#<- they'll get a better tag eventually

[dracl-dragon]

i am. So tempted to make an rp blog for Mal's "puppets"

They're just silly lil guys

@itsgirlcraft

[songofsaraneth]

Here's another of my extra elaborate fortune tellers that I don't think I ever uploaded. This was made for a friend, so the inside (if completely unfolded) had a secret drawing resembling his most-used profile pic as well.

with this one i also figured out adding metal scrapbooking fixtures to the outer corners, to keep them from getting too banged up with use

[delightfullyquirkydoodles]

Mutuals are asleep, post Izutsumi cosplay.

[berrryparfait]

.☘︎ ݁˖ you belong with me

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: zayne, caleb, rafayel, sylus, xavier x fem!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: he's in an emotionally-abusive relationship with his girlfriend. what a waste—you're the one he truly has feelings for. 「leave her. you deserve better.」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: angst, micro-cheating (LI with reader), mentions of emotional abuse and cheating (girlfriend on LI), forbidden love, pining

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: what a shame – lizzy mcalpine, you belong with me – taylor swift

✧ a/n: don't worry guys, they'll find their happy endings eventually <3 lmk if you'd like a full-length !!

ZAYNE never speaks about her much. But you know she’s cheating on him. You’ve seen it yourself, the way she mysteriously disappears with Dr. Hemmings in the middle of the day. It kills him inside, and you ache for him. Why does he choose to endure such unfaithfulness—such disrespect? But you know it has to be more complicated than that. He’s an earnest man, one who would avoid hurting those around him at all costs, even if that cost is his heart. You find solace in the fact that he has a friend in you, someone he knows he can rely on. “What are you doing, Zayne?” you ask him one night while on break. “You know they've been sneaking around.” He exhales slowly, breath fogging in the cold winter air. “It’s not that simple. She needs me.” Poor Zayne. Always so empathetic, always so forgiving. You hate it. “Your mind’s been twisted into thinking that…” He looks away then, almost afraid to meet your gaze. “I know. Just…give me some time, okay?” You inch closer to him, your arm brushing against his. “Don’t make this about me.” The thought of him breaking up with her just because you told him to rubs you the wrong way, and you cringe. He stares at you then, intense and grounding. “You know it’s about you.”

CALEB isn’t the type to take anything too seriously—though you really wish he would. He brushes her “midnight escapades” off as “meetings with friends”, though his car’s dashcam tells a different story. You’ve always been his closest friend, his only childhood friend. Maybe he doesn’t want you to worry. Or maybe he’s trying so desperately to convince himself that there’s nothing to worry about. The very first time, she’d come back to his college dorm drunk and smelling of another man’s cologne, and he hid in the bathroom throwing up all night. “She just likes to have fun, Pips,” he tells you, and the certainty in his voice enrages you. How could a person take advantage of someone who loves them like that? “She’s cheating on you. Leave her, Caleb.” He scoffs at your words and tries to act nonchalant about the heaviness of truth settling over him. Tension punctuates your phone call, crackling and alive. He’s surprisingly silent now, so different from his usual, carefree self. What has she done to him? “I don’t have anyone, Pips. I’d be all alone here.” Your eyes well with tears, and you hate that you can’t reach for him right now. Your palms hurt from the emptiness. “You have me.” You both sit in comfortable silence for the rest of the night, phones pressed flat to your cheeks.

RAFAYEL will never admit when he’s hurt. It just isn’t in his nature to be outwardly vulnerable like that, except maybe with you. He claims that it’s just a casual relationship—one he’ll eventually move on from. But you can tell by the way he sighs and laments that he has feelings for her. It’s also clear as day that she’s stringing him along, using him for temporary pleasure and getting off on the fact that he’s deeper in than she is. She tosses him aside and stands him up almost every chance she gets, and your stomach twists each time he says he doesn’t care. You can’t decide which is worse; the fact that he’s in love with her or the way he pretends not to be. “You like her, Raf. Admit it to yourself.” He ignores you, mildly annoyed. “Nah. I’m just passing the time.” A few awkward seconds pass. “...Well, I think you deserve better, for what it’s worth.” He raises an eyebrow at you, his defiance slipping. “Maybe if better landed on my doorstep tomorrow, I’d chase the opportunity.” His words sting, but you know he doesn’t mean it like that. He could never hurt you, not on purpose. Sometimes you even wonder if the only reason he’s never tried anything with you is to save you both from unnecessary pain. “Sorry. I’m working it out,” he whispers, averting his gaze. You manage a small smile and nod. “I know.”

SYLUS is naturally dominant. Intimidating. He’s never been one to cower from a fight or bow to others—which is why it hurts you all the more that he’s stuck in a relationship with a woman who treats him like shit. The way he makes excuses for her. Defends her. Puts up with her repeated offences—all for absolutely nothing in return. He’s not docile around her, but you can tell she’s really done a number on him. She’s turned him into more of a begrudging guard dog than a boyfriend, and it destroys you to see him like this, a mere semblance of his past self. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” Your words shock him, though he’s been worn out beyond emotion. That something between you has grown palpable, tangible, and you know he feels it too. “I need you to understand, Kitten.” He sounds pained, damaged. Exhausted. “I know it’s been hard for you. You have no idea…” You stare at the ground as hot, pathetic tears threaten to spill. He angles your face up by the chin to meet his, a look of promise and hope stealing his otherwise grave expression. “Wait for me. I’ll find a way out of this mess.”

XAVIER is quiet, reserved—his sentences saved for those smart enough to listen. Now, even those precious sentences have become a rarity. He doesn’t laugh anymore, those adorable crinkles in the corners of his eyes gone from existence. She manipulates him, treats him like a little puppy who would do anything for her—and knowing him, he would. Though you know it isn’t his fault, you sometimes wonder why he can’t just fucking leave. Why does he feel the need to stay by her side, to love her? It’s an act of betrayal in itself, against his own heart. He stormed out of his house once, clearly frazzled and trying as best as he can to reel his emotions in. “What happened this time?” He shuts the passenger door and stares straight ahead. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.” You take your hands off the wheel and spin around to face him. “You can talk to me, Xavier. I’m always here for you.” His misty blue eyes meet yours, and the air stills for a moment. “Yeah… You are. I’m glad I have you.” And though your heart squeezes painfully, hope fills you warm and fuzzy.

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[lilolebambi]

THE AFTERMATH OF BAMBI!READER'S AND PUPPY!CHRIS'S VOICEMAILS. . .

Chris stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. Days had passed since the voicemails, but still. You guys haven't talked.

He thought time would smooth it over. That things would just click back into place, like they always had. They hadn't.

Chris exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. How does he fix this? Is there a fix?

He wants to text you to reach out—But that wouldn't be right after what both of you admitted in those voicemails... he's honestly not even sure if you listened to them.

He bites his lip, mind zooming to figure out any non shitty way of getting in contact with you.

He shoots up immediately from his bed, planting his feet on the floor.

Cookies.

The ones you always make whenever you guys have a petty argument, the ones you always make whenever Chris says he isn't feeling good or feels sad.

Chris can make cookies.

Chris can't make cookies.

He's tried. So, so many times. And yet, somehow, the universe had decided that flour, sugar, and eggs will never bend to his will.

There's a reason why he's always the one sitting on the counter, watching you get covered in flour, giggling at the streak of batter on your cheek like this is some kind performance meant for him alone.

The last batch of cookies rests abandoned in the trash can—a tragic waste of chocolate chips and his good intentions. He can't how many times he's had to restart the recipe, standing there like a idiot every single time someone comes into the kitchen, rereading the instructions as if they'll magically change, finally start to make sense to him.

He gets it, eventually. When flours all in his hair and caked up on his hands.

He sucks in a deep breath as he rings the doorbell. It's not late, but it's you—You can barely make it through the day without a nap.

Chris's relief is immediate when your groggy figure makes its way to the door. Even more when you open it. "Chris....?" You mumble, rubbing your eye sleepily, blinking him into focus.

He swallows hard, gripping the container in his hands like it might anchor him. Like it might steady him when his heart is anything but.

"Um... I–I made...you cookies."

The words come out uneven, but it's too late for him to take them back. He pushes the container forward, hands clumsy, unsure if you'll actually take it.

Then, softer—more raw—because he can't keep it in anymore. "I miss you. Really bad, Bambi."

Chris can already feel the tears gathering, blurring the edge of his vision. His lip trembles—enough to betray him, make him wish he could it hold together just a second longer.

But then, you smile.

That, familiar, achingly missed smile. The one that used to make everything feel better, the one that still does.

He's done for. Completely, absolutely done for.

You giggle, voice warm with something that Chris has been craving since the silence started. "C'mere you, big baby!

And that's it. The last bit of composure slips from his grip as he moves forward, pulling you close.

He's home.

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her. — Hozier.

a/n: if the lord didn't forgive me, i'd still have my baby and my babe would have me.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizmez @drewswife @strnilolover @sirensdollesque @courta13 @trulygentle @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @sugarraez @sweeethrt @moond0llie @ambi-squirrelly @wastelandzella @applecidersturniolo @riasturns @iloveduckssm @oopsiedaisydeer @sturnsflirt @cayleeuhithinknott @h3arts4nat @angelyearner @pink1man @sturnsblogs @mi-co-uk @slvt4subchratt @tezzzzzzzz @chrisbratt333 @izzylovesmatt @chrisowenmuncher

[spookierdeer]

OL EUA YUGQ G XGOYOT OT MXGVK PAOIK, OZ ZAXTY OTZU G MXGVK. NGVVE NGRRUCKKT! 🎃⚠️

(costume talk and yapping under the cut)

starting from back to the front:

stan and ford are handing out candy this year, stan dressed in his vampire costume and planning to scare kids and ford is wearing a mabel (turtleneck!) pumpkin sweater, about as festive as he's willing to dress up this year. ford was originally planning to hole himself up in his lab and work on data analysis or whatever nerd shit he has going on but stan invites him to help scare the hell out of kids. ford declines initially, better things to do, but after checking to see how stan's doing (badly), ford decides to help by bursting out of the bushes with a glowing laser gun, face cloaked in shadow. it's more fun than he expects or admits and he eventually fully joins stan.

soos and melody are trick or treating in a couple costume, soos as zelda and melody as link. melody wanted to cosplay link for awhile and you cannot convince me soos wouldn't jump at the chance to dress up as a badass anime elf princess who can fire lasers.

