#and i want to carry that kindness instead of all this misery people keep trying to shove onto me

[aesethewitch]

Personal Protection: Surviving the Holidays

I'm of the opinion that far too many people around this time of year are fucking around, and it's high time they get to the finding out part. With major holidays right around the corner, many of us will be facing relatives we'd rather not see, parties we'd rather not go to, and conversations we'd rather avoid or exit as soon as possible. Political spats, unwanted opinions, snide remarks -- I believe that what you give out, you ought to receive back.

So, obviously, let's do some magic about it.

There are three main components to my method:

The Bubble;

The Quills; and

The Shake

The Bubble

Exactly what it sounds like, "the bubble" is the outermost layer of protection around you. It's the barrier between you and the unpleasantness you're trying to keep out.

The bubble can be one item carried or worn (such as a hat, crystal, or charm), or it can be multiple. I usually spring for two items, one to absorb/recycle and one to bounce/return to sender.

Absorb:

I've got a relative who is, at their essence, a fucking downer. That would be fine if not for the fact that if they're having a bad time or are mildly uncomfortable, it's about to be everyone's problem. This kind of negativity is something to absorb, not bounce. Sending it back would only double their misery, and that's no good for anyone.

So, instead, I have a special charm that I make for occasions when I know they're going to be around. It consists of a little piece of sponge that's sat in salt for a while atop a transformative sigil. The sponge, once fully charged and ready, will absorb the negative energy and recycle it into more positive feelings.

This means that their negativity won't impact me at all, and I actively improve the atmosphere. Their bad attitude can't do anything if everyone around us is only getting good vibes. The charm is powered by the exchange of negative to positive energy, so it requires no charging. However, it's smart to discard the sponge once it's done its job.

Bounce:

But sometimes, somebody's got to face real consequences. There are some things I don't want to deal with at all. Like gross political opinions from my conservative, religious family members. Or questions about having children.

The idea of the bounce is to reflect things before they reach me. It's a sort of glamor spell that projects an aura of "don't bother." It essentially lets me be passed over for conversations I want to leave or avoid entirely by bouncing attention away from me.

Negative energy, bad vibes, whatever you want to call it -- the goal is to return it to where it's coming from. Someone who's being an asshole will feel like an asshole. If it works right, they'll stop talking altogether because they're so irritated with what they're saying. I've had aggressive, vocal relatives go completely silent because they were receiving their own rancid energy back to themselves instead of the attention they were hoping for.

For me, this spell takes the form of a charm on my keys. It's a form of an evil eye charm -- not the blue-eyed stare you most likely think of, but another symbol meant to distract attention from me to it. It's a little pewter casting of the fig sign, an old and obscene gesture. It works on malevolent spirits best, but it does a great job of repelling unfortunate people, too. It bounces their nonsense back to themselves, often causing confusion, which forces them to reconsider what they're saying.

Again, this lives on my keys, which live in a key bowl when they're not clipped to my pocket or belt loop. The key bowl has a multi-purpose charging setup for the keys, my wallet, and other assorted charms I might wear when I go out.

The Quills

Sometimes, things get past our main line of defenses. That's fine, it happens. But under these circumstances, it happens because someone has deliberately crossed a line. So now, they get the quills.

When I say "the quills," you should be picturing something like a porcupine. Adorable, yes, but fuck with it at your own risk. Those quills aren't just for show, and neither should yours be. This is your second line of defense, and it's where we turn to offense.

Accordingly, the quills aren't passive spells like the bubble. These require conscious activation and direction to give you maximum control over their output. You can make your quills passive, but I often find that baneful workings work best when you're specifically choosing to use them.

Yes, baneful, and let me be perfectly clear: The goal is to harm whoever's crossed the line. You're not just returning to sender. You're catching what they've thrown at you, lighting it on fire, and pitching it back at full force.

To that end, there are two approaches I typically take (and are you sensing a pattern? I like to do things in twos). One spell to sharpen the tongue and give as good as I've gotten, and one to induce the smallest of lingering curses on the target.

Sharpen

The whole point of the quills is to make yourself an inconvenient, difficult target. Part of being difficult to swallow is not going down easily. Often, the answer is to avoid the conversation or problem altogether, but it isn't always possible. Or satisfying.

Sometimes, you gotta take a bitch down.

For me, this charm needs to do two things. It should boost my confidence in standing my ground and add some oomph to my argument. I have a pin with a particular design on it charmed for this purpose. The needle operates as the quill for stabbing (the oomph), and the design provides the confidence. Anointed with my Fuck Off Oil and laid in a dish of salt, garlic, and red chili flakes, the pin becomes extra spicy and effective.

This one has to be recharged each time it's used. It always lives on the same jacket, but I'll anoint it regularly to keep it fresh. If I use the charm on someone, I'll take the pin off at the end of the night and set it in the spicy salt mixture.

Linger

By far one of the most effective methods for reducing nonsense from unpleasant people I interact with regularly is lingering consequences. When someone associates bad luck with interacting with you, even on a subconscious level, they tend to avoid you.

Consider this the "slow poison" on the quills. The goal isn't to ruin their life by any means (although, I suppose you could...). It's just to make yourself unpalatable on an instinctive level. Think of how poisonous frogs are brightly colored to display that they're, you know, deadly. That's what we're doing here.

I prefer to use something kind of dangerous. Something you can hold onto and point with is best, in my experience. I've used a broken piece of glass, a rusty nail or screw, and various thorns. Right now, I'm using one half of a rusty pair of old cooking shears. The handle broke, but the blades are still sharp as hell. Waste not, and all that.

Anoint whatever the sharp, dangerous thing is in an oil infused with herbs and spices of your choice (again, the Fuck Off Oil is a good example). Or, if you prefer, coat it in something like hot sauce, urine, rust, or other corrosive and unpleasant things. Once prepared, stow it in your bag. Or your glove box, if you drive, since this makes a nice on-the-go curse to cast at shitty drivers.

You don't need to pull it out for it to work, but if you can get to a safe, secluded space (like a bathroom), it can help you focus. When you're creating it, you should set up an activation word, phrase, or motion. I prefer a motion -- something like tapping wherever the object is, a swirling movement with my hand, and then pointing at the target.

The curse you place is up to you. I tend to go for something like feeling nauseous or getting a headache. The spell should draw a connection between them being nasty to you and the unpleasant feeling, whether overt or subconscious. They'll be more cautious and reluctant to be a dick to you afterwards.

The Shake

Like a dog. Get that shit off of yourself.

No matter how thorough you are, there are always gaps and particularly stubborn people getting into them. Something they say just sticks to you like a burr, sharp and irritating. Or depressing, maybe.

The idea behind the shake is literal. You're forcibly removing the heavy weight or annoying itch someone else has placed on you. The shake isn't necessarily an item like with the bubble and quills. It can be, but it doesn't have to be.

Essentially, the steps to the shake are:

Identify what feels bad

Shake that shit

Resume normal activities

Maybe it's the neurodivergent in me, but physical movement is incredibly soothing. Self-regulation tactics are essential for survival. Transforming that into a little spell ritual at the same time is just two birds with one stone.

When things get overwhelming or I can feel my bubble failing to keep everything out at once (such as if a fight breaks out or someone decides to go in depth about one of my triggers), I remove myself from the situation. That's the first step. Retreat to a safe place, whether that's outside, in my car, in the bathroom, or elsewhere that's quiet. The second step is to figure out where in my body the anxiety or bad feeling is sitting. Often, it's in my shoulders and hands, but sometimes it's elsewhere.

Step three is to fucking shake. Shake those hands, roll my shoulders, jump up and down. Whatever it takes. As I do, I'm forcibly dislodging everything unpleasant out of myself and into the open air. And because I've got the negativity-absorbing bubble, it'll take the bad feeling and repurpose it into something more positive. Then, once I'm better, I can go back.

Again, you don't need an object for this, but you can certainly create one. Options would be comforting items, fidget toys, or even something like a joint. Sometimes, you just gotta blow smoke about it. You know?

Fun fact, though: You could also carry a vessel to contain the Bad Feelings for later use instead of letting your bubble absorb them. This comes in handy for people who are particularly abusive... as an example of what you want them to experience under the force of a more involved cursing.

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[roxineedstosleep]

Hello!

I wanted to request a yan! platonic batfamily with a reader who gets ignored in their real family so they usually spend their time causing trouble around Gotham.

Well… as it was not specified whether it was one shot or headcanon. I'll do a headcanon (sorry if it wasn't what you wanted).

*****************************************

Bruce and Alfred are too used to the idea of neglectful fathers. Jason, Tim and Steph's father ring a bell?

So, if you cause minor problems like shoplifting, speeding down the track, getting in trouble during a protest or some minor charge, I really feel they would let you get away with some of it the first few times.

You're not an immediate risk like the Joker or Deathshot. you're just a minor criminal. But if it's the 15th time you've been taken to the police station, and the 15th time your parents have stood you up there… let's just say you catch their interest.

Even more so if they see that even the precinct officers themselves treat you so casually. They call you by nicknames, give you little scoldings, help you with your injuries and keep you in a cell away from the other criminals; real Gotham criminals.

Hell, you even had a nice poster of your favourite band in your cell!

I can tell you for a fact that Jason almost broke his helmet mouthpiece when he saw how one of the detectives brought you a little minicake from the vending machine to sing you a birthday song along with the staff on duty. But only to get yelled at and threatened by your parents when you were taken out a few hours later.

How could they do that?

Damian would even rethink his new teachings when he saw how the other criminals in town were better at guiding you than your own parents. What kind of parent leaves their own offspring in the middle of winter with nothing but slippers? No wonder you had to steal some coats and proper shoes. Not to mention stealing some hats and blankets for the homeless people who gave you shelter that night.

You where their blood, why?

Dick would definitely stop you from doing anything if he could, they left you without food or anything to buy? he'd sure give you his cereal bars and some snacks he carries with him so you wouldn't have to steal the junk from any shops.

You were so young!

Tim was surprised to discover that the police records of all the precincts had more photos of you and better medical records than the hospital where you were born. You had almost no medical records. But there wasn't much CPS could do for you either. It was either those horrid creatures for parents, or an overcrowded foster home that would send you to the first bad-ass correctional facility.

They treath you like a plastic bag... how?

Bruce was furious. And he thought he was a bad father… well, you had your terrible mistakes, but he never thought he'd do that to any of his kids. How could they do that to you?

How they dare?

Then it just happened.

Another arrest, but instead of listening to your parents' screams and insults, Bruce Wayne comes in and asks them to get you out of there.

It all happens so fast… or it's all SO bizarre that you just let a stranger drive you away in one of his many expensive cars. He takes you to a mansion, puts you in a room, the only butler almost feeds you in your mouth and a group of 4 boys come in to hug and cuddle you.

You don't react at all. why do you suddenly get so much love all at once? you don't move. you basically live in vegetable form for a few days until you want to walk out the door and you find that you can't. you don't move.

You try again, but nothing.

And when you want to ask how to get out of there, everyone treats you like a fool and tries to distract you with other activities.

Basically they treat you like a stray cat that has to be locked in the house to become a house cat. And they don't plan to let you go until you fulfil that role.

Why go out on the street and live in misery if you can be happy and warm with them?

[genderqueerdykes]

Hey I was just wondering as a person with hyperandrogenism, could you elaborate more about people who take T to help with it? I want to transition at some point and I've been looking everywhere for information on what going on T would be like for somebody with PCOS.

*CLAPS* you came to the right blog and i'm SO GLAD I CAN HELP SOMEONE ELSE WITH THIS!!!!!

i was diagnosed with hyperandrogenism and PCOS at the age of 15 because i was having such heavy menstrual periods that i literally had to stay home from school because i had to change my pad every 45 minutes or so. they forced me on to hormonal birth control instead of presenting me with the option of testosterone hormone replacement therapy and to this day, i am angry at those doctors for not realizing they could've given me the choice, because they could've spared me from a lot of misery in my teen years.

i had been naturally growing a full beard with no outside help since i started puberty, and it was a nightmare for everyone BUT me because everyone else found it threatening. my mother made me put Nair on my face (that chemical stuff you use to burn the hair off your legs- no, you're not supposed to put it on your face and they did Not make the kind for your face back then.) to get rid of it because it freaked her out so bad, quote, "everyone will make fun of you and you'll get called a dyke and butch and a lezzie and a man and it'll be embarrassing, and then they'll think I'm all of those things, too." Mental gymnastics olympic gold winner, My Mom, everyone.

i wanted to just keep my facial hair, but my mother was obsessed with keeping me a Presentable Girl while everyone else in my school, once they saw the beard, went. oh, it's a guy. and interpreted me in the polar opposite direction. they started relentlessly telling me things like "you're not a girl" "you can't be a girl" "it doesn't matter if you carry a purse or wear makeup you're not a real girl" because they saw my life from the outside and were now under the impression that i was "a guy trying to be a girl," while my mom was trying to prevent me from being "a girl who everyone thinks is a guy".

needless to say, this caused a lot of frustration and confusion in me, because i just wanted to go with what my body was doing, and i found that i was naturally very masculine and butch and let me tell you, starting testosterone was incredible. it was like i picked up from where puberty left off! i finally felt myself evolving into who i was meant to be, i swear, because it felt like i was a half complete person until i started taking T.

my voice dropped very quickly, i was getting voice cracks and croaky tones very early on, within the first 3 months or so. my facial hair took a while for it to stop being patchy, while i was growing a full beard, my mustache was very thin, and there was some hair that didn't grow in small patches, probably due to the years of aggressive chemicals damaging my face. i started growing very thick, bushy, noticeable chest hair very quickly as well, as well as thickened and darkened arm, back and belly hair.

i was a greaseball for a while and that was somewhat unpleasant- i think for about a month after i started i was extremely greasy, i noticed this because i had already been working out at the gym beforehand and i was suddenly. very. sweaty and slimy all of a sudden. honestly it gave me euphoria when i realized it though because i went "oh my god... the T is working!!!" it's the little things that give you Masculine Joy

my face got very sharp and angular very quickly, my cheekbones became way more noticeable and my jaw became a lot more streamline and sharp. i used to have a somewhat round face but now i have barely any fat on my face at all. after a long time on T, my mustache finally grows in fully! though it's still kinda hard to see, but it finally isn't just in the corners of my lips <3

i did have a period of a few months in the beginning where i was very emotional, i wouldn't say i was simply JUST angry. i was more passionate than normal, and it was easy for me to laugh or cry really hard, or sometimes be more irritable than normal due to being more sensitive in general.

Bottom growth happened very quickly and intensely, ive been told by several transmasc partners that i'm one of the biggest they've been with, so i would say you're likely to get fairly substantial bottom growth if you have PCOS or hyperandrogenism. =) it seems that area really takes to the extra testosterone and goes nuts with it! be warned, it will be extremely extremely sensitive to touch while bottom growth is occurring, like even seams in your pants can be uncomfortable, so go easy on yourself. i have never dealt with vaginal dryness or atrophy, btw, so i can't comment on anything like that.

hope that gave you a picture of what it was like for me, personally =) every person w/ PCOS and hyperandrogenism is different, but i'm really glad i could help provide a resource that is difficult to find! for many of us, those of us who have naturally high testosterone love and WANT what it does to our body, and we should be able to get to control how much T goes on in our body- that includes getting the option to increase it.

[inuhiime]

:: 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ! ──── ⪩⪨ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓

' if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name '

' was i abandoned because i'm cursed, or is it the way i've been treated in life that has cursed me? '

' a journey will reach its end in due time, no need to panic '

' i don't want to turn back now '

' i just hope no one shows up to bother me... if they do, i'll just make them disappear '

' i will be here when you call '

' the best we can do is to let go '

' place your trust in the wrong person, and it can quite literally cost you your life '

' should any threats come near, i will lend you a hand '

' i need you to go with me. it's the only way i can cope with so many people '

' lonely? no way '

' from here onward, may your journey be free from confusion that clouds your mind and obstacles that block your path '

' sometimes, hopes and dreams bring suffering instead of happiness '

' i will always seek to protect the things that are most important, no matter what it takes '

' do you still have dreams? tell me about them '

' liven up, it's time to set out '

' i guarantee you'll never meet anyone who's as infuriating as him '

' we're wasting time. let's go '

' it was a short life they lived, but it was by no means a wasted one '

' i don't understand what they mean. please explain this to me '

' no one has the right to rob another of their hopes and dreams-- not even a god '

' do not fall prey to the darkness '

' there are only two kinds of things in this world : those that must be done, and those that must not be done '

' the old friends i passed time with are already gone '

' i'm only joking. i don't delight in others' misery '

' forget it, it means nothing to me '

' i'm willing to protect you, but don't think about getting close '

' don't worry-- even if the day comes for us to go our separate ways, i am certain that we will meet again '

' if you want no trouble, stay away from me '

' i'm not trying to save the world, so if i wipe out some evil presence and it happens to benefit you, don't thank me '

' i don't really like people who are too smart '

' what else could you possibly want to hear from me? '

' i am prone to bring harm to the people around me '

' see me as a weapon, and nothing more '

' the fear of losing the people most important to me, and the desire to save them... this kind of feeling makes my heart ache '

' this is my burden to carry. it has nothing to do with you '

' if you understand what that means to me, please stay by my side '

' you sometimes slack off too, huh? '

' oh? you're concerned about all the rumors you've heard about me? '

'if you remember me, i'll live forever '

' there's always danger lurking in the night, so whatever you do, keep your guard up '

' you have placed your trust in me, and of course i will not let you down '

' i'll be taking some time for myself now. goodbye '

' sleep soundly, and know that i am watching over you '

' we are a people whose god is no longer with us '

' well, hand over your friendship certificate. i assume it'll need my signature '

' come on, do something amusing for me '

' that's just the way of the world... no one can have everything '

' i suppose this is the new way of life, then. i'm not going to complain '

' seems like even in my dreams, there are things that i can't control '

[mothersquishy]

A Letter To The Past

When I was asked what I’d say to my younger myself I was caught off guard

So many emotions bubbled up, out of my eyes, puddle of tears collecting on my lap

How do I tell such a young, hopeful, child that it didn’t get better?

That she just learned how to handle it instead?

How am I supposed to tell her that her found family will dissipate causing a deep hollowing pain in her heart, never filling but never growing, always there?

That her first love was never capable of loving her back?

That she hurt her best friend so deeply he had to cut her out of his life?

That her kind heart was used against her, ripping away her innocents on prom night?

That she stayed silent, hearing of another girl attacked by the same man?

