#apothecary is next i have ideas >:)

[sieglinde-freud]

If you had to pick a second trio of awakening kids to put in fates (on Hishido's side) who would you send, why, and where would put them (ie who's retainers would they be and who would they replace or where would they be serving in Hoshido if not retainers).

SORRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE FIVE YEARS TO GET TO, STEDY… i saw it and i was like “ooh i gotta think about this i’ll come back” and then. and then i forgor… BUT ANYWAYSSS

so, to hoshido????? well… i think realistically theyd go down the popularity poll. they seem to want to avoid lucina (lord) and morgan (two of them, picking one means making one and also one robin canon) so next on the list iirc is noire, brady, and gerome. and i think that could work pretty okay, but i think they just kind of all have one fatal flaw here: none of them would be down to go.

the awakening trio works because yeah!! yeah i absolutely buy all three of them being game to go fuck off to a new world because some pathetic man begged them to help save lives. gerome though?? no!! gerome hardly wanted to go back in time to save HIS OWN WORLD!! brady cant fight CANONICALLY, and i highly doubt he’d want to step foot on another battlefield. and noire… i think someone could make a case for noire being willing to come. but i think she’d prefer staying with tharja and protecting the baby version of herself more. and without proper encouragement which would mostly likely come from severa who is. not here. i dont think she’d be too willing. AND I KNOW THAT MEANS IM MISSING OUT ON NOIRE!RHAJAT BUT… come on. you think im gonna give noire to hayato anyways?? no.

so!! a more interesting alternative? kjelle, cynthia, and laurent. i think kjelle and cynthia would be so down if they thought they were gonna be protecting innocents. kjelle wants to fight, grow stronger, and protect, and her natural element is the battlefield. cynthia wants to be a hero and fight for justice, and what better than a country protecting its homeland? as for laurent, i think he’d also like to save people, but i just think this guy would also like traveling around for education purposes. a new land means more insight to gain, and more things to share with his mother when he comes back. so. yeah. perhaps not the tightest reasoning, but i think its much more realistic than like. gerome. sooo

cynthia would most likely stay a pegasus knight? i dont see a reason to change her class. but armor knight is nohrian while sage doesnt exist in fates (technically. im aware onmyoji is the equivalent) sooo they’d have to change. i think theres a few things you could do with kjelle? spear fighter is probably the obvious choice, but i think kinda similar to owain, she’d like a chance to try out other weapons, probably to demonstrate her strength. and for this im strongly leaning master of arms prepromote. yes she’d still have spear access, but having mastered katanas and clubs during her time in hoshido could be really fun i think. as for laurent… lol. apothecary. hes not really here to fight but like. he can. promote him to merchant and he’ll start throwing the army’s treasury at you. dont fuck with him! but obviously kjelle would have armor knight access via heart seal and i think i’d give laurent troubador over dark mage just to reference miriel having that class in awakening but it could go either way. cynthia would probably have… uh. ummmm… fuck. wait. i dont know. sumia gets armor knight and cleric. can we j be funny and give her merc so she has hero access :/// ok thanks

if were following the same format as the og trio, i would j plant them as retainers to make it simple. and… i think i’d go:

kjelle - ryoma

laurent - hinoka

cynthia - sakura

im completely willing to change on this honestly. i thought long and hard about it and then i went “hm. no.” and ended up here. my logic is that of the awakening trio, laslow definitely seems to be the strongest and is nohr’s crown prince’s retainer, and of these three, kjelle is probably the strongest, so same treatment. i also considered the dynamic between saizo and kagero and i just think she’d work the best with them. no bullshit, just work. plus, in a samurai class (moa promotes from samurai) she’d fit in better with ninja than a flier and a uh. a guy.

i put laurent with hinoka and i almost didnt because i think he could have an interesting dynamic with the other royals too. but then i was like “okay. of the three: who would fit into hinokas retainer dynamic that just seems to be ‘giving hinoka a hard time’” and well!!! i think!!! i think its laurent!!! i think laurent would just be engrossed in his studies and the difference in technological progress compared to ylisse (no fireworks but they have giant puppets??? the dolls with the saws??? TANKS????) and hinokas like “uh. hey. did you eat any of ur last three meals?” and he goes “no but i DID make a gun” and azama and setsuna are just like “woahhh thats fucking awesome dude” and i just think if i gave hinoka kjelle or cynthia it wouldnt be as funny. i do things for the bit. always.

and that leaves cynthia for the other two and… i dont actually think she’d go to takumi. i think sakura and her retainers is a much more realistic possibility because takumis trio is just. so. fucking look at them… itd be odd to shove a fourth person in there. it COULD work, but also i kinda just like the idea of cynthia pledging herself to sakura. she’d be all hyped about it too like “the brave warrior defending her princess?!! yessss!!” and sakura would be like. so down for cynthias flower throwing entrance or whatever (with… sakura petals?? yes????) and idk i just think they would be neat. and she could be a nice mediator between subaki and hana who just like. wont shut the fuck up. she’ll either make it better by being a nice middle man or make it worse by also not shutting up except its about something completely different and no progress gets made. both fine outcomes, i think.

and then they fight nohr and go to war with their besties forevs!!!!!!! wooooo!!!! im not writing that out. you decide how that goes. though i think a cynthia vs selena encounter would be insaane… ooh or like an cynthia vs odin justice cabal thing? oouhhvghh… but this post is long enough anyways hi stedy 👋

[cashewally-sarcastic]

Thought about a Robin Hood concept, then it evolved into "oh I can be a CRIMINAL"

[1920sladydectective]

Mhhhhh, maybe

-Ambessa x Babett's "Worker"

Or

-A captuered War Prize 😌

But also

-A Servant of Hers

Please dont feel forced to write anything, Just saw your request and wanted to give Suggestions.🙊💕

Hello darling! Thank you for the ideas, whilst I may visit them all I have done a captured war prize for now. It was supposed to be short and sexy but then it became..this? She plays the slow game and conquers the reader in other ways.

I hope you like it, thank you for the support <3

I haven't proof read it much because I am literally exhausted lol

MDNI 18+

Warnings - Manipulation, Mind Games, Captive, Degradation, Pet names, Reader doing accidental voyeurism, Oral, hair pulling.

Her Prized Possession - 3.8K NSFW

They’d come through like a tornado, ripping apart your entire life and feasting on the rubble. People had fled, terrified of the swift and unforgiving invasion. Those who remained were rounded up and tossed into carts. The ground shook, frightened by the fury of Noxus and at the heart of it all was her. Ambessa Medarda was renowned for her cruelty, her efficiency and most of all her greed. 

You were the perfect example of that. 

You had been pulled from your apothecary’s hut, cotton dress filthy from your attempts to hide. They raided you of your life’s work, people throwing you into a pile of frightened villagers. The air shifted, the soldiers straightening as certain steps commanded their attention. Without looking up you knew it was her, and fury burned bright. This self obsessed, pompous woman had destroyed your life and for what? She lingered a step away, sword raised lazily as if taunting farm yarn animals. You only had a few seconds, and even if it was fruitless you had to try. 

As others cowered, obeying her cruel words, you slipped your fingers around the knife in your sock and shot forward. Somehow it made contact, slicing a gash into her leg, trailing down her leg. 

“Monster,” You snarled.

You were risen into the air by your hair, a pained yelp leaning you as you stared into the eyes of a hungry beast. Golden eyes gazed at you, surprised and amused. You were going to die now, and she was laughing in your face. 

“She’ll do,” She said easily, throwing your body at the ground behind her, before wandering off with no sign of injury. Confusion had eaten you until two lean Noxian soldiers had appeared, spears in hand. 

Their touch was uncomfortably gentle, ushering you like a scared dog from the village into an imposing, structured tent. Fear licked at your bones, a fate worse than death settling on you like a thick cloak. Maids with pretty eyes and practised fingers removed your dress and replaced it with a soft red silk slip. Oh. You were a prize, an object like the towering pile of goods in their camp, to be used and discarded. 

It didn’t take long for them to chain you to a small post next to a large, velvet armchair. There you sat, resting on your knees on cold marble. You felt ornamental, your humanity dripped away as you merged with the surroundings. You could only be thankful that it was warm in the tent, for the winter winds howled outside as afternoon beckoned. 

When she entered you refused to look up, muscles tensing. 

“Sulking, are we Dear?” It was honeyed, as fabric dropped to the floor, “I wouldn’t, it was a good hit, if you’d gone up slightly it might have even done something,” 

Your cheeks coloured with frustration. You hated her, hated how small she made you feel, how effortlessly she had crushed you. Worst of all you hated the beauty she wielded. Like a serpent, blinding you with glittering scales as she wound around you, squeezing you till you burst. 

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me now,” She pouted, summoning your eyes instinctively, “There she is, brave warrior,” 

You frowned, “I suppose it’s not enough that I’m here, you have to mock my only agency,” 

Ambessa moved forward leisurely, in only black underwear and a robe, settling into her armchair, “I never mock a bold manoeuvre, little one, no matter how fruitless,” 

She tugged you forward slightly, your head forced to rest on her thigh as she poured a cup of tea. You grunted, staring at the rug between her legs as she intertwined her fingers in your hair. Her touch was kind and repetitive, caressing your locks as she picked up a book and began to read aloud. Adrenaline was drowning you but your anticipation garnered nothing. She stayed like this for hours, muttering to you. The fire and her touch forced you into acknowledging your exhaustion. Occasionally she would offer water, fingers wielding a crystal glass for you. It took five tries for you to accept, your throat aching from dehydration. You were rewarded with a scratch under your chin as her voice continued to wash over you. In another life this would have filled you with contentment and it grated at you. 

Moments later you were being moved again, picked up as though a feather to rest on her silky thighs. The hand she reattached to your head pushed you into the crook of her shoulder, her smell potent and warm. Iron and sweat clashed with spices and sea air, leaving your flagging mind woozy. You couldn’t escape and you had no way of harming her, so sitting in her lap became your only option. 

You hadn’t noticed your fluttering eyelids and heavy breath until your stomach growled, cramping at its emptiness. Her voice stopped immediately as the book slammed shut. Those eyes, now kind, surveyed you. With a melodic ring, a bell to her side beckoned two maids. 

“What do you wish to eat?” Ambessa asked, tucking a strand behind your ear, “I shall share whatever you have,” 

“Pork stew,” You muttered, desire for food and comfort outweighing your doubts. If she’d wanted you dead, you’d be a corpse. 

“A local delicacy, I’m told,” Her words are in your ear, lips practically against them. 

The food arrived faster than you’d thought possible, steaming and hearty in little gold bowls. Your stomach interjected again, eyes wide and desperate. To your immense surprise, she undid your shackles and allowed you to feed yourself. Though you were still anchored to her lap by a strong arm, this newfound freedom caused a rush of joy. The stew was exceptional, though more decadent than you ever would have had it. The chef must have had a heavy hand with the spices, no cares as to their cost, the heat flooding you. Ambessa seemed comforted too, her portion over double yours as you watched in subtle amazement at her appetite. It could have fed a family of four from your village with ease. 

Whatever plans she had for you, it seemed she would not be enacting them tonight. Your silk slip was a nightgown and nothing more, as she moved with you through the tent into an adjoining room with a large, fur covered bed. 

“Now then,” Her hand held your chin, “Shackles for bed tonight, wouldn’t want you wandering off until you’ve proved your loyalty,” 

Loyalty? That’s what she wanted?

The metal felt warmer than before, less weighted as she clasped it shut and bundled you up. Her form slid in next to you, though she mercifully did not insist you touch her. You did not speak, unable to give her the satisfaction after having to tolerate so much, though she wished you a tender goodnight. 

Your sleep was fitful, filled with slashing blades and burning embers. You awoke alone, furs wrapped tight. A slip of parchment was to your left in a sharp hand. 

I shall be away all day, 

There are clothes and some books on my armchair for you.

Mira will see to anything you need, 

A.M.

True to her word, a slight serving girl entered the moment you moved to the main space, trays of food and drink with her. She helped you dress, braided your hair and even undid the shackles. 

“Lady Medarda said this is a show of trust,” Her words were clear, as if dictating from a note, “If you attempt anything, guards will be on you before you can lift a scrap of the tent’s fabric,”

“Lovely,” You grumbled to yourself, “Her trust gives me the ability to lift a glass unaided,”

“If you behave she will bring your medical journals and allow you to sleep without restraint,” She said, a smile on her face. Of course she had predicted you’d complain. 

The book she had read to you yesterday was in the pile and after breakfast you found yourself wanting to learn its conclusion. Warm in the wool trousers and jumper Ambessa had provided you, you sat in the chair and finished it. If Mira had any opinions about you sitting in her Mistress’s chair she did not voice them, and the small rebellion quieted some of the caged panic that rattled in your chest. Her slowness to act just gave you time to think of an escape plan and then you could get away elsewhere 

The sun set quickly, your time wasted with dozing and books as you memorised each corner of the room. Though this was technically a tent, it was secured enough to act as a house, with the only way out being forward which wasn’t a way out at all. Lady Medarda ensured that. 

When Ambessa returned dinner had long since passed, and you had begrudgingly put yourself to bed. The curtain parted and her fatigued face came into view. 

“There you are,” She sighed, “I thought you would have dug a tunnel out of here by now,” 

“Cutlery’s too dull, no doubt a coincidence,” You found yourself quipping, observing the way her mouth creased into a grin. 

“No need for a sharp knife when your meat is tender,” She purred, moving to the other side of the bed and removing her outer clothes, “Did you have a restful day?”

She seemed genuinely interested, and not for the first time you wondered where the wolf had gone. Shifting your tactics in the hopes of softening her, you gave a muffled answer. Mollified, she curled up as she had the night before and fell asleep almost immediately. 

You were gloriously shackleless and yet if you fled now she would probably crush your throat before both feet hit the floor. It was expected this first night, and probably the second, a test of your resolve and patience. The only way to go would be when she genuinely trusted your obedience. 

Ten days and a camp change later you were beginning to lose patience. She was vigilant, but considerate and it left you now windows of opportunity. You weren’t a hardened warrior as she had joked that first day, you were an apothecary with nothing to do but lounge around and be read to by a infamous warlord. You were beginning to feel mad, a life of leisure so roughly thrust upon you. The conditions only improved with the move and her tent now had its own bathroom, a humongous glistening tub calling to you. Ambessa had begun to ask you for opinions on her expansion plans, seemingly wanting to preserve the charm of your land whilst overpowering it with Noxian glamour. WIth your input she kept the old churches and allowed your people to tend to their lands if they swore allegiance to Noxus. 

