands. With every day that passed, she grew more bitter and full of rage towards the Capital and everyone who supported the Games, how they could watch and even cheer as children slaughtered one another for their entertainment and willingly send these children to die simply as penance for something that had happened so long ago, and with every day she lost a bit more hope that anything was ever going to change, convinced that the terrible cycle of violence was going to keep going and going and going long after she was dead, buried and allowed the privilege of a funeral where so many of the tributes she had killed were not.

But then, two years after the Games that had made Anastasia into a murderer, the two tributes from District Twelve had won the 74th Hunger Games together, choosing to die at the same time rather than let the Capital have its way, and Anastasia’s faith in the world restored itself by just a bit. As Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark began their Victory Tour and all of Panem dealt with the minor chink in the armor of their worldview that had come with their victory, Anastasia made sure to keep an eye on the two of them, becoming more and more intrigued with these two defiant young people from the poorest district and how they continued to defy the Capital’s will even as those in power work to keep them on a leash, and whispers of rebellion travel even into the tall and elegant buildings of Anastasia’s district.

And when the third Quarter Quell comes along, forcing former victors from all districts to once again become tributes and revisit possibly the worst experience of any of their lives, Anastasia finds she is actually looking forward to finally meeting these two and seeing them up close - even if she fully intends to die in the Quarter Quell arena, refusing to let the Capital make any more of a monster out of her. But as the 75th Hunger Games commences and Anastasia finds herself becoming closer and closer to Katniss and Peeta, she wonders if, perhaps, allowing herself to die would be letting the Capital win after all. If it would not be better to survive - hopefully, potentially, with these two people she finds herself beginning to care for - and become a different type of soldier as the rebellion against the Capital kicks off in earnest.

If, after almost three years of horrific nightmares and nails bitten bloody and seeing the faces of the children she murdered everywhere she goes, Anastasia can finally show the glittering pigs in the Capital exactly what happens when they make children into killers and tell them to find peace. ❞

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[petrichal]

I see him sometimes.

same AU as this

[starry-bi-sky]

FUNNIEST fucking shit that comes with making Danny eleven years old when he had his accident in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" is the implication following, that everything that happened in the show did too. And I fully intend on (mostly) keeping it like that. There'll be some changes (of which I need to figure out) but for the most part??? Yeah relatively the same.

Like I FULLY intend on keeping Dark Danny occurring 6 months post accident. Do you know how fucking HILARIOUS that is??? That Dan got his ass kicked by a goddamn FIFTH-SIXTH GRADER?? I'd never show my face ever again. Homeboy spent the last ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, only to get his ass beat by a kid who hasn't even lost his last baby tooth. That's hysterical. I'm losing my mind just thinking about it.

AND PARIAH DARK TOO. Imagine being an eons old tyrant capable of dragging whole towns down into your dimension, and you get singehandedly shoved back into your coffin in less than 48 hours by a kid whose bedtime is still 8:30. You didn't even have the time to expand your army! You were still trying to take over the city the kid came from!

And he just!!! Shoves you back in!! Insane! This kid hasn't even been dead for a full year yet! He's still growing in his ghost fangs! And he just knocked you flat on your ass in an oversized mech suit. What the fuck! It's like looking down and seeing a four week old kitten meowing very indignantly at you and trying to bite your feet, except that kitten is also actually a black-footed cat and they have a 60% kill success rate, and oops! Now you're dead. You took too long laughing at the kitten trying to attack you that it clawed up your pant leg and ripped out your throat.

COULD I, realistically, span these episodes out over the course of 2.5 years prior to Danny's family dying?? Yes I could! Do I think it's hilarious (and horribly traumatizing, which makes it twice as fun) to shove all of this into the span of (roughly) a year instead?? Yes. Because the show has such a skewed timeline that I've always just assumed that at the end of the show, Danny was starting his sophomore year in high school. So fuck it, lets go for it!

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Continuation to This Post :]

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It was always so strange to hear adults argue.

Grown up fights never seemed quite the same as the trivial spats her and Dipper sometimes had. They were similar in some aspects, yes; Adults and children weren't as different as people liked to think. Mabel had seen adults verbally lash at one another with vicious words just as low hanging and petty as the ones she'd sometimes see kids the same age as her use. Adults arguing was essentially just a louder, angrier version of children fights.