How do you expect me to tell her that her next love, the one she saw such a bright future with

The one she built a family with

That she’ll shatter the very heart she swore to love for all eternity?

How do I hug a child that’s so broken and brittle that just touching her will cause her to crumble to dust?

How am I supposed to comfort a child that is so far gone in misery and pain and heartache

That she couldn’t possibly return to person she used to be

Because that person never existed?

How do I hold her tight against my chest, crying and screaming lies that did get better when it didn’t?

That there was no way we could repent for the wrongs we’ve done to others?

How am I to tell her

That she will forever be dreaming of her grief

Woken up night after night

Tears pooling in her ears?

That she is so utterly demolished that she had no choice but to pick up all of what’s left of her

The sharp points that dig cuts deep into her hands

And forge a cage around her heart that hurts everyone who goes near?

That her tears will turn to rage

The hate will fester, becoming one with her soul?

That she’ll become a demon in order to protect herself?

That even after all the years of abuse, depression, hurt, and heartache

She’ll still keep the door open to her heart

Like a foolish child?

That the very hope she so stubbornly holds on to

Is the very thing that causes her the most wounds?

I couldn’t

I wouldn’t

I look at her, tears slipping out of her eyes at the sight of scars all over my body

Caused by her very hands

I kneel down, leveled with the small hurting child

And open my arms to her

I tell her that her childhood best friend is still in her life, antics still there

That her and mother will become close finally

That her broken family is trying so desperately to fix themselves

That she’ll have the most wonderful kids, hearts so pure, hearts so full of love

That she changed the lives of people, saving them when their fingers were on the trigger

I hold her, tears spilling out my wounded soul and tell her

That her heart is so big, so caring, it hurts to look at

That she is so very worthy of love, someone you can’t help falling in love with

That all the pain and hurt she carries deep in her chest will lessen with time

And that it’ll all be worth it in the end

That she’ll open her heart so wide, taking the secrets of strangers

Wiping away tears from the very ones who caused her harm

Understanding that they too, caged their hearts in thorns

That she’ll suffer, and scream, and cry, and beg for an end she doesn’t want

Because she is alive

Because she has felt everything time and time again

And to live is to feel-

Feel so deeply it rips you apart

Like a flower in bloom

I’ll wipe away her tears

Help her pick up the pieces

And bask in the warmth of our hopes and dreams

Because she is me

And I am her

And our hearts are one.

[disposablelimb]

if i were a better poet i'd write about how my aunts decorate the house with fake flowers and fake pinecones and rustic landscape paintings and their favorite wax melts carry pictures of the sunrise over a wild field or a calm teal beach at midday yet they hate the smell of the outside so they never spend any time in the yard (besides mowing because the lawn must be mowed before a single dandelion grows) and if a real leaf or a real piece of dirt or a real insect appears indoors it's a small scandal. i'd imagine their misery being born in a place like West Virginia, which is all rural countryside, and the countless hours they spent roaming the hills because their mother, my grandmother, like them was obsessed with keeping a "tidy home" and children, like nature, are antithetical to this, so she wouldn't let them inside until nightfall. i'd consider what it means that we otherize and commodify nature at the same time, repackaging the tangible and the real into little knock-offs that were manufactured in a prison or might-as-well-be to let people like them pretend that they love nature and they think the earth is beautiful while maligning every actual thing about our planet. i'd be sad, because everything their parents did to them they've just passed on to me, whether or not they think they were doing better, and absolutely nothing has been fixed.

instead i recall the times when i was a small child, even well into teenagerhood, when i wanted to go outside and they gave a snide look and said "no; you'll get dirty."

i love the smell of the sun, the sound of frogs coming through my open window, the way wind prickles every hair on my arms, but despite this i barely spend any time outside myself, because i feel like i'm being watched and judged. it's so unbearable that i stopped going for walks around the neighborhood after a few days of trying to make it a habit. so i claw for every inch of outside i can stand to have, and personally, i kind of think fake pinecones are just tacky.

[themonstermatch]

A Beastly Friend (male orc x female reader)

POV: you're a princess longing to know what life is like outside the castle walls. You meet an interesting character down in the dungeons, and you have more in common with him than you expected...

"I told you to stay away from the dungeons. The orc down there is a prisoner, not a friend. He's dangerous. Far too dangerous for a young lady like you." The guard stares down his nose at you and sneers. "And what would your father say about that?"

Your jaw tightens as you grit your teeth together. Your fists clench at your sides. "He'd tell you to stop wasting time with stupid questions and get back to work."

You stand there, staring each other down for a few more moments, then he straightens. "Regardless of your...extracurricular activities...you will be expected at dinner tonight." He looks you up and down meaningfully. "In clean clothes this time."

"Of course." You give him your sweetest smile, your deepest curtsy. Maybe he would get the message and leave you alone.

Instead, he chuckles under his breath and turns away. "Enjoy your day, Princess," he calls over his shoulder as he heads back into the castle proper.

You watch him go, eyes burning in anger. As much as it pains you to admit it, he’s right. Even though you know better than anyone how bad things could get if you go near the dark corners of the castle.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t still sneak off for a little fun every now and again.

You sigh and kick at a pebble on the ground. Fun. That thing you’re not allowed to have. A shiver runs through you. What will happen when Father discovers you went to see that poor orc?

He didn't seem too bad, really. Misunderstood, maybe. But wasn't part of a leader’s job to understand and make connections with other people? To know their hearts and minds so they could lead them properly?

If only your father would try harder. If only he would listen to you. Then you wouldn't have all these problems. The king wouldn't need to lock up monsters like him just because they didn’t fit into the world.

But of course, you are just a woman. Not even the first born, either. You have no clout. No power. Nothing but a useless title and this gilded cage. So why do you feel guilty for wanting something else? Something forbidden. Why do you want to help that monster out of his misery? Because deep down inside, you want to break free. Want to know what it’s like outside the castle walls.

And if you can’t leave yourself, maybe you could help the mysterious prisoner.

***

The sound of heavy footfalls echoes throughout the stone corridor as you creep forward, making sure to keep to the shadows. The clanking metal of chains and manacles scrapes against the wall as you pass by.

Jeers and catcalls ring from the other occupied cells, but you ignore them. This one was different. He was quiet. Unmoving. And he smelled…strange. Like some kind of animal.

You peek around the corner, keeping low to avoid being seen. Peering through the bars of the cell door, you can see the dim light of a torch flickering on the opposite side.

A guard walks past, carrying another torch. It lights up the whole room for a moment before disappearing down the hall once more. In that brief flash of light, you catch sight of the prisoner hunched over in his chains. His face is covered with scars and long black hair hangs down to cover his eyes. Pointed ears poke out from his tangled mane, pierced with metal rings. Sharp ivory tusks jut upward from his wide jaw.

Broad shoulders hunch over as he stares at the damp stone floor. But then he notices you, and it’s the look in those wild, yellow eyes that stops you cold. They are filled with pain. With hopelessness.

He looks like he’s starving. Starving for freedom. For food. For anything.

You swallow hard. “Are you hungry?” You reach into your sack and pull out a small hunk of bread.

He grunts in reply, his voice raspy and raw.

You reach out a hand through the bars, trying to calm him. “I brought you some bread. Just hold still. You can trust me. I won't hurt you.”

His head snaps up suddenly, catching you completely off guard. Those wild eyes lock onto yours, glowing bright in the darkness.

You stumble backwards, almost falling into the wall behind you. Your heart pounds in your chest. Goosebumps rise on your arms as you try to scramble away.

But he’s faster than you expect. Before you know what’s happening, he lunges at the bars.

Before you can do anything, he shoves his massive arms through the gap and grabs you by the throat.

You scream as he lifts you off the ground, squeezing you so tightly you can’t breathe. You claw at his arm, but he’s too strong. Too fast.

You thrash wildly, kicking at his legs. He doesn’t budge. You cough and wheeze, your vision growing blurry. You can hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel your pulse racing in your neck.

You are going to die.

No!

You pry your eyes open, forcing your gaze to meet his.

"Stop!" You command as loudly and as clearly as you can. It comes out as more of a raspy cough, but it’s something. You don’t even know if he can understand you, but you have to try.

He hesitates for a moment, his grip loosening slightly.

"Let me go!" You plead, gasping for air. "I'm here to help you. I brought you bread!"

The big brute growls, lowering his head to sniff at you. His hot breath washes over you, and to your surprise it doesn’t smell half bad. You’d expected some putrid odor like rotting garbage, but what you got instead was a strong earthy, herbal scent. Like a bitter tea or a crushed bark.

His wide mouth struggles to make sounds you can understand. "...who." That’s the only word you can make out.

"Me. I'm Princess Y/N.” You choke out the words between breaths. "I want to help you." You point to the bread, which lays forgotten on the ground. "Help. Food."

He follows your gaze, copying the movement. "Food."

You nod, hoping he understands.

Slowly, he lowers you to the floor. You gasp for breath as you scramble away.

He eyes you warily, then crouches down and picks up the loaf of bread. The orc sniffs it, then he looks at you again. "Food."

You nod. This time you make a motion of moving your hand toward your mouth. "Food. You can eat it."

He tilts his head to the side, considering. He sniffs the crust for a moment, then takes a small bite. He chews slowly, face creased in concentration.

Then he eats the rest of the bread, wolfing it down in three large bites. When he finishes, he licks his lips clean, then looks back up at you expectantly.

"Food?"

You hold out your empty hands. "No more. No more food."

He frowns, but seems to get the message. With a groan, he sits back on his haunches and studies you.

You feel like you should say something, but you’re too nervous. You can’t think of anything. So you just stare back at him, trying to figure out what to do next.

"Who." You try to repeat it the same way he did. This time you point at his chest. "Who are you?"

"Huuuungh." He draws out the word, shaking his head.

You frown. "What does that mean? Who are you?"

He makes the sound again.

"Is that your name?" You ask.

Again, he shakes his head. "Name."

"Yes, your name." You point at his chest again. "Your name is..."

"...Zaku."

You blink. It has a nice ring to it. "You are Zaku?"

"Zaku." He repeats it, making the strange sounds.

"Okay, Zaku." You smile. "It's nice to meet you."

He grunts in response. Zaku's ears twitch, and his eyes widen. "Go," he hisses suddenly. "Bad."

While you are still trying to understand his words, sharp footsteps echo down the corridor. Your breath lodges in your throat -- oh no! You can’t get caught! You spin around and take flight, running as fast as you can back the way you came.

They were still far enough away that maybe they didn’t see you. It’s dark in here, and they’re just doing their rounds. That has to be it. That's what you have to tell yourself, anyway, to keep the panic from taking over. You duck into a narrow side passage and press yourself against the wall, waiting. After a few minutes, the guards continue down the hallway. You stay frozen in place until they disappear completely. Only then do you dare to breathe again.

You let out a shaky sigh and lean your forehead against the cool stone wall. That was a close one. Too close. And if you get caught down here again, they’ll probably lock you up in your room. You wince at the thought. No. You can’t let that happen.

So as soon as the guards are out of earshot, you turn and hurry back up the stairs to the surface, leaving all thoughts of the miserable orc behind you. Bitter, angry thoughts pepper your brain as you weave your way back through the little-used halls and passages.

You can’t save him. And it was foolish to think that you could. You are nothing more than a useless princess. A prisoner trapped in your own castle. Nothing more than a puppet, existing only to play a part. As soon as you sneak back into your room and close the door, your shoulders shake with a suppressed sob. The orc -- Zaku, you remember -- is doomed.

And there is nothing you can do about it.

[scuttling]

Daddy's Home

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 3,388 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Oral sex, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Anal sex, Spit kink, Come sharing, Breeding kink, Dirty talk, Aftercare, This is legitimately so filthy Summary: Aaron has been out of town for ten days, and when he finally gets home, you’re both desperate to make up for lost time. *Requested by @arsonhotchner Link to A03 or read below! Aaron has been out of town for ten days. Ten. Days. It’s misery.

You’re usually completely understanding when he has to take a case, because his job is important, and you know you have his undivided attention when he returns. You don’t have children, you’re fine staying by yourself, so most of the time it’s a minor inconvenience—ruined plans here, a postponed date night there—and nothing too pressing. And the sex is always great when he gets back.

This time, it’s different. Three back-to-back cases and a delayed flight later, and he’s finally on his way home. You’ve spoken every night since he left, and he has sounded increasingly more tired, more worn out; you can’t wait to be in his arms, warm and content in bed.

Before that, though, you both have other needs that will have to be met, because you mutually decided not to masturbate while he was gone, and you’re both feeling very... pent up.

Usually, you’d tease him while he was away, texting and sending pictures, maybe a video, all in good fun, but this isn’t the time for sexy texts or teasing or lingerie. You are both desperate, aching for each other, wild with need physically and emotionally; his touch anchors you, your touch anchors him, and right now you are both lost at sea, bobbing offshore, so close but so far away.

He will be home within the hour, so you do what any good girl would do: take a hot bath, prepare your holes, lay down a blanket in front of the door, and kneel on it and wait for Aaron to come home.

You exist to serve him, to please him, to be used by him, to make him feel good—and because making you feel good makes him feel good, you receive everything you give back tenfold. That’s the part most people don’t understand, but you and Aaron are on the same wavelength, always; you know he will need this, and he knows you will need this, and he knows you will be ready for him.

When he opens the door, sees you waiting, pretty and perfect and bare, he exhales, and all the tension leaves his body in a wave of relief. He sets his bags down, takes off his shoes, and then gets down on the blanket with you, presses one very controlled kiss to your mouth.

“Baby girl.” His voice is rough with everything he’s not saying, and you nod, press your forehead against his, because you feel it too.

“Daddy. I want to give you whatever you need,” you tell him, your breath on his lips. “I’m ready for anything, please tell me how I can serve you, daddy.” He swallows hard at your admission, knows exactly what you mean.

“Ready for anything, sweet girl? Turn over and let me see.” You obey—of course you do—and lay flat on your stomach so he can see that you’re wearing your plug properly. It’s not cutesy, just simple black silicone with a ring at the end that he can slip his finger into when it’s time to pull it out; he doesn’t put his finger through it now, just palms your ass, spreads it a little, and admires your handiwork. “Good girl, getting your ass ready for daddy. Do you want me to fuck it?” he asks, leaning in to brush your hair away from your ear. His voice gives you goosebumps, chills.

“I want you to do whatever will please you, daddy.” It’s the right thing to say, and it earns you a slightly harder kiss when he turns you on your back.

“That’s right, sweetheart, you do. Kind, loving girl. You want to please daddy with your body. It’s your purpose.” You lick your lips, and you can feel your eyes getting heavy already.

“Yes, daddy, it’s my purpose. Which hole would you like to fill, daddy?”

“First,” he says, and you wait for more, but it doesn’t come. You furrow your brow, confused, and he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead. “Which hole would I like to fill first.” He guides you to sit up, then puts his strong arms around you, lifts you up and carries you to bed, sets you on the edge. “Tonight, angel, daddy is going to breed you full of come to make up for the last ten days I’ve been away. I’m going to fill your pretty mouth, and then your sweet pussy, and then your tight ass, until I’m leaking out of you. If I’m not done coming by that point, I’ll just keep fucking it into you anyway.”

You whimper. You can’t imagine you’ll be coherent for all of that, but it makes your pussy ache and throb when you think about it. He’s going to be so good to you.

“On your knees, baby.” You slide off the bed, sink to them, and he points to the wall closest to you, the one with the full-length mirror against it. “Over there, back against the wall.” You crawl where he wants you, kneel and wait, and he makes his way over, pulls the mirror up beside you so you’d have to turn your head to look at it.

He unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and pushes them down; you open your mouth, because you always open your mouth when presented with daddy’s cock, and then he puts his hands gently on your head and just says watch.

It’s hard to watch without being able to move your head, and you can’t move your head because he’s slowly pumping into your mouth, but you make sure to keep your eyes on the mirror as best you can. Daddy will understand, as long as you try.

“Oh, fuck. So good for me, sweet girl, watching yourself be used by daddy—does it feel good?”

You press your hands hard against his thighs and moan around his length as it strokes over your tongue, the best you can do when he’s inching his way toward the back of your throat; he knows what you want to say, though, how good it feels to be filled, how you know you’re special because you’re the only person in the world Aaron feels this comfortable with, the only one he’s ever shown this side of himself to.

“Yes, baby. I’m going to come fast, since I’ve been without you for so long; we’ll take a break, and cuddle, and when I’m hard again I’ll come in your pussy. You’re going to be filled up soon, bred full of me, full of babies and come. You earned it, waiting so patiently for me to get home, waiting by the door open and ready.” He moves faster, but less deep, caresses your cheeks to feel the way they hollow and then bulge while he fucks your mouth.

When he comes, you both moan, sounds of pleasure and contentment; you don’t swallow right away, hold his come in your mouth instead, and when he pulls out you lose a little, dribbling down your chin, mixed with spit and clinging to your skin. Aaron gets down on one knee, swipes a thumb over it and licks it away.

“Perfect, messy girl. You can swallow for daddy in one second, but first I want you to open up and show me.” It’s an easy request, one you expected; when he sees your mouth full of him, he groans, exhales, takes your face in his hands and tips your head back so you swallow it. “Good girl. We’ll have to find other ways to keep your mouth full throughout the night; I’ll think of something.”

He helps you to your feet, slides the mirror against the wall, and lays you back on the bed while he takes off the rest of his clothes; watching him undress is soothing, when you’re so worked up, the slip and slide of fabric over his skin. He climbs on top of you, solid and warm, and wraps his arms around you, tips you both so you’re laying on your sides.

“I missed you so, so much.” You breathe against his lips, hands skimming up the length of his back. “Being without you for that long is torture.” He smiles softly, kisses your mouth.

“Unfortunately, I was responsible for stopping some actual torture, but I agree. It was extremely difficult, and I’d be happy to never do that again.” He kisses you some more, soft and sensual slides of tongue, brings his hand between your thighs and teases you where you’re slick and hot. “Not going to stop touching you for the next three days, okay?”

“Perfect,” you sigh, curling your leg over his hip to give him more room, and he presses two fingers inside you, moves his other broad palm to your ass and squeezes.

“Such a good girl, soft and wet for me. I can’t wait to sink inside you, fill you up so deep, come right in your womb.” You grip his hair tightly, get close for kisses, panting, and he thrusts his fingers more quickly inside you, then moves the hand on your ass to wiggle the plug a little.

