#like hunger games but less glamorous

[louisetaylor]

Picrew: Fantasy icon maker

This one doesn't have a name. She was conscripted into a war that never ends. As you can see, she's tired and worn out from the long winter's fight. May be depressing but I find this cathartic somehow. Are the humans fighting fairies or monsters? Does her iron helmet protect her? Iron helmets usually do that...

[littlemsshoney]

Hannibal obsessed with one of his patients

Hannibal Lecter × patient!reader

Warnings: unhealthy dynamics, obssesive relationship, slight stalking, Hannibal being emotionally manipulative, mental health issues (he caused)

At first you were just another patient, a potential pawn or a future extravagant dinner he would enjoy some Friday night. Another lost and troubled soul that was unfortunate enough to find him.

There was something about you that caught his eye. The way you talked, the way you carried yourself.

However his interest grew like a forest fire, a burning insatiable hunger consumed him more and more with each one of your sessions.

He started taking notes of every little detail of your life and with some research of his own he soon knew every aspect of your life. Where you live, where you work, who your friends are, which cafe you spend your Saturday morning everything in.

He knew that he should feel bad for crossing such a line between a therapist and a patient but he didn’t really. After all, it wasn't that hard. With your social media your life was practically an open book for everyone to read and enjoy and if he didn’t then he was sure someone else did.

Only the thought made him angry. It wasn’t about your safety but more about his hurt ego. He had his eye on you, no one else should change that and he should make it known.

Of course he had always been a fan of traditional courting so don’t be confused when you start bumping into him in the most random places at some point with the excuse of cheering you up even being invited to one of his glamorous dinner parties. All of those situations you tried to avoid and refuse gracefully, not because of being aware of his true intentions but rather because you knew there was a thin line you shouldn’t cross.

So you didn't leave him any other way. He truly wanted to be gentle and kind with you and treat you like the precious, vulnerable creature you were in his mind but you just won’t have it the easy way, will you?

The thought of being patient- one of the tarits he awlways took pride on- now felt like a real torture. He wanted to consume you whole. There was something about you that reflected some part of him, an unknown familiarity of your pain. He wanted to break you down, then pick up your parts and build you up. Then do it all over again.

Your sessions were heavy at least. Raw honesty from your part and emotional manipulation from his all to serve the creation of an intense bond, a codependent relationship.

Your wellbeing and mental health had turned into a chess game and the game was anything but fair. In less than two months your whole well being was hanging from a thread and only he could help you or tear you apart.

One can only imagine the sadistic pleasure he took from your vulnerability and pain. Comfortably he sat at his armchair watching as you fell apart in front of him each week feeling worse and worse. All he had to do was just watch and enjoy, proud of his creation.

In his free time he recalled how beautifully you cried, so broken and desperate for him to fix you but all he wanted was lick your tears and take you in. He imagined you being under him, crying - from pleasure - his name rolling off your tongue over and over again.

Soon he had you feeling as if the whole world had turned against you. You couldn’t even trust your own judgement, you had cut ties with most of your friends -Dr Lecter advised you that none of them were genuine-you had become more and more isolated, you felt like you’re turning paranoid.

And then the final act of his play

“I’m really sorry I didn’t know where else to go” and like clockwork you deliberately walked onto his trap, basically sealing your own fate. All he had to do now is hold his door wide open for you to come in.

And then checkmate. That eventful evening standing on the doorstep of the only person you thought truly cared about you. He let you in and like a wounded bird he took you into his arms with such generosity and kindness in contrast to everyone else in your life. The irony.

“It will all be alright”

You wrap your arms around him, holding onto him for dear life, holding onto the only person that seems to understand you and actually wants to help you. As you cry on his shoulder he rests his chin on your head and gently caresses your hair.

Despite your persistence to resist him you are finally giving in. He kisses the crown of your head and though you know it is wrong you let him. You would let him do anything to keep him and he knows it.

Frozen in place you close your eyes as he kisses your forehead, then your eyes and cheek. You know what comes next yet you do not pull away, you don't resist what’s inevitable. A second passes and he doesn’t move, you open your eyes to see him staring at your lips. Now you know you want it, you feel his hunger as your own and you’re starving for it.

Grabbing him by his expensive tie you kiss him, not gently as he did but with desperation and need to be seen and understood.

Pleased he lets you have control just this once for the rest of your time together. He knew you would soon come to realise it’s only him you ever needed.

[shut-up-hope]

one of the main things i dont like that the hunger games movie didnt include was how different cinna was from the rest of the capitol. the outfit described in the first book is kept in — cinna’s always presented as less glamorous than the rest of the capitol, with minimal makeup and nothing too shining to wear — but everything else is left for the audience to interpret.

i do understand why such a decision was made — to keep the movie as short and as precise as possible. however, one thing i wish they added was the fact that the 74th hunger games was cinna’s first time ever as a stylist. this is an important fact because in catching fire, his only second year in being a stylist, he puts his life on risk for katniss.

cinna’s eyes were on katniss from the moment he saw her volunteer. he was a true friend. he had so much trust in katniss and her future accomplishments. it’s sad that most of this was taken away in the movie.

[imagine-you]

I'm Coming For You and I'm Making War [Johanna Mason/Reader] (4/5)

Summary: An orphan from District 10 was no one's pick to win the 68th Hunger Games, but you managed to prove them wrong. You're not impressed with the glitz and glamor of the Capitol and you certainly don't want any of the expectations that come with being a Victor. Not even Finnick Odair's friendship can make you feel any less alone until you meet Johanna Mason. She's everything you didn't know you needed, but when rebellion stirs in the districts after Katniss Everdeen's act of defiance in the 74th Hunger Games that guaranteed not only her survival but Peeta Mellark's as well, it turns out that you might have to face Johanna, Finnick, and everyone you've grown to care about in the 75th Hunger Games. Word Count: 14k Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who has given this a chance so far. Thank you also for everyone's patience in waiting for the next chapter. Mockingjay will be split into two chapters as well, so the next chapter will be the last one. Please let me know by commenting/leaving kudos if you liked this. Low reader engagement has killed so much of my motivation for fics before and I'm genuinely nervous about this one.

Previous Chapters

Chapter Four

[bakugotrashpanda]

Tribute!Touya x Stylist!OC Word Count: 4.5k

Hunger Games AU

A/N: This was supposed to be a couple paragraphs, but here we are. No beta we die like men. Thank you @t-tomuras for the inspiration <3 I know it’s supposed to be self-ship, but I put an OC in for my comfort.

They escaped the Reaping only to be pulled back in.

The games have gotten boring. There's no shock in seeing kids fight each other in the arena any more. Sure, it serves as a reminder of the past and shows that no matter where someone is from, given the right circumstances, anyone can kill. Barbaric. But… the glamor of voyeurism, of watching kids suffer mentally and physically as entertainment, has lost its spark.

But pushing the age range for the reaping back? Giving kids more time to hope and dread, to understand what they're losing once they have a taste of a future – their future? Ripping families apart at an age where maybe someone is losing their parent rather than a sibling? Cruelly putting a decade of adults who thought they escaped the horrors of the Capital back into the running of dying? Delicious. 

At least in the jaded eyes of the Capital.

For Touya Todoroki though, it’s a chance for him to finally live up to his father’s expectations. Living in District 2 has its perks – if you’re seeking glory in death. The finest training establishments for Peacekeepers also means the finest training for careers who want to put their names in the stars or die trying. Touya wouldn’t even have to sneak into these facilities if he wanted that; he’d just need to throw his last name around and every door would open for him.

Special benefits of being a colonel’s son.

But he was never interested. He skated through life putting his name on the stupid ring out of some sense of duty and familial pressure only for it never to be drawn because some other idiot volunteers. Usually it was multiple idiots all clamoring to be first. 

He escapes his teenaged years unscathed. 

Adulthood means nothing to him. There’s no sweet relief he knows other districts must feel now that they have one less thing to worry about – for now, nor is there any bitter resentment at losing the opportunity at doing something great and having the eyes of the country on you. Life just… goes on. 

When faced with the prospect of needing a job, Touya’s options were to follow his father’s footsteps and become a low level military grunt and rise through the ranks, or join the miners in the quarries. 

It was a never-ending tirade from his father about how he ‘wasted his potential’ and ‘humiliated the family name’ by going into the quarries.

A couple years passed. Touya finally got a place of his own, left a string of broken hearts, and generally felt unsatisfied with life. There has to be more to living than just waking up, working, joining his coworkers at the bar, and then going back to his shitty apartment at the end of the day to wake up and start it all over again.

And then the rules change. It happens mid-shift. A roar rises above the normal work noise. He thinks it’s another truck rolling over – that would be the second one this week. But the angry cries work their way down the line to where he’s stationed. 

We’re back in the Reaping.

Fear. Chaos. Anger. 

Everyone around him is in a tizzy. And Touya feels numb. Back in the Reaping?

The site clears out. People panic and run home to hear it for themselves and not through the grapevine. 

Touya goes to the best source he can (unfortunately) think of; the Todoroki household.

Tensions are high.

His brother and sister sit ramrod straight around a rarely used dinner table that is more for show than anything else. Fuyumi fiddles with the locket around her neck – pictures of her new child no doubt. Natsuo’s clenched fists on the table are stark white causing the onyx band on his ring finger to stand out even more.

“It’s true,” his father says quietly. “You’re all back in the Reaping.”

Silence. 

Tears trickle down Fuyumi’s face.

As adults, there will be less bravado about volunteering. Less people will want to willingly leave their lives behind and–

“I’ll volunteer.” Shouto. Perfect fucking Shouto. Of course he would. Touya has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“You’ll make me proud,” their father says and fondly claps him on the shoulder. 

That’s that. Everyone disperses back to their own homes. If Shouto volunteers, then that’s the boys taken care of. If Fuyumi’s name gets picked, then she’s shit out of luck.

So why does Touya stand tall on the day of the Reaping? Why does his voice ring out loud and clear after the introductions are done? Why do his feet carrying him onto the stage?

Standing next to the announcer, his gaze flicks from his stunned brothers to his father. That’s why. Watching his father try and fail to control his bitter rage, his face turning dark shades of crimson. That’s why he did it. To rob him of what should’ve been a proud moment in his life.

There’s a mic in his face. He stares at the announcer who’s hungry for an answer.

“Your bravery,” they start again, “What motivates you?”

He looks at the screen behind him and smirks. He’s no longer the scrawny teenager internally mocking all the tributes. His years working have filled out his formerly lanky frame. 

“To show that the Todoroki name means something,” he answers condescendingly, “And that I’m not wasting my potential.”

There’s an outburst from the stands. He refuses to look. He knows who it is. It would only be the cherry on top if his old man keeled over and died from anger right here right now.

He did it. He volunteered. 

What a stupid fucking mistake. 

His goodbyes are awful and he spends most of it deflecting questions from his family. Yes, he’s aware Shouto was going to volunteer. No, he doesn’t have any remorse for what he did. Yes, he definitely is thinking of family, just not in the way they’re implying. Will he survive and win? That’s to be determined. 

His father doesn’t make an appearance.

The short train ride to the Capitol is spent silently with the mentors and the other tribute. His counterpart seems… alright. She has some training  and a determination that’ll maybe help her live past the first day. What can Touya do? Explosives. Operate heavy machinery. Swing a hammer. How much different can a skull be from a rock?

Peacekeepers escort them to a processing center with sterile white walls and bright overhead lights that give Touya a headache. How many of them were trained by his father?

The tributes from 1 arrive at the same time as them. He gets a glimpse of the duo before being whisked away to a slightly less off-putting room. A woman with matte black lipstick and electric blue hair styled in an angular bob waits inside.

He can feel her calculating brown eyes rove up and down his body. Taking stock.

“Like what you see?” Touya says sarcastically. She doesn’t respond, but walks up to him, the slightly dimmer light reflecting off the gold lining her gray suit.

The woman extends her hand. “Alex. Your stylist.”

“Great,” says Touya, ignoring her hand. “Just what I need. Fashion.”

Alex pulls out a tablet and a laser pointer of sorts and starts circling Touya. “Think of me as your personal storyteller,” she says and taps away on her tablet before returning to scanning him. “I use your body to tell the world about you.”

“I’m not one of the children you can dress up like a doll.”

“Good. No one needs another sob story in the lineup. There are enough people leaving spouses and kids behind that’ll try and use that to their advantage.” She stops in front of him and shines the laser from his left to his right shoulder. From this close he can see the layers of makeup the Capitol is renowned for. “Tell me you’re more interesting than that.”

“Got no wife, and no kids with my name.” Maybe a bastard or two, but who’s counting?

“And what do you do in 2?”

“Quarry work.”

“Which is?”

“You’re fuckin’ annoying. Rocks. Demolition.”

“Why not military? Your father is up there, right?”

“You do your homework,” Touya smirks, “I was on a train for less than two hours after I volunteered.”

“I have to in order to be good at my job.”

Touya crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s your real question?”

A smirk crinkles her supposedly flawless facade. “Why volunteer?”

“To be every bit the disappointment my father expects me to be. One final ‘fuck you’ just for him.”

Alex stands there for a moment tapping one perfectly manicured nail against her thigh. Lost in thought, she chews on her bottom lip for a second, the black lipstick coming off at the inner edge to reveal her natural lip underneath.

Fuck he wants to smear it. Take the perfection of the Capitol and ruin it any way he can. 

“I can make this work,” she says determinedly and taps furiously at her tablet. “Your first appearance isn’t for a couple days. I want something bold; something that’ll make everyone stop and stare and the first volunteer and wonder what was going through his head.”

