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astroboots · 1 year

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Every You Every Me Issue #3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.

Word count: 5,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.

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You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.

Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer.

Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire.

As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.

You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?

Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.

Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.

Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.

Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood".

As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.

There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.

Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?

If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.

So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?

That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?

You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time.

Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book.

With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:

‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’

You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.

There's nothing else to do but to wait.

You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.

There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.

You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.

Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.

That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.

You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?

You did.

You're sure you did.

He must’ve been here.

Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.

Right?

Your eyes flicker back to the window.

Or maybe you did close the window?

You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?

It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...

You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.

Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?

You did.

Yes, you definitely did.

Which means, he was here... Right?

You feel like you are going insane.

Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?

You decide on a redo.

Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.

A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies.

You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.

As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.

The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman.

Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.

This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter.

If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it.

This note didn’t work.

It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry…

You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you!

The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook.

That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot.

You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!

$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you.

How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.

Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.

On the left side this time, you note.

It doesn’t look like he came.

The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.

Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.

There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.

The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.

He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.

You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.

On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.

YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!

You were right.

Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.

He was here!

(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).

You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen.

There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.

In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.

He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video!

On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.

His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.

Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?

You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews.

He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had.

Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression.

He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.

It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!

The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.

Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.

To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.

Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.

He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.

Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.

You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.

Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.

The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.

You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.

Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.

But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around.

The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.

As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go.

So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).

Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly.

There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.

He does however eat three of your cookies this time.

You get a little bit more desperate after that.

You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.

The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.

It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.

The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through.

More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.

But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.

You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow.

The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.

In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.

By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.

There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.

Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.

Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.

Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).

His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.

Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill.

He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now.

Oh, he's worried.

He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek?

The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.

The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why.

He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen.

You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.

He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness.

It leaves you with more questions than ever.

Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.

You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.

You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.

Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.

Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.

With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.

Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.

Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.

You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.

What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?

That's crazy!

…Right?

But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.

Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.

You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it.

A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.

There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast.

A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth.

"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do.

You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.

Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.

When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.

Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.

From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail.

But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest.

You want to see him again.

It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.

The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.

It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.

Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)

The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people.

Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.

It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.

The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.

Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail.

Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.

It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.

After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.

As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.

Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.

That would be a real dick move.

You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.

Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.

Then you stay there.

One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by.

Five. Six. Seven.

A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.

Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.

If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.

You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.

Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"

You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.

There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.

He’s calling your name.

The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.

Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.

Again.

Fuck!

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 months

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Hi, I'm quite new to writing and would like to start writing fanfiction as practice, but I find it hard to keep my writing in character. Do you have any recommendations for that? I've tried keeping like notes of how they act, but I'm unable to keep track of them.

Fan-Fiction: Keeping Canon Characters in Character

If you're struggling to keep a canon character in character, it's very likely you're just not familiar enough with the character to write them yet. This can be remedied easily by consuming the canon material--particularly when the character in question is heavily featured--and, if it's a TV, movie, or video game character, you can look for character tribute videos on YouTube, which often highlight the key elements of the character.

Other things you can do: make sure you know their backstory and understand how it influences who they are and how they behave, make sure you're familiar with their "voice," or in other words how their personality comes out in the things they say and think. Make sure you know their strengths and flaws and highlight them accordingly. Keep in mind what motivates the character and what life goals they're striving toward, as these often affect character behavior.

Some exercises you can do: find an "about me" questionnaire and fill it out as if you were the character. Try doing a little role playing and answer the questionnaire questions out loud as though you were being interviewed. Write a detailed analysis of the character as though you were analyzing them as someone potentially thinking of hiring them for an important job. Look at a favorite moment from canon involving the character, then write it in first-person POV from the character's POV. What do they think about the moment? What do they feel in the moment? What internal emotional cues do they feel? Alternatively, try writing a few diary entries from their perspective, detailing canon events, or expanding on moments that aren't canon but could be.

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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kitscutie · 10 months

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snow and roses: part III (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none except the nature of the Hunger Games franchise! later on in the series there will be hints to dark!coriolanus snow and lots of angst so be prepared!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: part three is finally hereee! sorry it took so long i've been dealing with some shit and doing a lot of work as life's just gotten very busy but don't worry - nothing will be left undone and trust me when i say i already have the ending for this series planned out :)

im sorry to say guys but i will have to close my taglist as the size has began to affect my posts and tumblr keeps glitching out, sorry!

word count:2k

find parts one and two in my masterlist!

After the incident the previous day between Brandy and Arachne as well as the suggestions from Coriolanus taken on board, the mentors had been allowed one hour with their tributes to discuss tactics.

It was good yet bad all at once. You wanted to give Wovey advice, a fighting chance but yet you knew no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much help you gave her, she stood no chance compared to people like Reaper and even Lucy Gray.

She was small and innocent, young.

"In spite of yesterdays - tragic events, our president has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror, to which I and Doctor Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon - with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a specialised television presentation of each tribute to our audience to, well get to know them. You will have an hour to discuss strategy. You may begin." Dean Casca Highbottom spoke into the echoey room, so large it was almost comical.

All of the tributes had been chained to the tables like animals and it made you sick to your stomach. You were aware they may harm you but at the same time such treatment would drive anyone to violence, it wasn't simply because they were District.

"Hi Y/N." Wovey smiled, so innocent. So naive.

"Wovey. I was thinking about how you might approach the games and I figured what might be best is to hide. You're small, an advantage that the other tributes don't have. I'm sure we can find some spaces this afternoon that might prove useful?" You suggested, not wishing to make this conversation more painful and personal than it had to be.

"Sure." She murmured, gaze positioned on the chains around her wrists.

"And if you wait until it's dark and everyone is sleeping you could go to the middle - collect whatever weapons they have left, just in case but otherwise I recommend waiting it out. If they can't find you they can't kill you." The sentence left a bitter taste in your mouth, you had never pictured yourself recommending a child to wait her death out in your life. The Capitol Academy was sold to you with visions of wealth and power, and now you has gone from student to mentor.

"I don't want to kill anyone." She frowned. She didn't even care that she could die, only fearing harming others. You felt your heart ache and yet, you could do nothing. No words would be good enough to reassure her, no actions would be able to save her. For once, you were useless.

"Wovey-" You began your sympathetic speech though Casca cut you off.

"Snow, Y/N. Let's go." He said as peacekeepers arrived to escort you to Doctor Gaul.

You rose without another word to Wovey, aware nothing you could say would be of any help at this time.

You knew it was about Coryo's proposal which you had not helped in and yet you weren't too upset about it. You didn't need the Plinth Prize nor did you need Doctor Gauls' approval and so you set out to let her know of your lack of involvement in this task.

"How is your tribute?" Coriolanus asked after minutes of silence.

"Her name is Wovey and she's fine. A little frightened but aren't we all?" You said, you were hesitant to tell him too much of Wovey's weaknesses and you didn't know why. This was Coriolanus. Your best friend of over ten years and your boyfriend of a few months and yet, you had a feeling whatever you said would be used against you.

"I suppose." He answered. You supposed his tone was meant to come off charmingly but all you felt was unease.

"This proposal. I haven't done it." You let him know, it was the least you could do before facing the psychopath known as Head Gamemaker.

"We have. I handed it in this morning." He answered with a hint of pride. Impressed with himself that he had taken initiative, helped you.

"I thought I made it clear the other day that I wanted no part in this plan to profit off of peoples lives, Coriolanus." You muttered, increasingly angry with his dedication to the Games and what they stood for.

"Well if you want to help Wovey, I suggest you don't tell Doctor Gaul that." He smiled, holding the door to her office open for you in a feign attempt at being a gentlemen.

As you walked into her office you couldn't help but feel disgusted. It was littered with mutants, clearly created to kill, all sat in glass jars on shelf upon shelf. Stacked all the way up to the ceiling.

"Mr Snow, Miss L/N. Come and see my new babies." Gaul said as she appeared at the back of the room. Where she had been hidden, you had no clue.

You did as she said, never one to disobey your superiors, climbing the snake tank alongside her.

"Is there a point to their colour?" You asked curiously. The snakes were surprisingly beautiful, chromatic as they shifted around on top of one another.

"There's a point to everything Miss L/N. Or to nothing at all, which brings me neatly to your proposal. Which one of you actually wrote it." She asked, as if to catch you out but you felt no remorse in admitting it wasn't you.

"Coriolanus, Doctor." You answer, sensing Coriolanus' hesitation in baiting you out.

"Well, how shocking. I expected more of a conflict." She replied, as though she were annoyed by your honesty as she reached into the snake tank, pulling Coriolanus' proposal out. "They're good your suggestions. I'm going to recommend my team implement as many as possible for tomorrow. Now run along you have an arena to promote, and Miss L/N I must say - I am most disappointed by your lack of involvement in these brilliant ideas."

"Well thank you, Doctor Gaul for your offer but, I thought Mr Snow had it safely under his control." You smiled politely before you both left to 'promote' but more so survey the new arena. "Wait." You said stopping Coriolanus before you got into the truck. "I don't know what has become of you Coriolanus Snow, but I want the little boy who fought to provide for his family while also caring for others back. You are turning into one of them, and I'm not going to be there to watch the world burn beneath your feet." You spat, leaving him to think as you sat in silence for the rest of the journey.