“Oh, fuck. Daddy please.” It’s impossible to say what feels better; when you’ve gone without him, without an orgasm, for ten days, every sensation is so heightened. Your whole body is alight with pleasure. “Please can I come, please make me come.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ll make you come. Daddy will take care of you; don’t I always?” He gets his arm around your waist, urges you to scoot up a bit, then moves his hand to the plug again, slowly removes it, replaces it with two fingers.

The sounds you make while he fucks you with both hands are a breathless combination of whimpers and moans; your body doesn’t know how to react, wants to press against both. You wrap your arms around his back, digging your nails into his skin, and he constantly alternates between shushing you and kissing you until you come trembling against his hands.

“Mmm, god, daddy.” You nuzzle against his throat, his cheek, delighting in the scrape of his five o’clock shadow against your face, and he whispers your name, presses his lips to your shoulder. When you reach a hand down, he is hard against his stomach, and you pull back to look into his eyes. “What next, daddy?”

“Hmm. Think I want you with your ass up high while I pound into your pussy; it’s so wet for me now, I can’t resist.” He slides his fingers out, presses the plug back into your ass, moves away from you so you can get into the position he wants; he reaches forward for a pillow and puts it under your head with a caress, and you wrap your arms around it, get comfortable. It probably won’t take long for him to spill inside you, but your eyes are heavy, and you’re hot all over, and you just want to lay still and be used. Luckily for you, that’s exactly what he’s looking for.

You’re at the foot of the bed, hips up high, feet sticking out over the edge, and Aaron comes up to stand behind you, puts his hands on your ass, and thrusts fully inside.

“Yes, baby, good baby girl. You feel so good. Won’t be long before I come, and you’ll be sloppy for me, leaking. You have to try to keep it inside for me, I’ll help you; if you want to be full of my babies, you’ll have to keep it inside.”

His body is hard against your ass as he slams in again and again, filling you just right, making your toes curl; you moan into your pillow, clutch it tightly as he praises you, endless compliments about your pretty, wet pussy and how good your ass feels in his hands.

“Thank you, daddy, I’m happy it-it pleases you, daddy.” He moves faster, digs his fingers into your flesh, humps his hips hard, and you whine, moan his name, start bucking your hips back. “Oh, please, please, breed me, daddy. Fill me with babies, so close, daddy.” He groans, takes one hand off of you and hooks his finger around the plug again, pulls it out just to lean in and spit on your hole. It shouldn’t be that sexy, but it makes your eyes roll back with pleasure, and you abandon your pillow to get your hands underneath you, on your breasts, squeezing roughly while he fucks you and rubs the pad of his thumb through his saliva.

“That’s it, baby, come for me. My perfect slut, getting all of her holes filled by daddy tonight. Come on this cock, baby girl, for daddy.” You don’t need to be told twice, as he slams into you so hard your ass shakes, as he presses a finger into you where you’re slick with his spit, and you come just before he does, loud and frantic. You like to think it’s his name on your lips that brings him over the edge, and he presses forward, his body flush against yours, and fills you with his come.

You are a panting, sweating mess after that, and he is, too. He pulls out carefully, rolls you onto your back, and grabs another pillow, puts it under you so your hips are tilted up. He climbs up between your legs, lays on your body, and you don’t even mind how hot his skin feels, you just want to touch him, stay covered by him.

“Oh, love you daddy,” you murmur, and you drape your hands over him; it’s all you have the energy for. He kisses your cheek, your neck, soft and slow.

“I love you, sweet girl. You can rest a moment. Do you want anything? Water or a blanket or a snack?”

“Hmm, no, I’m okay for now… Except my mouth is empty, daddy,” you say with a pout, and he kisses it, then presses two fingers into your mouth to open it up.

“Good girl, that’s right. I promised I’d think of something; stay still.” He moves down your body, kissing gentle and wet as he goes, and then he ducks between your thighs and licks your opening, curls his tongue inside. You groan, not just at the feeling, but at the implication: a mix of both of your come, from your pussy to his mouth, on the way up to yours—it’s a wonder you don’t pass out.

He kisses you, sloppy and deep, his tongue slipping against yours so you can taste everything, then adds some spit for good measure; there’s no shortage of it, they way you’re kissing, and when he pulls back you sink against the pillows, too tired to hold your head up.

He rests his head between your breasts, listens to your heartbeat and runs his hand up and down your body; it’s warm and comfortable, and you’d drift to sleep, you almost do, but you remember there’s one thing left, and you make a soft sound in your throat. Aaron peers up at you, touches your face, and you press against his palm.

“Ready for more, daddy. Are you?” You lick your lips and he shifts up onto his knees—yes, he’s ready, cock hard and thick for you—and he gets his hands under your hips, pulls you closer, eases the plug out.

You prepared yourself well, but will need more lube for him to fit comfortably, and he climbs off the bed and reaches for it on the bedside table where you left it. He leans in for a few warm kisses, then gets back on his knees on the bed, works a few thick, wet fingers into you, then slicks up his cock and presses that slowly inside.

“Oh god, hmm, yeah.” It feels good, but so snug, and he pumps easy and shallow so you can get used to having him there. He rubs a thumb gently over your wet, spent pussy, lovingly between the lips, and you reach down to hold yourself open, to make it a little easier on you both.

“Perfect, angel. So tight for me; it barely fits, but we make it work, don’t we, sweetheart?” You nibble your bottom lip, nod, breathe, because being tense only makes it worse and it feels so good when you let it. “I’m the only one who’s ever been here, aren’t I? I’m the only one you’ve ever given this to.”

“Yes, daddy. Only you,” you sigh, and he starts moving a little quicker, a little deeper; it just feels good now, his cock so big and hard inside you, tight like you’re made for each other. He rubs your pussy with purpose, now your opening and your clit, and you know you’re looking up at him with such sappy, sweet affection in your eyes because he’s looking at you with everything you feel mirrored back in his.

“Going to fill you up; never going to leave you like that again, if I can help it.” You hum, smile, move into his thrusts just a little.

“Yes, daddy. Missed you too much.” Your mouth falls open in a moan when he fucks his hips hard against yours, your breasts jumping with each full, deep thrust, and then the moans become constant, each time he’s completely inside you. It’s like a switch is flipped, and you go from sweet baby to desperate, feral slut in an instant. “Oh, come in me, daddy. Want you to fill me up, breed my body. Claim my ass, daddy, ruin me for everyone but you.”

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, thrusts faster, rubs your pussy harder, and you throw your head back and moan, your chest heaving. “I’ll breed your ass—no babies this way, but when you come you’ll still be full of me, and when your little pussy flutters it will just sink deeper, sweetheart. Your belly will swell for daddy, and you’ll be owned by daddy—even more than you are now. Isn’t that right?”

“Oh, god, yes daddy. Fuck me, daddy, breed me daddy, please.”

He’s getting close, it’s clear, and he pulls your body flush against his, one hand wrapped around your thigh, and pounds harder inside you, checks your face to make sure that’s okay; it’s so okay, and you nod because you know he likes the reassurance he’s not being too rough when you do this.

“Feels good, want your come, daddy. Want you to come in my ass and spit in my mouth—I’m begging, daddy, begging.”

You fuck hard against him, so desperate, dig your nails into his thighs and climax, and he follows, holding you tight and coming hot inside you. He fucks you through it, and you can feel his come pushed back and forth by the head of his dick; it’s delicious, maddening, and you don’t stop shaking for a long time, until he’s pulling out and lifting your body and holding you in his arms.

“Good girl, sweet girl, all used up by daddy, filled up with daddy,” he murmurs, rubbing your back and gently kissing your lips. Your head sags, your body drained of energy, but he tilts it up and gets you to open your mouth, licks at your tongue, pooling saliva on his while you moan, soft and wrecked into the kiss. You swallow hard when he pulls back, your eyelids fluttering, and he lays you down on the bed, brushes your hair back out of your face. “What do you need, baby? Bath or shower? Blanket, food, cuddles?”

You hum, because it all sounds good, but ultimately murmur, “shower, please, and then food and cuddles on the couch.”

He is so good to you, as always, cleaning you up, washing and conditioning your hair, letting you lean against him, sleepy and boneless, while he does all the work. He orders from your favorite restaurant, then gets you into a pair of his sweats, and you cuddle on the couch with a movie until the food comes; you don’t watch it, just lay on top of him, warm and content in his arms.

If Aaron ever has to leave town for ten days again, you’re booking a flight and hunting down that goddamn unsub yourself. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T+ for blood, language, nudity, and horny

Warnings: Implied pain/blood kink

Summary: Local vampire tries to give her human soulmate a bath, but the human is feral and loving it. Then it gets a lil horny, to both of their frustration.

Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

2: Bloodbath, Baby!

“I take it you changed your mind about the clothes? Or am I supposed to use these towels like a makeshift toga?” You asked, glancing around the bathroom, eying the ornate tub with mild interest. This certainly wasn’t where you had expected Cassandra to take you, especially not when she had somewhat promised you garments to wear. There were no pants or shirts (or even dresses) in sight, just a rack of the softest looking towels you had ever seen. It was admittedly difficult for you to resist the urge to use one to wipe the blood off of your shoulder. However, you figured that it would be best to save that for after you were given a good behavior prize. After all, it was much more fun to be a bastard if your “victim” (not that Cassandra really counted as that) knew how polite you were capable of being, and you were, under normal circumstances, very polite. Most of the time. Maybe.

“What did I say about talking?” Cassandra snapped at you, glaring at you from her perch on the counter. She was sitting on the edge, waiting for something, occasionally eying the room’s entrance.

“You told me to shut up for ‘five minutes’. It’s been eight, at the very least! I’ve been holding back, just for you, babe,” you replied, smirking as you did. For a moment your soulmate seems to consider chucking a bar of soap at your head. Eventually she thinks better of it, opting to roll her eyes at you instead. “For the record, I did count, just to be sure. Wouldn’t have wanted to make any assumptions about the passage of time, considering how fast time seems to fly when I’m with a loved one.” Unfortunately, this does not get a rise out of Cassandra, who has shifted to face away from you. Not yet willing to give up your buffoonery (and assuming that you would not, in fact, be getting a good behavior prize anytime soon), you released a loud, exaggerated sigh, before switching tactics.

Standing up with the blanket still curled around yourself, you maneuver over to the tub, eagerly climbing inside. With how large it was, laying down was fairly easy, though you weren’t entirely flat. Wanting to be as comfortable as possible, you adjust yourself and the blanket until it covers you, while letting one end go behind your head like a pillow. It’s nowhere near as nice as you had hoped. On the plus side, however, is the attention it gets from Cassandra. Before long she’s standing adjacent to the tub, staring down with an expression of exasperation.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asked.

“Napping, obviously. Care to join me?” You answered, without hesitation. Then you gently pat the blanket, as if offering to let her sit on top of you. This only serves to make her angrier. Now she’s leaning over the basin, bracing one hand against it, her other hand reaching to grab your throat and pull you towards her. The two of you are so close that you can’t help but blush, and the feeling of her skin against yours is weirdly attractive. “I should have known you were the kinky type. Not that I mind,” you murmured, gaze wandering a little farther south than her lips. Before you know it she’s shoved you back down and let go of you. She shakes her hand a bit, like she’s just touched something gross, but you see the pink rising on her cheeks. As much as you want to tease her, the sound of approaching footsteps takes priority. Soon the door is opening, revealing a stressed servant, a pile of clothes in her arms. Suddenly you’re glad that Cassandra pushed you away, considering you don’t think she would have enjoyed having someone walk in on the two of you in that position.

“Lady Cassandra, I have what you requested. Would you like me to draw a bath for you? Or-” she pauses when she sees you, clearly unsure of what to make of your behavior. Hell, she almost drops what she’s carrying, and makes a soft ‘oh’ sound. Presumably dying inside, Cassandra quickly takes the bundle from her. Then she stands between the two of you, blocking line of sight, looking as tense as could be.

“Just get back to work, and don’t mention this to anyone,” she growled, gesturing towards the door. As soon as the maiden closes it behind her, Cassandra is turning back to you. “Get rid of that stupid fucking blanket or I’m forcing you to wear wet socks.” Understandably, you start giggling at her request, hardly able to believe that she had really just said those words out loud. “Would you prefer I cut up the soles of your feet? I’ll heal long before you do, asshole.” Now that makes you pause, trying to figure out whether or not her threat held up. Even though everyone had a basic understanding of how blood bonds worked (the less romantic, and more historic, way to refer to soulmates), the specifics were confusing for most people, including yourself. Would your aching wounds bother her? Or only the initial injury?... Somehow you had a feeling you’d figure out the answer within the next few days.

Until then, you decide to err on the side of caution, for once in your life. Still, you roll your eyes before you pull the blanket up and out of the tub. Again you spot a faint rosy tint on Cassandra’s face, and her gaze most definitely lingers on places other than your eyes. In the end you have to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from calling her out on it. Gotta get some clothes first, you think, then back to being a dick. Holding back only gets harder from there.

Wordlessly, Cassandra takes a seat by the front of the tub, where your feet are propped up on the edge. Giving you a judgemental look, she pushes them aside so she can reach the controls knobs easier. You give an exaggerated pout in response, only for her to ignore you completely, trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. It was in stark contrast to how she had looked at you a mere half an hour earlier. There were several interesting things to note about her behavior, and you found yourself almost excited to figure out the puzzle she presented. Did she care about you now? Simply because of your blood bond? Did she have a genuine soft spot for romance?... Those sorts of questions were all you could think about, even as Cassandra turned the handles, letting cold water splash into the tub.

“I’d say ‘fuck you’ but honestly, were I in your position I would likely do the same,” you said, shivering a little. Cassandra raises an eyebrow, staring at you like you were stupid, before turning the handle a bit more. Eventually you figure out what she meant by it. “What, you guys don’t have a quality water heater? This is Romania for fuck’s sake. I would have figured the water would be a hell of a lot hotter by now,” you added, only for her to splash some still very much cold water on your face. “Is this fun for you? Are you enjoying this? God, I hope you assholes have Legos somewhere in this maniac menagerie, so I can step on them while you sleep.”

“Do you always spit in the face of kindness?” Cassandra asked, moving towards the other end of the tub as she spoke. Once more you laugh, though this time it’s much more of a hollow sound, and your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “My sister wanted to kill you, but I pulled your pathetic corpse out of the basement, now I’m letting you use my bath, and you’re mocking me. This is why I don’t bother with this shit,” she growled, even as she wets a washcloth and starts dabbing at your wounds. On one hand you understand her frustration… but on the other you couldn’t get the image of her past victims out of your head.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be clean than not,” you started to say, pausing to think for a moment. Then you reach out, putting your hand over Cassandra’s, making her freeze in place. It’s soft enough of a touch to surprise her. Which is why it’s so easy for you to snatch the towel from her hands. “You ‘don’t bother’ with this ‘shit’ because you’re a fucking sadist, who thinks all humans are beneath you, who acts like she has every right to bleed innocent people dry, who thinks she’s God’s gift to this goddamn hellhole we call Earth. Do you think this makes up for your sins? Do you-” her nails dig into your arm and she grits her teeth in pain- “think that I can forget listening to the screams of your victims? Whose graves is this castle built upon? Whose fucking bones am I standing on? Who died to keep you alive? How many other versions of me have you killed, in other timelines, in other lives, where the universe didn’t demand that we be together? I’ve seen your heart, girl, and it’s as raw as they come.”

There’s a brief second of intense, furious eye contact. Then a flash of movement, a rush of pain, tears filling the corner of your eyes. Blood pours from the new hole in your shoulder, but Cassandra is quick to lick it up. She’s groaning in between each run of her tongue across your skin, clearly feeling it every bit that you were, yet she shows no signs of stopping. If anything, her pain seems to spur her on harder. Even you can’t help but blush a little as you struggle beneath her grip. Why did vampires have to use their mouths? Why couldn’t they get blood transfusions, like the rest of society? This way, your pleasure mixes with your misery, leaving you confused, and the fact that you’re still naked is not at all helping.

“Oh fuck off, please,” you gasped, trying to push her off of you. To your surprise, she does as asked, pulling away after one last lick. When you turn to look at her, you see your blood covering her lips and dripping down her chin. “You’re a mess, Cassie. Hot water?” With that you return her favor from earlier, splashing some of the (finally above room temperature) water in her direction. Most of it misses her. A few drops, however, do manage to hit their mark. Then she’s wiping her face on her sleeve, scowling the whole time. There’s still plenty of blood on her face afterwards, but it’s nothing compared to what’s gathering on your shoulder. She eyes the wound, nostrils flaring briefly, a predator dying for one more bite. “If you bite me again, I swear to whoever that one lady y’all worship is, I will bite you. My teeth aren’t made for that shit, but I don’t care. We’ll both be miserable and that’s it, baby! That’s love! I’m threatening you with an unhealthy perception of affection, dipshit!”

This time you expect her to move away, or hit you, or do anything other than what she does. Calling your bluff, she moves around the ever-filling tub, pausing to turn the water off, before hiking the edges of her dress up and… oh. Oh. Somehow she’s in the tub with you now, legs on either side of your waist, presenting the side of her neck to you with a knowing smirk. But you are not known for your cleverness. Nor your ability to make good decisions, at that. Perhaps your blood loss was starting to affect your cognition. Whatever made you so feral, so beautifully unhinged, you embraced it with utter glee. Soon enough your teeth find themselves on Cassandra’s throat, digging in enough for you to feel your blood bond reacting. For a moment she stiffens in response. Then she relaxes, even takes in a rush of air that sounds oddly content, leaning into your touch. What the fuck? You think, almost shocked enough to let go. Almost.

“What’s the matter, pet? I thought you wanted me to know what it felt like on the other side of things?” Cassandra teased, voice quiet and low. Something about her tone sends a familiar, although unwanted, feeling to your core. Still, her words egg you on, and you find yourself biting harder, tugging at the skin a little. More tears gather in your eyes, but you fight through the pain as best as you can. You drag your teeth across her skin, wishing for sharper canines, before letting go to inspect your work. There’s a clear outline where your mouth had been, but not a single drop of blood. Frustrated, you go back in for seconds, choosing a different spot to target. Again you go through the motions, only for no crimson to stain your lips. This cycle repeats several more times, with you running your tongue along her neck in between bites, so focused that you don’t realize that she’s grinding against you until she stops.

“I need to file my teeth,” you mused, trying to forget about what you had just done. Now that it’s over, Cassandra seems to feel the same, and she quickly climbs back out of the tub. She’s refusing to meet your gaze, instead focusing on arranging the clothes the servant had brought earlier. By the time she’s facing you again her blush is almost entirely gone.

