#it was... one of (if not) the unluckiest summons of all time.

[caluupin]

my silly contribution

[poisoned-sugar11]

Fuck it. Piece of original writing be upon ye. It's fictional to be clear. Also, please tell me if this needs any trigger warnings, as I am unsure.

Oftentimes, when one summons a god or other similar entity, they won't exactly be thrilled at being summoned. You will have gone through all the effort of making sure you're mentally prepared for this encounter, but the being before you will not have had this luxury.

Perhaps they will seem uncharacteristically annoyed for a divine entity as they were "just trying to train their apprentice, for Haven's sake," before you so rudely interrupted them. They'll hear out your request, of course, but they'll be grumbling the whole time.

Another time, you might see a mass of indecernable shapes. You'll see these for a second before they snap into the form of a human, or an animal, or whatever mortal-like form will stop you from being unsettled. If they forget to do this and you are blinded, please forgive them. This was an unexpected visit for them, you know.

Your god might already be in their mortal form, yet they appear to be attempting to discretely clean their hands. Upon closer inspection, they appear to be covered in mortal blood. They'll sheepishly explain that they were "erm, a bit busy..." and that they're "terribly sorry for the state of my appearance." It is best that you acknowledge that they are trying their best and not ask any follow-up questions.

In the event that one gets their summoning ritual incorrect, the being before you will likely be just as confused as you are. Often, they will be a young god, and maybe you should be excited about that. You were the first one to figure out the ritual for this child, after all.

If the child god was trained for this, which hopefully they will be, they'll be very excited to help you. Their voice may sound slightly distorted, but you will still hear how eager they are. They may not do things perfectly since this clearly isn't who you wanted, but I'm sure you'll appreciate their attempts.

If they were not trained for this, then they'll be the current apprentice of the gardeners if you're lucky. They'll introduce themself before promptly explaining that they really must get back to the others before they cause any trouble. They were glad to meet you, though.

The unluckiest of unluckiest scenarios is that your child deity has never encountered a mortal before. If this is the case, I'm very sorry for what will happen to your eyes. Please try your best to forgive them, though. They really didn't know any better. It's not like they wanted to blind anyone.

[alias-sam]

Pierced by a Golden Soul

Chapter 5. Know Your Enemy Part 2

Platonic Jojo's x Reader

Summary: Fate is a bizarre concept with countless more bizarre implications. In life sometimes such extraordinary events happen that the only reasoning left must be fate. The tragedies that constantly befall the Joestar bloodline for example may be the unluckiest series of cards drawn in human history, or perhaps the work of a greater power. There is no way to tell for sure. Had Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar moved slightly on a divergent path the world itself would be left very different. The fate or luck of the noble Joestar bloodline has led to destruction of evil likes of the Pillar Men and DIO. This story is of a similar caliber to that of the other Joestars (as I am sure you are familiar with them). This is a story of lost souls, compassion, hope, and above all fate.

Word Count: 3,125

(Crosspost from Wattpad, full fic is already posted there.)

"Son of a-"Know Your Enemy was knocked aside by some buff purple dude, causing the dictionary copies to disappear. You watched in disbelief as the stand growled and ran out of the room.

"What exactly is going on here kid?" The purple guy dissipated and right behind him stood Mr. Kujo.

"Um. Would you believe it if I told you I don't know either?" You answered, looking up at the man.

"Give me a break." The guy tipped his hat in front of his face. "You're a stand user, aren't you?"

"Yeah." You summoned your stand just to show him. He looked it over with a blank expression. This was odd. Two stand users in one day? You hoped these encounters wouldn't become a pattern.

"Do you know where the user is?" Jotaro asked abruptly. You paused, trying to wrap your head around the fast-moving situation.

"Its user was snooping around in the front office. He probably left after his stand started chasing me, but I'm not sure."

"Alright then." The man nodded, turning to leave.

"Hang on! Where are you going?"

"What does it look like? I'm going to track down the user." He looked back your way. "You coming?" He sighed. You stood in the darkened classroom, staring blankly at Mr. Kujo. Was he being serious?! Why was he so calm?!

"I-" You weighed your options. Either you helped this guy track down Blake and his stand, and possibly figure out more about your own stand; or you could just walk away and pretend you didn't see anything. Jotaro was just about to leave the room when you answered. "Wait up. I'll help." You relented.

"Just don't be a nuisance got it? And try to not get hurt."

"Yeah, got it." You nodded nervously.

You followed the man out into the hallway. It was like he had trained for the situation, and entered high alert mode.

"What's your name kid?" He asked while keeping his eyes on every possible place the stand could be hiding.

"Y/n." You said, trying to follow the man's gaze as it darted around.

"I'm Jotaro Kujo." He responded. "What about your stand?"

"What about my stand?"

"What's its ability?"

"I'm not sure?  Is it supposed to do something? I didn't even know what these were until yesterday. I haven't exactly had the time to experiment." You shrugged. Jotaro looked at you with a bit of annoyance.

"How much have you figured out so far?"

"The fact that they're called stands is the extent of my concrete knowledge sir." You told him nervously. This Jotaro guy was really intimidating. He sighed.

"Look, I don't have the time to give you every last detail so here are the basics:  Only stand users can see stands, only stands can touch or harm other stands, and damage done to a stand reflects onto the user, every stand has its own unique ability. Got it?"

"U-uh. Yeah, I guess so." You did your best to commit the rules to memory. Somehow you felt that knowing them would help you in the long run. As you blindly followed Jotaro, the uncanny feeling of being followed crept up your spine. Slowly, you turned around. Down the darkened hallway behind you was the stand, smiling and leaning against a wall of lockers. You cursed, Know Your Enemy was terrifyingly good at sneaking around.

"Have you ever heard of Sun Tzu?" Know Your Enemy smirked at you. Jotaro's attention was immediately brought to the stand as it slowly started walking towards you. "He was a Chinese military strategist during the 6th century. 'To know your enemy. You must become your enemy' it's a sentiment I can get behind!" The stand touched a nearby wall with its hand. A copy of the wall sprang up between where you and Jotaro stood. Affectively separating the two of you.

You frantically searched for the stand but there was no sign of it. The wall that had sprung up out of nowhere seemed to go on forever. You took out your own stand and had it punch the wall.

"Muda!"

"Ow!" Pain erupted in your hand. The same hand that your stand had used. It was a shock to experience the phantom pain for the first time. There was a small dent in the wall, but the copy held up. It was much sturdier than those pens you had stopped earlier. A nearby intercom buzzed.

"That's what you get for punching a solid wall!" Blake's voice taunted over the school intercom. "If you and Mr. Kujo just left the school on time like you were supposed to this wouldn't be happening." You tried to see if there were any doors nearby, but every single one as far as you could see had disappeared. "Now I'm going make this a very bad day for you both." Blake's laughter faded out as the intercom shut off. Suddenly the walls around began to move. There weren't many paths for to take, it was dark in the building, so navigating was quickly becoming more and more difficult. The halls around you didn't look familiar anymore, the walls had come to life, moving and configuring into something completely unrecognizable.

"Boo."

You turned around only for a fist to fly into your stomach. The force knocked you back and onto the floor. You clutched the area and groaned in pain as you slowly tried to stand.  When you looked up you were faced with the towering figure of Jotaro, and two more Jotaros walking up from behind him.

"Crap." You muttered as the Jotaros moved in to attack. The fighting experience you had in your life was negligible, so instincts were all you could rely on. As you summoned your stand you noticed something odd, navy-blue auras began to radiate off of each Jotaro.

The closest copy got to close for comfort so you kicked it in the shins. The copy reeled back, shifting in stiff, mannequin like positions before lifelessly falling to the ground. The one following received a punch from your stand. When the third copy tried to attack your stand his hand phased right through it, he stumbled past you and fell.

From what you could gather, the copies made by Know Your Enemy were tangible, material made by a stand. That's why the teacher could see the copy of Blake earlier, and why the Jotaro copies couldn't attack your stand directly. With all of your opponents on the floor you had the leverage to kick them. Using your stand, you got rid of the Jotaros, each were silent as their bodies shattered and disappeared. You stood alone in the empty hall, squinting into the darkness trying to decide on what to do next.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and yet another Jotaro appeared. You took up your best imitation of a fighting stance, like the ones you had seen in movies. The 'Jotaro' raised both hands as if in surrender.

"Whoa! Slow down! I'm real!" 'Jotaro' smiled at you nervously. You watched him skeptically as he came closer. He moved stiffly, bending only at the joints as he walked.

"If you really are Mr. Kujo..." You glared at the newcomer. "What's the name of my stand?" You suspected this was a copy, and the way he was acting only made it more obvious.

"O-obviously your stand is named uh...." 'Jotaro' gave your stand a once over, a few beads of sweat trickled down his face. "Golden Wind?"

"Muda!"

You sucker punched the copy hard enough for it to shatter on impact. None of these copies seemed very bright.

"Jokes on you Fuxtaro. I haven't named it yet." Your stand's head turned to you. The robotic facial expression was still the same but something about the way it turned around gave an air of offense. Could stands get offended? "Don't look at me like that." You sighed. "We're in the middle of something. I'll—name you later...?" Your stand nodded, seemingly understanding the answer, and dissipated.

Taking a deep breath, you looked around at the surrounding walls, they were still shifting. The only thing that had really stayed the same was the tiled floor at your feet and the ceiling. There had to be a way out of here, right? First you had to find Jotaro, the real one. He seemed to know what he was doing.

There were no classroom doors nearby, but you noticed the security cameras. There was one right next to you, and another a few feet down the hall, a few feet after that was another. Did your school always have so many cameras? There was a red light blinking on the side of each one, indicating they were recording.

Slowly you made your way down a hallway to your left. You caught a glimpse of Blake's stand, as it ran past you, tapping you on the shoulder before running away. A wall appeared before you could chase Know Your Enemy.

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

Meanwhile, Jotaro was also navigating the hallways of your school. He had attempted punching through the wall that shot up between you and him. Whatever stand user was doing this obviously wanted to mess with him. If he broke the walls with his stand it may invite the user to create more obstacles.

The stand causing this was obviously very powerful. Jotaro was caught off guard by this situation. Years had passed since he last battled a stand, years since he had summoned his own stand. Jotaro looked over at Star Platinum, the stand looked slightly different. Maybe it was his memory betraying him, but Star Platinum looked like it had changed colors. Jotaro brushed the strange thought aside and had Star keep a lookout for the enemy.

Jotaro's mind wondered to you for a moment. He had the odd feeling he knew you, but at the same time didn't.

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

"What a drag. Here I thought this would be hard." Blake Greenmin giggled as he watched the wall of security footage in front of him. Blake smiled wickedly, turning on the school intercom. "Run and hide all you like; I can see everything in the school. You won't leave here alive!" Blake laughed maniacally as he turned the intercom off. "God you bastards are lucky copying people is hard. I can only give them simple commands..."

Blake glanced over the security footage. You and Jotaro were walking in completely different directions. Blake summoned Know Your Enemy and had it make a copy of you.

"Bring him here." He ordered.

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

You made yet another futile attempt to navigate the hallways. This wasn't getting you anywhere. What else could you do? The red lights of the security cameras caught your eye again. Slowly, you approached the wall, summoning your stand. You had it reach up and smash the lens before quickly backing away. Quickly you looked up and down each hallway, waiting for something to attack. Nothing happened though.

Confused and tired you leaned against a nearby wall and slid down into a sitting position. Your stand just looked down at you as it remained standing.

"You wouldn't happen to have any ideas, would you?" You still weren't sure if this thing could think for itself or not. Much to your surprise your stand pointed at a nearby wall. You blinked a few times, trying to tell what exactly you were seeing. A few feet away you saw two strange lights, one was a gold-ish yellow, the other a familiar navy blue.

You squinted; the lights were moving away. You swung your hand in front of your face, and you were able to see the lights through your hand.

"What the hell?" you mumbled curiously. You got up and tried to move closer to the lights. The closer you got, the more the lights formed outlines. "Are you the one causing this?" You asked, looking at your stand. It shrugged.

Before you knew it, you were running, trying to keep up with the outlines, only to be abruptly blocked by a wall. No way was that of all things going to stop you. Immediately you had a theory. Your stand reached up to break the nearby security camera lens, before you could blink the wall standing in your way disappeared. It was one of the fake ones.

It was a long process of breaking random cameras before you finally got close to the source of the lights. You had rounded a corner but quickly ducked back behind it in shock. It wasn't every day you saw the back of your own head.

The copy wasn't attacking Jotaro. In fact it looked like it was leading him somewhere.

You stealthily followed the copy and Jotaro. If your hunch was right, it would lead you to Blake.

.......

Jotaro wasn't sure what to think when you waltzed up to him. Hadn't you been separated by the enemy? There was something off about you  now compared to earlier. Jotaro didn't have the time to question it, but there was something about the stiff way you walked that was off putting.

Your copy urged Jotaro to follow them to the front office.

"And here we are." Your copy said as it gestured to the office. "Blake should be in there."

"You're sure?" Jotaro asked skeptically.

"Yes."

You watched the exchange from a distance, not sure what you were supposed to do. Blake didn't like you in the slightest, and now knowing he had such a powerful ability, you could only imagine what he was ready to do.

Jotaro was led by your copy into the security room at the back of the office area. There was a large desk surrounded by a wall of screens, all showing black and white security footage.

"Okay we're here, now where is the user?" Jotaro watched your copy carefully.

"Oh my! It seems he left." Your double lamely lied. Jotaro glanced around the room, already weary from the clone's odd behavior. You followed Jotaro's gaze as it focused on the tiles in the ceiling. Strange, the ceiling tiles next to the wall were uneven, cut in half when they reached the wall. Almost like the wall was-

"Yare Yare. What a simple trick." Before you could even finish your thought Jotaro's stand appeared and destroyed the fake wall. The fake wall shattered and disappeared, revealing a flabbergasted Blake sitting at the surveillance desk. His expression quickly turned to one of malice.

"You saw through that?!" He yelled in disbelief.

Jotaro didn't say anything, he only glared at Blake while moving closer. The air in the room grew tense. Either stand could appear at any time, so who was going to make the first move?

"What are you going to do? Beat me up?" Blake backed away from Jotaro.

"That entirely depends on if you cooperate. Tell me how you got your stand." Jotaro said coolly.

Blake grit his teeth, that coupled with the way his body was shaking made it hard to tell if he was anxious or angry.

"Screw you!" Blake yelled having Know Your Enemy launch at Jotaro. In the blink of an eye Blake was on the floor, the beginnings of an impressive bruise already forming on his face.

Your copy was slowly creeping up behind Jotaro. Quickly swallowing your fear, you jumped in before it could do anything. When Jotaro looked your way you sheepishly waved and backed up a few paces, not wanting to become a victim to his wrath. The moment Jotaro was distracted a sly smile crept across Blake's face. In one fluid motion he picked up a nearby piece of paper and had Know Your Enemy make copies of it.

Before you could process what was happening a whirlwind of papers filled the front office, completely obstructing your view. It was like being hit by a wave, you flailed around a bit trying to  reorient yourself, but just as quickly as the paper appeared it vanished along with Blake.

You blinked a few times in disbelief, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened.

"He- got away?!" You exclaimed looking around the now vacant room. Jotaro was faced away from you. He was looking at the only door to the office. You could tell he was at least a little pissed off. At this point you gathered that it was maybe part of his personality. "Shouldn't we go after him or something?"

"No. Don't worry about it. With luck he learned a lesson and won't mess with you anymore. If he does want trouble though he'll show himself eventually."

"I don't understand how you're so calm in this situation." You sighed deeply, taking a seat on a nearby desk.

"You handled this well enough for someone with no experience."

"Thanks..." you and Jotaro sat on silence for a moment. Your gaze slowly crept over to the wall clock. "CRAP!" You bolted up and moved toward the door. "I need to get home!"

Jotaro mumbled something to himself as he followed you out of the office. Thankfully the walls in the school shifted back to normal and you found your backpack very easily.

"Kid wait a minute." Jotaro said, causing you to halt putting on your backpack. Jotaro pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it over to you. "If anything like this happens again I want you to contact me."

"SPW?" You asked, reading the seemingly random letters off the card. Under the letters there was a phone number.

"Just tell whoever answers that you need to speak with me and we'll be in touch."

"Alright then..." you placed the card in your wallet, bade Jotaro an awkward goodbye and walked home as fast as humanly possible.

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

Blake stumbled past pedestrians and businesses with labored breathing. After finding himself a fair distance from the school he decided to stop and catch his breath.

"Dammit!" He seethed, leaning against the wall of an alley way and sitting down.

"It appears you've had a very rough day." A dark figure emerged from the opposite end of the alley. He was tall, and dressed...oddly. Blake tried to back away from the man, but he was pretty much cornered.

"H-hang on- I recognize you!"   Blake was tempted to scream but the man motioned to stay quiet.

"You've started realizing your full potential." The guy gave a sinister smirk in Blake's direction.

"How did you know that?" Blake pressed himself against the alley wall.

"You'll know in due time my friend." The guy stepped back, trying to show he meant no ill will. "I'm here to propose to you a partnership." Blake looked the guy up and down critically.

"You're kidding." Blake laughed humorlessly "No offense dude but I need some explanation."

"First I need you to tell me who got in your way today. Do you know their stand abilities? Their names?" The guy asked, growing impatient.

"How would I know their abilities? Kujo's stand is really strong that's for damn sure." Blake cringed, gently placing a hand on his bruised face.

"And the other one?" The guy pushed curiously.

"I didn't see them use their ability...they don't seem to really know what it is yet."

"What's their name?" Blake gave a malicious grin.

