#(I will gladly offer resources if asked.)

[kaurwreck]

if you have a question, it is wholly okay and arguably important that you at least sometimes look up the answer. if you aren't sure about information you want to share on social media, you can also double check its veracity prior to sharing. if you still aren't sure after searching for more information yourself, then asking strangers on the internet is fine, but confirm any answers you receive prior to internalizing them. (which you can do by using key terms from others' answers in your subsequent search strings.)

this won't stop you from interacting with others on tumblr dot com. instead, it will deepen those interactions, improve your digital literacy, and prevent me from manifesting as your sleep paralysis demon.

[lady-luckk]

the accidental cult...

# pairings: yandere cult harem x reader

# synopsis: you accidentally start a cult after a video of you goes viral. they’re weird and obsessive. they won’t ever leave you alone. now you have to deal with them forever.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession, kidnapping, and possessiveness. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: this is a rewrite of my previous yandere cult harem from my old blog, @screeching-bunny. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

it started with a mistake.

you weren’t sure how it happened. one moment, you were living an unremarkable life; the next, you were being worshipped. the transition was seamless, orchestrated with eerie precision. from the moment you were taken—kidnapped, though the word feels hollow now—there was a process. a routine. the priesthood that surrounded you operated like a machine, every action calculated to please you, every word carefully chosen to reinforce their beliefs.

at first, you resisted. you questioned them, demanded answers. you threatened and bargained. none of it mattered. they never raised a hand to you, never once forced you into anything. they simply provided. food appeared the moment you felt the slightest hunger. luxuries you never asked for were gifted without hesitation. if you so much as glanced at something for too long, it was presented to you like an offering.

and, slowly, you stopped fighting.

it wasn’t that you believed them. you weren’t that far gone. it was just… easier. if playing along meant safety, meant comfort, meant never having to struggle again—then why not? you told yourself it was temporary. that one day, you’d find a way out. but days became weeks, and weeks bled into months. and somewhere along the line, escape became an afterthought.

the wealth never ran out. that part unsettled you the most. you had assumed, naively, that this whole operation would collapse under its own weight. that your lavish lifestyle, the absurd amount of resources being poured into you, would drain them dry. but no. more and more people arrived. donations poured in. followers spoke of salvation, of miracles, of purpose.

you tried to understand why. the more you listened, the more disturbed you became. they weren’t just devoted. they were obsessed. they spoke of you in reverent whispers, their gazes filled with something beyond reason. their fanaticism was terrifying, unshakable.

“did you see them today? just being in their presence feels like a blessing.”

“i donated everything i had. it’s worth it just to know they exist in this world.”

“i would gladly give my life if it meant they smiled at me one more time.”

and that’s when you realized: there was no escape. not because they wouldn’t let you leave, but because they would follow. it didn’t matter where you went, how far you ran—they would find you. they would never let go. you were their god, and they were willing to tear the world apart to keep you.

at some point, you stopped trying to fight it. stopped questioning how it had all gone so far. you played your part, gave the speeches they wanted to hear, let them believe what they wanted to believe. but in the quiet moments, when the weight of it all pressed down on you, you wondered: were you their prisoner, or were they yours?

the room was filled with soft murmurs, the air thick with anticipation as you walked among your followers. they parted respectfully, bowing their heads as you passed. the atmosphere, once stifling, now felt suffocating in a different way—like a pressing weight that only intensified the longer you stayed. but despite the discomfort, you played your role. you always did.

as you moved, a young woman stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for your sleeve. you stopped instinctively, and she fell to her knees, her eyes wide with reverence. there was a sparkle there—a light, so bright it almost hurt to look at.

"please," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. "i have to know... do you see me? do you see what i’ve become because of you?"

you took a breath, still unsure of what to say. you had been asked questions like this a hundred times, each one more fervent than the last, but something about her voice made you pause.

"i see you," you said slowly, as though the words themselves might break something fragile. "what have you become?"

her eyes glistened, tears threatening to fall. "a better person," she answered, her words almost a mantra. "you’ve changed my life, my everything. i used to feel lost, so... alone. but now i have a purpose. i live for you. everything i do is for you."

she leaned forward, her forehead nearly touching the floor as she offered her devotion. "please, let me serve you. let me show you how much i adore you."

your stomach churned at the sincerity in her voice, the unshakable belief that had taken root in her heart. the adoration was too much, yet it was undeniable. she wasn't the first, and she wouldn't be the last.

before you could speak, another voice cut through the air, low but urgent. "i’ve been watching them for months now," a man said, stepping forward, his hands clasped tightly together. "they... they really do change lives, don’t they? they brought me back from the brink. i had nothing. no hope. no reason to keep going. but now? now i have something. someone. them." he glanced at you, his gaze filled with something unsettling. "they saved me. and i’ll never be able to repay them enough."

you nodded, slowly, unsure how to respond. the words didn’t feel real, and yet here they were, in front of you. his voice wavered, but the desperation was evident. the belief that you had saved him, that you had somehow reached into his brokenness and fixed him, left you frozen.

a third figure, older, stepped up, his voice trembling but firm. "i left my family for this," he said, his tone almost apologetic but with an underlying pride. "i couldn’t be a part of that life anymore. they didn’t understand, they couldn’t. but you... you gave me clarity. you gave me direction. everything else faded. and now..." he hesitated, tears welling up in his eyes. "now i live only for you."

the others stood silent, watching. waiting. their faces a mixture of devotion and fear, as if each word spoken could break some invisible bond. but they were all in it together. they all believed. the room felt suffocating with it, the weight of their collective faith pressing down on you.

one of them, a younger man, almost frantic, reached forward and grabbed your hands with shaking fingers. "do you know what you’ve done for us?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but sharp with emotion. "you gave us purpose. you made us feel seen. before you, we were nothing. now—now we are everything. we are your chosen ones."

he looked up at you, eyes wide, as if waiting for some kind of affirmation. but there was nothing you could say. nothing that would change this. they were all too far gone, caught in a web of their own making, and you—unwillingly, unknowingly—were at the center of it.

"please," the woman from earlier said, her voice pleading. "we need you. we will always need you. don’t leave us."

you felt your chest tighten at the intensity of it all. you didn’t want this. none of it. but you knew, deep down, that you could never get away. they wouldn’t let you. not now, not ever.

you didn’t speak immediately. the words seemed too small, too inadequate to say in the face of their belief. so instead, you gave a nod, just the smallest movement. it didn’t matter. they saw what they wanted to see. your mere presence was enough.

"thank you," the older man whispered, his voice breaking. "thank you for saving us."

and in that moment, as the room held its breath, you realized—there was no escape. not because they wouldn’t let you leave, but because they would follow you, wherever you went. they had already made up their minds.

you were their salvation. and they would never let you go.

it had all begun with an accident. a misunderstanding that spiraled beyond your control.

you had been walking home one night, unaware of the eyes that followed. it wasn’t until the news spread—an image of you caught in the glow of a streetlamp, head bowed, hands clasped in exhaustion—that something shifted. someone online called it divine. a joke, at first, a meme shared in obscure corners of the internet. but the joke gained traction. people sought meaning where there was none, shaped a narrative around you that you had no say in. strangers whispered of a prophecy, of a long-awaited return.

then, the disappearances started.

a handful of them at first. people who claimed to have seen you in their dreams, who abandoned their lives in search of you. others took it further. they created spaces of worship, their symbols and prayers growing more elaborate with each passing week. the whispers turned into murmurs, then into a movement. before you knew it, you had become something beyond yourself.

you didn’t know who orchestrated your abduction. you weren’t even sure if it had been planned or if it was simply inevitable. but when you woke up in the temple—if it could even be called that—you knew something had changed forever.

perhaps, in another life, you would have been able to stop it. but this was not that life. this was the one where you had already been chosen.

you changed their lives, though not in the way you would have ever wanted.

they spoke of you as salvation, as the one who had given them purpose where before there was only emptiness. they wrote about you online in posts that blurred the line between devotion and mania. forums filled with your name, thousands upon thousands of messages dissecting your every expression, every word, every breath. they claimed you had healed them, that your very existence had given them something to believe in.

and they reshaped their lives around you.

people quit their jobs, abandoned their families, sold everything they owned. they gathered in clusters across the world, connected through the web of your unwanted divinity. they fought with outsiders, with each other, with themselves. all for you. always for you. every action justified by their unwavering faith.

you tried, once, to dissuade them. you spoke plainly, told them you were just a person, that there was nothing special about you. they wept at your feet, overcome by the "humility of their god." your denial only strengthened their belief.

you were the center of their world, and nothing you did would ever change that.

to them, you had saved them. they spoke of how they had been lost, aimless, drowning in the meaningless cycle of existence. you had given them something to hold onto. a purpose greater than themselves. something to dedicate their lives to.

in their eyes, you had made their lives better. you had freed them from the burden of choice, of uncertainty. they no longer had to question what came next. every day had meaning because you existed. every struggle was worth it if it was for you.

but you knew the truth. they had not been saved. they had been consumed.

the realization was suffocating.

to them, you had made their lives better. you had freed them from the burden of choice, of uncertainty. they no longer had to question what came next. every day had meaning because you existed. every struggle was worth it if it was for you.

some had been lost, drifting without purpose, and now they belonged to something greater. some had suffered, and now they found solace in your presence. they were willing to give everything because, in their eyes, you had already given them more than they had ever dreamed.

they smiled more. they wept with joy instead of sorrow. they spoke of love, devotion, and fulfillment.

to them, you were salvation.

you knew better.

[skyahri]

One Bed |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, and Shikamaru Nara.

Summary: Classic one bed trope.

Warnings: Kissing. Bed sharing. Lead up to smut but no smut.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

It was shortly after the war.

The village was still recuperating from the loss, as was every other village, but there were still missions that needed to be fulfilled.

You were off to do some security work for the Daimyo, who had specifically requested the two of you to watch over his land while they rebuilt.

The only issue was that upon arrival, it wss revealed you'd be sharing a single room.

"You aren't the only ones to have suffered during the battle. Half of my property was destroyed!"

There wasn't much you could do, so you bit the bullet and followed one of the Ladies in Waiting to where you'll be staying.

One room? Whatever. One bed? Absolutely not.

You protested. It was inappropriate, even if you had known Sasuke for well over a decade at this point.

"We are low on resources at the moment, Y/L/N-san, Uchiha-san. It's why we have asked for your assistance in the first place."

You looked at Sasuke, who just gave you the same bored expression he always has.

You thanked the woman and began getting settled in your room. Sasuke offered to sleep on the floor, which you told him not to bother with.

You'd likely be here a few weeks, so it'd be best if you were both comfortable.

Sasuke was nice enough to let you shower first, which you'd gladly taken after two days' worth of travel.

He waited patiently for you to finish so he could prepare for bed as well. It was late, almost midnight, and he was tired.

It was awkward the first night. You'd slept uncomfortably back to back with this weird air around you.

You'd put on your most conservative pair of pajamas despite how warm the room was, and that only made things worse.

The second night wasn't much better.

But by the third night, you both grew tired of the tension. It was difficult to be fully rested when you'd slept terribly, so you formed some kind of unspoken, mutual respect for now.

You'd opted for your normal nighttime attire - a pair of shorts and thin t-shirt. You already felt better.

Sasuke, on the other hand, had been grateful for your prudish clothing. He had never said anything before, not that he had the time to, but he'd always been attracted to you.

Your revealing pajamas were not helping his comfort, so while you slept better that night, he did not.

Nor the next night.

Or the night after that.

By then, you'd become very aware of his antics. On top of being physically aware that he wasn't sleeping, you'd also become annoyed by his poor attitude.

He was already an ass as is, you really didn't need him sleep deprived on top of it.

So that night, as you lay in bed next to him, you roll onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

"What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Really? Could've fooled me."

He tsked at you. Why'd you have to be so annoying?

You pushed yourself up so you'd be sitting on your knees, your hands flat on the bed so you could still lean forward to talk to him.

His eyes darted down to your chest before looking away entirely.

No way. There was absolutely no way.

"Are you... bothered by my clothes?"

"Don't be stupid." He snapped.

You tried to suppress a knowing smirk but failed.

So you leaned forward and kissed him.

Despite his surprise, he immediately responded to your kiss, going so far as to roll you over onto your back so he'd be on top of you.

"Maybe I am a bit bothered."

Kakashi Hatake

This is Kakashi’s first Kage Summit, and he asked you to be his plus one.

You accepted with no hesitation. You were anxious to get out of the village since the war ended and going out with Kakashi was sure to make it all the more interesting.

The summit was boring. That's a good thing compared to the last summit, but it still made you want to gouge your eyes out. They discussed the status of their villages and what sort of issues they'd been running into, blah blah blah.

When it was nearing midnight and everyone was growing tired, they agreed to call it a night and resume in the morning.

Everyone went to their respective quarters, but when you got to the Leaf Village's wing, there was only a single room with a bed.

Apparently, during the rebuild, they'd slipped up and only added a single room instead of the usual two, and no one had noticed (Thanks Sasuke).

It wasn't too big of a deal. You'd known Kakashi since your Genin days and slept in the same room plenty of times.

You were a bit surprised when he actually got into bed with you though.

Despite all those sleepovers, this was the first time you'd actually slept so close together.

You stared at him. Not on purpose, just happened to be doing so while your mind was racing.

"Is this an issue? I can sleep on the floor."

You shook your head.

"You sure? You were giving me quite the look."

"I was just... wondering what you'd look like under the mask."

You lied. You couldn't tell him how you were thinking about sleeping in bed with him and it's implications.

