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forwithinthishollowcrown · 29 days ago

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Thinking about a crack AU where the tributes parents are also Reaped along side them for the tenth Games which adds another level of horror to the “spectacle” part of them.

Like imagine not only does your kid have to fight for their lives but now so do you. This is specifically done cause Gual is petty nobody is liking her death match show and wants to get more viewers invested, and also because I headcanon that the earlier Games are focused solely on the children of rebels rather than to make a story.

Anyways onto the chaos, which would be the tenth Games!

Naturally this will obviously change things like the mentors relationships with their tributes, with more protective parents refusing to let their kids socialize with their mentors.

Anyways I personally headcanon that 7, 10 and 4 had the most rebellious people even if most of 4 was allied with the Capitol so the idea that Coral and Mizzen’s dad (because they are absolutely siblings), Lamina’s parents and Tanner&Brandy’s mom all knowing each other came to mind.

Which lead me to thinking, what if Lamina’s mother originally came from District 4? So we also got some family drama in the Arena as well?

Like imagine you find out that the person you’ve been making fun of this whole time is actually your cousin which causes you to get an earful from your dad. Because your cousin’s mom just so happens to be his favorite sibling who ran off a while ago.

Or finding out that your childhood frenemy is the daughter of one of your mother’s closest friends.

I admit this would probably be mostly Lamina focused in that both her parents go in with her to the 10th Games and they basically just… make it everyone’s problem. Like their snarky, mean and all that kind of stuff which makes the others wonder how their daughter is just so kind? Like full on questioning if Lamina is actually their kid or not because she’s so different from them as a person.

I just imagine it would be a very interesting take on the 10th Games if the tributes actually had adults there to try and help them out.

So we got some parents are solely focused on getting their kids out whereas other are also trying to be as petty as possible to the Capitol, perhaps they snark Gaul and her “theory” as a little treat.

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calielliott · 1 year ago

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big day for queer people

#doctor who dnp and hunger games? what year is it?#tenth doctor #i love david tennant #and dan howell cat pics #why do dnp own so many cat ears #doctor who #dan and phil

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notdeansbrother · 2 months ago

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God I TRULY would have thrived here 10 years ago I just looked at my surroundings I’m wearing a samulet, sitting next to my hunger games books, watching 10th Doctor era Doctor who. 2015 Sam you could have done so much.

#supernatural #doctor who #the hunger games #catching fire #tenth doctor #2015

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truefandemonium · 1 year ago

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UPDATE: I got my six!! Thank you to everyone who dropped suggestions! 🙏🥳 I will be working on these for the next week or so and will be sure to post when I’m done! Thanks again!

PLEASE someone give me this challenge

From the following fandoms I’ll do any character: Evil Dead (OG trilogy only), Ash vs The Evil Dead, X-Files, Arcane, Black Mirror, The 10th Kingdom, The Last Kingdom, Encanto, Zootopia, BBC Ghosts, Yonderland, Harry Potter, The Quarry, What We do in the Shadows (movie), Gravity Falls, AMC Preacher, Netflix’s One Piece, Detroit Become Human, Lunatics: A Love Story, Ravenous, Hunger Games (OG trilogy)

And if you have one you think I’ll like or want to draw, let me know!

First 6 to reply will be picked! 😁

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ianmalcom · 2 months ago

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I think about the bits of color Lenore Dove adds to her wardrobe, the bright blue, yellow, and pink. Are they scraps from this girl’s dress? A way to keep her memory alive? What color name did this rainbow girl carry to the Tenth Hunger Games? What happened to her after? Did she come home? Did she die in the nightmarish lab? What did she do to be erased so completely?

Sunrise on the Reaping + Lucy Gray Baird

#sunrise on the reaping #thgdaily #lucy gray baird #dailythg #thgedit

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ahsoka-in-a-hood · 1 year ago

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look i don't know either guys

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lqveharrington · 5 months ago

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The Black Dog | C.S.

summary: Coriolanus left you alone after he realized he had a better life in the Capitol. He didn’t know your ghost would come back to haunt him.

pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x ex!reader

includes: angst, abandonment, pregnancy, narcissism, a singular use of Y/N, manipulation

a/n: i love and hate coriolanus snow.

When you won the Tenth Annual Hunger Games and your name was spread across all pages, you thought you were finally through with all the pain and torture the Capitol would put you through. You thought that you were able to be sent back to District Twelve with no repercussions. The thought of just being able to exist with the Covey and the music. But the Universe had a funny way of showing you that your actions were disgusting.

They sent you your mentor.

You didn’t expect to see him anymore, especially when they found out you both cheated. Yet his gorgeous blue’s still allured you when he caught your gaze down at the Hob. The familiarity in them made you smile and the supposed love you both shared were fanned once more.

While he was peacekeeping in District Twelve, he spent all his free time with you and the Covey, learning about all your little quirks and how you grew up here. He was so obsessed in love with you that he would trade positions with the other peacekeepers to stay with you for longer or steal you away from the Covey whenever he thought you were spending too much time with them. He was absolutely smitten.