“Don’t dress me up like a fucking gladiator,” Dabi says. He recalls that being the go-to in the past – a show of strength and closeness to the Capitol. Gaudy. 

Brown eyes meet his, and fingers that were flying fast over the screen are still for a second. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Back to work.

“Then what, want me to show you my work uniform?” Because nothing says ‘I’m here to win’ like beige coveralls.

“I have bigger plans for you. You’re not going to be something as archaic as a gladiator, and I’m certainly not playing up to your district’s masonry export. If I wanted that I’d go to 12 and deal with the coal mines.” She turns her tablet off and tucks it away to stare up at him. There’s a small spark in eyes otherwise devoid of life. “I know about the secret export that the Capitol overlooks. We’re going military chic.”

Touya’s face crunches into a sneer. “Why don’t you raid my father’s closet, there’s nothing but uniforms in there.”

“You do a good job of looking like a stuffy asshole on your own,” she counters. “I’ll make you look good. You just need to focus on making sure you can win.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Touya says sarcastically. 

Alex goes to the door and knocks twice. “I have full confidence in you Touya — if you want it, I believe you can win it all.”

The Peacekeepers return and escort him to the training grounds. More like a prison with shiny luxuries meant to distract them from the fact that they’re going to die in a few short weeks. 

When the tributes are rounded up the following day, they’re brought back to the harshly lit facility. Alex waits for him again in their room, hands clasped behind her back. Wisps of bright blue hair purposely fall out of the two buns at her neck and barely graze the white dress covering her lightly tan skin. The loose material is cinched at her waist with a thick golden belt. 

For someone who doesn’t want to dress her tribute as a gladiator, she pulls off the toga-esque dress well.

Alex raises an eyebrow and nods to a clothing rack beside her. Touya approaches it and nearly drops the only thing hanging there on the floor when he realizes what it is.

“You can’t be serious,” Touya says.

Alex’s smile drips with overwhelming sweetness that sets Touya on edge. “Today is all about you and making you look good. That’s what you’ll wear today. I’ll step out of the room for three minutes.” Her dress flows behind her as she walks out of the room.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Touya mutters to himself. Regardless, he pulls the clothing off the hanger and strips.

The black, lightweight bodysuit bends easily with him. He gives a couple test jumps with no hindrance. Black boots with thick soles remind him of his work boots – but much better quality. Something the Capitol can no doubt afford. A subtle dark blue honeycomb pattern runs throughout the suit and is only noticeable in the light. Silver metal plates are seamlessly worked into the chest area, forearms, and various points in the back.

There’s a small knock at the door. Alex slips back inside, her eyes greedily roving over Touya’s body again. The corner of her gold stained lips quirks up briefly.

“Is this it?” Touya asks. He extends an arm and moves his bare wrist around. A pair of gloves would help. Immediately he drops his arm. Help? Help what? This is just for show. It won’t help him in the arena.

“I have some accessories to try out over there.” Alex points to a table Touya didn’t notice before in the opposite corner. “You’re my dress up doll today.”

“And this?” Touya gestures to his outfit.

“You’re the future of Peacekeepers.” Alex reaches a hand out and hesitates. She meets Touya’s gaze and hesitantly asks, “Can I?”

He nods and fights the heat rising up his face.

“Naturally, it’s functional,” Alex says confidently. Her nails tap against the metal plating on his forearm. “In a real fight, this would help protect you without the clunkiness the current Peacekeepers have.”

“And protect the vital organs.” Touya can’t help but notice the not so decorative metal covering certain parts of his body.

Alex smiles impishly. “Precisely. Titanium-reinforced plating protects key organs, and a strong reinforced weave body suit resists knife and other close combat weapons.”

Touya frowns. This could actually be for a Peacekeeper in the future. Is he just her toy to promote her fashion line or whatever?

He should be angry. He should tear it all off and wear a his fucking work uniform. He’s going to die, and she’s using him as a model.

But it doesn’t matter. He agreed to this. He volunteered for this. And so what if she wants to use him?

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does…

“If you’re trying to get on my father’s good side to gain his favor, you chose the wrong son to align yourself with,” Touya says bitterly.

“Why would I get on his good side?” Alex tilts her head, “You’re doing this for whatever personal vendetta you have against him.”

“And possibly outfitting the future Peacekeepers hadn’t crossed your mind?” he quips.

“Of course it did,” she snorts, “But I have other avenues for that if I really want to. For now, I enjoy the freedom I get with you tributes.”

Freedom. Tributes. How ironic.

Alex floats over to her accessory table and comes back with a pair of black gloves lined with silver. “Put these on.”

She flits back and forth between the table and Touya, holding up various tools and having him put things on and take things off. It feels like an hour of bartering for different accouterments. No, the belts are overkill. Yes, the gun and knife harnesses are fine. Yes, kneepads are bulky, but they’d be practical. No, he will absolutely not wear anything that covers his neck entirely.

He thinks it’s over and he can go – where? He doesn’t know. Anywhere but here – but Alex drags Touya over to a full length mirror. He’s startled by his own appearance. Alex wanted military chic, and she delivered in a cyber punk, dystopian way. He looks like he should wear a faceless mask and keep the masses bent through fear.

He looks like a minion trained by his father.

He looks like someone his father would be proud of.

Brilliant blue fills the lower half of his vision. Standing on her tiptoes, Alex runs her hands through his hair. Her nails scrape his scalp lightly and send shivers down his spine. This close, he can smell her perfume — an amber and rose mix. To someone who has no time for luxuries like perfume, it’s an assault on his senses, but by Capitol standards it’s rather lackluster. 

“What’re you doing?” he murmurs before clearing his throat and asking the question again in a harsher tone. 

She frowns and runs her hand through his hair again, pinning it back between her fingers. “Trying to figure out how I want your hair styled,” she says absently. 

“Wouldn’t the mirror be better for that?” He gestures at the enhanced mirror, no doubt recording his every move. 

With a huff, Alex steps back and plants her hands on her hips. “Is that what you want?”

No. 

“It’ll make this go faster.”

“Fine.” Alex taps the mirror and pulls him over. Bright lights illuminate his face. Alex taps his hair on the reflection and a menu pops up. “I was thinking about having it slicked back or parted instead of this spiky mess you leave it in.”

She swipes through a couple hairstyles, pausing on a couple to see his reaction. 

Touya turns his head on a couple and stares at his augmented reflection. Slicked back doesn’t look half bad. Parted is a no go.

“I look like my brother like this,” Touya grimaces at the near perfect Natsuo hairstyle, “But slicked is fine.”

Alex studies his reflection. With a wave of her hand everything resets. 

“One more option.” Pulling up a color wheel she drags the color selector to black. Touya watches his hair change from stark white to inky black. “Keep it styled as you have it and change the color. Then during your interview go with slicked back.”

Hair dye?

He does look sinister with it. Deadly. 

“Do it.”

It’s a whirlwind of activity before the parade. Lambs being led to the slaughter.

He’s harnessed into the chariot with the other District 2 tribute who sports a similarly designed suit. Her hair is pulled back in a low bun and her face is caked with enough makeup to be mistaken for a Capitol native.

They’re the second ones in. Cheers and roars from the audience and the warm sun slam into him. When was the last time he felt the sun? On the day of the Reaping?

A round camera flies with them, zooming in on their outfits and faces. Without thinking, Touya raises a hand and makes a finger gun. This one’s for you, old man. Pulling the ‘trigger’, he smirks and goes back to ignoring the device. The crowd’s reaction is deafening.

He ignores the other chariots coming to a rest beside them. He ignores the President and his speech. He ignores the audience. 

Calm.

Cool

Collected.

Keep a level head.

Survive. 

With a jolt, his chariot is following District 1’s out. 

He’s plunged back into darkness and artificial lighting.

Unhooking himself, he hops down and purposefully walks back to his room. Keep the facade going as long as possible.

Silence is just as bad as thousands of people cheering for him.

Amber and rose teasing his nose is the only warning he gets before warm arms wrap around his neck. “Genius! Pure genius.” Alex’s hands trail down his arms. “You made this work for you and the audience loved it.”

He lets her prattle on but doesn’t listen. Instead, his eyes follow the curve of her cheeks and the spark in her eye. There’s even flecks of gold in her irises. How much of her is actually her and how much is changed for the Capitol? Does it really matter? He drinks up her essence and commits it to memory. 

A week passes. Much like the Peacekeepers training in his district, Touya’s kept to a tight schedule. Eat. Sleep. Train. There’s more to it though – layers and layers of politics; impressing the right people, finding allies to fight alongside, measuring up threats.

Trying not to get to know the people he’ll have to kill.

It’s after a brutal day of training when Alex whirls into the room, her eyes ablaze. 

“I heard you took a beating in training today,” she says. Walking over to the wall, she pushes a panel and drags a hidden clothing rack out.

“Is that concern I hear?” Touya taunts.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Bossy,” he scoffs but lifts his shirt knowing full well that if he doesn’t do it, she’ll do it for him. He turns and tosses his shirt in a corner.

“You have your final interview tonight and I need to see if there are bruises where-” There’s a pause. Touya smirks. He knows what she’s seen. “There’s a tattoo.”

One he got as soon as he was old enough and had the money. The first thing he purchased on his own. A dragon that starts at his left shoulder and wraps around his back, crosses his abdomen, and ends below the belt. “And?”

“I didn’t know you have a tattoo,” she says bluntly. He watches her eyes follow the scales wrapping around his hip. “How… How far does it go?”

“Interested in what’s below the belt?”

“I’m interested in how I can use it.”

“In that case, find out for yourself.” Touya expects some banter – a witty retort telling him where he can shove it. But nothing comes. With a sigh he pats the end of the art. “The tail ends on my thigh.”

“Okay. Okay.” Alex says, hands clasped together tightly in front of her mouth. Even with all her makeup, Touya can see the flustered glow rising in her cheeks. “I can work with this.” A pause. “I can work with this.”

“You sound so confident,” Touya says sarcastically. That gets her attention.

“I am a professional,” she snaps back, but it seems to be more of a reminder for herself. She clears her throat and marches over to him. Her eyes pinpoint every bruise on his chest from training. “I’ll cover those up, but we’re leaving your art on display for everyone to see.”

“What, no shirt?”

“No,” she smirks, “You’ll have a shirt… of sorts.”

Turns out ‘of sorts’ means ‘mesh shirt under a leather jacket. Much to Touya’s chagrin, his verbal sparring partner remained quiet during their time together – only answering questions when he asked.

In the end, Touya ends up in leather pants and jacket with neon blue lighting at the seams. Even his boots from the parade were updated with the same strips of light. The only alteration Alex made on site was removing the zipper of the jacket and installing more lights in its place to keep it open and exposing just enough of his tattoo to pique Caesar Flickerman’s curiosity.

True to her word, Alex slicks back Touya’s hair for the interview.

And as usual, he’s impressed with her work.

They’re the first ones to gather at the studio. The other tributes trickle in with their mentors and stylists, but Touya ignores them all. The general buzz of noise around him doesn’t compare to the frustrating silence between him and Alex.

“I don’t know what they’re going to ask, but the vibe I’m going for is ‘play boy’,” Alex finally says. “Make the women want you, and the men want to be you. Confident. Charismatic. Charm the money out of their accounts.”

He lets her ramble for a minute more before sweeping up both her hands in one of his own. Wide brown eyes framed by blue hair stare at him.

She’s shaking.

“Stop,” he says in a gruff voice. “You’re worrying. Where did the confident stylist who wanted to take on supplying the Peacekeepers go?”

“This is your last chance to make a good impression before you go in the arena tomorrow. You need them to like you,” she blurts out. As if he didn’t already know that.

“Whatever happens happens,” he shrugs. “Pull yourself together.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

He hears his name and thunderous applause. Dropping her hands, Touya steps back.

“It’s my time.”

“Good luck,” she whispers. Was that meant for his ears? He almost stops. Almost. But she’s right, he needs all the money he can finesse out of these people.

The day of the Games is a somber affair. A bodysuit waits at the foot of his bed for him, and he wonders for a moment when that arrived. He pulls it on and waits silently in his room. No doubt his counterpart is in the main dining area with the mentors going over strategy. He should be there too. But starting this afternoon it’ll be just him.

So why not start being by himself earlier.

He even opts to wait in the arena loading zone by himself. Until Alex arrives to make last minute appearance alterations.

“No special outfit for me today?” Touya asks and gestures to his bodysuit.

“No.”

Right. And he knew that too, but damn, any conversation would be appreciated right now. “Any advice?”

“Don’t die.”

A voice booms through the intercom in the room. Two minutes, tributes.

“Alex.” Desperation rises in his gut. “Kiss me.” Don’t let the last thing I hear and see of you be misery.

“What?” Deep brown eyes filled with pain stare up at him. Fuck. It hurts to see. It’s not the first time he’s left a woman with that look on her face before, but dammit why did it have to be her?

“Just once, before I die.” He’s not pleading. Touya Todoroki doesn’t beg. “You can’t refuse a dying man’s wish.”

“Touya,” Alex smiles faintly, “You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re going to win.”

“Alex…” 

“I know you will,” Alex says fiercely. “You have to.” He hates the way her voice starts to break and quaver. “I… I don’t want to watch you die.”

“Why?”

Say it.

“You know why.”

“You’ll regret it if you don’t say it now.”

Say it. For me.

The intercom goes off again. One minute, tributes.

“I won’t ask ag-”

Soft lips are on his. He wraps his arms around her body and pulls her close. Fuck the Peacekeepers in the room. He’s going to die, and he’s going to enjoy this last moment with Alex.