"Y/n Jones."

[xinxiaogato]

— live to tell the tail

summary. you unfortunately lived in a universe where general gorou had found out ms. hina was… himself. and just your luck: gorou’s first impression of you was a crazed devotee of the ms. hina fan club, but you had only been in the wrong place at the wrong time. will you live to tell the tail?

love interests. gn!reader x a watatsumi general, an inazuman vagrant, the balladeer, and the kreideprinz.

warnings. infinite pet puns, referenced character death, weapons, swearing, blood, alcohol, harassment, and mentions of war.

word count. 733

chapter six ⌇ the corg-key to his heart

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you couldn't get a wink of sleep in.

the fear of unexpectedly appearing before gorou for the third time coupled with the anticipation of putting on an act to get more cash into hotaru's pockets was nerve-wracking. how were you going to pull it off?

after a few more minutes of tossing and turning, you finally had enough of the stuffiness in your tent.

you swung your legs over the side of your cot and trudged outside. the cold air sent a wake of goosebumps across your bare arms.

"i wonder if it's this cold back in mondstadt, too," you murmured, your breath retreating from your lips as wispy strands of hot air.

you and your father hadn’t seen your hometown ever since the commencement of the vision hunt because—just your luck—it was right after you left mondstadt for a new job in inazuma that its electro archon decided to disconnect her nation from the rest of the world.

the watatsumi army and the traveler from another world managed to triumph over all odds, drawing the vision hunt to a close, but with the paramount workload you've received, there was no window of opportunity for you to travel back to the land of liberty that you were born and raised in.

as you meandered down the dirt path that cut through the middle of the village, you impinged on an individual (with an all-too-familiar pair of ears and tail) gazing up at the night sky, his eyes reflecting the unbounded canvas of stars.

are you kidding me!? you mentally screeched, twisting on your heel at once to head back to your tent. i really am the unluckiest person in teyvat! well, with the exception of your childhood friend, bennett, who couldn't take a brisk stroll outside without it raining cats and dogs.

"who goes there?" gorou yapped, instantly summoning his bow and nocking an arrow to aim in the direction of the footsteps that his sensitive ears picked up on.

gorou didn't see you yet since you were just around the corner of a wooden house, but you knew with one hundred percent certainty that he would be on the hunt if you tried to make a beeline for your tent.

borou village wasn't short on its senior residents, so you rallied the willpower to put on some theatrics.

"i didn't mean to trouble you, young man," you answered in a wavering tone. "i'm just an old person tending to their crops..."

a second of silence stalled the breath trapped in your lungs.

please buy it! please buy it! please buy it!

"oh, i see," gorou finally responded, lowering his weapon. "i apologize for the sudden hostility."

"no, no, it's quite all right..."

what was gorou doing out here anyway? shouldn't he be resting before the training session tomorrow?

"what's on your mind, whippersnapper?" you couldn't help but query. "i could put my... eighty years of living to good use."

gorou was hesitant to confide in this unknown elder, but there was no harm in doing so.

"there was just... this person... that i didn't know as much as i thought i did," gorou imparted, bashful now that the words had left his mouth.

he deliberated about why he was still so flustered about his recent confrontations with you. he was supposed to be the leader of an army, the divine priestess's right-hand man, and an adept strategist. the contractions in his chest should have been fleeting at most.

with no doubt in your mind that he was referring to you, you replied, "young man, i promise that if you give talking to them a chance, you'll learn way more about them than taking their character as a given."

"...you're right," gorou fortunately concurred with a hand to his chin. "i shouldn't be presumptuous. thank you, kind stranger. may i ask for your na—?"

adrenaline flooded your system as your brain started wiring you to a route back to your tent. "oh, would you look at the time? looks like i've gotta clean my toilet bowl!"

"excuse me? wait!"

but when he sailed around the corner of the ligneous building, there was no trace of you left behind.

...

well, no matter what the circumstances are, i'm going to give it my all to speak with reader properly the next time i see them! gorou affirmed. maybe it was all just a misunderstanding.

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[the-clockwork-three]

tell me about these new blorbos you have reblogged very much just now. i am somewhat interested

AAAAAA thank you anon :D this is now The TGCF Zone and none of you can escape

Quick summary: these are Xie Lian and Hua Cheng from Heaven Official's Blessing, a 800k-word-long webnovel by MXTX

OKAY SO. Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù (MXTX) is a Chinese author of webnovels. Specifically danmei or Chinese BL. She has written 3 novels, all of which have now been officially published in English, with the final volume of tgcf having come out last week. Her novels are, in order of writing: Scum Villains Self Saving System (SVSSS), Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS), and Heaven Official's Blessing (TGCF), with the latter two's acronyms coming from their original chinese titles. I really like all three of these novels, although I've been on a svsss kick recently. Also I've been a tgcf fan for about a year now, just not actively blorbo-ing.

All three novels are cultivation novels. Cultivation is this idea in Asian literature and culture that comes from Taoism and myth. Basically if you meditate and train really hard in martial arts, you will gain magic powers, and eventually you could become immortal or a god. Svsss and mdzs focus on very powerful humans, but tgcf is about gods and ghosts.

Xie Lian (the guy in white in the fanart) is the crown prince of a country called Xianle. He is a good kid, and very dedicated to trying to "save the common people". A memorable thing he did was during a parade to celebrate the gods he deviated from his fight choreography (where he was playing the emperor of the gods) to save a child falling from a building. Symbolism!!! The child "falls" for him, wink wink, and Xie Lian is not afraid to to do the right thing even if that means going against what he's supposed to do etc etc.

When he was 17 years old he became a god of martial arts. But after a tragedy befalls Xianle, he gets kicked out of heaven for handling it... Poorly. He ascends for a second time as a god of misfortune but is kicked out again within half an hour.

800 years pass and he ascends for third time, this time as a god of scraps. Unluckiest man in the world, straight-up not having fun 95% of the time, but sweet and humble because the world has repeatedly crushed him to dust but it physically Cannot Kill Him so he has to cope somehow. This is where the novel starts.

Important motif: sword in one hand, flower in the other/the flower crowned martial god. While Xie Lian is very pretty and soft, he can fuck you up. Dude is obsessed with swords.

Hua Cheng is a king of the ghosts. He's mysterious. He once beat 33 gods in duels of their choice. He wears all red. He can make it rain blood. He can summon silver "wrath" butterflies. Everyone in heaven is a little scared of him. Luckiest guy in the world (except for the whole being dead thing).

But with Xie Lian he is gentle and kind. Hes always down to hang out. He doesn't mind that Xie Lian is the bottom of the pecking order of gods, he always treats him with respect. He dresSES AS A GROOM WHEN HE GOES TO PICK UP XIE LIAN WHO IS, FOR PLOT REASONS, DRESSED AS A BRIDE.

Pretty much everything about his backstory is a spoiler, ranging from "you're supposed to figure this out about 20% of the way through the book" to "literally the big twist at the end"

Whatever could be the connection between them ;) and surely one could not describe their relationship as.... Homosexual? Look they're kissing for totally normal heterosexual reasons. Xie Lian just needed the spiritual energy.

Anyways Xie Lian may be a god of literal rubbish, but Hua Cheng is forever his most devoted follower.

I love them, even if it's Been A While since I sat down and read the source material.

Tgcf also features such memorable side characters as: two guys I fucking hate, not because they're bad people but because they're annoying and boring. Rusalka and the Shepherd Girl if they were both genderfluid and gods. Cannibal ghost you can't kill because he's your cousin. The child of the body your cannibal-ghost-cousin is possessing. Even As A God This Poor Librarian Experiences Misogyny. Quan Yizhen.

The second season of the animated show is airing right, so... I guess now is as good a time to get into tgcf as ever :)

[lethargic-lass]

Forgot to post this earlier but IS FINALLY DID IT! They gave us an Echoes banner!

So, I made some memes to celebrate the recent news.

Starting with entry #1

After 4 long years of waiting, Luthier fans are rejoicing at the fact that their fav mage finally got into FEH.

However...

IS and their waifu favoritism are strong, leaving the men behind for who knows how long... Poor Luthier, you had to be the demote. But hey, it’s better than not being in at all. At least, they did him justice by giving him decent fodder.

Tho how are they gonna distribute the men across different banners? Valentian Est will get in for sure but I doubt IS would put like 3 men in one banner.

Speaking of waifus, anyone has the same reaction? Tho I knew it was Palla, some people online thought it was Erinys. Now that I think about it, they look pretty similar, hence this meme. (”They’re the same picture” meme works here too lol)

So the banner is not pure Valentian units huh, well let’s see what else IS got in store for us this month...

Ah yes, the foreigners. We have not 1 but 2 Archanean units who got an alt in this banner. Yo so if Zeke’s here then so’s Tatiana. 

Ok this meme is pretty random as I ngl have never tried Blue Bunny ice cream yet but I’ve seen some trucks pass by once in a blue moon. Huh her new tome reminds me of Sylvain’s Melon Float from last year’s summer banner lol. It’d be weird if IS gave her a food related tome in a regular banner so they gave her the usual animal tome.

Because of this, I now have a headcanon that Tatiana loves ice cream :D

Moving on...

Alright gamers, we have ONE mission and that is to reunite a lovely couple. But knowing how gacha works, will you be lucky or will you get pity broken? Even worse, Idk about you but for me, blue is the unluckiest among all the colors in FEH.

*cue the “Ah shit here we go again meme”* Now I’m reminded of when I tried to get Summer Ingrid for my collection only to be pity broken by, none other than Palla (duo in my case). Fr, every blue 5 star I got that time was her and now she’s at +4. Heck, I don’t really use her lol. So yeah, good luck on summoning for blue stones if you intend to do this!

Sure whales are saying it’s easy but F2P players like me gotta budget carefully. Regardless, I wish y’all luck on your summons!

Ayt, that’s the end of the meme train. Hoo what a wild ride this was. I guess the sudden rush of creativity came over me.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed these memes. I wish y’all good luck on your summons, this Midpoint banner! 

[queenofmoons67]

Queens: A Gwen/Morgana Fic

Summary: Everyone knows that at a random time in your life, you switch places with a future version of yourself. Gwen just didn't expect to find herself married to Arthur and Queen of Camelot, let alone for Morgana to be a threat to them all. When she switches back to her own present, there's only one thing she can do: Try and do what no one else has ever done before, and change the future.

Word Count: 5001

Since long before Gwen was born, the one magic that everyone had was irreversible. Not even King Uther could erase it, no matter how hard he tried—and he tried.

The magic was that for a few minutes, when a person was most at peace with themselves, they would switch places with their future self. King Uther had switched in the moment Prince Arthur was born, and come back screaming his wife’s name before Gaius had even said a word. Rumors and whispers started at court when he outlawed even time magic, saying that Camelot must suffer some horrible fate, if he tried to change the future even now.

And yet, some people never switched, never truly at peace, whether by circumstance or temperament.

In the days since magic was outlawed, some people hoped they’d never switch, for those who were were summoned before the court, to speak of what they’d learned. If the king found himself unsatisfied with the answer, you could very well find yourself on your way to an execution chamber.

But most looked forward to the day. It symbolized a step into adulthood, and for the luckiest, it granted hope for the future: Love, children, a good harvest.

For the unluckiest, though, it gave unwarranted hope to change the future: To not become a spinster, to prevent a death, to warn of famine. No one ever managed it; the purpose of the magic was to give only a glimpse. But that hope remained—

Not that Gwen ever thought she’d be one of those grasping for it.

Read more on AO3

[illegalastrology111]

CHINESE NEW YEAR :  YEAR OF THE OX 2021:  FEBRUARY 12TH

Rat Ox Tiger Rabbit Dragon Snake Horse Goat Monkey Rooster Dog Pig 1948 1949 1950 1951 1952 1953 1954 1955 1956 1957 1958 1959 1960 1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018 2019 2020 2021 2022 2023 2024 2025 2026 2027 2028 2029 2030 2031

The Chinese Zodiac and 2021 — Is 2021 a Lucky Year?

2021 is a year of the Chinese zodiac sign "Ox". The Ox has long been a symbol of power in Chinese culture. An Ox year is usually considered to be a more hopeful and fruitful year, so 2021 is expected to bring better luck.

The Luckiest/Unluckiest Zodiac Sign

There is a popular Chinese folk saying that 9/10 Goats are inadequate (十羊九不全 '10 Goats 9 incomplete'), which implies most people born in a year of the Goat are destined for bad luck.

Most Chinese people also believe that people born in a Goat year will grow up to be followers rather than leaders. Although this is an outdated superstition, it has a real effect on Chinese society.

Conversely, the Dragon is the most coveted zodiac sign, with Chinese births peaking in Dragon years. In Chinese culture, the top 5 luckiest/most popular zodiac signs are Dragon, Snake, Pig, Rat, and Tiger conventionally.

Rationally, it's hard to identify the luckiest or unluckiest zodiac signs, as each sign has its own advantages and disadvantages. Socially, different combinations of zodiac signs cause different relational dynamics, which may affect someone's life more, as we don't live in isolation.

12 Zodiac Animal Personalities & 2021 Horoscopes

Chinese zodiac animals have astrological and cultural meanings. Chinese people associate each animal sign with certain characteristics. It's believed that people born in a given year have the personality of that year's animal. Click the animal signs below to learn more about each zodiac animal.

Rat

OX

Tiger

Rabbit

Dragon

Snake

Horse

Goat

Monkey

Rooster

Dog

Pig

People born in a certain animal year are believed to have attributes of that animal, which could either help or hinder a relationship. Each Chinese zodiac animal has personality traits assigned to it by the ancient Chinese. Chinese people believe these traits will be embodied in people, according to their zodiac sign.

An important use of the Chinese zodiac is to determine if two people are compatible, in a romantic relationship or any kind of relationship.

In ancient times people were faithful to Chinese zodiac compatibility and often referred to it before a romantic relationship began. Even nowadays some people still refer to it.

Enter Your Name, Date of Birth and Test Now Boy's Name: Date of Birth: Girl's Name: Date of Birth:

Best Matches for 12 Zodiac Signs

Rat: Ox, Dragon, Rabbit

Ox: Rat, Monkey, or Rooster

Tiger: Dragon, Horse, or Pig

Rabbit: Rat, Goat, Monkey, Dog, Pig

Dragon: Rat, Tiger or Snake

Snake: Dragon, Rooster

Horse: Goat, Tiger

Goat: Rabbit, Horse, Pig

Monkey: Ox, Rabbit

Rooster: Ox, Snake

Dog: Rabbit

Pig: Goat, Tiger, Rabbit

These love compatibilities are derived from 6 trines (similarities), 4 six-harmony pairs (complementary opposites), and 6 other less-easily-discerned personality trait compatibilities.

Tips for Wearing Zodiac Lucky Jewelry — Two Chinese Zodiac Compatibility Groups

Trine trios are compatible for like-mindedness in values, habits, interests, and so on, and harmony in relationships.

Six-harmony pairs are complementary (diametrically opposite) to each other and most likely to provide very good help to the other one.

Trine Compatible Trios Six-Harmony Compatible Pairs Monkey & Rat & Dragon Rat & Ox Snake & Rooster & Ox Tiger & Pig Tiger & Horse & Dog Rabbit & Dog Pig & Rabbit & Goat Dragon & Rooster / Snake & Monkey / Horse & Goat How to Choose Your Zodiac Lucky Jewelry:

There's a custom of wearing zodiac sign jewelry to avoid bad luck in China — usually a bracelet or necklace. The rule is choosing the six-harmony compatible signs first, then trine signs. For example, if you are an Ox, you could wear Rat jewelry.

Special Zodiac Jewelry Tips for 2021:

In 2021, there are five zodiac signs in conflict with Tai Sui (Jupiter, the age star, or the God of Age in Chinese culture, which will bring misfortune): Ox, Goat, Dog, Horse, and Dragon.

If your compatible signs involve any of these five signs, you should skip them and choose other signs for your lucky accessories. For example, people born under the Rooster sign should usually wear Dragon jewelry for its six-harmony compatibility, but in 2021, they should avoid the Dragon and choose the Snake from the trine trio (not the Ox as it's also in conflict with Tai Sui).

Similarly, if a person is born under the Goat sign, in 2021 he/she should wear Pig or Rabbit jewelry instead of a Horse accessory. How to Be Lucky in Your Own Zodiac Year

A person's zodiac year, or benmingnian, is any year in the person's life with the same Chinese zodiac animal sign as his/her birth year. As there are 12 animal signs, a year of your birth sign occurs once per 12-year-cycle: when you are (about) 12, 24, 36, 48, 60, 72, and so on.

According to Chinese astrology, people in their zodiac year are believed to offend Tai Sui, the God of Age, and incur his curse. It is believed to bring nothing but bad luck. Therefore, Chinese astrology followers pay special attention to their conduct every twelfth year of their lives, i.e. in their birth sign years.

2021 is the benmingnian(本命年 ‘origin of life year') for those people born under the Ox sign. Read more on How to Make Good Luck in Your Zodiac Year Easily.

Chinese Zodiac Origins — What is the Chinese Zodiac Based On?

The Chinese zodiac is a repeating cycle of 12 animal signs that are divided on a year-by-year basis.

The 12 signs are popularly explained by a myth that when the Jade Emperor (the supreme immortal) was developing a calendar, all creatures on Earth were summoned to participate in a race. The first 12 to cross the line were awarded signs and an order in the Chinese zodiac. Find out more on Chinese Zodiac story.

Actually, the 12 animals were chosen very deliberately by the ancients, after many revisions. The zodiac animals are either closely related to ancient Chinese people's daily lives, or have lucky meanings.