He snorted and did something that completely caught you off guard.

He pulled down his mask.

You blushed. How could you not? All these years, and he chooses now, the most random moment, to finally reveal such a wel kept secret.

And then he does something else that yo weren't expecting.

He leans forward and kisses you. You kiss back. He pulls away after a minute.

"I've been waiting to do that since we were teenagers."

You laugh at him, then pull him in for another kiss.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru, being the lazy man he is, put off booking a room to stay in for so long that there was only a single room left st the inn.

You'd scolded him, and he took it, knowing he should've done it when he'd gotten the mission report.

The room was on the smaller side and contained only a single bed and dresser.

Neither of you were interested in sleeping on the floor for the next week, so you agreed to share the bed.

Something you wouldn't have done if you'd known Shikamaru was such a... uncharacteristically chaotic sleeper.

Seriously, he moved around more at night than he did during the entire day. Maybe it's all the pent up energy.

Within an hour of him knocking out, he was already sprawled out across most of the bed, leaving you two options: sleep on the edge or lay on him.

You tried to sleep in the bit of space he hadn't taken, really, but it seemed he was basically drawn to you.

You caved, allowing whatever was going to happen to happen, too tired to fight it any longer.

When Shikamaru eventually woke up, you were on his chest, one arm thrown over him and peacefully sleeping.

He got flustered and quickly tried to get out from under you, waking you in the process.

He was able to dart away without much suspension. Or at least he thought.

The next night was the same, minus the internal battle you'd had prior.

When Shikamaru woke up to the same dilemma, he decided it was best to fall asleep after you.

That night, he'd stayed awake under the guise of a mission report update for the Hokage.

You'd simply shrugged and gone to bed.

He followed when he was sure you were asleep, making sure each of you were on your respective sides of the bed.

He was surprised when he woke up with him on top you, head on your chest as if it was the most casual thing to happen.

He'd begin to stammer about, but stopped when you'd groaned.

"Settle down, would you?"

"I was just-"

"It's not that big of a deal, Shika, just go to sleep."

He listened to you, despite not understanding what was actually going on.

In the morning, he attempted to talk to you about it, but the conversation didn't quite go as planned.

"Yeah, you're a cuddler. Not much I can do about it, so it's whatever."

From then on, it slowly became more natural for your nights to get more personal, even once you'd gotten home.

[heartswithinreach]

LaDS when your favorite soda is discontinued

a/n: this is inspired by the fact i haven’t been able to find my favorite arizona drink in years >:(

Xavier

Notices before even you do when he goes to pick it up only to find it’s missing from it’s usual spot.

Politely asks an employee what happened and when he’s told it’s being discontinued, he goes off to search every store to get it for you one last time.

Completely forgets about your plans during his side quest until you call him and ask where he is.

Five minutes later, he shows up at your door with other flavors from the same brand with bad news about your favorite and an offer to try these together until you find a new one.

The caffeine crash afterwards is brutal but nothing a nap on your couch won’t fix.

Zayne

“Good. Soda is terrible for you.”

The least sympathetic of the three until he realizes how your mood’s been affected by this sudden change in your routine.

He thinks it’s endearing, if a little silly, to mourn a beverage of all things and will tease you for it in his subtle, underhanded way.

But there’s truly nothing sadder than a depressed mc so he does some research in his spare time for healthy alternatives or similar recipes you can make yourself at home.

Zayne will do all this and then voice his concerns about your sugar intake in the same breath, the hypocrite.

Rafayel

First, he gauges just how upset you are, gives you the reaction you’re looking for, then makes a phone call as soon as you’re not paying attention.

The very next day, you go to do some light grocery shopping and you’re met with the most obnoxious advertising you’ve ever seen in your whole life.

The brand has apparently had a complete change of heart and your favorite is now the star of the show.

But hey, there’s a special 2 for 1 deal so you might as well get one for Rafayel.

Rafayel oh so humbly denies any involvement at first before gladly taking all the credit and congratulating himself on his good deed until you regret ever mentioning it to him.

Sylus

Sylus is curious why you’re so attached to this drink in particular.

Is it only the taste or perhaps memories you associate with it? He wants you to tell him everything before he lifts a finger to help you.

And of course he’ll help you — it would offend him if you refused to let him do something so simple. He has so many resources at his disposal, why shouldn’t he indulge you?

Like Rafayel, your drink is back in production in a matter of hours but the difference is he expects you to show your gratitude when he presents it to you.

Sylus has your favorite delivered regularly to his home in the N109 Zone in preparation for your next visit. He develops a fondness for it as well.

[platonicyanderereverie]

ok how about gn reader x fatui harbingers. BUT the reader is OBBSESED with cooking and is damn good at it to.

Make this some headcanons lets see your skill.

Thank you for your request‼️ (You can definitely tell I have favourites😭)

Platonic yandere fatui with a reader that loves to cook.

(No Tsaritsa or Pierro in this one unfortunately😭)

[Warnings: none? Other than usual possessive/protective behaviour]

Capitano

Capitano would be a bit confused by your ambitious nature in the kitchen. Cooking is not exactly what he would deem the most useful skill from a combative standpoint, but he doesn’t mind overall. Being able to prepare a nutritious meal is a rather valuable resource, after all.

He wouldn't object to tasting what you prepare and would seem rather pleased, standing in his usual quiet, stoic manner if you offered him something you made. Although he believes you shouldn't be getting your hands dirty with such menial tasks- rather than, let's say, learning to fight...seeing your passion for it, he doesn't seem all too bothered. It simply means more for him to protect.

"It's good...you seem to enjoy doing this."

Dottore

Dottore would show a slight interest in what you do, mostly observing how crafty you can get with the minimal resources you can find to make something yourself. If you were to offer him a meal, he would accept, dissecting the flavors carefully on his tongue and, with his inquisitive nature, asking about the process. The measurements you used or if you just eye balled it and so on and so forth.

If he feels like it, Dottore might even test you, observing how creative you can get with the resources you have and perhaps throwing random hurdles your way in the form of difficulties in the kitchen. That being said, if he is pleased by the results and your dish turns out well, you will receive praise. It’s really rather simple.

"It seems, you compensated for the lack of variety in vegetables with the broth itself, interesting..."

Columbina

Columbina rather enjoys watching you bustle around in the kitchen, simply observing with a smile. She's more than willing to taste what you make, even making requests at times. She seems to just enjoy watching you obsess over something she deems rather silly.

Columbina will be less pleased, however, if it comes between your time with her. If you want to run off back to the kitchen, you'll have to wait until she finishes her song- then you can go craft up your little meals. It's a flawless arrangement in her eyes.

"Don't run off just yet...I'm not done. When I am, I'll come with you."

Arlecchino

Arlecchino is rather glad you have something you're passionate about. The children and the household seem to enjoy your cooking as well, so it works out rather well.

She’ll humor your little workings in the kitchen. The children of the hearth often crowd around the table in awe to see what you've made. Any dishes you present to her will be judged with high standards, but seeing how skilled you are, that shouldn’t be a problem.

"It's tender and flavorful, as expected. Well done."

Pulcinella

Pulcinella is delighted by your little passion, finding the way you obsess over it cute. He'll often gift you little knickknacks or tools to use in the kitchen.

Pulcinella gladly eats any meal you present to him, finding pride in how well they turn out. He pats you on the head when he finishes, for him, it's a skill made to be shown off.

"Delightful as always! Hmm, how about I get you a new plate set?"

Sandrone

Sandrone is rather disinterested in your cooking escapades but allows them nonetheless.

She might even offer up a few gadgets for you to try and use in your recipes to speed up the process and make it more practical. You'd merely be wasting more of your time than you already do by declining.

"Why not use this to speed up the process?"

Scaramouche

Scaramouche thinks your little obsession is laughable at best. The concept of human cuisine is not exactly something he thinks about often.

He might not always accept your little meal offers since, chances are, unless the dish is bitter to a certain degree or lacks any sweetness, he won't like it. But he still might humor you, all while teasing and judging sharply. In the off chance he is impressed, you might not even be able to tell.

"Hah... is this what you've been wasting your time on? You truly find enjoyment in slaving away in that darned room?"

La Signora

Signora would have been highly critical of what you made as well, but she would allow it, finding how you worked away amusing.

If you offered her a meal, she would sigh in an exaggerated manner, as if begrudgingly petting an insistent puppy. She decides to humor you.

"It's something, alright. Your skills would be of better use elsewhere, but I suppose it's enjoyable nonetheless."

Pantalone

Pantalone might be the only one actually against your little obsession because, honestly, why would you want to get your hands dirty? He has chefs at your beck and call, and you choose to tire yourself away in the kitchen?

He acknowledges your skill and finds it rather amusing how desperate you are, seeing all the ingredients at the disposal of the chefs. However, he truly doesn't think you should be going around filthying up the clothes he's given you. But alas, he will still eat what you offer him.

"It's good, great even, but really, my dear? The chefs would have been more than happy to make it for you if this is what you've been craving. But I suppose your stubbornness can't be helped."

Childe

Childe is actually happy about how ambitious you are when it comes to cooking. He will often use it as an excuse to drag you into family dinners and boast about your skills.

Inviting you over so your skills can be displayed to his whole family is going to become a rather recurring situation, so be prepared. He's also more than happy to gift you any kitchen supplies you need, all while not-so-subtly pushing you to help out in the kitchen.

"It turned out amazing comrade! We really need to do this more often. Teucer is still raving about the food you made!"

[burningcheese-merchant]

"Valentine's Day" - BurningCheese Short #10

Remember this? This is the sequel lol. I actually wrote it months ago; I waited until Valentine's Day to post it so it could be "on time" since the other one technically wasn't.

More BurningCheese/GoldenSpice content yaaaayyyyyyyy there's been a dry spell on Tumblr lately and it's made me so fucking sad lol. I gotta pick up the slack or else I'll be dishonoring my blog name. Happy Valentine's Day, you fucking nerds

(Also, there's a pinch of HollyCacao in here for extra seasoning :P)

"I take it you've all had a joyful holiday, my friends?" Pure Vanilla asked, "if all of your smiling faces are not deceiving me, of course?"

"And how!" Hollyberry answered cheerfully. "Valentine's Day is one of my kingdom's most beloved holidays! Love and companionship ought to be celebrated every day, of course, but this day brings out our greatest passion."

"Your people celebrate everything every day, is that not so?" Dark Cacao said with a slight roll of his eyes. "One struggles to find a moment's peace in that place. I still do not know how you don't run out of food and other resources, with how often you all throw your parties and balls."

"Oh, don't be so stiff, Cacao!" Her words came out in the form of lighthearted laughter, punctuated by a playful punch to Dark Cacao's shoulder. "Even you had fun at the festival the day before. You wouldn't have come if you thought you wouldn't have, no?"

"...No. I suppose not." He shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips. "But the brunt of my enjoyment came from being beside you, yourself. And... I am more than happy to come to you if you ask for me. From one end of the earth to the other, if I must."

"I know," Hollyberry murmured, offering him a warm smile in turn. He offered her his hand, tentative yet earnest; she took it gladly, wasting no time lacing their fingers together and squeezing his tight.

Peeking at the pair from behind her berry juice glass, White Lily spoke, "I heard your dragon friend appeared at the festival, as well... How did that go?"

"You mean Pitaya Dragon? He certainly did... and made a mess of the whole kingdom, just like always! Haha!" Hollyberry threw her head back in laughter at the memory. "Less than he would have had Fire Spirit not been around to keep him tame, but even so! That eventful day ended in us all having far less juice to our names than before!"

"And one less chandelier in your dining room, right?" White Lily giggled.

"You heard about that, eh? Let me tell you all the story, then!" Hollyberry leaned forward, the glimmer of merriment in her eyes now shining twice as bright as she cleared her throat and set the proverbial stage. "The festival was meant to conclude with a great feast in the Hollyberry Palace. The doors were open to all, and we had whole tables of food prepared for everyone! The grandest assortment of all was in the royal dining room, and..."

The other Ancients sat still and quiet, bewitched by Hollyberry's exciting tale... all but one, of course.

Save for the occasional chuckle and friendly acknowledgement towards whomever spoke to her, Golden Cheese had remained silent almost the entire meal. If her friends noticed, they had yet to ask about it - and perhaps it was better that way, for there was no guarantee that Golden Cheese would have taken her focus away from the special item nesting in her lap long enough to reply properly. She would have hated to act so rudely. So foolishly.

And yet...

Tracing her fingers idly over the page, she began to smile. Even now, even with the paper sitting a ways away from her face, the sweet scent of jasmine floated up and tickled her nose... and her cheeks grew rosy as she breathed in slow and deep, drinking it in for the umpteenth time, for knowing that he took care to remember all her favorite spices never failed to make her heart flutter.

Her eyes found themselves back at the top, starting their journey from the first word all the way down to the last yet again:

"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your laugh,

Your hands the color of a savage harvest,

Hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

The sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

Hunting for you, for your hot heart,

Like a nutmeg tiger on the cliffs of the Spice Ridge."

Could he see the warm glow in her cheeks, even so far away from her? Could he hear the drumming of her heart against her ribcage, flustered yet captivated, all the way wherever he was right then? Would that whirlwind kicking up in her mind gain enough momentum to break free from the confines of her skull, and soar to him, coiling around his body and stitching itself to his skin so he could never be rid of it?