Nails rake through his hair and elicit a groan from him. He digs his nails in and deepens the kiss. One minute feels like an eternity, but Touya takes it all – her taste, her scent, her sounds – and commits it to memory. Breaking the salty kiss, he stands on the pad and watches the glass casing come down around him at the last second.

Drying her tears, Alex beams at him. Probably trying to stay strong until I’m gone. “Come back to me, Touya.”

And maybe he will.

[scarlettscribbles]

a little help from your family (1/2)

PART OF neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons by the sea DRABBLE SERIES ↠ masterlist

- Lucy Gray Baird & Daughter!OC, endgame Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow

Summary: 1.4k words - Tigris meets her niece.

a/n: adding a tags-list for all those that want to be updated when i update this drabble series! just comment below or send me an ask

tags-list: @cdragons

Coryo came back from District 12 triumphant but different. Tigris had expected him to come back with the Victor girl — with his Victor girl — but he only came back with an emptiness in his eyes, molding him into a man that was supposed to be long dead.

It sowed the seeds of fear in her, fear that she tried so hard to smother because that was her boy. That was her Coryo. The little cousin who clung to her so tightly during the nights when hunger pains would send them crying, the boy who’d sought out her comfort time and time again, who’d come to her first with every achievement. She’d once told him that he could be good, something she’d wholeheartedly believed at the time, but now… Now it’s less of a belief and more of a desperate hope.

Their penthouse grew brighter and more opulent. Their fridge was always stocked, sometimes obscenely so. Grandma’am glowed with happiness and Tigris tried her best to mimic the same. Oh for certain there were good times, still. The day Coryo surprised her with a sewing machine and a chest full of rich fabrics and materials, he’d been so giddy and proud, looking to her for approval. Tigris had given it to him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek. They had passed the time talking— well, it was mostly Tigris talking, ranting about the new designs she was going to be able to try out, flitting about the room and showing Coryo her sketches for him.

The moment had been cut short when an alarm rang, reminding Coryo of a meeting with Dr. Volumnia Gaul.

Moments like that were few and far in between. As Coryo grew more powerful, the distance between grew, the space in his life that provided him guidance occupied by someone else. Someone who had been able to help him more than Tigris could, despite her best efforts. Being displaced was such a sore feeling. Tigris hated Dr. Volumnia Gaul for pouring poison in Coryo’s ears, but she knew that Coryo had made a choice too.

Tigris drowned herself with work, using her creations as some sort of escape. She became proficient and famous enough to no longer work under Fabricia, likely thanks in part of Coryo’s influence who had been insistent that he only wore out clothes of her making. Tigris found a temporary joy in it, that was, until Coryo informed her that he found a spot for her as a designer in the upcoming 11th Hunger Games.

It made her sick. All the new "improvements" to the Games made her sick. The Capitol loved it, of course. As if the glitz and glamor can cover up the mountain of dead bodies and the smell of blood.

Her only consolation had been Mrs. Plinth, who she’d grown close to. She was sympathetic to the tributes, though highly cautious of expressing it. More so since her son had died, Tigris thought.

Her first tribute was a kind girl from District 4 who later went on to win, to Tigris’ guilty relief. On their first meeting, Mags Flanagan asked her about Lucy Gray Baird. Tigris nearly cried at that moment, feeling grateful that someone else besides her still remembered the songs and colors of the girl who changed her life.

Coryo’s constant brushing off of her questions regarding Lucy Gray had made Tigris fretful of the fate of the young woman, thinking that he might have done something to her. There must have been something that happened to turn the smitten boy with lovesick eyes into a hateful, unyielding man whenever Lucy Gray was mentioned.

“It was a lapse of judgment, Tigris. We realized we had diverging paths. I wanted to go back here in the Capitol and she—“ He turned away from her, but not before she got a glimpse of the strange look on his face. “She wanted to sing in the woods forever.”

It was not long after that that Tigris decided to move out of their penthouse and into the apartment above her own shop. She had felt guilty for doing so, leaving her Grandma’am in the primary care of Mrs. Plinth, but she made sure to visit often. Tigris hadn’t been sure if it was a good choice, but now…

“Is that you, Lucy Gray? Lucy Gray Baird?” Tigris asked before realizing the urgency of the situation. She didn’t wait for an answer, already ushering them in.

Lucy Gray smiled tiredly as Tigris led them into the waiting of her store. She immediately sat down, sighing as she shifted the bundle in her arms. Flaxen locks peeked from underneath the coat.

“Are— are you alright?” Lucy Gray looked no less beautiful than she had five years ago, last she’d seen her on the screen. She looked more mature now, though, sad and worried.

“Tigris I apologize for coming so suddenly. I know we don’t really know each other apart from whatever Coriolanus has said but I really, really don’t know where to go to.” she said in a rush, barely breathing between each word. “My daughter, my Annie, she’s sick and the doctor said she needed a heart transplant or else—“ Lucy Gray sobbed, a lone, heartbreaking sound. Tears streamed down her face.

“Lucy Gray breathe,” Tigris coaxed, hurriedly retrieving a piece of cloth from the scraps she had by her sewing machine. “I need you to breathe okay? I’m going to do my best to help you, but first I need you to breathe.”

Lucy Gray accepted the cloth, wiping her tears and composing herself. “I’m sorry again—“

“No need to apologize,” Tigris replied kindly, sitting across her visitors.

“I suppose introductions are in order,” Lucy Gray sniffed, sliding the hood of the coat of the bundle in her arms, kissing the child’s forehead before shifting them slightly so their face could be seen in the dim lighting. “This is my Annabel Rose Baird. She’s asleep now but she would love to meet you again when she’s awake.”

Tigris couldn’t hold back a gasp. “Oh, Coryo. What have you done?” Her mind ran wild with the possible reasons why Lucy Gray raised her daughter alone. "She looks a great deal like you."

"A great deal like him too," Lucy Gray responded. “Me and him, we weren’t planning on having Annie, it just kind of happened.

“See, we were supposed to go north to escape, to run away. He’d killed the mayor’s daughter, Mayfair, and another fella shot her boyfriend, Billy Taupe. The Peacekeepers were wantin’ to hunt down the culprits and the guns used. I was a major suspect since Mayfair hated me and Billy Taupe was my ex. I said I needed to go, he said he’d come with.

“While we were on the way, he told me he killed three people but I’d only known two of them. And he wouldn’t tell me the truth. I— I think it might have been Sejanus. Plinth. The other boy who’d been in the Peacekeepers with him? They played a recording when he was executed and he kept calling out for Coriolanus and his Ma when they hung him.” Lucy Gray shivered. “The mockingjays kept echoing his cries. It’s still in my nightmares even now.”

A small part of Tigris had suspected it, but to hear Lucy Gray’s confirmation was chilling. She felt so undeserving of the generosity of the Plinth’s.

“I wanted to tell him about Annie, I really did. For a moment, I entertained this fantasy of having a complete family, of my daughter never wanting for a missing presence in her life but, well, at that point I didn’t trust Coriolanus with anything. So I ran. Next I’d heard was him shoutin’ in the forest about me tryin’ to kill him. He started firing when he heard the mockingjays repeat my song.”

Tigris felt a bit sick at the onslaught of information. There was the difference between speculation and fact. “I’m sorry, Lucy Gray. I’m sorry that you had to do this alone.”

Lucy Gray looked at her daughter — Tigris’ niece, dear god — with so much love that it made her heart hurt. “It was fine. I wouldn’t have traded her for anything,” she said. “This isn’t the farthest I would go just to see her be alright.”

A tear slipped down Tigris’ cheek. “Tell me, Lucy Gray,” she said with as much sincerity as she could. “What do we have to do?”

[lilydoeswrite]

THE MERCILESS SIREN | CHAPTER 4

wattpad link previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

summary: It is the 66th Hunger Games when Oceana Fontaine is reaped as tribute, and at just thirteen years old, the odds are certainly not in her favour. As much as it is seen as an honour for Oceana to represent her district in the games, it is also practically a death sentence. But Oceana knows she needs to go home and is determined to, no matter how low her chances are and with the help of her mentors, she might just do that. But if she is to win, she will have to learn where her biggest strengths start to turn into her biggest flaws and weigh her options carefully as she starts making choices that pushes her morality and the lengths she will go to for love.

tags: slow burn (finnick x oc), eventual violence, the usual stuff when it comes to the hunger games, not sure what else

Everyone crowds around us the minute we get off the train, Peacekeepers helping to maintain order as one by one, we slowly walk out of the doors. I follow Stella’s instructions and try my best to copy what Finnick and the other victors are doing. I force my sweetest smile which I hoped looked as genuine as Gill’s and wave to the citizens. I’m guessing our arrival is a big deal considering the crowd of people that have shown up. The cheers and shouts are starting to get overwhelming as I hear a few shouting my name from behind, I turn my head and give whoever is chanting my name a wave as I continue walking. Gill is next to me and seems to be getting an equal amount of attention. 

Thankfully, we quickly arrive at the car and clammer in, shutting the door behind as I sink into the soft leather seats the minute I’m sure we’re out of the public eye and heave a sigh of relief. I hear a couple of chuckles coming from those around me but I couldn’t care less, instead, I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. “It’s over now, right?”

“Yeah,” I hear Finnick’s voice and I nod with a hum. “We’re just going to the Training Centre right now, it shouldn’t be that long of a car ride.” I nod again and I hear the engine of the car revving. I lift my head up and look outside the windows, the vibrant lights shine harshly as the streets are teeming with people in their weird and funky outfits.

I watch as we drive by street after street, the colourful dazzling lights are captivating and the big screens placed on buildings with advertisements of the Hunger Games. The capitol is bustling with life as loud music and voices from outside leak into the car in words I couldn’t quite decipher. 

After a while, we finally arrive at the Training Centre. The Training Centre would be where we live and train for the time before the actual games– this will be my home until then. There’s a tower designed exclusively for the tributes and their teams and each district has an entire floor to themselves. It’s easy to remember– your district number, your floor. We split up as we get into the lifts but I stay close to Finnick and Coral. I’ve only been in lifts a couple of times but this elevator has to be more glamorous than other ones; the walls are made out of crystal so you can watch as the people on the ground floor shrink into microscopic creatures as you make your way up. 

Stella’s duties don’t conclude at the station like how I thought it would. She will continue overseeing us alongside the rest of the victors into the arena. Stella smiles as she shows us the floor we’d be taking over and it’s nothing short of grand. The floors are grey and polished with fine lines of deeper and lighter shades running through them, they look like cracks but they aren’t. The walls are white and a chandelier hangs from the ceiling over what I guessed was the dining table. There are a significant amount of chairs and couches in the living room, probably to cater towards the amount of people we have and the kitchen is huge. I barely have any time to take it all in before Stella is showing me to my room and wishing me good night. 

The door shuts behind me and I’m left alone. The curtains are drawn up and so I get a good view of the city. The room is significantly larger than the one I have at home and it’s lavish just like the train car, just with more gadgets and buttons. The shower has at least a dozen buttons on a panel to adjust all sorts of settings from the water temperature to the type of soap to use. Heaters that blow-dry your body come on when you step onto a mat, so there’s barely any need for towels. I also don’t have to spend time combing through my tangled hair as there is a box that I can place my hand on that sends a current through my scalp which untangles, parts and dries my hair almost instantly. 

I’m in awe as I continue to explore the room. I approach the closet, my hand freezing upon the panel of buttons before I play around with them and program the closet to my taste, as well as to get something to wear to sleep. The whole room feels surreal to me. You’re able to see any part of the city through the windows on command and you can receive food in less than a minute if you were to whisper a type of food from a huge menu into a mouthpiece. I scan the menu, there’s almost every dish possible on it. 

Eventually, I end up lying down on the bed, dressed in soft silk pyjamas. I tuck myself into bed, my head resting on a soft pillow as I hug another, longing for a sense of comfort. My eyelids feel heavy and I have a hard time keeping them open before I decide to shut them, sinking into the mattress. 

“Up, everyone! Up! It’s an important day today!”

Stella’s voice wakes me up as I open my eyes, sitting up groggily before I climb out of bed, throwing the blanket and pillow aside. I shower and dress for the day. I’m dressed in a pair of black pants which were a little big on me and a blue shirt when I head out of my room for breakfast. “Good morning.” I smile at Finnick and Coral who are the first to greet me as I sit down at the dining table. Stella smiles at me as she places a cup of water on my table. I thank her before looking at the variety of food on the table, opting for some fruits which I scoop onto my plate. I peel my banana, taking a bite of it as I chew the soft flesh of the fruit. 

“Is that all you’re going to eat, Oceana? You’re going to need much more than that.” I look up at Coral in confusion, to my knowledge there is no training going on today. “There’s the opening ceremony tonight, so you’re going to need a little more to fuel yourself. You’re most likely going to skip lunch by being at the Remake Centre preparing for it.” She further elaborates. 

I nod, thanking her before scooping some scrambled eggs onto my plate and making myself a bowl of granola. Today is going to be a long day, especially with the opening ceremony which also meant the remaining tributes from the other districts would be arriving today. I’m finishing my plate of fruits and eggs when I hear a chair being pulled out and glance up to see Gill sitting directly opposite of me. “Good morning, Gill.”

“Good morning, Oceana” he smiles as he helps himself to the food, “slept well?”

“Yes, thanks for asking,” I reply and he nods, “how about you?”

“A little too good,” he laughs, “I overslept, Stella was shouting outside my door to wake me up.”

Everyone chuckles apart from Stella who has now taken her seat, shaking her head. “Today is a very important day, it’s essential that we get a good start to the day. I’ll let Clifford explain,” she turns her head to Clifford who nods before standing up and clearing his throat. 

“As Stella said, today is very important.” All eyes are on him now and silence falls over the table. “Today is the day where the remaining tributes of the other districts arrive and so tonight is the opening ceremony. You will be discussing your strategy for the games with your mentors today before you go off to the Remake Centre. The opening ceremony is where you are introduced to the citizens of the capitol, and not just citizens, but sponsors, which will be important for the games. You have to make sure you leave a lasting impression on them.” He looks at Gill and me who both nod before he continues. “As soon as you’re done with breakfast, you’ll start discussing strategy.” Clifford sits back down and Stella gives him an approving nod before all of us go back to eating our breakfast.

As soon as I’m finished, I follow Finnick and Coral to one of the many rooms on our floor. The room is just as grand as the others, there’s a big television screen on the wall and a few plush chairs sitting opposite of it. The windows span across the wall, leading warm rays of sun into the room and the curtains seem to be made out of silk. “So…Strategy,” I try to break the awkward silence which fills the room, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“Right, so strategy. Are you planning to make some allies or are you going to go solo?” Coral asks, sitting down as she looks at me. 

I open my mouth to respond but pause, realising that the thought of how I would approach the games has so far never crossed my mind. “I don’t know,” I answer, pressing my lips together. “I’m sorry but I just haven’t thought about it yet.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Finnick laughs, “that’s why we’re here to help.”

“Exactly,” Coral chimes in. “Well, if you were to make allies, it’d typically be with the other career districts– 1 and 2. Eventually you’d have to break your allegiance to each other, though.”

Districts 1 and 2? Do I even stand a chance against them when it’s time to break our allegiance? All of them look pretty strong and confident, including Gill. Gill, would he try to kill me? If District 4 was to have a victor it couldn’t be both of us so who would go home? Was it worth it to make allies? If I go solo would it be worse? It can’t possibly be worse. At this rate, I’m panicking as question after question races through my mind. “What did you guys do for your games?” I ask, trying to calm myself down.

“Well, I made allies with the other career tributes at first,” Finnick says, “but then I went off on my own.”

“Same here,” Coral smiles. “It may be scary to do so, but it will also be beneficial to you.” 

We spend a while debating on if I should make allies before actually discussing the rest of the strategy– what to do in the training sessions, what to say in the interviews and how to present myself in order to gather sponsors. I tell them what Ms Bronte said to me before we left for the Capitol and they find it not only helpful but sweet. Coral says that my looks would help me get sponsors which I’m not sure how to take, although I take it as a compliment. Finnick also repeats what he says on the train– master the art of survival skills and that a high training score would serve me well. 

We form a rough idea of what the strategy should be before I’m required to go to the Remake Centre. I’m unsure why I have to be there hours early but I get my answer when I’m whisked into the centre. I walk through the corridors next to Stella who leads me into a room where a woman with curly pink hair stands, “Valeria,” Stella smiles, greeting the unfamiliar woman which I assume would be my stylist. 

I’m taken aback at how normal she looks, all the stylists I’ve seen on television have dyed themselves, stencilled and surgically altered their faces so much so that they don’t even look human. The only thing that seems remotely altered is her hair and her purple lips with her brightly coloured pink eyeliner which clearly had been applied by a steady hand.

“Stella!” She squeaks in a high pitched voice, smiling. “Is this Oceana? Why don’t you look beautiful! I can’t wait to see you in your costume, you’d look amazing!” She instantly showers me with compliments, commenting how my eyes were just the right shade of green and how my hair looks lovely and how my features compliment each other just well. Stella just stands by the side and smiles before saying goodbye to me, leaving me in the care of my stylist.

“Now let's get started, shall we?” She claps her hands together enthusiastically and I give a forced smile. 

I can’t help but wonder if she also enjoys watching the games considering she’d have to grow close to the tributes as a stylist. She must enjoy it, though, she’s from the Capitol, and everyone in the Capitol enjoys watching the Hunger Games.

I can’t help but wonder if she’ll find joy in watching me die.

author's note: surprise! another chapter out since i've finished chapter seven and i'm now working on eight :) not much action going on in this one which i apologise for but thank you for reading all the way <3 if you like this please consider commenting and reblogging! thank you, and as always constructive criticism is welcomed :))

[welcome-to-oslov]

I love how Oslov Unraveled shows Tilrey taking yet more leaps of growth & healing even there at the "end". Really, each story does. It's so perfectly true to see that 25-30 years later, he's still healing from this, dealing with this, growing up despite it and through it.

So much lingered - Einara noting just a couple years ago that Tilrey held himself like someone used to being gazed at, used to being on alert for touch or attack.

Now that many of the Councillors who subjugated him have been dying off or retiring out of public involvement, does it make Tilrey feel a bit more optimistic about the future - to be fuckin' free of their damn faces finally?

I know that thanks to those photos and the ongoing gossip by the senior leaders, the younger generation did look at Tilrey and know what he had been, much to his discomfort. But they hadn't directly seen or experienced him in that role, so that must be a comfort. Do they know, like Ceill, that Tilrey hadn't been willing (I suppose unlikely, given Oslov's view of Laborers' lack of agency)? If it were up to him, would he still prefer that no one ever knew? Deliberately ambiguous question: never knew what he'd been and/or never knew he hadn't done it willingly...

I wonder about this! OTOH, if Tilrey could have his heart’s desire, I think he would want no one to know who he used to be. But it’s too late for that, as you pointed out! Given that people do know, and they will likely pass on the knowledge, I think he would want them to know he didn’t do it willingly. Not for his own sake, but so they know such things happened in the old system of patronage, and they can stop them from happening again. So basically, for the sake of posterity. And if people must know, he would want to write about it in those memoirs of his, rather than speaking publicly about it. That way, it would be less embarrassing and he could control the narrative better.

I keep thinking of this post I saw recently about Finnick in The Hunger Games, who resembles Tilrey in many ways! (Though Finnick actually was doing what he did to save the folks back home, while Tilrey was only fooled into thinking that.) The poster was incredibly angry about the fate of Finnick after all the horrific stuff he went through. One of the big dramatic moments in the series is when Finnick reveals that the sex work he was doing was brutally coerced by the Capital and not his choice. That moment is important for Katniss because she needs the information, but it’s just another trauma for Finnick.

Anyway, this is just a tangent, because Oslov wasn’t directly inspired by THG, but I like to imagine that Tilrey can show us how things might have happened if there’d been justice for Finnick and he were the main character of his story and took the lead role in rebuilding his world. ☺️ Like Finnick, Tilrey is probably seen by young people as a glamorous quasi-celebrity who’s always lived among the elites. It’s up to him to show them the ugly truth behind that.

[singswan-springswan]

Batfam brainrot said imagine a Hunger Games AU for them and I have little self control so now I'm thinking about it. Which is tricky. Because I'm not very familiar with the DC cast at large. Things I headcanon:

Tim is the tribute of interest. He's reaped despite his name only being entered once, and it's kind of a quiet political scandal, but no one really makes a fuss because his parents suck.

Bruce is Tim's mentor. Can't decide if he's from the Capital or not and serves as a mentor after volunteering to go to the districts or something something administrative bs maybe he actually is from the districts and is a victor

Dick is definitely a past victor in the same district---I'm thinking District 1 because aren't they supposed to be fancy and stuff? Fits with both the glamor of the circus for Dick and the wealth of people like Bruce and the Drakes (full disclosure my knowledge of the Panem verse is limited to stuff from fics and the movies and personal curiosity research) Dick is highly desired by Capital Folk for his physical beauty and alluring charm and yet very exclusive as far as prostitution goes because Dick resists tooth and nail as much as he dares behind the scenes. Also Bruce does everything in his power to help, which sadly isn't much since the system is rigged but it's better than the alternative

Don't let Dick's pretty face and sunshine smile fool you; he won his games through unconventional brutality. He's a lethal fighter and one kriff of a detective, while we're at it. Definitely a huge asset to the rebellion

Of course Tim knows that Dick Grayson and his famous father Bruce Wayne are part of some rebellion against the Capital. He's not snitching. He thinks it's cool. He asks to be part of it when he's reaped, and the predatory tension in Grayson's toothy grin would mean less beside Bruce's stormy scowl if the rebellion hadn't gotten Jason killed two years ago. Tim knows about that too. He knows it's a big deal, but he's probably going to die anyway so he might as well help out in the few weeks before then.

The Joker was gamemaker the year of Jason's death. Idk exactly why he ended up being a tribute because surely at that point Bruce has adopted him. Maybe he volunteers for a kid who's like twelve and has no one, and Jason figures he stands a solid chance because he's been training for years and also his family is the Waynes, but the Joker ends up killing him violently and horrifically and a lot of people grieve across the country. No one expected Jason to be killed. Die, maybe, but not be killed. The Joker's the only one who finds the whole thing entertaining. He disappears soon thereafter without a trace (Dick and Friends commit murder).

What no one knows, however, is that Talia saves Jason's body from the arena and resurrects it with the help of her father by the time Tim's game rolls around. Jason is broken and beaten and lost and confused and full of rage. His only comfort is knowing his family avenged his death. Under Talia's guidance, he continues training, though he must keep his identity secret from everyone, including his dad and brother. This version of Jason isn't as antagonistic as canon and actually works to help the rebellion as a secret agent/informant once his time with Talia is over. He's ruthless. Does lots of crimes. His combatant training, calloused mind, and the freak detective skills instilled by his father make for a deadly combination, and he begins to operate as an urban legend within the Capital, collecting every dirty secret every political corruption and the long list of quiet atrocities to use against those in charge later on, leaving a bloody trail of bodies in his wake. Talia couldn't be more proud. As part of the rebellion, Bruce is grateful for the intel this anonymous source provides, but a little unnerved by the methods everyone knows (but can't prove) he's using to get it.

The Al Ghul's and the League of Assasins can just be the government's enforcers. Talia specifically is in charge of training the tributes before the games, so it makes sense for her and Bruce to cross paths occassionally. They're tentative allies. She's not necessarily a rebel, but she is a little bit in the loop and is content to see where the chips fall either way. Damian is raised in semi-secret. Obviously no one knows he's the son of the reknowned Bruce Wayne, but he does publicly exist, if barely. Talia would have sent him to the career academy if she wanted her son anywhere near the games. She doesn't. She and her father can train him just as well without the dead end that path leads down. Besides, he's the child of her beloved as well, and she wants Bruce to know the kid past eighteen.

Steph might be one of the other tributes in the same game as Tim. They become fast friends and she almost instantly worms her way into the rebellion. It gives Bruce a bajillion gray hairs because now he only has two weeks to figure out how to get them both out alive and the star crossed lovers thing hasn't worked ever but faking someone's death is twice as complicated and he's pretty sure Tim could only sit still long enough if he passed out from caffeine overdose. Then Duke is there too with them big ole eyes and sometimes the lights glow brighter in the room when he walks in and Bruce is getting too old for this.

Cass is a mutt created by the Capital. She's originally used as a weapon to eliminate perceived enemies of the state, etc etc and honed into a living weapon. Somewhere along the way she finds Bruce when he's doing Spy Stuff or something and he survives her assassination attempt and decides yeah okay always down for another kid, disregarding the fact that she may or may not be human exactly and doesn't appear to have any experience actually being human. It's okay though. Dick's teaching her how to dance. She might not know what language is yet, but she's learning to dance and that might be better anyway.

Tim's game very nearly goes to kriff because Bruce almost can't fake everyone's death in time, and if he wasn't able to pull it off, he and Clark and Selina and Diana and a bunch of other people were fully prepared to storm the arena and shut it down themselves to save the kiddos. But it's okay they made it to the end. Tim enjoys being legally dead a lot more than might be healthy and everyone is grateful he's on their side. Who "wins" that year's game? Maybe Kon. Bart's fake death was really dramatic and Dick laughed the whole time he was watching. Duke is convinced the leaked radiation from his faked death gave him super powers. It's all Bruce can do to make him not test that theory in the most unhinged dangerous chaotic way possible.

It isn't until the quarter quell or whatever that the rebellion breaks containment. Previous victors are reaped so Dick is thrown back into the wringer despite public outrage hehe. Barbara can be there too. I'm thinking she's from district 3 because tek and she and Tim can be hacker buddies. She was paralyzed by her game. Maybe sprinkle in some Roy, possibly Titans and a token Slade for goofs and giggles. Naturally, half these people are part of the rebellion. The rest definitely know about it. There are riots. They blow up the arena. Whoopsies, started a war.

It isn't until the batfam relocates to district 13 that Jason is revealed to be alive. I'm imagining them narrowly escaping the chaos in the Capital, bruised and battered, bunkering down in this secret forgotton part of their country and then Jason's just sitting in the cafeteria sipping coffee reading Hamlet. He looks just as startled to see them there as they are to find him. His boots are muddy on the table. No one else in for military rations seems to pay that any mind. Tim's pulling out his mobile blood toxicity test kit to check for hallucinagens in their systems by the time Jason works up the brain function to sip his coffee again. "Sup Dad" He says casually, because he's a little piece of crap.

I think Bruce faints.

the funniest part is that Jason's been keeping tabs on his family ever since etering the field full time, so he knows them all very intimately but keeps forgetting he's never actually met some of his new siblings so sometimes they go really still staring at him like they're talking to a ghost and he gets snippy about it before he remembers. Damian's the only one who knew Jason was alive and doing his own rebel thing because Jason taught him how to read when he was still training with Talia but Damian never mentioned it because "no one ever asked" (read: he's also a little piece of crap)

not really sure who the president would be. Idk if there are any villains down to earth enough that could reasonably fit the bill but also be general enough to account for all the other heroes not included in the batfam ie the supers and wonders and lanterns martians and everyone in between. Anyway the point is that that loser (or maybe group of losers; i wouldn't be opposed to an oligarchy dictatorship) is going down by the power of family and friendship. The rebels win because they have more fun. Good for them we stan some quality shenanigans

No one we like dies

Alfred makes everyone cookies

[maytheoddshq]

Fae Mammon (she/her). District Two Stylist. Twenty-eight. Janel Parrish.

If every little girl dreamt of being a princess, then Fae was one who was living those dreams. She grew up in a big house in the Capitol with parents who loved each other and who loved her even more. Her father was a Gamemaker and her mother was an art teacher at the university. They had two avoxes who lived with them and helped out around the house. Fae used to beg them to play dolls with her.  At least, she did until her little sister came along and then Fae had a real baby she could dress and take care of. She would go on to style her sister and tell her what to do and who to be until they were both full grown, and she would love every second of it.

She was five years old when her father took her to her first Tribute Parade. The costumes and the glamor enchanted Fae instantly. It was the sort of magic that was found in fairytales but it was right there at her fingertips. All she wanted to do was be a part of it. Fae remembers asking her dad what if she were one of the ones to wear the beautiful costumes in the chariots? Her dad told her that she’d never have to worry about that, which confused her. She wanted to be a part of the magic.

Over the years, Fae grew to understand what, precisely, the Hunger Games were. The bodies strewn across the televised battle fields were real, and the competition ended when one child was left standing. And then each new Victor sparkled brighter than the last, and Fae begged her dad to take her to work with him every chance she could, just so she could be around it all, maybe meet a Victor, maybe get some of the Hunger Games magic for herself.

Fae should have been able to say that the greatest day of her life was her first day as a stylist. She’d been respectful about it, told her dad not to pull any strings or grease any palms. She wanted to deserve the opportunity she’d been given, and he respected her, even though they both watched as stylists who were younger and less talented got placed in high-ranking districts. So when she finally got accepted, it should have felt like a dream come true. This was all she’d ever wanted. And for a while, it was. Fae was assigned to District Twelve, but everyone who was worth anything had to pay their dues - she’d known that for years. She worked to build the perfect designs, and inspiration drove her to create matching outfits for escort and mentors as well. She was so excited.

Then she met the tributes, and Fae’s entire world came crashing down around her. It wasn’t magic. It was murder. These were children. How could she have been so wrong?

Everything changed for Fae after that first Games, when she watched her tributes die horrible deaths. She immediately put in her request for next Games - she asked to be assigned to District 12 again. No one wanted it, no one was willing to be someone who was there for these kids, knowing it was a hopeless cause. So she had to be there. She had to be strong for the tributes that she dressed. She had to make them feel strong in turn. 

Her style was driven from that passion to make them feel powerful. She designed with a newfound purpose, sharp angles and strong lines. She tried to get to know the people she styled, and add in flair that would make them feel seen, and make them want to be presented to the world. Fae couldn’t make everything better, but if she could give them any ounce of confidence, she would do her damndest to try.

It was hard, and to a degree, Fae hated it. She hated that everything she believed in was twisted and vulgar and no one had ever thought to let her know. She hated that there were kids who volunteered, who begged to be chosen, who murdered the children she’d just met mercilessly, proud of themselves and the glory it would bring them. And Fae hated herself, for basking in that glory once upon a time. For wanting this. For thinking it was a fairytale, a game. It was anything but.

Though once a daddy’s girl, Fae grew estranged from her father. He knew. He’d known this entire time the reality she’d been forced to wake up to. He profited off of it year after year. He made her sick. And with Fae’s new reality came fights, screaming matches that she’d get into with her mother. Her sister, doing her bidding since before she could walk, was refusing, shocked and confused and hurt by Fae’s new beliefs. They couldn’t understand. They refused to understand. It broke Fae’s heart.

Still, she kept on, Games after Games, making her way to the top floor where the District 12 tributes waited for their turn to die. It was a shock, then, when she was assigned to District 2 for the most recent Games. She doesn’t know how she’s going to manage keeping her cool around Careers. She has no idea what to expect, and it turns her stomach to think of playing nice with those who volunteered, who won because of their years of training, who murdered for sport, brainwashed since childhood into believing it was all a game. She would have loved this, years ago. But she’s not brainwashed anymore. 

Three strengths and three weaknesses?

+ resolute, hard-working, compassionate

- stubborn, emotional, naive

PENNED BY: Greta

[hashtagartistlife]

IR hunger games AU

pt 4/???

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

bonus comics under the cut + some more exposition 

bonus cut 1: 

bonus cut 2: 

Recap of the story so far: yuzu gets picked as tribute for the hunger games. Ichigo manages to volunteer in her place. Rukia gets drawn to replace yuzu, and ichiruki end up being the tributes for district 12. 

Ichiruki then meet urahara, their mentor, on the train to the capitol. On this train they may or may not have a conversation regarding the fact that Rukia saved Ichigo’s life as kids, and that they have consequently been dancing around each other for years now. I reserve the right to add more to this section later. Either way, they are awkward at best and frosty at worst as they enter the capitol. 

At the capitol, they meet their stylists, uryuu and orihime. They are new stylists, who only graduated last year. This is their first official stylist job. This in itself is not that surprising, as district 12 was unpopular and often stuck with the inexperienced or not-quite-so-talented stylists. However, though uryuu and orihime are inexperienced, they are the furthest thing from untalented or unpopular - since they had been students, they have been somewhat of a rising star in the styling community. So, everyone is surprised when they both (separately) apply for the district 12 styling job, because they really could have had their pick. 

Ishihime were both born and raised in the capitol, but their childhoods were far from the lavish, glamorous lifestyle commonly associated with capitol citizens. If the capitol had a caste system (which they do — it’s just unspoken, is all), they would be on the bottom rung — orihime grew up under her brother in as close to poverty as what you can get in the capitol, dreaming of the glitz and glamour of the upper crust life. Ryuuken, meanwhile, is very rich, but for whatever reasons uryuu ran away from home young and has been surviving on his own since. The fact that they both clawed their way up the ranks to become hunger game stylists out of pure talent and tenacity was a novelty for everyone, and contributed to their rising stardom. 

Ishihime hadn’t met prior to their appointment as district 12 stylists, but they HAD heard of the other— it was a pleasant surprise to both of them that the other had also applied for the job. Though they only meet on the job, they click instantly and develop an easy working partnership to create a sensation with ichigo and rukia’s opening ceremony outfits. The outfits had a fire + ice theme, based on the fact that district 12 was a mining district (coal > fire, diamonds > ice). 

Orihime applied to the district 12 job because of Ichigo— she saw him volunteering for his sister on TV and maybe fell a little bit in love with him, with the idea of him— how romantic, how heroic of him, how noble to be able to volunteer for his sister like that— the same age as her, and so handsome, too, she wants to be by his side, she wants to help him, she wants to make sure he looks his best at the games so that he can maximise his chances of returning to his sister… as stated previously Orihime grew up entrenched in the capitol mindset so she is not yet aware of how fucked up the whole system is. Uryuu, meanwhile, nobody is particularly sure why he applied for the job… he said something trite about wanting to use his skills where it’s most needed, how he likes a challenge, but orihime wonders if that’s really all there is to it— outwardly, he’s the picture perfect new graduate, enthusiastic, happy, proud of his job— but there are moments when they are being applauded for their latest creations when she thinks his expression goes a little sour… it’s always fleeting and gone so fast that she can never be sure however 

Ichiruki, meanwhile, are the talk of the town. What with their stunning entrance at the opening ceremony and rukia’s public confession, all they have to do now is ride this wave of popularity all the way through the games for an easy win— unfortunately, they are both terribly bad at knowing how to manipulate this situation to their advantage. They both understand the gist of urahara’s plan — act like they’re falling in love— but neither of them understand WHY or HOW this will work. Why would the audience be invested in their falling in love? What exactly do they want to see? HOW do they act like they’re falling in love? (and, in Rukia’s case— how much of it should be pretend, how much of it is real?) 

Enter Rangiku, the previous district 12 stylist. She and gin grew up in one of the districts, both hating the games and the capitol, until one day at 14 yrs old, gin said to her ‘i’m gonna make it so that you don’t have to be afraid of your name being called at the reapings no more’, volunteered as tribute, won the games, and promptly disappeared from her life. 

Years later, rangiku sees gin on tv as the new host of the hunger games. She’s stunned and infuriated— she thought they both hates the capitol for what they did to the districts and now he’s WORKING for them? What the hell is he thinking? So rangiku packs up and moves to the capitol— her plan is to try to see him, to talk things out, surely there must be some kind of misunderstanding— but gin is all rich and famous now, and very heavily guarded, and she’s a nobody. There’s no way anyone will let her within ten feet of gin at all— so, rangiku decides she’s going to have to join the circus to talk to its head clown, and becomes a stylist. 

Unfortunately, even as a stylist, she can’t get a word to him edgewise— and she’s starting to suspect that maybe it’s not that she can’t get to him, but that gin is actively avoiding her. She COULD climb the ranks until he can no longer avoid her— she is very good at this stylist gig, much to her surprise— but she doesn’t have the heart to do the backstabbing and bribing necessary for that. She is constantly warring between ‘I cannot pour my talent into something this morally bankrupt’ and ‘but maybe if I do my best, I’ll give my district’s kids a fighting chance’. 

Eventually, by the time ichiruki step up, rangiku is so sick of having to dress kids up nicely for slaughter that she hands in her resignation, gives up on gin, and is getting ready to move back home to her district. That is, until she sees what an absolute record-breaker ichiruki are becoming, and start to hope again— that maybe, this year things will be different. That maybe, they will be different. That maybe, at least one of ‘her kids’ won’t go home in a coffin this year, will instead require outfits for a victory tour instead— a victory tour that is accompanied by their stylists… and the host. 

So, rangiku comes back in an unofficial capacity to help ichiruki refine their act a bit more. But with less than one month left till the games commence, will what they come up with be enough to carry them through the entire games? And, even if it does— what will happen if at the end of it all, the two people who remain are ichigo and rukia— when only one person gets to return home alive? 

Very unrelated point, but: ichigo apologised to rukia for grabbing her wrist post-tribute interview. Just wanted to clarify it is NOT alright to grab at people under any circumstances— ichigo did it in the heat of the moment, but when everything was cleared up he apologised for it. Had to mention this somewhere because it bothered me so much while drawing this installment— Ichigo you have NO room to be scolding the reporter for grabbing rukia, you did it not too long ago yourself! Having said that, that’s probably why he’s being very touchy about this— it was something that had been a sore point for him too very recently. 

To be continued! 

[imagine-you]

I'm Coming For You and I'm Making War [Johanna Mason/Reader] (1/5)

Summary: An orphan from District 10 was no one's pick to win the 68th Hunger Games, but you managed to prove them wrong. You're not impressed with the glitz and glamor of the Capitol and you certainly don't want any of the expectations that come with being a Victor. Not even Finnick Odair's friendship can make you feel any less alone until you meet Johanna Mason. She's everything you didn't know you needed, but when rebellion stirs in the districts after Katniss Everdeen's act of defiance in the 74th Hunger Games that guaranteed not only her survival but Peeta Mellark's as well, it turns out that you might have to face Johanna, Finnick, and everyone you've grown to care about in the 75th Hunger Games. Word Count: 9k Author's Notes: This all started because of a gifset that came across my dash one day and it got the fic plotting wheels going in my brain and here we are. I always thought my first Hunger Games fic would be Finnick/Reader, but Johanna stole my heart and I had to go with this idea. If you like this, please let me know by commenting/reblogging. It would mean so much to me since low reader engagement has really killed my motivation. Title comes from Irresistible by Fall Out Boy.

Part One -- Part Two -- Part Three -- Part Four -- Part Five

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

Why I liked the 10th Hunger Games

This post contains spoilers for The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.

First, I feel compelled to mention that I didn’t like the 10th Hunger Games in the traditional sense of the word; I didn’t feel that they were exciting or entertaining, nor were they supposed to be. They were disturbing and brutal and unsettling, but more on that later. 

When I heard that the prequel would be about President Snow’s rise to power and that he would be mentoring the District 12 girl in the 10th Hunger Games, I was fairly excited. Not so much to see Snow, although his character was interesting, but to see what the Games were like 64 years before the original trilogy. Seeing the Games in their most primitive and basic state was so fascinating to me. It added a lot of world-building to Panem that I very much appreciated. Something else that interested me, while unprecedented, was Snow’s contribution to the development of the Hunger Games. 

It didn’t surprise me that the Games were so primitive. I knew they weren’t likely to be the grand spectacle we knew them as after only ten years. Of course, I didn’t know exactly what they would look like or how they would work, but it was easy to assume that they would be more basic and less developed. Here are some of the major differences:

The tributes are treated more like animals than people. Upon reaching the Capitol, they’re dropped in a literal zoo, where Capitol citizens can go and ogle at them before the Games. 

They’re all kept in the same cage and are not fed or taken care of. In fact, they never even change out of their reaping clothes. 

Capitol children mentor the tributes, although many of the tributes have no interest in interacting with Capitol children. Similarly, the Capitol children don’t make an effort to care for their tributes, save for Coriolanus and Sejanus. 

The arena is an amphitheater, much smaller than the future arenas, and they use the same one every year. Nothing is cleaned out or changed between each Hunger Games. 

Before the 10th Games, the concept of sponsorships, betting on tributes, and mentoring were absent. 

The Games are considerably less technologically advanced. There are no trackers, so unless a tribute is out in the open, nobody knows where they are. No cannons sound after each death and the faces of the dead children don’t appear in the sky. 

The victor, as far as we know, goes back to their home district to live just as they did before; no Victory Tour, interference from the Capitol, or rewards from winning. 