“Finish cleaning up, then bandage yourself and get dressed. I’ll have a maiden wait outside to bring you back to my room. Don’t even think about trying to run,” Cassandra said sternly. You’re too distracted by the thought of what happened to give her any snarky response. So she simply nods to herself, then leaves, slamming the door behind her. Though you had expected to be relieved by her absence, you find yourself groaning, holding your head in your hands. Why is she so attractive? This is probably illegal, you think, in at least several countries. Or it should be, at least. Now that she’s gone, there’s nothing to distract you from the price of her attention, with your shoulder and neck aching horribly. Cleaning up was going to hurt even worse. Still, you think, at least I’ll have some time to think of new insults. With that in mind, you begin to wash away the blood, thoughts entirely consumed by your newest ‘partner’.

[thefanficmonster]

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

I

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them. 

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

II

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out. 

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

IV

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

V

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

                                                            ~  ~  ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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[patt-writes-stuff]

Violetgrass (Xiao x f!reader)

Pairing: Yan!Xiao x f!reader

Word count: 6.7K+

Warnings: not the most canon complaint cuz the timeline for the archon War is a little blurry? Angst with no happy ending, major and repeated character death, semi-detailed descriptions of blood, injuries, and violence. Unhealthy and toxic relationships, yandere themes, mentions of stalking, controlling behavior, mentions of kid-napping, forced captivity. Unhealthy mindsets and generally xiao’s kinda slowly losing his sanity. Some delusions. Allusions of starvation/dehydration (it’s like one sentence). Pleas do not read this if any of the previously mentioned topics trigger you in any way.

Genre: Angst and Yandere

Tags/Aus: Mythology Au, Reincarnation Au

Summary: You and Xiao were lovers during the Archon War. You were his paradise, his bliss, and, unfortunately, a fragile mortal who was taken away far too soon. However Celestina was kind enough, or perhaps cruel enough, to bring you back to Xiao, only to rip you out of his loving embrace once more. This happens again and again, each time far more painfully than the last. Even an Adeptus such as Xiao can only take so much before he snaps though. This time, he’s gonna make sure that no one, not even you, can take his bliss away.

A/N: This is my piece for the Attack on Academia Mythology Au Collab!! Be sure to check the rest of them, they’re all super awesome and made by amazing writers!

You’ve heard the myth about the Vigilant Yaksha and the violetgrass maiden, haven’t you?

It’s said that the two are eternally intertwined, destined to love each other, only to be ripped apart by both her mortality and the cruelty of the gods. The tale itself goes like this…

The first time the Adeptus and his mortal lover met was back when the Archon War was still roaring. The smell of blood and misery filled the air and Rex Lapis had yet to claim his title as the Geo Archon. Despite this, some managed to find joy and serenity in these troubling periods.

The maiden was one of those people. She found joy in frolicking through the fields and climbing the highest mountains to collect qingxin flowers and, her personal favorite, violetgrass, whenever she had the time. Though climbing up the steep mountains and jagged peaks of Liyue was indeed dangerous, the damsel had become quite skilled at climbing, her hold rarely ever slipping, no falls or cuts of any sort.

Until one day, the maiden was climbing up a particular mountain. It was a troublesome one, for there were no proper footholds or protruding stones to grab on to. Still, the pretty violetgrass that was just a foot or two away from her, swaying gently with the wind, was far too tempting to not collect. It would look so lovely in a flower crown, or maybe a vase, perhaps she could flatten it out to make a bookmark or-

A piercing shriek escaped the mortal. Whilst her thoughts had been elsewhere, she’d stopped on a small ledge that was far too fragile to support her weight, the rock beneath the maiden gave away to nothing before she could react.

She shut their eyes tightly, bracing herself for an impact that would surely leave her battered and bruised, if not dead.

However, it never came.

Instead, she was caught mid-air by a pair of strong arms that secured their hold under the mortal woman’s knees and neck. She didn’t open her eyes right away, for fear that she would still fall, choosing instead to catch their breath. Once her savior landed safely on the ground, something she was able to detect due to the thud of shoes against the earth, she slowly opened her eyes.

Upon opening them, her eyes met with the piercing amber eyes of a young man with dark hair (the color of the ocean at night, she thought dreamily) with pretty teal bangs framing his even prettier face. His brows were furrowed slightly, thin lips twisted into what seemed to be a permanent frown. In her still dazed state, she couldn’t help but think that he was far too handsome to look so dreadfully serious.

After an intense moment of eye contact, perhaps too intense for two strangers that had met only seconds prior, he let her go in a rather unceremonious manner, causing her to squawk in surprise, knees buckling under the unexpected weight. She had not yet had a chance to gather her bearings after such a terrifying event.

Instead of asking if she was alright, the young man simply said, in a rather crude and callous manner, “You should be more careful, mortal. If I hadn’t been there to catch you, you would’ve surely broken your neck.”

She gawked at him. Mortal? Why would he refer to her in such an… odd way?

The maiden looked at him up and down, as if trying to understand just what was wrong with this poor man. Suddenly, it struck her. She’d been an absolute idiot to not have noticed sooner. From the tattoo that adorned his right arm to the way he held himself, it had been so obvious.

Her savior was an Adeptus.

He wasn’t just an Adeptus, no. He was much more than that. He was one of the Adepti who served under Rex Lapis. He was one of the five Yakshas who kept her and the people of Liyue safe if the mask tied to his belt was any indication. And instead of killing demons or evil gods, he’d taken the time to save her.

Before she could muster an adequate thank you, he, who she’d now realized was Adeptus Xiao, was already leaving, uttering a quick “Please be careful,” on his way.

Quickly, and without really thinking, she grabbed onto his wrist, blabbering out the words, “Wait, don’t go! You must allow me to repay you for your generous actions!”

The amber-eyed Adeptus opened his mouth, ready to declare that it was unnecessary, but before he could, the damsel spoke up, “I could cook you something in return. How about almond tofu?” with a small giggle she added, “I assure you it’s sweeter than those dreams you eat.”

To both of their surprises, Xiao uttered a quiet, almost shy, “Yes.”

The Adeptus didn’t know what had come over him. All he knew is that there was something about the way her eyes sparkled and her lips moved, her soothing, melodious voice. It made his heart pound in a way it never had before.

And so, she cooked him some almond tofu, and they- well, she- talked as he ate the mouthwatering sweet.

He came back the day after that one and the one after that, followed on by the one after that, and so on. Xiao hadn’t meant to, really he hadn’t. But there was something about the maiden that just brought him a peace he had never experienced before. Her warm embrace and soft, gentle words were all he needed to keep fighting, to keep living, even. She was his paradise, his bliss. It wasn’t long until they were mutually infatuated with one another, deeply in love.

Every time he would visit her home, he would always bring her the flowers she so adored. Glaze lilies, silk flowers, and of course, violetgrass. Xiao had even gifted her a small broach, one made of the finest noctilucous jade, shaped like the downturned purple flower.

Unfortunately, everything is temporary for those punished with immortality.

The first time Xiao lost his maiden was, as he remembers, a rainy day. Despite the dreary weather, she had decided to go violetgrass picking since they’re always best picked after the rain.

But, dear Archons, what a dreadful idea that had been.

While the purple flower is indeed best picked after it rains, it is also the time when rocks are most… slippery.

So, as the maiden was climbing up the steep mountains of Juyen Karst, her right hand’s hold on the rock slipped, causing her palm to be cut open by a particularly jagged piece of stone. She hissed in, watching as blood began to ooze out. Panic started to seep in, there was no ledge for her to tend to her wound, and the cut was far too big for her to continue to climb up or down.

Dread began to fill her to her very core, she felt burning hot with unchecked anxiety, fear begging to settle into her gut in the most uncomfortable of manners. She should have waited for Xiao as he had asked of her. Ever since they had first met, a year ago to the day, he’d been so adamant on wanting to go with her to ensure her safety. She’d only wanted to surprise him with some when he returned home. The maiden was so sure it would’ve been a romantic anniversary gift, seeing as they were the cause of their meeting…

She’d been such a fool.

The violetgrass maiden attempted to climb down but Celestia seemed to laugh at her feeble attempts. She stretched her leg, trying to find the foothold she had used previously. However, her foot slipped and before she knew it, she was falling, just as she had been a year ago.

Horror filled her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe, her life flashed before her eyes, and then suddenly she remembered some words her lover had uttered to her one night under the glow of the moonlight when it was but the two of them in each other’s arms:

“If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name, Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.”

And so she called, at the top of her lungs, as loud as she could muster. The seconds seemed to turn to hours as she shut her eyes and waited to feel the strong arms of her lover, to hear the safety of his heartbeat.

But it never came.

Or rather, it came too late.

By the time Xiao had finished up the demonic creatures that threatening Liyue, by the time he’d answered her call, he was already too late.

Upon manifesting in the air out of nothing, he was greeted by the side of his love’s pitiful, mortal body. Her garments were bloody, the basket she carried her flowers in laid a few feet away from her body,her neck bent in a painfully awkward way.

Xiao felt so helpless. He was so helpless.

He could do no more than hold back the tears stinging his eyes and attempting to shake her awake.

The second time Xiao met the maiden was no more than a century after the first time. The Archon War was not yet over and sickness plagued every nook and cranny, taking the lives of hundreds upon thousands.

The two star-crossed lovers were reunited one clear summer night when the maiden was wandering aimlessly through the fields of Lingju Pass. She knew it was dangerous during these times, especially with how ill she had been feeling as of late. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d already spent hours tossing and turning in her bed. Sleep, however, refused to come. Instead, she felt the overwhelming urge to leave the safety of her bed and go there. It was as if someone had tied a rope around her waist and was tugging at it persistently, insisting she follows.

And so she followed.

Upon reaching a clearing, she froze. In front of her very eyes was a sitting Stonehide Lawachurl, the type even the fiercest warriors in your village struggled with. The maiden quickly started backing away, praying to the Lord of Geo that it wouldn’t sense her presence. Her prayers were in vain, however, for as soon as the thought escaped her, she stepped on a twig, making it snap and effectively alerting the fearsome monster of her presence.

She shook in terror as parts of the Lawachurl’s rocky exterior began to glow with geo elemental energy. She hadn’t expected anything of the sort to happen so she hadn’t brought her sword, meaning she couldn’t exactly fight it, definitely not without a vision at least. Running wasn’t much of an option considering her body’s weak and ill state. She could try to outrun it, sure, but it wouldn’t be long before she was driven to a coughing fit because of it.

Before life had a chance to flash before her eyes, a masked young man appeared. Distantly, she recognized him as one of the adepti and watched him easily defeat the Stonehide Lawachurl with a series of short, consecutive plunges. She couldn’t help but watch him, mouth agape in an expression of pure, unadulterated awe. The Adeptus didn’t even need a claymore to break through the creature’s thick, hard exterior. As bad as she felt for not assisting him, she knew she weren’t exactly in any position to lend a hand. Not that she needed to, though, for soon enough the monster crumbled into nothing but red and black smoke.

After a second of panting over the remains of what was left of the creature, polearm in hand, Xiao turned to her and felt his blood run cold.

It was her.

How could it be her? She had died long ago. He knew she had, he’d cradled her cold body as tears streamed down his face. He’d taken her lifeless body back to her family. He’d left flowers at her grave.

This had to be some sort of sick joke, he thought, perhaps the karmic debt was finally getting to him, just like it had his fellow Yakshas.

Suddenly, his amber eyes zeroed in on a broach she had pinned to her dress. A Violetgrass broach, to be exact. Made of noctilucous jade, just like the one he had given her. The one he’d made for her with his own hands. There was no denying it was the very one. Only, how could that be? He had ensured it had been buried with you…

But it was an indisputable fact. That broach was the one he had made for his love and the woman before him was her. It was her from her wide eyes, fixated on him with the same wonder they had always had when they looked at him. Her hair was the same color and texture, and it framed her face in the same way. It was her.

The beginnings of tears stung at his eyes. Perhaps Celestia had brought you back? Perhaps they’d finally realized, just as he had always known, that her death was cruel and unfair. That it wasn’t meant to be. That she was meant to be in his arms, happy and safe.

“Uhm- excuse me, Adeptus Xiao, are you alright?” She inquired worriedly, eyes solely on him, filled to the brim with concern.

‘Oh Archons’, he couldn’t help but think distantly, ‘I’ve missed her voice.’

Instead of running up to her and crushing him in his loving embrace, he stayed where he was, took off his mask, nodded briskly, swallowing as if to avoid the tightness in his throat. She didn’t seem to remember him yet, so there was no use in frightening her.

Before he could muster up the courage to speak to her, his love began to cough furiously, though she attempted to cover it up. She didn’t want to be rude to her savior, after all.

“Ha, pardon me, sir, I’ve just been feeling a bit under the weather is all,” she told him feebly.

He nodded brusquely, before uttering, “I shall return you home safely.”

“Oh no, I assure you, you’ve done more than enough for me. I can’t ask that of you,” she fumbled hurriedly, though his words were more of a statement than a question.

Xiao had never been one for unnecessary- or at least what he thought were unnecessary- words, so instead of saying anything, the Adeptus simply grabbed her by the waist and teleported you home, after asking where home was, of course.

The next day, the Yaksha visited the maiden’s home, a bushel of violetgrass flowers in hand. She’d been understandably surprised, yet thrilled that the dark-haired man was visiting her. She hadn’t expected someone as busy as him to make time for a regular person such as herself, especially not during these times.

“These are my favorite flowers, y’know? They’re just so beautiful,” the maiden exclaimed gleefully.

He did know. That had been one of the reasons he had brought them to her. The second reason was because of what happened last time, in her previous life, he supposed. Celestia had been kind enough to gift him a second chance with his love, and he was going to ensure that it did not go to waste.

And so, every day he would visit her. Some days he would bring silk flowers, or glaze lilies, while other days he would bring her loach pearls and core lapis. Not a day went by where he would not appear in front of the damsel’s house, a gift in hand, ready to hear her ramble about whatever that beautiful brain of hers desired to prattle on about.

“You’re simply too generous Xiao,” she’d told him playfully while she laid in her bed, as she was still unwell, the Adeptus seated in a plush chair next to it. “There has to be something I can give you in return for everything. I won’t take no for an answer.”

He thought for a moment, before asking, tentatively, “Do you know how to make almond tofu?”

He’d never forget her dazzling smile that day, as she shakily got out of her bed, latching onto the support he offered while she gathered her bearings, and marched to her kitchen, enthusiastically preparing the sweet treat as she talked about a book she’d been reading, one that’d been gifted to her by a friend, titled Moonlit Bamboo Forest.

The lovers did this every day for months. Xiao brought her some medicinal tea that Rex Lapis himself said could cure her ailments. They did indeed begin to see improvement in her health and Xiao couldn’t help but feel immense relief. This time, he wouldn’t lose her for certain.

Until the plagues reached her village.

She’d been one of the first to catch it since the village doctor came to check on her so often, he’d spread it to her. The plague, coupled with her previous illness, weakened her body in a manner of days. One day, Xiao went to get some medicine his fellow adepti had guaranteed would help the maiden feel better.

When he returned later that day, however, he found her body in the bed, cold and without a pulse, the stench of death and sickness thick in the air.

That was the second time he had lost her.

The third time the star-crossed lovers met was long after the archon war. Liyue was now its own nation with its own name, the great center of wealth and commerce. The Yakshas were now a thing of the past, having succumbed to their karmic debt. Eventually, they all fell in one way or another.

All but Xiao, who remained a constant throughout it all.

Over the past decade or so, Xiao had taken to staying at the Wangshu Inn when he wasn’t slaying monsters. The people were nice enough, though he had long given up on attempting to form emotional connections with others. It would only lead to grief, just like it had when he’d lost his love or his fellow Yakshas, and there was only so much grief anyone, mortal or not, could take before their thread of sanity snapped in half. And with his Karmic Debt being as bad as it was…

As Xiao sat at the edge of the balcony of the Wangshu Inn, legs dangling below, he couldn’t help but think of her, his maiden. He wondered if, perhaps, Celestia would give him a third chance and bring her back to him. Honestly, the Adeptus wasn’t sure he wanted a third chance with her. While he did miss the sound of her heartbeat and the sweet words she’d utter to him and only him, he doubted he could bear the pain of having her ripped away from him once again.

It’s as if Celestia was taunting Xiao. As if the Archons above were bored and found some sick amusement in his pain as if his emotions were nothing but a game to them. What other explanations were there for what happened next?

“Um- excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?” An angelic voice he knew far too well, missed far too much, spoke.

Xiao looked up and lo and behold, it was her. Same hair, same eyes, same violetgrass broach.

She stood behind him clutching a plate of something, though the angle wouldn’t allow him to make up what it was. Her face adorned that same anxious smile of hers and he could feel himself falling in love with the maiden all over again. He knew he should say no. He shouldn’t allow her back in, not when he’s already lost her so many times before, not when they’d both suffered so much just by being together.

He nodded before looking away.

He shouldn’t but he would.

“I hope you don’t mind me intruding on your quiet time,” she said softly once she had settled beside him. When he made no indication of answering, she continued, “To be honest, you just seemed so… sad, melancholic even. Something about it, even if I don’t really know you, doesn’t sit right with me. It makes my heart feel heavy.”

The violetgrass maiden received no response, except for a soft grunt of acknowledgment, so small she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it. Still, it was all she needed to perk up and stretch her arms out, offering him the plate she’d been holding.

“Here, I got this for you,” she told him, “word around the streets is you’ve got quite an appetite for it! Though this is my first time staying at the Inn, so I’m not sure if it’s any good here.”

Xiao looked at her, amber eyes filled with love. He was glad to know that, despite living through many lives now, she was still the girl he’d met back then, as sweet as he’d remembered her, just as caring.

He shouldn’t have but he took the plate from her hands and began to eat.

Instead of saying anything, she simply watched him as he ate, a silly little smile making its way to her face. The look on his lady’s face had him growing hot and turning beet red

“So,” he coughed out, embarrassed, “where’d you get a broach like that?”

“Oh, this one?” She inquired, pointing at the shiny violetgrass broach, “I found it lying on the ground one day when I was out picking lotus heads for dinner. I asked just about everyone in Liyue Harbor if it was theirs, but no luck. I eventually decided to just keep it for myself. It is a shame though, whoever lost it must truly be upset over losing such a beautiful piece of jewelry. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

He nodded along, thinking that, well, the broach actually was with its owner.