In a gilded cage, miles away from your home, you weighed the advantages of staying entangled against the bliss of freedom. The guards were becoming more lax, allowing you to wander through parts of the camp and make friends with Mira and the other maids. She had not harmed you, save pulling your hair that first day and you were well provided for. She’d even managed to tug more substantial conversations from you, even when they lacked a business element. You’d told her of your journey to becoming an apothecary, and she had explained the first time wore armour, clattering to the floor mid fight. 

At night, as rain slammed down and the wind chilled your toes, you would gaze longingly at the doorway and then find yourself tugged into warm, firm arms. Much like reading time, you were held and pressed into her, scent dizzying. She smiled, you had noticed, when she cradled you in her sleep. Each time it would wipe the door from your mind as you succumbed to a more contented sleep. Most confusing of all, she was showing no signs of tiring of you as a ‘toy soldier’ as she had affectionately dubbed you. Nobody seemed to understand why you lingered in her space rather than being given your own, perhaps not even her. 

On the thirtieth day things shifted. After dinner, a heavy dress floating around your feet, you slipped back into the tent and were met with breathy, loud moans. Not Medarda’s, though she was clearly the cause. Hidden by the thick curtains, a high female voice begged and cried the warlord’s name, the creaking of your bed audible. 

Your bed. 

Her bed, you corrected grimly, embarrassment sticky in your throat. The noise ceased almost immediately after you had entered, and your feet froze to the ground. A nameless, unknown girl slipped from the bedroom, meeting your gaze with a pleasure struck face. A vapid giggle left her as she slipped past you. 

Ambessa appeared moments later, robe loose around her, with an easy expression. It darkened imperceptibly in your presence, though you felt the subtle chill. 

“I didn’t realise you were back, Warrior,” She muttered, voice heavy, “That wasn’t planned, I-I shall notify you if I intend to use our space like that,”

Our. 

Wait, did she think you’d be jealous?

“How the mighty have fallen,” You scoffed, unable to meet her gaze, “Shouldn’t I be fearing consequences from you, as the captive,” 

“You’re not the one with a new leg scar,” 

Touche. She seemed to hold you on a pedestal for that act alone and you had yet to decipher why. 

It was made clear by the flurry of people that the bedroom was stripped and remade. It calmed you, the faceless woman erased from the space though you and Ambessa lingered. You didn’t care what she did with her love life but you decided you didn’t need to know about it. 

Unfortunately, it was hard to avoid. Trysts, people trying to charm their way into your her bed as you ate at the communal table and several conquests leaving that you had to face the next day. It made your stomach ache, fingers dancing with nervous energy every time she lay next to you, her scent changing every so slightly if she had had company. Almost another month passed with you on tenterhooks, stuck between the safety of your leisure with her and the stain of sin on your sanctuary. 

The worst of all had to be tonight though. You had awoken alone for the first time, colder than ever, when you heard it. Ambessa’s blissful sigh. She was actively being pleasured in her armchair whilst you fucking slept. Through a crack in the curtain you could see tan legs kneeling just as you had that first night, between her thighs with their head on her skin. The notable difference was how they devoured her, pulling dark moans and filthy words from her gravelly voice. It was hard to ignore, her scent drenching you in the bed you shared as she used another’s body. You tried to stifle the noise, covering your ears and burrowing into the bed. This made the scent issue exponentially worse, especially when the mattress dipped and her still sex slicked body curled against your form. Her lips kissed your forehead, the burn of her skin scalding you. 

Her pleasure haunts your dreams, lurking shadows and echoing noise. Close, but just out of reach. For the first time you wake before her, skin muggy and unsettled as you dressed in a robe and wandered into the morning dew. The grass was beginning to have that telltale icy crunch, cracking under your velvet slippers as you slipped out of the camp unnoticed. Your thoughts sit like damp coffee grounds, thick and grainy as you fight the memories of the night before, choking what they make you feel. It was not jealousy, it was anger to be sure.

There was no direction to your wandering. The treeline called to you with its snowy arms reaching high, animals dancing through the dense white landscape. Not too far in the distance there stood a frozen lake and a childish part of you yearned to skate across it, your body moving you unbidden. It was larger up close, iridescent swirls of nature showing the loose water below. It reminded you of how you felt about your life now, about Ambessa. 

Fear and nostalgia sat steadfast as your ice, hardening your resolve and keeping your wit sharp, but beneath was the flow of her. In two short months she had managed to nurture your underfed body and mind, relishing in your rebellion and cherishing your input. The warlord existed so clearly to you, but you could not reconcile her with the reader who brewed you floral tea. One stirred anxiety and the other calm. Picking up shards of ice and flinging them across the lake, you attempted to untangle the Noxian web within you. Sparkles of sunlight grew higher as you stewed, beginning to blind you as you stepped closer to the edge, ice grunting under you. 

“I’m not sure you’re dressed for whatever this is,” Ambessa’s voice rang out, her body leaning against a tree. 

You had sensed her, though her movements were muffled, form tightening. 

“Something troubling you?” 

“Just fancied a walk,” 

“In a robe and slippers?” She snorted, “Some walk indeed,” 

“Did you need something?”

“You, Dear,” She muttered, at your back in an instant, “I woke up alone,” 

Your heart panged oddly, her presence fueling the rushing currents under the ice, as you lent into her warmth. “Here I am,” 

Her cloak engulfed you, dragging you under as her dulcet tones rasped in your ear, “Let’s get you home, Little one,” 

Home.

It occurred to you then as you stumbled back with her that perhaps you hadn’t been a prisoner in a while. Here you stood, free and yet wishing only to return to the warmth she had made for you. 

A bath was drawn and you crawled into it obediently. Her eyes were shut, though she cleaned your hair and muttered to you about her day to come. It was peace. It was bliss. It was your worst nightmare. Cold receded and you allowed yourself to slip into a warm lull. 

She left soon after, leaving behind new pyjamas and a sweetbread. You stayed in bed, as confused and dazed as those first weeks. 

That night you were awoken by the same wanton sounds in the living room and your nostrils flared, fingers crushing the softness of your sheets. Your emotions flopped again. You hated her. She was vile and infuriating and brutal and somehow constantly having fucking sex. 

When Ambessa slid into bed this time, sweet smells of pleasure wafting from her, you let out a growl. 

“DId I wake you?” She muttered, a smile etched on her lips. 

“You don’t touch me like that,” It slipped out, fury and turmoil.

“Pardon?” Her eyes had darkened, observing you curled and tense. 

“W-We do everything else, you treat me as an equal and give me freedom, but you use our space for cheap pleasures whilst I sleep,” 

“I was unaware it was a pro-”

“You don’t touch me like that,” It was a whine now, “Why?”

“You’ve never asked, little warrior,” Her voice was sin, soaking you and tugging you close, “I didn’t realise you were unhappy with me,”

“Please,” You croaked, gripping her forearm weakly, “I-”

Her lips were on yours, firm and rough, her tongue slipping into your mouth. Pretty girl, she thought, delicate and hers. You melted like butter, nuzzling close and stroking her grey curls. She was perfect, and you finally had all of her. Her fingers danced along your silk nightgown, cupping a breast with a firm hand. Leaning forward, she nipped at your neck as skilled hands massaged neglected flesh. You were keening instantly, eyes glossy and lips parted. 

Minutes drained away against her ministrations as your thighs rubbed together, the burn beginning to hurt as she teased your pebbled nipples in her mouth. Your nightgown was wet from her saliva, and the friction of the fabric with her tongue had you rutting against her thigh. Bruises were forming on your neck, your upper body ruined before she’d even undressed you. 

“Please,” It seemed the only word you could remember, puffy mouth slurring it at every opportunity. 

“Again,” She teased, finally ripping your clothes from you, “Louder,”

You pleaded and gasped, each word heightening your arousal, your desperation, as her fingers stroked your folds. She was kind, allowing you the pleasure you yearned for, slicked thumb rubbing circles on your clit as she stretched you slowly. 

Ambessa felt a swell of triumph. It had taken her endless hours of uncharacteristic kindness and stern patience, allowing you to cycle through defiance, anger and acceptance as often as you needed until you finally succumbed. You were drenched and mewling against her, sex drunk eyes stuck to her. It had been fulfilling, breaking you in, just as she had suspected when she caught eyes with a crazed, dirt covered woman with the audacity to wield a blade to her. 

Tugging orgasm after orgasm from you, cunt quivering and tensing as you drooled mindlessly, she relished in her victory. Her power was etched into you now. 

“Silly girl,” She cooed, voice a knife edge, “I knew I could make you mine,”

Her words cut through the tingling fog. You realised, with a dizzying stab, that you had always been her war prize, she just hadn’t conquered you till now. Each tender touch and measured interaction was to break you into her willing little toy and here you were, fucking yourself shamelessly on her thick digits. You would have been more hurt, a flare of resistance kicking in, if it weren’t for the unabashed love and satisfaction in her eyes. Well then, you guess you’d both been played. The mighty warlord may have broken you, reshaping your desires, but she had fallen in love in the process and you would relish that till your dying breath. 

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just use me months ago,” You quipped, starting a slow and methodical worship of her scarred body. 

“You wouldn’t have wanted it, warrior,” She muttered, amused by your acceptance, “I am many things, but I only fuck those who ask,” 

“I want it,” You sucked her nipple, humping her leg as her eyes slammed shut. 

“I know, doll,” Her hands pulled your hair, making you yelp happily, “You soaked my hand like a good girl to prove it,” 

For a moment, as you curled between her legs and began to eat like a woman starved, you wondered if this was the right choice. 

Ambessa let out a noise, confusing to your ears. It was nothing like the others you had heard in her time with others, it was delirious and light, happy pants slipping out as you sucked and fucked her with your tongue. She came quickly, face blank as she suffocated you with her cunt. Her touch, despite it all, was tender. She was yours and you were hers. 

There was nothing more right than that. 

[lyinginmeadow]

Shadows will guide you home | Azriel × reader

Summary: Some fae don't like the idea of the Archerons turning into high fae and reader being one in unfamiliar city makes a perfect opportunity for an intervention Warnings: acotar related violence, not super descriptive, language, slight angst Word count: 1.4k a/n: Hii, this is my very first fanfic, please remember to be kind. <3 Also English is not my first language so it may be a bit rough.

Being another Archeron sister was quite exhausting. The constant comparison drawn between you ever since you were born created a dark place deep within you. After years of being poor, starved, and uneducated, the family regained their riches back thanks to Feyre. The cost left you empty, breaking your heart into a million pieces. You wanted your sister back more than anything, you would return your newfound lifestyle to have her with you again. Taking lessons together, sharing laughs, and pretending as if everything is normal. As if she never left and their father hadn't left them to starvation.

Instead, the Gods were laughing in your face as you with two of your sisters were changed and thrown into the world of high fae. While you got your sister back, there were matters to be taken care of. Leaving you alone in a city and with species foreign to you. You had met the inner circle while you were still human. They were nothing but kind to you then, but you assumed that was because you were Feyre's sister. Now they haven't paid you much mind because their hands were either full with court business you didn't understand or your sisters. You were left scarred inside while pretending it hadn't affected you as much.

''Are you listening?'' Asked a pretty blonde in a red dress, Mor. ''I'm sorry, I just spaced out a little. What were you saying?'' You smiled, red creeping up your cheeks. ''You are free to explore the city, you don't have to feel caged inside.'' She returned your smile. ''Oh, I don't feel like that. I...I guess it's kind of strange to be here. Is there an apothecary around here?''

''Yes, it's in the square just next to the bridge you can’t miss it,'' Mor replied. ''I must go, but I will see you during dinnertime.'' She smiled for the last time as she disappeared into thin air. She came by just to invite you as per Feyre's request. Your sister knew you were too polite to decline any offer and without it you would probably not show up.

''Right.'' You mumbled under your breath as you looked out of the window. In the reflection, you caught the sigh of a shadow. You whipped around to see nothing. Signing, you turned to the window again thinking about certain Illyrian familiar with shadows. When you first met him, he was like a rock that you could lean onto while the queens invaded your home. You talked, feeling an instant connection and thought he felt the same. You didn't remember what happened during the changing process, your brain blocked the memory altogether. But after waking up in Velaris, he didn't seem to notice you, rather seeking the company of your older twin sister.

You knew it wasn't rational to feel hurt by this, but that didn't stop your heart from throbbing. Exhaling a deep breath you went to explore the city as Mor suggested, feeling sick of your little pity party.

After hours spent in the city, it was starting to get dark. Nights here were magical, but your fear of them only amplified during years spent in the dark streets trying to provide for your family by any means necessary, so you tried to hurry back to the house. Taking a turn into an ally wasn't a choice you wanted to make, but panic started to take over every action your body made. Looking around you knew you were lost and didn't know where to go next.

''Looking for something?'' You whipped around with shock in your eyes. ''No, but thank you. My partner is just around the corner.'' You smiled politely your instincts kicking in as you lied smoothly. A shadow caressed your skin as if to soothe your worries and disappeared. You didn't have time to think about it more as the man standing in front of you stepped closer. ''Are you sure? We could help you, Y/N.'' Another dark figure from behind you said so near you could feel his breath on your neck. ''I don't know who you think I am, but that is not my name. And I do not need help from strangers. So let me pass.'' You tried to will your voice not to tremble, but it was of no use. You were starting to give in to the panic rising within you. ''And we don't need humans becoming high fae and hijacking our court. But here you are.'' Said a male in front of you while pulling out a knife. “This will send the message." Continued another one next to what you pressumed was the leader. One againts three were not the odds you prefered.

You had no idea how they found out your name or how they knew of your fate of becoming fae. "Feeling threatened by a female?" You knew getting a rise out of them was not the smartest idea. But maybe it could gain you valuable time for someone, anyone to notice. Velaris was supposed to be peaceful after all.

"You think you're funny, huh? We'll see if you'll find the knife just as entertaining." The male behind you pulled your hair harshly earning a scream from you. You didn't understand how they could blame you for something you had no control over. “Watch the alley, will you?” The male infront of you ordered the one standing next to him as he lifted his hand to your face. The knife danced lightly on your cheek leaving you defenseless. "Just so you know, maiming your face will be a pleasure." He whispered to your ear as he increased the presure on the knife drawing blood.

The whole alley turned pitch black. You had fae senses, but the dark was completely impenetrable yet familiar. You could only feel your hair being released, knife falling to the pavement, followed by screams and scratches on the stone. You were paralyzed, terrified, and unable to move. The dark had you in its claws and you could feel your breath getting more and more quick. ''How dare you hurt her ?'' A deep familiar voice took you out of your panic. There was no answer to his question. Only whimpers.