That’s about all of the major differences that I can think of. As you can probably tell, this made the Games less entertaining and more blatantly disgusting. So much so that even Capitol citizens had no interest in watching them. The 10th Hunger Games, in particular, was boring because you were staring at an empty arena most of the time, as all of the tributes were hiding. 

I’m aware that many people disliked the Games in this book. And you should. They’re not fun, or entertaining, or glamorous. You should feel unsettled. That’s the point. I didn’t like the Games, exactly, but I like the purpose that the 10th Hunger Games serve. 

In the world of Panem, they’re a monumental Games that pave the way for new developments. They introduce many new concepts to the Games; mentoring, sponsoring tributes, ways to make the Games more enjoyable. Many of these ideas can be credited to Snow. It was so interesting to see how many of these familiar concepts came directly from him. It added some very appreciated history and background to the Hunger Games that I was very glad to get. 

In our world, they’re more of a call out. We romanticized the Games too much. We saw the fun costumes and the flashy Capitol and suspenseful fights in the arena and thought “how exciting.” I’m not saying that we never looked deeper than that. There are many people who saw the deeper meanings behind the books and Panem’s government and how it ties to our own. But what did the fans, as a whole, maintain a conversation about? Team Peeta or Team Gale. This debate, admittedly, is deeper than it appears in its own right, but so many people focus on the frivolous details or the romance and ignore the political and social messages. 

We are disturbingly similar to the Capitol. I know I’ve said this before and I’ll continue to say it. Our reaction to the Games in the original trilogy was not unlike the reactions of the Capitol citizens. A little less over the top, perhaps, but similar. 

This is why I’m glad the 10th Hunger Games played out like it did. There’s no room for that excitement. Nobody’s going to read that and think “what a thrilling Hunger Games.” Because it wasn’t. When all of the frivolous details are stripped away, we’re left with the core of what the Games are. And it’s not pretty, it’s disgusting, and horrifying. Perhaps President Snow thought that by adding the tribute parade and interviews and making it a grand spectacle, the sheer brutality of the Games would be covered up. And as we know, it worked on the Capitol citizens. They were oblivious to the real horror because they only saw the frivolous and trivial details. Unfortunately, it worked on us, too. 

This book was a wake up call, in a way. I was glad to see that it was more obvious in its political messaging and deeper themes. It was incredibly thought provoking. 

I think I’ve just about covered all of my thoughts on this topic. Feel free to reblog with your own thoughts, I’d love to know what you all think.  

[elmidol]

This is my first request and I'm so nervous. Cheater/Dom/ Supreme Leader Kylo Ren he gets to do just whatever the fuck he wants and he gets what he wants. Sub/bratty reader two can play the same game. smut, smut, smut. Surprised me my beautiful queen. I love you bebe 💕😍

Word count: 6,100

Pairing: Kylo x Reader, side Kylo/Other Women and brief Other man/RC

Warnings: Tons of smut, possible infidelity, open relationship, multiple orgasms, inappropriate use of the Force, DP and TP with the Force, vaginal fingering, oral

Power created many forms of hunger in a person that trickled into their each and every actions as well as their relationships. Not that the Supreme Leader had many relationships in the strictest sense of the word. You were one of the few capable of honestly claiming that you did have one with him. It was not glamorous like some might believe. There was a severe lack of tenderness that may have dissuaded others from envying your position, but for you it was nothing less than what you had expected. His affection was shown in subtle ways that many times caught you by surprise. He did not lavish you with gifts. Instead the surprises were often food-related to ensure that you kept healthy and energized. This benefited him as well given how rigorous your activities in bed could be. If there was a label to help expand on the relationship that you had with him, it would be open.

The two of you were not mutually exclusive to one another; some of his darker tastes were satisfied only with strangers. To your knowledge he had not fucked the same person, other than you, more than three times. Did you have bouts of jealousy regardless of this? Yes. You knew what he was capable of, knew how it felt to have him inside of you. To toy with you. Picturing him with others was nothing you plagued yourself with, although there were admittedly some exceptions. It had been your idea once to play the role of voyeur. See what it was like from the outside looking in to observe how dominant and hungry he was during sex. You did not regret that. You had fucked yourself with your fingers while watching him, moaning along as he edged the woman but never let her cum. He used her like a toy, a mere body to be fucked.

It had not been an issue for you, knowing that Kylo Ren was touching others instead of you. That changed when you noticed him eyeing a specific officer for whom you had no warm feelings. She was attractive, charismatic in her own way. You could see the appeal that she might have, but you loathed her. It was the first time that you had attempted to put up boundaries and tell him no. Kylo had merely smirked at you, verbally reminding you that he could take whatever he wants. It felt like a punch to the face. Not one that you derived any pleasure from either.

The only mercy that he showed was not fucking her in his quarters or anywhere else that was intimate. You were plenty aware he did indeed fuck her though. The way she walked the next day. Almost bowlegged, wincing here and there but with a satisfied smile on her lips. He had not only fucked her, but he had let her cum. Conflicting emotions waged war inside of you. In a sense, he had cheated on you, hadn’t he? You remained unsure. You had not bothered to fight back when he had countered your protests. You had not put your foot down on the matter.

His teasing that you were jealous enraged you. You turned your head to the side without replying. Kylo jerked his hips forward, bucking up into you, hitting your cervix with the head of his cock. Your stomach did a flip, your legs giving a light spasm as they pressed against his body. He slowed his movements. You felt his eyes boring into you. Kylo did not require the Force to know what you were feeling. This was a more intimate aspect of your relationship with him. That he knew you.

Or thought he did. He believed that you would not fuck anyone else, that he was the only one with an insatiable hunger.

You obediently opened your mouth when he pinched your cheeks so that he could spit into it then thrust his tongue inside. Withdrawing, he bit down on your bottom lip, tugging it and clenching his jaw until you cried out. “Don’t look away from me.” He spoke the words calmly but the threat was there even without the biting. You were not opposed to talking back to him, to sassing, as some would call it. Rather than doing so immediately, though, you observed him. Kylo claimed your mouth for a second time. This kiss was little more tender than the previous. Yet you were able to melt into it. A moan erupted from you and you raked your nails along his chest, creating rivulets that threatened to release tiny droplets of blood if you added any more pressure. Above you, he growled, his eyes widening as he stared at you. You met his gaze throughout the kiss, which grew in intensity.

Kylo thrust into you at an unrelenting pace that rocked your entire body. Teeth clattered together. Fingers dug into the flesh of his back for a second time, leaving yet more rivulets. Blood bubbled up in two of these indentations. The kiss was broken, his mouth switching down to your shoulder, where he bit and suckled. His tongue laved over the area. Kylo alternated between biting you and sucking, bruising the flesh with a mark that would last for days. Your mouth hung open as you worked to breathe. His hips clashing almost violently with yours. His cock stretching you, filling you, stroking your inner walls with a friction that was eased only by your wetness.

The orgasm that had been building was lackluster in comparison to what it might have been had you been able to get out of your own head. You grunted through it, felt the way your walls contracted around him. Kylo kept thrusting, seeking his own release. “I’m going to let Officer Haysworth fuck me.” You spoke in a deadpan.

A resounding thud echoed in the room as the sound of flesh smacking into flesh abruptly ceased. Kylo’s burning gaze was trained on your face. His lips curled back into a snarl. “You bitch.” It was a petty victory, robbing him of his release like that. At the same time, it was everything to you. To be able to hurt him as he had hurt you. You roamed your gaze along his features. His hand came down upon your throat. There would be a bruise there, one that you could hide under the collar of your uniform. Kylo resumed roughly fucking you. The pressure on your throat made your body tighten around him. Kylo smirked down at you. His hunger was visible, palpable. He swerved his hips so that his abdomen brushed along your clit with each thrust. Your legs locked more tightly around him at the stimulation that quickly grew into something you could hardly bear. He ensured that you came again. This one was slightly more satisfying than the former, although much of this was due to the thrill of having made him angry with you.

~

Three days elapsed during which time you did not pursue the officer that you had named. Kylo Ren himself sought out no other bodies to entertain himself with. This was due more to work than any other reason. One reason you held off was that you did not want to have sex with another individual out of pure spite. It had to be something that felt worth it to you. And you could not deny the growing curiosity that you had started to feel; how it would be to have sex with someone who was not Kylo Ren. Would you be dissatisfied? Would it allow for a new thrill? Would Kylo Ren himself step up his game if you indulged? You nearly snorted at the final thought. Still, you refused to deny the allure and decided to experiment with another person.

Once eight days had passed since you had taunted Kylo Ren, you made arrangements to meet with Officer Haysworth for a single hookup.

You closed your eyes while feelling the body atop yours moving. Flesh meeting flesh. A soft sigh escaped from your lips, and you noticed how soft the pillow underneath your head was. The material was not standard. Silk. You turned your face so that your cheek met its coolness. The mattress below you squeaked, the springs protesting the movement from above. The officer was more interested in his own pleasure instead of yours. It was not the worst sex you had ever had, but you did not see the appeal. It took all you had to resist rolling your eyes at the thought of Kylo Ren knowingly smirking at you, at the taunting you would receive.

A gasp from above preceded his heavy breathing. You rotated your hips, altering your position to see if you could feel some stimulation from his movements. It worked, sparks of arousal tingling through you in warm waves. You pressed yourself even closer to his, wrapped your arms around his back and touched your forehead to his chest. Officer Haysworth adjusted his position as well. He placed a hand on your cheek and pressed his lips to the top of your head. It did not have the same energy as when Kylo would kiss you. It was not tenderness that you wanted either. It was an orgasm, plain and simple.

Frantic thrusting. His hands pulled you closer, as though he could not get enough of you. As though he wanted to meld your bodies together completely. You sighed, forcing a smile when his eyes settled on your face. Faked a moan. You figured at least one of the two of you deserved to cum. Realizing that this was not quite working, you dropped a hand down between the two of you, touching yourself. It was with frustration that you acknowledged memories of Kylo fucking you were what made you aroused. Officer Haysworth came on your stomach as you brought yourself to a rather weak and disappointing orgasm that you forced yourself to moan loudly for.

While the officer asked if you wanted to make similar arrangements for another time, you deflected and gave a noncommittal noise; you would give a full rejection later. You redressed then returned to your quarters to prepare for sleep before a new shift. A part of you hoped that Kylo would not learn that you had gone through with your plan. Not with how it had turned out. Kriff, you should have chosen someone else. Not that anyone specific sprang to mind. Officer Haysworth was attractive to you. Others? You wrinkled your nose and ran both of your hands down your face.

One full cycle elapsed. You saw the Supreme Leader in passing. He did not spare a second glance your way, however he did not look at any other female either. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion near the end of your shift. To your knowledge, there had been no major skirmish with the Resistance. You drummed your fingers on the nearest console, earning the attention of the two officers that were near you. You immediately ceased the action and pushed Kylo Ren’s behavior out of your mind. It could not be something that would distract you from work, and you were not going to feel guilty for having slept with someone else when you were in an open relationship with the man. It having been mostly a bust was not some sign that you were being punished. Kylo not speaking to you was not that either. That was his normal temperament the majority of the time.

Three days. You surreptitiously checked out some of the other male officers that were too busy to notice your actions. None of them were wholly unattractive. Neither did they ignite a fire in you. Maybe you could observe some stormtroopers training and pick up one of them. A random hookup based on watching them in physical combat. It was one of the things that had first attracted you to Kylo Ren. The power he exuded while fighting, while killing. Although, you mused, their white armor did not offer as much of a sight as Kylo Ren’s choice in clothing. The way he carried himself was different, too. Stormtroopers were subservient, whereas Kylo Ren was very much his own man.

A chime on your datapad startled you, making you jump. One of your coworkers snickered. You ignored them while opening up the message that had arrived. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren had summoned you to his quarters. You bit down on the insides of your cheeks to keep from grinning. Though you remained ignorant as to how he would react once he had you alone with him, you felt a surge of relief with the fact that he was speaking with you. Beyond that, you had been growing more distracted--too distracted--to successfully complete your job to the best of your ability. Being called away before you could grow worse, that was a gift. You logged out of the system that you had been engaged with then rose from your seat and began the trek to the Supreme Leader’s personal quarters.

Upon arriving, one of the first things that you noticed was that he had not donned his mask this time. It had been intimidating before it had been destroyed and repaired, however the red streaks it now contained heightened the experience. With the absence of the helmet, you were allowed to see his face immediately. You dropped your gaze to the floor. Kylo Ren’s dark eyes were narrowed when he looked your way.

“You did not lie to me.” The relationship that you had with this man gave insight into his moods. The traces of anger were not directed at you but at himself; it had been his own oversight that had led him to wrongly believe you would not have sex with someone else. A brief glance at his jawline revealed yet more. It was in constant motion. Frustration, a hint of hurt. There were times that you forgot, underneath it all, Kylo was sensitive to anything that could be construed as a betrayal. He had good reason for that, although you yourself did not know his full history. You did not need to know it either.

With a sigh, you crossed your arms behind your back and looked towards the ceiling while tilting back your head. “For what it’s worth, I’m probably more disappointed than you are.” Your gaze flickered towards his face. Amusement warred with his current mood. “I should have chosen someone else.”

“Who?” It lacked malice. The genuine curiosity sent a thrill through you as you recalled Kylo Ren, after one of the times the two of you had fucked for hours, speaking of watching the Knights of Ren with women. Sometimes multiple Knights with the same woman at the same time. The memory had made his cock hard, had energized him enough that he had pushed you back against the mattress and fucked you from behind.

You shrugged coyly and batted your lashes at him. It was rare indeed that you were in any position to tease him. This was not an opportunity to squander. You wanted to get him riled up, plenty aware of what it would mean in the long run. Hunger flashed in his gaze as he continued to observe you. Kylo took the first step nearer to you. Your stomach fluttered in anticipation. A repetition of the question from his lips had you turning away, your back to him. He could break your willpower with his eyes alone, with the promise of his stare. The predatory way he eyed you. How you could feel him, those tendrils of the Force that he sent working along your body. They started at your hips, like hands, keeping you from stepping away from him. Kylo pressed up against you. His firm muscles eliciting a gasp.

You shuddered while allowing your head to fall back against Kylo’s shoulder as the warmth within your body began to build. One of the tendrils of Force power slipped into your shirt, sliding along your flesh until it wrapped around your breasts, squeezing them. Your mouth opened, moans issuing from you as the tendril split into two and began to toy with your nipples. Kylo Ren used the Force to bounce your breasts up and down, massaging them, moving fast then slow. Alternating each time he managed to steal a gasp. He dropped his hands down without removing the tendrils. Seizing your inner thighs, he forced your legs apart.

Whimpering, you tried to ignore his verbal teasing. “He couldn’t make you cum.” That snicker was cruel, albeit not as degrading as you had feared. The words he spoke were not to shame you so much as bolster his already inflated ego. The Force tendril on your right breast swirled, dragging back and forth on your nipple in rapid succession while its twin was treated more gently. Your skin felt electrified. More sensitive than it had ever been before. “Why go to him?”

“Shut up,” you growled, trembling. “It’s an open relationship. I can--”

“Mm. You have been jealous.” He deflected his own feelings, however you knew him well enough to hear the confirmation that you had been searching for. Kylo Ren was not seeking to make you feel less as much as he was working to patch the damage to his confidence. It was baffling to you. Almost endearing in another light. His nose skimmed along the helix of your ear. “I will leave her alone. Have her transferred.” A pause. “Have her killed.” Fuck. A pang struck your heart as you realized there was a thrill in the idea. Kylo chuckled darkly. His tongue laved over where his nose had just touched. Your breasts were pressed towards one another again. “They are just bodies.” He thrust his hips forward while speaking, crushing his pelvis into yours, grinding his hardening cock into your ass.

The implied compliment that you meant more to him elicited another shiver, another moan. Kylo rocked the heel of his hand against your clothed pussy. You arched into his touch, undulating your hips and grinding into his hand and cock in alteration. You had hardly noticed that he had been busy working open the front of your pants so that they slid down your body until the material was doing just that. Kylo began to rub you through your panties. You swore you could feel him smirking against your ear, which was warmed by his hot breath.

Panting, you encouraged him to continue by letting slip more moans as he rubbed your wet panties, toying with your slit through them. He dragged some of that wetness towards your clitoris. With a chuckle, he shoved aside this barrier of clothing and stroked the seam of his glove along where he had been touching mere moments before. You collapsed backwards into him. It was hard to not feel like gelatin when those tendrils of the Force flicked your nipples, when they squeezed your breasts lightly. All the while Kylo was pulling more of that wetness between your legs towards your clit.

The heel of his hand pressing against your pubis, he sent another tendril of the Force to dance along your jaw and slip into your mouth. It slid along your tongue, teasing your organ until you pressed at it with your own. It then danced along your tongue and you closed your mouth, sucking around the invisible presence. “I can fill you--you don’t need anyone else.” You jerked your head to the side, and Kylo allowed you to break contact with that specific tendril. He sighed, likely aware of your sudden agitation and its cause. The double-standards that he had were an issue. “What if I let you pick and fuck them in front of you? You liked that.” It was telling, that he was bargaining at all. Mister I-Can-Take-Whatever-I-Want was trying to placate you. You worried at your bottom lip as you thought of his proposition. His finger skimmed back and forth on your clit, nudging the nub towards one side then the other, up and down. Rolling it. “Hmm?”

“Maybe.” The words were sighed out. The warm pressure, like a dam, was building inside of you. It had been for a while. Every touch, each time he teased you, it all compounded. Kylo slid a second finger along with the first. “Oh…” All at once the dam burst. A few tears leaked down your cheeks and your vision doubled, blurred. You trembled, whimpering and moaning as your vaginal walls clenched and unclenched.

Kylo lowered you to the ground, shoving you onto your back and moving between your legs. He yanked your panties aside the remainder of the way and pressed his mouth to your pussy. You gasped, feeling his tongue lapping at you. His teeth nipped at the tender flesh nearby. It sent jolts of more pleasure rushing through your oversensitive body, as did the sound of him greedily sucking and slurping up your cum. You seized the back of his head with trembling hands and arched. Felt his tongue at your entrance, prodding but never quite entering. He licked a trail up to your clit then back down. Repeated this. It was all the encouragement you required to rock into his mouth. You hooked both legs over his shoulders.

You could feel his grin against you as he worked. Knew that there were selfish motivations for this, that he was not being nice, per se. Right then, you hardly cared. He teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, rolling the nub around and around, up and down, side to side. Then his nose was there instead as he licked your outer lips, inner, your entrance. Kylo grabbed hold of your hips, his thumbs digging into you, massaging and teasing as he licked until your second orgasm crashed over you. You screamed his name and ground against his face. More Force tendrils wrapped around your legs, running up and down along them.

Crawling up the length of your body, Kylo moved so that he was atop you. His mouth descended, tongue thrusting against yours so that you were able to taste yourself. You groaned, watching him as he moved down to your neck. “You’re such a greedy thing, but no one else can do this for you, can they?” You swallowed hard, closed your eyes, and debated whether or not you wanted to argue. “Can they?” he repeated, his teeth nipping at your flesh.

“W-well,” you started, deciding by his tone that you were not going to allow him to again argue that what he had done was right. You were not going to grant him any leeway that permitted him a chance to argue that his double-standards were anything that you would agree to. “Maybe I didn’t pick the right guy.” A hum preceded the moment he set a hand at your throat and squeezed. You locked gazes with him. Smirked, the expression widening as his pupils dilated then constricted. No matter what he might say, Kylo Ren loved the fight. “I might have you watch someone else fuck me.”

“...fuck…” His upper lip curled, and you witnessed the conflict run through him. He had to be remembering the Knights of Ren with their conquests. The grip on your throat tightened as Kylo shifted his face further down your body, kissing your chest. His hand left; he groped and kneaded the places his mouth touched while making his way across your stomach until finally his lips hovered over your pussy. “We’ll see.” It was uncertain if he was stating an interest in this scenario or countering with a we’ll see if you’ll want that after I’m done with you. Neither option had you shying away from his attention.

His next kiss was deceptively gentle and afterwards he drew back until you once more met his gaze. Ensnared by him, you felt your breath hitch as he slipped his tongue between your folds. "Ah!" The muscles in your stomach were already tightening in anticipation. This was not the first time he had tested the amount of times he could make you cum before you all but passed out. Still, it had been a while since the last time. Kylo used the Force to bind your ankles and spread your legs further apart. He swirled his tongue along you, running its underside against your clit. There was a pause in his attention, which caused you to whimper and knit your brow. He worked open the front of his bottoms and drew out his cock, which twitched in his grasp as it grew hard.

Once more did he climb up your body. It sent your heart racing more than it already had been. The Force increased in strength. Kylo settled himself atop you so that his cock nestled between your outer lips. He brushed along your clit, making you grow more wet. “Such a greedy thing. Wanting to cum so desperately that you touched yourself when he disappointed you.” He knew you so well. Another cruel chuckle, this one sending chills down your spine as you felt his cock pulsate against you. Kylo rocked back and forth, teasing you without making any move to thrust inside of you. He was so patient when he wanted to be; vindictive at times. You wondered just how long he would drag this out. If you begged, he might prolong the delivery of your next orgasm. On the other hand, if you did not beg that could yield the same unwanted result.

Binding your wrists together above your head with his power, Kylo Ren thrust his hips forward so that he slipped up and down against you, fucking your outer lips. He rocked quickly, his hands on your waist as he pressed you more tightly against himself to increase the friction. You panted under him, your sensitive body screaming as you felt yourself burning with desire and overstimulation.

“So desperate to be filled,” he growled. The tendrils on your chest resumed their movement in earnest. His hands were on your ass, spreading them, massaging them. You squirmed as best you could in your bound state as a pressure prodded experimentally at you. You tensed as it began to push inside. Kylo’s mouth slammed atop yours to swallow your next groan. The new tendril fucked in and out of you in time with undulation of his hips. The tendrils pinched your nipples, tugging them more harshly than they had before. You felt as though your entire body was filled with electricity, sparks flashing behind your eyelids as they fluttered closed.

“Oh...fuck...yes!” The vein on the underside of his shaft caressed your clit as he used the Force to fuck you. Kylo pulled away without ceasing his abuse of the Force; he grabbed the back of your head and urged your mouth onto his cock. The first snap of his hip was rough. The head hit the back of your throat, and you fought to suppress a gag. Kylo’s fingers tensed on your head. Yet another new Force tendril slipped inside of you. I should have known, you thought while outwardly moaning. He filled you completely.

Kylo's thumbs massaged into your scalp as he fucked your face at a relentless pace. Tears leaked down your face. The discomfort you felt in your jaw was nearly drowned by the pleasure surging through you. The Force stroked along your walls, swirling on your clit. It pushed your breasts towards one another then pulled them towards the side. You screamed weakly as he tugged your third release from you. The vibrations that occurred as a result had Kylo swearing, his cock twitching and hot spurts of cum coating your tongue. You swallowed repeatedly, working to breathe through your nose as best you could.

Kylo Ren relinquished his hold on you only after you swallowed all of his cum and his cock was softened. You whined low in your throat. Fluttered your eyelashes at him. He smirked conspiratorially at you. Neither of you were finished with the other. As he stepped backwards, you grabbed at your shirt with trembling hands. It was a struggle to remove the clothes that had managed to cling to you throughout the first three orgasms; normally Kylo had you naked before he took off his pants, be it all the way or only partially. It was a rare thing for him to undress completely unless he was going to train or shower. There were other rare occasions, the majority of them involving the fact that it made whatever activities he had planned easier to execute.

This was why your eyebrows rose in delight and nervousness as Kylo began to mimic you in undressing. You ran your tongue along your lips. Pressed your thighs together. “Do you want me to kill her, little slut?” he asked. Your lips parted and you searched his face while trying to determine how serious he was being. “I could fuck you in her blood. Maybe have you cum as she screams in pain.” You knew what he was picturing. Not using the Force to kill her, no. He would have you on his cock while he impaled her with the lightsaber. You averted your gaze, earning another dark chuckle. “Perhaps I will.” His clothing landed on the floor in uneven piles.

Naked, he started to close the distance. You scooted backwards a fraction until you were forced to stop. His power locked you in place. “Kylo,” you whimpered. He grunted in response without pausing in his steps. Kylo placed one foot firmly on your chest and shoved you onto your back. At the same time, he bent two fingers, jerking your head so that you were once more meeting his gaze. “I was thinking of fucking a stormtrooper.” The words left you before you had any time to think on them. Why did I say that?

The amusement he felt showed itself in full. You saw his shoulders shake, his mouth working, eyes pinching. “A stormtrooper.” So condescending. You felt yourself start to pout. Frustration boiled within you. From Supreme Leader down to a lowly stormtrooper.

"Yes," you said, suddenly emboldened as a thought struck you. "If I'm his first, I'd get to train him. Tell him where to touch me. How to fuck me. Feel him squirm as I take his cock into my mouth."

He gripped your jaw roughly with a single hand. "Greedy whore." He spit on your mouth and you licked along your lips, not backing down. The growl that emerged from his throat sent heat through your body, a throb of desire to your cunt. He rolled you onto your hands and knees then pressed down on your back, your ass in the air against him. You knew he was not quite ready to fuck you again, however that was not going to stop Kylo from teasing you. “Already wet again.” You chewed on your lips then pouted. The Force bound your wrists together, stretching your arms past your head. The position he had you in was not the most comfortable, however you had been in stranger ones. Anything more intense or that you did not agree with, that was what he used other women for. The thought struck you: used. A sigh of contentment issued from you as you rocked backwards into him, smearing your juices along his cock.

“Don’t ever let them cum,” you murmured. A hand landed on your rear, the spanking jolting you. You moaned at the pain that mingled with your pleasure. “Have them beg you.” Another slap, this one echoing in the room. “Ah!” He hated it when others tried to take command. “Fuck, I can’t believe you fucked her.” You rested your forehead on your arm. The next spanking was lighter, the hand lingering on your flesh. “I hate her.”

“Very well.” Your breath hitched. There would be no changing his mind, and conflict rolled through you as you considered the fact that you had just signed the woman’s death warrant. Kylo slid his hand along the curve of your ass until he was able to slip two fingers into you. They bent and unbent, thrusting in and out. You clenched around them. Shoved aside any thoughts of the other woman; she meant nothing. A tingling ran throughout your body. Joy, the knowledge that you meant something. More of your insecurities rolled away, as they often did when Kylo reminded you through his actions that you were, ultimately, who he wanted.

The pad of his thumb skimmed over your clit.Your abdominal muscles tightened, your stomach cramping a little, albeit not in a way that dissuaded you from moaning and wanting his touch to linger. Kylo pressed his body against yours. His stomach was on your back, the muscles hard, defined. Teeth skimmed along the back of your neck. The noise that left you was a cross between a growl and a whine. Kylo spread your outer lips with three fingers then twisted his wrist, teasing each area with subtle touches. The heat in your body lit up in sparks that traveled down to your toes, which you bent. Your body arched away from his touch then you forced yourself to push back into it. He was keeping you on the edge, and you had anticipated this given your long history with him.