Chinese Zodiac Elements The Chinese Zodiac and Chinese New Year

There are two dates a Chinese zodiac year could be said to start on: Chinese New Year or ‘Start of Spring'.

Chinese New Year (day 1 of the lunar year) falls somewhere in the period January 21 to February 20.

Start of Spring (day 1 of the solar year), the first day of the first solar term in the traditional Chinese solar calendar, falls in the period February 3–5.

Most Chinese people use lunar new year as the start of the zodiac year. But for professional fortune telling, Chinese astrologers use 'Start of Spring' or solar new year as the beginning of the zodiac year.

The Zodiac Five Elements

The Chinese astrology system identifies five elements: fire, earth, metal, water, and wood. Each element is linked to motivating forces in people's lives.

Fixed Elements for Each Chinese Zodiac Sign

In Chinese astrology, each of the 12 Chinese zodiac signs is associated with one of the five elements, which is known as the fixed element of the sign:

Fixed Element Chinese Zodiac Sign Wood Tiger, Rabbit Fire Snake, Horse Earth Ox, Dragon, Goat, Dog Metal Monkey, Rooster Water Pig, Rat

Each 12-year zodiac cycle also has an element, which repeats on a 60-year cycles.

Element 12-Year Cycle 12-Year Cycle Wood 1924–1935 1984–1995 Fire 1936–1947 1996–2007 Earth 1948–1959 2008–2019 Metal 1960–1971 2020–2031 Water 1972–1983 2032–2043

A person's characteristics are said to be determined both by the fixed element of their zodiac sign and the element of the 12-year cycle they were born in. E.g., a Metal Ox (born in 2021) has a personality with aspects associate with both Metal (12-year-cycle element) and Earth (zodiac sign fixed element).

Fire element people are inspired by excitement.

Earth people are motivated to secure foundations.

Metal people are driven to create order.

Water people are compelled to form emotional bonds.

Wood people have a desire to explore.

[jooniyah]

Silver Blades

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem Reader ; Yandere Royalty!au 

Genre: Angst, Mature

Warnings: Hard Yandere behavior, emotional abuse, dubcon bordering on non-con, violence, degradation and physical abuse, manipulation, profanity, smattering of smut, blood, swords and murder.

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is an incredibly mean yandere, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully. Author’s note:  I have coined a couple of words to better suit my fiction, please be assured that they are not typographical errors. I am sorry in advance for the ending, and for breaking your heart! Okay, read and get your hearts broken! 

Picture credit: YimeiZhu

“Don’t you dare sulk,” your aunt grumbled, adjusting your corset. 

“It is the King’s orders and the law of the land. Keep your face pleasant.”

You couldn’t see properly, all those tears blurring your vision. You searched your aunt’s face for any trace of compassion, but there was nothing kind in the eyes that stared back at you. 

“You know I have my own children to take care of,” she continued, pulling at the lace, crushing your chest tighter. 

You squeezed your eyes shut in pain as the laces bit into your skin. Why were you the Cimarin when there were plenty of other girls in the kingdom? How was it that life always seemed to hand you the worst of luck? 

“Wipe that look from your face,” your aunt chided, bustling around to fetch your Tochir, or gifts, meant to be taken with you to the Prince.

 The ladies from the village had all gathered in your aunt’s house, bringing sprigs of honeysuckle, carnation, and heather as part of your Tochir. As was customary, they draped your corseted body in yards and yards of silk, sprinkling each layer with a perfume that was made of distilled azaleas. 

The smell overpowered you, making you feel giddy and suffocated. Your hair was elaborately braided, complete with tiny flowers set in the twists of your braids.  

  You looked at yourself in the rusted mirror. You were the prettiest you had ever been. Why then was your heart threatening to burst anytime out of your corseted chest? How convenient for your aunt that the King had chosen you. An orphan. Raised unwillingly under the roof of your mother’s sister. 

Your aunt had a way of reminding you often that you were nothing more than a burden to her. How relieved she’d be right now, that her daughters had been spared. It was you that the King had asked for. You, the Cimarin of the Prince. You laughed bitterly at your reflection. 

“Born under the unluckiest of stars,” you spat at yourself miserably.   

The ladies had fashioned the flower sprigs into a small bouquet for you to carry. It was time to leave. Your aunt was telling you how to behave with the Prince, but your numb mind couldn’t process a word. She pressed a jade medallion, also a part of your Tochir, into your palm, the stone feeling as cold as your frightened heart. 

“…. fortunate that I wasn’t asked to provide any dowry,” your aunt was rambling on, her face lighting up, not believing her luck at getting rid of an unwanted encumbrance that had threatened to encroach her daughters’ dowry money. 

Your parents hadn’t foreseen dying at thirty-odd years of their lives and had left you penniless when you became an orphan at the tender age of seven. The Royal carriage arrived, drawn by two luxuriously black steeds. 

The footman opened the dainty doors, waiting for you to board. Clutching your Tochir, you looked back one last time, heart sinking when you realized that every other woman apart from your aunt had a sympathetic look on her face. With a strangled sob, you turned and climbed into the carriage.   

*****

The long ride to the Palace allowed you to bemoan your destiny, tears flowing ceaselessly with each sob that raked your body. The sweat in your palms seeped through your gloves and dampened the stems in the bouquet you held onto for dear life. The smell of heather and azaleas adulterated by the odor of sweat emanating from your gloves seemed to curl around you like wisps of smoke. 

Whatever did you do to deserve this? Would your parents have defied the King’s orders had they been alive? 

“Why didn’t you take me with you, mama?” were the only words echoing desperately in your head. 

You could see the towers of the castle looming in the distance. The Donjon grew bigger in your field of vision as the horses sped with thudding hooves towards the castle. A fresh wave of fear stirred in the pit of your stomach as you sensed the carriage slowing to a halt. 

You were frozen in your seat when the liveried footman opened the door and held an arm out to you. A small group of Royal maids had gathered around the carriage. A matronly woman reached in and pulled your arm harshly, with an air of annoyance, as if she were bored with welcoming distraught Cimarins all her life.

When you alighted awkwardly, with the woman’s hand still gripping you tightly, the rest of the maids sprinkled rose water on you, another rite. But the air, to you, was nothing but a smothering fire, finally consuming your wings, burning them to ashes forever.   

***** The great halls you were led along were adorned with tasteful decorations, every ornate item polished to perfection, every piece of delicate china gleaming vibrantly. There was not a speck of dust on the glass panes, not a spot on the crisp curtains. So different from the grime-covered attic you were used to sleeping in.

The orderliness scared you, the enormity of the fact that you were going to live in the Palace hitting you hard. Your throat went dry when you were finally led to a chamber, furnished minimally with only a cupboard and a divan.

“You won’t be using this room much,” said the maid who had led you to the room. “You will only use this room to retire in case of illness or menstruation.” 

The gravity of her words struck you like cold daggers. Suddenly the room felt like a safe haven you dared not to leave. You hadn’t opened your mouth ever since you arrived, gawking at the intimidating surroundings. The maid looked at you closely, and you thought you sensed a flicker of pity in her eyes. 

“The Prince will be ready for you in an hour.” She stopped and stared at you. “Stop looking so forlorn and wear a smile when you meet the Prince. You are here to be with the Prince, whether you like it or not.” 

And with that, she turned and left.   

***** You had nothing to do except wait to be summoned to the Prince’s chambers. Seated on the divan, you looked down at the silk robes you were wearing. All perfumed up and wrapped elaborately, only to be torn at the hands of the Royal stranger.

 The jade medallion was supposed to be the symbol of good luck you brought to the Prince. Where then was the symbol for the bad luck he brought to you? The cold green stone glinted at you as you kept turning it in your palms.

 Out of nowhere, a maid materialized and said, “The Prince will see you now.” 

You shot up to your feet, blood rushing to your head. Was it time already? Your legs felt like lead as you followed the maid along the long corridors. She stopped before a door and motioned for you to go in. 

“You will wait here.” 

Without any more instructions, she closed the door behind her. This was a large room, furnished with only a magnificent bed, strewn with rose petals. You had been there only a few minutes when a side door opened. 

In walked a young man, dressed in the richest of robes, his eyes never looking once in your direction. He stood and surveyed the bed, his jet-black hair spilling over his eyebrows. His mauve robes contrasted sharply with his fair skin, the light from the windows enhancing the color of his robes and casting a glow on his chiseled face. With a snap of his head, he turned and gazed directly into your eyes. 

You stared back spellbound; how could a mortal man be this handsome?   

He advanced towards you without a word, eyes locked onto yours. His face had a boyish charm that mesmerized you and rendered you speechless. He stopped directly in front of you, one arm catching hold of your robes.

 Losing no time, he pulled the fabric hard, causing you to turn on your heels over and over as he unwound the silk hastily. Irritation clouded his features as the silk kept spilling out without ceasing. 

“How many damned layers are there?” he muttered and dug his fingers into the fabric between your breasts and ripped it. 

He said nothing as he tore at the silk, finally reaching the corset. Like an angry child tearing at the wrappers of a gift, he butchered the lace, reducing it to shreds. Finally, with a dark joy, he yanked off the corset, drinking up the sight of your body, with his arms suspended in the air, holding the mangled corset. 

You instinctively raised your arms to cover your chest, when he gripped you hard.

 “Do not dare do anything you aren’t told to.” 

His coal-black eyes roamed maniacally all over your body, a frightening grin curling up his lips.

“It is my birthday, and you are the Cimarin my father chose to gift me. He did well.” 

His arms curled around your waist as he pulled you snug against his clothed chest. 

“Obey me and you will be rewarded,” he sniffed your hair, sighing at the feeling of having his own Cimarin at last.

He was not a boy anymore, he had turned eighteen, and here was a woman picked exclusively to please him. He closed his eyes as he felt the heat of your body against him. He had grown tired of his own hands, he now had another set of hands to caress him. He had never seen a naked woman so close before, he had grown hard as soon as he had set eyes on your rotund breasts.   

When he opened his eyes, you were still rigid in his arms. He didn’t enjoy the stricken look on your face. 

“Disrobe me,” he ordered, letting go of you.

 With shaking hands, you got to work on removing his clothing. He stood still, looking at you as you peeled the robes off his body, revealing broad shoulders and an incredibly taut chest.

 You had been indoors most of your life, never having seen a topless man. Your virginity had been the first to satisfy the criteria for a Royal Cimarin. Your hands stopped at his underclothes, unsure of what to do next.

 “I don’t recall telling you to stop,” ground out the Prince, impatience contorting his features. 

Closing your eyes, you swiftly undid the buttons and pulled the fabric down, your head remaining bent, not daring to look.

 “Do not keep me waiting,” he thundered, pushing your shoulders down to kneel before him. 

“Please me,” he ordered, closing his eyes, waiting to feel your lips on him. 

A whole minute later, he threw his eyes open, rage evident in his burning orbs, only to see you cowering, with no clue on how you were supposed to please him.    

Thoroughly peeved, he grabbed your head into position, with a curt “Open your mouth.”

 Catching a fistful of your hair, he pushed himself inside your mouth, hissing at the warmth. He threw his head back and groaned, all the while snapping his hips into your face. You tried your best to avoid gagging, holding back the tears threatening to spill out. He became more excited, pinching your nose closed, willing you to take more of him. He forced himself deeper, causing your nose to touch the tufts of hair at his base.

His excitement caused him to climax sooner than he had wished to, and he came in your mouth, causing you to cringe. You hoped he hadn’t noticed, and closed your eyes, waiting for him to remove himself. With a shuddering sigh, he released your mouth and cupped your face tightly, making you wince.

“Never do that again. I’ll let it pass since I’m feeling benevolent today,” he said, eyes boring into you.

 You gulped and nodded. There was something in his eyes that screamed danger and you’d rather not be on the receiving end of it. He was astonishingly strong for an eighteen-year-old. The veins in his arms were prominent, bulging with each movement. He could probably snap your neck in no time if he ever felt like it. 

“What are you looking at?” he asked, and when he received no answer, he clucked his tongue. 

“ Swallow it. Always swallow unless I tell you otherwise.”

 You swallowed immediately, and he smiled his arrogant grin again. God, he was enjoying this so much. He wanted to do everything he had ever imagined, try every possible fancy and have his way with you. This, an obedient woman just to satisfy his whims, felt too good to be true.   

You were naïve enough to think it was over for the day. Just as you thought he would leave you alone to mend your broken dignity, he bent and picked you up in one fluid motion. 

Throwing you on the bed, he leaped over you with the swift agility of a panther stalking its prey. His skin glowed in all its naked glory, muscles flexing as he hovered over you. There was a carnal hunger in his eyes, so palpable that the air felt charged with his want.

Without warning, he sunk his sharp teeth into your breast, making you arch in pain. He didn’t seem to care, as he tried to bite deeper and fit as much of the flesh in his mouth. He closed his eyes, one hand kneading the other breast as he inhaled the soft feminine scent emanating from the swell of your bosom. 

As someone whose calloused hands had held only the hard hilts of bloodied swords for so long, he found it hard to comprehend the pliancy of your supple mounds. Wanting to give the same attention to both breasts, he switched sides, gnawing on the other breast with equal vigor. He was growing hard once more, and when he felt ready again, you had two crescents of bite marks on both sides of your chest.    

Spreading your legs, he inspected your core, snapping his head to look accusingly at you, stating, “You are not wet for me.” 

Though he would never say it out loud, it was a humiliating slap to his ego that his own Cimarin was not wet for him. You didn’t feel privileged that the Prince of the land was providing you his ministrations? Fine. Your arousal didn’t matter to him anyway. You were there for his pleasure, and not the other way around. 

His chest twisted in anger, hating you for being apparently unperturbed by him. With a harsh shove, he entered you, hissing at the warmth of your tight walls. The shocked gasp and look of terror on your face appeased him and spurred him to pound into you harder. 

“I wasn’t … I wasn’t ready…” you whimpered, choking on your sobs.    

Wisps of dark hair fell over his eyes, brushing his eyelashes as he panted out, “Your Highness.” He shrunk his eyes at you, snarling, “You are to address me properly, you ungrateful peasant.” 

The words stung you, bringing tears to your eyes. 

“It hurts, your Highness,” you mumbled slowly.

 “Do I look like I care? You will get used to it,” was his reply. 

Something about your teary eyes aroused him, heightening his pleasure. Serves you right for being thankless, he thought. You lay beneath him, watching him tear into you, his exacting hands gripping your hips agonizingly hard. The lack of lubrication made your insides burn. You could do nothing but grit your teeth and bear it. 

Your fear had tightened your walls and had made you feel even better for him. His sinful groans chilled you to the bones, heating your cheeks and causing your core to throb. He thrust harder and harder, deep growls rumbling in his chest as your core pulsed around him. His forehead and torso glistened with sweat when he finally reached his high, releasing himself inside you with a feral groan. A huge smirk broke out on his face, and he pulled out of you. 

God, you felt a thousand times better than his hands ever did. What a fine day to turn eighteen! He was still blissed out when you scurried to make room for him on the bed. His eyes softened a bit before disgust clouded them.

“You have the audacity to think you can share a bed with the Prince?” he scoffed, rolling off the bed. 

The man really knew how to slice you with his words.

 “Dress me up,” he commanded, standing upright. 

Cheeks burning with shame and embarrassment, you clothed him again. As soon as your fingers finished tying his sash, he abruptly turned on his heel and exited the room without a word, leaving you quivering, naked and humiliated. 

*****   The days at the Palace were all the same. You had two maids whose job was to dress you up in the best silks of the land for the Prince. You were supposed to be ready to present yourself to the Prince at a moment’s notice. 

All-day long, you had nothing to do except wait for him to come back from his princely duties and throw himself at you. He never cared if you liked it or not. He ravaged you whenever he pleased, and deserted you as soon as he got dressed. It was as if you were just a mannequin for him to play with.

 But wasn’t it exactly what a Cimarin’s role was? Every Prince had a Cimarin to practice his husbandly duties with, so he could please his bride better. But everyone knew that the real reason was to curb unwanted displays of the Royal heir’s promiscuity with all the maidens of the Kingdom. 

The King usually chose a virgin damsel and appointed her as the Prince’s Cimarin. The title probably served to mask the bluntness of other words one would use to refer to such a companion. 

You had been granted access to saunter in the Royal gardens, but you had quickly learned that you were looked upon with contempt by the maids. To them, you were nothing but another maid of the Royal household, albeit a titled one. Your title did nothing to hide the fact that you were as disposable as they were. 

There were bitter stares directed at you whenever you ventured out of the Prince’s lair. It was even more difficult when you retired five days a month to your little room. No one cared to ask if you wanted anything to soothe the pain, no one brought you a morsel to eat. 

Once you hadn’t eaten during the entirety of your exile, only to be greeted back by the Prince sarcastically with “Those bones look good on you.”   

***** A whole year rolled by, filled with the Prince’s harsh claiming of your body. His habits of biting and pouncing on you had advanced to whipping and choking. He vented all his anger on you, punishing you for things you hadn’t the least to do with. He simply didn’t care if you were in pain because of him. You were his to destroy.

One day, he returned with a stormy temper, his foot sprained, all thanks to his horse, which had thrown him off the saddle. He shouted for you, his face all stony and seething with anger. 

When you rushed to his side, he thrust his foot in your face, saying “Bandage it.”

You ran out to the Royal doctor in your quest for bandages. 

As he waited impatiently, it occurred to him that he had come straight to you instead of summoning the doctor to his private chambers. What had brought him to you? Were you, the insignificant peasant, growing on him? 

When you returned, he searched your face for anything other than the usual revulsion and fear he had grown accustomed to. He noticed how your fingers trembled, evidently scared to make a mistake and get whipped for it. No, you didn’t even like him, he was sure of that. But why was it that he wanted you to think of him all the time, even if it were out of fear and hatred?