The shadows slowly dissolved letting in light from the main streets. There was no one here anymore. Only blood and scratches deep in the stone indicated a struggle.

Azriel appeared in front of you his hands gently grazing your untouched cheek. ''Don't look at it.'' His voice hoarse. You inhaled his scent making you instantly relaxed. ''Are you hurt?'' He asked worry lacing his voice. You gave him a shake of a head not trusting your voice. ''Lies. Shaken. Blood.'' Hissed hushed voice, startling you. ''I am not lying. I am just fine.'' You pushed Azriel away looking around for the source. ''You can hear them?'' Azriel frowned examining you.

''Look, I am sorry you had to bother with this. I know there are a lot of things to be done and I should have known how to protect myself-'' He stopped you from rambling with a thumb to your lips. His previous question forgotten. ''No one has a right to assault you. It is not your fault. Velaris is supposed to be safe. I promise that no one will harm you ever again.'' He left you completely stunned. ''Now, could you please show me where they hurt you, so we can heal it?'' Azriel asked slowly removing his thumb from your lips. Leaving you wishing it could stay there for a bit longer. You pushed back the hair that was covering your healing cheek. ''It's already healing. My abilities do come with very fast healing. As long as I don't use my powers much. I am just a bit shocked, that's all.'' You admitted looking to the stone path. ''Let's get you home then." He offered his hand which you gladly took your heart threatening to jump out of your chest.

''Look, Nesta started training with Cass and a few priestesses joined her. It is a way for them to regain their power and help them with their struggles. I was thinking that maybe it could be something you would give a try?'' Azriel asked as he led you through the house to your bedroom. ''Oh...I think I would like that.'' You smiled. Silence enveloping you again.

''Thank you, Az. For today and the offer.'' You looked down standing infront of the door to your bedroom. ''There is no need to thank me. But you should get some sleep.'' He looked at your door and then down the hallway. ''I will be right next to your room if you need anything. So please, let me know.'' He gave you a look of urgency and you gave him a nod even if you knew you would not. He probably knew it, too. ''Goodnight.''

"Goodnight."

[harknessxo]

Okay I may sound insane but could I request a one shot or short story whatever you are more comfortable writing. The premises behind the story is the reader is an apothecary witch from Agatha’s past. Agatha has asked her to join them in walking the road as well as the others. She reluctantly agreed but not without attitude. The problem with going on this journey at least for the reader is that she’s not just a scorn witch from Agatha‘s past, but one that she would have considered a friend along time ago. Agatha would always come to her in order to be healed or for a remedy due to whatever difficult situation she got herself into overtime. They grew closer together, but Agatha made it apparent that she wasn’t capable of the type of relationship the reader was wanting from her. Not to the readers knowledge, but because of everything that had happened between her and Rio.

How the story starts is that they are currently on the road after completing the second trial in the studio and healing teen from his injury . At the campfire while all the different witches are trading their battle stories you listen to Agatha speak and then Rio. Somewhat connecting the dots on your own, but not fully believing it, not until you follow them both and watch the scene that unfolds between them in the fourth episode. It’s then that the reader realizes that maybe Agatha was always capable of feeling that type of emotional vulnerability but the reader just wasn’t worth it. How it ends is really up to you. It could be somehow Agatha figured out that the reader was spying on them and then fixes it in a sweet way to show that the reader is worth it. or it could be Agatha completely denying any change between her and Rio that she was only using manipulation tactics to see if teen was her son, a mix of both. I’m not picky.

Once again, if this is too insane, please ignore it. I do understand it’s completely random, but I do love your writing style and do you think you would do it absolute justice!!!!

THE GREATEST

Paring: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: look at the request ^

Warnings; angst…

Word Count: 2.0k

Part 2

A/n: I hope you like this anon! I know you lowkey wanted a happy ending but angst took over. I’m open to making a part two if you’d like! Also this originally had nothing to do with the song “The Greatest” but then I added a part of the lyrics so…

“Jen! Y/n! Do something please!” Agatha pleaded, holding Teen’s hand tightly. You and Jennifer looked at each other, trying to figure out something that would heal his wound and help him survive. You both quickly made a substance and spread it over his wound. He groaned in pain but the wound healed and he continued to sleep. You all gently picked him up and placed him in a better place to rest. Agatha stayed by his side, refusing to leave and the rest of you went to make a bonfire.

You sat down around the fire for an awkward moment before Alice chose to speak up to start a conversation. She shared her experience with her curse and her scars and soon everyone told their experiences except Rio. You didn’t like her from the second she dug herself out of the ground. You could tell there was immense tension between her and Agatha and you detested it.

“How is he?” Alice’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked up and saw Agatha taking a seat next to Rio.

“Mouthy,” she replied sarcastically.

“That’s a good sign,” Lilia commented.

“Agatha,” Jen started, “Why don’t you show us your battle scars?” Agatha hesitated for a moment before she started rolling up the sleeve of her left arm. Your eyes diverted to Rio who chuckled while she gave Agatha a knowing look.

“Knitting needle to the elbow,” she said, showing off the scar on her elbow, “You ever heard of the daughters of liberty?” of course you knew of them, you were the one that healed said scar but the rest shook their heads having no idea, “Exactly.” All the witches chuckled her light joke and you could tell Agatha enjoyed it. The joyful moment suddenly came to a stop when Rio decided to speak up.

“I’ve got a scar.” All eyes turned to Rio as she spoke. Agatha’s expression changed, her face becoming serious and a bit irritated.

“No you don’t,” Agatha was quick to deny. How would she know that? You thought.

“Yes I do,” she insisted, “…A long time ago, I loved someone,” she side eyed Agatha, “…and I had to do something I did not want to do even though it was my job,” she emphasized the last word and you saw Agatha looked away from the corner of your eye. She clenched her jaw, her eyes fixed elsewhere. The other witches exchanged glances, sensing the tension between the two. Rio continued to speak.

“And it hurt them,” there was a pause, “…she’s my scar.” It wasn’t hard to figure out who she was talking about and it angered you even further. Why did Agatha lie to you? Were they still together when you fell in love? Were you just not enough?

“I’m gonna go stretch my legs,” Agatha said standing and walking away, Rio hot on her trail. Curiosity got the better of you and decided to follow them, the worst decision you could have made.

You watched their interaction, the hug, the loving look, and before their lips touched you walked away. You had seen enough. You fought with every bone in your body trying to keep your sobs at bay. You felt so betrayed but you shouldn’t. Agatha had made it crystal clear that she couldn’t pursue a commitment relationship with you like you wanted. That she wouldn’t. It hurt to hear but maybe it was for the best, especially if she was still messing around with Rio.

You made your way back to the campfire, trying to hide the tears in your eyes. The others looked at you, noticing the change in your demeanor.

“Are you alright?” Lilia asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I’m f-fine,” your voice cracked a bit, “That last trial just had me a little shaken, that’s all.” Alice frowned and shifted closer to you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Mhm…” You gave her a reassuring smile before sitting back down by the fire. Alice didn’t seem convinced but didn’t press further. The others exchanged glances, clearly worried about you but they didn’t say anything. Soon Agatha came back taking a seat next to you with no trace of Rio but you remained silent. Agatha looked at you, noticing your lack of response. She was oblivious to the facts that you had seen her with Rio.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” You didn’t reply and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. She gently placed her hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged her hand off. She was taken aback by your cold response. She was used to you being more open and warm, not this.

“Bullshit,” she said firmly, crossing her arms.

“It’s not like you would fucking care,” you spat out, getting up and walking away. She wanted to go after you but Rio appeared and held her back.

“Let her cool off. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She said into Agatha’s ear.

“Yeah…maybe you’re right.”

—

After everyone was rested, you all continued to walk the road onto the next trial. Usually you would have stayed by Agatha's side but you chose to stay with Lilia and Alice this time. You thought Agatha hadn't noticed, too deep in a conversation with Rio but she did and she was not happy at all.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed as she watched you walk with Lilia and Alice. She tried to keep her cool, but the sight of you ignoring her and choosing to stay away from her made her feel frustrated and angry. She couldn’t understand why you were acting this way and why you were avoiding her. Her fist balled up tightly when she saw you laughing with Alice. Rio noticed Agatha’s reaction and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Calm down, sweetheart. You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”

“I just don’t understand what happened!” Agatha said, frustrated. Rio rolled her eyes before cupping Agatha’s face, making her look at her.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s probably just throwing a tantrum.” Agatha’s face was filled with irritation as she listened to Rio’s words.

“Tantrum? She’s never like this! I’ve never seen her this upset before, she’s avoiding me, she’s acting like a brat.”

“Relax, Agatha,” she kissed her cheek, “Just focus on me.” Her irritation slowly melted away as Rio kissed her cheek. She looked at her and took a deep breath, trying to push her worries about you to the back of her mind.

“You’re right,” she said, forcing a smile. She needed to keep Rio happy for now, just until they got to the end of the road.

Your eyes had wandered to the two women at some point and you regretted it immediately, seeing Rio kiss Agatha’s cheek. Rio looked in your direction while doing it with a smirk on her face. You wanted to lounge at her but for what? For Agatha? She didn’t want you anyway, you just had to come to peace with that.

Rio caught your eye and noticed the hurt and jealousy in your expression. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She knew she was getting to you, and that only made her more determined to keep Agatha away from you.

You all eventually found the next trial inside another house. You all split up into pairs to find some sort of clue. Alice and Teen, Jen and Lilia and of course, Agatha and Rio. Lilia offered to go with you but you declined and said you could take care of yourself if something happened.

She had looked at you with concern but respected your decision. She nodded and went off with Jen to search the house. You were left alone, walking through the house and looking for clues. You could hear the others calling out to each other as they searched different rooms. Suddenly, you heard footsteps approaching you and you already knew who it was.

“Agatha, shouldn’t you be with Rio?” She appeared from behind you, her expression serious.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“You seemed busy with Rio, that’s all.”

“You saw that…” she said, realizing what you were referring to.

“Yeah. You know, I thought you said you couldn’t pursue the type of relationship I wanted from you. Now I know you simply wouldn’t do it, with me at least. Why don’t you go back to your precious green witch. I’m sure she’s already missing you.” Agatha’s expression softened and she looked hurt by your words.

“It’s not like that…”

“Please,” you laughed, shaking your head, “Save it. I literally saw you two about to kiss.”

“You don’t understand…” she stepped closer.

“Agatha, what is there to understand? You lied to me. You said your heart was jaded and then I find out you have an ex lover who you seem to still be in love with.”

“Don’t act like you know everything. You don’t understand the situation between Rio and me.” Her eyes flashed with irritation.

“Then lay it out for me Harkness!” She clenched her jaw, her hands balling into fists. She took a deep breath before speaking.

“Rio and I…we have a complicated history. We were together a long time ago, and it didn’t end well. We had a falling out and we haven’t spoken in years. Seeing her again has brought up a lot of old feelings and emotions that I didn’t know how to deal with.”

“…do you love her?”

“No, of course not-” she said without hesitation.

“Then what’s the deal? Does she know that? Because she seems to know the effect you two have on me.”

“My sweet Y/n,” she cupped your face, “I just need her and the rest of the witches to get me to the end and then you and I can be together-”

“It’s not that simple Agatha,” you shoved her off, finally letting the tears fall, “I don’t even know if I can trust you. And what of her, huh? You’re just gonna leave her hanging? How do I know you won’t do the same with me? How do I know you’re not just using me?!”

“I’m not using you! I care about you, Y/n. You have to believe me.” She reached out to touch you but stopped herself.

“How can I?! You have a reputation, Agatha!” Her face fell, hurt by your words.

“You don’t trust me because of my reputation? I thought you knew me better than that…”

“So did I...” your voice broke at the end. She was speechless. She knew you were right. She had hurt you, and now you didn’t trust her. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.*

“I…I don’t know what to say…”

“Then don’t say anything,” you tried to walk past her but she quickly grabbed your arm, stopping you from walking away.

“Please, don’t go. We need to talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about? You’ve made your choice and it clearly isn’t me.”

“That’s not true! I do care about you. I just…I don’t know what to do. Seeing Rio again has brought up all these memories and feelings that I thought I buried a long time ago. I don’t know how to handle it all.”

“Then come back once you’ve figured it out,” you roughly freed yourself from her grip and walked away to find Lilia and Jen. You didn’t want to walk away. You wanted to cling to her but you couldn’t get yourself into a situation where you would eventually get hurt…again.

Agatha watched you walk away, her heart breaking. She wanted to call out to you, to beg you to stay, but she knew she had messed up. She felt a mix of guilt and regret, knowing that she had hurt you deeply. She sank to the ground, her head in her hands. She replayed the argument over and over in her head, regretting every word she said. She wanted to make things right with you, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy. As much as she cared about you, she couldn’t deny the history she had with Rio. She was at a crossroads, torn between two people who both meant something to her.

Taglist; @oh-no-bummer @wandasreallover @polaris-likethestar

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[lavendermin]

Drunk Jing Yuan doing something to my brain cause imagine when he was still a lieutenant (around young adult and still reach HCQ era I believe) but imagine how loose he is compared to our current general, he certainly have a different tolerance effect

Young lieutenant jing yuan who is getting a little too drunk and is blindly letting his heart slip past infatuation. Living life too fast, too foolishly, with a heart almost freshly squeezed of its naïveté.

When he’s drunk he thinks he could be in love. You’d be the perfect victim—so kind and trustworthy. The idea of having a tender little romance with an elder healer’s apprentice is tantalizing indeed.

You haven’t drank all night despite being generously dragged along by your master to a friendly gathering of prominent figures. And though Jing Yuan is familiar with these faces, it’s clear you are not.

cw | alcohol, fluff

Alcohol or not, he can’t bear to see you look so uncomfortable—like a lost little lamb. When you excuse yourself quietly to take a quick walk around the gardens, he follows suit. The false moons are high in the Luofu’s sky, listening to your quiet woes beside sleeping blooms.

Though the alcohol is prominent in his system, his footing is steady as he makes his way to you sitting by a small pond.

“Sit.” Your command catches him a little off guard. “Before you make yourself a fool if you fall in the water.”

“Not the most common greeting I’ve had the pleasure of receiving, but it’s not distasteful,” Jing Yuan chuckles as he takes a seat next to you.

Your eyes widen, a deep-set panic quickly flashing in different stages on your features.