mabel, pacifica, and waddles are dressed as utena, anthy, and chu chu respectively. i have a headcanon that post working at the diner and slowly getting used to normal kid things, pacifica discovers anime. specifically shojo princess anime. she finds utena and loses her mind over it in private, with mabel eventually breaking down her walls and getting her to admit to the sin of liking anime. mabel gets pacifica to show her her favorites and mabel immediately insists they need to cosplay as utena and anthy for halloween, pacifica is a princess after all! (said in jest, but baby gay panic ensues on pacifica's end. mabel is pretty oblivious to her plight and doesn't realize why being pacifica's knight makes her feel so giddy until later on.)

dipper sees pacifica joining mabel as an excuse to flake out on trick or treating without being a total jerk, especially since they'll be joined by candy and grenda later. i know he's working on not trying to grow up too fast by the end of the series, but kids and teens are full of anxiety and doubts and i figure he would be pretty awkward about a lot of things still, even after learning otherwise. wirt doesn't want to dress up since the previous halloween ended with him in the unknown then waking up in the hospital, but greg still wants to go trick or treating. dipper tags along to help babysit greg despite it not really being necessary, wirt's just glad to have someone to chat with while he takes greg, especially someone who doesn't leap to finding him strange. greg is going as a ghost elephant and wirt assumes it's just the weird kid tradition of layering costumes over the years, but greg's logic is that he "died" as an elephant last year so now the elephant is a ghost. if wirt heard this he would probably end up freaked out, but kids are often more aware of things than expected. dipper is wearing wendy's hat since she traded with him at the end of the series.

putting wirt and greg in there could feel a little random, but these are my two favorite shows to watch during autumn and i associate them with each other. plus, it's otgw's ten year anniversary and it's so perfectly halloween, i think it makes enough sense to put them together. idk i love joy and whimsy, i am cringe and i am free.

i initally wanted to include other characters, candy, grenda, and wendy for sure but i was also considering coraline, wybie, and norman. felt way too complicated so maybe i'll draw something with those characters some other time.

[wafflexdguy]

I'm not sure if requests are open or not(as the ask thing says open and the fixed says closed lol), but could we have yandere twisted Vee?

Have a good day/night!

Authors note: Yeah, I forgot to edit the pinned post. Thats my fault. Anyways yes. Helpful reminder to read the tags once in a while :)

The NASA computer went crazy again.

She be looking for you lmao exdeee

================================================

Twisted Vee is already somewhat brutal by herself not being unhealthily obsessed with you. Mentioned previously she'll typically self-boast and unintentionally make you feel like -for lack of a better term- shit. This time is different. She'll intentionally make you feel like you're somewhat worth nothing, and the only value you have is to her.

This un-cunning and somewhat predictable tactic is typically played out via advertisements, TV commercials that are played throughout the various rooms in Gardenview. She isn't afraid to do this in front of other Toons as well, more often than not aware of the situation. She doesn't care; they can't do anything about it anyway- oh they're telling you to not go on runs with them anymore... hmmm.

As much as she hates to admit it, Vee knows she can't sneak into the lobby of the building. That'd be a death wish waiting to happen. Instead, she'll just make it inconvenient for you to be gone. If she kills them, then she runs the risk of you never coming back, that can't be allowed to happen! What ends up happening is that she'll intentionally lead Twisteds that only you can effectively deal with.

Toons with attentions span that of a gerbil? Looks like those distractors are useless now! Machine needs to be done faster? Yattta is conveniently preoccupied with a Twisted Pebble and Glisten is preoccupied with being too much of a pretentious douche to really do anything. Hmmmmmm the only Toon that somehow never gets all the Twisteds on them is you.... HMMMMMMM-

Oh hey, you're back! Time to shove manipulative ads down your throat!

Vee's first attempt at it failed because quite frankly, she wasn't accounting for the other Toons to actually do something about it. Miscalculation on her part, it won't happen again. And believe it, it won't happen again.

Vee's more calculative with it this time. Every time they realize what Vee is doing and tell you to sit one out, she does the same thing until they give in. The hope is that they'll eventually give up and see how useful you are, and that's where she goes in for the -figurative- kill.

She can't really kidnap you since... well, what's the point? She's not really all gung-ho about keeping you all to herself, she's more concerned about not letting anyone else have you. She wants you to be the one that ignores other Toons willingly, not force it. The running theory is that the other Toons eventually just stop having a relationship with you all together and that you'll rely more and more on her for emotional stability.

Is this plan really smart? Eh, depends on who you are. If you're able to see through this tactic, she'll just abandon any real sense since at that point her emotions would overcome her and she'll just outright threaten to kill the other Toons -particularly those you are close to- unless you stay. Preferably within her line of sight. Once every day.

"I miss you..."

"I'm right here."

"No, I miss you."

She knows what she's doing is wrong, and believe it or not, she's actually kind of conflicted about it. Her more logical side is telling her that you won't be happy like this. That keeping you like this is more likely to turn you into... turn you into... She doesn't like to think about that aspect.

On the other hand, her apathetic and standoffish side doesn't care and doesn't care if she gets you hurt in the process. Just as long as she gets to have you, who cares how you feel in the process. If it's any consolation, this side of her gets heavily muted in the final decision making of her plans with you.

Regardless of Vee questioning her own morals, one thing is clear: You're going to be hers, whether you like it or not. The best thing for you and others is to be cooperative. Since by that point, you likely have nobody to come to your aid.

[veltana]

Stranded - 1

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1,3 k

✦ Rating: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Grumpy mountain man!Bucky, don't ask me about US geography just go with it, eventual relationship/romance/smut.

✦ Summary: Bucky's solitude is disrupted when you show up at his cabin.

✦ Note: You decided you wanted Bucky's POV so here it is! Next poll will be up tomorrow! Stranded is an interactive story were you the reader gets to vote on what happens in the next chapter. You're also welcome to send in suggestions on what you want to happen in future parts! Everything is tagged with #stranded series. Please take a moment to reblog this fic if you liked it! Comments and asks are always welcome ❤️

Series Masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The knock startles Bucky. He's about to eat dinner and not expecting any company. From the simple kitchen he can see through the window out to the porch, but the fading daylight makes it hard to make out more than a shape.

His first thought is to ignore whoever is out there, but if someone is lost they'll leave quicker if he helps.

Just in case he places his wood-cutting ax beside the door, out of sight from the visitor.

It's what he least expects out there. A woman. You smile brightly at him and introduce yourself. Before Bucky can ask you to leave you’re launching into a speech about your car. 

When you're done he can't do more than stare. He's not out in his cabin because he wants company, quite the opposite.

He thinks about sending you on your way, but then the wind blows freezing air into his face and he's not heartless after all.

Introducing himself with a grunt he invites you in. Grateful, you thank him and step inside.

All the serenity he previously felt is erased with your presence, even if you're doing nothing more than taking off your boots and jacket. To think about what he's going to do next he goes over to the stove and continues with his meal.

“So, eh… do you have a phone that works?” your gentle voice is like a bellow to him. Instantly he's annoyed. At you, at himself, at the world.

“I have a sat phone,” he explains without turning around, continuing to stir his pot. “But nothing is open right now, better wait till morning.”

As the words leave his mouth he understands the implications. You're going to have to stay the night. Fuck his life. Bucky wishes to turn back time and never open the door. How could he be this stupid?

“Oh, okay, so I can stay here?”

Fuck no, Bucky wants to respond. But he's made his bed and now he needs to lie in it.

“I guess. The couch’s a pull-out.”

He pulls the pot from the stove and finds two bowls before placing the steaming pot on the small table.

“You can have some if you want,” he gestures and looks at you properly for the first time since letting you inside. Now that you're out of your thick outerwear his mouth goes dry. Not only are you invading his space, but you're beautiful too.

“It smells delicious,” you smile and Bucky’s treacherous heart jumps. Fuck it all to hell. He quickly averts his eyes and sits down to eat. The sound of the chair opposite him being pulled out makes his pulse quicken. It's been a long time since he had company, and then it's been old friends or people from the community, never anyone this pretty.

Instead of making polite small talk, Bucky stares into his bowl as he eats. At first, you try to ask him questions about the cabin, if he built it himself, and such. He makes it his mission to answer as shortly as possible and you quickly understand he's not interested in talking. But it makes him proud when you tell him it feels cozy.

When the bowls are empty, you stand up.

“I'll wash up,” you say quickly and your tone makes it obvious that you're not taking no for an answer.

Before Bucky can warn you, you turn on the faucet. It's a little tricky and he's been meaning to fix it but never gotten around to doing it. The water sprays you right in the face and on your clothes.

With a yelp you turn it off and stand still for a second, then turn towards Bucky.

“Sorry,” he says and gets up to help you. “It's a little leaky.”

“A little,” you mutter before grabbing a towel and getting down to wipe up the water off the floor.

The sight of you, on your knees, dripping wet has Bucky's mind reeling in uncomfortable directions. With an irritated sigh he reaches down and janks the cloth out of your hand.

“The bathroom is down the hall, there are spare towels in the cupboards so you can dry off and change,” he says.

Slowly you get off the floor, looking crestfallen and apprehensive. Bucky knows it's because of him and he hates it, at the same time, he hates that he hates it. He doesn't know you. You don't mean anything to him. Everything you've done so far has only made him realize why he needs this time away from people.

“I didn't bring a change of clothes with me, everything is in my car,” you look down and wrap your arms around yourself, obviously uncomfortable.

It dawns on Bucky what he's going to have to do and he looks up towards the ceiling and says, “Un-fucking-beliveable.” Then he stomps off towards his bedroom to find you something to wear.

He rummages through the meager choices of clothing he has at the cabin, managing to find a t-shirt and a hoodie. It's just luck you don't need pants too. He deposits them on top of the toilet seat in the bathroom before going back to the kitchen.

While he's been gone you've cleaned up the water anyway and figured out the trick to not get drenched. When you hear him approach you dry off your hands.

“Clothes are in the bathroom, you can hang yours in front of the fire to dry,” he jerks his head, indicating for you to go and he doesn't turn to watch as you scurry away. 

He washes the rest of the dishes, puts them to dry, and then heads across the open room to the wood stove, throwing in a couple more logs before starting to make space for the pull-out.

“I can just sleep on the couch, you don't have to make the bed,” your soft voice startles him. Instead of answering he ignores you.

When it's done and he turns towards you he almost groans out loud. The hoodie is big on you and you look adorable. An image of the two of you curled up together in front of the crackling fireplace enters his mind.

Without another word, he retrieves a pillow, and a thick blanket and throws them on the bed together with the linen, then says “Good night,” and heads down the hall towards the bedroom.

“Thank you, good night,” your sweet voice calls after him and he bangs the door shut for good measure before leaning his back against it, and letting out a deep sigh.

He has half a mind to go back out and apologize but it will probably make everything worse so instead he pushes off and goes into the small on-suite bathroom to brush his teeth and think about his life choices.

He’s never had a visitor in his cabin that he didn’t invite himself, the few friends he has know not to come over uninvited. And over the years and a few relationships, he’s never taken anyone with him to the cabin. And now, you’re in it.

The sheets are cold and he usually leaves the door open to let in the warmth but that's not an option right now. He refuses to think about how warm and cozy it would be under the cover with you. How your soft skin would feel against his rough palms.

Irriterad he shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts before they stray even further.

Tomorrow he'll call the local mechanic to have your car fixed and you can be on your way. Why the thought of never seeing you again bothers him is confusing, since he does not know you at all, but it's for the best.

[picklesplitz]

This is the third time I've had to repost this pls pls workk

Pls leave a like they worked really hard on their drawing 😢😢😢

little creature versions of my favs.... Lesbian quartet ™️. Ig LMAO... They're just comfort versions I can draw on a whim cuz they're simple... I'm not scared to post them on the tags anymore.. they'll all get poorly sewn plushies too eventually grahhh

I got. Three hours to work on this in class instead of my norm two. So I took extra time into just. Having fun with it! And no rushing...

Process under the. Read more!

I LOVE MY PROCESS ITS SO FUN G4AHHH

First of all. Ms paint doodle I made before I even decided I was gonna make something . I ended up using this as a reference for how I'd draw all of them ...

Then I just hop into lineart! My sketch is my line art. It's more fun this way lmao. I don't worry about my art being wonky or perfect

I didn't like how Tisha was looking, decided it was better to have her cuddle like the rest of them, so I changed that

Then I just. I start rendering!! I didnt do too much of that on this piece but the process is still the same. I do this without color first because I just find it easier to understand and work with! I make adjustments as my brain seems fit at this stage as well.

And last I use blending modes to add all that lovely color!! I don't use one layer I use like. FOUR so that I can get a nice variety of shades n such... I don't color pic either I just slap colors I think fit... I usually merge everything at the end and draw on top on a normal layer to add finishing touches!

And that's pretty much it!!!

[kit-williams]

Honestly, re: salamander babysitter that abducted charge and the mother. Would it be better or worse to happen upon the mother's bonded on accident in the whole situation?

Perhaps another Salamander once part of the Hoard, torn between gladdened to meet his bonded, anger at how life had been so cruel, or relief that his brother had taken such good care of the situation!

Or a different legion- helping by happenstance or visiting for some reason or other. Oh a cousin may be able to take care of the parent, but that baby is the one of the Salamander's and far too young to be split from the parent.

Can't split custody off base- the world has been far too cruel and uncaring. The safety and isolation from this "capitalism" that the base gives has proven too valuable, and to return to it would dramatically decrease the quality of life. Barring any sudden socioeconomic uphevals? Not optimal.

Messy messy

The best thing that could happen is that she finds her bonded at the Salamander base and great news now everyone can be happy! The hoard grows larger of bonded living with them! They'll of course share the attention as after all there is a baby in the situation. And the human isnt a fan of the idea of communal living like they have grown up on Nocturn with but thats okay they'll get use to it!

The next tolerable thing is if it was a Salamander successor chapter! Like a Black Dragon or a Dark Kraken or any of the other ones I'm forgetting about. The main base will adopt them and give them a room because until the child is an adult they cant with good conscious separate the child from the mother.

Ignore all the children in the base that are without their parents... they're happier and healthier here

See its so rare that a non salamander might actually get to see the mother. Salamanders can get quite protective... to a detriment but eventually they'll let her back out and then a possibility that she could meet her bonded. As long as its not an intense bonded they might force a break or they'll figure something out... depending on who the bonded is. They have to think of the health of the child first and well the mother being so young also falls under that protective instinct as well. My they rather have the mother bond with the few chaos Salamanders that are around then someone outside of the den.

But she can leave whenever she wants, they say! Just why would you want to leave? When you don't have to worry about food, shelter, and you have tech to be apart of the world... to watch your shows. No one to ask you or force you to do anything because someone has told you... no no all the Salamanders ask is just stay there with them. Just until things get better for you... just always pushing that goalpost further and further keeping them to stay there as long as they can.

Husbandry Tags @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @felinisnoctis @riokunova

@superunkn0wn @bookandyarndragon @saintsylestine

[superhoeva]

Hi hi 👋 hopping the older bf! Logan wave to talk about him cause I’m obsessed with him. Idk what version of older Logan we are necessarily talking about, but I just imagine him being the type of bf that always needs to have his hands on you. He’s already a naturally dominant man, his demeanor speaks for himself, he doesn’t have to prove shit to nobody and he isn’t one to do so much PDA in public.

But when it comes to being with you, he likes to show others you that at the end of the day, you chose him in comparison to the other young fuckers nearby. A hand on your waist, another on your thigh when you’re sitting together. Sometimes if he’s really feeling it, he’ll place a kiss on your neck right on your pulse, smiling when it feels it thrum his touch. Older bf! Logan and casual dominance/manhandling >> love that.

an arm's around your waist. his hand fiddling with the hem of your shirt, exposing just a sliver of the skin of your stomach to the guy trying not to drool over you.

you're obvious to the desires, struggling to stay interested in the conversation with the intense gazes logan is sending you. he'd checked out as early the schmuck rattling off his name to the two of you, much more interested in how that one spot on your neck taste tonight.

the man is stuttering his way through the sentences now, nerves getting the better of him. eventually, he just decides to stop, wondering what's the use when logan drags you back against him by the belt loop of your jeans.

"nice chattin', bub. see you around, yeah?"

logan's words come with a sharp pat the the arm of the guy, who jolts at the force before slinking off to somewhere you don't care about. you don't even have a chance to blink before logan's yanking you toward the exit of the bar, rolling his eyes at the dopey smile on your face.

"you're cute when you're jealous."

"shut up and get in."

your grin stays, as a begrudging humor lilts a little of logan's tone. you can hear the tiny smirk on his face while he drags you to the passenger side of his truck. popping open the door, logan offers you his hand, helping you into the vehicle.

you press a peck into his cheek after he straps your seatbelt for you before heading to the drivers seat. he shuts the door with a sigh, not bothering the ignite the engine before slumping and turning your way with a knowing look on his face.

a short giggle leaves you at the slightly annoyed look in his eye.

"you didn't wanna stay and talk to our new friend?"

"my boot would'a had to have been surgically removed out of his ass if i'd stayed in there any longer."

with that, logan turns the key and revs the pickup to life. a hand plants itself onto your thigh, squeezing in anticipation of all the kneading they'll be doing as soon as the two of you make it back to his place.

older bf!logan tag | send more older bf!logan thoughts!

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[fanged-fanfics]

Haii! Could I maybe request hcs for MK with a Spider demon s/o please? Like, pre-becoming s/o and then as a partner! Hope you're doing good and you have a good day!

💛🍜 Gold Threaded Webs — MK x Spider demon!Reader HCs (GN) 🍜💛

Genre: Fluff || he/they pronouns for MK, they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🍜୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

- At first, he completely flipped. All of your spider features sent gross shivers down their spine, making him reel back in discomfort and loudly exclaim disgust. Which, obviously, didn't exactly put you two at the best impression of one another at first

- MK was also pretty convinced right off the bat that you were working for Spider Queen, making them jump around and wave their staff at you like an anxious bee waiting to sting. You were eventually able to cut through his ramblings to better explain yourself, which at least calmed MK enough to not actively treat you like a threat

- He was still pretty obviously grossed out by your arachnid traits, though. It was a little funny to see him bolt away if you pretended to toss a web in his direction or watch the color leave their face when you gave them a sharp grin. But it was... lonely. Seeing this super happy and helpful hero avoid you so intensely, while funny at times, did also leave a lingering feeling of hurt

- MK picked up on this eventually. He realized how he was making you feel, and he ended up feeling stupid about it, and especially guilty. You'd not attacked him or any of his friends, he had no reason not to trust you. So he swallowed all his pride and reservations, and began making an effort to hang out more

- He was pretty surprised how quickly you two ended up becoming friends. Though he sometimes still got nervous or odd around you, with time he was able to have you tag along with ease. To even his own shock, he ended up minding your demonic features way, way less. You ended up quickly getting well acquainted with him, and soon you were a regular addition to his duo with Mei

- As you got to know one another further, he began to even see you as cool. Your extra traits proved helpful in battle, and as they got more comfortable with you, they started asking more and more questions about what it was like being a spider. You even helped him feel more comfortable in his spider transformation, which they were very thankful for

- When you two eventually started dating, MK had a much warmer approach to you. He complimented the parts of you they previously feared, determined to show you how much they'd changed and how they love everything that makes you who you are

- They love seeing you weave patterns into webs, and sometimes they'll draw a pattern for you to try to replicate. He tries to keep every single one and always feels so bad if the webs fall apart somehow

- Once they realized extra limbs mean extra hugs, he started wanting hugs all the time from you. It felt warm and reassuring, and the way they'd be completely wrapped up in your arms comforted them

- He always offers to travel around with you in his spider transformation to try and "level the playing field". He fully recognizes that he's much smaller than you in that form, but he thinks it's fun to travel on your shoulder

- You're a little surprised with the fact that MK didn't seem to care about you being a demon, and him being way more concerned about spiders. Once MK explained that basically all of his friends are demons, you joked that maybe he should start having more spider friends. He tried his best to hide it but you could see how he mentally feared the idea from the way he was sweating and trying way too hard to casually brush it off

- To try and make up for their earlier attitudes, they get super defensive of you if anyone tries to act weird around you or insult how you look. He makes it very obvious to others that he sees you differently now and doesn't want you being disrespected. He does tend to sort of jump to conclusions sometimes and get a little protective, but he means well

[gravehags]

falling so badly (i'm coming apart)

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: making out, love confessions, reader is a virgin, idiots in love, masturbation, copia being a possessive little sex freak, gay trauma, vague mention of suicidal ideation, paintless copia, vulnerability, donuts

Words: 6,189

Summary: Oh, to be wooed by a Satanic cardinal.

a/n: well this was supposed to be one fic and now it's looking like it's getting split up into multiple because these hoes (me) don't know how to shut the fuck up. takes place immediately after the events of satan baby! made myself sad writing about their respective trauma so y'all better fucking like this lmao and you can expect a couple more installments :) i promise they'll eventually fuck nasty (tender)

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

It takes an absurdly long time for the two of you to finally reach your rooms between Copia routinely pausing to push you against the nearest wall with his fingers buried in your hair, lips slotted against yours and you doing the same to him.

His paints are a mess and you know half of them are now on your face but it matters little to either of you. Your right hand carries the bag full of gifts you received that evening while the left is entwined with Copia’s large, leather clad one and the sight makes you grin with pure delight. Finally, you took the step you’ve been dying to for months and your risk has more than paid off. Now here you are, standing outside your door hand in hand with your beloved giving each other a sideways glance. You set down your bag and turn to face him.

“Would you…would you like to come in?”

Your voice is a little shaky and you know exactly why as you watch the Cardinal gnaw on his lower lip and fidget. This has the potential to be a huge night for you, in more ways than one, and the anxiety in your stomach bubbles. He looks as if he is struggling as he lets out a deep sigh and your heart plummets.

“Dolcezza, I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “I would love nothing more. Truly, you have no…no idea how much I desire…” 

When he reopens his eyes his gaze is hungry and you nearly gasp at the way his eyes slowly drag over the shape of you. “How I…cazzo, bellezza you have no idea how mad you make me.”

“The feeling’s mutual, believe me,” you murmur, tilting your head and watching him curiously. You’re not sure if your ears are playing tricks on you but you swear you hear him groan.

“Eh, y-yes. Well. That being said as much as I would love to…to…stay,” he says the word carefully, deliberately, “first I would like to have the chance to eh…to woo you.”

You almost laugh but suppress it when you see how earnestly he looks at you. Your beloved Cardinal. The man who took care of you when you were drunk, the man you called upon to be by your side as you cried. The man who sat in your office multiple days a week, making stupid jokes and flirting with you. Who haunted your dreams. Who listened to you vent and excitedly explain. You would do anything for him. Anything he wanted, and you suspect he would do the same for you. So you smile.

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve sufficiently wooed me for the past nine months but I’ll never say no to romance. That’s very thoughtful of you, Copia.”

You watch him blush and you know you have a gooey expression on your face.

“Bene. Bene! I just…want to give you everything you deserve. T-to take you out. Spend time…more time with you.”

Everything you deserve. You don’t know if you deserve it but you know what you want. And while it’s clear he’s not going to indulge that particular desire tonight that doesn’t mean you can’t give him a little tease, right? Slowly you lean forward to wrap your arms around him, breathing in the smoky smell of his cologne on his pellegrina. You can hear him inhale deep as his nose trails along your neck and one of his hands tentatively slides along the small of your back. You just hold him for a moment and allow him to relax into your embrace before putting your lips to his ear and murmuring your killing blow.

“I’ve waited this long, I suppose I can stay a virgin a while longer.”

His breath comes so sharp he nearly hiccups as you place a kiss to the tip of his carefully crafted sideburn and pull away. His pupils are blown, mouth hanging open and practically panting. He looks like he wants to say something but all that comes out is a slight whine. 

“Goodnight, Copia,” you murmur, picking your bag up and opening your door. You step through the threshold and turn back to face him.

“Good–” his voice comes out high and pained, “goodnight, cara mia.”

Your eyes flick over him, echoing the way he looked at you earlier, and there is an ache at the juncture of your thighs when you see the not insignificant bulge tenting his cassock. He starts when he realizes what you’ve seen, hands dropping to mask himself but the damage has been done. You shut the door with a quiet snap and you hear a rough “cazzo” being snarled through the wood. Between his kisses and that…you certainly have enough material to take care of yourself tonight. 

And you do just that.

–

He’s practically running to get to the safety of his quarters, praying to Sathanas that no one stumbles upon him in this state. His mind has to stay blank, to steer clear of the bombshell you just casually dropped on him with a kiss and a smile. If he dwells on it too long he’s going to make a mess in his trousers and he does not want to have to explain that to the abbey launderers. 

Again. 

His prayers are answered as he pants in front of his door, having steered clear of anyone who could be wandering the halls. He fumbles with his keys, hands shaking as he manages to open the door and bolt inside. It’s cold in his rooms but all of a sudden he’s too hot, the wool of his cassock restricting as he shucks off his gloves and fumbles for the buttons. He only gets halfway through with them before losing patience and tearing the garment up and over his head and throwing it to the ground. His suspenders are slid off his shoulders with such force one of them comes detached from its button on his waistband and he viciously untucks his shirt. His cock throbs as he growls and undoes the buttons, toeing off his shoes at the same time. 

“Merda,” he hisses, aware of the mess he’s making for himself but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is unzipping his pants and sliding his underwear down before collapsing to his knees. A virgin. She’s a fucking virgin. He knows he won’t last long but he spits into his palm and takes himself in hand all the same, whimpering when his thumb brushes against the swollen head. Your name spills from his lips as he wetly slides his fist up and down, thinking of the way your tongue felt gliding against his when he had you pushed up against the wall. The soft little whimpers you made into his mouth, the way your fingernails scratched at the base of his scalp. Was he the first to ignite such passions in your heart? He groans at the thought, the sound of skin on skin deafening in the dimly lit room.

“W-what a g-gift you’re giving your C-Cardinal,” he grunts, “bellezza mia–ah–my p-perfect girl. So good for me. I will make you–augh–sing.”

His knees protest the position but his hips flex upwards, rutting into his fist. When he cums it’s with a growl, imagining you blushing beneath him with your pretty mouth hanging open in a moan. Each spurt paints his chest, clinging to the abundance of fine brown hairs and dripping down his stomach. His head falls back as he pants in the dark of his sitting room, still gripping his cock. It’s usually at this point the shame begins to wash over him for imagining you so lewdly but…you were all but his now, were you not? His lips curl into a devious smile and he chuckles thinking about how sweetly you kissed him tonight - and let him kiss you. How you tease him so, the little game the two of you have played over the past months. His dolcezza. And no one else’s. He would make sure of that. When his head falls forward again to look down he sucks in a breath at the sight of his cock swelling in his grip. Hard again, and so soon? The power you hold over him is unthinkable and he aches to tell you so. And speaking of ache…his back and knees both throb but all he can think about is the smell of your perfume and the taste of mulled wine on your mouth. His beloved…oh how he longs to worship you, to spread your legs and nestle himself between them to lap at your cunt. The thought drives his fist to move once more, mouth hanging open. He should haul himself up, drag himself to his bedroom and into the shower but all he can think of is you. You come as easily to him as breathing, you always have. He’s panting as he thinks about all the sweet sounds he will eke out of you, of you giving him the honor of having you. And he would not make you regret it - content to ravish you with fingers and tongue and cock until you beg him to stop. As he continues to furiously stroke himself his mind wanders to your first confession when you had told him about your lustful actions. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me. A whine is wrenched from his throat and his vision starts to go blurry with the knowledge that you were talking about him. That his sick little fantasies and indulgences were all correct. And as he cums for a second time that night, his seed dripping over his fingers and onto the unforgiving hardwood floor, he’s filled with the most satisfying sense of victory.

—

When you wake up the next morning and stretch in bed until your joints pop, it takes a moment to remember the events of the previous night. You think of your lovely time spent with the Papas, the beautiful gifts you received and…oh. A shit-eating grin stretches your mouth and you bury your face into your pillow to let out a scream. Merry fucking Christmas to you. You finally, finally made the step and told Copia how you feel and it’s like the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. And not only did you tell him, he reciprocated the feelings. He likes you. With a sigh you stare up at the dark wooden beams and rub your eyes til you see spots.

And then you remember.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” you half-shout into your bedroom, hand flying to your mouth in horror. He told you he wanted to woo you, to be sweet and treat you like you deserve and you…you idiot. Why did you feel the need to divulge one of your deepest secrets to a man you literally just told you cared for? God, that mulled wine did a number on you. What he must think of you…you look to your left and unplug your phone from the charger with every intent of texting him and apologizing for your behavior but before you can your screen lights back up with a notification.

Buongiorno, amore! I hope you slept well! Last night feels like a dream…one I wish to never awaken from.

Your phone vibrates again.

That is, I would like to awaken so that I might see you again.

And again.

It does not make last night any less dreamy, though.

You snort as your gaze goes to the ceiling. Idiot. Your idiot. Clearly you hadn’t been too off-putting, then. Sitting up you scoot backwards and type.

Morning, Copia. Thanks again for being so lovely last night <3

You type out your next thought, then hesitate.

I slept with your necklace on last night to keep you close to me. Is that weird?

Ehh…now that is off-putting. You move your thumb to delete the text and end up hitting the send button instead.

“Shitting fuck!” You fling yourself back down onto the mattress and groan with your eyes scrunched shut. Great. Now not only are you a virgin, you’re a cringe little simp too. Your phone vibrates but it takes another couple of minutes before you get the courage to look at what you’ve wrought. Finally you crack one eye open and glance at your screen.

Dolcezza. My dolcezza…you are too kind to this old man, I don’t deserve you but I adore you.

The candidness of his words makes you melt, curling into the covers to hunch over your phone. I don’t deserve you, what bullshit.

Copia, I am the very least you deserve. And I adore you back. Are you busy today?

The thought of seeing him always brought butterflies to your stomach but now they feel a little more exciting.

Nope! Yesterday was the start of the holiday, remember?

Shit, that’s right. You have the next two weeks off (with pay, Sister Imperator graciously informed you, much to your shock) and this was after you already had some time off to celebrate the holidays with your family. Truly you couldn’t imagine a better gig.

Duh, sorry! If you have a chance today, I’d love to see you. No pressure though!

Were you being too needy? You did just confess your feelings for one another last night. The quickness with which your phone vibrates again makes you jolt.

Amore mio, I am already on my way to your quarters xxx

The goofy, dreamy smile that blooms on your face disappears with alarming speed. Shit! He’s on his way!

You practically fall out of bed after flinging the covers back and immediately shudder at how fucking cold your room is. Quickly, you strip and fumble through your drawers for some fresh clothes. Something casual but not too casual…wait. Hold the fucking bus. You look down at your phone again to check the time.

8:54 AM

Growling, you slam your dresser drawer. If you were meeting Copia at this time pre-events of last night you’d throw on a pair of leggings and a big cropped shirt and call it good. So that’s exactly what you’re going to do right now. He didn’t fall for you perfectly coiffed and styled, he fell for you being a hot mess. You never had to wear a mask in front of him before and you’re not about to start. Not after some of the shit he’s heard come out of your mouth up to and including last night. 

Anyway.

The shirt you pick is soft and well-loved, the gold grucifix he gifted you last night catching the light on your clavicle. Before leaving your room you give yourself a couple of spritzes of perfume and grab your phone. You barely have a minute to yawn in your living room when there’s a soft knock at your door. You count for five giddy seconds before walking over and opening it and you give the man before you a sleepy smile. He’s wearing what you have come to know as his “leisure clothes”, still sporting his paints despite the fact that it’s early and he’s off duty. 