It seemed Coriolanus felt spiteful towards your words as he too ignored you up until this very moment as you walked into the arena.

You smiled reassuringly down at Wovey who looked just so scared. You were only three years older than her and yet you felt a motherly protection towards her, one you couldn't shake off.

Infront of you was Coryo and Lucy Gray. At first you pitied the girl, coming from twelve must be hard as they were food deprived and worked to the bone and yet now, as she stood holding your boyfriends hand in her beautiful rainbow dress, you loathed everything about her.

Your eyes rolled as far back as they physically could, your disgust clear to anyone looking but only one person was. Sejanus. He looked at you with pity and for once, you appreciated it. You decided he must know about you and Coriolanus and seeing as nobody else did they all whispered about him and Lucy Gray, how sweet they seemed.

You walked around alone before he appeared at your side.

"You deserve better, Y/N." Sejanus said, eyes never meeting your own as you continued to survey the arena, never even noticing his eyes stuck on his watch.

"Debatable." You chuckled, feeling a sense of self responsibility for getting with a man as dangerous as Coriolanus Snow in the first place.

"I wouldn't worry. If there's anything I've learnt about Coryo it's that he likes shiny things, new things - and she's definitely a spectacle." he chuckled to himself, it was safe to say Lucy Gray's ability to impress a crowd hadn't been missed by anyone.

"He'll grow tired eventually. I was his precious rose once." You sighed as the reality of the situation finally settled in.

You soaked in the silence for a few moments before you realised Sejanus' lack of response, turning in annoyance to see his eyes following the hand of his watch clock closely as he mouthed a countdown of the minutes.

"What are you-" You began.

"We've got to go." He said, grabbing your arm and beginning to walk towards the exit cautiously, not catching the attention of any guards.

"What do you mean? Sejanus?" You asked as he would not slow, not for anything. You looked around, seeing everyone else still stood stationary as they calmly conversed.

"Just follow me, Y/N." He said, still attempting to stay calm but you noticed his wide eyes.

You walked in silence, your heartbeat getting louder in your ear with each step until you hearing went completely silent, vision going black as both you and Sejanus were thrown to the floor in a cloud of smoke.

It took a few moments for you to be brought back to reality as you sat up, dazed hearing the yells of people around you. Once again before you could even figure out what was happening Sejanus' grabbed you, pulling you to your feet as you ran out of the door. 'Enjoy the show' now sounding muffled.

"What about Coryo?" You cried out in desperation, no matter what he put you through he was your first love and you had always pictured him to be your last.

"If we go back now, Y/N, we'll die." Sejanus replied as he continued dragging you until you reached the fresh air outside. Your charred lungs welcoming it.

As you looked back through the doorway you saw nothing, no one. Simply black smoke. You felt guilty and yet still - deep down - your heart yearned for the death of Lucy Gray.

It had been five hours now, sat around Coriolanus' bed alongside Sejanus and Tigris.

He hadn't so much as twitched and it had your heart racing with panic, if he died, you knew a part of you died with him.

Tigris comforted you as best she could in her own worry, noting how his chest continued to move up and down steadily and that the doctor only mentioned an injured arm, not that he was at risk of death.

The appearance of bright blue eyes caught everyone's attention as you rushed to be by his bed.

"Coryo." You said, a large smile on your face. You watched as his eyes flickered around in confusion, landing on you for a few moments. You don't know what you expected, a look of love? What you most definitely didn't expect was one of disgust.

"Lucy Gray, is she-" He stated, looking to Tigris for an answer.

"She's alive." Tigris responded through gritted teeth as she looked to you with sympathetic eyes. Her reply was lost to you as the ringing in your ears after the explosion returned. Your heart beating loud in your chest. You placed a hand over it, feeling it pound against your palm.

Your eyes glazed over as you walked away into a secluded corner, waving Sejanus off as he attempted to follow you.

It felt now more than ever so official, so real without a doubt. You had lost Coriolanus Snow. He no longer loved you, cared for you or even worried for you.

The cage that was his heart had opened wide, setting you free and instead capturing something new and desirable. A songbird.

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#coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger game fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg fic #thg fanfiction

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mostly-mundane-atla · 1 year

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Things Inupiaq culture doesn't traditionally have:

Kings/royalty (requiring tribute from the people you lead is seen as tyranical and tyrants are killed when possible)

A cash economy (dentallium shells were valued by many other cultures and sometimes were used as money in international trade, but not among fellow Inupiat)

Agriculture (we are traditionally a hunter-gatherer people seasonally following the herds, fish, and ripening greens and berries)

Corporal punishment (you aren't even supposed to yell at people or even scold children)

Slavery (you could argue this one since women were sometimes captured and taken as wives; but this is typically regarded as an ancient and morally questionable practice. The Inupiat didn't believe in owning people or their labor, only at best associating through marriage, blood relation, or wife-exchange)

Primogeniture as a hard-fast rule (Inupiat culture was traditionally patriarchal so a son may inherit his father's status as a family patriarch if he is already a father at this time, but material inheritence was not guaranteed to work that way)

A written language (historians were assigned to memorize records, family trees, and the like)

Human or animal sacrifices (would be considered cruel and wasteful)

Formal vs informal language (socio-economic class is mutable and does not affect language)

Gendered pronouns (our language uses pronouns to indicate tone of a sentence the way many languages use pronunciation, as well as relationship between subject and object in complex sentences and in all cases whether the subject is singular, dual, or plural and if the sentence is in first, second, or third person. An absolute fuckton of pronouns and none of them are gendered)

Raw meat taboo (except in the case of pregnancy; the arctic climate means the weather was not too far off from refrigerator or freezer temperatures, if not colder, and underground storage was often placed around frozen methane deposits known as permafrost)

Dog meat taboo (dogs were helpful as beasts of burden or sometimes hunting companions but when there's a famine you gotta eat what you can)

Many ceremonies taken for granted (for example, if a man and woman mutually agreed they were married, that was the only wedding required. We had big celebrations for survival, and women got incredible face tattoos for coming of age, but many lifestages were celebrated more low-key with little pomp and circumstance)

Shirts (you didn't wear anything underneath your atigi, and if it was too warm for it, you took it off. Yes, even women. Presbyterian missionaries thought we were godless sluts for our tits out ways)

Virginity marriage requirement (it was best if a woman hadn't had sex before but only because we lived in small communities and you have to keep track of bloodlines. Having sex didn't make girls unclean or impure and unwed mothers were taken care of by their families and weren't stigmatized)

Required monogomy (men could have multiple wives and women could have multiple husbands, wife exchange was a means of fostering allegiance, and the main problem with cheating is that it involved lying and prioritizing pleasure over duties like making sure your husband doesn't fall to his death while hunting. In stories about cheating and revenge, the cheater and retaliating jealous partner are both depicted as in the wrong)

There are more, but these i feel provide a pretty good basic idea of the culture. You can use these bits of info as Water Tribe worldbuilding inspo if you want, but i won't pester you into it. I just think my culture is neat and wanted to share ^-^

#eskimo on main #might talk about captured wives one of these days because that concept always facinated me

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lindszeppelin · 2 years

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Hot, Sweet, and Sticky

Pairing: Austin Butler x Fem!Reader

Prompt: You're in the kitchen baking some desert, and Austin takes this as the perfect opportunity to show just how much he appreciates you

Rating: Mature. 18+

Warnings: housewife kink, oral (f. receiving), p in v sex, playing with food during sex, swearing, a bit of fluff of course, creampie, light choking

Word Count: 5.8k

a/n: not much needs to be said aside from this needed to be written, and i volunteered as tribute to do it. :) (this was KINDA inspired by Cherry Pie by the band Warrant.)

Okay, this sounds easy enough. Bake at 400 for 45 minutes. Then leave to cool for 1 hour before serving. What's so hard about that?

Baking a pie seemed a little advantageous of you, especially since your culinary skills still require you to use meticulously detailed recipes to follow along with, but you were in the mood to try something new. It never scared you to back away from a good challenge.

Austin has been working so hard lately, and being the new starlet that everyone wants to get a piece of has left his energy reserves depleted. He doesn't mind saying hello to excited fans, and doing interviews on national television when required, but he'd much rather spend a quiet evening in with his girl where he doesn't have to be "on" for the public.

Seeing as it was raining cats and dogs outside, you figured what a better way to spend the afternoon than by surprising your man by making him something special. To get yourself in the mood you put on some of your favorite music. As you pull out all the necessary ingredients for this cherry pie you're attempting to bake, you let your hips swing side to side to the beat.

The butterflies in your stomach are trying to flee, but you don't allow them to overpower you. While you've never attempted to bake an entirely homemade pie before, you're confident in your skills. Once you've acquired all of the essentials and gathered them up in a haphazard pile on the granite island in the middle of your kitchen, you know you're ready to start.

Wait, I forgot something!

You snap your fingers at the realization that you aren't in the right attire to be baking. While you try to pretend that you're a culinary professional who doesn't messy up the counters and herself, you know that's not true. Knowing you, you'd probably spill cherry juice or get flour all over yourself in no time.

You scurry on over to the kitchen sink and bend forward to open the cabinets down below, pulling out a neatly folded red and white checkered apron. It was something that Austin had bought for you a long time ago when you first moved in with him. He's seen you in all your glory plenty of times before, flinging bits of food everywhere as you excitedly get into the groove of cooking. He decided it would be a practical gift. But also, it would give him an eyeful seeing you wear this, as it barely could pass as a proper apron.

It was so short it didn't even cover your front much at all. It had a cute ruffled edge along the bottom, and it had straps that hung off your shoulders. He definitely knew all too well what he was doing when he bought this little number. It revealed all the right bits of you but still kept enough to the imagination.

It was bound to look like a murder scene in the kitchen today, what with having cherries involved, so you unfolded the apron and threw it over your two piece lounge set. You certainly didn't want to dirty it, as it was yours and Austin's favorite - which was a simple white outfit with an off the shoulder crop top and matching white sleep shorts that barely covered anything. With the vintage apron now wrapped around you and tied at the back in a secure bow, you looked like something out of a 1950s pinup magazine. And you felt confident as hell in it.

One final step you always do when cooking or baking is tying up your hair in a messy bun. You decide to let your bangs softly cascade over your face, and you put your glasses on so you can read the recipe. Now that those formalities were out of the way, it was finally time to start making this damn pie before you chicken out.

You weren't keeping track of time so you weren't sure how long you'd been working on bringing this culinary masterpiece together. But you were already finished with the main star of this baking endeavor. The macerated cherries and sugar mixture were cooling in a bowl next to the pre-greased baking pan. The hardest part is still to come, making the lattice crust for the top.

The dough was on the floured granite countertop, and you were kneading away without a care. Rolling out dough was never your favorite part, you'd rather Austin do this so you can see him work his strong arms as his biceps flex with every flick of his wrists. You get so hot under the collar seeing him use his brute strength. Even something like opening a pesky pickle jar with little effort was a turn on.

You discarded your glasses beside you, not needing them for this part of the baking process. You were fully getting lost in the music playing loudly over the speakers as you begin rolling out the dough in time to the beat. Your hips naturally start to sway to and fro once more. You probably knew that you looked ridiculous right now, putting on an amusing show as you start to sing under your breath as you use the rolling pin on the pie crust.

What you didn't know was that Austin was watching your every move, but he didn't want to make his presence known just yet. He was wholeheartedly enjoying you prance around in your little outfit, with your hair up, and rolling your hips to the music like his own personal cabaret dancer.

His bottom lip was sucked into his mouth, and he let out a muffled whimper as he just stood there off to the side, getting all the more flustered. An internal battle was raging in his mind. Should he leave you to it? Or should he interrupt and have his way with you? Both options seemed tempting, as he was more than happy to observe like a snake in the grass. But his growing erection in his pants threw gasoline on the already burning fire within him. The choice was already made.

He decides to go on the prowl. Before you even know what's happening you feel Austin's arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasp, but you soon melt against Austin as he plants innocent kisses along the column of your neck, tickling you with the little bit of 5 o'clock shadow he's sporting.

"What's going on here, baby? You baking something good?" He purrs against you, the low timbre of his voice sending a chill down your spine and an ache down below. He's fanning the flames.

You sigh, getting lost in his kisses. His intrusion was welcomed. "Yes, i'm trying to make a cherry pie for you. I'm crossing my fingers it turns out well."

"A pie all for me? I feel so spoiled." Austin giggles against your neck.

"Well, why not? You've been so stressed lately. I wanted to do something nice for you." As Austin continues to ravage your neck, you attempt to get back into rolling out the dough.

"You always do nice things for me. I don't know what the hell I did to deserve you." He said in a hushed tone, enjoying the warmth of your curves pressed in all the right places against his body. His cock was getting harder by the second.

"Oh stop. I should be the one asking that, not you." You say over your shoulder. Austin could sometimes get into these modalities of believing that he's not worthy of all the good things in his life. While his brain might genuinely believe he's not deserving of your love, you both know that you're imperfectly perfect for each other.

"Hey, when you find another girl that bakes cherry pies for her man and looks as good as you while doing it then you let me know. Cause from my point of view, I'm only seeing one that fits the bill." He says enthusiastically, trying to emphasize his point.

"Shut up." You tease playfully.

"Nope, not shutting up. You got me acting all kinds of ways right now. Have you even seen yourself? You look so sexy in this apron, baby. My little housewife." He growled, his lips finding their way to where your jaw meets your ear. You chuckle when you feel his teeth nibbling teasingly on your earlobe.

"Housewife?" You kinda like the sound of that to be honest. It rolls off the tongue, and it sounds good when it's coming from Austin. You like it so much that you brush your ass back against his straining cock, which earns you a low moan from your man that reverberates in his chest.

"Oh yeah, you keep the place so nice and clean, tidying up after me when I'm too tired. You cook and bake the most scrumptious things for me. Granted, you make a horrible mess when you do, but even that's so hot. My messy girl." Austin rasps huskily. Your spurring him on so much right now and it's exhilarating to say the least. He can't help put rock his length against the curve of your ass. Breathy moans slip past his beautiful pouty lips.

A trail of wetness trickles down your thighs the more he's getting himself worked up into a tizzy. The pie has been long forgotten at this point. All you care about is how good Austin is making you feel. And you want him, right now. "Well damn, I'll wear this apron more often if it gets you this excited." You toss the rolling pin to the side and throw one of your hands behind you, cradling his head and tousling up his hair.

"Honey, you know I have a thing for vintage pinup. This right here gets my motor running." He pants hot and heavy against your ear.

Austin's grip on your waist tightens, and you gasp when he rolls his hips against your ass ardently, yearning for more friction. You moan at the delicious outline of his jean-clad cock nuzzling into your supple flesh.

"You feel that? That's what you do to me." He moans.

You bite your lip and just savor in everything Austin is giving to you in this moment. He has such an authoritative power over you where you can fall to pieces in his arms, aching for his cock in a second. He's aware of his power, and he wields it carefully.

"Austin, if you keep distracting me you won't have anything to eat for desert later." You whine in a halfhearted attempt to get back to the task at hand. You know full well that's not happening, but hey, at least you tried to act like you gave a damn.

He smirks wickedly. "That's not true, baby. I've already got desert right here. And in fact, I'm starving."

You yelp as Austin spins you around in his arms and picks you up by the backs of your thighs without a moment to lose. You instinctively jump into him, and wrap your legs around his svelte waist. He grunts as he places you down on the counter top and wastes no time in pressing his wanting lips against yours in a searing kiss filled with desperation. Your kisses turn heated, and fast. Tongues are fighting for dominance back and forth and your arousal spills out of your pussy, drenching your shorts that are holding on by a thread. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them, giving you his own erotic whines in return.

Austin pulls away from your mouth only for a moment, and leaves wet kisses down your jaw, your neck, and your decolletage. You throw your head back and whimper softly as you allow him more access to your skin begging for his attention.

His hands roam you body, making sure to give ample attention to palming your breasts through your shirt. His ears are filled with the sweet sounds of your insatiable moans that plays like the most beautiful music he's ever heard in his life. In an effort to get closer to him, you clutch onto the belt loops of his jeans in your hands and yank him forward, eliciting a gorgeous growl that make you shiver as you grind your heat along his shaft.

Austin's needy hands eventually make their way around to your back, letting his fingertips dance along the apron. He bites his lip before swallowing down his lust. "I don't know whether I want to leave this on or rip it off you." He says, toying with the bow of the apron, running his calloused fingers over the cotton. He lets the thought ruminate in his mind for a hot second before dropping the fabric from his reach. "Fuck it, the apron is staying on. I wanna see you wearing it as I take you. But first things first."

Unexpectedly, Austin peels himself away from your flushed body and gets down on his knees in front of you. The apron may be short, but you don't want it to obscure your vision. So you hold onto it with one of your hands, as the other braces itself back on the counter.

You feel Austin's hands snake from so much pent up desire as he slides your sleep shorts down and off your body. And he groans lustfully at the incredible vision of your bare pussy, glistening with your juices, inviting him in.

"Goddamn. No panties today? You're gonna be the death of me." He momentarily palms himself through his jeans, alleviating the strain against his throbbing cock that wants to spring free.

You bite your lip as you look into the eyes of your man before you. It's the hottest thing in the world seeing Austin on his knees, and he's always so eager to please his woman. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, and you spread your legs wider, beckoning him towards where you needed him the most.

He flashes you a devilish grin. He intends to rock your world, and you're literally gripping the edge of your seat with anticipation for his next move. He loves keeping you on your toes. Austin takes your hips in his hands and scoots you further down the counter, closer to his face. He gets right up close and personal to your sopping wet pussy, but he places soft butterfly kisses to your inner thighs, peppering them with love.

Your breathing rapidly increases as he gets closer and closer to your sex. His warm breath against your sensitive skin gives you goosebumps, and you whine, unable to take this torment any longer.

He flicks his baby blues up at you, which shine radiant as ever, with a twinkle of mischief behind his eyes, as he keeps you directly in his line of sight. Seeing you unfurl before him is what keeps the embers growing higher inside that tightly wound coil in his stomach. While teasing is one of his talents, he can't contain himself anymore. Finally he gives you what you want. He licks one long broad swipe through your sopping folds. And you practically cry out a the feel of his wet muscle nestled in your pussy.

Austin takes his time on you, even though he's mad with primal desire. He loves to savor you on his tongue, and make you a writhing mess on top of him. He sets a sensual pace of licking and swiping through your folds, collecting all of your heavenly nectar in his mouth and swallowing greedily. He moans against your pussy as he goes down on you, long and slow as if he's making out with you down below.

"Mmm. Fuck, you taste so good. I could eat your pussy all day, baby." He said between broad, sensual swipes of his tongue working miracles through your swollen lips. The more he laps you up the more you blossom open for him.

"Austin." You moan out. Your hips involuntarily move off the counter and thrust into his mouth, matching the leisure pace he's setting with his tongue. And he obliges by clinging onto your hips harder and spreading your legs further apart to get access to all of you at once. He continues his pace, unrelenting and slow burning. He has the most skillful mouth in all of existence. And you were the lucky girl to experience it firsthand.

Suddenly Austin sits back a little on his heels, pulling away from your pussy. But it's not for long. In a move that makes your head spin and your walls flutter, he spits directly onto your clit, getting it all covered with your juices and his own saliva thickly. You're practically dripping now onto the floor beneath you, but neither of you care. You see stars when Austin sets a target on your clit. He immediately goes to town swiping kitten licks up and down on your swollen bud.

"Oh yes! Like that." You mewl. You can't control yourself anymore, you release the apron you've been clutching onto and try to fold it as best you can so it's out of your way. Austin's sandy waves is where your hand finds residence as you push him further into your throbbing clit.

You can feel him smirk against you, knowing he's got you right where he wants you. You gush around his mouth, your juices dripping down his chin as he brings you bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucks while lapping you up against his tongue. You feel like collapsing back onto the counter, he's eating you out like a thirsty man in need of water. All the obscene slurping noises he's making with his mouth as he explores all of your folds with his tongue is bringing you close to the edge. And he knows you're close, those sexy high pitched moans you make as you furrow your brow and shake around him has him picking up his pace.

"Come on baby, give it to me." He groans, his baritone voice being muffled between your legs as you keep feeding him your slick. He sloppily drags his tongue all around and through your sweet cunt, and he hungrily devours your clit with such tenacity that you want to pass out from pure pleasure. His puffy red lips are getting swollen by the second. He wants to release his cock from his jeans and jerk himself off while his tongue is buried inside of you, but he knows you're close to coming and he keeps that urge at bay for now.

He growls ferociously against your pussy, the vibration adding to the orgasmic mix of his succulent lips and strong tongue. Austin is determined to make you come like this, and he's not letting up.

"I-I'm gonna..." You moan helplessly, but your warning does nothing to stop the impactful climax that makes your walls stutter. You moan his name one final time, and your wetness pours out of you and blankets his mouth, and Austin greedily suctions it all up into his mouth. You shake hard around him, but he grounds you with his domineering hands on your hips. His fingers will probably bruise your flesh, but it'll be a reminder of how eager your man is to eat you alive.

"That's my girl." Austin coos, praising you from down below as he licks you clean. Your body jolts back a little from sensitivity as Austin's tongue gently kisses and swipes up every last drop of your orgasm. "Better than any desert you could ever make me."

A blush creeps over your blissed out face as you watch him clean you up good. Honestly, Austin could make you come on his tongue again just like this, but he has other plans for you this afternoon.

Austin plants one tender kiss to your clit, making you whimper, before he stands back up. He looks dazed out of his mind with your juices smeared all over the lower half of his face. He takes the bottom of his sweater and lifts it up to his face, wiping away what's left of you. Austin's well defined abs that you love so much are exposed for your viewing pleasure.

Your allow your fingertips to dance along his stomach, and you can feel him suck in a breath beneath your hands at your gentle touch. Once he's done wiping his face he swiftly removes his top, throwing it across the kitchen. As he does that, your hands travel on their own accord lower to the waistband of his jeans. Your deft fingers pull back the button and unzip the fly. He helps do the rest as he hooks his thumbs unto his boxers and his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles in one swift motion. At long last, his throbbing cock springs free from the confines of his clothes. And you bask at the man before you, getting even wetter at the fact that his cock is all yours.

There's no time to step out of his pants completely, he leaves them around his ankles. And he doesn't want to remove your crop top or apron. Those stay on as per his request. He immediately takes his cock in his hand and grazes his red tip through your slippery folds. You both whine lustfully as your juices and his pre-cum sloshes together in a sinful mixture.

"Austin, please. Fuck me." You purr, sex dripping from your vocal chords. One of your hands cling to his broad shoulder for support, and the other one plays with the long golden tendrils at the nape of his neck.

He looks gorgeous as he bites his lip. "God, I love hearing you beg for my cock." He moans breathlessly. Austin brings you further down the edge of the countertop, one of his hands rests on the small of your back, and the other one is groping the flesh of your ass to hoist you up in his embrace.

As you patiently wait for Austin to make his move, your demure doe eyes peer into his. Those crystalline orbs you love so much have completely stormed over, his pupils dilated. He's about to lose his damn mind if he doesn't get his dick wet right this second.

Enough playing around. It's time to get down to brass tax. He drags the head of his thick cock down to your weeping entrance and shallowly thrusts inside until he bottoms out all the way. The groan that befell his lips and shrouded your senses made your pussy clench around his engorged member, coaxing him on even more.

He gives you a second for your walls to adjust to his girth, which doesn't take long because you're soaking wet. And you accommodate Austin's impressive cock so well. In no time the temporary sting of being stretched gives way to the immense pleasure.

Austin gets to work thrusting in and out of your slippery cunt with ease, still just as tight for him as the first time he made love to you.

"Aus!" You moan, throwing your head back in ecstasy.

"Oh shit, your pussy feels like Heaven." He groans. He holds onto you tight as he fucks you passionately. Your juices coat his cock, strings of slick stick to the both of you, making it easier for him to push deeper inside of you.

Your walls flutter around him so deliciously, he can't help but fuck you just a little bit faster. Using his shoulder for leverage as you hold onto him, you raise your hips off the counter and thrust your hips down onto his cock. Soon you're working together in a sweet rhythm as you pant and moan into each other's sweaty faces.

He looks so hot with his mouth hung open, filthy noises pouring out past his puffy lips. And his long hair hangs low in his face as you bounce harder on his cock. The tendrils obscure his pretty eyes, but it makes your walls stroke his engorged length even harder.

You're so lost in the throws of passion that you barely notice Austin reach behind you to a cold bowl of whipped cream you have sitting out for the cherry pie. Austin cheekily dips two fingers into the cream and taps his fingertips against your bottom lip as you're in the middle of letting out a carnal moan. Your eyes spring open suddenly as you feel the cold cream start to seep past your lips.

"Suck." Was all Austin said. Your pussy gushed around him, being turned on by the command. And god do you ever love this man's fingers so much, how can you seriously say no to this? And he uses that knowledge of your yearning for his fingers all the time to his advantage.

You let your tongue lap underneath his two fingers, bringing them into your mouth expertly. Austin watches intently as you whine around his digits, sucking and swirling your tongue around his fingers as you draw them deeper into your mouth, lavishing them as if it was his cock in your mouth.

Austin let's out a long, guttural groan from his throat as he watches his fingers disappear into your mouth as you swallowed all of the whipped cream obediently. As quickly as you brought his sexy fingers into your mouth he pulled them out, and went to wrap his entire hand around the front of your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"My best girl. You greedily take everything I give you, don't you? My perfect housewife is so well disciplined." He grits through his clenched jaw as he slams his cock in and out of your aching pussy.

A little lightbulb flickered through your mind in this moment. Why should he have all the fun playing with his food? While Austin is brushing his swollen cock perfectly against your g-spot, making you gush and shiver around him, you set your plan into motion.

He watches you with a quizzical brow as you too dip your fingers into the bowl of whipped cream. Once you've scooped enough of the sticky confection onto your fingertips, you squeal playfully as you smear the cream over Austin's cheek. Some of it falls into his neck in the process by accident.

To your surprise, this doesn't deter Austin at all. In fact, you can feel his cock pumping harder and deeper into your juicy pussy. He's actually enjoying this. The dominant act he was putting on for you slowly faded away, leaving him laughing sweetly at your antics.

He smiles wide. "How dare you! I'm kinda in the middle of fucking your brains out here." He chuckled breathlessly. His pace never relenting, he's still managing to plunge his cock so good into you.

You lean into him. "Don't worry honey, I always clean up my messes. That's what good housewives do right?" You purred sexily. His eyes widen in trepidation and arousal at your words. And he nearly dropped you out of his grasp when he felt your soft tongue scandalously lick his face, getting every remnant of cream into your mouth.

He moans, and the hand around your throat drops to your voluptuous ass as he swats you a couple of times. His cock throbs strong and proud as he strokes your sweet spot over and over again. You tightened your grip on his shoulder, and you further threaded your fingers deep into his silky golden strands. You were practically levitating off of the table at this point, he held you firm against his hard body.

Your pussy enveloped every amazing inch of him as he thrusted his cock as far as he could feasibly get, before pulling out almost all the way. You whined at the loss of him with just the tip clinging on for dear life. But you both shuddered, groaning wildly to each other when he slammed you down swiftly on his cock. He was balls deep inside and unrelenting.

"You're so fucking hot, baby. I swear to God I'm gonna come any second." He bellows, he shivers violently as your sweet tongue gets back to work lapping up all of the cream off his face, and you pepper kisses down the bulging veins in his neck.

His thrusts quickly turn sloppy. Your divine pussy is milking him for everything he's worth, drawing out his impending orgasm right along with you. And he desperately wants to give all of himself over to you.

"Aus, i'm so close." You moan. Your legs twitch around his waist, and you bounce down harder on his dick. The most erotic sounds were coming from your conjoined bodies. You didn't know how long you could last like this, but it wasn't a whole lot of time.

"I know. Come on my cock. Give me what's mine." He snarls like an animal in heat in your face. You lose it right then and there. When Austin talks dirty to you like that it's game over.

"Fuuuuck, Austin!" You groan one final time. You shake in his arms as you feel your orgasm rush over you, and ooze out around his cock and drip down your thighs and onto his legs. This new pool of wetness has Austin catapulting over the cliff, and you can feel him lose his resolve with every deep plunge of his cock. Your walls coaxing him to come, and your sexy moans, was the thing that did him in.

"Y/N, fucking hell!" Austin hoarsely yelled. He stuttered inside of you, his cock swelling up and shooting out load after load of his hot come, completely drenching every inch of your walls.

You both shake and writhe together, coming down from the highs of your explosive orgasms. Poor Austin can no longer hold you up, the adrenaline leaving his body and rendering his arms slack. He gingerly places you back down on the counter before he actually does drop you for real.

You both simply stare at each other, eyes full of nothing but love and adoration. He presses his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

"My god that was somethin' else." He giggles.

"Mm. Yeah, that was amazing." You praise, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to find your way back down to Earth. "Oh hang on, I missed a spot on." You say curiously as you inspect Austin's perfectly sculped face in your hands. You didn't do the best job apparently of getting rid of all the whipped cream off of Austin's cheek. You take the ruffled edge of the apron from between your bodies and bring it up to his face, gently cleaning off the shiny sticky residue of the cream.

Austin hums as you dote on him. "You really are so goddamn perfect, y'know that?"

You blush. "No, you."

Austin rolls his eyes and smacks your ass lightly, making you jump. "You're incorrigible." He chuckles, bemused by your inability to take a compliment.

Your apron does it's job wiping Austin's face and neck. You do one final pass along his skin before you smile at your handiwork. Austin sighs contentedly when you place an affectionate kiss on his cheek. And he reciprocates by taking your chin in his palm, his fingers caressing your jaw, as he presses his pillowy lips tenderly onto yours.

Somehow you both forgot that Austin's cock is still stuffed full inside your pussy, the feel of him buried to the hilt was like home and you didn't want him to leave. Neither did he, but the alarm on the stove buzzed impossibly loud in your ears, alerting you that it was at the perfect temperature to put the pie inside.

Austin laughed, crinkling his nose cutely. "I would say sorry for getting in the way of making your cherry pie. But i'm not." He said jokingly.

You attempted to laugh but you whimpered as Austin withdrew himself from your used and abused pussy. His come leaked out of you and fell onto the floor by his feet. He took note of the mess on the ground and trailed his eyes hungrily over your exposed cunt oozing with his load. He licked his lips.

"Now that is the best looking pie I've ever seen. Goddamn." He threw you a sexy wink before making his way over to the sink to grab some paper towel to clean himself off.

You groaned at his joke. "Aus, I just knew you were gonna say something like that." You pinched the bridge of your nose with your fingers, laughing and cringing at the words that flew out of his mouth.

Once he was done with himself, he pulled his pants and boxers back on, zipping them up. He turned back around to you with a new towel and went to work on cleaning his come from your thighs. A simple but caring romantic gesture that made you swoon.

"I thought you love when I make jokes." He teased. After cleaning you up he threw the towels in the trash and lifted you down off of the counter and back on steady ground. You wobbled a little, grasping at his biceps as your legs regained life.

"Of course I do, you're actually really funny when you want to be." You quipped back in a sassy tone.

He feigned hurt by putting his hand over his heart. "Ouch. That one cut just a little too deep, baby."

You fluffed your long lashes at him as you tried to readjust your top and your apron. "Love you." You said, dripping with too much sugary sweetness.

But Austin was putty in your hands. "Love you more." He scanned the kitchen floors to where he discarded your sleep shorts and ran to grab them, handing them to you. "Figured you wanted these back." He grinned.

"Yes thank you, I don't wanna be standing here trying to make this pie with my vagina hanging out." You giggled.

Austin threw his head back and burst out into a hearty belly laugh. "Honestly, that sounds so sexy to me. I would not complain."

You slapped his arm. "Of course you wouldn't. But I seriously need to get a move on with this pie. I'm not even done rolling the dough out."

With your shorts back on and trying your best to look put together, as if you didn't just get brutally fucked on the counter, you turned your attention back to the half rolled out pie crust. You still had so much work ahead of you.

Austin shoves one of his hands into his jeans pocket while the other one drapes around your waist, he looks down at you like your his entire world. And you are. "Would you like some help?"

You avert your attention away from the mess on the counter and up into your man's sparkling diamond eyes. You smiled warmly and nodded. "Sure I'd love your help, thank you."

The two of you get to work posthaste on coming together as a team, creating the most sweet and juicy cherry pie you've both ever eaten. But while it's an outstanding desert, Austin much prefers the taste of you.

tags: @aconflagrationofmyown @harringrove-sketchbookpages @samfangirls @2lekk @moonchild-daniella @ggwritesstuff @plasticfantasticl0ver @austinbutlersworld @unadulteratedkingdomzombie @sapphirescripts @ash-omalley @pearlparty @denised916 @cartooncoaster @flowersofcement @allittakesisoneflight @powerofelvis @headfullofpresley @elvisabutler @avengen

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aventurine83 · 1 year

Text

Lilia Vanrouge x Reader

✿Briar's Secret [PART 1] ✿

Notes: Angst, slight fluff? Fae-human war era, Meleanor's little sister!reader, Chief strategist!reader.

Includes my twst OC Midnight. [Might post him soon]

Shallow sunlight streamed in through the enamoring quartz balcony of the throne room, which, draped in curtains of velvet and obsidian, failed not to pay worthwhile tribute to the dweller of the grey, marbled throne. The crown princess of the fae, her hair as raven as the night sky and eyes emerald as the sea- Meleanor was her name, tapped a clawed finger on the throne impatiently as the General of Briar Valley entered the hall.

Her younger sister [Y/N], who had eyes in a glistening shade of [e/c] and only a single horn wrested on her head, immediately wasted no time in absorbing the General's features and etching them into the depths of her essence. General Lilia Vanrouge. Her lifelong love. He took off his mask, which had met with many a worn out tear during the intensity of his numerous battles on the front lines, to reveal a set of precious ruby red eyes set under long eyelashes that fluttered open as if to endeavour the commemorative moment that marked the reveal of his beautiful irises. His dark lips were pressed in a thin line, his black hair messy from being on the front lines, yet to her, it was perfect from all angles, with those conspicuous red streaks that only accentuated his beauty further. Behind him, trailed his trusted aide, Baul Zigvolt.

"YOU'RE LATE, LILIA!" Meleanor roared, the echoing thud of her staff sounding in the room as she slammed it against the ground.

"My apologies, Princess." Lilia bowed courteously, remembering to be formal to the future queen of his nation. [Y/N] found it quite adorable, in all honesty. "There has been quite the miscalculation in our strategy." He glared at [Y/N], who only shrugged in response. Not even she had the ability to bring about prediction on every outcome. "The enemy has surrounded Ibara Castle. We must leave immediately."

"Leave? Due to those petty humans that squander on our land?" Meleanor scoffed as she crossed one leg over the other. "Never. I thought they were but mere pigs yapping outside. I shall not leave this castle."

"Quit being stubborn!" Lilia yelled, in his familiar tone. [Y/N] chuckled, remembering those days when she had endeavoured to put Lilia in dresses and play house with him as kids. He'd always raise his voice at her and she'd end up crying. Those were the days. Innocent ones, of fun and play. "We have to leave! We aren't kids anymore! When have I ever been wrong?!" Lilia yelled, his voice hoarse and desperate.

"Take my sister and my child. And leave." Meleanor commanded. [Y/N]'s eyes widened before a small smirk broke out on her lips. They were really alike, the two sisters. Always so self-sacrificing. Not that she would allow a sacrifice from Meleanor's end.

"The hell?! No way! All of you are coming with me! Thats you included, Meleanor!" Lilia protested, but Meleanor threw her egg at him. He managed to catch it in just the barest of timescales, a scowl etched on his face as he turned his nose up at her.

"What the hell are you thinking?! What if the egg broke?!" Lilia clutched the egg tightly, embracing the pitch black covering holding the future prince tightly to his torso.

"I entrust it to you, Lilia." Meleanor smirked. [Y/N] crossed her arms over her chest. In her mind, there was only one plan as the chief strategist of the royal court. One that certainly did not involve the sacrifice of the future queen of Briar Valley. Rather one that included the sacrifice of a singular, expendable pawn titled the 'second princess of Briar Valley'.

"Hell no, you don't. Besides, the egg won't hatch without its parents' love! I can't love anyone!" Lilia barked. How untrue his words were, how vile a thought that Lilia was not capable of loving. A mild ache spread in [Y/N]'s heart.

"You love me, though, don't you? Or was that all a lie when you proposed to me? Besides, you love Raven too. You guys spent more time together than married couples." Meleanor chuckled. [Y/N] forced a smile on her face. She knew Lilia loved her elder sister. She'd never be a choice. All she cared for most was the smile that decorated Lilia's face. So for him, she would . . .

"THAT WAS WHEN I WAS A KID, 200 YEARS AGO! It doesn't mean anything now!" Lilia shot back. Ah, but how difficult it was for [Y/N] to believe the raven haired General's words when he so clearly preferred the company of her elder sister. [Y/N] felt the leader of the Midnight Solstice, her personal assassin Midnight, tug at her sleeve. His pleading azure eyes bore into hers. He defied none of her orders, yet at this moment, he showed a single sliver of wavering hesitance. She gave a light pat to his short jet black hair before walking towards the General.

"I am telling you, take [Y/N] and my egg and leave-" Meleanor was interrupted when [Y/N] cleared her throat. Meleanor's brow rose in slight curiosity as she gazed at her little sister.

"You have it backwards. Big sis Meleanor, you are going with them. And I am staying here with Midnight to defend the castle." She announced with a slight wave of her hands to gesture her intentions.

"DON'T BE CRAZY! YOU'RE NOT EVEN STRONG, YOU'RE JUST THE GODDAMN STRATEGIST! You're a weakass princess who's never been on the front lines! You're not even half as strong as Meleanor is! No, not even a damn tenth of it!" Lilia scowled harshly at her, his crimson eyes glinting with a raging fury that rivaled the embers of fire. How his words dug daggers into her heart. His comparison of her wretched nature to that of the benevolent and strong image of her elder sister pained her to the core.

"Lilia is right. You can't stay here, [Y/N]. It would be much too dangerous." Meleanor frowned, with a look that only displayed concern for her younger sibling.

"I am the chief strategist. I have a plan." [Y/N] murmured as she tapped her foot in slight frustration on the ground.

"Oh yeah?! Most of those damn plans involve a low survival rate for you! Even your new strategy led to the enemies surrounding us! Explain that!" Lilia growled, his fists clenching as he tried hard to suppress his anger. [Y/N]'s heart further shattered, she knew deep down that every soldier's death on the front lines was only the result of her damned strategies. Lilia didn't need to say that out loud for the Sevens' sake.

"I plan to use my unique magic." She finally revealed. A look of shock crossed the looks of every person present in the room, save for Midnight.

"You don't have one!" Lilia scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at her icily.

"I do. But it can only be used once. I was saving it for a moment such as the one currently upon us." [Y/N] answered sternly, glaring back at the furious General. "It has power enough to take out every single troop out there."

"Then I shall permit you to use it. However, we shall remain in the castle." Meleanor offered gently with a smile painted upon her dark lips.

"No can do. It is too powerful a magic. You must escape or you will face the brunt of it as well. Only someone so capable of defense magic as Midnight could survive it. Hence why I plan on taking him with me." [Y/N] replied, a serious expression on her otherwise laid back face. The one horned princess was serious, which was not something out of the ordinary, yet at the same time, it was excruciatingly new.

"Then I shall permit it. I trust you to not lie to me. I shall escape with Lilia and the others." Meleanor nodded. Something was off, it was not that difficult to sense, yet the frustrating reality of the situation veiled Meleanor's eyes with a blindfold of hope.

"You're not telling us something." Lilia snarled. As always, the General was quick to pick up on things out of the mundane, his fists still clenched in an effort to rein in his anger.

"I will return alive. This, I promise. Please, Lilia. I beg you, trust me." [Y/N] implored as she looked at him pleadingly. Despise was all she felt on lying to her beloved General, yet it was all she could do to convince his stubborn intellect to run away to a place of safety where harm had little to no reach.

Lilia gazed at her, his crimson eyes scanning her expression for anything he could use against her. He took a moment to think before he finally relented. "And your chance of survival?"

"Guaranteed." Lie after lie exited [Y/N]'s mouth. "I'll regroup with you guys after I'm done with those nuisances outside. I promise. We will meet again." .

Lilia groaned before tousling his hair with his hand. "Fine. I'll leave it to you, Chief Strategist. Even Meleanor believes you, so I have no reason to doubt you." She knew why Lilia trusted her this much. She'd never once lied to him.

Her thoughts only raced thus:

Sorry, Lilia.

Please run away.

Please don't look back.

Please don't feel sad.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

NOTE: DO NOT REPOST OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK.

#malleus draconia #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #diasomnia #diasomnia x reader

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laughing-with-god · 7 months

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How would victor jungkook be ?

in terms of what? like yandere or his story?

well, my original plan was that Victor's revenge would be the sequel to Quarter Quell once JK won it and he'd join the other victors. However, I used Taehyung in QQ so it wouldn't make sense if he was also in VR lol. Ofc, i can prob do a rewrite and just replace taehyung in QQ, but idk.

either way, here are some random headcanons for how I picture jk as a Victor

thinks some of the other victors only won on a technicality and doesn't mind making passive-aggressive comments about it

does NOT like being associated with Jin or Jimin's weak asses, thinks they're sneaky little shits who had to rely on tricks bc they would lose in a physical fight

he's very popular as a victor. tbh i think he's the only one who rivals jimin's popularity. the capitol love how bloodthirsty he is. while jimin mainly has female fans, jungkook has a good mix of both since men want to be like JK, and obvi women find him hot

I think he'd do a lot of tv shows and interviews. he knows people value his input for games so I can see him offering his insight on current tributes. remember the scoring system for how tributes would get rated? i can see him being asked to be on the team that assess those.

as a mentor, I think he'd be the type to pick a favorite and only really focus on that kid. he doesn't care if it's heartless, he's not wasting his time on a lost cause just to make them feel better.

I can see him looking at the other kid like "you might as well live it up while you can, you probably aren't gonna make it past the bloodbath."

if by some miracle that kid did survive and win, JK would be like ".....damn, guess I owe you a drink. my bad. welcome to victor's row tho :)"

as a mentor, he will tell his kids to just stick to the career alliance. if for some reason a kid from 2 wanted to align themselves with someone whose not a career, JK would just be like "ur on your own w that" bc ain't no way he's gonna attempt to talk to non career victors who prob hate him

I think he's another victor who splits his time pretty evenly between the capitol and his home district.

does not have to sell his body or anything because he is a capitol fav, but I do think he'll make shitty comments towards jimin

"Hi whore- I mean, Jimin"

yeah those two hate each other lol^^

doesn't really have any triggers or trauma from his games.

if anything he looks back at it with fond memories, which kinda freak the rest of the victors out

I don't think he has any victor friends

thinks jin and jimin are weak, namjoon is too clever for his own good, yoongi is annoying, hoseok is ungrateful and tae is just there...

I think yoongi is the only one who outright tried fighting jk once in a drugged up rage

jk prob made a comment about a tribute from 6.

"I bet if we put morphling in the cornucopia she would've actually survived the bloodbath. all kids from six are just addicts."

yeah yoongi tried punching him for that and Jk wiped the floor with him, namjoon had to get involved

I don't know how he'd spend his winnings tbh. I don't see him being really into anything other than weapons.