“L-Lieutenant– I wasn’t aware it was you, I swear!”

“Quite alright. And you’d be right. I am quite drunk, I’ll admit.”

There’s still hesitation, given your rigid posture in his presence. It’s sweet how hard you try to please, but these small cracks in your front are all the more endearing. Some sense of a more natural you.

You sigh, something bone-deep and exhausted. “Apologies, lieutenant. I’m just quite used to the strong smell of alcohol from the many that stop by the apothecary for remedies in the morning after a night of reckless drinking. Master is no different. I meant no offense I just… thought it was master coming for that same remedy as well.”

He laughs at this, a little too loose as the alcohol begins to work its way through his system. Everything moves so quickly and you seem so far away despite being right next to him.

“Quite impressive for the elder healer to depend on his apprentice for such important remedies,” he complements. It makes your hands fidget in your lap, clearly not used to the attention. Always working from the shadows.

“It’s really nothing spectacular. You’re much too kind.” He makes you nervous. In a good way.

It’s so easy for him to want more of you. A splendid respite.

He’s sure he’s smiling stupidly at you, his head resting on his palm as he sits rather lax. The alcohol bids him not to care.

“I’m quite fond of you, if you’ve noticed,” he admits quietly. A bit too forward as the drinks begin to talk.

His words make your face burn hot.

“Surely you’ve had far too much to drink,” you squeak as he slumps against you. Warm and much, much bigger than you. Your hand is immediately on his face, cool and soft where the alcohol warms his cheeks. “How much did you have? Come, quickly. I’ll prepare you a remedy. What if you have alcohol poisoning? Can you walk?”

Jing Yuan follows obediently as you drag him by the arm, walking perfectly fine as you fuss over whether he feels like he may pass out or worse.

“Sit, please,” you motion to the small bench by your bedside.

“Quite the prepared one, aren’t you,” he comments as he watches you quickly run to and fro gathering the ingredients you packed for this small trip. The room is only slightly spinning.

You’re rambling and giving a light scolding, deep in concentration, when he quickly pulls you by the waist. Close. Too close.

Your breath is in your throat, heart beating loudly in your ears. “Lieutenant, you shouldn’t be standing. You need to–”

Before you can finish, his finger is gently on your lips to quiet your nerves. A gentle thing as he sways you both subtly in his hold, your body slowly releasing tension.

“This will pass. What I need,” he presses a chaste kiss upon your temple, “is you.”

[phoward89]

Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

There will be 2 different endings- 1 for Crassus & 1 for Coriolanus- posted after this as 2 additional chapters

Masterlist

Part 2:

Your mother was fuming as she sat next to Crassus in the large auditorium, watching your Academy graduation. Helenium couldn't help, but to give him a nasty side-eye. The way he looked at you during prom night when she was invited to the Snows’ penthouse, for pictures and to see both you and Coriolanus off, made her stomach churn. Your mother knew the only reason Crassus was lustfully looking at you was because you favored her so much when she was younger.

When your mother was your age she met a pair of Peacekeepers in her native District 12 while she worked at the apothecary as an assistant. She met Crassus Snow and Javani Halvir, friends and military brats. But, despite Crassus' endless pursuit (which was more like stalking and gaslighting) your mother fell in love with your father, Javani Halvir. And once your father passed his officer’s test he married your mother.

It was the life event that made General Crassus Snow a real cold, bitter, rat bastard. Oh, he was always cunning and overbearing with questionable morals, but his heart and soul truly began to rot once he was jilted by Helenium.

And now Crassus is pushing whatever lingering feelings he has for your mother onto you. It makes your mother sick to her stomach as she watches how happy you look sitting next to Coriolanus on the large platform set up on the auditorium stage, right behind the podium Dean Casca Highbottom was standing at in order to perform the commencement.

Your mother prays to the gods that Crassus leaves you and his son be.

Yes, your mother was never very fond of Coriolanus while you were growing up, but that was due to fear of him turning out like his father since he’s his mirror image. She wished that you would've had more friends, met another boy to fall for too. But after seeing you and Coriolanus posing for prom pictures and watching him dote on you while putting on your corsage and paying you compliment after compliment- well…your mother realizes that you're Coriolanus’ world. That he has some deep feelings for you.

And she'd rather have you with the younger Snow than the older one.

Helenium was shaken out of her thoughts by Crassus' deep, stern voice telling her, “It's such a shame your son couldn't acquire leave to attend his sister's graduation.”

Grandma'am Snow watched the commencement, completely unaware of the hushed conversation your mother was engaging in with her son. Her granddaughter, Crassus' niece named Tigris, was on the other side of her and was also too invested in the graduation ceremony then to eavesdrop on her uncle, who she was afraid of.

“Yes, well, his girl couldn't get clearance to travel so he pulled his request.” Your mother told Crassus, in a way letting him know that your brother picked his girl over your event.

“He's like his father, settling with a local district girl.” The Snow patriarch thickly scoffed.

“If I remember correctly, you were a bit star struck by a local district girl once.” Your mother reminded General Snow of how he had once loved her. That he was just as bad as Javani, as Rein, when it came to district women.

Crassus' face turned to stone and his icy blue eyes turned into frozen icicles. His voice was deep and bitter as he snarled, “Yes, well, she made me look weak and stupid by eloping with my comrade.”

Looking between you and Coriolanus sitting together, smiling while whispering happily, and the hateful General next to her, your mother pleaded, “Leave them alone, Crassus. Please, just let my daughter and your son be happy. She doesn't realize it yet, but she loves Coriolanus and it's no secret that he loves her too.”

“I've arranged for my son to be sent off to serve as a peacekeeper. He'll be getting his conscription letter in the mail soon.”

“You rotten rat bastard. Those kids don't even know, do they?” Helenium asked, even tho she was sure that you and Coryo had no clue about what his heartless father was doing to your lives. How he was meddling; for the worse.

The middle-aged man shook his platinum blonde head. “No, they don't.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes while whisper-hissing, “You're going straight to the 9th circle of hell for this, you treacherous bastard.”

“I don't believe in the hells or the gods, petal.” Of course he didn't. Anything other than his own wants and needs didn't exist. Screw energy and spiritualism; it's not real in Crassus' book.

A cruel look crossed over Crassus' handsome face as he told your mother the hard to swallow truth of, “But what I do believe in is success and being the best. You're daughter's my second chance at love and happiness; if I have to get my son out of the way then so be it.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to help those two kids be together, Crassus.”

“I advise you not to if you want to keep breathing.”

“Are you threatening me?” Your mother asked right as Coriolanus Snow took his place at the podium to give his Valedictorian speech.

“It's not a threat, but a promise.” General Snow informed your mother while trying not to roll his baby blue eyes at his son's speech.

Crassus felt his son's speech was lacking something. That it wasn't very lively despite Coriolanus being a charming young man and a very eloquent public speaker. Maybe Crassus feels his son's speech isn't too far because he doesn't like him?

“You wouldn't dare hurt me. You've been holding a flame for too long.” Your mother stated, a bit over confidently, instead of listening to the valedictorian speech. “And mark my words, I'm going to tell those kids all of your plans because the thought that you'd make your own son a miserable, heartbroken mess just so you can defile and corrupt my daughter's sick.”

Grandma'am patted Crassus' arm and proudly smiled. “Oh, Crassus, isn’t Coriolanus’ speech just marvelous.”

“If you say so, mother.” Crassus curtly tells his mother while flashing her a fake smile.

Crassus was a real cad. A cunning, calculating, cad. He knew that your mother would be an obstacle when it comes to wooing you. She proved to be too unpredictable tonight. An ally to his son, which surprised him since Helenium always hated the boy. But maybe her hatred for him ran deeper than her hatred for his sniveling brat of a son?

So, he decided to poison her while the Halvir and Snow families are out for dinner celebrating you and Coriolanus’ graduation. It was quite easy to get your mother a glass of poisoned wine. Perhaps too easy since Crassus has spies and henchmen all over Capitol City.

He even has loyal men planted right under President Ravenstill’s nose in the Presidential Mansion.

Your poor mother, bless her heart, didn't expect a thing. She was sitting in between Grandma'am and Tigris while you were sitting between Crassus and Coriolanus. Tigris was at Coriolanus side and Grandma'am was at Crassus’ side since the table was a large round one right in the middle of the dining room of a fancy Capitol restaurant.

Everything was going just fine. Everyone was eating and making small talk. Your mother was actually making an effort to be nice to Coriolanus and to talk to him, which both confused you and made you happy.

“So, do you two have any plans for the summer?” Your mother asked, reaching for her wine glass, which unknown to her was filled with a medium acting poison that would have her dropping dead before dessert was served.

“We're just going to hang out like we always do.” You told your mother, causing her to just nod.

“She'll probably stay a night or so, since it's summer.” Coriolanus added in as a sly way to announce your relationship. A relationship that you didn't even realize existed.

“I'm sure they won't be together the entire summer, Helenium.” Was Crassus' off handed remark as he ate his steak.

It was also the last remark made at your table to your mother while she was still breathing.

Yea…

Before anything else could be said, your mother dropped her wine glass, causing it to shatter and the poisonous wine to splatter and stain the white table linen, and started wheezing.

“Mother! Are you alright?” You ask, alarmed that your mother's suddenly choking, wheezing for air, and clawing at her throat.

Grandma'am and Tigris are frozen in their seats, tears beginning to fall from their eyes as their faces portray pure horror.

Coryo’s holding you while frantically screaming, “Help! We need help, she's choking!”

The other patrons of the restaurant are screaming and crying, or just staring in shock and awe. But at least a dozen people are screaming for help. And the restaurant staff are scrambling to call the authorities, doctors, etc.

Crassus on the other hand doesn't look bothered. Well…considering he's the reason you're mother's dying before your eyes of course he's not bothered by it, but you don't know that. Crassus, being a cold hearted bastard, just continues eating his filet mignon.

Cutting a piece of his steak, he looks at his son and rolls his eyes at him. How can Coriolanus be fit to have you when he's screaming his head off like he's scared out of his wits. Holding you and comforting you; making you feel safe are two different things.

Deciding that you need a real man to assure you that everything’ll be alright, Crassus puts down his fork and wraps his large hand around yours. A hand that's actually the same size as his son's.

“I've seen this before during the war. Rebels would poison Capitol loyalists.” Crassus said matter-of-factly.

“Are you saying somebody meant to poison you and accidentally poisoned my mother?!” You screeched on top of your lungs. You couldn't believe what you're hearing.

“I'm afraid so, petal.” Crassus solemnly nods while giving your hand a tight squeeze.

“It'll be okay, my darling. I'm here; you got me.” Coryo assured you, his baby blues the size of saucers, as he watched EMT-Peacekeepers rush over to the table to take your mother away.

But sadly she'd be a D.O.A at the hospital.

You went home with the Snows to their penthouse the night your mother died and you never left. Crassus gave you Tigris’ old room (she moved out a couple years ago when she opened up her own boutique) to use. But as soon as it was lights out and everyone went to bed, Coryo snuck you into his room; into his bed.

Coryo held you, kissed you, and assured you that everything would be alright. That you had him; that he'd always be by your side. The night of your mother's death, you cried yourself to sleep in Coryo's arms.

And the nights leading up to the day of her funeral were spent in Coryo's arms as well. The tears came and went sporadically, but his caresses and kisses never ceased. He freely gave you comfort.

And he promised to be with you, always.

The day of your mother's funeral was very somber. It was a large event, thanks to General Crassus Snow footing the bill and taking care of the arrangements. It was held in a large cathedral in Capitol City. One that was older than the city itself. General Snow spares no expense for your mother, claiming it was only right to send her off properly as the window of war hero Colonel Javani Halvir.

The service, performed by Dr. Gaul, the Head Gamemaker and Head of the War Department- also a close ally and mentor of General Snow, performed the service’s parting words for your mother. General Snow had given a eulogy with your mother, making her sound like a sweeter and livelier person then she was.

Your brother wasn't able to obtain leave so quickly, but he did talk to you on the phone. He also talked to Crassus on the phone and they came to an understanding about your living arrangements. That you'd stay in the Capitol under the Snows' care in order to attend the University. But once you graduated you could decide whether you wanted to stay in Capitol City or move onto PK Base-D12, where your brother lives as Officer Rein Halvir.

The ride to the gravesite to see your mother's casket get lowered into a 6ft hole was very hard. During that part of the funeral you're seated in between Crassus and Coriolanus Snow. Both father and son seemed determined to comfort you. Coriolanus held you close, not caring how it made him look, while Crassus patted your hand before resting his large and on top of yours.

Dean Casca Highbottom, who was sitting on the other side of the casket; across from you and the Snow family, saw how father and son are going for you. The morphling addict pities you. Truly he does. Because he doesn't know what Snow's worse, the father who's evil reincarnated on earth or the son who's literally the spawn of Satan. All Dean Highbottom knows is that you're going to get stuck falling for one of the Snow men due to charming smiles and lies.

Casca Highbottom always thought of you as a bright student; an amazing girl, and he wishes you nothing, but the best. Even tho deep in his bones he knows that you'll never get the best in life; will never be able to live up to your full potential.

The after funeral gather’s held in the large, luxurious Snow penthouse. People flitter about, giving you condolences and dropping off casseroles, fried chicken, and jello molds (some old superstition from the old days; the Pre-Panem days that women still honor) so that you and the Snows won't starve while in mourning.

You're sitting on the sofa, between Coryo and Grandma’am. Crassus greets everyone at the door and makes his niece, Tigris, help the cook take the food offerings into the kitchen.

You give sad smiles to everyone that approaches the sofa, preferring to let either Grandma’am Snow or Coryo do the talking for you. In fact, you feel so overwhelmed by all of these strangers offering condolences about your mother's death. People that knew your father, that know Crassus, and want to pay their respects to the wife of a late war hero: Colonel Javani Halvir. It was all so impersonal; you didn't know how to handle it. How to feel about it.

So, you left the pleasantries to the two Snow's you’re wedged between. Grandma'am was a refined lady that knew how to politely hold such conversations about condolences and Coryo was a charmer, he'd be able to say the right thing to all of these strangers acting like they're doing you a favor by telling you that they're sorry about your mother's death.

But then when Dean Casca Highbottom entered the Snow penthouse, he greeted his old friend curtly and asked him for a word- in private.

Crassus called for Tigris, the daughter of his late younger brother Cadmus, to greet the well wishers and mourners before humoring his old friend by escorting him to his private study.