“Buongiorno,” he says softly, hands fidgeting.

��Hey,” you murmur, your smile widening. The two of you stand on the threshold in silence for almost a minute when he lunges at you. The action makes you gasp but any sound from your mouth is muffled when he slots his own over it. You’re content to let him lick into your mouth for a moment, his gloved hands gripping at your waist when you come to a realization and shove him off you.

“Oh gross,” you back away and he looks horrified as if he’s done something terribly wrong, “It’s not you! I forgot to brush my teeth, shit. Sorry, sorry - give me a minute!”

He says something but you don’t hear it as you dash back into your room and take care of business, snorting at the way you’re once again smeared with his lip paint as you scrub. After you finish you take a moment to clean the black marks off your lips before returning to your living room. He still dutifully stands there, hands behind his back.

“Eh–mmph!”

You don’t give him the opportunity to say whatever he wants to say because in two strides you’ve launched yourself into his arms and latched your lips onto his. Gripping the sides of his red velour jacket you pull him towards your couch until his legs bump up against it and with an inelegant shove you push him down onto the cushions. The way he looks up at you, hair tousled and mismatched eyes filled with adoration, makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst. You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over his freckled cheekbones.

“Copia…Copia I think I lo–”

A sharp - infuriatingly sharp - knock rings out in the room. You growl, your hands dropping from Copia’s face and your heart sinks at the way his shoulders sag. Another knock rings out and you exhale through your nose.

“Sorry,” you murmur to Copia before making your way to the door and opening it. It’s all you can do to not spit out a terse “what?” at the person standing there. The word is halfway out your mouth when Terzo gives you a goofy grin.

“Buongiorno, bella! You slipped away from us last night and oh, how we missed you. I…”

Terzo trails off and you realize that in that short amount of time Copia has sidled up next to you, a frosty expression on his face as he wraps an arm around your waist. You give him a curious look before looking back to Terzo, whose idiotic grin has somehow gotten even wider.

“Well, well, well now this is a surprise, eh? Congratulazioni to you both…”

Copia’s arm tenses around you as Terzo’s attention returns to you.

“So…how can I help you, Terzo?”

“Ah…right. The book you told me about last night…?”

You remember recommending something to him and hum aloud before breaking free of Copia’s grip and walking over to your bookcase. The tension between the Papa and his Cardinal is palpable and you grab the title and hustle back over to the door.

“Here you go. Uh…thanks for welcoming me to your celebration last night. It was lovely.”

He makes an amused noise.

“And productive too, I see. Well we’ll speak again soon, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Be safe and ah, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Ciao bella. Ciao Cardinal.”

You give him a tight smile before shutting the door and turning to your companion.

“Bit possessive for less than twenty-four hours in, no?” you say with a sly smile. Copia turns an impressive shade of red and takes a step back from you.

“I-I…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

You had only meant to tease him but it’s clear you’ve struck a nerve.

“Don’t be,” you say gently, moving towards him to place your hands on his chest, “You know how I like to fuck with you. And honestly…it was hot.”

The journey his face goes on makes you laugh out loud before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek.

“That being said, what was that about?”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a sigh.

“Eh…it’s a long story.”

“Hmm, well last I checked we’ve got the next two weeks off so by all means,” you gesture to the couch, “enlighten me.”

The two of you nestle into the plump cushions, Copia looking apprehensive. You scoot closer to him and sling your leg into his lap, grabbing his hands and holding them in yours. He looks down at your entwined fingers and he smiles softly before letting out a sigh.

“Terzo and I have always had a…well, I don’t think it’s necessarily accurate to call it a rivalry. He’s always found charming people easy whereas I…have always struggled. It started when I was in my late teens at the abbey in Roma - Terzo was a little older and had already taken his vows. There was this boy. Paolo. He was new at the abbey and I was smitten as soon as I saw him. Blonde hair in ringlets that would catch the light…ah dolcezza. And what a voice he had, always standing out in the choir. I was desperate to spend time around him, would accept any scrap of attention he gave me. This went on for months and months, me trailing behind him like a puppy. One day I worked up the courage to make a move and told myself I would approach him at a party that evening. I put on my nicest outfit, oh you should have seen me, cara. My mustache barely there. I thought I looked so dapper. I walked into the party and spotted his blonde curls over by the couch as he was draped on someone else. My heart…stopped. And when I saw who it was he was kissing…well. I’m sure you can guess, eh?”

“Jesus, Copia,” you breathe, squeezing his hand. “That is…incredibly fucked up.”

He nods. “But the worst part was Terzo knew how I felt about him. He knew and he still did it anyway. I cried myself to sleep every night for a week after that. Terzo had the nerve to approach me and tell me that I was ‘too good for him anyway’. Figlio di puttana…I swung on him. Right there in the cloister for everyone to see. The little bastard rat hitting an Emeritus brother. Secondo eventually pulled me off him but I did my damage. In more ways than one - Paolo had seen the whole thing. Wouldn’t look me in the eye anymore and eventually asked for a transfer to Puglia. I never saw him again.”

He gives you a sad smile.

“Needless to say it wasn’t the first time that would happen. And Terzo would always say ‘you were too good for them, topolino, they don’t deserve you’. Well it would have been fucking nice to learn for myself, huh? When I left the Roma abbey at twenty-one and was sent abroad I was finally able to come into my own. So eh. Now you understand why I acted…the way I acted. Mi dispiace.”

“Don’t apologize,” you say softly, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. “I…I get it. We all have our trauma about relationships. I’ll tell you about mine in a minute but I do have to tell you this now…Terzo knew how I felt about you. Saw it almost immediately. Always encouraged me to approach you or spend time with you even when I felt self conscious about it. I can’t speak to his motivations when you were younger but I think he wanted us to get here. I mean, is it selfish and fucked up of me to want to thank him for getting you here?”

Copia nuzzles into your palm before turning his head and placing a kiss there.

“No, tesoro. I don’t think so. And…” he pauses, thoughtful, “perhaps Terzo knew none of those people were meant for me. Ah, that’s silly.” He shakes off the thought and leans over to kiss you on the forehead before looking at you with a cocked head.

“I..I suppose you want to hear my tale then?”

Your hand falls from his face and he nods.

“Only if you wish to share it.”

A deep gut-wreching sigh comes out of you and your hands fall to your lap.

“So, um. Middle school right? I was twelve. Odd…odd kid. Didn’t really have any friends, just a lot of people I hung around. Anyway, this new girl starts at my school in my grade. Hayley. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen - long blonde hair, tall, big blue eyes. And here’s the thing - she was nice to me. Liked me even! I couldn’t believe my luck and I was infatuated. I didn’t even know I liked girls until that point but she was special. So we became friends - best friends, even - and would constantly spend time at each other’s houses. Her parents had a pool so the summer before 8th grade I was always over at her place. One day we’re alone in the water and…Christ, I don’t know what I was thinking…I lean in and peck her on the lips. She freaks out. Starts calling me the nastiest names. Some words I didn’t even know until I heard them coming from her. We get out of the pool and she tells me I have to go home but wouldn’t let me use their phone to call my mom to come pick me up. So I walked home. In my sopping wet bathing suit and flip flops and no towel I walked almost two miles to my house. Jesus, I could’ve been…ugh. Anyway I finally get home to my parents who were flipping out thinking something had happened to me and I just collapsed in the driveway, crying. Sat there on the hot pavement and sobbed and sobbed and told them everything. So you know how it goes, my mom is fucking furious and calls her mom to scream at her for what she did to me, Hayley’s mom screams back calling me some choice fucking slurs. Distinctly remember hearing ‘fat little dyke’ shouted from the receiver. Meanwhile I’m just in my room petrified because I know she’s going to tell everyone when school starts again. Devastated because my only friend whom I adored now was disgusted with me and wanted nothing to do with me. It’s…” for the first time, your voice breaks, “it’s not fucking right for a little girl to go through that, you know? My parents saw the writing on the wall and immediately sent me to therapy but nothing could have prepared me for the first day of school. Kids ignoring me I could handle but their cruelty? Their mockery? I hid in the bathroom every day just fucking suffering. Whenever I saw Hayley it was like a knife in my gut. Finally it…got to a bad point. Like, a really bad point. I almost…anyway. I finally told my parents what was going on and they transferred me to a new school. But, you know, the damage was done.”

You reach up to wipe your tears with a derisive little laugh. Copia makes soft fretting noises at you and raises your hand to his lips to pepper it with kisses.

“Amore…I have no words. No words to describe how…crudele. Children can be so vicious. And for her parents to say such awful things about anyone let alone a child…” he lets out a low growl, “I am so sorry. My bellissima dolcezza…”

“Wow this is not how I pictured this morning going,” you say with a harsh bark of laughter, sniffling, “thought we’d have a little makeout session on the couch then go get some breakfast but you know, here we are. Trauma time.”

He chuckles and the sound warms your heart.

“Thank you for listening,” you whisper before leaning forward to nestle yourself in his lap. “Thank you for always listening, my love.”

Your ear is pressed to his chest and you hear the rumble of one of his little noises.

“And you, amore. We make quite a pair, no?”

You snort inelegantly.

“What, two traumatized, autistic, bisexual bitches?”

Copia lets out a strangled noise and his chest shakes as he dissolves into laughter with his eyes closed. You lean up and peck a kiss onto his jaw.

“So…breakfast?”

“Excellent idea,” Copia says, groaning as you shift off of him and into a standing position. You take his hands and haul him off the couch, still holding on even after he’s up.

“Promise me you’ll tell me about these someday?” you say, gesturing to his gloves. He shifts to his other foot and gnaws on his lower lip.

“Eh…yes. Another long story for another time.”

You sense his discomfort and you have no desire to press the issue. Instead you press your hand to the small of his back and steer him towards the door.

“Trying to get rid of me, tesoro?”

“Hardly,” you say, opening the door and urging him out, “I wanna get down to the dining hall while there’s still donuts.”

—

The rest of the morning is deliciously lazy, with the two of you lingering over your meal long past anyone else. You’ve gotten more than one curious look from a passing sibling, whose eyes flick from your clasped hands to the way you gaze at him, resting your face on your propped up hand. You continue to pick at your scrambled eggs long after they’ve gone cold, content to listen to him ramble (the current topic is medieval Satanic mystics.) He’s filled with such a wealth of knowledge it honestly leaves you in awe, as well as makes you a little giddy to know you have access to him and his beautiful, silly brain whenever you like. Yours. He’s yours. Your eyes trace the hollows of his eyes, masked by black paint, down the length of his long nose, across the spattering of freckles on his cheeks and down to his lips. His plump, soft lips and the way they felt molded to yours. The way he had you pressed against the stone wall of that empty corridor, groaning into your mouth and fisting your hair, his thigh slotted between your legs to press right up against your–

“Cara? Did you hear what I said?”