And yet, there was somehow... more to it. Grown up arguments always seemed to weigh so much heavier in the air, and for so much longer than she'd ever thought possible.

Sometimes, the weight would leave quick and early, practically gone by the next morning. However, occasionally, the weight would stay; and grow heavier, and heavier over the years. Until it came to a point when the weight was nothing but a choking, stifling presence that seemed to fill every room in the house and buzz deafeningly in your ears like an unpleasant static that made your head pound.

Then, one day, the pressure would burst with a loud yell, a slam, and a bang, and start building up all over again. It was a cycle Mabel was much familiar with.

Her Grunkle Ford's "Mystery Shack" didn't have that air.

The shack's air smelled like burnt out candles and cheap discount Halloween fake blood, with a hint of real blood underneath the stinging scent of old wood and aged parchment. It wasn't necessarily a very nice air, certainly not in any way the fresh, crisp, clean air of the streets of Piedmont, but it smelled more like home than she'd ever felt back in California. It just smelled like... Grunkle Ford.

She liked her Grunkle Ford. He was super weird; with an even weirder Uncle as his roommate. He checked her and Dipper's arms and legs every morning "just in case someone broke in at night to steal a sample of their bloods"; he despised overly sweet foods (baffling, truly); and he had exactly 27 locks installed on the front and back door respectively that he could unlock all in under a minute with his really fast extra fingers. He reminded her a little of Dipper on some occasions, no matter how much the latter liked to deny the similarities (although, bar the demonic obssession).

However, last night, the air suddenly grew heavy.

Grunkle Ford had a fight.

Mabel hadn't heard it, and she hadn't seen it, but she knew there had been one. She was an expert recognizing the signs; she could always tell.

When she had awoken that late morning, the stuffy summer air had taken an even more sour note than usual, and had become a touch heavier than it should have been. Either that meant Grunkle Ford had just recently finished up a ritual, or a particularly rowdy argument had taken place; and Mabel knew that Grunkle Ford only performed his rituals between 2 to 4 AM, when he thought the twins were well asleep.

It was strange, to feel that same heavy air push down upon her temples and pound that same painful rhythm of a mounting headache as it used to do so often back when Mabel was in California. It had already happened a few times at the shack, but this one felt... heavier, than usual. She didn't think she would have to encounter the discomforting weight again this summer, away from her parents. Yet here she was. Aching.

She knew Gunkle Ford and Uncle Bill fought and bantered. With Bill being a permanent resident trapped within her Grunkle's mind, she couldn't imagine how they wouldn't. She didn't think even she could keep her cool if she had Uncle Bill as her brain roommate 24/7.

In any case, their interactions in front of the twins were mostly a mixture of exasperated resignation, or irritated tolerance, mostly from Grunkle Ford. Their occasional volleying exchanges of vitriol doused insults and words were short lived, and brief most of the time, especially when in front of the kids. They were nothing like the long, loud ones that could go on for hours back at her house in Piedmont.

Even so, there were some times when Mabel would see Grunkle Ford late in the evening, red faced and tight fisted, stomping down to the basement and disappearing into his lab there with a deafening slam of the rickety wooden door. She recognized that slam. He didn't want the twins to hear the argument.

Even if they could hear anything, what little they could glean always seemed to be only side of the argument, with Grunkle Ford yelling curses at Uncle Bill inside his head. She always did wonder what happened inside Grunkle Ford's head. Although, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. She couldn't imagine the state of the mind of someone who sometimes forgot to eat or sleep for almost a full week until someone reminded him.

The entire day passed with that same, tense air choking the atmosphere. Dipper had dragged Mabel and himself to some adventure in the forest, but it seemed to her that he was just trying to find excuses to stay out of the shack for the time being. Even he seemed to feel the unnerving heaviness of the air.

That night, underneath her sheets, Mabel pulled out the worn and well used wooden art mannequins Dipper and Grunkle Ford seemed to keen on using to summon Bill rather than their own shadows. With her trusty golden glitter pen (that she knew Uncle Bill loved despite what he claimed), she gently drew a closed eye upon the blank wooden face of the little model.

The eye opened, and she spoke: