#you think I can’t do this stardiamond????? I know you like the back of my hand. I know everything about you

[zukkacore]

Since my brain is still stuck on Starbreaker fake dating au I honestly think I actually like more than fake dating is fake engagement because then you get the characters vamping when asked to come up with a proposal story

[italicized-oh]

hello hello and welcome back from academia hell!! tis lovely to see you, and I hope you're having the most wonderful of days/weeks <3 for prompts purposes, if you're interested: jace and porter attempting to do research on gods/ascension/divine rituals for the sake of The Plan? (how well this actually ends up going is of course a matter of debate)

you’ve activated my secret codes dear. Get ready for Research and Rituals, baby. They’re looking into the orphic cosmogony bc i have Issues. um. nsft and also light gore? but v v tame compared to our usual fare in this tag lmao

Jace feels Porter come up behind him and slumps backward against the wall of warmth. He knows the moan he lets out when Porter digs his thumbs into Jace’s shoulders is pornographic, and he doesn’t even care. He drops his head back against Porter’s stomach to look up at him.

“Did you know that Protogonos hatched from an egg, according to some Orphic hymns?” Porter hums, listening. “And then created all the other gods in that pantheon? Oh, yes, perfect, right there– and that some people believed there was a son of Persephone, who was raped by Zeus disguised as Hades, called Zagreus, who was torn limb from limb because Zeus– fuck, your hands, Porter– because Zeus was tricked, but Zagreus’ heart is saved and then implanted in Zeus’ thigh, and Dionysos is born from that? Fuck–” Jace cuts off with a high-pitched moan.

Porter keeps massaging, hums again, and leans down to kiss Jace on the forehead before whispering in his ear. “Sweetheart, if you’re asking to ride my thigh, you know the answer’s yes.”

Jace flails a hand backward to slap ineffectively at Porter. “No, you animal, I’m just saying, there’s about a million different ways people think people become gods, all of which are impractical. I’m getting nowhere– oh, fuck me–”

Porter bites the shell of Jace’s left ear. “Again, the answer is yes, starshine, but you can beg if you wanna.” 

Jace is torn between pulling away to make his point and collapsing further back into Porter, who’s now biting at Jace’s neck. “Stop– stop that, I’m working, or do you not– ohh, gods– do you not want to know how to actually become a god?”

Porter bites harder, worrying at the skin under Jace’s jaw. “Hmm, don’t tempt me, sweetheart. Can’t have you working without inspiration, after all. Seems to me anyways that the point is more that the story sounds good than that it makes sense.” Jace goes rigid under him, shooting straight up into Porter’s chin. “Ow, fucking hell, Stardiamond, can’t a man leave a hickey in peace around here?”

Jace slaps Porter’s shoulder. “Oh, hush, you ginormous baby. For once in your thick-headed life, I think you might be onto something.”

Porter wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, I’ll be onto something, all right. One more smart remark and you’ll find out just how onto something I can be.”

Jace snorts despite himself, failing to disguise a laugh. “Fine, fine, keep gnawing on me, what do I care. I’ve got a hymn to write, I guess. Fuck, I hate wizards. Why do they always have to reinvent the wheel? Blood sacrifices and orgies would’ve been so much fucking simpler– oh, gods, Porter, fuck me, holy fuck–”

“Sounds like you’re a natural at the hymn thing, sweetheart. Let’s see how much more work we can get done, hm?”

[iaus]

thinking about the idea of porter's humiliation kink being something jace has sat on for months and so after he broaches the subject to porter and porter immediately shuts it down he's just casually like "well, talking about it didn't work, as expected" and just proceeds to the next step of his thoroughly outlined plan to get porter to agree, but then like three days later he's in the teacher's lounge contemplating casting shatter on the coffee machine if it doesn't turn on within the next 30 seconds and some other aguefort teacher waltzes in like "okay WHAT is up porter's ass today, he's even more of a fucking weirdo today and his 'practical demonstrations' literally shook my whiteboard off the wall- uh. hello vice principal stardiamond" and jace doesn't even look at them, he just has the most vicious smirk on his face like "oh, fantastic. he's been thinking about it. that simplifies things. he'll come around soon enough"

god. i LOVE this exactly how i see it working out too. whenever jace is particularly... mean i tend to imagine it being post-shatterstar because unless it's epilogue jace i see him being just too mild to try this shit on porter beforehand. but.

y'know.

829 words.

The problem is, sometimes Jace has to wait Porter out.

It’s been a few months now since he first mentioned—casually—that, wasn’t it interesting, that Porter seemed to always fuck him harder when he was gasping, moaning about how, “You can give me more than that, can’t you—it’s all you’re good for, right. That means you can do better? Big boy like you—” the rest of what was said wasn’t really important. Usually, Porter was coming like a freight train and grabbing Jace’s dick so hard it felt almost offensive. Porter has been especially pissed off since Jace mentioned it. All hard, quick missionary fucks that left Jace a little more irritated than satiated. Which has finally come to a head this Friday afternoon as he’s staring at the horrible line-up of meetings he has for Monday.

The parking lot is near empty. Except for a familiar truck.

He'll have to get a substitute for his classes because for whatever reason, interim principals still have to teach their classes. His coffeemaker broke earlier today, so there’s a steady headache throbbing at his temples when his door opens. “I’m not having officer hours—”

“S’just me.”

Jace clenches his teeth so hard his jaw begins to ache. “Ah. Mr. Cliffbreaker.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Porter steps into the room and immediately dwarfs everything in Jace’s ten-by-ten office. Jace fixes him with an annoyed look. “Listen—about last night.”

Jace narrows his eyes. “Which part of it.”

Porter’s been a nightmare these past few weeks—like he usually gets when he’s ramping up to something. There’s something about the ambrosia that’s been affecting Porter lately. Or at least that’s his excuse. Porter, for the first time since their fling began, faltered when he was fucking Jace. Mid thrust he stopped, hand squeezing Jace’s side so hard he left bruises, and pressed his forehead to Jace’s spine as he listened to Porter stroking himself. To no avail.

It had gone on for long enough that Jace had snapped, annoyed and on the edge of orgasm, What—did you forget what to do? Porter had squeezed harder, thumb pressing hard into Jace’s hip. What good are you for if you can’t fuck me?

Porter had snarled, seemingly over whatever mental block he had, and fucked back into Jace with a renewed vigor—teeth in Jace’s shoulder. He’d come, messy, over Jace’s back but seemed no less relieved. He’d still been pissed—so much so that he was inattentive, rushing to get Jace off to seem to put the matter to bed.

Jace had let him know afterwards that Porter had given him the absolute worst orgasm of his life.

And that included the tiefling he slept with in college.

Maybe saying that had been what started the fight. (It was.) The spiral had lasted into the early hours of morning—got a complaint from Jace’s neighbor and a loud threat to call the police on them. At that point, Jace had been mollified. He had bruises going up one side that felt better than the horrid orgasm and Porter was clenching his jaw, Lichtenberg scars skating up his arm from where Jace had grabbed him and let loose.

Porter hasn’t healed the scars on his arm. Jace considers him.

He leans back in his chair, spreads his legs—tracks the way that Porter follows the movement.

“So. Are you apologizing?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here, Porter.”

Jace learned early on, Porter’s an unfortunate stereotype. He believes in action over words. Making it up to someone over saying sorry—though, Jace suspects he wouldn’t have been drawn to Porter if he was the type to say sorry.

He knows he’ll never get an apology for his murder—for the shatterstar glowing in his chest that tends to send him into frenzies of hungry, clawing rage. But usually, Porter can at least fuck him hard enough to calm him down.

The soft click of his door locking is familiar. He’s had his blinds drawn since he heard Lucilla and Hopclap muttering about Porter nearly putting a hole in the wall of his classroom with practical demonstrations.

He expects Porter to grab him—fit his palms along the bruises he left—and throw him on his desk, send his paperwork scattering. What he doesn’t expect is Porter to slowly—hesitantly, almost—get to his knees, press between the spread v of Jace’s legs.

Porter’s sucked him off before—rarely. He usually only put his mouth on him when he wants something particular. Jace shifts, rolls his hips into the press of Porter’s hands. He could cast detect thoughts—make it easier for the both of them.

Porter presses his mouth to Jace’s crotch.

Jace has a feeling.

He throws a leg over Porter’s shoulder. “Why do you think I want your filthy mouth on my clothes.”

Porter groans—moves back to undo Jace’s pants.

Jace smiles, all teeth. “Better.”

(Thank fuck it’s a Friday.)

[kipperlillycopperkettle]

OH. MORE QUESTIONS BC THEY CAME TO MY BRAIN. do any of the tributes know each other cross district, from the years between when they originally won and the quell of the fic? (like I'm assuming that the ones from the same district know one another, but have any inter-district winner friendships formed that then come into play?) AND. favorite line and/or scene you've written so far, and favorite line and/or scene you have yet to write (but are excited about?)

oooh! oh! so technically none of the tributes know each other, bc even though i am using 75 as the year the games happen, the twist is that of haymitch's games in thg canon (double the tributes). BUT victor friendships are my favorite thing in the whole whole world to write about sooooo here are some of my fave cross-district victor dynamics in this fic anyway! jace stardiamond and halo st croix (yes i KNOW brennan said halo the paladin teacher was an older man. no i don't care; my version of halo is a younger female victor. if anyone asks halo st croix (the canon old man) is her dad. and he gave her the exact same name. don't worry about it), jace and porter (is this friendship? don't worry about it. they're weird about each other in this au too. bc it's fun for me), halo and zara sool. also i haven't written about it a lot but bill seacaster and karl cleaver won back to back and i think they're besties. tbh. honestly i need to do more with the victor friendships bc i think about them a LOT in thg canon.

honestly my favorite scenes so far are all the final showdown scenes i think? but there's also an adaine post victory scene that was one of the first scenes i wrote that feels very strong and i still really like; any time fabian interacts with cathilda is so fun to write; i've got a porter and fig scene after she wins that i really like too?

i've got a corsica and kristen scene brewing in the back of my mind i'm really excited to write, and i haven't actually written this/am not exactly sure what scenes i need, but i've been rotating riz in this au a lot in my head lately.

also for fave lines i'll put a favorite (non spoilery) line below the cut from each section just for u <33333

send me asks about spyreverse thg au!

“the other tributes aren’t the most deadly people in the games, fig. it’s everyone else. they’ll all be watching you, and good luck if you step out of line, even just a little bit. from this second on, everything you do is a performance.”

“her motions are graceful and lithe, and in what is, you are pretty sure, is one of the last things you will ever think, you think that she is beautiful in the same kind of way that a well-oiled machine is beautiful, even as she hurls a knife at your throat.”

“the expression on zara's face looks very much as though she would like to rip hercules daybreak’s throat out with her teeth.”

“a flicker of a furrow appears on hallariel's brow. it’s the closest she’s come to making a facial expression in years.”

“adaine thinks, not for the first time, that dulled barbs and sympathetic glances are the closest the two of them will ever get to love.”

“riz can see the tears burning in her eyes, and he’s vaguely aware of a burning in his own eyes, but pushes the feeling down, trying to ignore it. he has to be strong for his mom. he can’t let her last memory of him be of him crying.”