“Mmm…h-huh what? Sorry?”

The last word comes out of your mouth a little loud and very panicked and Copia cocks his head at you, looking alarmed. You clear your throat and smile sheepishly at him, hoping to God and Satan he didn’t notice you looking at him like that.

“I asked what you would like to do for the rest of the day?”

“I–oh! Uh…what time is it?”

He looks down at his watch.

“Almost 11.”

You rub your eyes. While you might have slept well last night, all of a sudden you’re bone tired. Rehashing horrible life events will do that, you suppose.

“How do you feel about going back to bed?”

Now it’s Copia’s turn to look panicked.

“What bed? Your bed?”

“Yeah, we can nap for a few hours then…I don’t know. Watch TV. Take a walk. Whatever.”

“A nap, right,” he laughs, eyes darting, “ah…I don’t know if that’s a good idea, dolcezza.”

A sinister little grin unfurls on your lips.

“Oh yeah? Don’t trust me? Think I’m going to take advantage of you?”

His face flushes so fast you’re honestly impressed.

“N-not quite eh…cazzo. Diavoletta mia, you are making this very difficult.”

“Oh that’s a new one,” you murmur, running a fingernail over his knuckles. “Diavoletta mia, I like that.”

He gives you a pained look, one that tells you how desperately he’s holding back right now and it makes you ache. All he needs to do is say the word and you’d let him have you. He’s held your mind and soul in the palm of his hand for months now, to give him your body would be your honor. And pleasure. But instead you smile gently at him, knowing how badly he wants to treat you right. You love him for it but goddamn your vibrator is going to be exhausted in the meantime.

“You know I’m just giving you a hard time, right?” You wince at your choice of word and judging from the way his eye twitches, so does he so you redirect. “C’mon, let’s grab a couple more donuts for later then go get some rest, huh?”

The trip back to your quarters is uneventful, both hands occupied with clutching your prized donuts wrapped in napkins, which you deposit on the counter of your kitchenette. Copia hasn’t said a peep since you left the dining hall and it’s got you anxious, worried that your suggestive behavior earlier was off-putting. 

“Hey,” you murmur, raising your hand to lightly grasp at his bicep and run your thumb over the muscle lovingly, “what’s on your mind?”

“Eh, n-nothing, nothing. I’m fine, dolcezza.”

He’s not, and you know he’s not, but you don’t interrogate him further. Instead you take him by the hand and drag him to the doorway of your bedroom.

“I think some well-deserved rest will do us both good, my love.” His mustache twitches in a smile at the endearment which makes you feel relieved.

“Do you want to…um…” you gesture at his eye paint and he looks like a startled deer once again.

“I–yes. Yes, of course. My paints.”

Disengaging from him you walk to your linen closet and procure a washcloth which he takes and shuffles into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You sigh and rub your eyes before throwing your mussed covers back and climbing into bed. Your phone gets plugged in before you settle on your side with your back facing the bathroom. Minutes go by - you’re not sure how many - and you open your mouth to holler your concern at him but ultimately stop yourself. The door opens quietly almost a minute later but you don’t turn to look at him, instead waiting for him to round the other side of the bed. When he does, you muffle a gasp at his wonderfully bare face. He nudges his shoes off and removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in a short-sleeved black t-shirt and his gloves. You’re overwhelmed - he might as well be stark naked before you for all the pale, freckled flesh you see - holding your breath as he silently peels the covers back and climbs into bed next to you. He settles on his back, staring at the beams on the ceiling and clenching his jaw. You scoot your body nearer to him, and place your fingers on his chin to tilt his face in your direction. He obligingly shifts onto his side, eyes darting everywhere but your gaze.

“Copia,” you whisper, taking in his deep-set eyes, the dark circles normally masked by black paint, and the long brown eyelashes, “you’re beautiful.”

He sucks in a breath and blinks at you, lips parted and pink from where he scrubbed the lipstick off.

“Amore…you…” he sighs heavily, “why do you care for this old man?”

You want to make a joke about hierophilia but can tell from his face this is not the time. So you settle for raw honesty.

“Copia…how could I not? After all the ways you’ve shown you care for me, how could I feel any other way about you? I—“

You can feel a lump forming in your throat so you distract yourself by raising your hand and tracing his crows feet and lines in his forehead.

“Copia, I don’t know of a better way to say this because I’ve never said it before but…I love you. I love everything about you - your mind, your wrinkles, your mustache. The grey in your hair and the way your ass looks in your cassocks,” he chokes out a laugh and leans into your touch, “Your kindness. Your infinite patience with me. The way you’re looking at me right now. I know we just…I don’t know became an item last night but…Copia you have to know I’ve loved you all along.”

Your tears are flowing freely at this point, sliding down your cheeks to soak your pillow and he brings a hand to the back of your head to draw you further towards him. Gently he kisses the salty trails on your cheeks, lips reverently brushing over your features. He addresses you by your name - not an endearment - and presses his forehead to yours.

“Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo,” he murmurs hoarsely, “you are my everything. Tu sei la mia anima. My world. Thank you.”

You’re not sure how long he cradles your face - long after your tears have dried - and when he finally pulls away you feel both incredibly full and incredibly empty. He rolls onto his back and gently pulls you against him, your chin tucked into his shoulder and hand on his chest.

“Today was a lot,” you murmur, tracing designs into his pectoral.

“Bellezza mia,” he says and you can hear his smile, “the day is not over yet. It’s not even noon.”

You groan and smack him playfully, feeling him shake with laughter beneath you.

“Stop laughing at me and go to sleep, Cardinal Copia.”

He sighs, leather-clad fingers running through your hair.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, amore. Your company is far too enjoyable to be unconscious in it.”

It takes all of five more minutes before he starts snoring and you grin, your face pressed against him.

Oh, to be wooed by a Satanic cardinal.

[lunarmothim]

a thing of beauty - kyle garrick x reader

It had always amazed you, how easily you could bring Kyle to his knees, this beautiful man who could've been a model but chose to take down terrorists for a living. A man who killed people at work then came home and looked at you with warm eyes through long, dark lashes you'd always been jealous of like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. He's absolutely breathtaking. Living proof that God has favorites, every inch of him a work of art.

word count: 1.7k tags/warnings: i tried to do some plot what plot? but here we are with some fluffy head instead :D established relationship, oral (m receiving), afab/fem presenting reader (brief mentions of periods)

When you pictured your future as a kid- the kind of life you'd lead, the kind of person you'd marry, grow old with, you never once imagined Kyle.

If anything, Kyle was the antagonist in your otherwise picture-perfect story, the annoying boy next door who ran after you with worms, laughing while you screamed, who shoved handfuls of snow down the back of your coat during snowball fights, who liked to tease you by tugging your hair when he sat behind you in class.

He's just doing it because he likes you, your mum had cooed when you complained to her about him, even well after you'd passed the age where that logic would be something believable. At the time you'd huffed at her in irritation, telling her she didn't know him like you did, that he was mean and would she please just talk to his mum and make him stop?

He did, eventually, when you grew older and chasing you with worms turned into chasing you down the hall, giving you his jacket to tie around your waist when you unexpectedly got your period during history class. When hands shoving snow down your clothes turned into hands awkwardly holding your hips while he kissed you in a closet at Maggie Luwin's fifteenth birthday party, your friends jeering at you through the door until your seven minutes were up. When tugging your hair became pulling your hair, one hand fisted in the strands and the other over your mouth while you both tried not to wake his roommate in a tiny uni dorm room.

No, those were not moments you had ever imagined Kyle being involved in.

And you certainly had never imagined him grinning up at you from one knee in the middle of a Tesco, telling you that you were the only person he could imagine doing something as mundane and domestic as debating over cereal choices with for the rest of his life, so would you please do him the honor of marrying him? No plan, no ring, just that pretty smile of his you'd never thought you'd fall in love with and a promise to do it right, do it better, if you'd only say yes-

Which had brought you here, perched on his lap with the ring he'd picked up on his way home from the airport four months after the proposal on your finger while he presses soft, lazy kisses to your throat, the dinner you'd started for your engagement party forgotten in the slow cooker.

("I'll get you somethin' bigger," he'd promised, down on one knee again with a tired smile.

"Don't you fuckin' dare," you'd replied, dragging him up off the ground to kiss you.)

"So pretty," he sighs against your skin, large palms warm against your back through your shirt. "And all mine. How'd I get so lucky, huh?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," you can't help but tease him, soft and breathy, and he chuckles low in his throat, pulling you tighter against him. He's hard beneath you, sliding those warm hands down the velvety fabric of your skirt while his nose nudges gently against your jaw, a silent request to give him better access to your neck. The tilt of your head to the left comes without argument, but with a soft warning. "Kyle, we don't have time for this."

"We can make time," he murmurs, grazing his teeth over your pulse with just enough pressure to make you melt into him, his voice a low rumble against your throat. "They'll understand. Should've celebrated together first, anyway."

"You have the rest of your life to celebrate with me," you try again, but there's no real fight to your words, no move made to stop him from slipping his hands beneath your skirt and up your thighs.

You both know that you'd caved the second he tugged you into his lap.

"Even that's not enough time," he laments, dragging his mouth up in search of yours. You taste the icy edge of a menthol on his breath under the sweet mint gum he'd tried to hide it with, probably bummed from the neighbour despite his promises to quit, but you don't care to chastise him for it right now- not when his fingers, long and impossibly delicate for his line of work, are creeping up your outer thighs to catch on the thin lace of your panties, giving them a playful tug. "C'mon, love, just a little taste."

"'Just a little taste,'" you mock him, retaliating with a nip at his lower lip that has him laughing, tugging the plush flesh between your teeth as you draw back. "Last time you said that you missed drills and John came by for a wellness check."

"Hey now, no need to bring him into this," Kyle responds, tugging at your panties again. "I can be quick-"

"You said that, too. Think we have different definitions of the word, babe."

"Oh yeah? What's yours, then?"

It's the wrong thing to say- or maybe the right thing, if his reaction to the way you shift back along his thighs in response is anything to go by, pupils blowing wide when you drag your nails down the hard planes of his abdomen to the edge of his belt. He inhales, slow and controlled, when you tug his blue button up out of its neat tuck, but his exhale when you trace the shape of his belt buckle with one knuckle is shaky. A shudder melts down his spine, the sweet dark honey of his eyes following every steady movement of your hand.