“It’s as if it were fate though,” she prattled on happily, watching the stars as she talked, “Violeygrass is my very favorite, always has been really. Though, I’ve always been too scared to climb up for them myself. You see, ever since I was little, I’ve had this recurring nightmare where I fell to my death while collecting some.”

The Adeptus stilled for a second, tense. She hadn’t ever brought up dreams about her past life. Maybe this time was different, maybe she’d remember what he did!

“Oh my Archons,” she exclaimed, face warm with embarrassment, scratching the back of her head sheepishly, “I’ve been going on and on! I’m so sorry, something about you feels so familiar. It makes me feel like I can tell you just about everything. Is that weird?”

His heart was racing like it hadn’t in years, decades even.

“You can tell me whatever you want,” he answered shortly, “I don’t mind listening. You have a nice voice.”

The maiden covered her hands with her face, flustered, and Xiao let out a rare smile, soft and gentle. This time would be different. He’d make sure of it.

After that day, the maiden began to visit the Wangshu Inn often, whenever she could spare time away from her job. Unbeknownst to her, however, Xiao followed at a distance when she wasn’t visiting him, to ensure her safety. He knew it wasn’t right, truly, but he had no other choice. He had to, or else he’d risk losing her to an accident such as last time, fall ill again, attacked by monsters or, Celestia forbid, be kidnapped by a group of treasure hoarders.

He’d have to get rid of any and all threats.

So, Xiao continued to follow his maiden from a distance, he made sure she was in tip-top shape, and ruthlessly slaughtering all enemies that he deemed a threat to her, until he was certain nothing would take her away from him again.

Except for one threat. Himself.

The third time he’d lost her was on a beautiful night, not that Xiao could remember it well. His love had insisted on the two of them taking a walk. She’d reasoned that the cool night air would help him regain control. His karmic debt had been weighing on him an awful lot recently and she simply couldn’t bear to see him in such excruciating pain.

The walk had started off rather pleasantly, as far as Xiao could remember. He could remember nudging his hand against hers, wanting to hold it but being far too shy to do so. With a laugh and a teasing remark, the maiden interlaced their fingers, bringing up their hands to place a gentle kiss on his, making the tips of his ears redden in bashfulness. They’d walked a little further until they encountered a group of hilichurls accompanied by a pyro abyss mage. Without skipping a beat, Xiao stepped in front of his lover, polearm appearing in his hand.

And then…

Everything went dark. Xiao’s mind was nothing but a void, pain exploded in every inch of his body as his karmic debt returned in full force to punish him for the slaughtering he’d committed.

When he came to, his mind was hazy, unsure of what had occurred. The Yaksha sat up, ignoring the way his muscles protested against it, and looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened and where he was.

Xiao froze when his eyes locked onto her pitiful body laying a few feet ahead of him in the grass surrounded by arrowheads and broken hilichurl masks, blood turning ice-cold. If he ignored the gashes across her body, the ones that were unmistakably made by the bloody spear he was clutching and not some hilichurl club or bow and arrow, and the blood that stained her pretty garments, he could almost fool himself into thinking she was asleep.

This had been his doing.

After a few beats of stunned silence, the dark-haired Adeptus lurched forward grabbing onto her cold body and shaking ruthlessly, calling out her name frantically, as if it would make his love wake up, make her cradle his face lovingly and ask why he’d been crying.

Xiao looked up onto the sky scornfully, looking up at Celestia with nothing short of pure, unadulterated loathing. He was willing to bet they were all mocking him right now, laughing at how weak and pathetic he was, at how time after time, he’d failed to love her enough, to keep her alive. They did this on purpose he was sure of it, those bastards. Well, if they could play dirty like this, so could he. He’d get her back, he’d keep her alive by his side.

And just like that, Xiao’s thread of sanity snapped.

“You can’t take her away from me anymore,” he spoke to the sky nonsensically, “I won’t let you. I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to kill, you won’t take my bliss away from me again.”

“That story was quite depressing,” Chongyun stated, ceasing his footsteps to look to his friend, Xingqiu.

“Ah yes, it is indeed, my liege,” the navy blue-haired gentleman agreed, “However, I’m glad this book included the whole myth, instead of making me wait for the next volume like the last one.”

The light blue-haired boy rolled his eyes before saying, “As much as I appreciated you reading the book aloud, I don’t see how this aids us in our search for (Y/N).”

The reason the boys had been searching across all of Liyue, was because their aforementioned friend had mysteriously gone missing. Everything had been as it normally was until one day, (Y/N) didn’t show up at her job in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, something that was incredibly unusual of her, especially without a warning to her boss or coworkers. This led Hu Tao, with the insistence of Zhongli, to ask Chongyun and Xingqiu, two of (Y/N)’s friends, for help in the search for her. They had also contacted the milelith, but they had told them that she’d not been missing for long enough to warrant a search party. The two had, of course, been quick to help, though Xingqiu had been rather enraptured in a book of Liyue Myths, simply insisting he’d have to take it with him so he could read while he searched for her.

“But my liege,” Xingqiu exclaimed playfully, golden eyes shining with mirth, “this story is of utmost importance in our search for our beloved friend. Why, for all we know, (Y/N) might’ve been kidnapped by the Vigilant Yaksha himself! She has always had a habit of climbing mountains to pick violetgrass like the maiden in the book”

“Do not be so ridiculous,” Chongyun said, rolling his eyes, “I doubt an Adeptus such as himself would ever commit such an atrocity of that degree against a citizen of Liyue. Besides, that myth is incredibly old and there’s very little evidence that proves its validity. It’s more likely that (Y/N) was taken by a demon. That is why I asked you to accompany me to Wuwang Hill.”

“I was simply joking Chongyun,” he said with a laugh before turning solemn, “However, regretfully I feel as though it is time for the two of us to return to Liyue Harbor for the day. You’ve just about run out of popsicles and with this heat, I have no doubt you’ll overheat if we keep going.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” The blue-eyed boy admitted. “I hope (Y/N) is alright wherever she is.”

“I do as well,” Xingqiu agreed, “Perhaps Hu Tao and Zhongli have had more luck.”

Chongyun nodded, “Xiangling also said she’d ask her customers if they’d seen her.”

With that, the two boys made their way back to Lihue Harbor, oblivious to just how true Xingqiu’s joke had been.

Xiao sighed as he climbed up the stairs of Wangshu Inn up to his room. Of course, he did not need sleep, it was a mortal need in and of itself, or a room for that matter but Verr Goldet had insisted that he should have his own space, somewhere he could rest after long days of slaughtering demons such as this one.

The Adeptus turned the door handle, opening the door of an empty, pristine room. While the room had all of the furniture the other Inn rooms had, it still felt unnervingly empty, without any clothes or trinkets laying around. The only personal object of Xiao’s in the room was an orange teapot that rested on the nightstand.

Quickly, Xiao opened the tea pot’s lid, and within seconds he was standing in front of a Liyue style mansion, surrounded by mountains that he crafted to look like the ones from when the two of you had met all those centuries ago. Eager to see you, Xiao ignored Tubby’s greetings and opened the front door, making quick work of taking off his shoes before climbing the stairs to the second floor, where your room was.

He opened the door to find you sat atop your bed, alert and glaring at him fiercely. The Adeptus rolled his amber eyes, it seemed you were still trying to act out and be defiant. Looking around your room, mostly to make sure you hadn’t tried to smash the windows with the desk chair like last time (you seemed to not comprehend the fact that there was no escaping the serenetea pot, since it was a world Xiao himself had created), his eyes settled on the plate of bamboo shoot soup he’d left for you this morning, along with a still filled to the brim cup of water. He narrowed his eyes at that. It simply wouldn’t do. You’d been here for about a week now and you still refused to eat or drink anything he brought you, except for a few nibbles and sips he’d managed to threaten coax out of you. Xiao, admittedly, didn’t know very much about humans, but he did know they needed to eat and drink to stay alive. He’d learned that the hard way on his last few tries.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Xiao inquired before adding, “If you don’t like this food you should come out and say it. I can ask Smiley Yanxiao for something that suits your taste more.”

You let out a poorly suppressed scoff. This nut-job didn’t seem to get that out of all the things wrong in this situation, the last thing you were concerned about was the food. Dear Archons, just what is wrong with this man? First, he had the gall of taking you captive one evening when you were going home from work and now he had the audacity to expect you to act like a complacent little toy and go along with this insanity?

And to think that when you’d first met him whilst accompanying the Traveler and Paimon, who had been commissioned by Director Hu Tao to gather some cor lapis for a client’s ceremony, you’d been absolutely smitten with the awkward and stoic Adeptus. Everything from his pretty black hair to his captivating bright eyes had your knees weak. So much so that you’d ignored all of the red flags, like how he’d stare at you in such an intense manner, with eyes fixated on you and only you, how he seemed to distrust Aether, a trusted friend of his, when it came to him accompanying you, or how as soon as you’d met you had the horrible sensation of being watched at all times of the day. Just thinking back to all the warning signs you’d missed made your skin crawl. Perhaps if you hadn’t been such a lovesick idiot you’d be at home right now or eating dinner with Chongyun and Xingqiu, trying out one of Xianglings crazy concoctions containing slime condensate or whopper flower nectar.

Instead, you were trapped in an artificial world, in a room that looked horrifyingly similar to your own back home.

You were snapped out of your reverie by Xiao moving closer to your bed.

“Let me go home,” you said, hating how your voice cracked at the end. You felt so pathetic, you always prided yourself on being a headstrong independent person, and here you were, cowering at his closeness and avoiding all eye contact, as if looking at his pain filled eyes would ruin you.

“You are home,” he retorted, his voice bordering on delusion, “This is your home. This is where you're safe. Where you stay alive and I get to keep you forever.”

Xiao stretched out his arm, as if to cradle your cheek in his hand but before he got to you flinched away, backing away from him as far as you could, back hitting the headboard. You looked away, trying to ignore how guilty the pain that flashed through his eyes made you feel. You shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty.  He should be. He’s the one that stole you away from your home. He’s the one that ruined your life.

You look down at the violetgrass broach clasped onto your blouse in nothing short of complete and utter loathing. You’d been so captivated by it when you’d first found it at the antique shop while window shopping with Mr. Zhongli.

It had been exactly six months since you’d moved away from your home in the sleepy Qingce Village in exchange for a job at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and a quaint apparently in the bustling city of Liyue Harbor. To celebrate, your coworker (and the person you had been shadowing in order to learn the ropes of the funeral business) Mr. Zhongli had insisted on going to Third-Round Knockout for some dinner. You’d been a bit hesitant at first, mostly because you knew well of the elegant gentleman’s habit of forgetting his wallet, but you enjoyed hearing his stories far too much to say no. Something about his retellings of stories about the Adepti just enraptured you.

Afterward, the two of you had decided to walk around the city and look at the displays in shops, since you had decided that your hard work warranted splurging a little as a reward of sorts. You had of course asked Mr. Zhongli to join you since he had such exquisite taste and an eye for the authentic, you valued his opinion greatly.

That’s how the two of you ended up at Xigu Antiques, browsing the display case. All of a sudden, your eyes zeroed in on a broach that resembles a little violetgrass plant, its downturned leaves made up of what you could only guess was noctilucous jade. It was, for lack of a better word, stunning.

“Mr. Zhongli,” you exclaimed, tugging at his sleeve to call his attention away from a porcelain teapot with gold little geo symbols as decoration, “what do you think of this one? It’s quite beautiful isn’t it?”

The dark-haired man looked at the broach you were pointing at before going tense, a small gasp escaping him as his beautiful amber eyes widened slightly. You looked at him in concern, you’d never seen the man come this close to losing his composure.

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat, “is this the one you’re thinking of purchasing? I’d advise against it. Even by just a mere glance, I can tell it is not made of real noctilucous jade.”

Strangely, you felt as though he wasn’t being truthful with you.

“Well, that’s alright. I don’t really care about the authenticity and it’s pretty cheap. If it is a fake, I don’t really have much to lose. Plus, I’ve always loved violetgrass. This broach could be like a little homage to that!” You answered, letting out a little giggle.

“You’ve heard of the Vigilant Yaksha and the violetgrass maiden, am I correct?” He asked.

“Oh, yes I have! My Gran used to tell it to me and the rest of the village children back when I was young. It always made me so sad, how they can never be together. It was pretty silly now that I think about it, but I would bawl my eyes out every time. The rest of the kids would tease me a bit but I just couldn’t control it,” you reminisced.

“I- well, yes in any case, they say that anyone who possesses that broach will be cursed to meet the same fate,” Zhongli added, trying his best to dissuade you from buying the old broach, dread creeping into his stomach as he thought of what might happen to you- to the both of you.

“Of course you’d believe old supersticiones, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, letting out a lighthearted laugh that could make any heart, even one of stone, melt, “it’s very on brand! However, I’m sure there’s no need to be worried, after all, it’s nothing but an old myth! And even if it is real, you yourself said that it’s not made of the real stuff.”

Before Zhongli could figure a way to change the unchangeable, you had already purchased the broach. As you kept on leading the funeral consultant around the streets of Liyue Harbor, bag in hand, prattling on about anything and everything, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink. A single thought, the same one you would later have, crossed his mind.

If only you hadn’t bought that goddamned broach.

In a fit of anger and desperation, you ripped the detested broach off of your shirt, throwing it at Xiao. You hoped it would somehow break into millions of tiny pieces.

After a beat of silence, Xiao spoke, “Eat.”

“No,” you yelled, before breaking down into a fit of angry sob, “I hate you!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Xiao lurched forward so close your noses were almost touching, and for a second you think he’s gonna hit you but instead, he simply rests his forehead on yours and closes his eyes. When he pulls away, your sobs have waned into hiccups. Without saying so much as a word Xiao clasps the violetgrass broach onto your shirt, where it belongs.

“Eat,” is all he says, placing the now lukewarm soup into your hands.

Scared, tired, and sad, you do as he said, taking small sips of the admittedly tasty dish. He does nothing more than stare at her with those intense amber eyes of his for a few minutes before turning around and heading towards the door.

Before he leaves he turns his head back to look at her and says, “I don’t care if you don’t like me. Hate me for all I care. As long as you stay alive I don’t care.”

[justanobsessedfangirl]

The Sacrifice Part 2 - The Maze Runner Minho Imagine

Request from @elizabeth-brown: hey when your requests will be open can you do 'the maze runner' one with minho. where one day when new greenie was coming up he had letter with him. on it there was written that if they sacrificed y/n they would let everyone out. so keepers decided to vote. most of them voted 'yes' so without any emotions Alby kick y/n into the maze. then minho realized his feelings. y/n survived the maze and WCKED took her. after one year she escaped WCKED and ran into the scorch. Minho missed her miserably. y/n searched the safe heaven. and when Group A searched safe heaven they saw y/n and she was so mad. you can end it however you want either she forgives them or not. and please tag me

Masterlist

Part 1

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the kind words! I really appreciate all of it! :)

Word Count: 3.8k

The sun was rising. You stared up at it as you walked, your cracked lips parted, mouth dry beyond belief. The cloth you’d wrapped around your head was already growing warm. Beneath your long-sleeved shirt and jeans, your body was scarred with sunburns. Your backpack hung heavy on your shoulders and scraped against your back painfully. Still, you kept walking through the sand.

Crumbling buildings lined the barren street. At the end, next to an intersection, you saw one that still had an intact roof. You willed yourself to move faster, but your steps continued in the same plodding manner as before. The sun beat down heavier.

A dry wind whispered past, bringing swirls of sand to flight. They looked beautiful in the golden rays of the morning but cut like glass as they whipped past your cheeks. With a grimace, you reached a weathered hand up and pulled some loose cloth farther over your face, squinting your eyes for protection. The sound of your heavy breathing filled your ears.

How familiar that was. How familiar exertion was. Before you could stop yourself from thinking, from remembering, you saw his face. He was by your side, smiling, goading you to run faster. He was betting you that he could reach the doors first.

“If I win, you owe me half your dinner,” came his playful tease, so vividly that you almost thought it was real. If you let your gaze wander, you could barely make out a mirage of him jogging ahead of you.

What was it you’d said, back in that other life, where you ran the Maze and lived in the Glade and weren’t as alone? You smacked your lips together now, looking for any moisture, and croaked, in a hoarse voice, “What do I get if I win?” The effort made you cough. Stopping in your tracks, you doubled over hacking. You expected to see the worn stone of the Maze beneath your feet, but there was only sand. Knives scraped your throat. You tasted blood.

“You can have anything you want,” Minho responded. You lifted your head, hoping for a glimpse of his face and seeing only sand.

Tears filled your eyes. You wanted Minho with you, right now. You wanted to not be alone. You wanted to not be here, to not have made any of these choices, to not have to keep going and keep trying and keep surviving all because of one promise. You wanted to reach the doors -- no, not the Maze doors, never the Maze doors again, the doors to a crumbling building in a crumbling town in the sun-baked, sand-ridden, abandoned Scorch.

Straightening up, you started for the building again. You reached it in a few long, purposeful strides. The door hung half off its hinges. You slipped inside, shutting it as best you could behind you, hoping that would keep at least some sand out. The inside was blessedly dark. The front room seemed kind of like a cafeteria, with a few tables and chairs and a long counter at the back. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you remembered the last cafeteria you’d been in. You wanted to spit on this place as payback.

Instead, you walked behind the counter, sunk to your knees, shrugged off your backpack, and curled into a ball. Your head pounded. You squeezed your eyes closed, pressed your palms to your temples, tried to hold back any more tears. The memory of Minho floated to the front of your mind again.

“No need to cry,” you could hear him saying. You could almost feel him tuck a finger under your chin, like he’d done before, and raise your head. “I’m still here.” And then you opened your eyes, hoping to see that cocky grin that would make the whole world would seem a little better.

But Minho wasn’t there. You weren’t in the Glade anymore. You weren’t even with WICKED anymore. You were somewhere in the middle of the Scorch, alone and trying to survive and failing.

With trembling fingers, you unzipped your backpack and pulled out your last bottle of water. It was half-empty. You stared at it numbly. How far could half a bottle of water take you? When you used to run the Maze, a lifetime ago, you never went in without at least one canteen full. Minho had teased you during your first run for taking three. You wondered what he would say now.

“We’ll figure it out together. We’ll get out together.” That’s what he would say. That’s what he had said, right before you went into the Maze for the last time.

