theglamour-theterror

[theglamour-theterror]

update just added a pirate to make her the mad scientist's new love interest

#your thg oc is a pirate

[theglamour-theterror]

Even as Alex grabs Anh’s hands and squeezes tightly, her palm is freezing cold, and so is his. The flicker that died between the two of them has gone out so long ago that not even smoke remains. The burnt marks they shared are but scars, not remarkable enough to be hideous, a story untold, only felt, and cannot be seen. Their matching wounds closed off so they’re no longer painful, they can’t even ache, as they’ve healed into each other as if flesh knitting above skins.

Shared pain lost between translation, hers also twisted into his, his made into hers, and their words exchanged carry and deliver nothing. 

Familiarity may be a facet of the promise that binds them together, but obligation isn't the only thing that grabs them and stitches them together, making them stay.

Clementia died a long time ago. Her first love, his older sister.  But neither of them can recall Clementia's face, and Alex notices how Anh sometimes can’t help but try to look for Clementia in him, and even so they’re nothing alike and Anh isn’t the type to indulge in needless nostalgia. Maybe they were friends because of this. Maybe they were friends still because he trusts her to own her emotions, and hers is always something he admires, something he hoped for, and also his biggest fear. Then she keeps jabbing her needles into his eyes and he isn’t sure anymore. There’s no use to dwell on it. He already saw it coming. They’re mice trapped in a glue trap.

“Why did you kill her?” Anh whispers, dripping, poison.

“Please stop,” Alex says, and he feels kind of silly, kind of stupid, still. Children fights are harmless outbursts of tantrums coming to a headcrash, they’re inconsequential, a hilarity, and it’s useless to fight back. It’s the exact reason why he tries to fight her now. Who are they but children? The part of their souls that melted together were still kids. Here where they’re stuck together, their shared childhood is coming back to haunt them. Think a slow boiling stool, hissing on the stove, cracked open, steam filling the room.

#oc #thg oc #my writing #my art #the hunger games oc

[theglamour-theterror]

thg OC. No warning applied Minh Anh and her crush, and her crush's little brother that she hates very much

Minh Anh has lived here all her life but she has never seen anyone who is as compassionate and pure as Clementia Mitchell, especially since when she first saw her she was 5 and Clementia was 8, and being 5 meant she had already seen a lot of people. Most of them are miserable. Not Clementia Mitchell. That didn’t change for Anh, growing up, and if anything, she only became even more convinced of her home’s total misery; this bleak, dreadful, boring place where everyone was meant to die, and that Clementia was the sole exception, the only one with warmth, not like the sun shining down above but homely, comfortable, keeping them alive.  The other Mitchell sibling, though. They were in the same class. Even with her total apathy towards her peers (useless, clueless children), somehow she even found herself increasingly annoyed with Mitchell. The thing is, she can’t decide if the kid was extremely stupid like the others, or even clever somehow and was just pretending to be dumb. Mitchell’s scores were perfect. Mitchell memorizes their materials to a fault. In Civil Introductory, when their teacher quizzed them about what they were given by the State, probably only expecting fragments of generic trivia- the kid had managed to read out the written article word for word without even looking at the text, before giving a comprehensive analysis. Anh knew, she checked, she watched, and she memorized it too. Anh also remembered being extremely confused by its total contradiction to their practical implication. Which Mitchell has decided to ignore in its completion.

Anh raised her hand. She said, “If Panem’s Treaty of Treason was created to protect its people, then why are we still sending children to The Hunger Games? Don’t they also hold citizenship, and thus, supposedly under its protection?”

Anyway, she ended up being sent out and she was also given detention. But she knew she was right so she insisted on being right, and when she was punished for voicing something so obvious, she became agitated.

She singled Mitchell (the lesser one) out. She watched their schedule and routine. When she made sure she knew when they were alone, she set up a trap. Its general purpose was to dump a can of milk on their head, because they were taller and she couldn’t reach so high, and she didn’t want them to know it was her.

She messed up. Perhaps she stood a little bit too close, her curiosity getting a bit better off her, so when they were assaulted and they looked around they managed to catch her eyes. The culprit became obvious. She had run off, mentally coming up with plans to counter should a report be made against her (the kid had no proof! Clementia would hate her!) but then no reports were ever made, and it irritated her even more.

She didn’t even have time to confront them before they approached her first. “Sorry,” they said first, standing over her table. Their hands cupped together, and they looked so sheepish they might be having a tail between their legs, ears flat down on their head. “For the other day,” “What?” “Yeah,” they nodded, and walked off.

#thg oc #my writing

[theglamour-theterror]

oc drabble. no warning applied. Alex gets his tattoo

Alex doesn’t expect it to hurt when the needle pierces through his skin, a sharp twinge too familiar, similar to falling and scratching his knees as a kid. That is, when it happens the lighting above his head is still bright and clear, gaining his total focus. He can feel everything now.

“It’s not recommended to inject anesthesia when tattooing,” M.Anh explains, as if reading his thoughts even though he didn’t say anything, didn’t even wince. “I thought you knew that already.”

“Excuse my memory,” he sighs. “I didn’t know getting a tattoo was supposed to be painful at all.”

“It was. The old fashioned way, which is the correct way it’s done.”

Alex doubts this very much. But, once M.Anh decides upon something, swaying her proves to be impossible. In the same way M.Anh knows exactly when he’s in distress, Alex can read the grin in her voice when she goes into explaining the details of it, despite the void of emotions displayed. Perhaps she’s trying to calm him down. He has a long standing suspicion that his pain wouldn’t stop her either way, whether out of pure curiosity or sadistic enjoyment he isn’t sure, but he nods in agreement anyway, and like always, completely losing what she’s telling him.

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Of course.”

While Anh is crafty and intricate, Anh is not a tattoo artist, not even an artist, not in a traditional sense. Anh is a technician, and Anh has a great deal of experience when it comes to handling the delicacy of machinery and mechanics. But Anh has never drawn on human skin. The human skin is not as tough as the metallic gearing of a machine. 

Alex is not a puppet, his skin is soft and sensitive just like any other person. So when he lets Anh pierce into his skin and draws onto him, her ink and needles a little bit more robotic, a little more force than usual, it’s the pain that reminds him of what he actually is.

They spent their childhood together. Alex had watched her tinker with all sorts of things she could lay her hands on. She pulled tits and bits from donations to the Orphanage, mostly old technology and junks, and fixed a radio. They had listened to all sorts of things.

So no, Anh isn’t an artist. But she has the ability to create wonders from nothing, and she’s the only one Alex trusts to do this to him. Trust, in its narrowest sense.

#thg oc #original character #my writing #alexandrite mitchell #theyre uh #friends #it's complicated #my art #character introduction

[theglamour-theterror]

Ask my OC Alex anything! For example: What's wrong with you

#thg oc #the hunger games oc #alexandrite mitchell

[theglamour-theterror]

smut drabble, oc/canon. otherwise no warning applied. haymitch gets it get it he gets it. he just. does. he deserves it. <3

Haymitch no longer knew what the devil was that made him agree to let Alex stick his rubber cock up his ass, but if he did knew, alas, he couldn't remember. He heard Alex's muffled chuckle on his shoulder and couldn't imagine his gentle gesture from before, when they were still messing around. Even though the man's charm was more than enough to make him give in, he still felt like he was about to die. "Fuck- Easy," he gritted his teeth, gasping for breath, his growls rolled and knitted together, like the way he clutched the bedsheets. "Ah," Alex chuckled sweetly. "But you're the one who asked me to be rough. I'm doing you a favour." Haymitch shivered. If he were sober, he would still remember the way he always complained about Alex's constant guard. Always so careful, so scared to touch, as if he thought Haymitch was somehow fragile. None of that anymore. Haymitch let out another string of curses, but there was no longer any of his usual power. Like he was desperate to impose control, and failing miserably. Of course, it's too late to complain at this point. To be completely blunt , Haymitch wasn't in over his head. He had already expected this, from the way Alex's gaze lingered, the way he leaned towards him, and he couldn't help but wanted to push, wondering- What again? Alex kept thrusting into him. His long body took up all all of Haymitch's breathing space, desire rolling in waves, drowning him, suffocating him. He thought vaguely, that maybe this was what they meant, when curiousity killed the cat. How curious indeed. It was easy to tell then how much Alex needed him. Physical desires usually only stopped at a certain point, and Haymitch wasn't anything gorgeous. But with Alex it was different. For the first time in Haymitch's long life, he felt like he was cared for. Somehow, it didn't bother him too much. Maybe he already tired himself out, acting all tough. He felt Alex pushed his hair aside and placed a soft kiss on his nape. Felt the foreign affection. But Alex's pace didn't slow down one bit, his breathe tingled as his lips hovers above Haymitch's ear, whispering sweet nothing. “Hang in there,” he crooned. “Just a little more. Can you do that? Just hang in there. Please? You're doing so well." Haymitch jerked. Those words were enough to make his heart ache. He knew Alex's words were only so, they carry no weigh, like feather. That still, those meaningless words were still what he was truly thinking for him. Such obvious clash between calming words and feverish actions both showed how much Alex was holding on, clinging on to him in every way. Haymitch allowed- no, he needed this so much. "Thank you for letting me do this," Alex said, his arms wrapping around him, pulling Haymitch in, and he almost couldn't hear him. "It's so difficult, before." “I love you,” Alex whispered. “I love you so much. Really." The gentle, pleasant feeling mixed with crazed pleasure caressed him, and he was drunk. It was no exaggeration to say, the feeling of being loved by others is something that no alcohol can compare to.

#close your eyes #porn what plot #the hunger games #haymitch abernathy #alexandrite mitchell #thg #the hunger games oc #oc #thg oc #oc x canon #my writing #it's so hard getting alex to fuck him because he loves haymitch too much to do that u get me #like you dont vandalize your god it's sacrilegious #smut #yeah just look away

[theglamour-theterror]

vampire empire

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oc/canon short fic. warning for. uh implied self-harm self destructive tendencies. but seriously what were you expecting like.

Alex made the mistake of trying to nudge Haymitch awake when he passed out drunk, still holding his knife in his lap. He didn’t flinch away when Haymitch lunged at him. The slice left a long cut, right down his cheek just under his eyes.

Haymitch doesn’t sleep with his knife anymore. Everytime he could swear he keeps far away from it, but then every time he wakes, he finds it tucked into his hand anyway.

“I know you have no sense of self-preservation,” Haymitch tells Alex, not knowing who to be more furious at, himself or him. “But if this keeps on, I won’t allow you in my house anymore.”

“If what keeps on?”

“You know damn well,” Haymitch says, slamming the door.

He already knows that isn’t the end of the conversation. Then he finds Alex sitting in the same spot in the evening, motionless, knife in hand, his face covered in blood, he just wishes it doesn’t come so soon.

His first instinct was to walk right back out. So what if this man has some kind of twisted death wish? It isn’t his problem. Still, it doesn't take much for him to snatch the thing away, Alex doesn’t even resist. Perhaps he is just as drunk as Alex was high, he doesn’t know.

“I pulled my stitches,” Alex simply says. He leans his head to the side as Haymitch examines the wound, and he’s staring at Haymitch. “Stitches feel weird,” Alex keeps on. At least he’s talking. Haymitch would much rather deal with a rambling Alex than Alex when he’s silent, shut down. “Back in the Capitol, we had this scanner that closes up wounds in a matter of minutes. Like it was never there.”

“Welcome to the world,” Haymitch says, knowing full well what Alex is talking about. “Why don’t you bring one of those things with you anyway? In short supply?”

“It’s not a priority,” Alex hums.

Haymitch tries to keep his voice even, then. “Not a priority how?"

Alex holds his gaze, blandly, he says. “It just isn’t.”

Haymitch laughs. These are the kinds of things Alex says that makes Haymitch feel like he’s going mad. It’s not a priority so it shouldn’t be bothered. It’s only a minor inconvenience that his face is covered in blood. Why? It just is! There’s nothing to worry about at all! His hand shakes too much to stitch Alex’s wound back for him. Now that he recalls the way Alex stands in his spot after receiving that wound from Haymitch, he doesn’t know what to think. He feels like he has an inkling of what it means, but he pushes it down. It was Haymitch who had to do all the panicking for him. And Haymitch had enough heartache for a lifetime. The complete lack of reaction, same as now, is threatening to drive him over the edge.

Still, being mad at Alex is pointless. He stiffens back his laughter and grins at him still, tilting his head, watching.

“Would save me a lot of trouble, you know. I can’t keep stabbing you and stitching you back up again forever.”

The bluntness gets an ounce of reaction from Alex. “You didn’t stab me on purpose. It was an accident.”

“And the knife keeps reappearing by my side everytime I wake up is also an accident?”

This is what confused him the most. Alex doesn’t say anything right away. Haymitch knows he has hit the mark, and it’s only the matter of being patient enough to get him to admit this, for the both of them to move anywhere.

“I thought you’d need it.”

“Ah! Thank you very much! Stabbing people in my drunken wakes is a dying need for me, I’m sure. No risk of household violence or anything.” Haymitch scoffs, and waits. Waits for Alex to make another lousy attempt to defend himself, defend Haymitch, for Haymitch to point out the absurdity of the situation, to tell him that it’s dangerous. That way, he can put a stop to it, once and for all.

Yet Alex doesn’t bother to respond to his sarcasm. Alex’s silence just almost confirms all of his worst fears together, he can’t help but push for the final time.

“I could hurt you. What were you thinking?”

Alex drops his head. His voice lowers to an octave.

“Doesn’t matter.”

So Alex does know.

He just doesn’t care.

As if something just exploded for Haymitch.

“Excuse me?”

“I never asked for your help,” Alex falls back to that obvious defense, easy to counter, at least.

“No, you don’t get to say that. You’re under my roof,” Haymitch snaps quickly. “You don’t get to die in my house.”

“Do you?” Alex drawls. “Do you get to die in your house, more than I do?”

For some reason Haymitch knows for an instant, what he’s getting to. Being called out as hypocrisy is the last thing Haymitch expects from Alex. In total bafflement he leaves Alex an opening, curious of the lows Alex can go at.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Alex’s voice is hoarse, yet infuriatingly leveled.

“You’re angry. You’re depressed.”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with you.”

“You don’t have an outlet for your bottled up frustration. You’ll die if you don’t get one soon.”

Each word serves as fuel to his fury. Haymitch finds himself digging his hand into Alex’s half-stitched wound and keeps doing so even as the skin tears itself open, the blood leaking out and he doesn’t stop. He can’t help it. Not even when Alex winced and closed his eyes.

“So what if I am? Huh?"

#the hunger games #the hunger games oc #thg oc #haymitch abernathy #alexandrite mitchell #oc #vent mostly #there are wworse things to do #i can continue this but also. #my writing #they made each other worse #sense and sensibility...out of the window

[theglamour-theterror]

Omg happy 10 followers! In celebration feel free to send me some art request//questions for my OC Alex through the ask box and I'll deliver! Thank you all for your support!!

[theglamour-theterror]

HOW DO U RESPOND TO TUMBLR REBLOG TAGS LIKE??? THANK YOU

[theglamour-theterror]

dogcoded characters where they're loyal because everything else has been taken from them and they're desperately clinging onto any sense of purpose or meaning they can grasp. dogcoded because they're willingly made into a pet doing tricks for the ones that own them and they're aware of it all and embrace it. dogcoded where they could be sent to the shelter at any time but feels like they never will, because they're a big strong dog who attacks just right, hurts the right people, and doesn't recoil when they're pet or punished. dogcoded where they obey because if they don't the world is dark and cold and empty. dogcoded where they're trained to move on command, to sniff out downfalls and cracks in strength and manipulate them with their nails, all for the ones they heel to. when will i stop talking

#alex but only the first half #LAPDOG #as i point and laugh and cry #why do i write him like this just to suffer

[theglamour-theterror]

Clenching my fist* i need to draw him with cat ears

[theglamour-theterror]

...i like haymitch

#haymitch abernathy #the hunger games #thg #my art #GOOOOOOOOOOD like #lDKSDS #book accurate haymitch abernathy #save me #princess #deserving of nicest treatment #he's #yea................................. #compilation #nobody talk abt the first one #u have no idea

[theglamour-theterror]

Realized I didn't talk about Alex and Finnick enough here even though Alex currently works an escort for district Four. I feel like they do care for each other in their own way? It's just that Finnick sometimes looks to Alex for advices regarding Capitol dealing and Alex gives horrible ones (as they're self-destructive) explained nicely because it's all he knows

#posting to tumblr like it's twitter #tag what tag #thg oc #the hunger games oc #and he's Three years older see #thg #should i tag finnick #nah

[theglamour-theterror]

Sorry for talking abt coping methods as protection of one's image so much I watched NGE 2 years ago and the AT field thing just sort of stucks around. Now it's a constant theme.

#effie and her oblivious way #haymitch and his drunkeness #alex and #??? whatever the hell is happening in his brain #his complexes #like he treats his life as if it's a novel if that makes sense #plus paranoia

[theglamour-theterror]

hi since you're here pls look at my favorite freak of a man, my darling my dearest. that i made up in my head

#the hunger games oc #the hunger games #my art #oc #thg #original character #alexandrite mitchell #oc x canon #thg oc #sketch dump

[theglamour-theterror]

Pushing the Haymitch with earrings agenda

[theglamour-theterror]

Anyone wanna see a sketch dump