Or so you thought. You never thought he would leave after everything you went through together.

“Why are you up so early?” You put your chin on Coriolanus’ shoulder and tilt your head ever so slightly to see his face, smiling when he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Just thinking.” He murmured and messed with his dog tags. “Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?”

You hum and sit up straight, looking at him with curiosity. “I do… Why? You already thinking about leaving this horrible place? Not to your liking?”

“The only thing I like about this place is you.” He moved his dog tags over his head and put it around you, smirking when you held them tightly in your hand. He moved closer and pressed a light kiss to your lips, only partially moving away to speak. “That’s for you now.”

“Don’t you have to head back soon?” You whisper back and glance down at his lips then back up to his eyes. “Won’t you be in trouble?”

Coriolanus pressed another feathery kiss to your lips before standing and rolling his shoulders back. “I won’t be.”

You watched him begin to leave before you quickly ran over to him and grabbed his hand, smiling brightly at him and earning a curious look back. “When you get back, I have a surprise for you! I think you’ll like it considering everything you’ve told me before.”

He raised his brows and shook his head, kissing your forehead. “Can’t wait to see it, darling.”

But he never did come back. He left for the Capitol that night and you were left heartbroken and pregnant.

Over the years, Coriolanus’ power grew. He was a politician everyone feared and soon the President everyone feared. The Hunger Games soon became more and more ruthless, the humanity taken away faster than ever.

Although he grew in power and wealth, he lacked the empathy and emotion. All he felt was the need to be the best and be better than ever before. By the 28th Annual Hunger Games, he felt no remorse from anyone in the Districts. He wanted to forget the girl’s face he fell in love with all those years ago.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…”

As the crowd hushed to hear the news, Coriolanus scanned the crowd for a familiar face even if he didn’t want to. When the announcer finally pulled the ticket out of the glass ball, Coriolanus stood faster for the person than he had ever done in years.

“Rose Alarie!” The announcer smiled into the microphone as the eighteen year old girl made her way to the front.

When her image flashed across the screen, Coriolanus knew exactly who her mother was. Rose was a spitting image of you. From the eyes to the nose. The only difference was the hair color. Yes, it was your hair, but the entire front of her hair was platinum blonde.

“Get that girl in the Capitol now.” Coriolanus looked over to his council and paused the television, staring at the eyes that haunt him in his dreams. “And get me her family history.”

“Me? Here? But this isn’t where the tributes go. My counter part—“ She was struggling to understand why she was being sent to the President’s quarters. She looked around the expensive material she would have never seen until now, eyes and mind memorizing every way to escape if everything went to shit.

“The President has some questions for you. He’s… Intrigued with you.” His advisor spoke with distaste and opened the office door, guiding her to step inside before shutting the door tightly behind her.

Her shaking hands reached up to play with her father’s military tags as she saw the President himself stand only a few feet away from her. She felt for the name her mother scratched out, only leaving the identification number on it. Rose had memorized it long ago.

5263099.

She still wondered why Snow wanted to see her. She was probably the least interesting tribute out of all the others. There were some who seemed incredibly gifted, and Rose only knew the music her mother introduced to her. Maybe because her mother was once in the games, but that was years ago. The footage was erased and her name was long gone from everyone’s memory.

“Rose Alarie.” Coriolanus spoke, sending shivers down Rose’s back. He shifted around and glanced at her, messing with files in his hands. “Do you know why I called you here?”

She shook her head but caught herself, averting his icy gaze, although the shine from the window was glaring through. “Uh, no, sir.”

He raised his brows at her mannerisms and noticed her fidgeting, knowing all too well who she got that from. Coriolanus slowly approached Rose and only stopped when she took a small step back in defense. Now that he was closer, he could see more features that resembled her mother and her… Father.

“What are you playing with?”

Rose felt her face shift to shock before schooling it, handing him the military tags her father once wore. “They’re my father’s, sir. My mother gave it to me when I turned ten. She said my father gave it to her when he was still around.”

Coriolanus held the silver chain to his eyes, reading the familiar numbers that once haunted him eighteen years ago. “And your mother? Where is she?”

“Dead, sir.” She murmured as he clutched the tags in his hands tightly. Thinking that he was going to break it, she quickly spoke again. “She died a year ago… The tags are uhm,” Coriolanus’ azure eyes met her eyes, making her eyes widen in fear before she cleared her throat and finished her sentence. “My mother scratched them out so the name is gone. I never met my father.”

He hummed and tossed a manila envelope to her, watching confusion make its way onto her face. “I had the officials search everyone’s family history and it seems like your father isn’t in the data base at all.”

Silence took over the room as Rose flipped through the many faces and names of her relatives, stopping at her smiling mother. She swallowed a lump in her throat before shutting the folder, looking up at him.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“You know,” Coriolanus moved to sit in his office chair and spun to look outside the garden full of beautiful roses that his grandma’am loved so much. “I knew your mother. Quite well actually.”

Rose stepped closer to him, “You did?”

He nodded and waved a hand in the hair, the sun catching his silver ring he wore on his left hand. “I mentored her in the Hunger Games. She was quite a talent and beauty.” Coriolanus clenched his fist around the metal tags before breathing. “She had the wits. It’s how she won her game. Sadly, we had to erase that from Panem’s history.”

She took another step closer and tilted her head to look at his expression, noticing the longing look in his eyes. She was still quite perplexed by everything. After all, Rose’s mother never mentioned her mentor being the President of Panem.

“Your mother was Y/N Alarie, yes?” He cleared his throat and looked at Rose with recognition. Coriolanus felt his heart pound when she nodded and messed with her clothing. “She was kind to the other tributes and myself… She was always very sweet.”

He paused and handed Rose the military tags back. He caught the small smile tugging on her lips at her mother’s praise as she slipped the dog tags back on. Immediately, her fidgeting habit was back, her thumb following the indents in the tag. But before Coriolanus could comment on it and finish his small speech about her mother, his advisor walked in to collect her.

“Sir, we’re here for the girl. Ten minutes is up.”

“Leave her be. She won’t be competing in the games anymore.” Coriolanus barely looked over to his advisor, not caring for him or anything he had to say. Really, he just wanted to spend time with Rose. And his surprise was coming up anyway.

“But—“

Coriolanus put a hand up and immediately shut him up, glaring at the man with annoyance. “Pick another tribute or find a deadbeat from the streets, I don’t care. But leave this one here.”

His advisor raised his brows in surprise and left, leaving the pair alone once more. The silence continued, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air. The sun began to hide behind a cloud of white as Coriolanus huffed and spun his ring around his finger, jaw ticking in thought.

“What do you want from me?” She whispered after he left, eyes dropping to the information on his computer screen. She felt ice pierce her veins as she read the contents, meeting his eyes again. “You’re my father.”

“I won’t have my daughter be in the games like an animal.” Coriolanus stood from his chair and grabbed his coat, beckoning her to follow. He handed her an extra coat, sending Rose a small smile. “Your mother would have talked my ear off if you did.”

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slut-for-slutty-fictional-men · 3 days ago

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Pole Position

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Journalist!Reader Genre: Enemies-to-Lovers, Flirty Banter, Tension → Explicit Summary: You're a sports journalist known for your sharp questions and no-nonsense energy. Charles is famously charming but not used to being flustered—until he meets you. Interviews become a game of flirty deflections and increasingly inappropriate tension. Word Count: 925 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, power-play dynamic, dirty talk, strong language, consensual manhandling, one (1) cocky Monegasque driver getting emotionally wrecked by a journalist

Masterlist

Charles Leclerc made a career out of staying calm under pressure.

Which is why it drove him insane that you, of all people, could fluster him with a single look.

You were new to the grid this season — a sports journalist with a sharp tongue and zero patience for PR fluff. Within a month, you'd become known for calling out bullshit mid-interview, dragging drivers with surgical precision, and, most dangerously of all, not falling for Charles’s charm.

Not even once.

And he’d definitely tried.

Melbourne, Race 1

You leaned forward during the media scrum, recorder out, voice cool.

“Charles, any regrets about that overtake attempt on Lap 19, or did you just fancy a little lawn mowing?”

The other journalists chuckled.

Charles blinked. Then grinned slowly.

“Are you always this mean,” he asked, “or is it just when I’m sweaty and out of breath?”

You didn’t smile. “Let me know when you're ever not those things.”

He coughed — actually coughed — and the clip went viral by sunset.

Baku, Race 4

“Nice save in Turn 3,” you said, cornering him in the paddock afterward.

“Thank you.”

“Shame about the rest of the lap.”

He exhaled, smirking. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you wear that same shade of lipstick every race weekend, and it makes it very hard to focus on your questions.”

You blinked once. “Try focusing on your braking instead.”

He burst out laughing — and still didn’t stop staring at your mouth.

Barcelona, Race 7

He found you alone by the coffee cart, scrolling on your phone.

“You’re obsessed with me,” he said, unprompted.

You didn’t look up. “I’m obsessed with data. You just happen to be a cautionary tale.”

He stepped closer.

“You know,” he said, voice soft, “you’d be a lot less stressed if you let me take you out.”

You finally looked up, slow and deliberate.

“And you’d be a lot faster if you stopped thinking with your dick.”

His jaw dropped.

You walked off with your coffee, sipping like you hadn’t just ended a man.

Silverstone, Race 10

The tension finally snapped.

It started like always — a simple post-quali interview, you cornering him after a P2 result, microphone in hand, your smirk just this side of cruel.

“You were a tenth off pole,” you said. “Heartbreaking.”

He gave you a look. “I’m still on the front row.”

“But not the front front,” you teased. “Max beat you. Again.”

Charles smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Careful,” he murmured. “Keep poking me like that and I’ll bite.”

You leaned in, dangerously close. “I dare you.”

Something shifted in his face — a flicker of hunger, of impatience finally boiling over. The look he gave you wasn’t flirty. It was a warning.

“You want me to lose control,” he said, low and private.

You smiled. “I want you to admit you’ve already lost it.”

And just like that, the game was over.

Ferrari Motorhome — 6 Minutes Later

The second the door clicked shut behind you, his hands were on you.

No more banter. No more teasing. Just heat.

Your back hit the wall, hard, and his mouth was on yours in the next breath — hot, demanding, all tongue and frustration and finally.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growled, voice muffled against your neck as his hands dragged your shirt up. “Every time you open your mouth—”

“Then shut me up.”

He did.

His lips were everywhere — jaw, collarbone, down your chest — his hands rough, greedy, like he was trying to prove something.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed, sliding a hand between your legs, teasing over your clothes.

“I want this,” you said, breathless. “I want you.”

“Fuck.”

He lifted you like you weighed nothing, setting you on the low desk behind him. Papers scattered. His fingers were already pushing your underwear aside.

“This what you wanted?” he rasped, eyes dark as sin. “When you taunt me on camera? When you make me think about fucking you right there in the paddock?”

You gasped when his fingers slipped in — slow and deep.

“Say it.”

You whimpered, legs spreading wider. “I wanted it.”

“More than pole?”

“More,” you choked. “More than pole. More than anything.”

That broke him.

He kissed you like he was devouring you — mouth hot and slick, grinding his hips against yours like he couldn’t wait another second.

“Condom,” he muttered, breath ragged. You fumbled to find your bag—he found it first.

And then he was back — rolling it on, lining up, eyes locked on yours.

“You still want me to shut you up?”

“Yes.”

He thrust in one smooth, hard motion and you saw stars.

No teasing now. No performance. Just pure, blistering want.

He held your hips like a man starved, fucking you into the desk hard enough to shake it, your moans swallowed by his mouth, your name muttered like a prayer against your skin.

“Can’t believe you made me wait,” he growled.

“You deserved it.”

“You’re evil.”

“And you love it.”

He groaned — a desperate, broken sound — and came seconds later, hips stuttering, jaw clenched against your neck. You followed with a cry, nails digging into his back, everything going white-hot before it dissolved into aftershocks.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #f1 #f1 smut #f1 x reader #enemies to lovers #ferrari

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iasmelaion · 5 months ago

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I have been afflicted with a terrible curse: tearing through a book series, and upon finishing, seeking out the fandom only to find that most of that fandom appears to be reading an entirely different series than I am, lol. I brought this on myself, to be clear. I think a big part of the mismatch is that it's a genre I'm not that familiar with and that I don't care about/for in and of itself, so I'm coming at it from a different perspective. Also, maybe I'm reading into things too much! But what can I say, a girl needs enrichment in her enclosure, and there's enough meat on this bone that I will be occupied for a while.

All of which is to say, I read through all seven books of the Dungeon Crawler Carl series that are out to date (thanks, free Kindle Unlimited subscription!), and now I have a lot of thoughts and no one who cares about them ;____; I played myself ;_______;

This series is such a hard sell in general, because on the surface it looks like male power fantasy garbage, it's litRPG, and there's a decent amount of mildly obnoxious dude humor at first. But a) it's only slightly male power fantasy garbage, b) it's not tedious litRPG and in fact the genre evolves and shifts into more straightforward SFF the further in you get, which is clever on a meta level and also a relief, c) to the extent it is litRPG, it mostly isn't boring and annoying about it (no stat nonsense for the sake of stat nonsense), d) the mildly obnoxious dude humor is often genuinely funny and to the extent it is obnoxious, there's some in-universe reasoning for that.

Anyway, the premise is as follows: Earth is suddenly and devastatingly mined for its natural resources by aliens. This results in the death of billions: everyone who was indoors is instantly killed. Anyone who was outside gets a chance to enter the "dungeon", which offers a chance for the remaining humans to compete for an alleged chance at freedom and sovereignty if they reach the bottom floor, but it's basically The Hunger Games: a propaganda exercise that's meant to earn money for the aliens running it as a game show, only this is a dungeon crawling RPG rather than a Hunger Games/Battle Royale situation. No one has ever reached the bottom floor. The best result most achieve is to reach the tenth floor, where they can take a deal for some variety of indentured servitude.

Enter Carl, our hero, a former (late 20s? early 30s? don't recall his age, but somewhere around there) Coast Guard technician who is outside when it all happens because he chased after his ex-girlfriend's cat, Princess Donut, a best in show tortie Persian cat. Carl and Donut enter the dungeon, Donut eats a magic treat and becomes a sapient talking cat, and the books follow their struggle to survive and fight back against the cruel and inhuman system they've found themselves in.