Casca entered the study first and then Crassus followed behind him. Closing the door and making his way to the wingback chairs near the mahogany desk, Crassus asks, “What do you need to talk to me about, old friend?”

“Please, Crassus, you don't need to put on the fake pleasantries with me.” Casca told the tall and imposing General as they took their respective seats. “We haven't been friends since you turned in our drunken joke as our class project: resulting in the Hunger Games.” The Academy’s Dean reminded Crassus of the reason for their falling out.

“You overreacted about that back then and you're a fool for still holding a grudge against me for it. The Hunger Games got us a passing grade, didn't it.”

“But it also gave Dr. Gaul a blueprint for the Hunger Games that have been running for the past decade. Games that people lost interest in until your son made it a horse and pony show.”

“Well, Coriolanus didn't do that great of a job as a mentor in the games considering all of the tributes were killed by those rainbow snakes.” Crassus dryly remarked, reminding Casca of the failed games. Leaning his arm on his armrest and placing his chin onto his fist, Crassus asked, “I know you didn't want to speak to me about the games, Casca. So, what do you need to speak to me about?”

“I see how you seem to be infatuated with Miss Y/N, but she seems to be close to your son. I'm just worried that she'll find herself in the middle of something she can't handle and, since I truly believe she's a sweet girl, I'd hate for her to fall victim to a Snow’s cold, callous, heartless ways.”

“So, what? You want me to throw the poor girl out on the street? She's an orphan and my son's closest friend, what type of man would I be if I threw her out?”

“I know you, Crassus. You're not letting the daughter of Javani and Helenium Halvir stay with you because of Coriolanus and the goodness in your heart. You have no heart; you just want that girl all to yourself because you couldn't have her mother 20-odd years ago.”

“Don't presume to know my intentions, Casca. And if something were to come about between me and Miss Y/N then so be it- we're both adults.”

“You're an evil man, Crassus.” Casca scowled. Shaking his head, he voiced his unwanted opinion with, “I fear your son's going to end up as evil as you. That no matter who Miss Y/N ends up with, I'm afraid that sweet girl’s going to be tainted and corrupted by the beautiful, but cold Snow.”

“Casca, my old friend, my son isn't fit to polish my boots." Crassus cackled, dismissing his son's importance. A cruel smirk crosses over his full lips. "I hope some time serving in the Peacekeepers toughens him up, but he'll never be the strong man that Miss Y/N needs in her life, especially during her trying time.”

“You always were a cutthroat best friend. Stole my drunken idea, but stealing Javani’s orphan daughter for your own twisted purpose is despicable." Casca spat. Oh, how the head of the Academy hated his boyhood friend. "Thank the gods your best friend from the Peacekeepers is dead, because I'm sure he'd kill you for what you're planning to do to his only daughter.”

“Yes, well, he's been rotting in the ground with worms eating his flesh.” Crassus coldly said with a hint of mockery in his deep voice. Tipping his chin up cockily, the war hero of the dark days have his old friend and classmate a veiled threat of, “I do hope that you keep your conversation between us, Casca. I'd hate for your young daughter to lose her father- after all didn't your wife run off years ago? Be such a shame for your young daughter to get out in a government run group home.”

Casca’s not surprised that Crassus is threatening to off him and send his daughter to a deplorable group home for orphans and abandoned children.

“Don't worry, old friend, I'll keep your dirty deeds secret; under lock and key to just had to the immoral sins eating away at my soul.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you'll just have to up your daily dose of morphling to live with your bleeding heart.” Crassus scoffed. Standing up, he suggested, “I think it's time you paid your respects to Miss Y/N and leave. I'm sure you don't want your daughter in the hands of the nanny for too long.”

“Yes, I agree.” Dean Casca nodded. Standing up and making his way to the door, he told Crassus, “I'll be brief while giving my respects to Miss Y/N.”

And Dean Casca Highbottom was brief with paying his respects. He told you that your mother was such a strong woman and tried her best to raise you without the taint and cruelty of the world; that she tried to make sure the bitter frostiness of the Snow didn't give you frostbite. He also looked between you and Coriolanus only to shake his head and sigh, “Young Snow, I think when it comes to you Snow's falling.” Then he left the Snows’ penthouse.

Grandma'am wasn't around for the odd exchange between Dean Highbottom, Coriolanus, and you. Instead the old woman was talking to the neighbor Pluribus Bell about something.

“What do you think he meant by that, Coryo?” You wondered, looking at your best friend with curious eyes, as the Dean's parting words hung heavy in the air, like a toxic smog.

“I don't know, but I wouldn't pay too much attention to Dean High-as-a-kite-bottom, baby. He's never liked me much.” Coryo told you as he spotted a new group of well wishers heading towards the two of you. “We're done with the Academy and him, let's just focus on getting thru receiving well wishes from all the mourners, yea?”

“Yea.” You nod, a sad smile on your lips.

You're grateful for the Snow's, for their support during your time of need. But what you don't know is that within a few weeks you'll be parted from your best friend when his conscription letter for the Peacekeepers arrives; that you'll be around General Snow day in and day out.

That you'll have to make a choice between father and son. You can only have one Snow, but who will it be? Crassus or Coriolanus?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[archangeldyke-all]

in my mind sev is such a bookworm so what about her and a reader who’s a baker and they live in the apartment above this really cute bookshop/bakery/cafe that they run and it’s like really cute and really gay and like i can see sev getting so excited whenever someone buys a book she likes and like youve got to stop her from spoiling the whole plot to the poor customer and she so steals all the pastries and cookies and cakes like no sev that’s for the cafe tomorrow and idk how bookshops work but i’d imagine they get books shipped in a few days before they release so they can stock them on release day so sevvy would be so excited to get to read whatever sequel or new book she’s looking forward to early idk this idea just feels really cute to me

just so fucking cute.

men and minors dni

sevika really tries to hate you.

when you move in to the vacant store next to hers and open your bakery, (when you move into the apartment next to hers upstairs) sevika decides on night one that she's going to hate you.

because, unlike a bookstore owner who can flop out of bed and open the store in her pajamas at ten, a baker has to be up at the crack of dawn to prepare for the day ahead.

which means at three in the morning, sevika wakes up to the sound of you showering on the opposite side of the thin wall separating your apartments, and then she's woken up again at four when a delivery truck full of flour and sugar stops outside your shops.

her grudge doesn't last long, though.

she doesn't even manage to hold it for a solid twelve hours, because during lunch, you close your bakery for thirty minutes and pop in to her little bookstore, asking for a recommendation from her-- 'something easy to read when there's a lull.'

sevika can never help herself from gushing about a good book. so you crack her grumpy facade a bit with that.

and when you offer to pay in fresh baked chocolate chip cookies-- sevika falls head over heels in love with you-- grudge completely forgotten.

it doesn't take long for the two of you to make it official. and it doesn't take long for you to turn your two separate businesses into one.

now, people can come into your bakery for a treat, grab a book, and find a cozy nook in the vast store of winding shelves and fluffy cushions to read and snack in.

now, sevika's most loyal customers can grab a snack while they sit at her little check out desk and discuss plot points with her in hushed, excited tones.

now, sevika can trudge downstairs with you when you wake up in the early morning and sleep on one of the couches near your kitchen, keeping you company with her snores as you knead dough and scoop muffins. (she can also send you up to take a nap when you inevitably crash around two in the afternoon after all your pastries are baked. 'you already cooked 'em babe, i can't burn 'em now. i know how to use a cash register-- go rest.')

and i can just imagine that as time passes and your seperate apartments upstairs turn into one home-- the backyards of your little shops would turn into one big garden, where sevika can sit and read to you in the evenings as you both sip on tea and share a new recipe you're experimenting with. (you grow all the berries you use in your pastries right there, all the herbs you need for your teas, a bunch of edible flowers for fancy displays and for your bees-- where you get your honey. you grow some veggies for sevika too-- she loves making you dinner after you've been in the kitchen all day.)

ugh. imagine how many store-cats you'd have. SO CUTE.

so cute. omg.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[tinytalkingtina]

Writing a Happier Ending

Written for the November @steddiemicrofic prompt, using the word "guard" and 532 words

Rating G | Ao3 link

Tags: Fairy tale, cursed Prince Steve, falling in love, first kisses, "as you wish" continuing to be peak romance

Thank you to steddiecameraroll-graphics for the lovely divider!

Once upon a time, a king and queen ruled over a kingdom bordered by a great lake. Though skilled in matters of diplomacy, and outwardly kind to those of their own station, the couple had never been blessed with a child. 

The lack of an heir was a never-ending source of embarrassment for the king and queen. Their resentment towards each other grew and grew, until one day the pair sought out an audience with the powerful Fairy of the Forest.

When they begged her for a miracle, the fairy asked them why they wanted to have a child:

“You have a prosperous kingdom, why would you ask for more?”

The King and Queen replied that they wished to have an heir, so that their legacy might continue, and so someone might speak of their virtues long after they were gone.

The fairy thought for a moment.

“Very well,” she said. “I can grant you what you desire. But it comes at a price. Your child shall never truly be loved by another, unless they can see and accept him as he is.”

The monarchs readily agreed.

Prince Stephen was born soon after, a squalling star-marked beauty. 

As the years passed and the prince grew, his parents held onto lofty expectations for their son. But no matter how hard he tried, the prince could never quite meet them. Eventually, the king and queen turned their attentions elsewhere.

One day, the prince made a rare appearance in town. Eddie tried not to gawk, as hard as it was.

Jeff saw him staring and rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows Prince Stephen is nothing but a pleasure seeker who’s bedded half the court. Better to stay clear of him.”

Surrounded by fawning courtiers, at first glance Stephen seemed just as vapid as Jeff proclaimed him to be. But the longer Eddie looked, the more he saw how people flocked to him only with selfish demands, and how guarded Stephen kept himself.

It was curiosity that drove Eddie to steal into the palace gardens that night, unable to rest until he found out what lay beneath the mask. Deep within the hedge maze, he found Stephen all alone, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at a book by candlelight.

Eddie's foot hit a stick on the path.

At the noise, Stephen drew his sword, but sighed when he found Eddie, frozen in fear.

“Hello. I suppose you also want something from me like all the others.”

Eddie stared at the tired and sad face before him.

“I don't want anything from you, your majesty.” Eddie replied. “But do you wish for something?”

Stephen shrugged. “Perhaps you can help me read this book. The letters dance around when I try.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Eddie said with a smile.

He returned the next evening, and many times after that. 

Every night, the prince would ask Eddie what he wanted from him. And each night, Eddie would ask instead what Stephen desired for. Seasons passed, until one day he asked for something new:

“I wish for a kiss from someone who loves me.” Given permission, Eddie drew Stephen close.

“As you wish, my heart.”

And then the two of them ran away to start new lives elsewhere. Stephen learned how to do his own laundry and they lived happily ever after, the end.

Misc. notes: -Eddie ran an apothecary in town

-It was implied, but the idea with Steve seeking meaningless sex from those around him was it at least let him pretend someone cared for him, poor thing

[atinylittlepain]

Apothecary - A Joel Miller Story

joel miller x witchy!reader

Series masterlist

joel becomes curious about the woman running the medicine shop in Jackson, and the strange rumors swirling around her.

warnings | 18+ angst, fluff, spooky ooky stuff

a/n | this was born out of me getting high and rewatching practical magic. i intend to make this a lil universe in and of itself bc i love the idea :)

.............................

Joel stops outside the storefront down the main drag of Jackson. Old license plates have been cut up to create a hodge-podged sign hanging over the door. Apothecary. When he enters, wind chimes tinkling above the door, he thinks that it looks more like a greenhouse than a medicine shop, potted plants clearly tended to with care all over the place. 

“Hello?” Though the sign says the store is open, he doesn’t see anyone around, sidling up to the checkout counter and eyeing the collection of rocks lined up next to the old, rusted-out cash register. He doesn’t have long to muse to himself about how strange the shop is when something brushes quick against his legs all of a sudden, making him let out a hard curse as he whips around in time to see a sleek black cat padding toward the back of the store.

“Sorry about her, Stevie thinks she owns the place.” He’s startled again by a voice, nearly jumping out of his boots when he turns around to find a woman has appeared behind the counter. She’s certainly a sight, old bracelets trailing up both her wrists, and dangling earrings that look to be made out of scraps of stained glass. She’s pretty, if not a little wild looking. He has to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, I’m sorry. The sign said you’re open.” She smiles, tilting her head slightly as she looks at him.

“Oh, we are! I was just working in the back. What can I help you with?” 

“Maria sent me? She said you’d be able to help– my kid’s got a pretty bad case of poison ivy and, um, yeah. I’m Joel– by the way.” Her smile broadens, warm and bright as she steps out from behind the counter, Joel stuttering into motion as she nods for him to follow her.

“I know who you are, Joel. Everyone can’t stop talking about the Jackson newcomers– welcome– by the way.” He’s a little distracted from listening to her words by the backroom she leads him into, lined with shelves stacked with glass jars full of all sorts of dried plants and thick books. There’s a wide gas range in the back of the room, large bubbling pots on most of the hobs. She glances at him over her shoulder as she flits by to stir the simmering pots.

“This used to be a bakery, way before, if you can believe it. I thought Maria was crazy when she offered me the space. But we’ve made it work.” His brow furrows.

“We?” Just then, that damn cat brushes past his legs again, making him stumble over his feet. The cat leaps up onto one of the shelves, and she chuckles as she strokes its head, smiling at Joel before turning back to the stove. 

Seemingly satisfied with the state of whatever she’s got brewing, she claps her hands together before turning back around to Joel.

“Now then, poison ivy is no fun, huh? Probably get someone in here every couple of days asking for my help with it in the summer. Lucky for you, I’ve got just the stuff to calm it down.” When she passes by him, he gets a deep whiff of something heady, like that incense stuff Sarah liked to burn. Her hands flicker over glass jars, muttering to herself as she grabs a few items. He can’t help the way his eyes graze down her bare legs in her cut-off overalls, smiling when he sees she’s wearing two different colored sneakers. Arms full, she lays out her haul on what looks like once was a butcher's block, her eyes darting up to his as she coaxes him further into the room with a crook of her finger.

“This is witch hazel– it’ll be your kid’s first line of defense to help some of the redness and swelling calm down.” She passes him a small glass bottle full of murky liquid before holding up a little tin.

“Salve made with beeswax from the hives in town and calendula– she can slather this on to help with the itching.” She’s speaking so fast he doesn’t have time to question how she knows that his kid is a she, already holding up something else, a cloth sachet.