Your face was aligned with his foot, bandaging the sprained ankle as he rested his foot on your bent knee. 

“Kiss my foot,” he said, intently staring at you. 

You were taken aback by the strange command and blinked in confusion. 

“I said, kiss my foot,” he drawled lazily, “Which part of it is unclear to you?” 

Not wanting to get punished, you swallowed your pride and pecked the bridge of his foot. T

he Prince leaned back, satisfied. He decided it would be best to remind himself of your station with orders like these. You were not a Princess, surely you didn’t deserve to be treated like one. 

When you placed his foot down gingerly, he barked out, “Fetch me the cavalry officer.” 

He was always this blunt, leaving you to figure out who or what he wanted, leaving ample room for error, and consequently, painful punishments.    

When you ran out to the stables, you found the groom and asked for the cavalry officer on duty during the Prince’s accident. The groom sent you in search of an officer named Jimin. 

As you skidded to a halt in front of the said officer, you were stunned into silence. In front of you was a man looking like he had descended straight from the Heavens. 

His soft blond hair caught the sunlight and shone, and his grey eyes gleamed like jewels. He was dressed impeccably, the crisp riding uniform tailored to fit his lithe body perfectly, clinging to his toned frame. 

Only when he cleared his throat discreetly did you snap out of your trance. 

“Yes, miss?” he asked, and you marveled at his mellifluous voice. 

“The Prince… He wants you,” you managed to blurt out. 

Your cheeks felt hot, your whole body felt like it was on fire. The gallant officer nodded politely, thanking you for the message. He fell into step alongside you, silently walking towards the lair, as you secretly called it. 

As you walked with him by your side, you couldn’t stop the buzzing in your ears. Did he know you were the Cimarin? Did he look down upon you like the rest of the Royal servants did? Did he always dress this well? 

As you led him to the room, you had the sinking feeling that the officer probably knew what happened inside whenever the Prince frequented this part of his suite. You couldn’t bear to look at him when you presented him to the Prince and curtseyed out of the way. 

You could hear Prince Jeon’s deep sonorous voice shouting at the officer for not taking enough care about the steeds, but you found your ears struggling to filter and catch just the cavalryman’s soft measured replies. 

After the meeting ended, the blond man saluted his Prince and left the room, gliding out to the hall you were standing in. As he crossed you, his eyes flitted to yours, crinkling into beautiful crescents as he flashed you a gorgeous smile. You blushed furiously, unable to stop yourself from smiling back, the exchange feeling so natural and effortless. 

You were still in a happy mood when you went back in, it was so obvious that the Prince raised his eyebrows at you. 

“So happy that I’ve sprained my ankle, are you? Do not fret, I shall put my other body parts to good use while my foot recovers.” 

The rest of the afternoon, as the Prince pounded into you, the only face you could think of was that of the blond young officer.   

*****

One month and sixteen days. It had been that long until you had the chance of seeing the smart cavalry officer again. T

his time too, you were bringing him a message from the Prince. He was probably oblivious to the way his charms were making you mushy, or he might probably think nothing about a creature as lowly as a Cimarin. 

Either way, he never lingered near you a moment too long, taking all your breath with him as he marched away. As you stared at his retreating figure, a part of you fantasized about being an average country girl he would meet at inns, someone with an inkling of dignity he could proudly talk to. 

With a sigh, you turned back to the lair, it was getting late and God knew what punishment the Prince was brewing for you now. When you reached the room, however, Prince Jeon was nowhere to be seen. 

Just as you decided it was a lucky day for you, the Prince’s voice drifted from a nearby room. It was treason to overhear, and you hurried to the windows to shut the voice out when the subject of his talk froze you in place. 

“….. that I want another Cimarin,” he was saying. 

“What happened to the one you have now? Is she not good enough?” a deeper voice much like the Prince’s asked. 

Was it the King? You waited with a beating heart for the Prince to speak again. 

“She is satisfactory, your Majesty. But I still wish to have another one.” 

The King remained silent for a moment. “Do you want me to get rid of the present one then?” 

Your breath caught in your throat. Whatever did ‘get rid of’ mean? 

There was a long pause and the Prince replied, “No, your Majesty. She serves me well enough. I was wondering if I could have another Cimarin, in addition to this one. It is not uncommon to have a couple of Cimarins, I believe?” 

You closed the window, having heard enough. They were discussing you as if you were a slave, a toy they disposed of after playing with. Your head throbbed, and you had to calm yourself down before the Prince caught you red-faced and became suspicious.   

*****

When the Prince returned, he was quite put out. He had wanted to see if he felt the same way he felt about you with any other Cimarin. But the King had not given his word, rather choosing to say he would think about it. 

True, having a harem of Cimarins would defeat the purpose of having just one woman to take care of his needs until he got married. But how else would he find out if the feelings were just boyish lust? 

He was annoyed at you for putting him in this position. Had you made him a weak man who only thought with his crotch? How was it that the more he tried to distance himself from you, the more he found himself going back to you? 

You were seeping through the folds of his brain like poison. But the irony was that he wanted it. He wanted to be poisoned by you. Your eyes, your sweet-smelling hair, the way you bit your lips and scrunched your face when he entered you, it all made him go crazy. 

He lay down on the bed and beckoned to you. The rule was to either kneel on the bed or remain standing but to never lie down with him as an equal. Except, of course, he told you explicitly to do so. 

Today, however, he wanted your mouth on him, erasing away all those annoying thoughts that buzzed in his head. He caught your hair in his hand, guiding your mouth to his hard member. His moans filled the room as you got to work on him.

Catching hold of your head, he thrust his hips off the bed and hit your throat deep, enjoying the way your throat muscles constricted around him. He couldn’t help forcing his hands on the back of your head to take him deeper, causing you to make those gagging noises that made him go wild. 

He looked down at the dark hair that bobbed in his crotch and a thought flickered in his mind. You were so fragile that he could just end your life with a snap of his fingers. What if he choked you to death, stuffed full of him? 

His hands left your hair and circled the pulse points on your neck. He could feel your pulse throbbing against his fingertips. Just one hard press and he could break you, break all the insanity you were putting him through. 

Right at the moment he started to tighten his hold around your neck, there was a knock on the door. He let go of you, waiting for you to stuff his member back into his underclothes, and dress him up again.

*****   

 When you opened the door, there was officer Jimin, along with a person who looked more decorated, he was probably a higher authority of the cavalry. They had rolls of parchment in their hands, which they requested the Prince to sign. You went back in as the Prince made his way to the door to reach for the parchment. 

Embarrassment crept up your spine, you wished you could melt away instead of letting Jimin see you in the lair, hair disheveled and mouth crusted with come.

 But luck had its way, and the bottle of ink into which Prince Jeon dipped his quill slipped and shattered to pieces on the floor, splashing ink all over his feet. 

The irate Prince turned back and bellowed, “Hey, you! Come clean this mess.” 

 You scrambled to wipe the ink, feeling as insignificant as the dust on the floor. The Prince saw an opportunity to humiliate you further and thrust his ink-smeared foot towards you. 

Ears burning, you blotted up the ink as well as you could with the end of your robes. You knew he would have a fit if you used the rag to wipe his precious feet. When you were done, he proceeded to nudge his foot into the crook of your hips.

“Pick all the glass.” 

You wished the ground would swallow you. Here you were on all fours, picking glass pieces at the feet of three men, one being the man you had never wanted to witness your mortification. As you hurried, the minute shards pierced your palms, drawing blood. 

When you bit your lips and raised your head, you saw two soft grey eyes looking at you with concern. The indignity was too much to bear, and you gathered all the shards and fled into the room. The grey eyes followed you, unaware that a pair of cold black eyes were staring at them with dark malice.   

***** When the two men turned to leave, the Prince waved one hand at Jimin saying, “Jimin will stay behind.” You instinctively stiffened on hearing it. 

Seeing Jimin look at you with such softness had kindled a fire in the Prince’s chest. He had to establish who you belonged to. 

“You! You ruined my feet on the pretext of cleaning them. Let me hear you whip yourself ten times,” he yelled from the door. 

You hung your head, catching sight of Jimin’s horrified face when you reached for the whip. 

As the whip cracked through the air, hitting you and bringing broken gasps of pain, the Prince enjoyed the growing look of dismay on his subordinate’s face. 

“Is she counting right?” he asked Jimin lazily. The officer stood motionless, unable to respond. When he was finally excused after the sounds of the whip ceased, he turned and marched away, wiping the tears in his eyes.  

Back in the lair, the only words directed to you after Jimin had left were, “Don’t you dare graze me with those shards. I don’t want your blood on me either.”

 As much as it had irked him to make you whip yourself, he justified it to himself that it was to keep Jimin from looking at you that way again. He was sure the man knew what you had been really punished for. He would make up for the pain by going easy on you that night. But he had to change his mind because when he reached to touch you, he was annoyed by the way you flinched. Well, if you wouldn’t behave, you quite deserved the whip. That was one load off his chest, sympathy didn’t really suit him.  

*****   The next day, you were alone in the lair, an official duty had required Prince Jeon to ride far away, on a trip spanning three days. You were considering retiring to your little room when there was a hesitant knock on the door. 

You didn’t recognize this knock. It wasn’t the maids, they ignored you when the Prince was away. It couldn’t be the Prince either, he had left early, he was accustomed to throwing the door open without knocking anyway. 

You opened the door slowly, catching sight of a breathless Jimin in the foyer. He stood there panting, unsure of himself. Finally, he pulled himself together.

“Miss? I was wondering if I could have a word with you?” 

You nodded your head, and he hastily added, “Not here.” 

He looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Could you meet me by the rose bushes?” 

There was an urgency in his voice and you replied in the affirmative. He left as abruptly as he had come, not turning back once. 

You made sure you were dressed as inconspicuously as possible, and threw a cloak on, before slipping out of the room unnoticed. The rose bushes were in a dark spot of the Royal gardens, and it was secluded enough to provide privacy. 

When you reached the bushes, Jimin was already waiting for you, his hands in the pockets of his breeches. 

“Miss, I can’t express how sorry I am, it was all my fault yesterday that you had to harm yourself,” he started, his words tumbling out in a rapid torrent. 

He extended his palm towards you with a soft “If I may..” 

When you gave him your hands, he examined the little cut wounds on your palms. 

“I am truly sorry for the suffering I caused you,” he repeated, his eyes now glistening as he took in the welts on your forearm. 

Instinctively you pulled the frills on the sleeves to hide them. He didn’t need to see them and feel more guilty. But he had already seen them, his heart bleeding on seeing you trying to put on a brave face for him. 

“Please do not worry, officer. I am fine. I really am.”

  “Please, call me Jimin. I have to tell you something else, miss” he said.

 “Please call me Y/N. No one here even knows my name,” you mumbled. 

You wanted to hear your name roll off his tongue, you wanted to hear your name pronounced in his mellow voice. 

“Y/N,” he repeated, looking deep into your eyes, “I came to tell you as soon as I heard it. The Prince has requested another Cimarin and the King was just discussing with the minister on whether he should get rid of you.” 

This was something you already knew, except for the fact that the King wouldn’t let the Prince have two Cimarins. 

“I came to tell you I will do everything in my power to help you if you want to escape,” he continued. 

Your eyes widened. So did he care about you, the lowly Cimarin? There was heavy silence before you spoke. 

“But wouldn’t that be treason, Jimin?” you asked in a low voice. 

He looked torn between his Royal obligation and his need to help you. 

“I am prepared to face anything if it ensures your safety,” he replied. 

Your heart swelled on seeing his earnest face. 

“I think the Prince would not relinquish his hold of me that easily. There is still time. But I thank you sincerely for offering your help.” 

He shifted on his feet hesitantly, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say next. “Can I meet you again? Would you mind coming with me to a certain place tomorrow?” 

Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest, and you replied: “I’d love to.” 

A relieved smile blossomed on his face, and he gently raised your hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. Little did he know of the storm the feeling of his lips was causing inside you. 

He waited for you to leave first, promising to call on you the next day. Suddenly after so many days of darkness, it felt like the sun was beginning to rise in your life.   

*****

The next day, Jimin was there at your doorstep again, true to his promise. 

“I hope you ride?” he asked as he extended his arm to you. 

“I’m afraid I don’t,” you replied shyly. 

He grinned and patted your arm, saying, “Not to worry, Y/N.” 

He smuggled you out of the Royal grounds, taking you to the stables. There was a gorgeous steed swishing its tail, tied to a tree. You pulled the hood of your cloak to hide your face, eyes scanning the surroundings to make sure no one saw you. 

Jimin mounted the horse with a graceful jump and held his hand out to you. His strong arms pulled you up in a side-saddle position, to make up for the lack of your riding habit. He galloped off into the woods, holding you in place between his arms, the wind tearing at your hair. 

It felt wonderful, as if you were on wings, riding to oblivion, far far away from the horrors of the lair. Behind you, Jimin’s warm chest felt like a wall of safety, resting on your back and spreading tendrils of happiness all over you. 

On reaching the heart of the woods, he helped you dismount, and led his horse to water, tying it up securely. When he returned, he was smiling broadly, with no trace of condescendence in his eyes, very unlike the Prince’s. 

He led you to the banks of a small rivulet flowing through the woods, laying his robe down for you to sit on. He sat down beside you, saying, “Hold my hand.” 

He composed himself for a moment and said: “There is something about you that keeps drawing me to you.” 

Blood rose to your cheeks, painting them red as you bent down, trying your best to hide your shy smile. He reached out to lift your chin and found you blushing furiously. He wanted to be sure you liked him too before he made a fool of himself. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, searching your eyes. “Do you feel the same way about me?” 

This felt too good to be true. Was this a dream? You couldn’t believe your ears. 

“Jimin, is this out of pity? Everyone else despises me at the Palace,” you breathed. 

He scoffed and shook his head. 

“Do you think I care about what they think? And no, this is not out of pity. I offered to help you, yes, but this is something that I’ve been meaning to ask you for quite some time.” 

He looked ahead at the water, lost in thought. 

“I like you,” you said softly. 

At that, his head turned to you, blonde hair dancing over his eyes. 

“Did you just say what I thought I heard you say?”

You said nothing, choosing to smile wide instead. He clasped your hand tightly, joy evident on his features. 

“But don’t you find me repulsive? I am just the Prince’s…” 

He placed a finger on your lips before you could say anymore. “Don’t beat yourself up thinking like that. You did not choose to do it. You were forced to obey a Royal order.” 

He squeezed your hand reassuringly, adding, “I would never find you repulsive. It is a promise upon my honor.” 

Tears welled in your eyes, as a huge burden was lifted off your shoulders. He genuinely liked you, he didn’t think you were easy prey, nor did he look down on you. Maybe your future wasn’t bleak after all. You nestled closer to him and wrapped his free hand around your shoulder. 

Fondness flooded his face as he ruffled your hair. God, he was going to take such good care of you. He had been unable to sleep the whole night on that wretched day, his ears ringing with the cracks of the whip. He shuddered and pulled you closer. He wouldn’t mind if he had to die to protect you from that monster of a Prince. 

The whole afternoon passed with comfortable ease, both of you talking and getting to know each other better. It was the first time in months that you breathed freely, laughing at Jimin’s little jokes and marveling at the way his eyes regarded you. 

On the ride back to the Palace, he held the reins in one hand, the other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you as if you were a precious treasure to him. That night was the first in months that you slept without any worry about the future. You had a person who loved you with all his heart, Cimarin or not.   

*****

The three days Prince Jeon had been away were the ones you treasured the most. They were filled with happiness and laughs, delicate holding of hands and deep talk. The more you talked, the more you fell for Jimin. 

You remembered how he had attempted to kiss you; he had been remarkably nervous for a cavalryman who was used to fighting battles. He had cupped your face in his hands, tilting his head to align his lips with yours. Just as his breath had ghosted your lips, you had pulled away. You still remembered the shocked look on his face. 

He had begun to stammer his apologies before you had cut him short saying, “I want to kiss you as your woman, and your woman only. Not as the Cimarin.” 

You giggled when you recalled how relieved he looked on hearing that. True, he had tried to get a kiss from you at least five times after that, proclaiming that he did not care about sentiments like those. But you had slipped from his arms every time, teasing him, saying it would all be worth the wait. 

As you lay on the bed with your eyes closed, a cold voice shook you out of your pleasant reverie. 

“What the devil are you grinning about?” 

You jumped to your feet in horror, the Prince had returned already. He looked at you with narrowed eyes, which were heavy with fatigue. Without waiting for your reply, he pulled you towards him, collapsing on the bed with his arms wrapped snugly around your waist. He fell asleep within seconds, arms hugging you tight. As you lay there in his embrace, you couldn’t help wishing it were Jimin holding you, not the Prince. You smiled again, even thinking about him made bliss course through your veins. 

What were you going to do to hold on to his hand? He was the only bright light in your tunnel of darkness. You looked down at the head resting on your bosom. God forbid the Prince ever found out about Jimin.   

***** Weeks later, a rumor wafted through the Royal household, multiplying as it passed each ear and left each mouth. Someone had claimed that they had seen a Palace horse in the woods, carrying a rider and a cloaked woman. 

It made your face go pale when your maids talked about it while they were dressing you up for the day. Your heart beat faster, not able to control the fear that threatened to make your lips tremble. 

Fortunately, your maids didn’t notice, too busy gossiping away. But the Prince did. He cast one look at your face and raised his eyebrows.

 “Don’t tell me it is time for you to retire to your room for the month already. I might have you whipped for making me come this far for nothing.” 