Foolish as it was, she hoped so. Every year, he cast this same spell on her; the words might always be different, but the underlying sentiment was the same. And it always worked, at first to her chagrin, now to her undeniable joy. He knew it, she knew it, he'd long since sapped her of her strength and will to pretend otherwise - and she wanted him to know it, needed him to. It was the least he deserved, seeing and understanding this delightful burden on her heart. And it was all she could give him in return, until they meet again and she could finally-

"It's from him, isn't it?"

The sudden whisper in Golden Cheese's ear made her jump, her wings ruffling in shock. In the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar head of wavy white hair, framing a face now full of dismay.

"Ah- I'm sorry," White Lily said. "I didn't mean to startle you..."

"I- ahem- i-it's nothing," Golden Cheese stammered. "Nothing whatsoever. I hardly even know what you're apologizing for."

"Is it?" Dark Cacao inquired from across the table. "You've been quiet for some time, then you suddenly leap from your seat. It isn't like you."

...Ah. So they did notice, then.

"Your face is quite red, as well," Pure Vanilla fretted, finally opening his eyes enough to gaze at her from beneath his long lashes. "Are you certain you're alright? You aren't catching a fever, are you?"

"I... Well... No. It's..."

Curse Burning Spice. Curse him, well and truly, and his ability to transform her into both the best version of herself and some strange, backwards caricature, sometimes at the same time. No one could ever make Golden Cheese fear the limelight. No one could ever make her tremble and falter beneath the weight of others' eyes, instead of relishing and demanding more of their attention. No one could ever make her wish the earth would obey her command when she needed it to most, and open up and swallow her and her embarrassment whole.

Except for him. Curse him. Curse him and the sway she lets him have over her. Over her heart and soul...

"Oh... I give up." With the same swiftness and grace of a child bringing out the stolen candy hidden behind their back, she raised the letter high enough for them all to see.

"Oh! Is that another one of Burning Spice's poems?" Why did Hollyberry have to say that so loud? "I remember that he wrote you one last year, too! Did he do it again?"

"...Yeah," Golden Cheese said. "He... does so every year now."

"That's so sweet," Hollyberry said warmly.

"Oddly so," Dark Cacao added. "A gesture of sugar from a man of spice... I never took him for that sort."

"But the world is ever full of sweet surprises, is it not?" Pure Vanilla said. "Even in the most unlikely places." The look he gave each and every one of them, lingering on Golden Cheese the longest, was equal parts genuine and teasing. "We all know so, to some degree, I think."

"Yes..." At that, Golden Cheese couldn't keep the soft giggle from bubbling to her lips. "A sweet surprise in an unlikely place, indeed."

"Forgive us all for putting you on the spot, Golden Cheese," he continued. "Although, now knowing the truth behind the redness in your face, I will say..." The slight upturn of his lips grew in length, brushed with a hint of... mischief? "You're more than welcome to excuse yourself, if it's his company you'd rather seek today than ours."

That shade of red on her face darkened to near purple as laughter spilled over the table from all sides except her own. "Well- I'll have you know that I'm upset with him!"

"Are you, now? Are you certain?" Dark Cacao asked jokingly. Not even he had the strength to resist letting a chuckle or two rumble in his throat at her expense.

"As certain as the sun will rise tomorrow," Golden Cheese huffed. "I'm here making a fool of myself in front of my friends, and it's HIS fault. Therefore, his great punishment shall be staying apart from me until I decide to grace him with my presence again."

"Oh my, such cruelty! And on Valentine's Day!" Hollyberry made a face of disappointment at her. "I thought better of you than this, my old friend! You would break your lover's heart like this after he gifted it to you in such a sweet way?"

"And if I would? Is it not the least he deserves?"

"Even if it is," White Lily said, "I still don't think you'll do it. You'd feel too guilty letting him be lonely."

Golden Cheese crossed her arms and looked away, pouting - a telltale sign of defeat from her, if any of them knew her. "Oh... shut up."

More laughter from the lot of them... some of it coming from Golden Cheese herself, soon enough; she just couldn't help herself any longer.

But she WILL punish Burning Spice for his insolence, real or perceived. Whenever she returns to him, she shall greet him with a well-deserved tongue lashing. Won't she?

Still shaking from laughter, she glanced down at the poem again. Sweet in every sense of the word.

...Oh, who is she kidding. No, she won't.

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

You can pry "Burning Spice is actually intelligent and cultured and well-spoken" from my cold, dead hands. You WON'T pry "Burning Spice shows his way with words by writing Golden Cheese romantic poetry" from me no matter my state of life, death and/or decay. I will rise from my grave and deliver a plague unto your house if you even dare to consider it

Also, the poem is "Sonnet XI" by Pablo Neruda (just with a couple of words switched out to make it sound more Cookie Run-esque lol). Chilean poet this time, as opposed to the Indian poet from last. I found this one and thought it suited Burning Spice perfectly haha

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hcs for a Tav who grew up being starved/neglected. Maybe their parents were poor or they were an orphan on the street. They don’t hoarde too much food but they don’t eat in front of others. And rarely take enough. And they refuse to shower near the others or camp super close to them. They’re almost always on alert and are really bad at self care. They’re always dirty, hair a mess. They kind of smell. And they are also ashamed of the fact no one taught them how to take care of themselves???

For Astarion, Gale, Halsin, and Wyll? ^_^

Thank you!

A/N: Oh Nonnie, I feel this! I was a child of divorce and at one house we were very disciplined and had routines for self-care and homework and everything. But the other house was chaotic and full of resentment and neglect. It’s so odd how something 20+ years ago can still affect you today, but it absolutely can. 💚

For some resources on having to figure things out as an adult, may I recommend the “How Do I Dad?” YouTube Channel and the r/InternetParents subreddit? Those are the two I like the best atm. Also remember, Google is your friend. Whenever I want a real person to answer, I usually type in my question with a plus sign then Reddit (+reddit) which will pull up real user’s threads from Reddit about the subjects you’re Googling. It’s one of the last platforms I think is usable in that way. So that's why I do that. Then again, I’m old and might just miss the old ppl’s Internet. 

Anyway, on to the ask!

…

TW: Mentions of Past Neglect, Disordered Eating, Food Insecurity

...

🧼️ HCs for Neglected!(GN)Tav With Astarion, Halsin, & Wyll 🛁

Astarion: 

Okay, he’s kinda a dick about it at first. He doesn’t mean to be. Well, I mean, yes he meant to make those petty comments, but he wouldn’t have made them if he knew about Tav’s past circumstances. Once Tav lets it slip they’re bad at self-care because no one ever taught them, Astarion immediately feels a sense of kinship. 

He was a magistrate before Cazador captured and turned him, and he considered himself to be a man of some luxury, but after being taken that all changed. He lived in filth, he was fed filth, by the hells, Cazador saw him as filth. He knows what it feels like to be seen as worthless and to have to survive in meager conditions. He wants Tav to understand none of it is their fault. They had no control over their circumstances. He tells Tav to never apologize for the way they had to live in order to survive. 

The first thing he offers to help Tav with is bathing and dressing. When Cazador let him out to lure victims, Astarion perfected disguising his undead scent over the decades. Part of it was using oils and perfumes, and another part was choosing the right attire. He’ll find the right kind of soap and cleansing oils for Tav's skin and hair type, insisting they get only the best the markets of Baldur’s Gate have to offer. If Tav can’t afford it, who cares? He’ll just sneak around the merchant and steal it while Tav distracts them. Or Lazel, if Tav refuses to do something so morally questionable.

He doesn’t really pick up on Tav’s refusal to eat with the others, mainly because Astarion also doesn’t eat with the others. But if Tav requests, Astarion will gladly sit and gossip with Tav as they eat their meal, away from everyone else. 

Astarion might suggest the party visit an inn or a bar one night, and encourage Tav, in his way, to let their guard down and eat around the others. He wants Tav to practice consuming food in the presence of their other friends. Astarion believes it’ll do two things: 1) It’ll prove to Tav, that it’s safe to eat in their company and 2) It’ll reinforce what Astarion’s been saying to them, that there’s nothing wrong with the way they eat. Even if they scarf their food down or eat with their hands or burp extra loud- who cares? Karlach practically inhales three portions in a single bite. Gale won’t shut up while he eats, so he’s always talking with his mouth full. And Shadowheart takes the tiniest bites imaginable, meaning she takes fricken forever to finish a single plate. Everyone has their own style, and Tav’s is nothing to be ashamed of. 

If Tav and Astarion are especially close or if they’re dating, Astarion will even offer to help Tav wash up. Not because he wants to see them naked, or to have sex, but because he really wants to shower them in affection. He’ll gently massage their shoulders as he works the cleansing oils into them. He’ll help them balance, bending backward as he washes their hair, gently using the very tips of his sharp nails to scratch their scalps. It feels heavenly, and it’s a great intimate, non-sexual way for the two of them to grow closer. 

It may be true no one was there to take care of either Astarion or Tav in the years past. But now that they’re together, the two of them can take care of each other. 

Halsin: 

Halsin prefers to live amongst nature as opposed to city dwellings, so he’s more accustomed to roughing it than the others may be. That being said, he’s not unclean, or unkempt- he keeps himself very well groomed (as one must do when they tend to ask to bed anyone and everyone they come into contact with for more than five seconds). He assumes Tav is just more accustomed to infrequent bathing at first. Not everyone is as fortunate as he is. But he begins to suspect something, the more the days go on, and Tav’s appearance and demeanor doesn't change. 

He’ll try casually inviting Tav to come bathe with him. He knows the perfect spot just beyond the Grove, that’s secluded but not too small, that would well accommodate both of their bodies. He suggests this regardless of whether he and Tav are dating or not. If Tav is hesitant, he apologizes for being forward and kindly explains he just wanted to present Tav with the opportunity to take some time for themselves. When Tav breaks down in front of him, explaining why they’re so upset about the idea of grooming and self-care, Halsin is immediately sympathetic.  He listens intently as Tav gets their fears off their chest. 

Once Halsin understands Tav’s situation, he’ll take them into his tent, and show Tav his collection of soaps and brushes, and oils. Halsin explains how he prefers to use each one before gifting them to Tav to keep for themselves. When Tav protests that it’s too much, Halsin puts a hand up to stop them. He can always buy new items. Besides, he’s learned how to make the most of what only Mother Nature has to offer. He can manage without fancy cleansers and bristles for a time. Tav deserves them more. 

Halsin might even offer Tav some clothes if he has any that wouldn’t be too difficult to tuck or take in, as he’s a very big man. With Tav’s permission, he might even ask Shadowheart Lazel or even Astarion if they have something they could spare for the time being, if Tav is too embarrassed or shy to ask for themselves. 

He offers to keep watch and guard Tav as they bathe, promising not to look unless Tav asks them to. If the two are dating, Halsin will assist them, helping Tav scrub down and removing all the dirt, grime, and dead skin before washing them in the water. If the two are only friends, Halsin keeps his promise of not looking at Tav until they are dressed again. He’ll help detangle and braid Tav’s hair, taking care not to pull too hard on any knots. The whole ordeal leaves Tav feeling rather pampered. 

As far as eating goes, Halsin will always offer to share any meal he catches while the party is camping together, which is how Halsin notices Tav’s different eating habits. Halsin swears that as long as he is well and able to hunt and gather food, Tav will never go hungry in his presence. Halsin assures Tav that it’s okay to eat full, rather than stockpile most of their meals for later. It’s much more important to eat for energy now, rather than wait to eat later. It keeps one’s energy levels stable and helps to reduce any unintentional food waste as things tend to spoil. 

Halsin takes it upon himself to become a provider of sorts for Tav, the one Tav never had. He plans to lavish Tav with so much attention and care that those wounds caused by years of abandonment and neglect have no choice but to close. 

Wyll: 

Wyll is a bit awkward about it in the beginning. Not because he intends to be rude, but because he’s unsure of how to approach the subject with Tav without sounding like a snide ass. If it were any other companion, he might have made an offhand comment days ago, but when it comes to their leader, Wyll holds much more admiration and respect. So, Wyll holds his tongue until things become a bit more apparent, and he believes he knows the most sensitive way to navigate them. 

When everyone sits down to eat, Wyll asks Tav if they’d like to join them. He does this every evening, hoping Tav will eventually say yes. If Tav still doesn’t bite, he’ll come to them, and ask if he could sit next to Tav as they eat. Wyll makes a casual conversation between bites, trying to bring Tav out of their shell. If there's still no change, Wyll opens up about being on his own, having been kicked out of his home as a young man. He reveals how for the first few years he was often hungry, tired, and cold- being forced to move around from place to place outside of Baldur’s Gate without the proper supplies to fend for himself or keep himself dry. This prompts Tav to open up a bit about their past- how they also had to survive on their own, and now, as an adult, they don’t know how to do anything other than ‘survive’. 

Wyll is, of course, empathetic. Tav may not have come from a noble background like Wyll did, but that’s no excuse for all Tav had to endure, especially as a child. Wyll tells them he’s sorry Tav had to live through all that, and makes it very clear that it was in no way, Tav’s fault. They were just a kid, they should have been protected. There’s nothing to feel ashamed about. They didn’t fail, others failed them. 

Wyll had to learn how to do many things on his own, and he thinks it would be best for him to share all he’s learned. One night, he sits with Tav at dinner, encouraging Tav to eat, as Wyll tells them how he learned where to stay, how to get work, when to leave, and where to train. 

Together, Wyll and Tav come up with a list of items Tav most likely needs for self-care. All the while Wyll does his best to ensure Tav doesn’t feel judged for lacking such things. Again, Wyll reminds them, it’s not their fault. And there’s never any time to start like the present. If they’re close enough to a market, Wyll will take them there, and help Tav purchase everything they need. However, if they’re somewhere without vendors, say the Underdark or the Shadowlands, Wyll will approach a party member for assistance. 