“Oatmeal, Sarah can run a bath and soak with this in it– should soothe the itching and calm down the rash in general. I’ll give you a couple of those, you can use them a few times, but fresh is always better.” He didn’t hear the last bit, a ringing starting in his ears at the mention of that name.

“You said Sarah– w-where’d you hear that name?” Her face falls.

“Oh, I, um–” He swallows hard, cutting her off.

“I had a daughter named Sarah– she— passed— when everything– well, when everything fell apart. How did you– how did you know that name?” She sighs, offering him a nervous smile.

“It was just a slip, a lucky guess– or unlucky, I suppose. I’m really sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no. It’s, um, it’s fine. Just caught me by surprise is all. Ellie– that’s the name of my kid that’s probably itching herself into a frenzy right now.” Her smile widens just slightly at that, her shoulders coming unwound. He reckons that if it had been anyone else saying Sarah’s name, he would’ve knocked their lights out. But all he feels hearing her say it is an almost soothing sadness.

“Well, in that case, I hope Ellie starts feeling better soon. Oh! I have one more thing for you!” Before he can protest, his hands already full of the little bits she gave him, she slips over to one of the shelves to grab another small tin before coming back over to him.

“Spearmint and lavender– these mountains are crawling with it– mixed up in a balm. Good for back pain.” His jaw slackens.

“How did you–”

“Lucky guess. Lemme know if it helps.” The way she grins at him almost distracts him, almost, but he huffs, shaking his head.

“I can’t take all this for free– it’s– it’s too much.” She laughs.

“Well who said anything about free? I was hoping you’d trade me some of your time for all that.” He squints at her, not sure what she means, and she chuckles at his questioning look.

“From what I hear, you’re pretty good on patrol. Would you be willing to come with me up into the mountains a time or two? It’s peak harvesting time for all these goodies and I could use an extra pair of eyes.” She waves her arm, motioning toward the shelves stocked with plants. 

“That’s all? Doesn’t sound like a–” She cuts him off with another wave of her arm, her bracelets clinking wildly with the motion.

“I know I drive a hard deal, but that’s the best I can do.” By the crinkling around her eyes, he can tell that there will be no arguing with her, even though it’s obviously not a fair trade with the way she’s loaded him up with stuff. He sighs, finally nodding.

“Um, alright then. You just tell me when and I’m your man– I mean– not your– I’m–” while he’s mortified by the way he just put his foot in his mouth, she seems perfectly amused by it, letting out a light laugh that cuts off his floundering.

“Sounds like we have a deal. I’d shake your hand if both of them weren’t full– oh! I haven’t even told you my name, have I?” He shakes his head and she sighs at herself, telling him her name. He rolls it over in his mind a few times as she apologizes for her lack of manners, walking with him back out to the front of the shop.

“If Ellie’s still itching in a week, come back and tell me. I might have something a little stronger that can help.” He nods as she opens the door for him, but before he can step out, the cat is twining between his boots, purring like an engine. He’s never liked cats much.

“Hmm, Stevie likes you. That’s rare, y’know. Very high compliment from little miss.” She grins at him, all warmth and sweetness. Maybe he can make an exception for one cat. She scoops up the cat, nuzzling her chin over the top of the purring feline’s head. He leans against the doorframe, suddenly not too worried about getting home to Ellie who’s probably scratching her skin off right now.

“Is that Stevie, um, as in Stevie Nicks?” That earns him her brightest smile yet. It didn’t take a genius to make that guess, seeing as she’s dressed like she just stepped out of a hippie commune, though Joel supposes that Jackson could fit that description.

“Mmhmm, you a Fleetwood Mac fan?” Truthfully, he isn’t. Not now, and not before. But for some reason, he’s inclined to nod.

“Aren’t you a little young to be listening to them?” She scoffs. He’s honestly not sure how old she is, definitely younger than him, but that’s as far as he can guess.

“They were my mom’s favorite band, and then they were mine– are mine. I managed to snatch an old vinyl of theirs a while ago but I wore it out I played it so much.” She lets out a light laugh, Stevie squirming in her arms. Joel makes a mental note to keep his eyes peeled for records on his patrol shifts, only getting snapped out of his thoughts when she lets out a sigh.

“I should let you get back to Ellie, she’s probably itching up a storm by now. Let me know how that stuff works for her.” He nods, taking one more look at the cat who he swears has been staring at him, before stepping out.

“I will– thank you– really, I appreciate it. And you’ll let me know when you need my help?” She offers him a crooked smile as she nods.

“I sure will. It was nice to meet you, Joel. I’ll see you soon.” 

It must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. At least that’s what he tells himself the whole walk home. Cats can’t wink, right?

…

With summer in full swing, the weekly market in town has moved from the community center outside to the main drag of Jackson, makeshift booths heavy with abundant produce, fresh breads, and other wares. 

Ellie had dragged Joel out with her, poison ivy all but cleared now, and promptly abandoned him to run off with her new friends. He finds himself leaning up against one of the storefronts, quietly watching the comings and goings, always surprised by just how many folks there are in this town. His interest is piqued, however, when he sees a familiar black cat slinking through the crowd. He cranes his neck, watching as the cat stops between a pair of mismatched sneakers. His eyes trail up, seeing her in those same overalls, dangly earrings glinting in the mid-day sun as she looks over a table of produce. 

“You’re gonna catch flies looking like that, brother.” Tommy’s voice startles him, his focus reluctantly pulling away from her to his brother who has sidled up next to him, a smug grin on his face. Joel clears his throat, trying to hide the fact that his jaw really had been hanging on its hinges. Tommy chuckles.

“Who are you making eyes at anyways?”

“I’m not making eyes at anyone. I was looking for Ellie– I lost track of her in this damn crowd.” Tommy shakes his head, his eyes trailing to where Joel had just been looking. By the way his grin widens, he seems to know exactly who Joel had been looking at.

“Maria told me she sent you to the apothecary the other day. That lady’s something else, huh?” Joel glances back over to her, seeing that she’s started wandering along the booths, cat trailing along behind her. 

“What’s her– how– what do you know about her?” Tommy sighs, glancing back at Joel.

“Well, the old Jackson rumor mill will tell you one thing. But all she’s been is a service to the community, really. Was the biggest help to Maria when she was pregnant– helped her through the birth and everything.” Joel squints at his brother.

“And what does the “old Jackson rumor mill” have to say about her?” Tommy lets out another sigh, scratching at the scruff along his jaw.

“It’s silly, honestly. Just a story made up by people with small minds.” 

“So what is it? Just tell me, Tommy.” 

“Some folks around town– they’ve got it in their heads that– well, that she’s a witch.” Joel feels his face go slack at that. Tommy just shakes his head.

“I told you it’s stupid. People just– they think she’s a bit strange, I guess. Though if you ask me, that rumor has more to do with all the wives of Jackson not liking the way their men look at her.” Joel glances away at his brother, finding her in the crowd. But this time, he notices all the people around her, mostly the women, and the nasty way they seem to size her up as she walks by. Joel huffs.

“That’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. A couple of ladies get jealous so they start calling her a witch? Seriously?” Tommy shrugs.

“Hey, stranger things have happened. It’s not so hard to believe, not since people started growing mushrooms out of their skulls.” Tommy’s got him there, but Joel still has to shake his head at what his brother has told him.

“I thought you said it’s just a silly rumor.” His brother’s silence tells him more than words ever could, and Joel has to laugh.

“You’re kidding. You actually think that we’ve got a– a witch in town?” Tommy grumbles at that. 

“Look, Joel, I’m not gonna lie to you. There’s been some freaky shit with her– healing people, knowing things that she shouldn’t know, hell, even that damn cat of hers is–” 

“What do you mean– knowing things she shouldn’t know?” Tommy huffs at Joel’s interruption.

“She calls them lucky guesses. All I’ll say is it sure seems like that woman has a lot of luck.” Joel’s breath catches listening to Tommy’s explanation, his mind immediately going back to that day he met her, how she had known Sarah’s name. 

“Listen, the bottom line is, she’s done nothing but good for Jackson with that shop of hers. Whatever she is, she’s a good one. But, brother, I wouldn’t go calling after her.” Joel’s brow furrows, head tilting at his brother. 

“I wasn’t– even if I was– why shouldn’t I?” Tommy smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because while the women of Jackson call her a witch, the men of Jackson just call her a heartbreaker.” 

[the-kr8tor]

Hello!!! here is my first potion request! the ideas have finally finished cooking up in my brain!!! the apothecary is so cute!!!!!!!!

Can i please get flax seeds in ❣️bottle please with r and hobie getting their first farm together

🕊️anon

Dovey! Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, set in the our place in the middle of nowhere AU, cowboy AU, talks of pregnancy, lovestruck! Hobie, Cowboy! Hobie, Old west AU, CW death mention, Fluff!

Our place in the middle of nowhere masterlist

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

You whistle lowly at the dusty barn looming over you. “She's a beut!”

The red paint is chipping from the elements, its hinges are rusted, and there's a huge hole in the ceiling. You're sure that's not a feature.

Hobie luggs around a heavy bag of tools borrowed from the people in town. Although his hand is occupied, he still takes the time to hold your hand under the blazing sun. His eyes squint at the building, neck straining to look at the hole where he definitely needs to patch up lest Bucky and Cherry start sleeping inside the farm house. His scar catches your eye, no longer hidden by a bandana. He looks comfortable, more at home standing on his land with you right next to him.

After cleaning up the house as much as you can, (or until you stopped sneezing every minute,) and patching up all the holes he missed the first time which suspiciously look like bullet holes, you and Hobie aren't even half done with renovating the whole property. When he first bought the place, he never thought that you'd be living with him, now that you are, he has a proper excuse on why he bought what Miguel and Riri called a ‘dirt farm.’ At least you two have a stable place to eat and sleep in instead of staying at a roach infested and mold ridden hotel somewhere in town.

Even with all the hard work that you two have and will need to put in to make the farm a home you're both proud of, you wouldn't have it any other way. You'd choose this every time as long as he's with you. You haven't even thought about your old life ever since you both slept for the first time under the same roof you both could call home.

“You said that when you first saw the farm house.”

You nudge his shoulder, leaning closer, and cheek pressed on his warm skin that's in full display because of an old work shirt that he had to cut the sleeves off. The bleached overalls and cowboy boots makes him look infinitely more handsome under the western sun. Noticing his squinting, you take your (his) hat off and place it on his head to help shield him from the sun. He gives you a look, smile etched on his face as his eyes conveys something else that has your heart jumping in place.

“And I was right,” you glance at the farm house a few ways away. After three whole days of painting the outside, the house now looks shiny and new with its light blue paint that reminds you of the sea, and brown inlays basking in the sun. “We just gave her a makeover.”

“More like a facelift, lovie.” He tilts his head to make you look at him, index and thumb cupping your chin. “Think you can handle this one?”

You blink at him, face heated at the close proximity as his breath fans your cheeks. “Yes, because I know if we go back inside then we really won't be able to do anything else today. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and—”

“I bloody get it, I'm insatiable.” He rolls his jade eyes, lips already puckering up to meet with your own. “Can't help it when you look at me like that, love.”

“Hobie, I love you so damn much but at this rate we'll get a surprise down the road.” You reluctantly lean away, earning a pout from one of the most feared outlaw in the west. “Think nine months down the road.”

He grins at your last sentence, then his expression morphs into contemplation, then to panic. Giving you a front row seat to his crisis.

“While you think about that,” you pat his cheek lovingly before walking away. “I'm going to check the barn.”

“Wait, love, are you—?!” He calls after you, quickly running right behind you.

You laugh loudly, sprinting away as you push the barn door open, getting a full face of dust and cobwebs once you get inside. Coughing, it's Hobie's turn to laugh at you.

“Shit! I underestimated how dirty this place is.” Wiping your face, the tool bag thumps on the hay filled floor, then you feel his calloused hands cup your face as he gently wipes the dust and cobwebs off of you. “Thanks, Hobs.”

He hums in reply, taking his sweet time in cleaning you up. His brows pinch together, lips frowning. “Don't panic but there's a big spider on your hair.”

“What?!” You frantically shake your head, hands scratching and waving your hair away all over the place. “Get it off!”

Hobie's amused laugh stops you in your tracks. Your hair is a mess, face all scrunched up because of his little prank. “C’mere.” He opens his arms for you, but you refuse to move. “‘m sorry, c’mon, let me make it better—”

“No,” you pout while trying to fix your hair. “You've betrayed me, Hobie Brown.”

He tilts his head playfully, green eyes shining with affection. “You wanna duel for it then?”

You stare at him with feigned shock. “You know I'll lose—!” Side stepping away when he tries to make a move on you, your pout turns into a smile. “No!” You point accusingly at him.

His and yours echoing laughter can be heard outside as you two play tag inside the dusty barn. His fingers brush along your arm but you escape his hold by jumping on the ladder leading up to the hayloft. The creaking is tamped down by your giggles as he pretends to yank you off the ladder.

“I said sorry!” His grin shines bright as sunlight filters through the cracks.

“No, you're mean!” Climbing higher, the creaking turns into wood splitting away. “Oh shit—!” You begin to fall down, still holding onto the ladder.

“Oh shit!” Hobie panics, arms ready to catch you. “Love!” Chest aching, and legs shaking, he catches you in time before you could fully fall. You land with a grunt, eyes shut closed as dust and bits of hay fall down on the two of you like snow. The loud clang of the ladder rings in your ears. “Got you,” he sighs in relief, heart still thudding in his chest from the sudden shot of adrenaline. His knees almost buckle from under him, hip and elbows aching from the impact. “Fuckin' hell.”

You crack one eye open, finding yourself in his familiar arms. “I thought I was a goner.” Patting his chest, your palm stays there until his quick heartbeat subsides. You smile at him apologetically, “thank you, Hobie. I'm sorry, I got carried away— achoo!”

Your sneeze breaks the tension, making Hobie's worried look turn into surprise then to a gleeful smile. As you stare up at him with those shining eyes and shy smile, he can't help but lean closer to you despite his aching muscles telling him to put you down.

“You'll be the death of me.” He whispers to you with a soft smile. “And I'll die happy.”

“You're not allowed to die on my watch, cowboy.” You say as his lips give you a peck right on your forehead. He traces your nose down to your cupid's bow, pausing when he lingers just above your lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[atlaculture]

More Life Updates

So here's my life as of now...

Currently reading Delicious in Dungeon and Apothecary Diaries. They have taken over my brain.

Finally landed a job out of California, so I'll be in the process of moving in the next couple of months.

It's a non-prison job, so I'm positive that my mental health will improve.