You shook your head, not trusting your voice.

“What else is it then?” he huffed. 

You weren’t sure if he knew it yet. Palace horses weren’t for romantic trysts, and you knew it would cause serious trouble if the rumor was reported to him. 

“It is nothing your Highness,” you replied, crossing your fingers, “I just have a headache.” 

To your surprise, he placed his thumbs on your temples, pressing them lightly. His face was impassive, but his touch was unusually gentle. 

“Stop squirming,” he said, holding his thumbs in place, keeping your back pressed against his chest. “Better?” he asked, pulling your jaw to face him. 

“Y-Yes…” you stammered. 

This was unusual and somehow scary. Prince Jeon was actually in deep thought. He had been told of the Palace horse incident that morning, but he hadn’t a clue on who the miscreants were. He decided to call the cavalry officers and investigate, but he didn’t want to send you out into the sun with your headache. 

“Get one of the maids, and tell them I summoned officers Shin Ho and Park Jimin,” he murmured to you. 

You obediently left and returned when you had sent a maid on the errand. The Prince was pacing the room, his mind preoccupied with the events that had happened the previous night. 

His father had sent for him, telling him there was a prospective bride for him from the Kingdom of Huwan. He had provided a portrait of the Princess Leila of Huwan, beautifully rendered in pastels by the Royal artist. Instead of being thrilled, the Prince found himself staring at the portrait in dismay. 

The Princess did look captivatingly beautiful, but he felt nothing, she didn’t stir his heart. He had listened to his father talk about all the political ties the union would bring and all the wealth that would reach the Royal coffers. 

“This is a wonderful proposal, and I want you to consider this carefully,” the King had told him. 

Prince Jeon had been caught off-guard. He hadn’t expected to get married at nineteen, but when it came to issues of Royal unions, it was the King’s word that ultimately prevailed. This was a dilemma and according to him, you were the root cause of it. You had messed with his mind and ruined him. But he couldn’t think of a way to salvage the situation. 

Just as all these thoughts were running through his mind, you returned and stood by the bed as was the custom. Damn you. Why hadn’t you been born a Princess? He hated you for placing him in such a knot. He stood observing your lowered head, those eyelashes dusting your cheeks, making you look the picture of innocence. His attention was broken by the sound of footsteps on the foyer, followed by a brisk knock. 

You ran to open the door, moving back to the farthest corner of the room after the Prince reached the doorstep. 

“Shin Ho,” the Prince began, “It has come to my ears that someone from the Palace had taken a woman to the woods on a Palace steed during my absence. It appears that they were engaged in a liaison, such was the report that reached me.” 

As the Prince addressed officer Shin Ho, unadulterated shock registered on Jimin’s face, and he caught sight of you standing behind the Prince, hands covering your mouth to muffle your gasp. 

“This kind of behavior is inexcusable; I want you to inquire into this. I want to know which bastard had the nerve to take one of my horses for a dalliance with some woman.” 

You found yourself struggling to breathe. An innocent stroll in the woods had been warped into an ugly liaison by wagging tongues. What would happen if someone in the stables remembered that Jimin had taken a horse on the specific day and let it slip to officer Shin Ho? You were shaking in apprehension when Jimin caught your eye and shook his head subtly. 

‘Don’t give yourself away,’ his eyes seemed to tell you. 

Prince Jeon discussed with the officers for some more time, telling them how the issue was to be handled. When the officers finally took their leave, you were rooted to the spot, not hearing when the Prince called you twice. 

“Have you gone deaf?” he hollered, shaking you by the shoulders. “What has gotten into you?” 

He was half-distracted by the Princess Leila issue that your shaky limbs and guilt-ridden face didn’t quite register on his usually sharp mind. He wanted to forget everything for some time and get lost inside you. He let go of your shoulders. 

“On your knees, take me in your mouth.” 

When you dropped down to your knees and obediently started working your mouth on his member, he wondered if he could order Princess Leila to do all the things he made you do to him. He closed his eyes to recall her face from the portrait, but to his surprise, he couldn’t even remember how she looked like. Your face kept flashing, replacing hers on the portrait in his subconscious eye. You had become a threat to his sanity.   

***** Exactly one fortnight later, the King summoned Prince Jeon again, asking him for his decision. It was just rhetorical, both of them knew, because the King had already made up his mind and had sent a pigeon to the King of Huwan. 

The news somehow broke out and spread through the Palace like wildfire. When your maids arrived the next day, one of them gave you a haughty look before saying, “I am so eager to see how you would perform your duties as the chambermaid, O mighty Cimarin.” 

Her mouth stretched into a sneer when you looked at her with bewildered eyes.

 “Whatever do you mean?” 

She clucked her tongue, whispering: “We are going to have a proper Princess in this household, someone worthy of the Prince’s attention. I can’t wait to see her kick you out of the Palace. Because, my dear, you are nothing but scum.” 

“And what do you think you are?” a deep voice boomed behind you, as Prince Jeon stood with his nose flaring. 

The maid immediately straightened, muttering incoherent syllables of explanation as the Prince ambled forward, laying a hand on your shoulder. 

He leaned in towards her, making her uncomfortable, and looked straight at her eyes hissing, “You are not to step foot inside the Royal grounds. I will have you beheaded if I see you again.” You saw the woman’s countenance turn ashen. 

“Your Highness, was she telling the truth?” you asked slowly, after the terrified woman fled the room. 

“What was she telling you?” he asked, looking at your reflection in the mirror of the vanity table.

 “That you will be having a bride…” your voice trailed off. 

His hand left your shoulder as if it had been scalded. So you had come to know about it? He misread the look on your face, assuming you were mocking him. You thought he was too drunk with a Cimarin to marry a Princess? Well, he would prove you wrong. 

“Yes, I am.”

 He straightened to stand at his full height, as you rose quickly to your feet. He couldn’t decipher the reaction on your face. Were you as annoyed about it as he was? He wanted to make you hurt as much as he was hurting inside. 

“Well?” he asked, “What is with that look?” 

He cocked his head to the side, saying, “You didn’t expect me to….”

 He threw his head back in mirth. “You thought I would marry you?” 

He laughed loudly, seeing your face twist in humiliation. 

“You are nothing but a concubine” he sneered. “I would never marry a woman like you.” 

He saw the way your lips trembled, shame evident on your face. It made him feel better, he did not want to suffer alone, he had to make you suffer with him. When he left your room an hour later, leaving your body ravaged and bitten, he was sure he had broken you, as much as you had broken him.  

*****

As the months reduced to weeks, and the weeks flew by in haste, the Prince’s behavior towards you became more and more hysterical. He taunted and jibed at you without the slightest provocation. 

He was nervous, unsure of how he would handle his new bride. He released all of his nervous anxiety on you, belittling you and hurting your mind as well as your body. 

At long last, the day of the wedding grew nearer, and the King and Queen of Huwan arrived at the capital. The Palace was decorated with the finest of the Kingdom’s artworks. All-day long, the maids polished the silver and china till they sparkled and shone. The whole Palace was buzzing with feverish excitement, caught up in the whirlwind of the Royal wedding. 

The Prince, however, didn’t stop visiting you. If anything, he visited more often than he had ever done. He never spoke anything about his impending wedding, choosing to talk about your worthlessness instead. You felt like all the insults he hurled at you were sinking in, threatening to make you believe you were nothing more than a slave destined to die at his feet. 

You hadn’t seen Jimin since the day the Prince sent him out to inquire about the misuse of the Palace horse. The only solace you had in these dark times was the memories of those three carefree magical days in the woods.   

It was the eve of the wedding, and all the servants of the Royal household had been instructed to gather in the threshold of the Royal Hall to welcome the new bride. You stood at the very back of the line of servants, craning your neck to see what the new Princess looked like. 

A few minutes later, a magnificent carriage drew up to the steps, and out stepped the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her clothes were made of the loveliest satin, and everything about her features screamed perfection. She had elaborate jet-black curls arranged in ringlets, framing her face and setting off her pale skin perfectly. 

The Prince reached out to her, kissing her knuckles and requesting her arm, to which she happily obliged. She glided up the steps, accepting the welcome of the servants with a gentle bow of her head. The Prince was searching for you along the rows and smirked haughtily when he caught your eyes. As they sailed into the specially decorated ballroom, you couldn’t help thinking they looked perfect for each other. 

You knew the Prince would always be on the best of his behavior with his bride. Because after all, Royal wives were for soft lovemaking and breeding heirs, while Cimarins were for satisfying animalistic desires.   

******

The Royal wedding took place with eminent people from far and wide in attendance. 

The Prince had looked his smartest, in a crisp white wedding suit, with gold piping along the shoulders and Royal decorations adorning the breast of his suit. The Princess had glowed in a dreamy white gown, tailored to show off her slender body beautifully. 

As the guests retired to the ballroom for toasts, a hand pulled you to a relatively abandoned area of the Palace. 

“Y/N,” Jimin whispered, “I almost went mad without seeing you for months.” 

His face looked deeply troubled, and he continued, “Come away with me, I shall take you to the farthest land from here, and we shall live as man and wife.” 

Your mouth fell open, the prospect of running away numbing you into silence. 

When you finally regained control over your voice, you asked, “How can we go away without getting caught? The Royal guards are everywhere. How would we cross the borders of the Kingdom?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Leave all of it to me, I only seek your consent. I shall take care of everything.” 

He pressed your hands in his, earnest eyes looking determined. 

“I shall come with you,” you said, squeezing his hands and nodding your head urgently. 

His whole face lit up with elation, all the worry washing away. 

“I will come back and take you when I have everything ready,” he promised and left you after kissing your hands. 

When you walked back to your lair, there was a ball of fear crushing your chest, making it difficult to breathe.   

*****

As you lay on the bed tossing and turning, worrying about Jimin and how you were supposed to escape the Royal guards, there was a heavy rain pouring outside. Everyone had rejoiced that it was a good omen on a wedding night, but to you, the thunder rumbling outside only served to make the night eerier. 

Sleep refused to touch your eyelids, and the wind howling outside your window made your worry grow even more pronounced. 

Suddenly, the door was thrown open with a crash, and a flash of lightning illuminated the profile of the Prince, standing framed by the doorway. He walked in unsteadily, holding a bottle in his hand, swaying slightly. 

The man had been thoroughly intoxicated, the front of his white dressing gown soaked with alcohol. It clung to his body, the white fabric sheer with all the alcohol, showing off his chest with every flash of lightning. He chuckled in a drunken stupor, pulling the sheets and clawing at your legs. You were terrified. This was his wedding night, and what was he doing here, hovering over your legs? 

He took another swig from the bottle and threw it away, the glass shattering to pieces as he wiped his mouth with his forearm. There was an ominous smirk on his face now, and he pushed your legs apart as wide as he could. 

He would never tell a soul what had really happened in his bedroom a couple hours before. He had watched his bride undress sensually, and had noted how much effort she put into making it appeal to him. He had caressed her breasts, running his fingers over her body. He had peeled all the layers of fabric from her body expecting to grow hard. But he had felt nothing. 

Nothing was stirring in his breeches, and to his horror, he had found he was flaccid, his body showing no response to her nakedness. The Royal women were not educated on matters of the bedroom, so she was blissfully unaware of his problem. His cheeks had started burning, he could not allow himself to be humiliated like that. 

He had to imagine your scrunched up face and work on his member to get it hard. When he had entered her and started rocking his hips, he had found the lovemaking too slow for him to enjoy. He had always been a man of feral passion with you, and the irritating slowness had made him go crazy. But he had known better than to be harsh with his bride, he would always have to be careful to never let that side of him slip. When he had finally done the deed, he had escaped as soon as she had drifted off to sleep. The mortification had made him go in search of alcohol, and finally, in search of you.   

As he pushed into you, he let out a long drawn out moan, almost demonic in nature. He started thrusting like a mad man, trying to prove to himself that he had not lost his masculinity and that he was indeed a man of vigor. You caught sight of his eyes, blown wide, as he rammed into you with all his might. 

The lightning made his eyes look predatory, and his snarling teeth made it more frightening. His sounds echoed throughout the room, the bed creaking in harmony with his loud grunts. Finally, when he climaxed, he threw his head back in euphoria. He bit his lip as he emptied himself inside you, deciding he would never let go of you. You were always going to be his Cimarin. 

*****

You woke with a start when a fresh peal of thunder sounded outside, to find the Prince draped over you, his tousled hair tickling your chin. You gently nudged him awake. 

“Your Highness, it is almost dawn.” 

He mumbled sleepily, looking at you in confusion before realization hit him. 

“Quick, dress me up,” he commanded urgently. 

It would never do for the Prince to be caught sleeping away from his wife on the first dawn of his married life. He bolted through the door as quickly as he could, not looking back at you once. The shattered glass was lying everywhere, and you got to work cleaning it, wondering if this was going to happen every night until you escaped.   

***** It was exactly a week later that officer Shin Ho requested an audience with Prince Jeon. He brought a young stable boy with him and had a quick meeting with the Prince. When he left, the Prince was fuming and trembling with anger. He marched straight to the lair, throwing the door open with unusual force. The bed was empty, and you were gone.   

“Hold on a little tighter, lamb. I don’t want you to fall,” Jimin said, riding as fast as he could. 

He was tearing through the wind, whip cracking in the air as he urged his horse to go faster. The hooves were thudding as loudly as your heart was. This time around, you were seated behind him, clasping his waist in your arms, chest draped on his back. You held on tighter and closed your eyes, praying to every powerful force in the world to deliver you safely from the clutches of the Prince. 

You were sure the Prince would have found you were missing by now, and there was a definite possibility that the best riders of the Kingdom had been dispatched to alert the guards at the borders. 

You rode on for what seemed like hours until you had to stop to let the horse drink water. 

“You feeling alright, love?” Jimin asked, catching stray strands of hair and tucking them behind your ears. 

You nodded, collapsing into his chest in a tight hug. 

“You will be alright,” he said, kissing the top of your head, patting your back reassuringly. 

“Let me ask you something, you once said that you liked me. But, fair maiden, do you love me?” 

His eyes twinkled as you peeled yourself from him to look at him indignantly. 

“I would not have come this far if I hadn’t loved and trusted you,” you said and hit his chest with balled fists. 

He chuckled merrily, catching hold of your small fists with a fond look lighting up his features. 

“Let us go then, my love, we shall go far away from all this din and love each other to our heart’s content.” 

******

When you resumed riding, it was past midday, you could tell from the short shadows cast on the ground. You had ridden on for a few more hours when you reached a forest. 

“We need to cross this if we are to avoid going into the village,” Jimin said, cajoling the horse to trot past the prickly bushes that were overgrown on both sides. 

They scratched and jabbed, but you made no complaint, it was nothing compared to what the Prince had done to you ever so often. 

Suddenly, your ears caught a sound, which felt like it came from right ahead of you. You strained your ears, patting Jimin slowly to let him know that you had heard something. 

“Jimin, I think…” you were saying, when an arrow shot right through the trees, hitting Jimin straight at his chest, causing him to gasp and topple from the horse. Frightened by the sudden movement, the horse reared and bucked, throwing you off before fleeing into the dense forest. 

“Jimin! Jimin!’ you cried, kneeling and tapping his face. 

Only then did you see the arrow still sticking out from his chest, drawing blood that pooled around him, staining the forest floor. You started wailing, calling his name out like a prayer, trying to keep him conscious. 

“Y/N,” he breathed out, coughing, blood spurting from his mouth. 

“No no no Jimin, stay with me, don’t leave me” you sobbed, tears flowing and landing on his face. 

“Y/N, ” he said again, blood pouring from the sides of his mouth in a steady stream now. His eyes were losing their luster, and his breathing was becoming rugged. He struggled to keep his eyes open and parted his lips to form a whisper.

“Kiss me.” 

You bent down urgently to place your lips on his, crashing your mouth on his in desperation. But you were met with no yield, his lips did not move to kiss you back. When you pulled away in confusion to look at him, his eyes had stilled, and a lone tear trickled out of the corner of his eyes.

Your wails filled the air, each powerful sob racking your body as you screamed out, wringing your heart in anguish. There was nothing more for you to do, the only light in your life had been snuffed out. It hurt you like someone had punched a hole in your chest, and pulled your heart through your ribs. 

As you kneeled there, your clothes bloodied and Jimin’s head on your lap, the thunder of hooves growing nearer sent vibrations coursing through the ground. 

A pair of riding boots dismounted from the horse with a thud, and you heard a disgustingly familiar sing-song voice saying, “Well well, if it isn’t the Kingdom’s whore.” 

Your tear-filled eyes made out the blurred figure of the body you knew only too well. 

“I could cut you to pieces for betraying me like this, whore!” he said, drawing his sword out and placing it on your shoulder, the blade pressing into the side of your neck. 

“But what is the thrill in that?” he pulled his sword back, the blade cutting the skin of your neck and drawing blood. 

You remained kneeling on the ground, eyes blank, not moving or uttering anything. 

He bent down and bunched your hair in his fist, pulling you up with a harsh tug. 

“You will return to the Palace with me, and serve my wife. You will be the chambermaid, and I shall strip you of your honor, I shall enjoy doing so.” 

His hold on your hair tightened, and he pulled your face closer, placing a volley of stinging slaps on your cheeks until his hands smarted. 

“Lying, scheming ungrateful whore,” he spat out, throwing you over his horse. 

You were lying uncomfortably across the horse, head and legs on either side of the animal. From your position, you saw Jimin’s body lying on the ground, face upturned towards the sky, your eyes never leaving his body as the horse trotted farther and farther away from the scene until he became a dot and disappeared from your line of sight.   