Out of all of the companions, Wyll asks Astarion if he has any extra cleansing soaps or oils because Wyll knows Astarion’s the most high-maintenance party member amongst them lol. Once Wyll secures those items, he gifts them to Tav, and lets them know he’d be happy to stand guard while they bathe. Wyll plants himself midway between the camp and the river, giving Tav ample space. Wyll would feel that being too close to them, in this manner, at this point, even if he and Tav were in a relationship, would be inappropriate. 

Once Tav is bathed and dressed, Wyll escorts them back to the fire. As Tav’s hair dries, Wyll regales them with much more upbeat stories, tales of his times as the Blade of Frontiers. His battles and triumphs, his rescues and saves- all of that. He wants Tav to know he has their back. Wyll is capable of protecting Tav, and he intends to do it in a way where Tav never has to feel abandoned or forgotten again.

...

💚💚 Don't Forget to Like & Please Reblog!!! 💚💚

[lucky-clover-gazette]

The Ballad of Maysilee Donner

Chapter 2/2 | 5,643 words | Contains Spoilers for SOTR

The President appeared to take great satisfaction in his next words: “Put simply, my dear Ms. Donner… Snow lands on top.” She knew that it would be suicide to mock his cringe-inducing aphorism. It took great amounts of restraint not to end it all that instant. 

Read on ao3 or under the cut:

Maysilee took her seat.

“Well?” President Snow asked, smiling. “Aren’t you going to thank me for saving your life?”

She said nothing. 

“Ah, that’s right. I do recall your opinions on begging. Namely, that you would rather die than do it.” 

So he’d spied on the District 12 tributes’s apartment. Not exactly a surprise, but disturbing all the same. Was this how he’d tried to get into Haymitch’s head? 

“The Gamemakers were eager to kill you with those mutts, you know, after you murdered one of their own,” Snow continued with a knowing smile. 

Maysilee thought back to that moment in the arena, her complete lack of hesitation as she’d sunk the poison dart into the Peacekeeper’s flesh. She did not regret it, not in the way she regretted killing other children from the districts. In fact, given the opportunity, she would gladly do it again. 

She glanced pointedly down at the two dead Peacekeepers beside the table. “Did they know the candy was poisoned?”

President Snow followed her gaze. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. Either way, they knew they had no choice but to accept my offer.” 

Maysilee looked up sharply. “Your offer was death.” 

Snow met her eyes and smiled, spreading those dry lips so far that Maysilee half-expected them to crack. “I think you and I both know there are far worse fates than death, Ms. Donner.” He looked her over appraisingly. “But still… you’re here.” 

She shifted in her chair. She had asked for this. “I wanted Haymitch to win,” she said, and it was at least part of the truth. 

“You could have simply accepted your death in the arena,” Snow countered. “I assume that the people of District 12 have worked very hard to keep your grandmother’s identity a secret for the past forty years. Yet you threw it all away to save your life.” 

Maysilee didn’t know what to make of the President’s expression. It was not one of contempt, nor was it pity—it almost looked something like respect. Which, considering his words, made absolutely no sense. 

“It was her idea,” she told Snow. “For my father and sister, too.” 

For a second she wondered if she was endangering her family, speaking of them at all, but reasoned that Snow must know everything already. The only thing keeping him away in the past had been her grandmother’s well-kept secret, a vital missing connection that had prevented the President from tracking her down. But ever since Maysilee’s last-ditch effort in the games, Snow had undoubtedly exhausted all of his resources in District 12 to learn everything he could. Her grandmother hadn’t spoken of the man’s personality often, but she had mentioned his obsessive tendencies. 

Maysilee obviously hadn’t said anything at the time, but a little part of her had wondered what that would be like—to have someone hopelessly obsessed with her, appreciating her as more than half of a matching set. It had been a comforting notion, once. 

She knew better now. And she needed to be careful—if not for her own sake, then for the sake of her loved ones.

“But my father was never chosen for the Games,” Maysilee said, “and my sister…” 

Has two more years left, she did not tell the President. They both already knew. 

“Yes, well, the odds are that she will make it past eighteen,” President Snow said, neutrally. “I’m surprised that your name was selected at all, given your family’s status in 12. No tesserae for you, am I correct?” 

Maysilee frowned. Something about his comment felt distinctly wrong. She was a snob, sure, but not like that. The entire tesserae system was despicable, and she was no more or less deserving of protection than the kids from the Seam. 

“You know, the tesserae were my invention,” Snow boasted. He spoke as if they were having a perfectly casual conversation, amused by the novelty of pretending someone could match his authority. It was all an act, of course—standard behavior of self-important people like Caesar Flickerman and that hag Drusilla. But unlike the tactless Haymitch, Maysilee had been playing these sorts of social games long before her time in the arena. She could match Snow’s smugness and then some. 

“Oh, really,” she replied, looking down at her nails. Someone had removed the chipped paint during her recovery-slash-imprisonment. 

“Indeed. I had the idea not long after my visit to District 12—one you’ve heard much about, I’m sure.” 

“Not at all,” said Maysilee. “Must not have been important.” 

Snow was far too experienced to lose his composure, but Maysilee knew she’d injured his ego. Not a large injury by any means, more like a paper cut, but still—it felt like a win. 

“And as for my grandmother,” Maysilee continued, picturing the hidden grave in the woods of 12,“you definitely can’t catch her now.”  

Snow exhaled sharply. Maysilee wondered what it had been like for him, to learn that she’d survived and died in one fell swoop. Just as her grandmother had predicted, he still cared after all these years. 

“Don’t feel too bad,” Maysilee told the President. “She did mention some things about you… like how you cheated her out of the games. She was convinced she could rely on you for that, at least.” 

Snow did not respond to her taunt. Instead, he gingerly examined the object that had prompted this conversation in the first place. 

“She aged poorly,” he said, staring down at the photograph in the locket. The free-spirited older woman seemed out of place among his meticulously arranged refreshments. “Nearly unrecognizable.” He then looked up at Maysilee. “In the Capitol, we have ways to ensure that we maintain our youthful appearances.” 

She tilted her head. “Really? Where?” 

Snow chuckled at that, but she could tell the insult had landed. 

“Ms. Donner,” he said, “I think there might be a misunderstanding between us.”

“Is there.” 

“I am not your enemy. Your grandmother understood this, which is why she instructed you to reveal your lineage as a safeguard. And you must have also understood this, or else you would not have used the safeguard in the first place.” 

Maysilee crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re an enemy to this entire country.”

“Perhaps to the districts I am,” Snow admitted, “but somebody needs to keep the masses in line. Without my safeguarding, there would only be chaos. And you fail to see, Ms. Donner, that I am incredibly generous towards those who fall in line.” 

Maysilee glanced again at the dead Peacekeepers. 

Snow waved away the unspoken accusation. “They were district.” 

Maysilee had heard ‘district’ used in such a fashion by a few residents of the Capitol before the games, but it felt distinctly more sinister coming from the dry lips of the President himself. 

“My grandmother was district,” she said, although her grandmother would have declared herself Covey.

Snow wore an expression of distaste at the notion. “Yes, she was. She proved as much on the day of our parting.” 

Maysilee knew only the basics of that day: her grandmother had planned to run away with a young President Snow and escape Panem altogether, but he’d proven himself untrustworthy and she’d fled. His subsequent violent reaction to this had further reinforced her grandmother’s decision to sever their connection. 

Maysilee had wondered, while hearing the story, what exactly her grandmother had ever seen in the man who she’d so quickly and remorselessly abandoned. It was hard to imagine the person sitting across from her being romantically compatible with anyone, never mind a free spirit like Lucy Gray Baird. 

Ultimately, though, Maysilee did not care about the nuances of a three-month relationship that ended forty years ago. Unlike her late grandmother, she saw no reason to muse about the inherent goodness of people, the fact that Snow could have been different, the tragedy of the person he’d become. 

Honestly, Maysilee just wanted Snow dead. 

The simplicity of her desires washed over her like a tidal wave. She wanted Snow dead. She was still alive, somehow, after begging for her life in a way that Snow was determined to frame as undignified. But she would not let him paint that picture of her. She refused to give the Capitol any part of herself worth keeping. Regardless of her grandmother’s wishes, she would not beg Coriolanus Snow for protection. She would die with her head held high, and maybe, just maybe— 

Maybe she could take the President out with her. 

“To be quite honest, Ms. Donner, I have found myself impressed by your activity since the reaping.” 

Maysilee’s head shot up, her desires temporarily forgotten. 

President Snow chuckled. “Don’t look too surprised, my dear. You know your strengths as well as I do. And despite coming from District 12, you settle for no less than the dignity that sophistication brings.”

She shifted uncomfortably at the compliment. Snow noticed.  

“And of course, your use of poison during the Games was inspired,” he added, glancing down at the bag of gumdrops on the table. 

“Were those your creation?” Maysilee asked, although she already knew the answer. 

Snow nodded. “I plan to use them in the near future, and thought a test of effectiveness was in order.” 

Maysilee wondered if she was the eventual target of his creation. As if reading her mind, Snow shook his head. 

“Not to worry, they’re bound for District 12.” 

Maysilee’s blood turned cold. 

“You see, your friend Haymitch has forced my hand,” the President said indifferently. “He is a fool and will suffer the consequences.” 

“How?” Maysilee asked, scowling. “He won the games on TV. Everyone saw it. You can’t just dispose of him and get away with it.” 

Not how you could dispose of me, she did not say. Dispose of me, or worse. 

“Astute as ever, Ms. Donner,” said Snow. “No, Haymitch will live the life of a victor whether he wishes it or not. I simply plan to make that life incredibly unpleasant to endure.” 

Maysilee couldn’t help but feel relieved at that. But then she realized what he meant, when he’d said the gumdrops were bound for 12. 

“They’re innocent,” Maysilee told the President. “His loved ones, they’ve done nothing wrong!” 

“Acts of sedition must be supressed by any means necessary,” Snow instructed, as if he was a teacher and she a student. “There is no greater harm than that which chaos poses.” 

“Really?” challenged Maysilee, “Because it sounds like you’ve made it your life’s goal to be a greater harm than anyone or anything else.” 

Snow seemed genuinely taken aback by the accusation. Not exactly enraged, or even hurt, but affected all the same. 

“A scathing observation,” he eventually said. “Your perceptiveness is a quality that will serve you well.” 

His statement played back in her head: A quality that will serve her well. 

“Your refusal to accept mistreatment is also commendable,” Snow continued. “It demonstrates a principle very close to my heart: that despite the squalor they might find themselves in, worthy people will always demand the dignity they deserve. And as such, they deserve the dignity they demand.” 

The President appeared to take great satisfaction in his next words: “Put simply, my dear Ms. Donner… Snow lands on top.”

She knew that it would be suicide to mock his cringe-inducing aphorism. It took great amounts of restraint not to end it all that instant. 

“You may not be a Snow by blood,” the President told Maysilee, “but you have the unmistakable makings of a fine Capitolite. I once felt the same way about your grandmother, before she revealed her true colors. But I see your true colors, Ms. Donner, because they are so very similar to my own. And I must admit that you are even better suited for this life than she ever could have been.”  

“I am nothing like you,” Maysilee lied. 

“Fundamentally, we are all the same,” Snow said, almost wistfully. “I learned this when I was not much older than you are now. Humans are evil by nature, and unchecked they will always resort to depravity. A functional society is maintained through the use of a social contract, which restricts the human tendency towards evil through any means necessary.” 

Maysilee gripped the white silk covering her thigh. “The Hunger Games are depraved. The Capitol is depraved.” 

“As are the districts, and their attempts at rebellion.”

“The districts haven’t tried to rebel in fifty years.” 

Maysilee knew she had conceded as soon as the words left her mouth. Satisfied, Snow made a gesture as if to ask, ‘you see?’ 

“Fundamentally, we are all the same,” he repeated. “The only difference between us and them—between the Capitol and the districts, between yourself and Haymitch Abernathy—is that the worthy refuse to consider themselves victims.” Snow motioned to Maysilee and then to himself. “We, Ms. Donner, are the victors.” 

She scowled. He sighed. “And besides,” Snow continued, “I have made plenty of my own sacrifices to ensure the stability of Panem. A loveless marriage, for one, although that is standard fare for the Capitol’s elite.”

Of course it is, thought Maysilee. And she could see the logic in it, as sad as it was. The single time she’d felt romantic love had nearly destroyed her. She was pretty much over it now—she’d had no other choice, really—but she still had to be careful whenever Burdock Everdeen came around Merchant’s Row to bother Asterid. 

“And there is also the matter of personnel management,” said Snow, seemingly displeased by Maysilee’s wandering mind. His smile was especially sinister as he told her, “You see, with the rumors surrounding my political ascendency, it has taken a certain finesse to convince people that I am only serving them that which I myself would consume.” The President paused for dramatic effect. “Unfortunately for them, I have developed quite a tolerance for poison.”

Maysilee narrowed her eyes. “I can tell.”

“Such is the price of prosperity,” Snow said, waving the insult away. “A price that you have already paid yourself, and that I am inclined to reward.”

Reward? Was he insane? 

“Normally I look down on beggars and cowards,” Snow explained, “but I see your desperate appeal for what it truly was: survival. You advocated for your dignity, Ms. Donner, just as I advocated for mine so many years ago. You have not bowed to those beneath you—you have looked upwards instead.”