As a yandere, i think he'd try really hard to market you guys as the ideal victor couple

he'd def talk anout marrying you and having other victor babies in interviews n shit

"when it comes time for Yn and I to train our kids for the games-"

it's an open secret that the capitol just let JK have you lol

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wild-flowerhoney · 8 months

Text

okay well. here's my version of the percico hunger games au:

nico's meant to be part of the careers, being reaped in district one (luxury) when he's sixteen/seventeen - except, well, he didn't actually receive training. bianca had and tried to pass on what she knew but it was clear which child hades was interested in keeping alive (or is it). she died in an accident exactly a week before the reaping. and it was decidedly too late to fix his mistake and teach nico what he'd passed onto bianca. the other careers know this and to be frank, nico's just been abandoned and considered useless by pretty much everyone, mentor included. (the di angelo aren't even from district one. hades and maria met during his victory tour - and the capitol turned a blind eye when he kept visiting district twelve and eventually brought the kids back with him after her death.)

percy's the one to volunteer from district twelve, in his last year being reaped too (eighteen), in place of estelle (12, in her first year being reaped) - and he knows he's doing everything to get home. he has a sister and a mother and paul, the only father he's ever known. percy has something to go back to (in the same way nico doesn't), he has no training but he's strong enough from physical work that it's not impossible and that's what matters (percy would be from district four, conceived from poseidon's own victory tour. except he'd really had no interest in the child, not like hades had).

here's how it starts:

day one: nico, the supposed career, is shunned by his group. percy hears them say it'd be mercy, to send him back to his sister and mother (he doesn't like it. not a bit. percy's an older brother, values his family more than anything. they couldn't have said anything worse than that in his mind) and witnesses the fight that ensues - nico is fast, skilled enough with knives but not nearly on their level. it's the anger that fuels him enough to come out of it bruised but whole (after that, they get even more ruthless). the anger and percy, who's quite eager to put them in their places too (if he breaks one of their arms, will the capitol be able to heal it before they get into the arena? he's more than willing to find out). that's their first real interaction - and nico comes out of it angry at percy for getting involved, asking if he really thought nico was this defenceless. percy's just as mad and yells back that they both are, when everyone thinks they're easy pickings.

day two: day after, nico doesn't apologize but he trains near percy and gives him what little information he has on the other careers and from what bianca taught him. they're not friends, they bicker and pretty much bring out each other's most sarcastic self (and maybe that's the closest thing to friendship they've got so. you know).

day two, evening: training scores - percy gets an 8, incredibly high for someone with this little training but not overly so ("don't become a priority for them"). nico gets the full 11, to percy's concern. when asked how he achieved that score and if he knows that he just put a massive target on his back, nico seems decidedly unbothered.

day three: the interviews. they're both dressed up obviously but they joke (kind of) backstage about missing the cuts and bruises they'd given each other ("oh, you don't have my gift anymore? well that's ungrateful of you."). and here's the moment we've been waiting for: nico is asked about girlfriends and shrugs it off, it moves onto boyfriends. other tributes are mentioned, nico looks uncomfortable and blushes but doesn't reveal anything. at this point the interviewer is convinced it's another tribute, though, and brings it up with every other male in the other districts. it gets to percy who, having been "taught" to keep the public's attention by his mentor, runs with it (the blush is real, it's embarrassing, but he spins his little alliance with nico into a full blown friendship, not revealing anything truly incriminating but giving them hints of what they want). nico's mad, again. percy is also mad at him for reacting with anger - didn't percy just ensure them a better shot at victory? what exactly has him so pissed off?

night before the games start: percy doesn't want to go into the arena mad at his only ally, nico agrees. percy tells him about his family, his reasons to go home - when asked about his own, nico says he has nothing (hades and his stepmother didn't even visit after the reaping). percy is uncomfortable, asks him what he means by that, surely there must be a single reason. nico doesn't answer. percy understands what he's not saying, nico has no intention of going home and he never did. probably got an 11 just to make it easier and got mad when percy ensured them at least a couple sponsors for the same reason. nico leaves, giving him a last goodbye. this is when his safety becomes another priority for percy (mirroring canon percy with his search for nico), if percy himself can't win he wants it to be nico - he'll drag him kicking and screaming to the end if he has to. when the thought of having to kill nico pops up he pushes it down, unwilling to entertain it. no need to be worried about it, just yet (literally going "that's future percy's problem").

stopping here bc i might actually write this and im not giving the whole plot JUST YET (suggest mentors/tributes btw just be aware most of them WILL die, the only ones that are 100% going to live are percico).

#pjo #hoo #nico di angelo #percico #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #pernico #nicercy #hunger games au #pjo fic #pjo huger games au #percico hunger games au

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ohbo-ohno · 10 months

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ooh ghoap x reader hunger games au where it’s the first time soap and reader have to mentor together and ghost kind of takes a backseat - both of your district’s tributes get brutally killed and they have to figure out how to get it in your head that this is just how it goes

thinking about soap getting close to them. he'd been sorta distant from you, fresh off his own win, but now your district has won two years in a row and he can't help but feel optimistic for these new kids. you refuse to get close to them, believing ghost when he all but says the Capitol won't let something like this carry on for too long.

it's a point of contention between you and soap, and when those kids inevitably do die, he hates how upset he gets. he tells himself he should've known better, shouldn't have gotten so close (and it's ghost's voice in his head, despite how he can see the other man grieve visibly when they first watch the games) but that doesn't help anything now.

and either you're distant, because you very intentionally didn't get involved, and he's so angry at you. how could you now be upset? they watched that boy get his head chopped off barely five minutes into the games, why aren't you crying? and you're just so closed off, so far away from these games and these kids and these deaths, you can't care (because then you won't be able to stop, and you can't go through what soap's going through every year).

or you're just as upset as him, despite all your efforts to the contrary. you're heartbroken, can't stop crying, can't stop seeing those deaths, and you and soap can't exactly help each other when you're nearly inconsolable. not like ghost's much help on the emotional-availability front, and the three of you just... don't cope well. all you've really got is your shared grief, but that's hardly a comfort

#asks and answers #ghoap x reader #bo writes #hunger games au

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firstdragonlady · 3 months

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What we've learned about the Fine Line Universe so far

The Reaping: Annual event for the month of January in which one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen are randomly selected from the twelve Districts to go through a series of three tests in order to determine who will win a full-ride scholarship to Capitol City's best schools (Panem Middle [extremely rare], Panem Academy, and Panem University). Upon graduation from University, the Victors then are required to serve the Capitol in whatever career the Sponsors decide as gratitude for the Capitol's generosity. - Most often the career is in line with gifts and penchants the Victor leans toward in their aptitude test in Test Three. Sometimes it involves their talent from Test Two.

Each Reaping results in one male Victor and one female Victor. The exception was Haymitch Abernathy's and Chaff McKinley's Reaping.

The Victors must be from separate Districts. The exception was Haymitch Abernathy's and Chaff McKinley's Reaping. - For this Reaping, the Sponsors decided they were going to choose a boy and girl from the same District (this was a PR response to the accusations of "fixed" wins after Gloss and Cashmere Gild from District One won in consecutive years). This allowed the winning District to receive twice as much reward funding. Likewise, the Victors would receive twice the winnings. To double the chances, the Sponsors requested four Tributes from each District (two girls, two boys). - After Maysilee's death involuntarily disqualified Haymitch Abernathy (a favorite amongst the Sponsors during the Reaping, although that was unknown to the Tributes), the Sponsors deemed it unfair to require him to go home when such a tragic happenstance wasn't his fault. Additionally, they needed to cover Maysilee's death as an accident and redirect the attention of anyone following the Reaping updates from Caesar Flickerman. - In an attempt to rectify this, the Sponsors agreed that the winners would ideally be of the same District, but if the pairs did not meet the Sponsors' expectations of Capitol City/Panem standards, they would settle for two winners of the same gender. The District would still receive twice the funding, but the Victors would receive the normal amount of winnings to compensate for the expense. Thus Chaff and Haymitch's unusual win.

In-depth Reaping proceedings will be explained/posted in a later chapter and updated here accordingly.

Victors are chosen by Sponsors. Snow does not have a say, although he reserves the right to expel at his discretion regardless of how much the Sponsors favor a particular Victor (Two exceptions: Finnick Odair and Cashmere Gild since they bring in the most money, and Snow is a businessman).

Sponsors are primarily members of the elite Capitol society (the ten families in the hierarchy), but anyone with enough money for a session may buy a Victor. This includes celebrities, politicians, wealthy members of society who aren't in the elite, or any regular person who saved up enough money and knows about the Reaping. These non-elite Sponsors tend to have close connections and moral attributes of the elite Sponsors.

Knowledge of the Reaping is typically gained in University (Beetee thinks there's a secret society at Panem U that helps to filter this, but he hasn't spoken to anyone about it except his cousin)

The Reaping and its philanthropic propaganda is a smokescreen for an underground human trafficking ring, going on its seventy-fifth year by the time Fine Line begins

There are rules and procedures regarding the sessions. This will be detailed in a later post and updated accordingly here.

Each Victor has a Victory night with the Sponsor who is "randomly selected" amongst the pool. Sometimes it's genuinely random (Johanna's Victory night). Most of the time, Snow will offer the night if he noticed a Sponsor taking an extra special particular interest in the Victor for an exorbitantly high price even for an elite (Finnick, Cashmere, and Gloss's nights). Other times Snow will "randomly select" a Sponsor for a Victor if he feels it will serve his own purpose (Haymitch's night, a former Victor rarely Sponsors another Victor and Snow was too sadistically curious to turn it down)

Victors are declared on January 31st, regardless of the day of the week.