Tonally, the series is interesting in that it manages to balance a very bleak, dystopian premise with genuine hilarity and moments of legitimately heart-wrenching emotion. Also, this is not a "lone heroic super cool guy saves and fixes everything" kind of story. This series is interested in teamwork and community in dire circumstances, and the found family of it all is genuinely moving. As a whole, it's just bonkers entertaining. I love when I can tell the author is having a blast, and you can absolutely tell that Matt Dinniman is having an absolute blast.

Anyway, a list of things I enjoy about this series and/or a list of general thoughts, some of which include mild spoilers:

PRINCESS DONUT. i love her. this cat is amazing and hilarious. She's exactly like you'd imagine a prize-winning Persian cat named Princess Donut to be. also, to my delight, she gets to be a fully rounded character. like yes, she's hilarious and often comic relief, but she's also taken seriously, and Carl is absolutely Insane about this cat. He fuckin' loves this cat, and the cat loves him. Also, hilariously, she has higher stats than Carl at the beginning. (In fact, she mostly has higher stats than him throughout, so she's technically the party leader. Which is why their party is called the Royal Court of Princess Donut.)

Donut has A+++++ insulting skills. On multiple occasions, I have lol'd in horror and delight at her savagery. A favorite:

Rezan: Why does that cat always type in all caps?

Donut: WHY DIDN’T YOUR MOTHER DRIBBLE YOU BACK OUT ONTO THE TRUCK STOP BATHROOM FLOOR, REZAN?

lest this give you the wrong impression, Donut is a classy lady. She is a princess, after all. but also she is savage.

Carl! The books are mostly in first person POV, so we're in Carl's head for most of them, and he is a great example of an unreliable narrator. He'll seem fairly generic at first, but stick it out through, like, the first third of the first book and onward for the slow and steady reveal of his Tragic Backstory and also such exciting psychological and emotional issues as: Insane about Donut; claims he "doesn't like drama" while in actuality he is clearly Repressing Everything; secretly an idealist who wants to believe the best of people; deeply committed to protecting people; full of revolutionary, anti-capitalist, anti-authoritarian rage; holy abandonment issues batman; simply Does Not See It when various ladies basically throw themselves at him; generally Barely Holding It Together at all times.

people on reddit, mostly: Carl's stats!! blah blah blah power stuff. me: okay, but why is Carl Like This. let's deep discuss that. Also let Carl have a little breakdown. As a treat.

these books are so wildly, delightfully anti-capitalist, lol. I poked around Reddit and tumblr a bit, but didn't see anyone discussing this series' politics, but that aspect is super interesting to me. The series is very, very concerned with revolution and resistance and the form those things take when very few options are available to the oppressed, plus the ethics of revolutionary violence.

The dungeon AI! This thing is Way Too Online in a gross dudebro way, but frankly, it's still funny with it, and the evolution of the AI's character is fascinating. Also, I regret to inform you that I do find it extremely fucking funny that the AI has a thing for Carl and his feet. This is wholly hypocritical of me: if Carl was Carla, and the AI made the same comments, I'd have bounced. But what can I say, comedy is about subversion, I guess.

PREPOTENTE. MY PRECIOUS WEIRDO GOATMAN CHILD. Prepotente was a goat; upon entry into the dungeon and eating a magic pet treat, he becomes a goat man type thing, and he spends much of the series as one of the most dangerous and skilled dungeon crawlers, along with his "mother", the shepherdess Miriam Dom. he's a total fuckin weirdo who screams a lot for no reason and i love him. he better fucking survive the series, i swear to god.

one running theme of the series that I love so much is that Carl does not give up on people, and he does not write them off. He often runs into fellow crawlers who, if he was being bloodlessly practical about things, he should have bailed on. They're people who aren't prepared, who haven't leveled up enough, who aren't likely to survive much longer. But he doesn't abandon them, and he doesn't assume they can't get better. He sticks with them and helps them, and they help him. It's about found family ;____; they all love each other so much ;______;

MORDECAI!!! he's a changeling skyfowl and the team's game guide and later manager, and is a former crawler who took a deal. This is supposed to be his last season in the crawl, before he's free of his indentured servitude. he is Dad Shaped. automatic dad. there is in fact something quietly devastating about his Dad Shapedness.