So he was projecting. She could have guessed that sooner, but there was no denying it now. President Snow may have been the most powerful person in the country, but he was also an emotionally unintelligent prick steeped in delusion and poorly nursing a breakup that happened forty years ago. Maysilee’s mind raced with the implications of the weakness the President had so shamelessly exposed, only pausing when Snow abruptly changed the subject again. 

“Are you familiar with the Plinth family name, Ms. Donner?” 

“No.” 

It was, apparently, the right answer. “Excellent,” said Snow. “That is how it should be.”

Maysilee wondered what the hell the Plinth family had ever done to deserve such contempt from Snow. Probably something amazing, she guessed. 

The President sighed. “But��just between us—I will admit that my own family once experienced a period of poverty. In the Capitol, no less! But I always knew what I deserved. I made friends in the right places. And soon enough, I found myself inheriting a sizable fortune, restoring the Snow family name and attending the higher education necessary to pursue my goals.”

Maysilee tried to piece together why Snow had chosen to share this information. So he’d come from old money but lost it, was poor in the Capitol but still fancied himself a rich person, and had networked his way into someone else’s fortune, which he now claimed as his own. But had he come by the money fairly, or had he somehow threatened the Plinths into handing it over? Where were the Plinths now? Grim as it was, Maysilee already knew the answer. They were probably as dead as the Peacekeepers on the floor. 

And what exactly did she have to do with any of this? 

“Ms. Donner, I would like to offer you that same chance,” said President Snow, as if it was the most logical conclusion in the world. “I have a cousin who has grown to resist my company,”—Maysilee did not blame her—“and she has become lonely and unpopular in my absence. She would gladly take you in, allowing you to attend the finest of schooling and possess the finest of things.”

Snow seemed proud of his offer. He also seemed slightly wounded by the fact that his cousin, whoever she was, had apparently rejected him. Maysilee wondered if he had considered poisoning her too, or if the people related to him were strictly off-limits. Perhaps giving his cousin Maysilee was a way for Snow to earn her favor again, or at least restore her status in the eyes of the Capitol. It would be embarrassing for him, Maysilee guessed, to have an unmarried childless hag as a blood relative in the public eye. In that sense, at least, the Capitol and the districts were roughly the same. 

“How would you even explain that?” Maysilee heard herself ask. “A random teenager, suddenly living among the Capitol’s finest?”

Snow smiled. “You need only claim that you were a child of district rebels, mercifully collected and rehabilitated by the ever-generous Capitol.”

Maysilee recoiled at the idea. And then she thought of Lou Lou.

“I know what you do to children of district rebels,” she said, her words dripping with disdain. 

Snow sighed. “Yes, that was nasty business, wasn’t it? We have my late mentor and former Head Gamemaker, Dr. Volumnia Gaul, to thank for the practice. Like myself, she believed it was a shame to let human lives go to waste.”

The callous irony of the sentiment nearly took Maysilee’s breath away. 

“What happened to her?” she managed to ask, although of course she already knew. 

Snow scowled. “She choked on her milk and crackers.” And then it was all pleasant smiles again. 

Maysilee didn’t really know where to go from here. “Wouldn’t I be recognized?” she asked, glancing down at the spread of refreshments on the table. She’d assumed they were all poisoned as part of this little mind game, but considering the apparent earnestness of Snow’s offer… 

“Perhaps you strike a slight resemblance to that district girl from the games,” the President shrugged. “But you’re not district, are you, Ms. Donner?”

Yes, she was. Of course she was. Maysilee Donner was born in District 12 to a mother and father from District 12. She was granddaughter to a member of the Covey, but that was not a designation that held any weight to the greater social consciousness of Panem. To her knowledge, Maysilee had absolutely no Capitol blood, and had never personally met a Capitol resident until she’d been reaped for the Hunger Games. 

But she was also not stupid. She understood what President Snow was trying to suggest—that despite all of that, she belonged in the Capitol, not the districts. She was discerning and prideful, with a love for material goods and an aversion to the chaos of nature. She spoke eloquently, was impressively well-educated for a District 12 resident, and excelled in elaborate social games. She preferred poison to outright violence. In the Games, she had insisted upon refined eating practices despite the hunger consuming her. And ultimately, given the chance to get herself out of the arena, she’d cheated her way to survival. 

And she was a snob, wasn’t she? The meanest girl in town. A deserved title, because Maysilee had judged pretty much everyone in District 12. She’d judged them for their utilitarian means of survival, the implicit submission radiating from their appearances as they accepted the Capitol’s scraps and fashioned them into attire. She’d resented their reflexive disdain for the finer things enjoyed by the Capitol, things they in the districts could not have, and their disinterest in reclaiming those things as their own. She’d felt envious of nearly every District 12 resident—even those living in the Seam, who may have been poor but were still legally entitled to marry people they actually loved. Maysilee had judged them all for having the things she could not, and not wanting the things she herself had. And perhaps more than anything else, Maysilee had judged herself for judging everyone else so harshly, when she knew damn well that she would never escape that candy shop, would never reclaim a single thing from the Capitol, and would almost certainly end up marrying a man and having his babies just like every other woman in 12. 

That last part, at least, would not be changed by Snow’s offer. Surely if the Capitol cared enough to make the rule for the districts, they also followed it themselves. It was almost a relief to recognize this, that even if she accepted the offer she’d ultimately be unhappy—but still, Maysilee couldn’t bring herself to leave it alone. 

“I still wouldn’t be free,” she heard herself say. “In the Capitol, I mean.” 

Snow put his chin in his hand. “And why would that be?” 

She looked him dead in the eyes. “Because unlike you, I’m not willing to enter a sham marriage to maintain social status. And any marriage I could legally have in Panem would be a sham.” 

It did not take Snow long to determine her meaning. In response, he just laughed. “Ms. Donner,” Snow said, “I’ll have you know that we in the Capitol are entirely supportive of same-sex relationships. There is complete equality here, both in terms of cultural reputation and human rights. I am, quite frankly, insulted that you would assume anything otherwise.” 

Maysilee scowled. “Tell that to your Peacekeepers in the districts, then. People lose their jobs, even go to jail, if they’re discovered with a partner of the same sex.” 

Snow nodded. “Of course they do. People in the districts are no more complex than animals, and that is all the government requires them to be. They live, they work, they breed, they die. We in the Capitol are far more civilized than District breeding stock, and therefore we celebrate the many variations that human existence has to offer.” 

For the first time in this entire conversation, Maysilee genuinely considered her prospective place in Capitol society. She imagined herself accepting Snow’s offer—moving in with his wealthy cousin, freely pursuing her interests, being shown respect without needing to fight for it. She thought of Asterid, all of those foolish daydreams she’d tried so hard to forget. There were people like her in the Capitol who had never been told to deny who they were. That alone was an incredible temptation. 

Of course, Maysilee would not be accepting President Snow’s offer. Even if Snow genuinely believed that he was offering her a better life, Maysilee knew that the deal was entirely conditional on her novelty to him. Sitting across from her grandmother’s former flame, she understood exactly why the free-spirited young woman had left him in the dust. 

In terms of value, Snow clearly regarded Maysilee just as he’d regarded Lucy Gray Baird. The respect for her boldness and pride, the compulsive distancing from the districts, the offer of protection and care. All graciously offered, up until the moment she did something he hadn’t liked. Then she’d betrayed him. Then, she’d been district through and through. 

As undisputed leader of both the Capitol and Panem itself, Snow’s sensibilities were the law. The definitions of ‘district’ and ‘Capitol’ were informed by his beliefs, his legislature, the sycophants and slaves who fell for his relentless propaganda. Within this system, the double standards between the districts and Capitol made perfect sense—in fact, they were the entire point. According to Coriolanus Snow, all people were fundamentally the same; but in order for some to prosper, others had to suffer. Even love itself had been made a commodity in Panem, a Capitol entitlement that the districts had been subsequently denied. And somehow, this was meant to be right. To be just. To be peace. 

President Snow painted the posters. All of them. And it was not lost on Maysilee that he had dressed the granddaughter of Lucy Gray Baird in silk pure as snow. 

“My grandmother believed you could still be good until the day she died,” Maysilee told the old man. “She said, as long as a person’s heart is still beating, there’s still a chance for them to change.”

He looked intrigued. “And do you agree, Maysilee Donner?” 

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t think you want to change.” 

“I am capable of cruelty, I admit,” said Snow in the understatement of the century. “But I am also capable of kindness. Your grandmother understood this, despite everything, and that is why you’re here.” More softly, he added, “She was cruel, too, you know. She took lives in that arena and could very well have taken mine in District 12.”

“I wish she had,” said Maysilee.

President Snow sighed once again, his faux-pleasant act finally waivering. “And so Lucy Gray Baird has left me yet another snake, wrapped in my own gift of silk. Poised to bite.” 

Maysilee didn’t deny it. “But you still want to help me?”

“It should not come as a surprise that I am invested in a snake’s preservation.”

He was speaking to her in a new way now. There were no airs to it. President Snow seemed very, very tired. 

“I have plainly stated my intentions,” he told Maysilee. “You can trust me to honor them.”

“Is that what you told my grandmother?”

“Yes,” Snow said immediately. He paused in a moment of deliberation, frowning. “I regret it often.” 

Maysilee blinked. What did that mean? President Snow did not seem like a person who regretted things—and if he did, it would be counterproductive to his entire philosophy to admit it out loud. To the descendent of his former love, no less. 

She waited for an explanation but received none. Snow seemed to have recovered, eyeing her expectantly. 

“As much as I am enjoying our conversation, Ms. Donner, there are other matters that require my attention. So… what do you think?” 

Maysilee took a very deep breath. 

“I think you should kill yourself.” 

Snow’s eyes widened, as if scandalized by the very notion. But before he could cut in with admonishment, Maysilee went in for more. 

“Although I guess that would be harder for you than most,” she said thoughtfully, “with the way you eat poison like it’s candy. As something of a candy expert myself, I would assume that it still goes down sweet… but you haven’t tasted sweetness in a long time, have you, President Snow?” With a smirk, she glanced down at her grandmother’s picture. “Not in forty years, I’d bet.” 

Snow scowled. Maysilee was just getting started. “Forty years,” she said, “and this is all you have to show for it?” She motioned to the entire bizarre situation: herself in strange clothing, the table setting between them, the dead Peacekeepers on the floor. “First with Haymitch, and now here with me.” She hadn’t gotten much out of Haymitch about his one-on-one meeting with the President, but the things she had heard were pretty damning. “You’re pathetic,” she informed Snow. “I’m not fan of Lenore Dove on a personal level, but I respect her more than I could ever respect someone like you. You’re so convinced you’re both the victim and the victor, depending on whichever status flatters you most. A basic, garden-variety hypocrite. A sad, spiteful fossil who will never love or be loved in a way that matters. Embarrassing.” 

Snow’s eyes narrowed. “That’s enough, Miss Don—” 

“You told me that people are naturally evil,” Maysilee continued. “That it’s necessary to abuse them just to keep them in line. That’s not meanness, that’s not even cruelty. It’s a dark pit of despair, and I think you decided a long time ago that there’s no escape.” She regarded him with every ounce of disdain she had. “Maybe you’re so broken that you like it better this way. Whatever the case, I don’t think there’s an antidote strong enough to neutralize the poison in your veins.” 

Maysilee looked down at her unpainted nails, her tone cool as strawberry ice cream but not nearly as sweet. “I hope that Panem does escape, though. Even if it takes decades, I hope the people of the districts—hell, the Capitol too—help each other out of this arena you’ve placed them in.” She looked up again, meeting Snow’s eyes. “I wish I could be there to help them, but I’ll still die happy knowing that your time will eventually come.” 

It was in this moment that Maysilee understood the appeal of the mockingjay. Previously she’d found them unpleasant, off-putting, as the offspring of natural mockingbirds and Capitol mutts. Something so connected to the Capitol had no place flittering around District 12, she’d thought. And she’d been very, very wrong. 

She hoped Merrilee would put that pin to good use. 

“It’s like my grandmother said,” Maysilee told President Snow. “Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.” She scoffed at his sour expression. “But you, President Snow, have everything to lose. There are far worse fates than death, and your life might just be the worst among them. And if I’m headed for heaven, or maybe even hell… I’m proud to go out singing.” 

Maysilee panned her gaze to the President’s gloves. “Also, you have blood on your hands.” 

He seethed. “I’m not the only one.” 

“Yeah, well, I was in the Hunger Games,” said Maysilee. “What’s your excuse?” 

She had hoped to take Snow out before she went, but did not want to give him the satisfaction of torturing her or turning her into another Lou Lou. And so Maysilee Donner reached for the bag of poison gumdrops and prepared to end this nightmare herself. 

Snow caught her wrist in his shaking hand. 

“I can’t let you do that,” he told Maysilee, his face much paler and sicklier than before. Were those tears in his eyes, or had the heavy clouds of rose aroma just finally penetrated his corneas? 

Maysilee stared him down, unsure of how to proceed. Why had he stopped her? Why did he care if she lived or died, after everything she’d just said? 

I regret it often, he’d told her before. Maysilee’s eyes widened. 

“You’re still trying to protect her,” she said, incredulously. 

Snow bowed his head. “Always.” 

The only thing Maysilee understood is that she’d just bought herself a little more time. She withdrew her arm, sat back in her seat, and assessed the spread of refreshments before her. 