It's a hybrid job, so I'll be spending half of my work hours in the office and half of them remotely. This will do a lot to curb burnout for me.

All in all, while this will be my first time living out of state, I look forward to what's ahead of me. I'm hoping this change of pace will improve my mood and inspire me to write more ATLAculture content. I do have quite a few ideas swimming around in my head, so hopefully a change of pace will allow those loose ideas to manifest into concrete words.

As always, thank you to everyone following this blog. Receiving positive feedback for something I'm genuinely passionate about has had an immeasurably positive impact on my life. I'm really grateful for all of you.

[sunseed-fandump]

Let’s talk about Realm of Apathy rq and what I think this means for the next parts of the story.

And this isn’t talking about gameplay or anything like that this is purely from a lore and story perspective.

(Disclaimer that a lot of this is my own opinion and speculation based off of what we have seen so far.)

Based off of the events of Silver Kingdom and Realm of Apathy, I believe we’re really going to start getting a better idea of the extent of the Beasts powers. Their bodies might be crumbled, their spirits might be sealed, but their WILL is unrestrained; especially now that they’ve been awoken from their eons long slumber.

Twice now we have seen a Beast Cookie either completely alter reality to suit their own whims (Shadow Milk Cookie to the Faerie Kingdom) or create/maintain an entire plane of existence separate from the Real World. (Mystic Flour Cookie with the Ivory Pagoda and pretty much most of what we see in Episode 4)

The only other time we have seen this so far - to my knowledge - is Moonlight Cookie and her imperative role in maintaining the Dream World.

I wouldn’t be surprised if every Beast was capable of exerting their Will like this and creating entire domains.

This, to me, is truly a testament of their power; and if this is what they’re capable on only HALF of their original power??? Holy shit. It’s no wonder the Witches had to step in when they did. There was no way the cookies of the distant past would have been able to compete against LITERAL GODS.

Thankfully, now there’s a more even playing field.

What does this mean for the story going forward?

Well I’m not 100% certain, but I’m pretty sure with the next few Beast Updates we may or may not see their respective “domains” or realms. Representations of who they are and their ultimate desires.

I believe what we’ve seen from Mystic Flour Cookie wasn’t real, however what was shown in ep 4 was what she DESIRED to do when she obtained the means to do so (getting Dark Cacao's Resolution).

Remember, the Beasts are still in the Silver Tree. They can’t affect the real world until they are out. Shadow Milk Cookie couldn’t do so until he was able to break out during the events of episodes 1 + 2, and the moment he was sealed back up, all the circus stuff vanished. (The only wrench in the works here would be the Pale Ailment which spurred Dark Cacao Cookie into showing up to Beast-Yeast at all. The Fog was very much Real. However, considering the low number of casualties listed off by the apothecary at the end of Ep 4, AND the fact they were able to find a cure for it at all, makes me believe that this was a VERY WEAK version of what Mystic Flour had in mind.)

But you know what they CAN do??? Mentally assault and torment their Ancient Hero counterparts.

Just some food for thought :)

tl;dr: The Heroes are boutta go THROUGH IT and are gonna get BULLIED by a bunch of OLD ANGRY GHOSTS.

[cherrsnut]

Hostage - Chapter 1

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for. 

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 3.8k

Previous // Next

Chapter 1

Silence echoed throughout the walls of the streets, and for once it looked like the town had been abandoned, just like everybody had agreed to up and leave it in search of a better fate than what lay ahead of them, or perhaps all the citizens just simply vanished from sight. The breeze of the sea, just as icy as the ocean, seemed to catch on with the mournful mood of the alleyways. The tense atmosphere signaled the hidden mice to not even voice a squeak out of respect. 

Even at the plaza, everyone was quiet, and their usually lively ambiance ceased to exist. Just by the sight of the ocean, you noticed just how the wind didn’t spare any mercy for all the attendees of the Reaping. Making this already melancholic ambiance much harder to ignore. 

You looked around and followed behind the big agglomeration of people queuing up, making another step further into Panem’s hell. You pursed your lips together and gulped down nervously, patiently awaiting your death sentence. 

There were people everywhere, too many people for it to be so quiet to your liking. Although the great majority were adolescents of the oceanic village, you had previously realized the older folks stood far behind you, their suppressed anxiety over their children’s safety due to the men in white, the Peacekeepers, stance in front of them. Their threatening military pattern removed any type of confidence of any caregiver to sneak in and take their child away without facing heavy repercussions. Stationed there to install and make the proceedings of the Hunger Games go as smoothly as possible from outside the Capitol. 

The sea of heads that appeared in front of you made the stage barely visible, but you came across what looked like a Peacekeeper setting up a camera, of course, the Reaping was to be live-streamed. Just on top of a platform and above the stage, you were sure the crystal lenses would take up the view of all the adolescents present. 

“Everything will be alright” You turned to look beside you, surprised to find a voice breaking the quietness you were starting to getting used to and assume it would prevail for the rest of the annual event. At least before the cries of children as they break their realization of being chosen, or the burning point of a mother’s distress breaks out in a horrible scream. 

You assumed it was a pair of siblings, taking notice of the facial traits to be almost identical. Very blonde locks, both wearing the same warm coffee color eyes with freckles of the same hue spotted all other cheeks. And while they represented themselves in the body of the other gender, you found the boy to look somewhere about your age, his sister was a head smaller than him, and you thought it was plausible she just came of age for the nauseating event. 

“I promise” he made an oath to his sister, interlocking his finger with hers. She breathed heavily, the limit of her sanity crossing over a soon-to-be panic attack. She tried to fixate her eyes on him, fighting off a barrier to gain herself back together, a battle she looked like she was going to lose. Her brother, which you finally recalled his name to be Philip, crouched down and enveloped her in his arms. An arm protectively around her back, while the other moved around her head in an attempt to massage it to calm her down. 

Even in his arms, the little girl was visibly trembling, probably both from the fear and anxiety, that were purging an acidic bile up to her taste glands. The little girl’s forehead pressed on her brother's chest, finding comfort in his protective body. 

“Just breathe deeply, ‘kay?” he reassured. His hard fingers were full of little lines of scars, some of which you could recall treating at the herbal shop, and crept up to hold her face. Philip always found himself surrounded by District’s 4 aquaculture, and it was bound to happen after long shifts handling the wires of the nets to eventually cause multiple physical damages. 

Philip removed himself from the little girl and looked at her features. She struggled to do so, every time she tried she’d be under attack from another uncontrollable shaking. She could only grab onto his shirt, the shaking becoming increasingly harder with each passing second. The hand that was used to the hard labor of the sea, wrapped itself on top of his sister’s hand, much bigger in comparison. The warmth of their bond calmed her down just slightly, and he went to kiss her forehead affectionately. 

“I’m here” his whisper was carried by the breeze that brushed her ear, which tickled her slightly. Upon noticing your heavy stare on them, Philip looked over to you. Both of your eyes interlock with each other. You tried to give him an encouraging smile, but the heavy situation still weighed you down, and your smile came across as a sad one. One that showed pity and understanding toward his sister. 

He gave you a knowing look, before his eyes went to his sister, and suffocated further in his embrace to help her to get back to the queue. “I’m here” he repeated. 

The stern voice of a woman, announcing a “next” brought you back to reality. You’d forgotten just how the line always moved rather fast, especially so when you had a tendency to drown yourself in self-pity. You were always alone while queuing up to sign in, and never had people you called friends. But you were content with the short company clients or injured patients gave you, just like Edna’s until she died. But you did wonder how it would feel in this moment to be in the company of another person, would you cry together? Maybe hug each other? Or maybe just stay silent unable to utter anything that wasn’t bitter. But this year you felt differently, you wished for the little girl’s safety just like your own.

You gave your hand to the Peacekeeper just as you told her your name, and she took it with the rubber texture of the black-gloved hand of hers. The way she held it was rather rough, but you understood it as wanting to keep you completely still for the pinch in your finger and not mess it up. The end of the buzzing sound coming from the long mechanism suggested the dna withdrawal was finished, accompanied by the slight pain of the tiny nick, so small you’d never consider it an injury. 

The Peacemaker guided your finger, a blood drop visible forming, and pressed it on top of the inky empty box drawn on a piece of paper. Your name was attached next to it, with your general information written in smaller letters below it. You assumed the pieces of paper that were attached just like a book, were the enlistment of the possible Tributes of your District. But then again, you didn’t care enough and let that thought drift away just as fast as it came. 

Another mechanism, this one much larger and formed just like a box had been stepped and decided to stay in that flat shape. A laser came from the bottom, scanning the blood accompanied by the noisy sounds of mechanical beepings. When it was all set, the Peacemaker simply bid you farewell and called for the child behind you. 

You left defeated, another step closer to the selection process. The idea of you being chosen terrified you, and you could feel the anxiety taking hold of your bones. You prayed again in self-pity. Edna always mentioned the idea of sirens existing, and while you never truly believed in it, you prayed for them to listen to you. Every time, at the Reaping, for the past four years you prayed for them.

With an exasperated sigh flying out, you walked around the plaza trying to find a place to stand by and wait for your trial. That was until a hand tapped your shoulder and a raspy voice called out your name. You turned, even more surprised to find Philip along with his sister, both holding hands. 

You looked at the boy standing in front of you, expectant as to why he had called you. He gave a quick glance to the little blonde beside him before he spoke.

“Hey, umm, you mind taking Emi with you?” your eyes trailed off to the girl, finally being able to give her face a name. Emi looked at the floor, a mortifying expression coming across her face. 

“It’s just-” he tried to continue his explanation. 

“Sure” you smiled at the girl gripping onto dear life to her brother. You took out your hand for her, and with unsettlement pumping over her brain, she brushed her finger across yours. 

“So, Emi is your name” The statement oddly sounded like a question, but you wanted to make her feel more comfortable even in this terrible situation. To communicate with her, and make her see you as someone she could trust momentarily before she would hopefully turn back with her brother. 

Her crystal eyes moved up to you and murmured an mhm before walking indecisively toward you. She looked at the ground when you told her your name, but you couldn’t feel any type of annoyance by it, not when her hands were trembling exaggeratedly. So you squeezed hers lightly in an attempt to make her feel more at ease in your presence. 

Philp sighed and you noticed the heavy burden that lifted off of him. He gave you a small smile, the one he hadn’t reciprocated before. 

“Thank you” his eyes shone, which only suggested to you the tears he wanted to pour out in that moment. You empathized with him, he probably didn’t have much time to take in the Reaping for himself, and rather give away his attention to his sister who needed him to be strong in her stead. A thought appeared one which you respected and showed sympathy for the mental work they put in for the sake of the younger family members. 

“Don’t mention it” you smiled with him. You rolled your eyes at the girl holding your hand, and with the same smile, you muttered. “Let’s go Cupcake”

“Hello Cuties” Sing sang the woman on stage. Her peculiar fashion style nationally known for the Capital’s trends flied around with her sparkling personality. With the color theme of purple pink and pale yellow, shades lighter of the sunflower petals, she wore a design that resembled a kimono. The notable way how the coat of the fabric was placed on top of the other to keep it in a steady place, and with the addition of the belt, covering the whole of the waist until just below her chest, as a means to keep the clothing stuck and not untie itself. The completely yellow obi, name of the kimono belts, was adorned with some sort of lacing at the top and bottom of purplish-dyed sheep wool, with the addition of a pink bow wrapped around the obi. 

The star of the fashion design was the sleeves. With a hole showing the shoulders and a few inches down the arm, the rest was covered in the beautiful colors of the spring. With many odd shapes and colors on the fabric. Which later opened up its sleeves up to three feet long. It gave off the impression of wings when the arms were pulled up. The rest seemed to just be decorations around her figure, from a fabric choker of purple as well as the striking head ornaments of the same color scheme presented. 

Her voice was too optimistic for your liking, and the singing tunes brought up were as distasteful as her color choice. 

“Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be in your favor” The District 4 escort celebrated baring her teeth out with that pink tint across her lips, the same tint that decorates her eye shadow.

“But before we begin, The Capitol has brought us a special film for us” she again songed, and you were already starting to be filled with the irritation of her voice. 

Emi was still holding your hand. She had kept a close distance from you, practically stuck to your form from the moment we were placed here. She tugged onto your long skirt, and you looked down to find her somber eyes looking up at you. Although you agreed to stay by her side, her added melancholy was starting to affect your already distressed mood, and even though you tried to calm her down she seemed focused on her overwhelmed state. 

You smiled at her, with the film starting in ahead of you. 

“War. Terrible war” You rolled your eyes up while making a hand movement in a sign to poke fun at President Snow’s repeated speech. Your mock seemed to finally crack a little smile on the little girl, and you were pleased to see her relax a tiny bit. 

The film carried on, and your attention span had been but all gone. The Hunger Games were a devastating reality, that had already taken hundreds of children away. You couldn’t see the point of this little speech anymore, and right before the selection process at that. And it seemed Snow was trying to ridicule the Distrct’s anxiety. It exhausted you to no end to have to listen to the same words and the same images, and it got you wondering just why it had to be the same recycled film every single year. 

You thought of Emi again. The very same thought appeared every single year, just why were we taking the consequences of a revolution none of us partook in? The only person that you knew who was alive from when the Revolution was still afloat was Edna, and she still lamented that she was just a child when it ended, and luckily enough she never got chosen as Tribute. And that thought only led to helplessness because even though it wasn’t in the least bit fair, there was nothing you nor anyone who would be able to do anything about it. 

“The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness” It was the voice of a pragmatic leader giving a speech, sprinkled with sentimental music that made your stomach stir uncomfortably. The crease in your eyebrow knitting as you tried to forget the nauseating feeling from inside you, represented exactly in your self turmoil, you were disgusted. 

You gulped down hard as the film finally ended. You gave Emi a quick squeeze to comfort yourself. She only gave you a pointed glance before directing her attention to the colorful escort on the stage. 

“Alrighty. Now the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman” she informed, as you bit back your tongue to correct her misuse of words of man and woman for children. 

“For the honor of representing District 4 in the 67th Annual Hunger Games” she continued. She then started walking over the large crystal sphere. Inside laid the names of all the girls that had been forced to sign in, inside a folded piece of paper. “Ladies first” she giggled further. 

Her hand moved around the pieces of paper messily scattered around the sphere before choosing one. She quickly picked it up to her eye level, a sneaky smile appearing on her face. 

You let out a breath, you had done your best to try and calm your nerves. The anxiety was way past the boiling point, and you swore your legs felt drunk. 