There's a whole super interesting thing going on with the dungeon NPCs, and how we start out assuming most of them aren't "real". unsurprising spoiler alert: they may have been created by/for the dungeon, but many of them are very much real, and once they realize the position they've been put into, they're pissed.

i truly have no real idea where the series is going with its running theme about parents and children, and the protection or lack thereof of children. Our most heroic characters are consistently shown protecting and caring for the NPC children, even when it's at great cost to themselves.

everything to do with the Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook, the secret book with writing from prior crawlers that Carl is given, makes me Emotional. I'm honestly shocked the whole Cookbook was never planned, and that it was a result of Patreon votes. It's hugely important in the seventh book, not so much on a plot level--I can see how Dinniman could have gotten to some of these same plot beats without it--but on an emotional and thematic one. There's something so affecting here about the continuity of resistance, of finding hope and strength in the people who came before you, of planting seeds you water with blood and that you may never get to harvest, and the sheer, furious love of the whole thing.

so apparently Dinniman is a pantser when it comes to writing. Clearly, he's having fun, and it's more or less working out so far, but it does make me concerned about his ability to stick the dismount. I saw in an AMA that he likened it to building a spaceship with legos versus building it with a plan, and that he has fun writing himself out of corners. That's all well and good, but some of the things I'm most interested in this series are the overarching themes, and it makes me wary of those themes not getting a proper payoff. I guess I should just enjoy the ride, and accept that there will almost certainly be many loose ends.

On a meta level, I find it very funny and ironic that when I took a look at the reviews for the seventh book, I saw some people complaining about the absence of the more "entertainment" and "game" aspects of the series: no interviews with the outside, no "character sheets" for Carl, fewer big fights for Carl himself to take on, the AI taking on a more active 'deus-ex AI' role. Because in-universe, the dungeon crawl is no longer entertainment. At this point, the crawl has become an actual war, and the game genre it takes on--4x strategy--reflects that. Carl and the crawlers' choices have increasing ramifications outside the crawl, where actual war is breaking out at least in part as a result of their actions. The AI intervening more and more often to put its finger on the scale is part of the conflict; it's fighting this war as much as the other characters are, if with still inscrutable motivations.

This is in fact one of the central conflicts of the series: to what extent is this still a game? Has it ever only been a game? The crawlers and NPCs are in fact fighting for it to not be a game: they're saying "my life is real, my suffering is real, and if you won't acknowledge that, then you're coming in here with us to fight and die too. Not just a game anymore, is it?" And on another side of the conflict, you have the AI insisting that this stay a game, something with rules and a narrative and at least an attempt at fairness, however much the AI manipulates those things.

It seems like there's something of a genre shift going on with this series. As a reader who's not particularly interested in or invested in litRPG in and of itself, I'm fine with it shifting to being more straightforwardly SFF, and in fact, I think that's an interesting and fun choice on a meta level: the more the crawlers and the AI break and change the game, the more the genre of the series itself shifts.

#dungeon crawler carl

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countdykulaa · 9 months ago

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﹟ ⠀ ⠀ 𝟎𝟎𝟏 ⠀ . ⠀ ⠀JUST A LITTLE BIT COLDER⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ obsessed! reader x dark! sevika ⠀ ❫

synopsis: despite all your efforts, you can't help the deep one-sided obsession you've gained with the dangerous criminal. you spend your days chiding yourself yet inevitably succumb to the temptation of contacting her when the desires becomes irresistible.

cw: dom!sevika, masturbation, pathetic and i mean p - a - t - h - e - t - i - c reader

the phone rang , echoing in the sterile confines of your apartment . you remain under your sheets , your nightdress raised until it comfortably lay on your stomach . you knew sevika was a busy person , always running around the city her family practically owned , but the femme always answered. it was as if she sensed the pathetic desperation you felt on the phone before even rising from her sheets in the morning.

"hello?" her voice was cold , a common fact that never seemed to steer you away.

the sound of your heart racing pounded through your ears. your chest rose as each tension soaked second passed. "hi, sevika."

a frustrated sigh crackled through the line . "you again? why don't you bother someone else ? im tired of this game."

your grip on the phone tightened as your hand moved dangerously low. "I just … I need to hear your voice."

It had started as mere curiosity, a perverse fascination with the woman responsible

for not only controlling the city you inhabited all your life but successfully evading law enforcement. she resided in the shadows , very few knowing where she was , but everyone knowing what she was capable of. you, being the homebody you were vagualy heard of her through word of mouth whenever your relatives came to visit. overexaggerated fables on all the unspeakable sins she'd committed spoken with a passion with each passing day. she was almost akin to the boogeyman in everyone's eyes. you thought it was ridiculous. one being have such power on peoples imagination. if the city you occupied wasn't fairly busy you'd chalk it up to be nothing but boredom that slithered its way into peoples lives and donned them the role of gossiper.

it's only on a random thursday that you decide to pay more attention to your aunts third rendition about the enigmatic woman instead of flipping through your book for the tenth time that evening. you blame her mesmerizing storytelling skills for the way it draws you in and hooks you. you count that mundane evening as the beginning of everything. she goes on and on about how sevika and her clan basically own the street wherein she lives , never heard or seen but always felt and a part of you slowly hungers for more information.

you spend your days , hunched over researching about her when you weren't at work , fantasizing about her. you obsess over her known locations , comings and goings and aliases shifting through any public records you could find on her. eventually you shifted from public records to gathering the information from means you never even dreamed of . your soul is not satisfied , demanding to know more and more about the woman until your social group dwindles to yourself and the chirping birds outside your windows. the continuous researching only fed your obsession with her until it grew a mouth of its own and ate away at the rest of you until your existence revolved around the beguiling image of her.