Snow lifted his head and watched her think. Slowly, Maysilee reached for the carafe of coffee, her eyes fixed on the old man’s expression. The gumdrops were the only thing on this table that she knew, for a fact, were poisoned. And if Snow had stopped her when she’d tried to eat them, was it not correct to assume that anything he would let her consume was clean? 

Her theory seemed to be correct. He was watchful, but not agitated, as she poured herself a cup of black coffee. 

“Milk?” Snow asked tonelessly as she placed down the carafe. 

Maysilee shook her head. “I like it black.” 

She lifted the porcelain cup to her lips, willing her hands not to shake. But still, as she took a sip she spilled a little bit of the coffee on her white silk dress. 

Maysilee looked down on the spill, right over her left thigh. Her eyes then wandered to that damn Peacekeeper on the floor, whose bloody spit had created a small puddle beside his lifeless face. Her eyes scanned down his body until they landed on the automatic rifle at his hip. 

Maysilee swallowed her mouthful of coffee. 

“Suppose I accept your offer now,” she told Snow, as casually as she could possibly manage. He looked immediately suspicious, but she could catch relief in his expression too. She’d worn him down, clearly, having been spared where he would have likely killed anyone else. 

“You’ll see things how I do eventually,” Snow said. And if she were to live in the Capitol, Maysilee believed that she would. There wouldn’t really be any way to live with herself otherwise.

Maysilee nodded, bowing her head in deference. And then, as soon as Snow let his guard down, she flipped the entire table between them. 

It happened quickly. Snow pushed away as Maysilee lunged for the gun. Her fingers had barely grazed cool metal when the bullet pierced her chest. 

She fell to her knees, overcome by pain. Through tears she looked up to find President Snow standing above her, his small pearl-handle pistol still outstretched. 

“I’m sorry,” she heard him gasp. “I’m sorry.” 

Maysilee just shook her head, managing one last rueful grin. 

“Loser.” 

She chuckled at the absurdity of it all—herself collapsed and bleeding after a failed assasination attempt, Snow standing tall after killing her first. And still, she knew she was happier in this moment than he would be in his entire miserable life. 

There was nothing left to say. She’d tried to do her part. Maybe, in some small sense, she had. And now she would leave the world the way she’d wanted: wounded, but not bowed.

Maysilee Donner died laughing.

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

Thinking you′re so fine

Thinking you can have mine

Thinking you're in control

Thinking you′ll change me, maybe rearrange me

Think again, if that's your goal

Can′t take my sass

Can't take my talking

You can kiss my ass

Then keep on walking

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping

Oh, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 44

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.6K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The days stretched on into weeks and the absence of news about the conflict between the Night Court and Autumn Court gnawed at your stomach like a knot. You kept telling yourself that no news was better than bad news, but it did little to ease your worries. Trying to distract yourself, you threw yourself into community housing projects and outreach work. Living in the apartments now, you saw firsthand the changes that needed to be made - everything was too dull and lifeless. Despite hoping that residents would bring their own personal touches to make the place cozier, many of them had nothing more than the clothes on their backs. It was then that you decided to create a fund for hiring interior designers from Velaris' fashion districts to liven up the homes. However, many of them were hesitant to step foot into the lower end of the city, let alone work for its impoverished residents. But there were a few generous souls who gladly offered their time, resources, and expertise to help transform the complex. Plush carpeting, fresh paint, and cozy furniture slowly brought life back into the once dreary space.

Your days were now consumed with work, keeping busy whenever there was a moment of quiet. But despite your efforts, thoughts of Azriel lingered constantly. You wondered what he ate for dinner, if it was anything like the delicious chicken curry that one of the mothers had spent all afternoon preparing but didn't have enough ingredients to feed everyone. Did he reach for you in his sleep, searching for warmth and finding only cold sheets? Did he gaze at the moon and feel comfort knowing you were both living under the same night sky?

As promised, Rhysand came to the apartments three times a week, bearing trays of delectable desserts made by Elain and fabric swatches painstakingly chosen and sent by Nesta. Even though you often found yourself lost in thought, trying to discern the minute differences between the fabrics, Nesta still desperately sought your opinion on the nursery. It was an odd sight, seeing the High Lord of the Night Court seated in a too-small apartment, perched upon a rickety second-hand chair. The residents would bow down in reverence at his presence, but he would just give them a soft smile, urging them not to treat him as anything more than a visitor. You rolled your eyes at this statement, knowing all too well that those who saw him with such admiration would be shocked to see him lounging in an oversized chair in his library - feet propped up in pajamas while Nyx curled into his lap, both of their hair tousled from sleep. It was a familiar scene for you now. How had you become so intimately acquainted with the most powerful male in all of the Night Court?

Your conversations were solely focused on practical matters - discussions about the housing project, funding allocations, building permits and requests for aid. You often also worked on your shielding practice. But there was one question that lingered in your mind - if you were able to build up that barrier between you and your mate, could you return to the safety of the Townhouse, to Azriel? Although a part of you wanted to ask Rhysand for his plans regarding your future, you hesitated. You thought it better to live in the naivety that if you just worked hard enough on your shielding you might be able to go home instead of the more probably reality that even if you could keep everyone out, you wouldn’t be allowed back until everything had been resolved.

—

The bed was like a slab of concrete, the sheets coarse and rough against your skin as you lay on your side. The darkness of the room seemed to press in, with only the faint light from the streetlights outside casting long shadows of trees onto the ceiling. The branches swayed and scraped against the window, causing an eerie rhythm that matched the howling wind outside. You squinted at your clock, trying to make out the time. Was it nearing three in the morning? It felt like hours had passed since you crawled into bed, but sleep still eluded you. With a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back, feeling the cool lace of your nightdress brush against your fingers. The blankets were suffocatingly warm, so you kicked them off, only to be met with a sharp chill from the drafty windows that refused to seal properly. Another thing to add to your never-ending list of things to fix within the apartments.

You slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the hard mattress beneath you as you sat up. Rubbing your tired eyes, you took a moment to adjust to the dimly lit room. With a sigh, you stood up and your toes touched the cold wood floor, sending a shiver through your body. Your back ached with exhaustion as you walked over to the desk on the other side of the room. Flicking on a small lamp, you pulled on the cozy wool cardigan that was draped over the chair, still warm from when you had thrown it there earlier in the day. The thick material hugged your body as you settled into the desk chair, surrounded by stacks of papers waiting to be sorted through. The desk was cluttered and much too small for all of your work, so instead of working there, you often spread everything out on the floor like a giant map. But tonight, it was too late for that, so you simply grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and started writing a letter to a contractor who could potentially fix your broken windows.

As you wrote down a few words, a cool breeze brushed against your ankle, causing you to look down in surprise. But there was nothing there. You shook your head, pushing away any creeping feelings of loneliness or sadness. Brushing a strand of hair out of your face, you continued writing. Suddenly, another chill ran up your leg and you couldn't ignore it any longer. Pushing away from the desk, you got down on your hands and knees to investigate.

In the corner of the room, two shadows darted up the wall and disappeared into darkness. You let out a light laugh and whispered out into the empty space, "Hello." Your voice caused ripples in the darkness and for a brief moment, it seemed like something was stirring.

"It's okay," you whispered again, beckoning them closer. "Come down!"

One of the shadows hesitantly crept out from the darkness, moving along the top of the wall like a cautious cat. "Don't be shy," you encouraged with a soft laugh.

The shadow paused for a moment, its edges rippling and shifting in thought. Slowly, it started to make its way down the wall, eventually morphing into a thin line before dissolving into a pile on the floor. "Come on," you whispered, crouching down and reaching out your hand.

The other shadow, slightly smaller than the first, followed suit and slithered down the wall towards you. It stayed close to the floor, wrapping around your ankles as it cautiously approached. As it touched your fingertips, you could feel the coldness of its touch enveloping your hand in a grey fog. But as it recognized your touch, it seemed to gain confidence and began moving more quickly up your arm.

You couldn't help but giggle as the cool tickle of the first shadow joined by another, both climbing onto your lap and wrapping themselves around you. The first shadow seemed to have a mind of its own, making its way up your body until it reached your neck, sending a shiver down your spine with its chilly touch. It then weaved through your hair, lightly tugging at strands as it hid behind you while the second shadow curled around your thighs and settled in your lap.

"Did he send you?" You whispered. The shadows seemed to quiver with excitement and you took that as a yes. "Is he doing alright?" The shadows seemed to pause momentarily, their movements becoming more drawn out as if considering your question. You couldn't bring yourself to hope for good news as the shadow on your lap curled down towards the floor. Suddenly, it slithered over to the lamp, coiling around the adjustable arm and then rearing up as though it was looking right at you. You raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What?" The shadow continued its slithering path, occasionally stopping to seemingly look at you.

You stood up and approached the lamp where the shadow seemed to pause in its journey, staring back at you. "What do you want?" You asked, reaching out to touch the lamp and adjusting the arm slightly downwards. The shadow halted its movement so you stopped yours as well. But when you started moving the arm of the lamp back up, the shadow picked up its pace again. You soon realized that this was how it communicated. As you turned the lamp upwards, the light illuminated against the wall, casting bright rays against the otherwise bland beige paint. In what seemed like pure excitement, the shadow scampered down your arm and back up again before joining its companion on the wall.

You took a cautious step back, your eyes locked on the two shadows as they seemed to merge and shift against the wall. The darkness coalesced into a swirling mass, like ink spilled on a canvas, until it finally split apart into two distinct figures. The larger shadow moved to one side of the light while the smaller one slunk to the opposite, as if in a dance.

Feeling a chill run down your spine, you retreated further onto the bed and pulled the rough wool blanket over your legs. As you watched, transfixed, the larger shadow began to take shape - sharp edges forming and an image materializing before your eyes. It was a male figure, with wings that resembled those of a bat. Your heart caught in your throat as the other shadow also shifted into a silhouette of a female.

The two shadows turned to face each other, their postures mirroring that of two lovers leaning against a windowsill. But then, the larger shadow split into two smaller pieces that scampered across the wall towards the female figure. With awe, you realized that these shadows were telling you a story - how Azriel had sent them to comfort you in his absence.

A small smile tugged at your lips and you felt tears prick at your eyes - tears of joy and longing. But you quickly blinked them away as the shadows morphed once again, shifting back into their amorphous forms before intertwining in the center and taking new shapes.

This time, it was the familiar outlines of Azriel and yourself. The two shadows embraced, their arms wrapping around each other in an intimate embrace. You could almost feel Azriel's kiss pressed gently into your hair - just as he always did when you hugged.

The shadows danced and shifted, creating a mesmerizing display of figures in the dimly lit room. Azriel sat at his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he ran his hand through his hair - a nervous habit that you had grown to love. In one swift motion, he crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it away from the light, where it disappeared into the darkness.

You chuckled softly as the shadows transformed again, this time into the muscular form of Cassian with his signature half-up bun. Beside him stood Nesta, her pregnant belly rounded and glowing in the dim light. She delicately hung stars and moons onto a mobile, while Cassian worked on something below with a hammer in hand. The pile of materials suddenly transformed into a beautiful cradle, which Cassian proudly presented to Nesta.

So he had built it after all, you thought to yourself with a smile.

Cassian wrapped his strong arm around Nesta's shoulders as she rested her head against him, her hand gently tracing over her stomach. The scene before you was one of pure love and contentment, and you couldn't help but feel your heart swell at the sight.

The shifting shadows revealed Azriel, standing on a balcony overlooking the moonlit city below. The other shadow, representing the moon, soared upwards as Azriel reached out to touch it with one hand. But his posture was hunched and tense, back rising and falling as though it was sobbing. Your own tears mirrored his as you watched Nesta approach him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. The shadow of Azriel turned and fell into her embrace, continuing to cry.

The scene shifted once again, showing the shadow of Azriel and your own shadowy figure walking together, hand in hand in slow motion. As you continued walking forward, the shadow of Azriel suddenly stopped and reached back for you. Your shadow turned to face him and he rushed towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up into the air with joy. A bittersweet laugh escaped your lips as the shadow of Azriel brought your figure close to his, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

In another scene, the shadows depicted a family dinner with Cassian, Azriel, Rhysand, Feyre, Nyx, Lucien, Elain, and an empty chair. As the shadows sat down to eat and a somber silence settled over them, even little Nyx remained still in his seat. The shadow of Azriel looked towards the empty chair – your chair – and you could feel their longing for you.

Once more, the shadows shifted to show Nyx standing on a platform with Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys at the edge of a lake. The shadows moved like waves over the water as Nyx took a running leap off the platform, his small wings flapping furiously before giving out and sending him plunging into the water below. The shadow of Cassian erupted in laughter while the shadow of Azriel pretended to winnow down to rescue the little boy. The scene repeated a few more times until finally, Nyx took a running leap and his wings caught in the air, allowing him to flap upwards with pride. The shadows of the three males on the platform joined Nyx in the air, their wings unfurling in celebration. He had learned to fly, something Feyre had been so worried about.

The shadows danced and shifted, revealing scenes from your old life that you had never truly appreciated until now. Moments with Azriel stood out the most - curling up on the couch together, wandering through the vibrant streets of Velaris. As they settled into place, the cool touch of the shadows caressed your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine. One shadow even reached out to brush away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. You let out a soft sniffle and whispered, "Thank you."

In response, the shadows seemed to flicker and settle further around you, as if trying to comfort you in their own way. You allowed yourself to fully absorb the sensation of being enveloped by them, knowing it was Azriel who had sent them, directing them to show you what you had missed and how much he longed for you.