The escort walks back to the microphone, and the only thing missing for her to further mock your emotions was to make a little dance around the platform, kick up some moves, or simply jump in excitement.

She opened the piece of paper. Your heart beating fast in the back of your throat, as another wave of anxiety filled every single pore in your skin. Her long nails made it difficult for her to open it, and as time passed on, you could feel yourself growing insane. You internally cursed at the escort, every cell in your body screaming at her to just finally read it. And before you knew it she called out a name, your name. 

Everything just stopped in you, and if it weren’t because you’d be a dead corpse from organ malfunction, you could’ve sworn your heart just stopped. Your eyes were locked on the colorful woman, but you weren’t looking at her. You were staring into space, you were trying to assimilate the situation you just got yourself involved. But you couldn’t, there was something in you, and that something didn’t connect the wires that you were going to die sooner than you hoped for. The idea of being picked for the annual event was always at the back of your mind, what would be your reaction? You thought that rationally, you’d be upset, maybe crying as well, or perhaps straight screaming and begging to do a re-drawl. 

But you weren’t, you were simply still. The look of every girl that had known you looking at you, and it wasn’t melancholy that invaded their intense gaze, but rather they were grateful they weren’t the ones chosen. As hypocritical as it made you, you were mad at them. Your internal anger was justified in your eyes, maybe because you needed someone or something to be mad at. But no matter how irritated you were, you’d done the same in their stead the previous three years you had attended the Reaping. 

With another exhale, you came to yourself. You needed to get on the stage. You walked out to the corridor, but barely made a step when Emi tugged back on your fingers. Her eyes were scanning your facial expression. And the way she spoke your name suggested to you, she was beyond her shocked stage.

You gulped another chunk of saliva and got to your knees. You smiled at her, as brightly as you could force it out. And it occurred to you to close your eyes, because you knew you couldn’t force a reassuring look without the fear lurking behind it. 

The military steps of the Peacekeepers echoed within every corner of your body so quickly and in a rushed matter. You kissed her forehead, as gentle as a flying feather, to put her at ease. 

“I’ll be fine, Cupcake,” you told her as confident as possible, trying not to let the fear accumulated in you spill over the beautiful young girl. And so you stood up, another quick smile flashing over your face before walking the hall that would send you straight to a living Hell. You kept muttering those words “I’ll be fine” as if you wanted to console yourself unknowingly. For now, if lying to yourself is what kept you sane enough to act normally, even suspiciously so, you’d go for it. And once the situation avalanched over your entity, you could collapse and lament for yourself on your own.

You held your head high while walking, your form an empty shell void of any emotions. The very pink hue colored on the escort’s face became clearer with each step, she smiled brightly at you. The wrinkles shown at the corner of her eyes signal of her enjoyment. 

“Wonderful! We have our female Tribute for District 4!” playfully expressed the escort, looking straight at your eyes. You walked up the stairs, with Peacekeepers in tow behind you.  

The escort held up a hand to you, helping you get up faster, so she could back to her selecting process, although this time it would be a boy. All in her chillingly joyful manner. 

Without hesitation, she placed the mic in front of you. 

“So, dear, tell me, was that your sister?” she asked you, although it seemed she was asking on behalf of the whole Capitol. 

“No…” your voice was weak, the intimidating audience just looked up at you which worsened your nauseating bitter taste. The escort eyed you, waiting for any further explanation.

“She’s my… friend” Her impatience only made your voice quieter, which she must have been content that your husky and throaty tone was speaking through the loud microphone. 

The sudden realization came crashing now. Seeing the look of pitied people just below you, wishing you luck before you left for the Capitol, filled the shining of water in your sclera and, you hand was lightly shaking beside your thigh. 

“Everyone, please! A round of applause for our lovely Tribute!” she called your name again. Her clapping was soon stopped at the awkwardness that she was the only one celebrating this. You breathed in and out heavy air. 

“And now, for the gentlemen” announced the woman standing beside you. Of course, she was trying to salvage the situation. You looked at everyone, and they were all looking back at you. You were lucky enough to connect eyes with Philip, and while you never considered him to be a friend, you were happy to see a familiar face. He was the only one to provide you with that comfort. He looked like he wanted to say something through his eyes, and you responded with a tear swimming down your cheek, and following its path further down your neck. 

“Vito Rosechaser” was called. The look of another adolescent, about your age or older roamed around his fellow friends, that gave him a sad look. He opened his mouth, surprised, and as the situation sunk deep into him, he walked down the hall, again with the Peacekeepers around him like frustrating flies.

Just then you’d taken in his appearance, from afar his eyes seemed dark just like his hair. Big build and muscles that suggested he’d worked hard in his life, and you lamented that he propably didn’t deserve this.

You looked at Vito at the end of the stairs, and his eyes briefly grazed yours before he stopped to look at the public. The mic was stolen from you.

“And finally” the hyper tone echoed throughout the plaza, loud enough to quiet down the crashing waves of the beach nearby. The breeze cold as snow felt like it had punctured your veins, and that icy hurt traveled through your body. 

“Our Tributes from District 4” her white teeth never failed to show at the camera. 

“Come on you two, shake hands” The oddly dressed woman grabbed onto the hems of your and Vito’s shirts, encouraging you two to do the action and let it be over. She stepped back, and the both of you looked at each other before gripping both of your hands. 

“Happy Hunger Games!” she sang happily. It echoed in every single rib, deep inside your abdomen. A voice you’d never forget, you were sure of that. Even long after the Games, if you’d even be able to survive, you’d be waking up with this chilling lullaby she was singing. 

“And remember, may the odds be ever in your favor” 

Previous // Next

[fushitoru]

guys wtf im not built to be a proper indian because WDYM i had ONE bite of samosa and three days later im having violent indigestion LIKE ????

ANYWAYS that's caused me to binge "no doubt in us" and OH MY GOD i know what my next mini-series is gonna be. it's the cutest fucking anime. it is now my second favorite anime (first place being jjk and apothecary diaries). it's available on netflx if you have nothing to binge this winter break BINGE THAT. it's also a manhua (COMPLETED).

if you've watched pls pls PLEASE tell me which jjk man is the closest to xiao jinyun oh my god im such a sucker for the whole cold-emperor-falling-in-love-with-his-arranged-marriaged-empress-and-rejecting-his-harem-and-concubines-to-only-bear-heirs-with her.

also if you were any one of the people that commented below my goddess!reader x rejected child!sukuna idea that you want to read it, please have my hand in marriage immediately thanks xoxo

[myapothecarydiary]

Thoughts from reading The Apothecary Diaries Manga Ch. 3

An expansion on an idea presented last chapter–how Jinshi's appearance affects how others treat him and the potential seriousness of it. Don't want to take it too far, but could it be said that people treat him how women are often treated in real life? With cat-calling and such. Only there's a difference in the power dynamics at play as Jinshi is in a role of authority.

Here we are also getting more insight into Jinshi's internal life and thoughts, which present a notable contrast to how Maomao views him and the persona she has so far observed. He's not all charming smiles and sparkles, we see him contemplative and expressing a range of emotions.

As of now, though her intelligence is notable, you wouldn't say Maomao could check these boxes, but lineage + beauty + intelligence are qualifications I think we should keep in mind in relation to her character. Maomao low key has some princess raised as a peasant vibes going on. Maomao and "a sense of virtue" have a less clearcut relationship, but it will be a topic of conversation in the future.

I think it's easy to imagine that in a more typical story, Maomao might have a more Cinderella-like arc, a peasant gaining the attention/favor of the Emperor through beauty and kindness and I am once again reminded of how Maomao is valued first and foremost for her intelligence. She will be found to be beautiful, but her beauty did not gain her Jinshi's attention or her position as a lady-in-waiting.

Both Maomao and Jinshi think of the rear palace as a cage. I wonder if he considers it a cage for himself as well considering what he must do to occupy space there? Or is it simply the opposite–a path to freedom? Perhaps both?

Jinshi also recognizes the role he is to play, but that does not mean he supports all the actions he must take. Everything is not always what it seems. Like Maomao, Jinshi is pragmatic about his appearance and recognizes the value/power in his beauty, but he also seems to resent it to some degree and view it as a burden. Pragmatic but resigned.

Jinshi's pov on the entire concubine system is quite interesting. He seems to disapprove of how things are done (and how the consorts/women are treated?) Surely this clashes with his desire for the Emperor to secure an heir?

Is "the plan" the one regarding the aphrodisiac (and the mid-ranking concubine/military officer)? Or his wider plan regarding working in the rear palace?

I'm wondering about what exactly produces Jinshi's feelings of...let's call it "glee"? in regards to "using" Maomao and how useful she will prove to be. Is it that she entertains him? Excites what feels like a dull and monotonous life? Is it that he enjoys exercising power in this way? I feel it's more the former, especially since he next goes on to describe how she treats him differently than anyone else he has ever encountered. She is novel. And Jinshi, as someone used to people being taken with his beauty, enjoys how her reaction to him goes beyond being unaffected by his beauty to the point of being repelled by it.

It's interesting that Maomao can seem rather monotone and subdued (except when she's not–she is extremely expressive when it comes to what she is passionate about, like poison), but her face also often acts as a give away. (Is that just a Jinshi related thing?) I mentioned this in the previous chapter and how she skirts the line in terms of respectfulness in how her actions and expressions (and even tone) clash, but maybe she isn't really so successful in skirting the line if her expression is so obvious.

I find it interesting how the manga opts to adapt the idea of Maomao as a "new toy" for Jinshi–he is the one to think it and make that connection. Also lol at it having him explicitly state he's "not a masochist" because hmm there's an argument to be made that both he and Maomao derive pleasure from pain.

Maomao as intriguing to Jinshi feels important. I said that he values her knowledge and skills, and I suppose that + how she treats him differently than others do (+ him eventually seeing her as quite beautiful) forms the basis of his attraction to her. But her being intriguing also factors into that and reminds me of all the intrigue and mysteries Maomao (and Jinshi) get involved in. She herself is like a mystery to be solved (as is he to her as the story goes on!)

Maomao as a toy also speaks to how Jinshi uses her. Yes, she entertains him, but "toy" also connotes a power dynamic (and so part of the enjoyment does come from having power over her?) Maomao is of course later referred to as a cat, not to mention her actual name, and Maomao as Jinshi's pet seems like an apt way to describe their initial dynamic.

(oh no she fell down a (pet) rabbit hole) BUT I really think there is something to be said for considering Maomao and Jinshi through "pet" and all its various meanings. Only thing is Maomao is not tamed or domesticated XD (but maybe she'll trend in that direction as time goes on aka adapt to Jinshi's lifestyle and status?)

For now, Jinshi is the master and holds the power in a traditional sense, but he will also quickly develop affection and favoritism for Maomao (and wants her companionship!) + despite how the dynamic should work, Maomao will hold power over him in turn (as with actual cats, the question is who is really the master and I think the answer is both)

Cutie Maomao appreciation segue

The panacea is presented here as a bit of a segue itself and to show Maomao's enthusiasm + passion + dedication to medicine and experimentation, but it always feels like a weighted thing to drop, like it will be important later, at least symbolically/metaphorically. Perhaps it also works as the perfect intersection of Maomao's care for others + thirst for knowledge/curiosity.

Mini Maomao! A reminder of how petite she is and how that works along with her status (as a visual representation of it in contrast with characters higher up who tower over her). Another way she appears unassuming and is underestimated.

(also–yay Gaoshun is here!!)

In terms of Jinshi using Maomao vs Maomao using Jinshi– Jinshi's status enables Maomao access and freedom (that she wouldn't normally be afforded in her position and situation) through her connection to him. She is able to do work she enjoys and indulge her curiosities because of him.

Circling back to what I said earlier about how Maomao can seem subdued but is extremely expressive when it comes to what she is passionate about. And it actually goes beyond her facial expressions, her whole body is invigorated and taken over XD

Her blushing expression and body position at the top of that second page almost resembles a girl in love lol

It is an interesting adaptational choice to make Jinshi's expression kind of an unamused frown here–I wonder what to make of it. (We get it described as "He watched her with a mixture of curiosity and sheer bewilderment" in the light novel). Especially as it presents Maomao in a different light than he has seen her in so far.

It feels like Maomao is almost actively seeking reasons to criticize and dislike Jinshi (to justify the instinctual bad vibes she gets? And going off the fake-ness she picks up on. This can also demonstrate a general dislike of people in high positions and the behavior their status affords them) but also this moment illustrates her appreciation for hard work and competence. Not that Jinshi is doing anything admirable here, it is just that Maomao seems determined to (understandably) see the worst in him/leans into bad faith interpretations of his actions.

Paper and ice–I call this the collection of planting seeds for future storylines and topics. I love how we're given information that will be relevant later in a way that feels natural and factors into the world-building.

Things to add to Maomao's list of skills XD

Okay Miss Maomao getting distracted on the job! More of her getting invigorated by her passions and how they can take over her mind and focus. But also amusing considering her criticisms of Jinshi "having too much free time" (yes, she still washed the dishes and did work, but her attention was diverted and she lost track of time)

More of Maomao's skill set and add alcohol to the list of seeds for the future (and lol @ everyone's reactions to her late night snack plans "what weird shit is this girl into?")

"Alcohol can be categorized as a type of medicine. The more sensitive a person is to a particular drug, the greater the impact." Not just a seed but add it to the pile of potential poison/medicine symbolism

More lol @ Maomao. I said her upbringing in the pleasure district serves her well in the rear palace, but it (in addition to her apothecary background) also give her a unique and potentially off-putting outlook. This whole scenario can go to show how in spite of her regard for propriety, Maomao doesn't always behave how she "should."

More of how Maomao frames Jinshi–"anyone would be attracted to him but to me, he is a worm." Does Maomao's familiarity with beauty make it somewhat ineffective on her? She makes the connection here about how Jinshi's beauty could be a burden (or not just harmful to others but to himself).

I also enjoy how a blushing Jinshi is described as being enough "to make anyone lose their head" when Maomao often says she does things/follows orders because she wants to keep her head attached to her body (aka not be executed).

Jinshi's attractiveness to both men and women is both a nod to varying sexualities and how he in a way transcends a binary understanding of gender presentation. I think it is interesting how Maomao is so blunt and matter-of-fact about people's attraction, to Jinshi and in general.

Similarly, I love this (repeated) matter-of-fact outlook on aphrodisiacs and pleasure from Maomao (it is almost non-judgmental but also emphasizes safety).

Alright, guess who used too many images and so has to continue this post elsewhere for the very end of the chapter...