she embodied the epitome of your aspirations , a presence you yearned for earnestly . each time you closed your eyes , she materialized before you , only to linger in your consciousness upon each awakening . to say you yearned for her would be to say you yearned for oxygen. the boundary between your identity and hers blurred indistinguishably. it was only a matter of time before your obsessive desires overpowered your slipping sense of rationality.

evidently her number finds a home in your phone. obtained from a random employee of sevika's who owed you a favour. it had only taken you a few weeks of dedicated planning and nonstop delusions , but you had done it. you never plan on calling her, but the mere fact that a piece of her however minuscule it may be is in your possession makes you want to celebrate.

in the dimly lit living room , empty bottles and a half - filled wine glass clutter the coffee table . the faint hum of the tv provides a backdrop to your erratic thoughts . your thoughts , like always center on sevika. what she was doing , wearing , how she’d possibly react to you , a stranger being this pathetic over a mere idea of her . you doubt she has a kind bone in her body and yet that doesn’t stop your hand from finding its place under your sweats and black panties .

you don't do much more than tease yourself , softly dragging your fingers up and down your lips before finally settling on your clit . you're usually pretty dry at first but your ongoing thoughts and the liqour coursing through your frame gets you a little damp.

the alcohol has more control over your limbs than you'd like to admit as you turn your gaze to your phone . in your drunken lust-driven haze a desperate thought runs through your mind . you need to call sevika. just to hear her voice , fantasize about all she would say to you . why else would you acquire her number ?

your fingers trembling as you call her, unable to focus on anything else but the forbidden allure of her voice. you shouldn't be doing this. your thundering heart pounding against your chest like a wild symphony, each beat echoing the danger of your lust driven actions.

"hello?"

oh.

your imagination doesn't do her justice . you hear the raspiness of her voice and envision the meanness in her eyes as you gyrate your fingers on your clit. your head sways back , eyes fluttering . you can just imagine her now , back hunched over her desk , a pile of questionable documents looking as worn out and frustrated as ever .

"hello?" she responds , her tone taking an irritated note. "if this is one of those stupid fucking prank calls i swear to god - "

a high pitched moan slips from your lips before you can even think to contain it , effectively cutting her off . a silence looms over the both of you. you're sure you can imagine the surprise on her face. eyebrows raised, as sudden jolt runs through her body. you made her feel something.

"sorry , you have the wrong number - "

"no." you quickly correct her , breathing out a sigh of pleasure . "it's you sevika. im going to cum soon, please touch me there."

you hear her breath hitch, a second passes. two. your chest tightens in anticipation. three. a zapping thrum spreads through your legs. four. "what's your name ?"

you're silent , the only sound being your heavy breathing and the faint background of the tv . desperation sinks into your bones the longer you remain on the phone . "who is this?"

"doesn't matter im … im no one." you breath out , your legs instinctively shutting around your hand. your eyes flutter as you imagine that voice talking to you, the confusion in her tone replaced with a dark possessiveness, compelling you to go faster, harder. "i know what you've done … what you do. "

"and that excites you doesn't it?"

the silent yes is heard with the way your moans go up an octave. she goes quiet until the only sound heard is from your side and you fear she dropped the phone.

"se-sevika ? are you-"

"what are you doing right now?"

your movements stutter in slight surprise . "im…im fucking myself and pretending its you. your hand , your mouth , your frame , your … anything you'll give me." the words rush out of your mouth . she doesn't laugh at the desperation drenched in your words but you can feel the mocking tone her words take.

"are you close?"

"yes ... yes...yes." you whimper.

you can feel her hands roaming down your malleable flesh, searing her prints into your flesh until you twist and contort at her will. feel the weight of her breath with each stroke. there’s energy zapping through your form and you throw your head back. you want her. need her. exist for her.

the thought of her strong thighs clenched to aid the ache between her own thighs makes your chest heavier. what if that’s why she’s so quiet? the thought of you is almost half as tantalising as her. you’re in her mind like a parasite. sucking away everything that makes her complete until she is but a statue you can marvel.

“im coming. oh. oh im coming.” you stutter out. a silence lapses between you two. this one thicker than the last. your tongue lays heavy in your mouth, a certain fear overtaking the desire.

"don't ever fucking call this line again." she whispers , voice dark and full of danger in a way that makes your swollen clit pulsate and breath hitch before promptly hanging up.

PLUTOS THOUGHTS: this was longer and sloppier than usual but i hope its good !

TAGLIST: @cyb3rdino

#* ⠀ / ⠀ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ mine ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ sevika #─── ⠀ 🌺 ⠀ * ⠀ plutos works ⠀ !#sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika #arcane #sevika smut

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strangeshoepatrolbandit-alt · 1 year ago

Text

A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing.