Feeling grateful, you shared your own memories with the shadows, including a few moments that you knew would make Azriel blush for slightly different reasons. With a smile, you thanked the shadows once more and watched as they dissipated into the night, carrying your love and longing back to their master who was surely missing you just as much as you were missing him.

Readers: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria

@florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt

@quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

@annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardust

@caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf

@acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninne @weepingwerewolf

@hauntedpiratenacho

[the-selfinsert]

Jackpot Masterpost!

So, you've come to learn about the wealthiest, the most dastardly, the most devilishly handsome and wonderfully evil fellow in all the multiverse? My friend, you're in luck. Right here is where you can find all the relevant information in regards to him! (Co-creator is and all art by @written-in-the-stars135)

Home AU(s): Undertale, Negativetale

Backstory - Jackpot originally comes from a King Mettaton neutral route ending. One day, missing Alphys, he goes into her lab to reminisce. There he finds her research on alternate timelines, and learns of her Determination experiments. Upon learning this, he begins to obsess over her unfinished work, learning more and more about the nature of alternate timelines, determination, and how they interacted

Eventually, he decides in a fit of longing for how things used to be to direct all the kingdom's resources towards creating a machine that would be able to reset the world and bring it back to before the human fell.

All goes smoothly right up until the machine is activated, where its activation caused an accident that destroyed his home timeline, completely erasing it and sending him flying across universes. This is how he landed in Negativetale after the events of that universe's story, with no memories.

Without his memories, he wandered aimlessly for a while, before letting old instincts kick in. Influenced and inspired by his surroundings, he created a casino, and slowly began to spread his influence throughout the Underground, becoming a criminal overlord who ruled the Underground with an iron fist.

Eventually, this catches the attention of Nightmare, who sees a large opportunity. He offers to help Jackpot expand from where he's at already, and into the wider multiverse, offering him an empty timeline (Not dissimilar to the Omega Timeline before Core Frisk appeared in it) and the resources to get started and build a new casino there, in addition to giving him the ability to traverse universes on his own. Jackpot gladly accepted, and their partnership began.

Relationships - Business Partners with Nightmare, his one and only equal. Enemies with Core Frisk (And he's a petty bitch about it too). The person he hates the most.

Fun facts: The central casino has its own unique set of playing cards distinct from the traditional ones. The traditional symbols are replaced with Apples, Souls, Determination Stars, and Crowns (In the design of the casino's brand). All basic cards come in yellow and black.

All face cards are replaced with Jackpot in various name appropriate outfits, save for the joker card, which instead depicts a dejected looking Core Frisk (Again, he's a petty bitch)

He and his subordinates use gem-studded chips to signal membership to each other, and to entice new recruits by implying there's great wealth in it for them.

Jackpot, much like Core (And done in no small part to spite them) will take in survivors of devastated AUs and bring them in to work at the central casino, often forcing them to sign contracts that turn them into indentured servants with a massive debt to pay off in exchange for rescuing them

He does in fact sell insurance against Error and other such disasters to your AU, if yours is valid, you will have a rescue team sent. Only applies to those who pay, not for the AU itself (unless he's got a reason to try and mess with someone that strong)

Jackpot x Nightmare ship name is Nightlife LMAO (Not canon strictly speaking, but consider it an officially endorsed crack ship)

Extras (Other details and ideas about him that I felt shouldn't be put here)

The places you can read about him:

Where Nightmare has a business meeting with Jackpot

In which Jackpot develops completely normal levels of dislike about Core

And remember, if there's anything you want to know, asks are always welcome!

[callixpene]

L&DS LIs When You Pick Another LI Over Them Part 2

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

Part 1

******

Note: This fic is based on my personal opinion of how the boys would react if you had chosen another LI over them.

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

Xavier: You chose Sylus

"The Leader of Onichynus must be up to no good....I'm worried that he might be using you."

Xavier said as you both walked along the halls of the Association.

No matter how hard you tried reassuring him that Sylus was definitely not using you, and that he takes your relationship very seriously, Xavier would have none of it.

"I just don't trust that man. Please ......just stay away from him. If you stay in the N109 Zone, you'd be in his territory. You'd be at the palm of his hand, if he wants to use you for his schemes-"

"Sylus would NEVER do anything to hurt me" you cut him off. "He and I might have got off on the wrong foot, but that doesn't matter now." You looked at Xavier with conviction." Believe me when I say he would do anything for me, and so would I, for him."

Xavier's irises shook.

He too, would do absolutely anything for you.

Yet, you had chosen a dangerous, vile criminal, to be your lover instead, when he was right there next to you....

Still, despite his worries, and his hurt, he would accept your choice.

Although you kept stating that Sylus loves you and would never harm you, should he ever suspect that Sylus had hurt you, or made you cry, whether it be intentional or not, Xavier would march into the heart of the N109 zone and cut him down himself.

Rafayel: You chose Xavier

"So your boyfriend....what does he do exactly?"

Rafayel tried to keep his expression and posture neutral as he asked you, though he couldn't hold back the slight bitterness in his tone.

"Xavier is a Hunter too, he's the best in the entire Association!" you exclaimed proudly.

Rafayel winced. He stared at his half-eaten salmon.

He was finally able to take you dinner to this new restaurant after trying to convince you for weeks, but now you're busy gushing about another man.

"Xavier's also my main partner in missions. He's so strong and dependable, I was so lucky he offered to be-"

"You sure you're serious about this guy?" Rafayel cut you off.

Not long after Rafayel had spotted you two at the park that night, he used all his resources to look into Xavier's background.

He couldn't find out much about the guy you were dating. The only information he was able to collect was that he worked at the Hunter's Association and that he lived in the same apartment complex as you.

"I mean he seems pretty bland and boring. You could definitely do much better. There's plenty of fish in the sea. Better-looking, more fun to be around, would give you the world on a silver platter, would wait centuries for you....."

You raised a brow. "Rafayel what-"

"Like the fishie sitting right in front of you...." He gave you a sad, sincere smile. "Even if you're with someone else, he'd wait for you to come back to him, no matter how long it takes."

"Rafayel.....I'm so sorry. I can't. I don't want to get your hopes up. I love Xavier...." You rambled, trying to come up with a way to make this less painful for him-

But Rafayel reaches out to touch your cheek, his thumb traces your jaw to your bottom lip.

"If he ever upsets you, or if you ever get sick of him, come to me anytime. I'll always be here for you, and I'll show you why you should pick me over him" he said with determination.

Should you be hurt in the future, Rafayel would let you use him like a tissue, let you cry on him then let you throw him away afterwards. He would gladly even offer to comfort you with his body.

He's determined that if he keeps pushing himself back into your life, then maybe you'd choose him and love him instead.

He's waited a long time to be with you again. He was willing to do anything at this point to keep you in his life.

Zayne: You chose Rafayel

Dr. Zayne immediately tensed when you entered the office.

It was your routine check-up.

Zayne had been looking forward to seeing you all week. It was the only thing that kept him going after he found out you already had a lover.

At the very least, during these check-ups, he had you all to himself, though he wouldn't be able to act on his feelings, he told himself it would be enough to just be in your presence.

But now, you were accompanied by, Zayne recognized, the purple-haired man he witnessed kissing you passionately after you left on your last check-up.

He was crushed.

"Rafayel, this is Dr. Zayne. He's my primary care physician, and he's also my childhood friend." You said as you smiled at your boyfriend.

"Pleased...to meet you" Zayne outstretched his hand. He really didn't want to, but he had to be civil and professional.

Rafayel shook his hand with a rather tight grip and gave Zayne a stern look.

Zayne already didn't like him, and that look only made him dislike Rafayel even more.

During the entire check up, Rafayel held your hand. His fingers were tightly intertwined with yours.

As Zayne was discussing his medical findings and advice, Rafayel laid his head on your shoulder. Your hand instinctively went to pet him on the head and Rafayel shot Zayne a triumphant smirk.

Zayne could only tighten the grip he had on his clipboard as he continued to speak.

This man had taken the girl he had loved for years and now he was intentionally taunting him.

Right now, Zayne hated Rafayel with his entire being.

********

"You'll be fine. As long as you continue to take your medication on time and don't overexert yourself, your condition won't affect your duties as a Hunter."

"That's good to hear, Doctor. We'll be off now." Rafayel said as he quickly got up and pulled you out of the office. You could only manage a swift "Bye Dr. Zayne!" before the doors shut behind you.

Zayne slumped back into his seat.

He prayed to whatever God was listening with a heavy heart that on your next check-up, that bastard wouldn't be with you.

He just wanted to be alone with you for a short time.

Was that too much to ask for?

Sylus: You chose Zayne

Sylus left empty-handed that night.

You had chosen to stay with that Doctor.

He left your apartment, heartbroken and livid.

Luke, Kieran and his other subordinates were terrified to speak or be anywhere near him in the weeks that followed.

Still, Sylus would not give up so easily.

With Mephisto's help, he specifically chose a day where Zayne had several surgeries lined up, so he could visit you at your home for a very long chat.

"Tell me Kitten....what does that Doctor have that I don't?" He started, calmly, with his hurt and jealousy hidden behind a confident smirk. "Surely, you can't be that interested in him? He barely has any time for you. He seems like the type who would prioritize work over you. I, on the other hand, can-"

"Sylus" You cut him off. "I love Zayne. He is everything to me. I'm really sorry." You said with finality.

The calm exterior that Sylus hid behind collapsed as he heard this confession from you.

"Tell me you hate him. Tell me that night with him meant nothing to you. Tell me you slept with him to make me jealous. Give me excuses, Kitten. Anything. Anything but that."

"Those would be lies, Sylus. I'm really sorry. " You said, apologetically. You didn't know how to make it less hurtful for him.

Sylus didn't know what to do.

You've now made it clear that you were not interested in anyone except for that damned doctor.

If he were to get rid of Zayne, you would be hurt....and you would hate him. He did not want that.

"Fine then, Kitten" Sylus said, once again hiding his hurt with a smirk. "We can definitely still have fun and play around, at my place, if you know what I mean. That Doctor doesn't have to know...."

It was a long shot, to get you to cheat on your lover with him, but he would keep pressing on, trying to seduce you. Because even if your desire was all that he could have of you, he'll gladly take it.

Better than nothing at all, Sylus taught bitterly.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Hello! Could I get some platonic hcs on a young scientist reader who's currently researching FEV and super mutants. What interactions would they have with Arcade, Curie, Lily Bowen, Fawkes and Marcus? If that's too many characters feel free to cut a few! Have a great day!

Arcade, Curie, Lily, Fawkes, and Marcus's Reactions to a Scientist Researching FEV

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » none ➼ Genre » Platonic

When Arcade first notices you studying FEV and the effects of the virus, he’ll immediately get ahold of his contacts in Westside to ask if Mean Sonofabitch can come to visit for a few hours so you can have a subject derive your questions. The Followers are a little low on resources at any given time, so there's not much else he can offer you to be of any use, but if you asked him for something, he'd be glad to see what he can do to retrieve it for you. His Enclave connections can be vitally helpful with your research too, so, depending on how close you both are, he wouldn't mind introducing you to the people who raised him and granting you more knowledge on the subject. He has a slight interest in the topic himself, mainly because it reminds him of his short-lived time in Navarro, and he loves helping out his fellow scientists in any way he can. So, helping you out with this is very fulfilling for him, especially since it's for a beneficial cause.

Curie finds it admirable that you’re so passionate about the subject. It’s so hard to find anyone whose focus isn’t only on survival but a genuine interest in a topic. She doesn’t understand the FEV as much as you might, but she can only hope you’re planning on using the knowledge you’ve accumulated for the betterment of those who suffered from it. She'll try to lure Strong into your makeshift lab to help with your studies, and she's surprisingly successful. She considers herself more of a biologist, so having a real-life subject would make it easier for her to be of aid in your research. However, it can get a little chaotic at times as Strong doesn't care for the research part of this at all, and he has spontaneous spurts of violence whenever Curie gets too close. Can't say you didn't try!

Lily recommends her doctor to you when you mention your interest. You'd probably get more out of him than you ever would from her. She's not great with all the science stuff, but Dr. Henry is. She'll walk you there as soon as you're ready and sit patiently in the lab as the two of you work and run tests, either on her or the others in Jacobstown. She's already lost all hope of ever turning human again, but she doesn't want to tell you that, afraid that she'd end up discouraging you from trying to help. So, she just sits and smiles, happy that you've found something to be passionate about in such a downer of a place.

Fawkes feels a glimmer of hope grow inside of him when you tell him what your research is about. He’s dreamed of being human again for as long as he could remember and if you plan on discovering a cure, then he’d be happy to help you in any way he could. Even if you're just fascinated with the field, he's still going to feel a surge of pride swell within him. The idea of someone whom he holds to such a high position for finding his condition interesting instead of disgusting makes him happy. He'll gladly answer any questions or be a part of any research you may be conducting at any given time. He just finds himself so genuinely happy to be regarded as useful, especially to someone like you.

Marcus will set you up with as good of a lab as he can offer in Jacobstown. The mutants there need this, and he’d do anything for his brothers and sisters if it meant that there'd be a chance they’d get their humanity back. The others won’t understand your interests at all and might be hostile toward you for it, but Marcus will always be there to ensure you're not being picked on by the others too much. He'll forever be grateful for your desire to help and will give you anything you could need; food, water, protection, a bed to sleep in - anything you need, he'll see what he can do to make happen. It's the least he can do to thank you, even if you don't end up discovering anything. Whatever you do will still be more than most have tried to do for them.