It had always amazed you, how easily you could bring Kyle to his knees, this beautiful man who could've been a model but chose to take down terrorists for a living. A man who killed people at work then came home and looked at you with warm eyes through long, dark lashes you'd always been jealous of like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. He's absolutely breathtaking. Living proof that God has favorites, every inch of him a work of art.

You look at him sometimes and can't understand how someone like him could want someone like you. But he does, and it leaves you breathless.

The button of his jeans slips out with ease, followed by the rasp of his zipper. He lifts his hips to help you work the dark denim down his thighs until you can pull his cock free, trailing your fingers up the length of him. He moans soft and low at the touch, the whisper of your thumb grazing over the head.

Dark eyes, wide black circles ringed with honey, find yours when you slowly raise your thumb to press it into your mouth, the tip salty with his precum.

"Christ, love," Kyle groans, sucking in a harsh breath when you slide down out of his lap, settling on the floor between his knees. "Thought you said we didn't have time?"

"Oh, now you care?" you tease him, looking up at him through your lashes. His hips jerk when your hand circle the base of him, those pretty eyes half-lidded and hazy, the column of his throat stretching taut when his head tips against the back of the couch. Beautiful. You tell him as much, murmuring it against his knee and feeling him pulse beneath your hand.

You whisper it again if only to hear the soft noise he makes in response, something like a purr rumbling in his chest. His fingertips brush over your cheeks, gently caress your jaw, catch under the edge of the bone and press in to guide you forward.

"Fuck," he sighs, hands sliding back to gather your hair at the nape of your neck, out of your face, when you take him into your mouth, salt-slick and heavy against your tongue. His thumbs sweep over your hollowed out cheeks, groaning again when you hum softly in thanks. He already sounds utterly wrecked, raw and undone and you haven't even done anything yet. "Fuck, love. Look so pretty with your mouth on my cock."

God, he even sounds pretty, letting out the most delicious little whimper when you reward his praise by throating him to the base.

The tick of his watch by your ear reminds you of your purpose here, your demonstration of the word quick. Five minutes from start to finish is your record, a skill he'd learned you had in a cramped supply closet on base one day when you'd brought him lunch, your mouth wrapped around him damn near dropping him to the floor.

Bracing one hand against his thigh, you reach up with the other until you feel the stretch of his throat beneath your palm. The tip of his tongue swipes over the pad of your finger when you hook it into his mouth, using the leverage to pull his head down until he meets your eyes.

He's gone, mouth falling open in a deep moan that has you squeezing your thighs together, the anchor of his hand against the back of your head becoming a steady hold as he bucks up into your mouth. Neatly trimmed, wiry curls scratch at your nose as he spills hot and thick down your throat, fingers flexing against your skull in a stuttered clench-and-release until he goes still, breathing hard.

You draw away slowly, hollowing your cheeks as you drag back up his length. You think he might shove you right back down when you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up every last drop of his release, but his hand falls slack to his side instead, squeezing against the couch cushion.

"That wasn't fair," he wheezes around your finger still in his mouth, biting down gently just above the metal of your ring. "Gonna be the death of me."

"Not yet," you tease, squeezing his thigh and using it to push up to your feet, withdrawing your finger as you lean in to kiss him. You can almost feel his smile when you drag your lips up to his ear, nipping at the lobe. "But maybe when our guests leave."

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune line divider by @/gildui

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :)

[spookberry]

Shadow High series 3 my new beloved

I didnt even like most of em until i saw them in person, but the knowledge that they'll probably never be in the show has my brain in a "well its free realestate" kinda mood

Random list of information cuz ive been plotting out friend dynamics and background lore

-i like to pretend Rainbow High/Shadow High are actually Rainbow University/Shadow University cuz im in art college Right Now and i think it makes more sense with the whole dorm room situation. And also major makes more sense than focus IMO

-I changed Pinkie's major from film to just undeclared. I think she eventually does land on Film. She just has a lot of interests! Her dream has always been to one day direct films, and I think she comes to love them even more while developing ideas her with the group as she winds up in a Director/Producer position for most of them. BUT also every time she takes a class in a different program she cant help but fall in love with that way of making art too. So she has a hard time picking for a while and changed her major a couple times before landing on Film.

-Pinkie and Berrie bond a lot over a shared interest in vocal synths (tho Berrie knows more about them than her).

-The two made Pinkie's vtuber model together!

-the fandom wiki says PJ is from germany?? Idk how canon that is tbh but ive decided to embrace it i guess

-Rooney's canon name is Scarlet Rose, but i thought it was kinda lame especially when Rosie Redwood is also in this line sooo I renamed her! Stuck to the color name puns tho. Mar Rooney. Maroon. Haha

-Speaking on her though i love that shes from texas and likes writing scifi mystery type stuff and that being said i just Know deep in my bones that she was a Voltron Legendary Defender fan and Keith was/is 100% her favorite. She has a continued fondness for mothman specifically cuz of this.

-PJ and Rooney actually talk about fandom and shows/movies ALL the time. They dont have a ton of overlapping interests, but where they do? The two literally never shut up.

-Rosie is such a random character, like outside of her design she feels very poorly considered. So I scrapped the cosmetology thing and made her an illustrator instead! I think it works better with her love of making art in nature. I can see her being really into illustrated guide books. I think shes a bit snooty when it comes to art too. It takes being friends with other artists to become more open minded.

-I like the idea that Rosie is mainly friends with Rooney and Berrie ontop of that. The three of them often tag team storylines and how theyd interpret them into different mediums. Rosie will draw up a bunch of concept stuff while Rooney writes up a pitch bible and Berrie will start making shit move and throwing in her own ideas on camera angles and character designs.

-as an animation major Berrie was required to take a sound design class early on, which is where she met Oliver! Hes very laid back, and likes to go with the flow, but functions a little like the "mom" of the group. Often reminding the girls to take breaks, drink water, stop looking at their screens lest they get eye strain etc. He's multi-talented tbh but Music is his one true passion and he likes how the girls are always giving him collaboration opportunities.

-Oliver and Rosie like to talk sports a lot, both having played a bunch when they were younger and throughout high school.

-Lavender Lynn is Oliver's number one "person who needs constant reminders to settle down" she is in a constant buzz of trying to get the best shots and is utterly obsessed with the process of artistic documentation. Everything must be documented.

-the whole school loves her for this actually, she has a whole side gig where other students hire her to help photograph their projects. She saves everything she earns from this for her future dream plans to visit paris. She has it set really, many of the artists who she helps photograph now will remain steadfast clients of hers forever onward.

-PJ and Lynn actually took a print media class together at one point. Which didnt at the time spark an everlasting friendship. But it did give PJ an easier in to ask for Lynn's help documenting a project the group was working on. One of Lynn's first times photographing them work happened to fall on a day where Rosie had planned to trick everyone into going on a nature walk sans devices... Lynn wound up really appreciating this outing and decided to continue hanging around the group even after that project had ended.

[lunamadhatter99]

All for the cameras

chapter 2

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Here we go, part 2! Thank you, thank you, thank you all for the support with the first chapter!! I'm so glad that everyone liked it.

I hope you're going to like this second chapter too🤞 again if you're new and want to be tagged in the next chapter, comment here❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: It's time for the big event. And better keep our eyes open.

Chapter warning: none, except the usual mention of prostitution and usual Hunger Games stuff. Nothing too wild. We still won't see Finnick in this chapter, but I promise it's going to be worth it❤️

Tag list

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@justtrying2getby

@idontevenknow1359

@alexandra-001

@bambikitten

@maggiecc

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@1-800-styles

@sisiking99

"Snow is watching us." Haymitch says, we're almost at the Capitol for the final interview and the big celebration.

"Of course, he is. He needs to watch everything. Especially the inconveniences," I scoff.

"Yeah. And if he wants you to pacify the districts, I promise you, he's not happy." Haymitch continues, "instead of being in love, you two sounds like you're reading from a drilling manual."

"You try reading that stuff that Effie writes us," Peeta mutters.

"Snow doesn't care." I tell him. "That's not how you want to convince him."

"I'm open to suggestions," he says back, tired.

"We could get married," Katniss quietly suggests, not looking up at anyone.

"That's not helping," Haymitch comments.

"I'm serious. If, like you said we're on this train forever, it's gonna happen eventually. Why not now?"

"It does make a statement. I'll give you that." Haymitch then looks at Peeta who agrees, but quickly stands up and leave. Katniss looks at me.

"It's something we can try, you're right... they would want it to happen eventually." I shrug.

"It's settle, then." Haymitch drinks to that and Katniss looks at me with hope.

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

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the party?" I ask Haymitch before I have to leave for Snow's residence. "Lots of free alcohol."

"I don't need free alcohol." He chuckles amused, "I'm a victor. I already got that."

"Don't you want to save a damsel in distress?" I try again.

"Our president seems very well guarded on his own," Haymitch jokes, "he's safe."

I genuinely laugh at that shaking my head.

"See? I need that! Please?" I try to beg just one more time.

"Don't send me that look, Princess." He turns his head away ready to walk away.

"Fine, fine... I tried." I raise my hands up in surrender. "Wish me luck, at least. "

"Maybe they'll leave you alone tonight, too interested in the two lovers," he sadly smiles at me, hoping, rather than believing, his own words to be true.

"Yeah, maybe," I take a deep breath, "well... have a goodnight, Haymitch."

"You too, princess." He winks, "and eyes open."

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

The party is just as exaggerated as ever. Lots of people, lots of food and drinks and lots of lights.

I make my way through the crowd, towards the tables full of food and drinks, hoping to find something to make this evening more tolerable. I take a glass and take a sip, breathing deeply.

Some people come to talk to me, about the victors, thankfully.

"Two victors, exciting, uh?" One of the them says cheerfully.

"Very," I say with my usual forced smile.

"You must be proud, two victors on your turn on 12," a woman with very voluminous hair nudges me, "you were the talk of the town these past few days, you know?"

"Me?" I ask, surprised by that, usually everyone forgets about me during the victory tour.

"Oh yes, well beside the lovebirds." A green haired man chimes in.

"Why?" I start to get anxious, the necklaces feel a lot tighter than before.

"I heard a rumour... someone wants to put a ring on your finger," she whisper-exclaims with a wink.

"W-what?... I don't think... uh..." I stutter.

"C'mon, everyone knows you're Cal Kingslay's favourite." She teases, with a devilish smirk, "and it's rumored that he wants you all to himself."

"Isn't that wonderful?" The man cheers. "We could probably get two well awaited weddings this year!"

"I hope I didn't ruin the surprise." The woman adds, with, what I'm sure is, a fake apologetic smile.