****** Your hand clutched the small hunting knife you had extracted from Jimin’s robes. Life was no longer worth living, there was no Jimin anymore to love you and protect you. You would rather get beheaded than go live with this monster again, you would not endure his violence any longer. There was no reason to endure him, as you now had no purpose in life. You decided it would be better to be hanged than serve Prince Jeon again. 

Clasping the knife tightly, you raised yourself from your awkward position and turned, seeing the surprise on the Prince’s face turn into horror when you sliced the knife through the air, plunging it into his heart with all your might. Both of you fell on the ground, rolling in the dust. 

The knife was embedded deeply in his chest and only a part of the hilt jutted out. You screamed like a madwoman, rushing to your feet and climbing over him, swinging your legs on either side of him. You pulled with all your strength, and retrieved the knife, stabbing him again with as much force you could muster. The Prince’s mouth opened and closed several times, straining to clear the blood that was choking his breath. 

You didn’t stop screaming as you reached out to clasp your hands around his neck, pressing hard and never letting go. The screams leaving your body turned into powerful sobs, your hands only left his neck when his pulse had stopped throbbing. 

His eyes had bulged wide in his fight for air. You let go and rolled off of him, the catharsis hitting you like a wall of bricks. The monster had finally been killed. 

*****   It was a glorious morning, you could hear the sweet chirping of birds drifting through the air. 

You were at peace, all feelings wiped from your mind as you were led through the dark corridors. 

The chains on your hands and feet were clanking with each step. The long corridor opened into an arena, where hundreds of people had gathered. 

When you were led to the guillotine on the podium, the chains were loosened and your hands were cuffed. 

You looked at the sky, which was a beautiful rosy pink. It reminded you of Jimin. You smiled. He always brought a smile on your face. 

“Off with her head,” the King bellowed. 

You raised your face to the sky one last time. 

“I’m coming Jimin, I shall come to you and kiss you, my love,” you whispered, closing your eyes.  

[curiosity-killed]

unspectacular things

Word count: 1509 on ao3

“Gege, why did you become the Guoshi of Yong An?” He’s been banished to lean against a tree while Xie Lian washes out his spare robes — a singular set, just as plain and worn as the ones he’s currently wearing. Hua Cheng itches with the urge to tell him to set it aside; he could summon up chests full of fine silk robes, soft as a breeze with none of the ground-in stains of these, or he could at least call up a ghost to clean the robes for His Highness. It would be easy as a flick of his fingers. But — but he’s trying not to push too much. And Xie Lian has seemed oddly content with the work, tying his sleeves back and humming absentminded tunes as he scrubs. “It really was an accident,” Xie Lian says with a little laugh, self-conscious. Hua Cheng waits, toying with the end of his braid. He’s not sure when he learned patience; it certainly wasn’t a skill of his when he was alive. For His Highness, though, he could wait millennia and not grow restless.

“After my first banishment,” Xie Lian says after a moment, wringing the fabric between his hands, “I — I did some awful things. I wasn’t a very good person. But there was someone — a nameless ghost — who stayed by me all that time.”

The coral bead bites into the pads of Hua Cheng’s fingers as he freezes, pressing down too hard in surprise. It takes a moment for his voice to work. When it does, it comes out distant, as if spoken by someone else entirely. “Your Highness remembers someone so insignificant?” he asks. A small furrow appears in Xie Lian’s brow, one hand reaching up to brush against the string of his bamboo hat before falling back to the robes. “He believed in me when I least deserved it,” he says simply. “I treated him poorly, and he still sacrificed himself to save me from my own mistake. That’s not insignificant.” It’s not like Hua Cheng has forgotten this. For most of the last eight hundred years, he had managed to protect his prince only twice. It wasn’t enough in either case, but he still remembers the brutal seed of satisfaction he felt as the spirits tore him apart, knowing that His Highness had returned to himself, would fight against that filthy demon instead of following its insidious lead. He’d died with a grin, that time. But he’d never expect Xie Lian to remember it, to remember any version of him. He doesn’t squirm, but he shifts uneasily against the bark, unsure of what to make of this discovery. Xie Lian’s lips thin. He draws in a breath before shaking his head slightly.

“He helped remind me of what mattered, how I wanted to help the common people. I guess…I thought that maybe if I tried to help people, I could become more like someone who deserved his faith,” he says. “As Guoshi, I could see how Yong An treated the remnants of Xianle, but I could also…do better. Or at least try.” Discomfort tremors up Hua Cheng’s bones, like he’s woken to the world tilted half a rotation to the left. It’s one thing if His Highness remembers some iteration of him, but it’s unthinkable that he should feel any sort of debt or unworthiness. The notion has his head spinning. “It would be any ghost’s honor to die for Your Highness,” he says. The look Xie Lian slides him is somewhere between a frown and a smile, like he’s trying to piece Hua Cheng together but enjoying the puzzle. He doesn’t know what to make of that, either. “I don’t want anyone to die for me,” Xie Lian says as he draws the robes up from the water. “My dream was always to protect the common people, not the other way around.” Pursing his lips, Hua Cheng lets his gaze fall away from Xie Lian’s face to rest on his hands. Sunlight limns each square knuckle, paints gold along the callouses from swordplay and hard work. He’s never understood Xie Lian’s belief in the common people. Humanity is ugly and vicious, monstrous even when it grins. He is proof of that. So much of Xie Lian’s own suffering is proof — and yet still, still, he stands there in his faded white robes and extends his hand over and over again to the undeserving masses. Humanity’s failings reveal his own divinity, and still, Xie Lian puts his faith in them. “Besides,” Xie Lian says, “he had more to live for than dying for my mistakes. He had a beloved still in the world somewhere.” Yes, Hua Cheng thinks, staring a little, and he was an idiot to think he knew what it meant to love. What did he know of it back then? Devotion, worship — the willingness to die a thousand deaths if it was in Xie Lian’s name. Wu Ming was useless and foolish, still just a child playing at maturity. “I should have helped him find them, instead,” Xie Lian says, as if to himself. “He did.”

Xie Lian startles, twisting from where he’s spreading his robe out to dry on some rocks, and Hua Cheng curses himself for his own runaway words. “It’s been so many centuries, gege,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head as casually as he can. “Surely he found them either in death or in their next life.” Surprise flickers across Xie Lian’s expression before he dips his head. A smile curls his lips, soft and warm and cracking Hua Cheng’s unbeating heart down the center. He looks up with a brighter smile, a teasing edge to the way he narrows his eyes. “San Lang ah, such a romantic,” he teases. “Who would have thought Crimson Rain Sought Flowers was so sweet?” Hua Cheng scoffs, looking away, but he can feel the smile tugging at his lips even as he does. The grass rustles as Xie Lian stands, and Hua Cheng looks up as he folds himself down to sit in a patch of sunlight nearer to him. Xie Lian smiles up at the dappled light with his eyes closed, and Hua Cheng thinks, in that instant, that he would die every day to see a single moment of such contentment in Xie Lian’s face. Even now, centuries removed from the throne, he sits with the graceful posture of a prince. His hands lay one over the other just shy of his knees, his sleeves still pulled back to reveal that silk band wound around one wrist and the other bared up to the elbow. “Ah but San Lang, you still haven’t told your beloved either,” he says, blinking his eyes open to look at Hua Cheng. The sun catches in the darks of his eyes and warms them to firelit copper. Hua Cheng exhales a soft laugh and tilts his face toward the canopy. “For me, gege, I only want for them to be safe and happy,” he says. “If I can protect them somehow, that is enough.” At his side, Xie Lian makes a small humming noise like he’s thinking. Quiet settles between them, warm like the sun. From the corner of his eye, Hua Cheng can see Xie Lian breathing in the cool breeze, his hair catching on the wind and lifting in strands from his shoulders. “Your beloved is very lucky,” Xie Lian says after a while, quietly. “When you tell them, I am certain they will be the happiest person in the world.” For a moment, he almost tells him. He almost turns to Xie Lian and says no you’re not. You’re the unluckiest person I’ve ever met. But Xie Lian is too kind. He would smile softly and apologize for not reciprocating Hua Cheng’s feelings, as if it is by some failing of his own that so unworthy a creature loves him, and he would take that hurt upon himself. Memory is a long step from love. So Hua Cheng rolls his head back toward Xie Lian and grins, easy and teasing. “Now who is the romantic, gege mm?” Startling, Xie Lian laughs like the high, clear ring of a bell. Hua Cheng allows himself a brief sense of smug satisfaction at having drawn out such a joyful noise. “Ah, San Lang,” Xie Lian laughs, breaking his own posture to lean back on his palms like he’s a carefree boy, “forgive this old man his sentimentality.” His voice is cheerful and not terribly repentant, and Hua Cheng grins as he leans back against the tree, dropping one hand to his lap. They’re close enough that he can shift his leg over to nudge Xie Lian with one knee. It still sends a little thrill through him to be permitted such gestures, doubly so when Xie Lian’s eyes crinkle up with a smile at the touch. Exhaling, Hua Cheng tilts his gaze back up toward the canopy and lets his leg stay barely pressed against Xie Lian’s. It’s more than enough.

[eagesoldartblog]

@nemesis-is-my-middle-name

Congrats you set me off time to RAMBLE about this fucking au Bc I adore it

So small Cw: this is heavily based /inspired by madoka Magica, also demons! Idk, just felt like y’all should know that real quick- also, this has.. a sadder end :,)

So let’s start off!

Lewis pepper died in the cave, but rose soon after. Not because of him wanting to stay, nor wanting revenge. Infact, if he was left alone, he would have maybe returned as a ghost or simply passed on. But no, he’s awoken a few days later by a red spirit that resembles a cat, with hearts and a blank smile. Their name is Dellila! It explains that as Lewis died, he made a wish- to live again, to survive. So they granted it!

But, everything is at a cost, and Lewis is aware of this, he’s terrified at the thought because he can’t remember his wish. But Dellila reassures him, and explains the process of wish making.

Because of his wish, he was granted magical powers, and he now has one task to fulfill in order to have his wish fully granted. In order for his life to be returned to him, and be allowed to walk to earth as a human again, he must make use of his new power...

And get revenge.

Lewis is horrified by this, because they explain clearly. He has to confront his killer, take his life in order to regain his. And immediately, Lewis makes a plan that he keeps to himself. He doesn’t want revenge, if he can, he wants to find Arthur and learn why. Surely there’s a reason..! It must have been an accident! ... Arthur wasnt lying this whole time... was he?

Dellila doesn’t give him time to think about it, instead, they make him get up and explain why they grant these wishes. While yes- it is to fulfill a certain wish- the world is full of evil spirits and malicious specters that harm humans and spread evil. Lewis’s job for now, is to deal with any spirit that comes close, and obliterate them.

They help him transform for the first time, and show him how he can utilize his abilities to their full extent. How to summon weapons, how to create a pocket dimension around him (referred to as a  labyrinth and FULL of symbolism just wait), and how to transform into his magical form. Lewis goes through with it-

And he discovers very quickly how painful it is. Having strands of gold silk wrap around his limbs and burst into roses and gold flecks. His hair begins to resemble a rose, he takes on a uniform that is beautiful and elegant. And Lewis can’t stop himself from crying while doing so. It hurts. It feels wrong. But it doesn’t stop, and he forms his first labrynth. It’s an oddly shamed dome of stained glass, filled and layered with rose bushes, piano keys, violin strings. Giant knives and spikes and pillars that you would find in a temple rather than in this surreal place. To make it all the more creepy, the dome itself seems to resemble a rib cage, with stage curtains draping from it, and in the very center? A golden chandelier that one could only assume is the heart.

Last but not least, Dellila helps him form his special anchor. Something that contains his soul, a link to keep him grounded and help him control his powers. Under no circumstances should it be destroyed, nor should any spirit touch it- lest the damage it takes on will be inflicted on him.

He gets used to it though, and he sets off on dealing with any spirit he comes across- fighting against the empathy he feels because he doesn’t believe that the spirits are truly evil. Most of them run from him, and the few who do fight only do so when he provoked them. But time and time again, Lewis attacks, he fights, he wins...

And Dellila eats the remnants of those spirits. Encouraging him to keep going. He’s cleansing the world with every fight.

They wouldn’t lie to you, Lewis, remember that.

But on the other hand, some others are noticing what’s happening. Mystery and Vivi - Vivi who is herself a powerful yokai, made of ice- recognize the labrynth, they see the magical spirit fighting, and they know what’s happened. The demon of the cave captured another.

Because you see- there wasn’t just one demon in the cave they explored, the two knew this, and the wanted Arthur and Lewis to stay away and let them handle it. But they were foolish and tagged along anyway.

Now Arthur has no arm, and Lewis is dead. The green demon, who takes the form of fog and crawls onto the recesses of your mind to torment and torture you until you give in. And the red demon, who claims lives by feeding hope to their collective victim.

This isn’t the first time that the two yokai dealt with them, no... Vivi’s old friend was named Dellila, and she knows just how twisted it is for the bastard to take her friends name.

Lewis is in danger, and they have to save him, but they have to do it alone. Arthur can’t come. They tell him. Vivi makes sure he knows.

But Arthur doesn’t want them going on their own, he wants to save Lewis too! :)

Meanwhile, Vivi and Mystery are hunting the labrynth down. It isn’t hard, since Lewis’s attacks are near brutal and dramtic, and it’s easy to infiltrate. Instead of facing Lewis head on though? They try to sneak past him, to find his anchor. To find whats linking him to Dellila.

And Arthur is following behind, getting lost in the labrynth, but pushing through the curtains and bushes and searching for his friends-

And Arthur, the unluckiest man in the world, finds Lewis. At first Lewis doesn’t even notice him, exhausted after battling a wraith, but when Arthur calls out, Lewis is shocked, relieved! And for a moment, Lewis smiles and tries to leap down from the heart of the labrynth to hug his friend-

But before he could even mutter Arthurs name. Something changes. The gold and purples suddenly shift. The rose bushes become thorns, the giant knives sticking high above the ground become spikes- stalagmites! Fire begins to grow, and he’s trapped in the arena. Lewis’s smile is gone. His eyes, a deep, unforgiving red.

Dellila never told him, but Lewis never had a choice in how he would confront his killer.

Arthur gets to watch as the labrynth shifts and turns all on him, as weapons appear in Lewis’s hand, drawn and aimed directly at him-

But before Lewis could try to strike- he’s stopped by the love of his life, and her dog. And a battle breaks out. Lewis exploding with fire and sending out deadbeat minions to wound and harm them, only for Vivi and mystery to deflect the attacks expertly.

Of course, Lewis is still powerful, and he can’t control the anger he feels as he tries to slash into Vivi- who is betraying him-!

Only for a sharp set of teeth to snap down on his anchor- and forcing Lewis to the ground. Mystery didn’t want to, but he has Lewis’s anchor tightly clenched in his jaw, and the resulting wounds cover Lewis entirely until he’s screaming and crying. It’s unbearable.

Meanwhile, Arthur can only watch. Watch as his friends tear themselves apart... watches as frost bites at the golden anchor and Lewis’s body freezes from shock- before his body seems to disintergrate into rose petals, and mystery lets him go. Sorrowful. Vivi and him have yet to noticed Arthur, but they know he’s there. That’s not what’s important right now-! They have to get the anchor with the dormant Lewis and leave-!

But sooner or later, Dellila has to come out. With smiles and hearts and a cheery, happy grin.

And their expression doesn’t change as they snatch the anchor before Vivi or msytery could stop them,

And they smash it. Swallowing the soul that seeps out. Thanking and condemning Arthur aloud for his contributions- his friend is now really gone! And it’s all his fault~

Now the question is, what happens from here?

Because when mystery and Vivi turn to grab Arthur and get out, Arthur has vanished. They don’t know where he is.

They can only fear the worst. And hope that those horrible demons don’t take on a new face

[fancifulwhump]

Hello I am a Slut for some prolonged suffering so if you’re still taking Jaskier whump prompts anything where he’s poisoned or cursed or magically his wound won’t heal or something... I would be indebted to u

AN:   hope you enjoy, darling!  WARNING for kind of gross description of wounds, starting at “by the gods” and lasting through that whole paragraph.

It’s been six weeks since the demidroga attack, and Jaskier is doing fine.

Fine’s a relative term, of course. It could mean a lot of things. Having all your limbs attached is a good start   ---  all the way across the spectrum, from not currently being mugged on the side of the road, to wearing shoes that fit, to lying in bed with a belly full of wine and a delightful body curled against you. Right, that last one may be more than fine  ---  more ideal, really  --- but Jaskier will take it any day.

He’s not quite there at the moment. His level of fine, on the present day, is more like...   it’s nearly sundown, and he’s managed not to bleed through his bandages. For the first time in ages. Which, given the absolute dream his life has been of late, ranks very highly on the spectrum of fineness.

When did his standards get so low?

He pauses in between two songs, bracing himself against the bartop. Ostensibly, it’s to rehydrate. He sets a freshly-emptied mug of ale on the table, flashing the bar maid a wink. If she noticed the way his knuckles go white around the wooden ledge, or the brief wince that passes over his face, she doesn’t mention it. Add that to the tally of fine  ---  and today is proving a better day than any he’s had in the past few weeks.

“Will ye be needin’ another, then?” the maid asks, stealing the mug back. Jaskier nods, exhaling through his teeth. His grin doesn’t waver. Even once she’s turned her back, he keeps the cheerful mask fixed stubbornly in place...  but if his hand moves to press to his side, nursing a long-familiar agony, it’s no one’s business but his own.

New ale. Same pain. Deep breaths.

Jaskier drains half of this fresh drink before tipping his head to the barmaid and turning back to his audience.

“Right! Who’s drunk enough for a verse of The King’s Merry Mistress?”