[asksweetvanilla]

(OOC - This is a second letter that accompanied the first one. I broke them down into two separate asks because I was worried it would clutter the first one, hope that’s okay!)

Dear Archivist,

It was never my intention to be deceitful, I assure you. I simply often use my title as a signature. Since I am meant to be the voice of the Creme Republic in official matters, my name does not always bear significance when I am meant to speak for a great many deal of Cookies.

I shall put you in contact with the mage, Espresso Cookie, as you have requested. I suspect he also received an original letter from Sweet Vanilla Cookie as I did, though he has a tendency to ignore any mail he receives unless it bears a familiar seal or is marked as ‘urgent’.

As for your warning, you have my word that neither the Creme Republic nor I bear any ill will towards the academy. If anything, in these uncertain times, we are seeking to have more allies than enemies. While the Creme Republic would like to continue this exchange of information, please understand that pursuing the location of an elusive academy is not how we currently wish to divide our resources.

Although I trust your academy has excellent defenses as you have implied, I beseech you to trek with caution, now more than ever before. I do not wish to insert myself in your private affairs or trifle with your stances, but please understand that a student who once walked your halls no longer bears the compassion he once did. 

You… shall understand what I mean once you are more up to date with the papers.

-Sincerely

Clotted Cream Cookie, Consul of the Creme Republic🐚

Dear Consul Clotted Cream Cookie,

I understand it was not your intention, but as you can probably understand, caution is the key to keep yourself and others in your care safe. Though, it did not surprise me, as not very many cookies have shared their full names to my ward, so I do not hold it against you.

Thank you. You may just tell him to pen me a letter and drop it into the well with some sort indication it is for me so Sweet Vanilla does not accidentally open it. If he could send me a list of knowledge that was lost to the Dark Flour War I will gladly begin looking through my archives for anything pertaining it.

While I would offer our ally-ship if I could, it is neither my place, nor is it possible for us to be of much help considering we are dead and bound to these grounds. I have read a bit of ahead of my ward, and I fear that we are in part responsible for the return of this Dark Enchantress. Ask those children that made a mess of our Hall of Enlightenment for more details if you must. If you want samples of the moonstone that she was sealed in I can send it to you, though that will take time as the Headmaster does not allow many down there anymore.

As for your warning...like I said...I have read ahead of my ward. I had a feeling. There must be a curse upon this school, truly, that two of our brightest students were cleaved into two by magic so vile. Magic of the soul should not be taken lightly... and now this mess had occurred twice over.

Thank you for your time,

The Archivist

[porcelain-feather]

Why bother with mortal souls at all? This question frequently appears in circles of newer witchlings, especially those nearing the end of their first century, and it makes sense at a passing glance. Mortals are such fleeting things filled with so many desires and emotions that it doesn't seem to make sense to use them for the crafting of Dolls. Dolls are meant to Serve, to Obey, and when not following orders, to be Still. Would it not make more sense to use clockwork? Or perhaps carefully crafted spells, precise and calculated things with known function? The most common answer is not in words, but in methodology. Nod your head along and say "Well, that sounds quite reasonable. Why don't you try doing things that way?" They will get eager and excited (a darling quality of the younger witchlings) and take off to go execute their plan. Make a mark on your calendar the day that this conversation happened for future reference, and then wait two or three years for things to follow their natural course. When the witchling returns to you, crying real tears like the mortals she so recently scorned, give her a hug and ask what's wrong. Yes, the situation is grave enough to warrant such a display. Be genuine here. This is one of the most important lessons a witchling learns along her road to becoming a true witch.

My home is so cold, and the fire cannot warm it. Every day things are as silent as the grave but without any of the peace. Have I been cursed? What is happening? The witchling has just learned the important difference between simple automata* (both mechanical and arcane) and things that are animated with a soul: the former are incapable of love and attraction, while the latter offer it freely. If there is an abundance of mortals who will gladly put their soul in your hand and ask, nay, beg you to chisel away the parts they hate, the flesh they loathe, their imperfections and flaws and weaknesses, why wouldn't a witch use this plentiful resource to make something beautiful? We need love to survive, to stay sane against the heavy toll time tries to take from us, and this is the easiest and most reliable place to get it. When you have explained this to the witchling, she will understand the reason why we use mortals. If she is particularly keen, she will use this experience to guide her hands as she picks up her next mortal soul to fashion into a proper Doll. Remind her that the alternative to needing love is to walk the path of the Lich, and if such a thought tempts you, just remember this: When was the last time you saw a Lich filled with anything besides hatred, resentment, and loathing? More importantly, when was the last time you saw one wearing something that could be charitably described as pretty?

*It should be noted here that these lessons are specific to simple automata, not automata in general. More advanced creations are completely capable of expressing and feeling emotions, even to the level of or exceeding the most finely crafted Dolls. Many of them are in fact considered Dolls due to their equivalence! But these creations are not the sort that a young witchling will craft so early on in her life, save for the most extraordinary cases, and those that do manage such a feat quite clearly do not need to learn the lesson detailed above.

A. Hawthorn, 'Lessons for Young Witchlings'

[ann3dre]

LA SQUADRA TUTORING YOU HEAD CANNONS(ft. Other headcannons too)

All are platonic

ft: Sorbet and Gelato too!

If you want a hc on how the bucci gang would tutor you heres a link!: Bucci gang tutoring reader

•formaggio

He's a highschool drop out. But that doesnt go to say he isnt smart he's plenty resourceful and when it comes to sudden moments of distress he can calculate how to get his ass out of it in a second. Sometimes his parents wish he wouldve applied it to his studies before. Anyway back to tutoring, his ass would go like narancia but you would have to BEG him to teach him to feed his ego. 'I dunno im kinda busy ..' 'I think i'd be too smart for this you wont be able to keep up!'

it took 30 minutes to get him to teach you. When he does he cant understand jackshit whats on the paper but he tries to play it cool "uh 7x - 5 uh... Its 100000!". In the end your ass fails your homework or whatever you were studying for and when you go to formaggio about it he just laughs it off and maybe he would try to make up for it maybe offering you to watch one of your favorite movies.

•Illuso:

You kidding?... He's a highschool graduate and didnt bother with college. Like formaggio he needs a beg to feed his ego in order for him to actually accept to teach you and... 90% of him tutoring is just him insulting you and his sarcastic remarks for each example question. Even when you get an answer right the first try he goes 'WOWWWW yOu GoT ThAt RiGht!' in the most annoying tone that makes you wanna hit him so hard. When you apply it to ur homework you get half of the questions right but if you apply it to your studies... You just get too annoyed and cram them thanks to illuso's snide remarks. You swear you can still hear him when you pick up that pen and paper.

•Ghiaccio:

You now know the past present and future lessons by heart mind and soul... But at what cost?. Ghiaccio is a stem graduate who missed humanitys and purposely cutted at english/literature class back in highschool.

He's pretty smart but he's impatient. When you ask he's annoyed but he reluctantly agrees. During your study sesh even if you cry and plead you wont be able to leave until you know everything about not just the lesson BUT THE SUBJECT AS A WHOLE (assuming its math/sciences). Even if you run away he will freeze you down.

Ghiaccio:"You started this you finish it. SIT YOUR ASS DOWN"

•Melone:

'IM NOT A CHILD DAMNIT!"-you

A lot of people think he's a med school drop out. They're kinda right Let me word this better, he technically didn't drop out or turn to the mafia right away he just switched paths and switched up. Turns out he didnt want to be a Clinical Embryologist but maybe something simplier... A teacher and tried getting a bachelors degree in early childhood education.

(Which is funny because even with the career change he still landed himself in the mafia.)

And even when he changed he didnt finish that either!

But that explains why he's really good at teaching and also given his stand he also has to do a lot of teaching. Convincing him isn't that hard he just agrees and is actually really happy about it. Side note though you now feel like a child. You appreciate how he dumbs it down for you but if you're not the kind of person who likes being babied you'd be very irritated in this teaching sesh. When youre done you understand the lesson a lot! But again if youre the type to get annoyed that you are treated like a child you'll feel a little pissy.

•Prosciutto :

This is no longer math its the MILITARY. He probably completed college, what course? He'd never say, though rumors say its something in economics/marketing but what's been confirmed so far has nothing to do with what he took in college/university just what he did.

They say that he was an intern for a modelling company and thats it. So its not sure what he pursued.

Back to tutoring! When you approach him he gladly accepts but you'd have to schedule. But now you find yourself doing push ups while Prosciutto says 'Whats the answer to 1x²+x-3!?' and you'll have to shout back at the answer. When youre not exercising expect him beside you watching your every move on the desk. The plus side he gives little hints to the answer to slight hand movements to mouthing it.

By the end of tutor lesson you now know the lesson better! And now have Prosciutto as your designated tutor so youre stuck with him! Be prepared to meet him again when you get a low score though, turns out he found a way to keep tabs on your grades..

How? We dont know either.

•Pesci:

Pesci had to be pulled out because their parents couldn't fund his education any further, and needed them to help out with work (fishing) in order to bring more money to the table.

Due to this Pesci is a little insecure about it so he's really hesitant to accept to tutor you! He's very nervous so sometimes he gets back on his word when he's pointing things out and going 'Okay so this is.. Wait holdon i might be wrong!'. Study sesh is a mess and you cant even get mad at the guy he's trying his best. Even so you still thank Pesci and Pesci says that he didnt help at all and you say its alright and he did help. In the end you study on your own and get good marks you go to pesci and say that he's tutoring helped you out to make him feel better!

•Risotto:

"Risotto that's too in depth! I get it now, we've been on the same topic for the past hour!"-you

You thought it'll be really boring but... HE CANT JUST STOP TALKING AND TALKINGGGG!?...

Risotto is a highschool graduate and like Illuso didnt bother with college but didnt have the same motives thinking its useless or anything, but he already knows where he would end up and continue to do the rest of his life. Even so he is really well red and still is book smart! So theres no wonder how he knows certain stuff. When something you don't know happens he will info dump on how and why the phenomenon happened and end off the sentence with "... I read it in a book once.."

When you ask he nods and agrees, but like Prosciutto, you gotta schedule since he's usually busy. You thought it'll be a normal study sesh and its just gonna be boring because at surface level Risotto is a very quiet man. But no! He wasnt nonchalant! Motherfuck wont stop yapping and introducing topics you haven't studied yet either that or he's over simplified the equation its been an hour! to the point you cant even answer he just continues and continues and continues. If you tell him about it though he slows down and matches your pace, this kinda shows his dorky side and how passionate he is in academics. Dont worry he's a very observant man so he knows what parts you have a hard time with and tries to teach you but he just gets caught up in the moment he goes.. and....

In the end you barely remember shit just the moment of surprise on how Risotto tutored you.

if you're doing homework you got all marks but you have no idea what you were tutored about.

•Gelato:

Go to sorbet.

I like the head cannon that Gelato and sorbet were ex military but I think only Gelato is ex military. If you come to him for tutoring he just refers you to sorbet and wont budge at all and if youre really persistent he gets real annoyed so expect a bruise and not even getting sorbet to tutor you after, cause you pissed off gelato.

•Sorbet:

You gotta pay a small, (BIG) fee first. Sorbet graduated marketing and economics yeah thats right he got a joint degree thats why he's really good at money or at least knows better on how to use it. Thats why gelato tells you to go to sorbet instead because this is the type of stuff he's specialized in. But he is not a good teacher he cant even explain it properly the whole study sesh is you being confused as hell, and the cherry on top of this disaster he gets mad when the answer is 0 (EVEN THOUGH ITS THE Correct ANSWER) but he thought its money somehow. When youre done he goes 'There ya go✨!'

and you dont know jack shit.

Authors note: No doodle unfortunately but this one's pretty Lengthy and features everyone from la squadra!!!!! I based Risotto's on his fight with dia and dop, with Pesci's I wanted to make a parallel between him and Bruno in a way. I also wanted to write more about Gelato and Sorbet but with the little we know of them I just winged it.. What do yall think?

Should I make little doodles of these too? Do you guys have requests? Feel free to tell me!

[mychlapci]

Through bribing the court jester, our junior advisor learns of how the stablemaster and the chief knight have been having an affair with each other for a decade, tiring of how their respective wives have been shunning them for their permanent limp dicks at home. Ever resourceful, he uses this to his advantage.

The junior advisor first avails himself to the stablemaster, offering an additional helping hand to feed and groom the horses. And whenever the chief knight comes around, either to bring his steed in or out of the stable, or for a clandestine hookup with the stablemaster, the junior advisor takes extra care to perform each task as sexily as possible. Draping himself all over the magnificent beasts as he brushes their manes. Going commando to show off his supple pussy from beneath his dress whenever he bends down to clean their hooves or wash their flanks. Moaning sensual words of encouragement whenever he's guiding a stallion to breed a mare. It makes the two old men a little flustered to see such brazen behavior from someone who looks so pure and innocent.

After a while, once he's gotten down a reliable schedule of when they are having one of their secret rendezvouses in a secluded barn, he springs to action. "Accidentally" barging in on them, acting all blushy and embarrassed, then shyly asking if he could watch. Unable to resist his cuteness, they gladly invite him to join their coupling, their flaccid cocks small and soft, easily fitting inside the junior advisor's wet pussy together without issue. The master of the kitchens are next...

OoHh lord, we need to let the junior advisor work around our stables for once, how wonderful he looks with his pussy bare under his skirt! (turns to large breasted advisor) new orders, no bloomers for you or the manservants, jot that down. Anyways (turns back to the crystal ball) Oh, I can't wait to see how he seduces the last of the staff, he took those limp dicks so well.