“Kylo,” you whined, your resolve breaking a little. “Please.”

His responding grunt preceded the moment his hand abandoned your pussy. You swore under your breath, repeating the curse as you felt his body starting to respond to yours again. “I’m going to fuck you raw.” Was that a threat or a promise? He pushed the head of his cock into you, spearing you open. Your mouth opened in a silent o and your eyelids fluttered. He knew what angles were best, had memorized your body long ago. “When I fuck the others...if they cum…” A dark chuckle. You shuddered. “Should I?” Should he kill them for cumming?

“Fuck!” He bit into your shoulder, enough to leave a mark without drawing blood. Heat seeped into the area. Kylo pushed inside of you inch by inch until he was fully seated. Your body tightened around his. Shudders ran through you with every dirty and violent promise and implication made. He kept his voice low, husky, as though the violence and pleasure was interchangeable. Perhaps it was. “I don’t know…”

“I do.” He licked along the bite mark, venturing up the side of your neck to your jawline. “You’re a demanding, greedy little slut.” You clenched around his cock again. Kylo began to pull away only to push back in. The head struck your cervix. With the next thrust, he angled himself differently. One hand was on your abdomen so that he could feel himself through you. The tip of his middle finger rolled your clit, nudged it side to side. “You’re perfect like this. On my cock. Where you’re meant to be.”

You rolled your hips back into his, meeting his next thrust. There was no anger in his words. The tints of jealousy empowered you. He wanted you to himself, which was endearing in its own way. You released a thoughtful hum. This earned another growl. How powerful you felt in that moment. You could drive the Supreme Leader of the First Order wild. His cock throbbed inside of your cunt. You felt it strike along your walls, stroking the part of you that sent electricity throughout every one of your limbs. He bucked his hips more harshly the next time, the heel of his hand pushing on your pubis and his fingers toying with you. He manipulated you from outside and within. His lips sealing along your jaw. Moving until you turned your head and let him claim your mouth. One hand journeyed up to your breasts, groping. This grasp was more firm than when he had used the Force.

The tendrils returned to travel on your body and touch wherever his hands weren’t. Tears flooded your eyes as your mind screamed in delight at the attention. He filled your body with the Force, fucking you completely as he began to thrust into you with vigor. “Cum on my cock,” he hissed your ear. You nearly blacked out as you came, the world around you becoming a distant echo. All that you were conscious of were the sensations in your body and the way Kylo was moving in you to seek his own release. His cum filled you as you were coming down from your high.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “That was good.”

“We’re not done yet.” You wanted to groan, but whether it was in delight or despair, you did not know. Kylo kissed your shoulder. “Poor thing. He couldn’t satisfy you.” Another bite, this one a little higher than the last. “I’m going to fuck you until my name is the only thing you know to say.” This groan was most definitely in delight.

[swiss-mrs]

Let There Be War (2/?)

(Clyde Logan || Hunger Games: Catching Fire AU)

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: None (?)

You stood just off the stage with the other tributes, dressed to the capitals standards. Your tense shoulders evident the near sheer, secondskin-like, sleeves of the dress you wore. All the tributes lined up next to their respective counterparts from their districts. Everyone one in order from 1 to 12, you stood by yourself. Though a few rows behind you, you could feel Clyde’s gaze on your back. Ever since yesterday, he’d stolen glances at every chance he’d been provided with. You heard the que for you all to start filing on the stage, doing as such shortly after called. The crowd erupts into a variety of noises, cheers, gasps of awe, whistles, all of it. You looked into the audience, though blinded by the spotlight, and forced a small, fake smile to please the useless money carriers. Every contestant sat in their respective spots next to their partners, you alone on your own couch.

The interviews with each district’s representatives seemed to drone on, as they always do. Threes finished their time in the spotlight; it was finally your turn. Host Flickerman stood to his feet as he announced you with his booming voice and a smile on his face. You put the most convincing smile on as you could, it seeming to work as the crowd went wild. “Ooooh, Would you look at that beautiful smile on our lovely mermaid queen!?” The eccentric man bellowed rhetorically towards the audience as you made your way to him, getting a cheek touch and kiss noise on each side of your face once reaching your destination. “The stunning goddess of the sea! How nice to see you again!” He exclaimed. “Especially so well dressed as we love to see!” He motioned to your body before practically throwing your hand into the audience, his way of telling you to show off your figure for everyone’s prying eyes to pick apart. You do your best walk and near the end of the center stage.

The ever cheering mass of people cheered on louder, excited for your reveal. Your dress hugged every beautiful curve of your body in the most flattering way you’d ever seen it. The fabric was skin tight and allowed for your glowing skin tone to peek through the shiny, reflective fish scale detailing, your extremities blurred with seamlessly blended undergarments but left little to the imagination. The dress flared out in a soft flowy matter just at the bend of your knees. As you moved, the side detailing from the hips down of the dress flowed like a blanket octopus and seemed to defy gravity as it gave the illusion of floating underwater. Getting to the que, you lifted your arms outwards from your body slightly, rippling them like a wave running from your shoulders through your wrists and leaving your fingers. The slight separation exposed the gill like webbing detail connecting your forearms to your breasts and rib cage. Each movement you had, breath of your expanded ribs, ignited a pulsing glow that ran through lines that outlined the curves of your figure in beautiful designs. It made you look like the most hypnotizing, fantasy sea creature, or rather the utter representation of the ocean’s beauty.

You heard gasps and sighs of wonder harmoniously mingle together, both from the crowd and some from those on stage. It made you grow a little shy but it only brought the host to speak up again, “The ocean is blessed with a humble goddess. The ocean blesses us with its generosity, sharing you with us here today.” He sighed out dramatically, his reemerging voice bringing you your que to come back to his couch to begin your interview, interrogation. “Alright, my beauty. How are you doing today?”

“I am…” You sigh and think of an answer. “The best I have been in a long while.” you fake confidently, faux pride flooding your face. This raises the brows of the colorful man sitting across from you.

“Oh?” He pushes. You nod.

“Being here, representing my district with such honor, being able to go forward with much more confidence than the last time I was on this stage, it all swells my heart with pride and merit.” You tilt your chin up, poised. This brings a delighted smile into the face of the almost unsettling, expressive man in front of you. He leans back into his seat and clasps his hands together in one loud clap in glee.

“I am so happy to hear that.” he rests his arms on the chair’s. “You are truly a goddess. Responsible, assured, and a true lead by example.” He abruptly leans back forward, resting his elbows on his knees, completely changing his dexterity, serious and prying. “But how is it having to go at this without a team member? Does it make you feel disadvantaged? Worried? Hmm.”

“Actually,” you look from him to the crowd, “I think quite the opposite,” looking back to him. He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side, curious as a cheshire cat, wordlessly edging you on. “I believe in this game, it essentially is everyone for themselves. Though we go in as a duo, in the end there can only be one.” you raise your brow with regal-like determination. “I have all the skills I need and am army enough within myself. Everyone here will have to betray their own in this game at some point. I will remain loyal to myself and to my people. Honoring them with my victory, as I have done before. My will and my confidence will not be broken. I am all I need in this fight and I will represent District Four well.” This brings Caesar to a laugh as one of a proud father.

“That is what we like to hear!” He cheers, the crowd following him. You turn your head to face the crowd, nodding your head as a small bow. “Spoken like the Royalty you are.” he muses.

The host converses with you a little longer about your personal life, though there isn’t much to discuss. “So you are telling me that there is No Mr. in the picture?” You shake your head, confirming it. “Oh my Games!” he shouts, flinging his arms up in disbelief. “You’re telling me not a single suitor swept you off your feet? You have to be pulling my leg. You must be! You are way too great of a catch, pardon my pun,” he interrupts himself to nudge the air, winking and give a guilty smirk and a raise of his left eyebrow, you forcefully giggling to appease him, “to be single after all this time!” You shrug, insisting the truth. “Unbelievable.” He addresses the camera, “Men of District Four,” shoving a pointed finger, “How dare you leave the most beautiful woman within your reach, single.” He shakes his head, disappointed, turning his attention back to you. “Well, my dear, it was lovely speaking with her majesty of District Four.” He giggles at himself, “All I can hope for you is success and true love.” he brings his hand up to the corner of his mouth, poorly hiding it from the rest of the contestants on the stage. “Hopefully it isn’t found during the games.” He mutters with a knowing look, nodding his head in the direction of where the tributes of Twelve sat behind Seven. “Like the other lovebirds we know.” he concludes, jokingly. “But I mean…” he leans in further to you, “the lumberjack definitely gots the looks.” he whispers, teasingly, giggling. None of his ‘secretive’ gestures actually serve a point as this is all televised and amplified, but that was all his point, unsettling playfulness to distract the viewers of the fact that a group of people are put in the same room only to kill each other the next day. A glamorized hunting sport. You look over to Clyde, almost unable to hide the longing in your shared gaze. The moment goes unnoticed by the host as he is turned to the crowd, raising from his seat in a grand gesture with mentions of an applause and your exit. You stand and give a smile and a curtsy before taking a seat back to your lonesome couch for two.

Fives go up for their turn, but by the time they make it to where you stood, you’ve already gone deaf to the world. You go off into a distant daze, staring down at the back of Three’s seat in front of you. Clyde’s gaze stayed with you the entirety of being seated, failing to catch your attention while in your state.

-----------------

part twooooooooooo

next part is the start of the gameeeesssssssss

oooooooooooooooooo

hope you liked it even though it’s kind of fillery

here’s the art the dress was based off of (though i imagines it to be a bit less monochrome) in case my description was at all confusing

@clumsycopy​ @douglasdriver​

[bangtancentricsblog]

↳ welcome ghouls to this year’s spoopy season party! I’m more than happy to be a host this year, below you will find the delicacies we’ve prepared for this years menu. please help yourselves and enjoy; but don’t forget to mind the other guests

(A/a) - angst (C/c)- crack (F/f)- fluff

(H/h)- humor (S/s)- smut

(👻) - spooky

**lowercase letters signify small amounts of angst etc.

day 1 - vampire diaries

❍ seokjin • A, F(?) •

↳ the tales of vampire boy who’s lived long enough

day 2 - red devil

❍ yoongi •F, a •

 ↳ the beast from another realm loves a mortal meta human

day 3 - soul eater

❍ hoseok •A•

 ↳ you should’ve kept your distance because he didn’t only eat souls, he broke hearts too

day 4 - a werewolf in the suburbs

❍ namjoon • A/F/c/H •

 ↳ just your friendly neighborhood werewolf trying to keep his secret well a secret

day 5 - faek friends

❍ jimin • •

↳ not all things last, least of all friendships

day 6 - when we all fall asleep, where do we go?

❍ taehyung • •

 ↳ the bringer of dreams transcends time and only appears in the dark

day 7 - bewitched

❍ jungkook • •

 ↳ a wolf who’s fallen in love with one mean bitch witch

day 8 - let it burn

❍ special

□ yoongi, jungkook & jimin • F / A / s •

 ↳ you would watch it burn for what they have done

day 9 - ghoulish

❍ seokjin • •

↳ he was ravenous and nothing would stop him

day 10 - with a side of hot sauce

❍ yoongi • •

↳ the mortician is easy on the eyes to bad his eating habits are less than appealing

day 11 - can’t you see me?

❍ hoseok • •

↳ there were no such things as ghosts, right?

day 12 - the grass is not always greener

❍ namjoon • •

↳ life was everywhere except when it wasn’t

day 13 - like fire and brimstone

❍ jimin • •

↳ it was all fun and games till you get burnt

day 14 - it’s alive!

❍ taehyung • •

↳ the mad scientist just wanted a friend

day 15 - a demons bride

❍ jungkook • •

↳ “and you my beauty shall be my bride”

day 16 - through the trees

❍ special • •

□ ot7 x reader

↳ don’t leave your house after dark

day 17 - beastly

❍ Jin • •

↳ not all creatures of the night were as fearsome as you’d been told

day 18 - deep in the dark

❍ yoongi • •

↳ gateways were everywhere you just needed to know how to use them

day 19 - bump in the night

❍ hoseok • •

↳ local legends just might be true sometimes

day 20 - practical magic

❍ namjoon • •

↳ “when I wish upon a star, no matter how far, I wish for”

day 21 - rip and tear

❍ Jimin • •

↳ when Jack was more like Jill

day 22 - mother of demons

❍ Taehyung • •

↳ not all mothers were demons, just like not all demons were mother but you were the mother of demons

day 23 - masked front

❍ Jungkook • •

↳ his mask was crafted by the gods, with no imperfections; perfect for hiding behind

day 24 - cosplay, costumes or roleplay?

❍ special • •

□

↳ it’s not a college party if something weird doesn’t happen especially on Halloween

day 25 - into the deep

❍ Jin • •

↳ something lurks deep in the dark

day 26 - hindered hunger

❍ yoongi • •

↳ sometimes feeding wasn’t the easiest, especially when your prey was all to willing

day 27 - just a bite

❍ hoseok • •

↳ “just a little bit, just a bite.”

day 28 - wrapped up

❍ namjoon • •

↳ life after death didn’t seem to bad

day 29 - unraveled

❍ Jimin • •

↳ “the scents alone were enough to suffocate her, so pungent it fogs up her brain and makes her mouth water.”

day 30 - stigma

❍ Taehyung • •

↳ temptation was a sin but no one would fault you if you enjoyed it

day 31 - madness

❍ Jungkook • •

 ↳ you can't always be the knight in shining armor sometimes you’re the monster wearing a glamor

*** all works are subject to change please bear with me!