I tried, Minho. You wanted to scream it out to the Scorch, let every damn Crank within a hundred miles of you hear it. Maybe Minho would hear it too, back at the WICKED compound, back in the Glade. He said he would find you. You’d repeated his words so many times in your head that they were practically imprinted in your brain. They were like a touchstone, something you remembered for luck and courage.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he’d said.

You’d never said it back. You wished you’d said it back.

You forced yourself to stop remembering and took a sip of water. It was like ice filtering through magma cracks, soothing, soothing, soothing, and then gone, evaporating and leaving behind seething bubbles of lava. You wanted more. You wanted so much more for yourself.

You twisted the cap back on and shoved your water into your bag before you did something you’d regret. Leaning against the counter, you let your eyes close. Fatigue made your limbs heavy, and the warm air settled over you like a blanket. You hoped the sun would be gone when you woke up. Then you would walk, as you had for countless nights, with no real directions in mind, only the understanding that you needed to keep moving or else you would die. Somewhere out there, there was a safe haven.

But in your dreams, there was darkness, and in the darkness, there were Grievers. The Maze walls, dripping with ivy, closed in around you as you ran. Your breaths came short and fast, more from fear than effort. You had no bag, no weapons, just the shoes on your feet and a little bit of hope in your chest. But the Grievers were closing in.

Mechanical limbs whirred, slamming against the Maze floor so forcefully the ground seemed to shake. You whipped your head around, caught a glimpse of them, turned back and ran faster, looked again and saw them even closer. Metal clanged together, the sound of razor-sharp fangs gnashing, slick with slime. A rush of wind sliced past your arm. You tried to move faster, just a little faster, just enough to keep narrowly avoiding the Griever’s claws, just enough, please, just enough to make it to sunrise--

A wave of fire burned a line across your back. The pain was white-hot, so bad you couldn’t keep your eyes open, you were stumbling and faltering and barely moving and the Griever was going to get you, only with your next step you felt nothing but open space and then you were falling and falling and falling.

You hit the ground so hard the air went out of you, and only then did you realize you’d been screaming. A moment of shock passed. Then you shrieked again. Your back burned with pain, but it wasn’t fire, not like you’d thought at first, it was a cut, huge and sprawling and parting the flesh of your back. Blood drenched your shirt. You screamed, blind with pain and fear, waiting for the Griever to finish you off or sting you and send you into a spiral of even greater misery.

Something grabbed your arms, hoisted you up, strapped you down. The Grievers have me, they’ve got me, they’re going to kill me, you thought, even as you felt human hands and heard human voices and saw human faces.

“No!” You caught a glimpse of one of them holding a syringe, a Griever in disguise. Twisting away, trying to avoid it, you let out a scream so loud you thought your vocal cords would be torn to shreds, just like your back, just like the ravaged mess that was left of your back. The needle pierced your skin.

Immediately, your yells dropped off. The people or the Grievers or the Grievers masquerading as people laid you face down on a stretcher. You couldn’t move your neck, or your arms, or your feet, but every step they took as they carried you sent bolts of lightning through your body. Your face was wet with tears, with blood. The jostling stopped. Every nerve in your body rebelled in pain, and then there was a cold hand on your cheek, forcing your chin up. Grinning down at you was the face of the devil.

You woke now with a start, a cool sheen of sweat coating your body, phantom pains chilling your back. Your heart thundered wildly. Acting on pure instinct, you shot to your feet, looking frantically around the room. She would be there, you were sure of it. The devil, with her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, her lips painted red with the blood of her victims.

But the room was dark and empty and you were alone.

You untensed with a long, slow exhalation. Tiny daggers still ran up and down your spine, dancing along the scars the WICKED doctors had said they couldn’t fix.

“An unfortunate variable,” the devil had said about the Grievers, “but necessary.”

Necessary.

You spat on the floor, wishing it was her pristine white cafeteria, half-hoping you’d look up and see her standing there so you could strangle her. But that thought was fleeting and your head shot back up in fear, scanning the room again and again to reassure yourself that Dr. Paige was nowhere to be seen.

When you were sure there was no one lurking in the night-shadowed corners, you hefted your backpack onto your shoulders and made for the door. Outside, the desert air was chill and dry. The occasional wind stirred the sand as you walked, footsteps making quiet whispers along the dusty sidewalk. Moonlight paved the way forward.

Goosebumps covered your arms as you replayed your dream, your memories, over again. Yes, the Grievers had gotten you, but not the ones in the Maze. It was the hidden Grievers, the ones who said they were good, and that they were going to save the world, and that you were helping.

“Thank you for participating, Y/N,” Dr. Paige had said. “I’m sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The data we gathered on the group’s response to a requested sacrifice will prove very useful, I assure you.” And she’d smiled at you. She’d actually smiled, pointy, predatory canines on full display behind her parted red lips. “The data from your response will also be very beneficial. Thank you once more for your participation.”

You were too shocked. You were in too much pain. The synapses in your brain weren’t firing correctly, still stuck trying to piece together that the sacrifice was some kind of test. An unfortunate variable. “What...what happens next?”

Dr. Paige had already left. Someone lower in the chain of command gave you a nonanswer about your role in Phase One being complete.

“But what happens in Phase Two?”

There was no answer to that question, no matter how many times you asked. You asked when you were stable enough to be moved to your own room, when you were compliant enough to walk the halls of the facility with a chaperone, when you were obedient enough to eat in the cafeteria among the staff members.

“WICKED is good,” they’d say. And then they would smile at you.

You shuffled through the sand. Reaching a hand, which you pretended wasn’t trembling, into the side pocket of your bag, you pulled out a meal replacement pouch with WICKED emblazoned on its side. Even as you ate, you worried. The dream loomed over you like a heavy cloud, and your food supply was dwindling. You wished for a sip of water, just a taste, a small trickle to wet your lips, something to help the powdery bar go down.

You wished you’d started hoarding food at WICKED earlier. It was only when you noticed that change was coming, that the air was electric and the people were alive, that you started to slip items from the cafeteria into your bag. The doctors had stopped ordering you in for blood tests and scans, which they had pretended were for your back, and then they stopped sending you a chaperone. It was almost like freedom.

“Code Green. I repeat, Code Green. All personnel begin preparations for Phase Two. I repeat…” The message came over the speakers while you were in your room, a barebones cell with a cot and a desk. In a flash, you were on your feet, pouncing on the opportunity. You slung your WICKED bag over your shoulders, ignoring the discomfort as it pressed into your bandaged back. Peering through the crack in your door, you couldn’t see anyone in the hall. The lights were flashing in time with the announcement, strobes of green slicing across the walls. Holding your breath in anticipation, you tried the door handle. Unlocked.

Heart fluttering, you pulled it open a crack and slipped through, shutting it gently behind you. No chaperone sitting outside. No guards patrolling. No people at all. You bolted down the hall.

Thinking about it now, as you finished your second to last meal replacement, the perishable food long since gone, you wondered why it was so easy.

Phase One. Phase Two. Thank you for your participation. An unfortunate variable. Unfortunate unfortunate unfortunate thank you for participating thank you for the data thank you for trying thank you for dying. Phase Two, I should have raided the cafeteria will you be in the cafeteria, Minho are you in the kitchen? Where are you where am I why is this happening what is--

Welcome to Phase Two.

You crumpled the meal replacement package in your hand and threw it into the air, letting it fly with the wind.

Minho’s voice was in your head. “I’ll raid the kitchen, the Med-jack Hut, bring us weapons.”

You shook your head and it faded. “I would have done it if you were there,” you said. Your voice was a croak. You cleared your throat and tried, “I would have…” The words floated away. I would have tried harder to survive.

“I tried so hard, Minho.” You thought of your bottle of water, only a few sips left. “I tried to wait for you in the Maze, but WICKED took me.” Grievers and white-clothed doctors and searing pain. “I tried to wait for you at WICKED, but...I think they let me escape.” An unlocked door, no patrolling guards. The vast expanse of the Scorch beyond, and a snippet of an overheard conversation about a safe haven at the end. “I tried to reach the end. But I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” Sand. So much sand. Lightning storms and a burning, vengeful sun, and a throat so dry it hurt. “I can’t do this anymore.”

And still, you walked. Because there was nothing else to do. Because you were a Runner and Runners never stopped. Because you thought this might be another test, another phase, and you wanted to reach the end. Because the mirage of Minho was nearby, talking.

“We’re almost there,” he said. You rubbed your sand-crusted eyes and tried to find him. “We have to keep going.”

Other voices chimed in, pitched low and hard to hear. You hoped you could hallucinate Newt, too, and maybe Zart and Frypan, who had tried to help, had tried, just like you tried. You moved faster, feet cleaving through drifts of sand.

“There it is!”

You missed the sound of an excited Minho. You remembered the first time he’d had a little too much to drink at a bonfire, and he’d picked you up and twirled you around. You’d never smiled so much.

The memory used to be good, then it turned painful, and now you were just numb.

You kept walking. Around you, the city was fading into sand. Ahead stood a tall dune. You wanted to stop and stare and convince yourself to turn around. But you kept walking. Behind the dune, you’d see Minho and Newt and Zart and Frypan and maybe even Alby, and maybe you would forgive Alby, or maybe not, but you would still see him because everyone would be there.

You boot punched a hole into the sand dune, sending streams of gritty yellow dust cascading down the slope. Stepping forward again, you sunk into sand up to your mid-calf. Again and again, and then you stumbled and fell in up to your elbows, and still, you crawled.

“We can do this,” Minho said, from somewhere above or behind or by your side. He was climbing with you, barely out of sight. His playful grin was audible.

“Bet I can beat you to the top,” you said before he could.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked.

You smiled and there were tears in your eyes and sand on your cheeks. “You can have anything you want.” And you climbed higher.

“I want you to say it back. Please say it back, Y/N. Please.” His voice was fading. You were leaving him behind as you neared the top.

Sand burrowed into the lines of your face, past the seams of your clothes, finding every nook and cranny of your body to hide in. It was in your mouth, your ears, your eyes. You struggled to breathe. Your head felt as light as a cloud. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you finally promised as you reached the empty crest. Still on hands and knees, you peered over the other side of the dune. The slope was empty. Everything was empty.

You rolled onto your back, eyes shut against the fading night sky. Your arm bumped against something stiff. Reaching a hand out blindly, groping for it, you came back with a stick. You looked at it through squinted eyes. Atop the stick was a flag, and on the flag in big, thick letters, the same font WICKED used for everything, were the words, “Safe Haven.”

You laughed. The bitter chuckle was alone in the Scorch. Overhead, the sky was lightening, and soon you would be alone in the daylight of the Scorch, alone in the Safe Haven.

Shrugging your backpack off, you reached inside for your water and the last of your food. The bottle was empty. You didn’t remember finishing it, but you figured you must have. You chucked it to the side, listening as it rolled down the sand dune. You wouldn’t need that anymore. The air grew warmer as dawn approached and you opened your last meal replacement. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could hear voices. You wondered if you were going crazy, decided you didn’t care because you had tried Minho I really tried I’m sorry please promise me I’ll see you tomorrow please don’t let it end like this please.

You took a bite of the crumbling meal replacement bar and immediately spit it back out. It had soaked up the last bit of moisture in your mouth. You tossed the package to the side, where you’d abandoned your water and your will.

The sky grew pink and orange and yellow, and, finally, there was the sun, high in the sky, and you had no idea how much time had passed while you stared, and you didn’t care. There was no further destination in mind. This was it. And with the sun up there and you down here, you hoped that maybe this wouldn’t count as dying alone.

“There it is!” Minho again. Funny how he kept saying that. And then the voices of the other Gladers chimed in again. You wondered if you would keep replaying that moment until you finally passed. You wondered how it would feel. You wondered if there was water on the other side.

The sand rushed down the sides of the dune in waterfalls. You could hear it, even if you didn’t have the energy to look. It sounded like a whisper. Beneath the whisper was the panting of a group of people.

Runners, you thought. All of the Runners before and all of the Runners after, coming to take me away. Would Minho be among them? Was he dead, like you and like those sad souls who’d been killed by the Grievers (An unfortunate variable, but necessary) and all of the people who’d gotten the Flare, which you barely understood because no one had answered any of your questions?

Why is this happening and where am I going and what do I do and how did I get here and when can I go home, please bring me home, I want to go home and I want to see Minho one last time because I never promised him back and I should have.

“Y/N?”

Minho. You didn’t have the energy to speak or even open your eyes to see the hallucination.

“Y/N!” Feet pounding against sand, then hands on your arms, looping around your back, pulling you close and shielding you from the sun. “Wake up, Y/N. Clint!”

No, Clint wasn’t supposed to be here. Clint had voted for you to be sent into the Maze. You were pretty sure you used to hate him for that, but hate took so much energy, and you just wanted to pretend Minho was holding you until you didn’t have to think anymore.

The people nearby talked unintelligibly, oscillating between murmurs and gleeful shouts. There was cotton in your ears and a blindfold over your eyes and strong hands on your back, propping you up. Then there was a splash of water on your face and the world opened up again.

There was Minho. Better than in your memories, because he was here, in full color, so perfect you needed to squint. He was on his knees and holding you. Above, Clint was pouring water over your head. All around you were Gladers.

“Minho?” you croaked, although there was no question who it was. Dark brown eyes, now filled with tears. Full lips curved up in a smile. Scatters of freckles across his cheeks. Minho.

Minho nodded and pulled you into a hug. “I thought…” he trailed off. Then he laughed, a sound so bright and so happy that the water on your skin felt a touch cooler, the sun on your shoulders a shade dimmer. “I should’ve known you’d survive.”

“There’s no safe haven,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

Minho shook his head, still buried in your neck. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Smiling, you pressed a hand to his cheek, coaxing him to look at you. When he did, you leaned in and finally felt at home.

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

Author's Note: I wanted to put a longer, more serious note at the end instead of the beginning so I wouldn't deter any newcomers from reading. I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for letting me try out this style! I'm not very happy with how this turned out but it was good practice. Hopefully, I can use this experience and write better pieces in the future. Thanks again for letting me experiment and for the encouragement. And my requests are always open :)

Tag List: @officialfictionalwreck @elizabeth-brown @newtsgirl-hehe @jjjmaybank @adoregin

[mirambles]

Love All Play - Yuk Junghwan

I started Love All Play because I’m biased towards sports based dramas and movies. So I will watch irrespective of the cast. The leads I have seen in some dramas before , I knew their performance would be good if the script was good - but the one actor and character that has surprised me is Kim Moo Joon’s Yuk JungHwan.

Let me clarify upfront, Yuk JungHwan is a snob and arrogant most times and I get why folks find him a spoilt brat and an a**hole. But what I don’t know yet is, if this behaviour of his is a defence mechanism to not let people know of his inner turmoil & vulnerability .

Yuk JungHwan clearly knows how good he is and I agree that he is a bit of an ass to his teammates and coaches, behaving like one prima donna. But at the same time he is also protective of his teammates - like the time he was not afraid to confront the national team coach for penalising his doubles partner, or being most empathetic to SeonSoo when he loses his first coach. He says to SeonSoo ‘His (coach) faith in your abilities is yours to keep forever’ - that’s all that SeonSoo needed to boost his falling confidence in that moment. Or when he doesn’t think twice to rush to get cake for SeonSoo’s bday and give him a piggyback ride to fulfill his wish. You see glimpses of his personality where he genuinely cares for his teammates.

His anger and hatred towards Taeyang is therefore not understandable, he seems a reasonable fellow but clearly one can get blind-sided if the person you loved has been hurt and your relationship borne the brunt of the incident. So the ability to self reflect, dissect logically goes out of the window and you only want someone to blame your misery on and Taeyang is an easy target for him. I hope the rest half of the drama will throw some insight into his attitude towards Taeyang and allow him redemption; he is not an evil person, he is just caught up in his own misery - and yes that’s not excuse to be a dick to Taeyang or others, but we have seen far worse leads being redeemed or hailed , so JungHwan’s redemption will come and is much needed.

But here are the things I do love about him and this is all credit to Kim Moo Joon’s cute face, his natural comic timing and his straight faced ability to deliver sarcastic retorts.

I do love guys who are sarcastic with sharp comebacks and I enjoy seeing JungHwan in this element. Also at the same time he gets flustered easily , gets a taste of his own medicine a lot from TaeJun (cue Boys be Ambitious 😂) and Yumin (subtle threats to tame his arrogant behaviour even for now if it is just where it concerns her dad).

The way he fell when carrying the cake after taking a diss at Taejun and Taeyang for walking slow and both giving him back in same vein, instead of showing concern, is exactly how he needed to be dealt with and I loved, loved Kim Moo Joon’s priceless expression during those 2 whole minutes :)

He is definitely attracted to Yumin , but is unable to let go of his first love, which he should by now; honestly if she has ghosted you for 3 years and then drops a random message like nothing happened, isn’t that a clue to move on? I’m invested in his and Yumin’s relationship because she is confident where he stands in her life, it’s him being all flustered and awkward at the same time trying to act über cool, which is most amusing to watch right now.

But most of all I love his and TaeJun’s rivalry on court and off court. TaeJun leaves no stone unturned to piss off JungHwan, JungHwan also does despicable things (taking TaeJun’s racket was wrong on so many levels) in his hate to Taeyang and TaeJun. But TaeJun is neither in awe of him nor fears him like other teammates and doesn’t hesitate to show him the mirror. This is the kind of teammate and friend (which am hoping will happen in future) is what JungHwan needs right now. TaeJun is more sorted emotionally than JungHwan and JungHwan needs to mature emotionally. I enjoy their sparring battles and childish banters , but I’m waiting for them to turn buddies, if not best friends; then at least crackling teammates on court. I hope to see them have healthy respect for each other by the end of the drama and yes for JungHwan to find his happy ending with Yumin.