"Of course not. Now would you excuse me, gotta wait for my Victors." I say turning around to walk as far as possible from them, I finish my drink in one go and soon take another glass. Thankfully it's announced the arrival of Katniss and Peeta.

I spot them walking through the crowd following Effie and heading to Flavius and Octavia so I quickly join them.

As they see me arrive they immediately smile, relieved.

"There you are," I say holding my hands out for them to hold, "I've missed you,"

All for the cameras.

"It's only been 30 minutes," Peeta plays along.

"And you can stay that long away from me?" I fake offence, "You wound me,"

Everyone around us laugh so I just decide to stick with them as long as I can.

Helping them play along is much easier than expected, especially with Peeta, Katniss is still a little uncertain, but I get her, it got me years and years to get used to the cameras.

After I unfortunately finish my fourth glass, I need another one, in order to survive this evening.

"Excuse me a second," I whisper at them and head to the other side of the room where I can get another glass of Whiskey.

I turn around to go back to Katniss and Peeta when I'm met with a firm chest.

Unfortunately I already know who this might be.

"Found you" Cal teases.

I look up at him, the blue in his hair is even stronger than I remembered, and a little longer too, he got bigger, more muscles for sure, eyes just as devilish.

"That you did," I try to mask my fear with a chuckle.

"I've missed you, you know, been looking everywhere for you since I got here," he says with a sweet tone, that only makes my skin crawl. He grabs my hand to play with my fingers.

"I've been here the whole time, chatting with the Victors you know," I take my hand back, "I should get back to them, exc-"

"They got you all this time," he stops me from walking away, "it's not the same without you."

"I..." I want to say something, but nothing comes out.

"I mean, it's fun and all with Finnick, but with you..." he lets out a big dreamy sigh, "with you it's so much better"

He says the last part leaning in, close enough to suffocate me.

"Excuse me?"

We both turn and see Peeta standing there.

"Peeta!" I say, both surprised and relieved, "Peeta, uh.. this is Cal Kingslay, his father was once the general himself"

"Nice to meet you, sir," Peeta extends his hand and Cal grabs it and shakes it.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr Mellark," Cal greets him, he's tense though, he doesn't like being interrupted.

"Uh... Peeta, where's Katniss?" I ask to change the subject.

"She's dancing with the new Head Gamemaker," he explains simply, "but I still wanted to dance so I thought to ask you, if you're free."

"Oh, but of course," I say holding out my hand for him.

"But..." Cal starts.

"Oh, c'mon, he's our new victor, we can't say no to him, now can we?"

"Of course not," Cal says with a very evident forced smile.

That being said, me and Peeta go dance with the other people, I even spot Katniss with said New head Gamemaker.

"Thank you," I breathlessly say as we start dancing.

"You're welcome, you looked like you needed saving," he says with his kind smile, "who is he?"

"A fan" I simply say, "a very... uh... insisting one"

"I see," he nods.

"Thanks again, really."

"Don't worry about it." He laugh, "I mean, you helped saving me in that arena, this is nothing."

It's actually a lot more than he thinks.

I smile at him, grateful.

I then feel a slight tap on my shoulder, I turn around seeing Katnis and the Gamemaker.

"Mind changing partners?" He asks politely.

"Sure."

Me and Katniss exchange spots.

"It's an honour," he says once we're dancing.

"That honour would be the same if I knew your name sir," I tease.

"Oh, my bad, I apologise." He chuckles, amused, "I'm Plutarch Heavensbee,"

"Now the honour is mine," I say, "new head Gamemaker... when did they choose you?"

"Oh, I volunteer," he simply explains.

"Oh..." I let out a surprised laugh, "I see Katniss is already dictating fashion."

"Yeah, she's an inspiration, don't you think?" He says it almost as a challenge.

"I do," I answer seriously. "There must be more then... why volunteer?"

"I think it's time for the game to mean something," he shrugs and smiles.

"Mean something?" I wonder, "that's pretentious,"

"A little," he chuckles again, "so I'd keep those eyes open, if I were you."

My eyes snap back at his face, he's smiling, proud of himself.

Why? Does he know something? Does Haymitch know something?

Before I get the chance to ask him anything, the Capitol anthem starts and the crowd cheers.

"I'm sure we'll meet again," he says before following the rest of the people out for President Snow's speech.

I'm a little stunned, it's Effie's call that snaps me out of it. I quickly join her, Katniss and Peeta out.

We all gather in front of the residence, waiting for the President Snow to come out. I turn around looking for Cal, only to make sure he doesn't sneak up on me again. I see him looking around, for me probably, so I quickly turn around getting closer to Katniss.

At last the President comes out on his balcony.

"Tonight, on this, the last day of their tour, I want to welcome our two Victors." He starts with his usual charming persona, two young people who embody our idealsof strength and valor. And I, personally, want to congratulate them on the announcement of their engagement."

Everyone cheers. Peeta and Katniss smile at the crowd around them.

"Your love has inspired us. And I know it will go on inspiring us every day for as long as you may live." He holds up his glass and the fireworks start and I turn around to look at them like everyone.

I sense Katniss holding my hand and turning around. I want to look at Snow too, but the way she starts to squeeze my hand tells me all I need to know...

He doesn't believe them.

It didn't work.

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

I'm sitting in an armchair staring at nothing in particular. My mind can't help but think about whatever we can do to make their story more believable, but nothing, absolutely nothing comes up.

The riots in the districts surely won't make him happy, which means it will be worse for everyone else.

Fuck.

My head snaps back as I hear footsteps coming, I let out a sigh when I notice it's just Katniss.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she apologises.

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off, "can't sleep either?"

She shakes her head, I motion for her to sit with me.

"Do you think we ever had any chance?" She then asks me.

"I guess, the positive side of me really hoped... but the realistic side knew." I sigh, looking down at my own hands, "I'm afraid it was too late from the beginning. And I don't mean from what happen in 11... I mean from the moment you took out the berries, that made the districts feel something, these riots all over the place won't be pacify by a love story. Snow knows that."

"He asked me to convince him," she explains, "to convince him ours is true love."

"He never believed you." I directly say, "not for a second."

"Why ask me that then?"

"Control." I simply answer looking up at her with a serious expression. "Show you he has control."

"How did you end up living like this?" She asks, she seems genuinely interested, but I'm not ready to share that part of my life with her just yet.

I smile at her, a smile that doesn't reach my eye.

"Aw... Katniss, I thought you knew the difference between living" I turn serious again, looking her dead in the eyes," and surviving."

With that I stand up, grab a bottle of what I think is rum, and head to my room.

-----------

I stand by the doors waiting for Peeta, Katniss and Haymitch to get off the train. The thought of going back to normal is dreadful enough, going back alone is even worse, I don't want to think about it.

"Home sweet home," Haymitch declares as he nears.

"Don't be so eager to leave me," I joke, holding my hand out for him to shake, he takes and kiss the back of it.

"You know, it pains me deeply," he teases back and I chuckle.

"Take care of them, will you?" I ask quietly.

"You take care of yourself, will you?" He lets go of my hand and leans down to whisper into my ear, "and eyes open" He smiles one more time before getting of the train.

"You'll have to explain that to me properly one of these days," I tell him as I watch him go.

"Isn't his whole character just... cryptic?" I turn around seeing Peeta and Katniss.

"Or just constantly drunk." Katniss chimes in.

"He's cryptically drunk all the time," I smile, "so... you got everything?"

"Yeah, we're ready to get home." Peeta smile back at me.

"Good... Good." I let out a deep sigh, "it's been a pleasure assisting you two. I guess I'll see you at the next Hunger Games, mentors."

"Thank you for everything, Y/n." Peeta pulls me in for a quick hug before walking away.

"Bye," I wave then turn to Katniss, "you okay?"

"Yeah... I think so." She forces a small smile.

"I wish I could do more," I tell her honestly.

"Thanks,"

"Say hi to your family for me, alright?" I smile again and she nods.

Once Katniss is out of sight a Peacekeeper comes up to me.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Your presence has been requested back in the Capitol. We'll be leaving soon." He tells me.

"May I know who requested it?" I ask, tired. I already imagine who-

"President Snow."

Uh?

"Did he say why?"

The peacekeeper doesn't answer and walks away. I stand here dumbfounded, wondering what he might want from me.

Is it because of Katniss and Peeta?

Is it because of the riots in the districts?

Is it because of the Quartel Quell? Does he wants me to be more participant or?

Then a terrifying thought comes to mind...

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

"You asked for me, sir?" I stand in front of his desk as he write something down.

"It came to my attention a rumour's veen going around regarding you, miss L/n." He starts, still not looking directly at me, "a merry one."

"Sir?" I ask, my throat instantly dry.

"Cal Kingslay apparently wants to marry you," he finally puts down the pen and looks at me with, what might seem, a genuinely happy expression, "That's a wonderful news."

"Is it?" I don't know what he wants from me.

"Oh yes, the people can't help but be thrilled about. the idea. I, myself, think it's great news. After the contributions the Kingslays gave to the games in these last years, it will show, not only to the Capitol, but the districts as well, that you are an active part of this system." He explains, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. Challenge me to say no, to refuse.

I really want to, I want to scream at him and just run away. Being sold to all rich people in the Capitol is not the life I want, but being tied to him... permanently, it's more terrifying.

But I have no choice.

All I can do is swallow my pride and take a deep shaky breath.

"I... how... how will it happen, sir?" I ask.

"You two will get engaged once I announce the Third Quarter Quell and get properly married after the crowing of the Victor. He will ask, you will happily say yes." He explains, satisfied with my compliance, then he goes back at the papers in front of him, "That's all."

I don't need him to tell me twice, I immediately walk out of his office, ready to go home and just let everything out.

"Oh, before you go," Snow's voice freezes me on the spot, "Plutarch Heavensbee asked for your company, you will be escorted to his house immediately." He informs me.

I shakily nod and walk out of his office where two guards make way.

-----------

"Do you want some tea?" Plutarch motion for me to sit at a big wooden table, "perhaps something stronger?"

I nervously nod as I sit.

He walks away, I hear him talking to someone before walking back into the room I'm in with two drinks in hand. He offers one to me and sits by the opposite side of the table.

"I told the guards to come back in an hour, we should have enough time" he smiles and I nod again, still not sure of what to expect.

Suddenly the lights go off and the room falls into deep darkness. I can still make out his face due to the lights coming from outside.

"What...?" I ask.

"You can never feel safer," he tells me.

"What's going on, Mr Heavensbee?" I ask, anxiety growing at every passing second.

"Tell me, miss L/n," he starts, voice a little quieter than before, "what do you know about district 13?"