Entertaining through the night isn’t a challenge; it’s simply what Jaskier does, what he has done since he was young enough to understand what an audience was. Keeping people enraptured, keeping their attention on him...  while only showing what he wants them to see. Keeping them distracted. It’s all an easy song and dance once you’ve memorized the tune, and Jaskier’s had a lifetime to learn it. By the end of the night, he’s earned enough coin to keep him in room and board for    ----   he pauses, counting the coins against the bartop  ---  another week, at least. Excellent. That’s what he was playing for.

“Ye’ve got  ---  hmm.” The barmaid’s unexpected voice jolts him; it’s been a long night, and truth be told, Jaskier’s not looking for any company. He slides the coin back across the bar and into his pouch, glancing up at her quickly...  but her eyes aren’t fixed on him with anything like lust. She’s not taking in his lovely eyes, or his radiant complexion, or his dashing physique  ---

No. She’s staring at his bloody side.

“I think ‘yer bleedin’,” she remarks, and Jaskier’s hands fly to his hip. The pressure does nothing to alleviate the pain  ---  the ache has steadily progressed to a throb, and it’s only been building all night  ---  but dampness takes him aback. His fingertips come away red, and when he looks down, crimson is blossoming against the golden thread of his jerkin.

Damn, damn, damn. This was his last clean shirt.

“Ah  ---  it’s nothing. Bit of a battle wound, really. We bards, with our lives of adventure!” The important thing now is chasing that disturbed look off the barmaid’s face, before she suggests something stupid  ---  like summoning a healer. Jaskier’s best ‘Nilfgaard-may-care’ grin smoothes the lines between her brows. After a moment, she offers him an uneasy nod.

“We’ve some water, if ye’d like, to clean it  ---  or fresh bandages.” She glances at his coin purse, then up the stairs, where he’s already paid for a room tonight. “Dare say ye’ve earned it.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

His wit has seen stronger days, but Jaskier’s not in the mood. The throbbing has reached a fever pitch at this point; he knows from experience that the best thing to do is get to a quiet place, lie down, and ride it out. Alone. By morning, the bleeding will have stopped again, and it will hurt less. For a little while.

He slips off of the stool, and can barely stifle a whimper. Pain explodes through the entire left side of his torso, stealing his breath; for a moment, all he can see is red hot fire, burning him from the inside-out. After so many days of this, you’d think it would get easier to bear, and it does but it doesn’t  ---   gods, oh gods, it hurts  ---

He comes back to himself braced against the bar, bleeding heavily. The barmaid is still watching him with marked trepidation. Somehow, Jaskier manages a smile  ---  more a grimace, like a rabid animal   ---  and pushes back. Once he’s found his feet again, it’s only a matter of making it up the stairs.

The bloody stairs. Each one is like a mountain, and he’s got to scale them all. By the time he reaches the top, his head is pounding in time with his side; his vision blurs a bit at the edges, but he pushes through. Nearly there now. Gods, he can taste the pain, like something sour in his mouth… but he powers on, gripping his side as he goes. One foot in front of the other…  down the hall, past doors closed and half-open, to his familiar own. Almost there. Almost…  there.

The door slams shut behind him, and Jaskier is left alone.

An isolated room does nothing for the pain, but at least it’s a reprieve. No longer does he have to wear a brave face; the mask slips away like smoke on the wind, leaving him bare. Leaning back against the door, he exhales through gritted teeth. The bed is a welcoming light at the end of the tunnel, but making it there is its own battle.

With heavy feet, he starts across the room. Almost immediately, the pain in his side flares up again; he is sent reeling, catching himself on a side table and gripping hard with both hands. After a moment, the room steadies, the fog of agony in his head dispersing yet again. He manages to raise his head, which is a mistake on its own — because there’s a mirror fixed to the wall right there, and the last thing he wants to see right now is his reflection.

The man who greets him looks like a corpse. There’s no better way to put it. He’s been dead for six weeks now, languishing in pain as an open wound bleeds the life right out of him… and the thought that it’s all finally catching up to him leaves Jaskier feeling like he’s been doused in ice water. For a long moment, he can only stare, taking in the sweaty pallor of his skin, the dark shadows under his eyes. Gods, did he look this awful while performing? Half of those coins must be sympathy money.

There, on his side — the man in the mirror is no better off, red stains blossoming across his jerkin as well. Muttering something choice, Jaskier presses a hand to the wound. It doesn’t do much for the pain, but maybe the bleeding… with this hope in mind, he pushes away from the mirror, and stumbles the last few steps to the bed. 

After that, it’s familiar routine. He’s gotten good at this by now, honing the art of wound management like a new song he’s determined to learn. Off comes the jerkin first, with the hope of being salvaged. No such luck for his undershirt, which looks like a blasted murder scene  — and he’d been doing so well today, too! Instead it’s another shirt ruined, cast across the room with a hiss of disgust.

Bare-chested, Jaskier is left with nothing but his bandages. He handles them carefully, like a freshly carved instrument; careful fingers unwind the stained bindings with as much tenderness as new lute strings. By the last few layers, the pain has grown too intense to bear in silence. His labored breathing breaks off into the occasional whimper. They catch in his throat, as though ashamed of themselves, but Jaskier can’t bloody help it. He’s borne the pain this long without complaint — all night — and his body is as unhappy with him as his nerves are exhausted.

The last layer comes off, and the wound is laid bare. Somehow, it looks worse.

“By the gods,” he hisses, drawing back in alarm. As if the bleeding weren’t enough! A sick smell emanates from the long, deep gouge mark in his side. It still looks as raw, as gruesome, as it has for weeks now; the edges of the gash have begun to pucker, the skin around it turning dark and grey... as though it’s already started to decay. If Jaskier touched it, he wouldn’t be surprised if it crumbled at the pressure. Instead, he can’t restrain a shiver, turning his head away. It’s one thing to be squeamish about other people’s wounds, but when it’s your own body…

That’s half the reason he hadn’t told Geralt when it happened. It felt like such a little thing then, hardly bleeding, and Jaskier didn’t want the fuss… more importantly, he didn’t want to look at it for too long. So he’d settled for a bandage, and left the wound to heal on its own.

That was the idea, at least.

It’s not healing. If the last few weeks of hell have proved anything, it’s that the wound is only getting worse. Either demidroga claws have a very peculiar element that Geralt neglected to inform him of, or… or Jaskier is the unluckiest fellow in the world.

“Oooh-kay. Okay. Okay.” He mutters to the wound in a high-pitched voice, as though trying to soothe it. Let it breathe, a voice in his head that sounds curiously like his old nursemaid urges. Jaskier doesn’t have a choice at the moment — until the barmaid comes up with fresh bandages.

So it’s a waiting game, really. Waiting for what? The day the wound miraculously heals on its own. The day he finally stumbles upon a healer who’s seen something like this before, and knows how to treat it? The day Geralt crosses his path again — because surely, of all people, Geralt will know how to fix this?

Hesitantly, his eyes flicker back to the wound again; as another pulse of pain ripples through him, he hisses and looks away.

At this point, Jaskier isn’t really sure what he’s waiting on… but he’s so tired of being in pain.

[corinthbayrpg]

"Dark veil’d Leto, much invoked queen, twin-bearing Goddess, of a noble mien; hear me, O Goddess, with propitious mind, and end these holy rites, with aspect kind.”

Anastasia lost the love of her life. Katerina, the departed Alpha of the Argos Pack was cruelly murdered by Hektor in the caves below the now-ruined Delphi Hotel. In her grief, she turned to her magic, how could she protect the ones she loved most? How could she save her precious Coven from suffering as she now suffered? The only children she would ever know. The former Oracle called upon the powers of Divination once more and beseeched Hecate for the answer to her query, for once, the Goddess replied: Apaturia. 

It would not be enough to call on the Goddess herself, the Coven would need to use the power of the festival to their advantage, and to call on Leto, patron Goddess of Motherhood, the Titan whose prayers went answered.

On the second night of Apaturia, Anastasia assembled the Delphi Coven within the Temple of Apollo and led them through the ritual that was intended to make offering to the Titan in an effort to gain Leto’s favour; unaware, that under cover of darkness, they were followed. 

Dionysus also wished to have a hand in the witches’ ritual, for the first time since he had summoned his kobaloi to Corinth, he gave them another directive: trick the witches, spill innocent blood. The pair of kobaloi wove their illusions over the witches as they cast their spell, too consumed by her magic, Anastasia did not notice the presence of the stealthy intruders until it was too late.

While she had intended for her coven to make humble offerings indicative of the harvest season, instead the blood of an innocent, Phoibe, spilled onto their alter and with Leto and Hecate’s gaze drawn upon them, instead of their favour, the Delphi instead earned their ire. 

Too late or too indifferent to interfere, the reapers of Corinth arrived just in time to shepherd the lost soul from this world and to the next. They parted with the coin that would allow the innocent to pass over the river Styx and be taken to Elysium. 

The day had officially passed from the twelfth to the thirteenth, and the Goddesses together reached across the veil and used their power to weave a curse across the auspicious day. Tuesday the thirteenth had long been the unluckiest day in the Grecian calendar, and that misfortune would only fester and spread. Each member of the coven was cursed with Mati, an evil eye. But that was not enough, any phoenix who had imparted their luck on another soul would have that luck reversed, and the person who had received the phoenix’s blessing over the last year would also receive the evil eye.

Typically annoyed by his brother’s interference, Ares, too, decided to enter the fray. For so long as the Mati was in effect, his sphinxes would have the answer on how to reverse it, but, this boon did not come without a catch. The sphinxes riddle still needed to be answered, but the answers had turned nonsensical, meaning, there was no true answer, and while the sphinxes of Corinth were at their own discretion on whom they should help, they alone hold the secret on how to lift the Mati.

ooc info/effects: All species. except for rifts, who have come into contact with a phoenix will receive the evil eye, the luck that they were given will be reversed tenfold. This can manifest in vastly different ways - physical illness, psychologically unwell, or an inability to control or use their magic properly. 

Souls are being drawn to the torn veil from all over the world, species that are able to see magic will be able to see the lost souls that are unable to cross over.

Phoenixes: Anyone they come into physical contact with will be given the evil eye. They will be unable to heal anyone as a result without inadvertently causing them great misfortune.

Sphinx: The only species who know how to reverse the evil eye.

Reapers: Were automatically given the evil eye for their involvement and are unable to bring souls to the Underworld. Souls of the dead/spirits will flock to them with nowhere to go.

Kobaloi: Were automatically given the evil eye for their involvement.

Cubi: The evil eye will cause them to lose their ‘natural charm,’ and make them less alluring to others.

[alias-sam]

Pierced by a Golden Soul

Chapter 29. Welcome to the Jungle

Platonic Jojo's x Reader

Summary: Fate is a bizarre concept with countless more bizarre implications. In life sometimes such extraordinary events happen that the only reasoning left must be fate. The tragedies that constantly befall the Joestar bloodline for example may be the unluckiest series of cards drawn in human history, or perhaps the work of a greater power. There is no way to tell for sure. Had Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar moved slightly on a divergent path the world itself would be left very different. The fate or luck of the noble Joestar bloodline has led to destruction of evil likes of the Pillar Men and DIO. This story is of a similar caliber to that of the other Joestars (as I am sure you are familiar with them). This is a story of lost souls, compassion, hope, and above all fate.

Word Count: 1,945

(Crosspost from Wattpad, full fic is already posted there.)

*Warning* I do not remember what crack I was on when I wrote this chapter, I think I was battling Covid at the time. This is based on a nightmarish fever dream I had while I felt like I was dying. It gets...messy. Reader digression is advised.

"I don't have a good feeling about sticking around here." You muttered. "Any idea where it's coming from?"

"Give me a second." Tim whispered. Radio Star appeared, using its wires to feel around the ground. The stand stuck a few of its cords into the dirt before Tim pointed in the direction you had previously been traveling. "There are a lot of sound waves and vibrations around, but the closest-one is right over there." Your friend looked over his shoulder at you, as if waiting for your input.

"How far?" You asked summoning Golden Soul.

"Just a few yards." Tim responded. You looked in the direction Tim was pointing. There was a clump of souls situated on the ground not too far away. Maggots. They were small and compacted together, making it hard to tell how many there were.

"It's nothing." You sighed, checking the surrounding area for anything else suspicious. "We're in a wild area. There's probably an animal carcass." After confirming there were no stand users in sight, you put away Golden Soul.

"I don't know how much more walking I can take." Tim groaned, following as you continued like you had been earlier. The two of you once again found yourselves walking in a comfortable silence. It was criminally short lived. The noise from before quickly got louder and clearer. When you finally happened upon the source, you both stopped in your tracks.

"Tim...please tell me you're seeing this too." You murmured, glancing over to see your friend's sickened expression.

"I wish I couldn't." He gagged and looked away. "That's disgusting."

Just as you had sensed, there was a writhing mass of maggots ravaging what was once an animal. It was a nauseating sight to say the least, made up more of the squirming creatures than carcass. The stark white of the larva glaringly contrasted with the browns and greens of the forest scenery. They were rather loud, making a raw sloshing noise whenever the mass shifted or twitched in a particular direction.

"This doesn't seem exactly natural." You observed, noticing the larva's rather large individual size. Some were around the length of your pointer finger.

"I'd be inclined to say the opposite." Tim replied, still averting his gaze from the scene. "Common houseflies and blowflies lay eggs on animals and when those eggs hatch, they consume whatever is around them. The life cycle of a fly from egg to maggot to fly takes from two to three weeks. This is incredibly natural."

"Alright oxford dictionary of smartass." You deadpanned. "I was just saying there are a lot more here than one would expect." You took a jerkish step back as the clump of maggots tipped over and spilled all across the ground. The visceral sight of the animal's unveiled corpse finally being enough to make you look away. It was solely the head of what you could only assume was maybe at one point a dog? With how much of it the maggots had devoured, it was hard to tell. Many of the creatures were pouring from the eye sockets and wriggling between the mangled remains of the dog's agape jaw.

"Why are we sticking around here?!" Tim shivered, already walking away. "Lets go."

"Good point." You took one last hesitant glance back at the carcass. This felt like a bad omen of some kind. Yes, the scene was horrific and nauseating, but there was something about it that was just downright ominous. A small part of you was curious what brought on the unlucky turn of nature, but another part of you, the more rational part, decided it was better left uninvestigated. Tim's stride became noticeably quicker as you went. You tried following behind him, but the encumbrance of the guitar was finally starting to effect your pace. Eventually you stopped for a moment to rest. "Hey Tim!" You called. "If you have your second wind, why don't you take this thing from me?" When you looked up, you were met with a silent, empty surrounding. "Tim?" You called again, looking around wildly. He couldn't have gotten that far ahead of you in just a few seconds, right? "Tim!" You yelled, hearing your voice echo through the trees. The forest was eerily silent as you waited for any form of response. You took a few steps before you heard your foot land on something metallic. Moving your shoe aside, you found a shiny dog tag laying on the ground. You carefully picked up the metal to find the name Spot lovingly engraved into it. Your thumb carefully traced the name before a familiar squelch reached your ears. Your eyes widened slightly as you turned to face the source of the sound. You took a few steps in that direction, clearing away shrubs as you went. A few meters away, you found the rest of the dog. It was just like before. The headless body was covered in a writhing, shifting mountain of maggots. The wet noise of their synchronous movement was supernaturally loud.

Leading away from the cadaver, you noticed a cable, one that belonged to Radio Star. The stand was making the sound louder so you would hear it from a greater distance. Your gaze slowly followed the cord. There on the ground, Tim was splayed across the ground with a few of the little monsters crawling up his arms and legs. He looked incredibly tired, to the point he was struggling to keep his eyes open. As you apprehensively took a step towards him, Tim's head suddenly jerked to the side and gave a closed mouth groan. You felt like time stopped as you watched maggots wriggle out from his mouth and fall to the ground. Tim's eyes widened as he made a muffled and pained noise. You felt something crawling up your hand.

"Oh good god!" You yelled, reeling in shock as you shook the disgusting creatures from your hand. They were moving unbelievably fast, even as you tried swatting them off. You looked on in disbelief as the mass of maggots from the dog's corpse started quickly migrating in your direction. Almost like they were magnets, they shot from the ground towards you. Tim gave a muffled scream as you were ambushed by a multitude of white wriggling larva. You speedily pulled out your stand, using it to block them. "What the hell is going on here!?" For a split second, the maggots gave off an unnatural orange glow.

Tim sluggishly managed to prop himself against a tree, Radio Star quickly wrapping around his arms and legs. He hacked out more maggots before activating his ability. You watched as Tim effectively tased himself with his own stand. His body convulsed for a moment before the grubs started shriveling up and falling away. Tim weakly coughed up the few that were still in his mouth.

"Y/n!" He gasped. "Watch out! They can feed from your stand!"

"Huh?" You looked down to find the little abominations were attaching themselves to Golden Soul. "Son of a-"You hit your stand's arm against a nearby tree, effectively squashing the bugs. The maggots you had knocked off slowly crawled away. Given they were spread out on the ground, it was easy for you to avoid them. You quickly made your way over to help Tim to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"I'm-"He choked and spit out another larvae. "Scarred for life." He muttered in disgust watching as the maggot wriggled towards the dog's corpse. "And feel like I got hit by a bus."

You and Tim didn't need to exchange another word before you both bolted in the other direction away from the maggots. Whatever was happening here in the forest was sinister, you could both feel it. Tim seemed to have finally found his second wind because the two of you managed to run completely out of the woods and into town.