Gif credits to @seawherethesunsets and @junghaesin

[makingspiritualityreal]

Numerology Life Path 7 - Your Birth Card and its Ruling Planet

Numerology Life Path Numbers and their assigned Tarot Card Meaning Series This is a post in my new astrology/numerology/tarot series, that only concerns you, if you are a Life Path 7. Posts on consecutive Life Path Numbers will follow. Originally, I wanted to do them all in one post, but my writing turned out to be so long, I decided to split the post and seperate the Life Path Numbers. The introduction part of the post will be the same for all Life Path Numbers, in case you only read a post about your own Life Path Number, and nothing else. Introduction The concept of a Birth Card links Tarot and Numerology together, in order to deepen our understanding of a vibration of a Life Path Number we are born with. The Birth Card, or rather Birth Cards, are Major Arcana Tarot Cards with assigned numbers, which correlate with Life Path Numbers. Understanding the meaning of tarot cards, mixed with the knowledge of Numerology Vibrations, helps create a more unique vision of your life experience. A person with any given Life Path Number, having several Major Arcana energies present in their lives, usually struggles with one of the energies more than the other. As a result, life will probably force them to focus on mastering one of these energies. In general, however, any Life Path describes both your biggest downfall and ultimate triumph - just like with an Astrology Chart, the highlighted numbers/astrology houses point to your biggest strengths and weaknesses. For a better understanding of this concept, visit my article “Natal Chart - A map of your issues?” Remember, that everyone, besides their Life Path Number and Birth Card also has a unique astrology chart. Thus, for some people embracing the higher expression of their energy is easier, for others it’s harder and it takes more time to master, and some energies become easier to deal with than others. Most human beings are somewhere in between, working on their path and having some achievements while struggling with difficulties at the same time. In the spiritual community, there are differences in opinion on linking Astrological Planets and positions to specific numerology numbers energies. My take is a result of my own personal experience, conversations with other people in my field and research, in order to give you the widest possible spectrum of ideas and increase the understanding of every Life Path Number. If you are a Master Number 11, 22 or 33, there will be a seperate post on how the Birth Cards apply to you as well. Even If you have only a basic understanding of Astrology, Tarot or Numerology, this post will still be helpful to you, because it describes the unique vibrational mix that comes from the expression of both these spiritual sciences mixed together. To calculate which Tarot Cards and what Life Path correspond to your birthday, click here.

Life Path 7 - The Chariot and The Tower

The energies of a Life Path 7 are ruled by the ephemeral, compassionate, wise vibrations of Ketu and Neptune. This can make it one of the most challenging Life Paths to navigate, as it requires a higher level of spiritual mastery and an ability to constantly assume a bigger picture perspective. That is a difficult thing to do in a world so highly revolving around materialistic concepts. Yet, if you are born with this Life Path Number, a certain free-spirited attitude and refusal to be sucked down into too many mundane details is something you need to develop within yourself.

Such a highly spiritual soul purpose associated with a Life Path 7 is due to Ketu being one of the primary rulers of this Life Path Number. Ketu, ruling detachment from the material realm, forces this life path to focus more on the energetic manifestation of their physicality instead of trying to navigate it through practical means. Ketu is also highly analytical, making this people excel at tasks, that require solitude, contemplation of abstract concepts and individual work. These people can make excellent writers or inspired researchers.

The other planet associated with a Life Path 7 is Neptune, the agent of universal, humanitarian compassion. That gives this Life Path a very loving, yet impersonal nature, where they express caring and kindness towards humanity and people in general, but may remain confused in one-on-one relationships. In this way, a Life Path 7 is a flip side of a Life Path 2, who thrives in intimate situations, but should open up more to group activities. A Life Path 7 naturally seeks out crowds, where they can occasionally show up and recharge on their need for a collective exchange of compassionate energy. Yet, in private situations, they can struggle to focus on their partner, open up or truly connect with another, as they are always absorbed in their own little world.

Because of Neptune being such a high vibrational planet and Ketu giving the ultimate higher-dimensional mastery, the spiritual consequences of wrongdoing for this life path are more severe than for others. These people need a moral compass, spiritually, the most of all life paths. In extreme cases, I have seen Life Path 7s fall prey to accidents and disease, if they succumbed to the temptation of their lower instincts.

Because of Neptune's influence on this Life Path there can be a significant difficulty in finding their way out in this material world, which can lead to poverty or other practical problems. If one neglects consulting their higher, intuitive nature and stays within the confines of the material, there may be an illusion of desire for a get rich quick scheme due to an innate lack of practical sense or ability to build without external help. These people, if they overfocus on the material realm, may get frustrated due to lack of dividends or practical rewards, or they may simply waste their resources away due to an internal feeling of emptiness and dissatisfaction. If they get overwhelmed with this conflicting energy and forget to search within, they may forget their true purpose altogether. Yet, because of the foggy energy surrounding this Life Path, they don't have the capacity to intellectually or physically fully power through their problems like other life paths do, and they shouldn't even try. The only solution is going with the flow of their natural spiritual direction. That is imperative, as breaking out of this flow causes poverty, debt, sickness, forced isolation and all sorts of trouble in the physical world. Material prosperity will only appear in this person's life proportionate to their level of spiritual prosperity.

Associated Tarot Cards point the way for a Life Path 7 towards assuming a successful direction in this incarnation.

The Tower - This card is the testing moment, when we lose everything that we are used to having around us. But the purpose of this loss is always in our highest good. This is why things fall away at a critical point in our lives, when the foundation is so corrupted it can no longer support itself. The Tower is actually a tool of keeping things in check spiritually, meaning then when things go too far down the wrong direction, the Universe balances it with a Tower moment in order to prevent an imbalanced energy from growing further. The Tower points to this Life Path's ability to discard the excessive burden of material illusions and continuously purge in order to make sure one remains "pure", spiritually, free of self-deception and in tune with one's inner guideline.

The Chariot - The Chariot is linked to Ketu's thoughtless manifestation, that this Life Path possesses. A Life Path 7, regardless of their spiritual inclination, needs a firm direction not to drown in their negativity. Even for this Life Path, their spiritual nature needs to have anchor in the physical world, that keeps them on track with their journey. That anchor is balance, that the Chariot card represents, the balance between their inner shadow and light. A mature Life Path 7 knows how to preserve that balance, and drive that carriage effortlessly.

A Life Path 7 should never choose an easy way out, as it will backfire for them more than for anyone else. Not only will it cause misery internally, but also externally people will mirror it to them and they will be disapproved of for their wrongdoings more than any other Life Path number. It is as if others subconsciously sense their higher nature and place expectations on them to act accordingly with it, so where other Life Paths might get a pass, this Life Path number will not. In reality, it is the Universe's tool to assure that these natives stay on their correct, spiritual path, and it is Life Path 7s themselves that have a high level of subconscious, spiritual analysis and self-judgment. As a result, any negativity that comes their way from the outside is a projection resulting from their own deeply rooted high spiritual expectations, and an internal disappointment, if they are not met.

The best advice a Life Path 7 can hear is that it will always pay off for them practically to be kind and preserve their spiritual integrity. It is essential for this Life Path to realise, that any lower energies they invite for short-term gain will immediately backfire, and deep down they are unhappy with themselves for making any wrong choices in the first place. Ketu has a perfectionist nature to it, and a Life Path 7, whether they realise it or not, has a deep level of internalised spiritual perfectionism. An unaware Life Path 7 can become judgmental, trying to hold others to this high standard that they carry internally, while refusing to face their own actions. This process is simply a mirrored expression of a desire, to reach that point of excellence by themselves.

If you are a Life Path 7, solitude is something essential to your well-being. Make sure your lifestyle allows you to make time for yourself. It is in isolation, away from the external noise that may unnecessarily cause you to project your spiritual desires on others, that you can work on yourself, find truth and connection to your ultimate power of deep, analytical understanding of this existence.

[lovextriangle]

Imagine Kili after the Battle of the Five Armies

The battle was over. Yet, that didn’t mean much to Kili now, not when the price for such victory was too costly. He knew this was what everyone had hoped for, to beat the dragon, to reclaim their home no matter who stood in there way. Be it man, elf, or orc. At some point in time all had tried to stop them, events led to sides switching and the good prevailed against evil once more in Middle Earth. But losing them was never part of the plan.

The tears swelled up in his eyes as he thought back to his uncle, lying back on the frozen lake. He didn’t want to think about how the color of the ice had looked like Thorin’s eyes, so glazed over, no longer there. But the tears started to fall when he thought of his brother. Fili, his dearest brother, who had been ambushed by Azog. It was antagonizing to remember how the blade had been shoved through his twin’s chest. Kili clenched his fingers into his palms, Fili’s lifeless body being thrown to the bottom of the icy ridge.

Thorin had been the one to get revenge from Azog, which left Kili to the rest of the bottom-feeders. Pure rage was what had pushed him through, after it was all said and done he collapsed and was almost thought dead himself. Covered in blood of his and others. Death was too sweet of an escape from the reality Kili had to face now. A world where his family was ripped apart and thrown away and he had to fill in the place that was meant for others.

You knew of all these troubles that Kili was facing, that Kili was thinking of daily. Even three years after the Battle of the Five Armies, the funerals, and his enunciation as King Under the Mountain. That mountain being Erebor of course, the mountain that the company, and especially his Uncle had worked so hard to gain back. You had a feeling Kili still didn’t feel like it was his place or his right, he was a very young king for dwarf standards. His beard still peach fuzz and lack of growing.

It had been your duty ever since Kili was declared king to be his auditor. Almost like an advisor but for more personal, non-kingdom related issues. You were a great listener from an early age. All else that was needed was a soft tone, and kind eyes. Both of which you seemed blessed with. Today’s talk had been sudden as it was right after a council meeting with some of Kili’s old company members. Most had joined in high ranks, rightfully earned by their contribution to their journey and loyalty.

You sat across from the king, legs crossed underneath your dress. You sat upright and waiting for him to begin, but you had a feeling this session would be an intense one. So instead of keeping silent, you said, “Usually we stick to the planned schedule your Highness,” the upcoming meeting had been just two days later. “but you called for me sooner, may I ask why?” You had an idea as to why, but the process would only be helpful to Kili if he himself understood why he choose to seek you sooner.

“I couldn’t wait til then.” His words were clipped and on the other side of short table sat Kili. His hands holding the armrest on either side. He looked strained, nearly holding himself together. “What happened today?” Your tone was soft and soothing, trying to calm his nerves. What usually worked only had Kili flinching back, cringing at the thought of what put his mind into such unrest. “I thought I could get through the meeting..” his dark brown eyes were glued to the wall behind you. “but knowing them, things wouldn’t be over unless they were mentioned.”

Balin had called the meeting to a close, the diplomatic talk subsided into more friendly converse. Kili was happy to just sit and listen in on his old friends conversations, thinking more about what meal he would have. That is until he heard, “ah I still remember as if it were yesterday. Thorin herding us together, wee lads Kili and Fili…”

It only took their names for Kili to go into a shock of memories. What would have been happiness was replaced by loneliness and misery, a pain so heart-wrenching took over his lungs, as if he had been punched several times in the gut. He staggered to his feet, wanting to hear no more. “Kil- your Majesty?” Oin was just as startled from the abrupt motion from his left. “Are you alri-“

“Leave me be.” Kili bellowed and he shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see any of their pained faces. Knowing all of them would see him as weak, what they could get over was something he couldn’t bare to think about. Kili turned for the door, exiting the room and immediately his guards were by his side. “Tell y/n to meet me immediately.” No mention of the place was needed, his close guards knew where the both of you met regularly.

None of this needed to be stated for you to understand what Kili had meant by them or they. This hadn’t been the first time nor would it be the last, some things never healed. But you had hope for the healing, because no matter the severity time could mend the broken.

“I see their faces, cold and undead more often when their names are spoken aloud.” Thorin and Fili would have such a disdainful gaze, both staring from the ground which they were sprawled upon. Staring Kili down, eyes that said, “You didn’t save us” or “You should’ve joined us” it made chills run through the brown haired dwarf. He rubbed his thumbs against his temple, trying to ease the headache and make the images go away.

At times like these, words were hard to say. What could you say to someone who couldn’t stand to here the name of their own beloved uncle or twin because of such a tragedy. They were brutally killed by evil creatures who tortured for fun. They were killed for wanting their homeland back. They had been killed and it wasn’t Kili’s fault. But he felt the blame, and part of him didn’t want to exist in a world without his close kin.

The silence was thick and though it was your job to listen, you knew in this moment something needed to be said. “My king, no one but yourself blames you for the tragedy,” you continued on trying your best to maintain eye contact, “They risked their lives just like you did yours, and dare I say, they would be upmost proud to see how far you have come and how far you have carried your people.” Kili’s eyes met yours finally moving away from the wall. He felt heavy, in his chest, and his vision started to blur. He grieved his loss, the tears streaming down his face. He missed his brother so much, missed the guidance that Thorin gave. He longed so much to turn back time, to stick by his brothers side, to do so much differently.

You couldn’t stop yourself from getting up from your chair, crossing the couple of feet between the two of you, and kneeling down in front of your king. With a few more thoughts running through your head, if it was proper or the right thing to do, you pushed all things to the side you decided to stand and embrace him. Your arms easily wrapping around him in a comforting hug, to which he immediately leaned in, wanting the comfort you offered. This only made you want to do more, to ease his pain somehow, as your hands went up from his back to his neck, going into his hair. Combing through it with your fingers, one hand going back down to rub his back.

You both stayed like that for awhile. Kili’s tears had stopped after some time but still no one moved. In fact Kili moved closer, his face burying into your chest not wanting to leave. This was unprofessional but at the same time, you didn’t mind one bit. If this helped Kili in any way, especially with overcoming his strifes, then you would give him all the comfort and hugs he needed. Because even though he was going through such grief, he was a true King, and the best dwarf for the job in your opinion.

He deserved all the happiness in the world.

[danddymaro]

Take My Hand |Loki x (Asgardian) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Quick and easy because as much as I would love to make a whole series, I don't have the capability to do so regularly and not disappoint.

With that being said this might just be left open as a single shot so I don't have to pick lol.

Word count: 5097

A/N: Have I mentioned I love drama?

-  because I love drama. 

Loki is a serious drift between romantic and platonic, and I just... I just love it, because you're like, hmmm. 

Is there something there?

Am I overthinking it?

Who do I pick?

Long-term friendship W/ Loki

Reader is Asgardian (as mentioned)

Bucky is in a half and half state. He’s somewhat good, but dealing with his stuff.

A lot more Loki W/reader. 

 Take My hand

She was a perfect woman, and he wholeheartedly believed it. 

In his eyes she was the embodiment of everything he could ever ask for, but, even then, that didn't mean he couldn't be a stupid man.

‘It’s really for the best,’ He told himself, all in order to convince himself that what he was about to do was for the best. 

‘ - Because right now...it’s not the best time for any of this,’ He thought to himself, biting his lower lip as he felt her reaching for him for warmth.

‘-It’d been in the heat of the moment,’ He inwardly spoke, wanting to take away any special meaning that the moment could hold.

‘yeah,’ he went on, wishing he could go back in time before they let themselves get carried away.

‘It’s just that...’ he went on, in a desperate attempt to convince himself that it was just like with any other time, and any other woman.

Though, in truth, as much as he tried to fight it, it was anything but insignificant. Far, deep within his being he did not want to forget the lovely moment now that it had occurred.

It was then that (f/n) pressed her cheek to his chest, her ear landing just a few inches off from his heart.

Her arm was then draped over his stomach, allowing her hand to land at his side, the woman seeming fully contempt with life as they cuddled.

‘It didn’t mean anything,’ He added with a long exhale, trying to convince himself as much as he could, hoping that if he repeated it enough, it would somehow become easier.

‘(f/n),’ He started, ‘Is this how you are with everyone else?’ He then wondered, asking himself if the cuddly nature was meant just for him, or for just anyone that lay next to her.

 ‘(f/n),’ He then added, his heart weighing down, ‘If I tell you a lie....would you just believe it? Will you just believe it...not having expected anything else from me but a single moment?’ He added, the same muscle tightening as the woman seemed to be at compete ease. 

The sentiment was infectious and as he felt her melt, it was hard for him not to do the same. Even if his mind was far too plagued by a tornado of torment, his body got the message.

Naturally, the tension in his body melted, and it only made things more difficult, because it just meant that his heart was responding to her embrace, knowing that this time, it was different.

‘I know I’ve got a nasty reputation right now,’ He started, ‘ but it’s because, really, I don’t care about seeing them the day after.’ He silently admitted to the (h/c) haired woman.

He’d somewhat gone back to his old ways, though, not quite entirely because it was hard to fall back into being the same charmer he used to be when he’d gone through such a long-termed torment.

 But, at the very least, he was graced with good looks, and it did plenty for him when he lacked the proper social skills to woo a woman.

He’d shamelessly had little hook ups here and there, and that was just what they were, and nothing more.

‘They know what to expect, and for me,  it’s a routine.’ he thought idly, finding the arrangements he had  better than spending the time alone in silence with his own thoughts.

‘I care about you a lot.’ He thought with certainty, pointing out what separated her form everyone else. ‘I think...that maybe... I might have actually fallen in love,’ He then corrected himself, finally admitting it. 

‘If I think about you so much,’ He started, knowing it wasn’t right how frequently she came to mind, well aware that what he felt wasn’t something that he could feel for just anyone.

‘if you’re the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the good things in life...’ he then trailed off, filling it the rest with a silence that reached his mind.

‘ (F/n), I choose you.’ He declared. “ I’d always choose you,’ He thought with determination. ‘I just hope you know...that right now, (f/n), I’m choosing you. 

Above me. 

Above everyone else. 

I’m choosing what’s best for you, and not what I want instead,’ he thought with lament.

‘ Right now, I’m no where near where I want to be.’ He went on with the same sorrow. 

‘ There’s a reason I never stay overnight. 

There’s a reason I don’t get too close to any one else...because it’s better for people to think I’m some asshole than some crazy psychopath.’ He told himself, not wanting to share his misery with the lovely woman.

‘You deserve more,’ He thought with certainty. ‘You’re meant for better things,’ He told himself, never forgetting her origin, knowing that she’d always be much more than he deserved.

She was a literal goddess, and he was just some broken down old fool.

“(f/n),” He started before closing his eyes while he let a deep breath leave his nostrils,

“(F/n),” He then said again, letting his mouth do the work, disconnecting himself from it all to make it more believable, because if she saw the misery that threatened to overtake him, she’d have doubt.

She stared at him with widened (e/c) colored eyes, the happy glow to them fading as he continued to speak, giving her an excuse to why he couldn’t stay, and much more, why he wasn’t one meant to settle down.

"- You understand....right?" He questioned her, and throughout his speech, it took all the power he could muster to not look back at her heartbroken expression, even though  it felt like his duty to ease it.

‘When you’re upset, I feel like I have to put you at ease,’ He thought with tenderness, knowing the pain was there, and that it existed on her beautiful face.

  He knew he'd caused it and instead, chose to cower, biting his tongue as he heard her take in a long, strong breath through her nostrils.

She’d long let go of him, and had chosen to distance herself the more he spoke,

"Of course," She responded, the hand that clutched the covers shaking before she released the fierce grip, finally collecting herself enough to hold back her melancholy.