The Victory nights are always held on January 31st and February 1st, regardless of the day of the week.

The Victor's Ball occurs two weeks after the Victors are declared on February 14th or the Saturday following (So if January 31st landed on a Thursday, the Victor's Ball would occur on February 16th). The exception was Haymitch Abernathy and Chaff McKinley's Victors Ball since Haymitch sustained serious injury during his Victory night that required hospitalization. The Ball to be delayed for an entire month. [The cover that Snow gave the students was a sudden bout of appendicitis from Haymitch Abernathy])

More will be updated as the story progresses. Feel free to ask any questions in my inbox or under this post and I'll tag you with the answer.

#hayffie #lullabyfineline #thg #ao3 #fine line lore

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ephemerasnape · 4 months

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This is the self insert/OC fairy. 🌼🧚‍♀️When you get this in your ask box, please tell us 3 facts about your S/I or OC and pass it around. Let's learn about each other's S/Is/OCs! 🌈🌷

Well my self-insert being me is kind of boring, so let's talk about Oswald, although I don't really see him as an original character, but That Exact Guy™. Having added two chapters to Paying the Piper in the past 24 hours or so he has been on my mind a lot lately...

Name: Oswald Tarrington Age: 19 Nationality: English Blood Status: Unknown father, pureblood mother, making him at least a half-blood. Occupation: Ashwinder Scout (Extortionist in charge of collecting tribute for the Rookwood Gang in Hogsmeade) Physical characteristics: Auburn hair, pale skin, pale green eyes, average height, slim build. (See above: he is that exact Scout.) Personality: Practical, can play the role of the menacing Ashwinder well, but he's not particularly cruel and has a soft side. Aspirations: Leave the Ashwinders for a better life, preferably one that does not involve sleeping in a tent year-round. History: Oswald never knew his father and his mother died when he was young, so he was raised by his grandparents. When they also died while he was attending Hogwarts, he became homeless over holidays, and dropped out to join the Ashwinders out of necessity at about 16. He's lived in a tent on the outskirts of Hogsmeade ever since. A more generous headmaster might have stepped in to help but Black could not have given less of a fuck. Hogwarts House: Slytherin.

There's a basic profile for Oswald. Sorry, I lost the plot before I wrote all that then looked back and saw it was supposed to be three fun facts. Here are some "fun facts" about our favorite Scout that aren't in any of my fics:

1. He's a lightweight, and it's gotten him into trouble. 2. While he acts tough, he's never actually hurt anyone. At least not physically. 3. Oswald's not aware of it, but a certain notorious dark wizard has taken a special interest in him.

Happy to answer any questions you might have about Oswald. Thanks for the ask, @esolean

#oswald the ashwinder scout #paying the piper #ashwinder scout #asks #headcanons

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gabriellerudessa · 5 months

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Thoughts about Mass Effect

So, I've just finished my run of the Legendary Edition. For context, I was 18 when ME3 launched, and I'll be 30 this year; the last time I had played the whole trilogy was WAY BEFORE the LE was launched lol.

So. All this time between gameplays and a lot of things in my life made me reflect a lot on the games and conflicts presented, the end and so on. Bear with me, this will be long.

Catalyst says that the root of the problem it has to solve is "organic versus synthetic"; this causes whiplash, because it is NOT something heavily shown in the games as "the root".

On the contrary, what is SHOWN is "control and order versus free will and self-determination": it's shown in the genophage - created because the Salarians COULDN'T control the Krogan -, in the Quarians versus Geth, the Collectors - so heavily indoctrinated they can't chose by themselves again -, Saren, The Illusive Man since ME2, the Reapers, and in ALL companions to some extent. Miranda, EDI and Jacob are the most glaring ones, but all of them bring this. Most of them in the oldest conflict regarding Created versus Creator to ever exist: Children versus Parents. Children test boundaries and once old enough, when they gain awareness and notice that Parents aren't as perfect as they thought, conflict arises. It can either end very badly, coldly, or they find new common ground.

And all this involves HEAVILY Control versus Free Will, some parents see children as extensions and something to control, others understand it's not like this. Most companions have this to some extent, usually from the children POV; Thane, I think, is the only one we see from the other side, a parent trying to reconect and fix his mistakes - Heck, even when we take away the Child vs Parent, we still have the concept Control vs Free Will, in that he was only a Weapon for the Hanar to control. (Edit: for some fucking reason I forgot Samara is a Mother and also her whole point is also about control vs free will. Go Brain 🤦🏻‍♀️)

But the Catalyst does not see any of this. It appears to disregard ALL other forms of conflict that can and have lead to annihilation of others - Javik himself says about how the Protheans would annihilate the species that don't conform and how there was this people that "found the secret for eternal peace" and then another came and decimated them. Conflict is a result of existence, usually because one wants to control others, but the Catalyst only sees "Organics versus Synthetics".

Why? I say the root for this is because The Catalyst was created by Leviathans, and as such, in their likeness of thought. And what we see about the Leviathans? The origin for indoctrination, focused on organics as far as we can see, in a more aggressive way - the miners had lost all awareness for ten years, the assistant lost all sense. The examples we see from Reaper Indoctrination are more insidious, if they aren't outright converting you on being a soldier for them; they make you think it's your choice, that they are right and so on. It's not outright stripping someone from all agency, not from the get go if it's not something that serves them. And, from what is implied, the Leviathans can't exercise the same control on synthetics, while the Reapers can.

The fact that the Leviathans can control others in such a way makes me think that, for whatever reason, they don't have conflicts between themselves. Maybe they are a hive mind or they have a queen-like controlling all of them, we don't have enough to say with certainty either, but the concept of conflict in itself is alien to them. It's very possible that they controlled all species that were under their thrall to not fight amongst themselves because, as they said, dead people don't pay tribute - I risk saying that when control was more spread amongst numerous individuals, there was more conscious thought going on in the controlled, or in the past it wasn't as heavy a hand as it's seen in the present. We don't have enough information for either. Again lol

Then the organics they controlled created AIs. And they couldn't control the AIs to not attack their organics. And, I would even risk, the root of their problem was probably because these organics also didn't have the tools to solve conflicts without controlling and stripping someone away of free will. They were controlled by the Leviathans, it was all they knew. But the AIs and synthetics created questioned, tested boundaries and so on.

As a consequence, the Leviathans assumed that the root of the problem was Synthetics versus Organics, and created an AI to solve this. And probably, considering that the Reapers can indoctrinate both organics and synthetics, they only wished or thought for the AI to control synthetics so they wouldn't attack organics. But the AI, at being in the likeness of the Leviathans, concluded that control was indeed necessary, that the conflict was inevitable; as a consequence, the solution it came with was to preserve the organics in Reaper form, being able to control both organics and synthetics, and guide civilizations in such way.

But since the Leviathans didn't have conflict amongst themselves, the AI Catalyst was biased. It didn't have examples of conflicts being solved by anything beyond control. That's why it was the only solution it could envision, because it assumed that Organics would always try to control Synthetics, and that Synthetics would always try to control Organics, and thus ending in annihilation. It couldn't envision cooperation of their own free will because the Leviathans couldn't envision so.

Which is fine. Being biased is understandable. It was created in the likeness of the Leviathans, the same the Geth were created in the likeness of the Quarians - eco-symbiothic, resulting in an AI that gains processing the more they are - and EDI in the likeness of humans. Heck, when we consider that in one of EDI conversations in ME3 she says that self-preservation is not her biggest directive anymore, but the people inside the Normandy, that she is not like the Reapers, we can compare to the Leviathan, that only created the AI because they needed tribute: it was about self-preservation, their OWN preservation was paramount, as it is shown in the fact that they have been hiding for who knows how long.

And the root of the problem of the talk with the Catalyst is that we can't say anything of the type to it. We can't say that conflict is natural and expected and that organics go through it ALL THE TIME between themselves but that it does not equal to annihilation. That compromise and common ground is possible and that children go through this all the time with their parents. That Control and stripping someone of Free-Will and Self-Determination is not the answer, because it usually only creates even more conflict, doesn't matter if between Organics and Synthetics, between Organics, between Synthetics, because at some point someone will fight against it. But cooperation is possible, and it is usually better (heck Javik says that this cycle is working because all species cooperate amongst themselves)

The whiplash and so many disliking the end, I risk, is more because we can't point any of this to the Catalyst. It's understandable its bias, even expected. It's frustrating that Shepard, a soldier that very much understands about how conflict is inevitable and how you solve it is what matters, can't say so, at least so the Catalyst would recognize "I'm not perfect. I was wrong."

Because even when we go along the lines of "this is Catalyst experiment to try and find the solution", I say that not all the data in the galaxy will help against deep-ingrained bias to interpret the data in this or that way. And that is what the Catalyst is: biased in a way of thinking where conflict in itself is unacceptable and a flaw, but is only being seen in one way because their creators couldn't see and experiment in other ways. But conflict is common and a part of existence, and it can be solved in ways where it reaches compromise, where it acknowledges free will, something constantly shown in the games. Just the Catalyst doesn't see it.

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #mass effect the catalyst

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