As soon as your sneakers made contact with concrete you and Tim came to a screeching halt. The two of you were left heaving and gasping for air while praying the maggots didn't follow. The path from the forest spit you out in a residential area close to the beach. You could hear waves crashing close by. Sweat cascaded down your face as the late afternoon sun was now unblocked by trees.

"What the heck just happened?" You asked while making absolute sure there weren't any maggots on your person. Was this the work of Quiet Riot? The stand had a somewhat long range, but Blaze was way too far away to 'attach' it to you or Tim. Besides, you and Tim had both seen and heard the same things. As far as you were aware, Blaze's stand could only effect one person at a time, if not, he probably would have set it on Jaya when she attacked him at the hospital.

"I don't really know." Tim looked at you gravely. "One moment I was walking, the next I was too tired to stand, and the next I was on the ground, barely able to stay awake. Those freaky things are fast."

"For a moment they...they kind of looked like a stand." You mentioned, thinking back to how they had sprung away from the ground, as well as the glow they emitted for a brief second. They even managed to stick to your stand. Looking down, you found your arms were littered with small circular wounds. Tim had similar markings on his arms, legs, and face.

"Really?" Tim took a cautious look back at the edge of forest. "Why would someone attack us like that?"

"I don't know." You sighed, noticing a few of the larvae were migrating out of the forest in your direction. "The user is nowhere around here though, that's for sure." You had been searching around using Golden Soul. "I haven't seen anything like this before." The maggots made it to the concrete and gave off the orange glow like before. You quickly shifted Tim's guitar into your hands. "Plug me in!" You said quickly. Radio Star manifested on your shoulder, allowing you to stun the creatures with a sound wave just before they could get far beyond the tree line.

"T-they're still coming?!"

"No time to gawk." You muttered, watching as the stunning strike had little effect. The maggots were starting to shoot towards you again. "Go!"

"R-right!" Tim nodded, looking around briefly. "Where?" Currently, you were boxed inside a maze of suburban homes. You sighed and grabbed Tim's arm to drag him once again behind you down the nearest street, once again hearing water. It gave you an idea.

"Listen, I want you to use your stand to get us to the beach."

"But-"

"It doesn't matter how!" You snapped. "Sense the sound of the waves, do whatever! Just get us to the beach!" The boy timidly nodded, letting Radio Star point you in the direction of the water. The sound of crashing waves progressively grew louder and louder until you finally reached sand. Tim reluctantly followed as you ran up onto one of the docks.

"Okay." He wheezed as you reached the end of the dock. "What the hell is your genius plan?"

"I'm going to apologize in advance for this..." You replied as you carefully watched the maggots get closer.

"Huh-?" Tim didn't have any time to respond as you quickly pushed him from the dock and into the water below. Just as a few of the maggots were able to reach you, you dove in as well. 

[dunadaze]

Prophet

(Fantasy AU for the @stringsoftime contest, where Izuku is a prophet/seer)

“The pieces of the puzzle are visible, but not the grand design. Images flicker and dance like memories, hinting at events to come. They scatter the moment I reach for them only to re-form to taunt me. I who never truly possessed them, nor may I ever.”

― Mara Amberly

His eyes, green and as deep as evergreen forests, see through life and death, and everything in between. His dreams full of memories that were not his own, full of unborn heroes, full of dawns of distant futures. His blood golden as the sun, as golden as statues of gods erected in temples, rarely spilled, yet seeing so much war. 

Izuku Midoriya was born a prophet. 

As the day of his tenth winter faded to night his dreams were filled with the future. Behind closed eyes he saw the rise and fall of empires and peril growing on the horizon. He saw children born to do great deeds, and children born to equally bad things. His life was never his own𑁋 no, Izuku’s life belonged to the people. 

“When will the rain come?”

“Will my son be called to fight?”

“Is the sickness going to take me?”

The people needed him, needed answers to the questions that plagued their minds. Izuku could always answer, could always go to sleep and wake up with a head full of visions. 

“The rain will come soon, in less than a day.”

“Your son will fight whether he is called or not.”

“You will not die by the disease’s hand.” 

His life belonged to the people who needed him. To his mother he supported with his work. To the King who spirited him away to predict the future of the kingdom.

And as he watches knights and nicely dressed nobles pass by his window in the castle, Izuku only wishes that he had been born giftless. Wishes he had been born for himself.

(Scenes separated by images)

He predicts the prince’s betrayal a day before it happens. 

Blue fire turns cities to ash in his dream, smoke chokes out all life and a scarred man sits on a throne of embers. It’s because of his vision that Touya is locked away, hidden from sight and left to rot. The king praises Izuku for bringing salvation, but there’s a weight on Izuku’s shoulders that wasn’t there before. 

He hadn’t ever seen the outcome of any of his prophecies, only told them and heard news of them happening afterwards. He’d never seen the children he proclaimed heroes, never seen the wars in person, but Touya he knew. Touya he’d grown up beside. 

Izuku doesn’t like his prophecies after that. 

The third born prince will claim the throne. 

Izuku whispers it to that boy, the prince with the scarred face and mismatched hair. He’s never spoken to Prince Shouto before that, and it’s a bit awkward that his first sentence to the other boy was, “You will be better than your father.” 

But, Shouto smiles at that. It’s the first time in a while the boy smiles, he’d had a blank face since his brother was taken away, but Izuku’s words make his eyes fill with ambition and teeth bare in a snarl of a smile. 

They stick together after that. Izuku tells Shouto how to harness his powers and how to grow, and Shouto uses his influence to take the prophet outside the castle walls. An unlikely friendship, surely, but one that does not weather with time. 

A man haunts Izuku’s dreams. The prophet is sure he’s never met the man, yet he feels familiar somehow. It’s not exactly a prophecy, instead it’s like memories from a life he hasn’t lived. The man fills his dreams with dragon fire and raw emotion. Izuku wakes every morning tired, as though he had been awake the entire night. 

He’s never wanted to meet someone more than this stranger. Not the people he has visions about or the heroes he wants to be. No, he wants to meet the man who puts a sword in his hand and fights beside him. 

It’s an odd occurrence, the dreams with this draconic stranger, as though it is not a dream at all and instead an actual experience. Izuku can feel the heat of the stranger standing next to him, feel the weight of the sword in his hand. He can taste the salt of sweat as it runs down his cheeks and catches on his lips. He can see an endless horizon stretch out in front of him, hear the cries of gulls above him and the song of the wind. 

For now, Izuku will wait. He will wait for his dreams to turn to visions. He will wait for the stranger to find him. 

A dragon lands at the back of his mind. 

Izuku wakes in an instant, throwing the blanket off of himself and racing from his room. The castle is quiet this late at night, the nobles tucked away in fancy beds and only the unluckiest of nights up patrolling. The prophet slips into the courtyard and then the garden, past the hole in the gate that is covered by crawling Ivy. He knew the dragon would appear in the land beyond the town, where open meadows provided space to sprawl out and rest. 

His feet are raw and aching by the time he stumbles into the field. A dragon dozes in the middle of it, wings tucked against its scarlet back and steam rising from its nostrils. He wonders if he’ll die by waking it, wonders if the creature is hungry enough to eat a human. 

“Ah! Hello!” Izuku stands a great deal away from the slumbering beast, close enough to be heard and far enough to not be gobbled up in an instant. “I have a question for you!”

The dragon blinks one large, red eye open. From where he’s standing, Izuku can feel the heat radiate from its scales, and he wonders if his skin would burn by touching it. It opens its mouth and Izuku steps back afraid, but the beast simply yawns. 

“What is it?” The dragon’s voice sounds young, not at all what Izuku was expecting. “I’m kind of tired, gotta sleep before the sun rises. So, if you could make it quick.” The slitted eyes peer at him, and Izuku feels a bit like a bug pinned to a board. 

He stumbles closer, trusting the dragon not to devour him. “Your kind, do you know of someone who has a tattoo of a winged sword?” Izuku tries to remember all the fuzzy details of the stranger in his dreams. “A man, who wields a fierce blade and has hair the color of sunlight?” 

“Ah!” The dragon is suddenly much more awake, “You mean Bakugou! Yeah, I know him! Why? If you’re looking for revenge I gotta warn you to give up, the man hasn’t ever lost a fight an𑁋”

“No! I have no intention of fighting him,” Izuku sighs, relief flooding his veins. So the man he’d been seeing wasn’t just a dream. “I just wanted to know if he was real.” He trails off, mumbling about furred cloaks and necklaces made of bone. 

The dragon gives him a look, one that is almost knowing, and lays its head upon the ground. Izuku only realizes that the creature had fallen asleep after snores as loud as drum-beats start to echo through the meadow. The prophet laughs, turning back towards the castle in the distance. 

He had a long walk ahead of him. 

Tales of the barbaric dragon rider start to reach the castle’s ears. Izuku catches whispers of the young lord who’d taken out whole armies and the great, red dragon he rode upon. The ladies especially love to talk about the appeal of a man who’s an outcast, and Izuku soon finds himself tired of the dreamy sighs that accompany the name Bakugou Katsuki. 

He supposes he’ll have a prophecy about this Bakugou soon, as it sounded like the man was encroaching on Kingdom territory. It’s odd, though, he knows he should be fearful of this supposed conqueror that was on his way to challenge the king, yet Izuku didn’t find himself anxious. 

This was the man he dreamed about, the man he had fought beside. Izuku wanted nothing more to ride to the edge of the kingdom and personally invite Bakugou for tea. 

Izuku stands on the balcony as dragon fire rains from the sky. 

Shouto is in the courtyard, shards of ice dancing off his fingertips and snow falling from the air around him. The king is beside him, Izuku can feel the heat rise off of the man as he summons a wall of fire. There are other knights, Ochako bringing torrents of pink light down from the sky, Iida wielding a spear like an extension of his own body, Momo and Jirou standing back to back with twin blades. 

He feels useless, unable to fight or summon magic to protect his friends. What he can do is catch brief glimpses of the future, telling Momo to move a second before a dragon thuds down beside her, or commanding Shouto to throw a shard of ice in the spot a fire will break out in. It’s something he’s been training to do, forcing himself to see visions, rather than wait for them to come in dreams. 

What he doesn’t expect is the chief dragon rider to land on the gate that surrounds his balcony. 

“Oi!” Bakugou’s voice is loud, commanding, “You’re seeing my every fuckin’ move. How?” The word how comes out as a growl, like the sound the king’s hunting dogs made when they caught the scent of a fleeing stag. 

The words in Izuku’s throat die as they reach his tongue, up close Bakugou is terrifying. All lithe muscle and sharp edges. The blade in his hand is curled and nasty, gleaming in the dying sunlight. “I𑁋 I can,” His brain is a mess of thoughts, all tangling up in his head and causing his words to come out as jumbled stutters. 

“Hah? The hell you tryin’ to say? Spit it out already.” The king of dragons jumps down from the balcony gate as easily as a cat, his movements fluid and graceful despite his rugged appearance. 

The man is close enough that Izuku can see the fire in his eyes, and at once the thoughts in his mind snap into place and his words fall out in perfect comprehension.

“My name is Izuku Midoriya.” He narrows his eyes. “And I’ve been waiting for you.” 

[devintrinidad]

I know I’ve been popping out CAW aus a lot (been inspired by all the CAW stuff). But here’s one that just came to me and I really like it.

Superhero au.

1146 and the rest of the Squad are superheroes. Their powers are pretty much similar canon abilities: Able to sense and pinpoint evil. Powerful blade attacks they can materialize out of the air (like Final fantasy characters can). Lot’s of superhuman physical power, agility and endurance. They can go unhinged and brutal to make themselves 100x more lethal. 

Their power is tied to their emotions. Sometimes the traits they repress get amplified. 1146 being so emotional and kids swinging means he almost has a completely different personality and even gets surprised by how he acted when he transforms back to normal.

They call themselves… A lot of names actually. None if them can agree on one name. It’s why the public calls the those psychos or berserker freaks (not even in a mean spirited away. They just honestly think that’s their name since no one corrected them. Even their enemies call them that). They call themselves the Squad bit still argue what would be the coolest team name. 

1146 is the only one who doesn’t have a superhero name. He can’t decide or be bothered by it. He only wants to save people not come up with names (nevermind the first few times he tried he got laughed at). 

As a civilian 1146 is a unsociable but good guy. His family owns a famous museum that he works at and is looking forward to inheriting someday as his own. He’s very knowledgable of history and ancient artifacts. A fact that helps him since he became a superhero from one of those artifacts and must keep evil from gathering more. The job is also flexible in allowing him to prioritize his superhero life and his family does know about his and his friends double lives.

Their are certain people in the world that are born possessing some kind of power/life energy that the evil beings they fight love to eat for power or use in other ways to further their world altering plan. Those people in this world are basically the RBCs (you since in canon RBCs are targeted by invaders so it’s the same here). 

Enter 3803 and her friends. They all have successful jobs and doing well. But 3803 is fresh out of college and working multiple jobs to pay off debts. She works as a part time pizza delivery woman and has just landed a job at 1146’s family museum as a Visitor Services Associate. Despite her troubles she brightens up 1146’s day and eventually over the months he comes to regard her as a good friend. After any hard nights of battling evil, her sunny disposition and cheerful smiles and chatter renew his spirit.

Which is a bit alarming because 3803 has the highest amount of RBC energy he’s seen and she’s a constant target. 3803 thinks she’s the unluckiest person alive because she keeps running into all these evil creatures while she delivers pizzas. But she also thinks she has some luck because she keeps walking out of it alive and able to deliver her pizza. What she doesn’t know is that 1146 follows her Every night to protect her. Which means he gets to observe her a lot in the moments she thinks no one is watching. He does come to appreciate her hot blooded determination to not lose her job (she keeps getting lost and if she’s late too much again she’ll be fired. Monsters or no monsters). As a civilian he tries to find ways to give her more money so she’ll quit her pizza delivery and work at just the museum. He doesn’t like how her other job puts her in so much danger from both monsters and your average thug. But 3803 is stubborn and refuses to abandon her job. She wants to become better and earn her money. Plus despite the danger she really does enjoy her pizza delivery job. 

She ends up meeting 1146’s superhero alter ego after he saves her from her closest call yet. Instead of running away or being too afraid, 3803 thanks him. He keeps his distance in fear she’ll some how recognize him but also isn’t too worried. His personality as a superhero is pretty different then his normal one (louder. Less guarded. More happy acting. More goofy. More violent. Goes on very lengthy poetic epic speeches and speaks in a flowery manner). 3803 comments she reads up on him and his friends and thanks him for saving her and everyone. She asks what to call him and when he says nothing. She coins him White Blood because his outfit is completely white and when he summons his blades it initially looks like blood. He instantly adopts the name. In gratitude he impulsively kisses her on the cheek and declares how amazing she is. Right when she processes what happened and she’s about to thank him. His senses go off and he declares in a very poetic and majestic way he must vanquish the insipid beasts that threaten the world he must never stop fighting for.

He kisses her on the mouth and calls her his fair red hot blooded maiden that makes his heart beat before running off to jump buildings.

The next day 1146 does not want to get up. 

He’s so embarrassed and appalled he did and said what he did that he can’t face the world anymore. He knew had had a bit of a attraction to 3803 but he didn’t know it was that bad. He’d never have talked to her as White Blood if he had known (even though she gave him a really cool name). His life is over….

He gets over it when the night calls and he goes on patrol to take his nervous restless energy out on bad guys. 

Of course his luck would have him rescuing 3803. This time he’s prepared and manages to give her a very long winded apology fur his uncouth behavior. But then he ends up giving another speech in the form of a poem about how amazing she us and how much he liked to kiss her and never stop-

She stops him there. She accepts the apology and gives him a even bigger shocker. She evades the common cliche of the love interest not figuring out the Superheroe’s identity as her friend. She points out his voice is kind of similar to 1146 and he’s the same height. 1146 is a very protective person who always offers to accompany her or anyone else in places that he seems dangerous alone. Despite how many times 1146 expressed not liking her night job, he never onced offered to drive her, check up on her or even call her on the phone to make sure she’s okay like he does when she goes to places in the day time that are unfamiliar to her. He’s never in the same place as White Blood. He has 4 friends. White Blood has 4 teammates. Both are protective justice freaks. 1146 has a book of poems and philosophies she accidently found when cleaning his desk and they sound very similar to White Bloods musings. 

And when he kissed her, he got close enough for her to smell his cologne which is the same as 1146’s.

He’s floored but otherwise shrugs it off and accepts the love of his life knows and he goes from chill to excitable over it.

The love is kind of one sided at first. He doesn’t mind. But he is sheepish he can’t help but flirt with her so much as White Blood. 3803 at most gets flustered and blush blush over it. But she rolls with it. 1146 and White Blood are the same person and She finds it fascinating how much she learns about him as White Blood (the poems about his love for her get to be a little much at times. She learns fast to never bring them up to 1146 put of uniform because he will turn redder then het hair and ditch life for a few days) She kind of becomes a bit of a sidekick to White Blood. Retrieving artifacts for him when he needs them and always calling his friends when he needs help. She ends up doing odd jobs all around the museum to make his life easier. 

When she does grow to fall in love with him and asks him to be her boyfriend, she gives him her promise ring her parents gave her to give to the love of her life. He wears it on a chain necklace around his neck next to his artifact so he never loses it or has to ever take it off. 

~~~

AHHHH, that was so adorable! I’m glad that you really gave 3803 some agency and the observational skills that really subverted the cliche. I’m glad that you did that, a lot of authors would have gone with the cliche route (even though it’s a trope that I like a little). It was really adorable and honestly, White Blood reminds me of Basophil... except for the fact that he’s more... loud and happy???

Hahaha! Great job!

This put a smile on my face! Thanks you for all your aus. It was truly a treat and I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D