She believed his deception because until then, she hadn't had a reason to distrust him.

Until then, he’d always been honest with her.

"I understand." She said with a soft, blue breath, her (e/c) colored eyes watching him as he slid from beneath the covers, soon throwing on his clothes in a way that was far too collected for a man that had regrets.

There was no stumble, nor fumble and she looked on with melting shoulders.

Quietly, (f/n) handed him his shirt, offering him a soft, yet broken smile, thinking she had mastered the false expression, though, failing the final test.

"You ok?" He asked her, his voice coming out soft and kind, because he never meant to hurt her.

'No...' She inwardly wept.

"Yeah...I get it," She said instead, her eyes fluttering close as he neared her,  laying a soft kiss on her hairline.

"- I'm heading out now," he informed her, his right hand gently patting down (h/c) colored hair, the affectionate act causing her to shrink as she nodded in acceptance.

'Please...don't,' she silently begged.

 'Not yet. If you're going to go anyways, just stay a little longer,' she added as she watched him go, wondering if she’d been the only one to hold back on calling him, or if he was used to being pleaded.

It didn’t take long for her to finally let loose of the harsh grip she had on herself, choking out soft sob after he left, properly reacting to his rejection once he was out of sight, and problobly off to his same routine. 

And that was the part that hurt most, that in the end, she was just like all of the others.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Please...” (f/n) breathed, her voice down and tired as she tried to keep the conversation with the man civil.

But, it was fruitless, because as much as she wanted to avoid the conversation, he was detrained to dig deep, going as far as to follow her through the entirety of the empty facility. He  remained hot on her trail with quick, long strides that only ceased when she decided to finally stop and turn towards him with the same defeated gaze she’d wear whenever she was shamed and beaten.

“You are a god!” Loki barked back at her, his emerald eyes shadowed over and dimmed as he roared out the words. 

He spat them at the woman to remind her what was her true title, because he detested how fiercely she tried to play home with a realm that she didn’t belong to.

“You shouldn't be played a fool by an insignificant, Midgardian, lowlife,-”  

“- Loki please,” She cut him off with a weak voice, desperately trying to both calm and silence him.

'Not now,' She secretly pleaded, not wanting to hear the harsh speak, especially with the news she’d just received.

She hardly found the strength to plead with him, and at that very moment, she was certain that it was the last bit of resistance she had left, the hollow feeling that she'd been consumed by only weakening her furthermore as the days progressed. 

Left as nothing more than a walking husk, she cowered, and it was something he could see.

 Her attempt was futile as well as her will to reason, and it only seemed to fuel his means to speak in such a heated tone, because the (f/n) he knew wasn’t so frail. 

 “You still defend him?!” He questioned her in complete astonishment, the tone borderline mocking.

In response she said nothing, and the woman only stared at her feet in disgrace, swallowing down a small wad of spit that would be her defense.

She couldn't find anything to say, or justify herself, and her silence was her only answer at the moment, the only one she could provide. 

 Because what was she to say? 

Yes, she was a fool.

Yes, she simply strung along.

 Yes to all the accusations, however, "Please…" she said softly, slowly lifting her gaze to meet his, finally finding it in herself to look directly at him.

 She couldn't bear to listen to more, because despite everything that happened, it hurt her to hear the demi-god speak of Bucky in such a way that demoted him into nothing but worthless rubble.

 No matter what had happened between them, nor how much bitterness was left in between to savor, she still loved him too much to sit through any ill talk of him. Aside from that, the way Loki threw her own foolishness In her face burned, scathing the warrior that lay dormant.

“No pleading me woman!  I have sat back and watched you gravel and lower your status to an expendable waste of time and space here on Midgard!” He said loudly.

Her self-esteem was already at an all-time low, and his words only stung more, causing her to visibly shrink, her shoulders sinking as she accepted his venom.

All sympathy was left aside as his rant ran, and she wasn't surprised because she knew how heated and stubborn he could be, and by then she was well aware that she might as well speak her feeble plea to a brick wall.

'I know,' She quietly mused.

 He watched her take in the insults with the same grimace and the sight didn’t soften his harsh glare in the least bit, nor deter his speech, and it was then that he made his final decision, 

“I am not pleading you, nor am I requesting this,” he stated lowly, and  the way he looked at her almost frightened her because she knew he had something severe to come. 

Bracing herself, she looked up at him, (e/c) colored eyes wide and teary, waiting for what was to come.

 “I demand you return to Asgard with me today.” he finished, each word spat out firmly. 

His chin was held high as his eyes dared her to defy him, and at that, her heart came to a sudden stop.

“Today?!” she breathed, “ Loki- No, No, No, I can't simply leave like that.” She said frantically, nearly on the verge of tears, the panic she felt rising, momentarily shielding her from feeling the full strength of her sorrow. 

“You can't?”  He said, raising a brow,“…or you won't?” he asked her, silence ensuing after his low murmur.

"What stops you?" He questioned her, wanting to hear her say it, itching for her to face the reality of her decisions.

She tried her best to put on a brave front, but failed miserably and soon enough, tears began to fall down her face. Quickly, she hung her head to hide her worthless state, however, hiding her tears did nothing to stifle her sniffles, letting him know she was breaking down. 

“ Loki..." She breathed.

‘I can’t go now,’ She thought to herself with weakness.

"- I'm pregnant…” she sniffed, her voice as soft as silk, completely delicate and woven with the finest fibers of desolation and helplessness. Through her (h/c) colored bangs, her ( e/c) eyes Scanned his face, only to find It unmoved, the expression giving her unease. 

“And your point is?” He said with a low growl, annoyed. 

The news didn't faze him, nor did it lessen his piercing glare, and it unnerved her, “Did you not hear me?” She questioned him, struck by disbelief. 

  Didn't he just hear her? 

Did he even understand what the implications of her being in such a state meant?

She couldn't just leave, it wasn't right to do so.

“I heard you,” he said placing both hands behind his back, breathing in a soft, mellow sigh that loosened his tense body, “In Fact,” he began,  “I knew before you mentioned it to me.” He said coolly. 

"Y-you knew," she said shocked, though not entirely convinced, "That's impossible..." she murmured with uncertainty written all over her person. 

she stared straight at him for a form of proof that indicated he could be lying, but she got nothing in return, only the same arrogant look he'd mastered. 

“-Three weeks." He said simply, " You are three weeks pregnant,” he said before giving her a satisfied look that was in response to her expression of shock.

"Don't be so surprised,  the question on your face is insulting.” He huffed, “ Need I remind you, that to fool a trickster is of unlikeliness my dear? " he said smugly. 

"Then if you knew, then why give me such an ultimatum!" She furiously bellowed.

Why put her through the pain? 

Why tear her child from a father? 

Why try and force her into leaving?

The questions burdened her as she faced him, but the growing fury she felt forced her to retain them, not knowing where to start. 

He huffed out a dry chuckle before closing the space in between them, slowly stepping closer.

 "As I said before. I am not asking you to come with me, I am telling you, and trust me when I say you will comply," he asserted.

By then his taller figure loomed over hers, making her feel even smaller than before, the sudden burst of passion she had dying out as he towered over her.

"Are you really going to force me? " She murmured dejectedly, knowing that any hope of defying him wouldn't happen if he was fully intent.  

" Only if I must, " He said calmly, seemingly cooled down.. 

She became crestfallen, the woman withdrawn and small by then, “Please don't make me...” she sniffed, looking up at him with hurt (e/c) colored eyes.

 "Think about this, the child will be born on a bed of silk and surrounded by the finest. In Asgard, they will have a lasting life, one of prosperity, of higher thinking and understanding. 

They won't be held back by petty wars and battles, the very ones you attempt to stop. 

What more could one want for their own?" He reasoned with an almost too kind smile, lulling her onto his side, hoping to easily strum her along. 

He then opened his mouth to speak again before she could deny him, using his silver tongue,

“Do you truly believe a child here would not suffer ?" He questioned her. 

" You, more than anyone know how much corruption and danger there is here, especially for a person such as yourself….one who has so many foes." He reminded her.

 " - With that said, would you would allow your child to live here, risking thier life? ” he asked her.

She was wedged between a spear and the wall, because as he stated out the facts, she was well aware of how much more favorable the other realm was, however, there existed a factor that bound her to the place she now called home, 

"My child needs a father. " She said softly, so much so he couldn't have heard her at any farther distance. 

Instantly, the emerald-eyed man turned from her, making an attempt to not capture her heartbroken gaze, and  yet again silence filled the room, the space disrupted by the long, hiss he let escape.

" Oh," he breathed, " And here they have one, yes? " He dared to ask.

The question nearly killed her, because the dagger that had already been wedged in her heart was moving, digging deeper, and rotating in a way it ensured there wouldn't be any healing.

‘ he wouldn't... I know he wouldn't reject a child of his own flesh and blood.’ she thought with a glimmer of hope, trusting the man she'd given herself to.

His heart was good, and she was convinced of it.

She desperately wanted to believe it, however, Loki was a man that knew how to crush one's dreams, the soft-tongued man always aware of what words to use, because he’d mastered the art of manipulation.

" - The man who rejected you, who used you, who humiliated you in the vilest way he could… He is worthy of being a father? " he questioned her, finding a weak point.

'He doesn't want to be with me,' She then thought to herself. ' he doesn't want that life....so of course, why would he be willing to stop? 

For me...For a child that comes from me...

One he never planned...

Why should I force him...right?’

“ Do you believe that if he cared for you, he would toss you away so easily, without even a glance at your way. 

- Watching you suffer, seeing you slowly crumble… and do nothing?

I could never sit by and watch you suffer.” He then told her. 

“How is it that he can?” He then asked her, watching her swallow hard.

“ Much more , Do you truly believe a man such as himself would be safe around a child? Again I ask -

Would you put your own child at risk? “

Her eyes went wide and she sucked in a strangled breath, taking in the words with a fastly thudding heart, 

“You’re wrong !” she said stubbornly, “He wouldn't harm his own child, to any child. To any one!” she rambled. “He wouldn't ! he isn't like that, not anymore Loki!” She said with panic.

'No...you can play with every insecurity I have,' She silently spoke, ' but that is not one,' she thought with confidence.

 “ of course HE isn't, but what about the Winter soldier? what about the ruthless assassin that lies dormant?

What of that feral beast he becomes ?

Is he not unstable still?”

She shook her head with a certain look to her eyes, pride swelling through at the gaze, “ You can't play on a fear I long let go of. I know he is strong enough. 

He is different." she said with borderline arrogance. 

He then sighed, the breath sounding exasperated.  

"Return to Asgard. whatever fool that crosses your path could take the role." He finished, beginning to walk away, not willing to negotiate any longer, growing weary of the conversation.

 "If a father is what you need then find a suitable one once we arrive," He advised her. “You’re still in your early stages,” he reminded her, letting her know how easy it’d be to just push the responsibility onto some other fool.

Her eyes became wide at his solution and her nostrils flared in anger, a sudden burst of fury striking her,

“I will do no such thing !” she growled, quickly pulling him back.

With her quick hand shot directly at him, she managed to grab his shoulder and spin him around roughly. And it was at that moment that he found himself facing a different woman, one he recognized. 

Fire blazed in her (e/c) colored orbs, and by then the tears no longer flowed, slightly pleasing him.

The display of a knowing smirk made its way onto his face as he watched her, preferring her in her current state.

" That is deceiving,  and a much more, a disgusting act. I could never do such a thing !" She said in between gritted teeth, "And for you to expect it from me, I'm appalled." She further seethed.

"You, are simply unbearable," He snickered.

"So are you, darling," she bit back.

‘Just when I think we’ve become strangers...we come to this point again.’ he thought to himself. ‘A change in scenery. A different year and stage in our lives, and yet, it’s all warmly familiar,’ He added, by then certain that he and the woman were destined to be at each other sides.

‘Alright,’ He decided, knowing what had to be done.

"Unbearable woman..." He breathed, " I have another proposition." he informed her.

She nearly tore out her hair at his words, frustrated, because, Could he not just understand?

she couldn't just leave,

"NOTHING YOU SAY COULD POSS-"

"Then I will be that fool…per se."

" …what? " She breathed stepping back from him, anger having disappeared. Instead, she stared at him in awe, as if he had grown a new head entirely.

“Idiot...” She murmured, “Just what are you saying!” She questioned him, still in shock, not knowing how to really react.

" You heard me, I will take responsibility of you both." He said with a low voice, his eyes cast down as he spoke, looking almost hesitant to word his proposal for a reason other than doubt of his own. 

Truly, if there was any reason he looked away, it was because there was a vulnerability to him that he didn’t want to show so openly. 

'Why are you doing this Loki ?’ She gloomily wondered.

“- Why?” She questioned him, “ Just why are you so pent on me leaving with you?” She asked him while taking a step closer to him. 

Her hand reached out to him, her palm gently taking hold of his cheek, easing him to properly gaze at her. 

 “Why?” she breathed, questioning him yet again.

“Could the god of lies and deceit finally tell me the truth?" She challenged him, the words making his lips twitch with the most delicate touch of amusement.

 "- Why not? " He said simply, still not looking towards her, his eyes stubbornly drawn away.

"B-Because !" She argued, not finding where to begin, 

‘ Because I don’t want to hurt you.

Because you deserve so much more. 

Because I love you too much to damn you in any way.’ 

Finally finding it in himself, he pulled up a soft smile, “I see no fault in my plan.” He assured her, the confident comment not easing her.

“It's marriage Loki! A family!” She cried in frustration. “It’s an eternity!” She went on, no longer convinced he knew the true implications of such ties.

“- I understand what it means fully well,” He started, “ And it seems that you do too, so could it be that you simply wish to not bind yourself to me in specific?” he said looking insulted, a hint of playfulness hidden in his words, the childish speak further wounding her, because the lightheartedness he showed only highlighted his true devotion.

His sweet banter only showed how sure he was. 

“No... it's just... what about you?” She whispered with a crooked smile, an imperfect expression that tried too hard to properly showcase all of her inner musings from sadness and loss, to confusion and joy, and even hints of frustration.

“-What of me?” he asked her back, his tone just as sweet as hers. 

“Don't play the role of a fool, because it doesn't fit you well,” she rebutted, the words making him crack a true smile. 

“Do you not see it as sacred as I do?” She said with glittering eyes.

‘To me...this means devoted love. 

This means there is no end. 

This is something my heart has always yearned for,’

“Yes.” He answered her without a shred of hesitance, no second thought hidden between the spaces of the words.

“Then why me…?” She questioned him, “ Why make the sacrifice for me?” choking on her own words when she asked the one question she had begged to be answered.

“ why take me from my home here?” She continued to ask him. “Why put me before your own desires?” (f/n) said while beginning to shake.

“This is my desire,” He said as his hand rose to cover hers, all while his head leaned to her palm even moreso, 

“ I wish you could truly grasp at how special you are. 

How rare it is to find a woman such as yourself, in just about any part of the universe, even while scouring entire realms," he proceeded, grasping her little limb before lacing his fingers with hers, and suspending them in the air between them.

“That child of yours, they will take on my name, and whatever glories are bestowed upon them will be preceded by both of our titles, hopefully with pride,” He said with a small chuckle.

She could detect no lies, and at that, her hand squeezed his, 

“ A child is an extension of you, and so, I could never deny them. They will be mine, just as they are yours.” he spoke before releasing a low, airy chuckle, 

“Perhaps then I can show Odin how a true parent is to treat their son,”

He finished with a snide remark. 

“Son..?” She questioned him, lightly tilting her head as she gazed at him, “A son?” she repeated while envisioning such a child. 

‘Would our son hold resemblance to their father...or would they somehow hold all of me instead?’ She idly thought to herself, envisioning the same beautiful blue eyes that now caused her sorrow being possessed by her child.

“ Yes dear,” Loki said with certainty, “ A son. A boy. wouldn't that be marvelous?” He questioned her, seeming enthralled by the very idea, so much that he slid his free hand down to her upper back, the other that linked with her own held dearly as he took a step to the side, performing a lax spin that was of a poorly preformed waltz, and it reminded her so much of the little dances they preformed as children.

“ Then what if it's a girl?” she interjected, “Would you still be as willing to accept them? ” She said while smugly awaiting his answer, wanting to see him weigh in every possibility.  

“What do you mean if it's a girl ?” He said while stopping their spinning, “ Then there will be a princess born, and she will be a proper lady,” He responded without question, mindlessly falling in sync with her little steps. 

“Oh, and mother will just adore her. We will teach her all sorts of magic and quick Wit.

  She will have both our bronze and brain,

  Your righteous convictions, your every strength...they will be celebrated.

And every weakness she develops will be assured by me,” He swore to her, seeing only a bright path in the wake.

“She will be a gem formed in the same mine as her perfect mother,” He said proudly, but not soon after did his frown overtake him, abruptly stopping their little waltz,

“Which in turn...will mean she will be sought after by just about every man in Asgard,” He mumbled lowly, breaking off from her with a bothered downturn,

“And of course, none will ever be worthy of her, “ he said with a present scowl.

Momentarily, she stared at him, her sight, and mind alike completely taken by the prince who she could only then, describe as precious.

“ Traces of doubt nested within me, until just now, “ She admitted, “You're serious aren't you..?” she asked him with a small chuckle, her (e/c) colored eyes gazing at him with an even brighter light.

“ And I keep asking myself...why?” she said softly, shaking her head all the while, and it was then that his entire face melted into a sweetened softness that was further accented by the gentle smile he presented.

“ You have been with me through and through, just like a shadow, but unlike one, you don’t stand behind me.

You don’t cower yourself, and, instead, show me devotion while everyone else looks away.

 You’ve defended me, despite the many times I've paid you back with everything but the truth. “ he said with shame.

“(f/n), with you, I’ve felt true love,” He admitted to her.

“What we have, to me, has always been treasured.

It has always been cherished. 

I was never doubtful of what it was,” He further confessed. “I do not want you to look at that man more than you have to.

I do not want you to live in the same place he calls home.

- I cannot stand your suffrage.

Do you understand me?

You've always been one to find reason behind my actions and against all logic and reasoning.

You’ve always tried to save me, so now, shouldn't I do the same with you?” He questioned her. 

“(F/n),” He airily murmured, “Would you take my hand, and disappear?” He then asked her, pulling back to just the touch of fingertips.

With an upturned palm, he offered her a sweet smile as he repeated the question a second time,

“(f/n)...Would you take my hand?