Summary: He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. You're the sacrificial lamb. (What it was like.)

Warnings: Wolf and lamb imagery, mentions of sexual interactions, one of them being Non-Con... I think?("Making love", "fucking", "thrusting".), naivety, mentions of murder and blood, killing Lucy Gray Baird, being a Trophy wife, lies, mentions of breeding, being trapped in a marriage, getting hunted, guns, mentions The Hunger Games, mentions hanging(Sejanus' death), rebellion, being a shell of yourself, being tied up, getting rid of a body(Lucy Gray), toxic relationship, controlling!Coryo, Coriolanus' being 'bony'.

Fem!Reader.

I'm trying something new with my writing.

He lured you in.

He was one of the best Academy students and the only power he had was his name.

He spoke with you over open and discarded books, spewing with his charming words.

Sweet naive you.

He pressed soft kisses to your lips and thrusted in a pattern that made you see stars. Cosmic. Making love.

He was kind to your family, he was kind to your friends. He cared for you.

°•°•°

He was a mentor in the tenth Hunger Games, his tribute was Lucy Gray Baird. He helped her win, cheating for her from behind a screen while you supported him without knowing what he's done.

He was caught, and his punishment was becoming a Peacekeeper. Originally for District 8.

You threw a fit in his bedroom, crying and crying over again, begging the universe to not separate the two of you.

Dependent.

His hands held your face as he looked between both of your eyes, his own going back and forth. Left and right.

"No, you wont." He sounded so firm, but his voice still held the softness he could only have for you. "I'm going to 12. I will make sure to see through with it. You will go to 12."

And like a lamb led to the slaughter, you did.

°•°•°

You watched him beat a man, defending Lucy Gray like she was still his responsibility. You swam in the lake with him, holding onto him and laughing without a care in the world. You broke down with him after Sejanus' death. You stayed in the cabin with him and Lucy Gray.

The three of you planned a future that would get you all killed. You spoke the same words that had your dear friend, Sejanus, hung in front of a galore of witnesses.

Murdered.

Martyr.

You were oblivious to the way Coriolanus was cracking, something finally going off in his brain. He broke down.

He revealed what he's done. He told you both about Sejanus. He's why Sejanus Plinth, Bobbin, and Mayfair are dead.

Backstabber.

Murderer.

Lucy played it cool, keeping her calm as to not draw suspicion.

She grabbed your arm and a basket, making it seem innocent as she told him the two of you were going to pick katniss.

"Lucy Gray," He stared as she opened the door, a bright smile on her face as she gripped you tighter. "It's still raining."

"Well, we're not made out of sugar." And with that, she pulled you out. The two of you walked together until you were out of sight from the cabin windows.

And then you heard him.

Screaming, yelling, gunshots, running.

Cat and mouse.

Snake and bird.

Wolf and lamb.

Lucy Gray was dead beside you, and Coriolanus Snow was her killer. You were on the ground, your lover on top of you, tears spilling from your eyes as you stared at your lifeless friend. Coriolanus' hands dug into the plush of your body while he forced you to stand, holding your wrist with one hand while dragging Lucy with the other.

Back at the cabin, you were bound enough to where you couldn't run, but watching as Coriolanus wrapped up Lucy Gray's body and dumped her in the lake you all swam and laughed in just days before.

"No loose ends." He repeated to you as he forced you into the cabin, tying you to the bed the two of you slept on. "Besides you. But you won't tell anyone, will you?" He asked softly, wiping your tears and pushing back your hair.

You shook your head repeatedly, breathing heavily and staring at him with wide eyes.

"Good." He let out a breath as a smile grew on his face, now caressing one of your cheeks. "Good girl."

He leaned in and kissed you, ridding you of your clothes while you cried. He wasnt sweet. He didn't kiss the tears away, they just seemed to egg him on. This was not making love. He was fucking you while you were vulnerable.

You didn't get to leave Panem. You didn't get to run off and live a fairytale.

Coriolanus brought you back to the Capitol, solidifying you to him by announcing your engagement to him.

He didn't stop. Not even when he moved in with Sejanus' mourning parents, not even when he killed them.

Not even when he became the president, and you the First Lady.

You were both in your twenties, living better than you used to.

Coriolanus was no longer bony, no longer hungry. He no longer wore the clothes his cousin, Tigris, would make him. His hair was no longer buzzed like it was when he was a Peacekeeper, and his personality was different than when he was eighteen.

You're still intimate. You live, work, eat, sleep together. Your womb is warm for his seed. You're married by Panem and Capitol law. But you are not partners. He is the dictator. You're the trophy First Lady. You dress exactly as he likes. You act exactly as he likes. You move exactly as he likes. His word is law. Yours is nothing. And every moment you are his, you wonder what it would be like to not have to dance to his puppet strings.

He lured you in.

Sacrificial lamb.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #tbosbas #tbosas x reader #thg series #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader

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