#the tags above are more or less stray thoughts

[clandestineloki]

Cold Flower (NSFW)

A/N: My public apology for going dormant on Tumblr for nearly 5 months.

tw: jotun!loki dom!loki, sub!cottagegirl!reader, loki’s cock is big but his size kink is bigger, corruption kink, praise kink, manhandling but very cutely if i may say!!, unrealistically fast paced because loki is horny ) >:D

read it on ao3!!

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

The grass tickles your ankles as you step through the bushes, careful not to step on any pretty flowers in your path.

Sunset is nearing, and you've only gotten so much as a few ferns. But you don't mind. The forest will bloom when it wants to, and even if you haven't collected any flowers for your work you're having a wonderful time looking around at all the birds and the deer and the butterflies and nature; just getting away from the busy life in the village is enough of a treat.

Stepping through a clear patch, you look around for any deer traps. What deer traps? The ones that have hidden nets that burst out from the ground like flytraps and scoop up any poor being that just happened to be there, leaving them trapped up in the air by a rope tied to a tree.

Now that you think of it, a clear patch in the middle of the forest means one thing: a deer trap has been set off already.

Right above where you stand.

Realizing the danger of being anywhere near a threatened or harmed deer, you’re ready to bolt out of the woods when you look up, and see a net that’s filled with leaves, branches, and stray grass reeds.

And dangling out of the net is a leg— a leg that looks less like a deer’s… and more of a person’s.

You gasp in horror. Someone’s caught in it!

Running around the tree, you find the rope suspending the trap buried in the ground. You rummage for your shears and hastily cut it, grabbing the rope to pull it down with your weight and let the trap sink to the ground slowly.

When it does, you run over, cutting away as much of the net as you can, digging through the leaves until you reach someone covered in an enormous fur cape.

You gingerly pull it back, and stare in awe.

It’s a man, with dark hair and sharp features, no doubt very handsome despite the scratches and cuts he’s sustained. The linen top he’s wearing is littered with twigs.

Softly, you brush away the twigs when you touch his wrist and freeze.

And quite literally, because his skin is as cold as ice.

Almost as if he were a corpse.

“Sir! Sir! Please wake up!”

When Prince Loki’s eyes open and adjust to the glare of the sun— and the silhouette blocking it out— his breath hitches.

Is this Valhalla? Am I… dead?

Surely, he must be. For above him kneels the most beautiful girl, almost shimmering in the golden light, it’s definite that you’re an angel.

“Hello? Sir? Can you hear me?”

An even lovelier voice for a radiant woman. He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness!” You lean forward, brushing away twigs from his face and cloak. “I thought you had died! I hate those deer traps, they’re dangerous and they're so hard to see! It almost killed you! Are you alright?”

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

It’s as if he spoke without thinking, eager to hear more from your pretty lips. You catch your breath, kneeling back down, and he sits up to get a better look at the captivating face of his savior.

“How long have you been up there?”

Loki brushes his hand against his cheek. “I'm not quite sure- ah-”

He hisses when his fingers graze a wound on his temple, and he retracts his hand to find a few specks of scarlet.

“Probably not long, I'm still bleeding,” he shows you his hand, and you gasp.

“Oh, no,” you take a closer look at his face. “My house isn't far from here, I can help you clean up and get some rest. You must be exhausted. Are you alright with some porridge and biscuits? They're all I have the ingredients for and the farmers’ market is a bit far so I'm sorry if...”

Loki honestly can’t concentrate on what you're saying. He nods along, but he's rather focused on you.

As he tags along behind you as you retrace your steps to your home, Loki whispers a thanks to whatever Gods led him to be graced by your beauty in this moment, regardless of the circumstance. He had just been hunting for sport, unaware of the trap that had pulled him up into the tree so suddenly and rendered him unconscious.

Now, he's found something— no, someone— better; a much more rewarding, delicious little prey.

“I just realized I haven't introduced myself."

Loki looks up just as you say your name, timidly holding out your hand. He takes it after a moment.

“Loki,” he replies, once he finds it in himself to speak.

“Like the prince?"

He recoils a bit in surprise. “Yes- Yes, like the prince. Uh-"

“How are you feeling?" you ask, dabbing the cloth lightly against his wrist.

“They don't hurt if I don't move."

“Okay. Let me know if it does.”

Loki nods, watching you silently tend to his wounds, before he hisses softly.

You flinch, pulling away. “Oh, I'm sorry-"

“You really don't know who I am?” Loki asks.

A second passes as you look down at him, brows furrowing as you sit down next to him on your bed.

“I can't recall. Sorry, have you ordered flowers from me before?"

“You run a flower shop?”

“Yes, that's why I was in the woods. I was looking for fresh flowers and came across you up in that trap.” You tilt your head. “What were you doing in the forest, anyway?"

“I was... hunting for deer, and the last thing I remember is hearing something above me snap.”

“Hunting… Is that what you do for a living?”

“Well, no. My brother and I do it for sport."

“Oh."

Loki stares at you blankly. “My brother, Prince Thor."

You nod.

Loki chuckles. Your pretty little head hasn't registered it.

He leans in close, brushing his lips against your ear, and whispers very slowly:

“I'm Prince Loki."

And the reaction he gets is the cutest. Your lips part as your eyes widen, to which he grins.

But he doesn't expect you to fling yourself off the side of the bed and onto the ground, bowing down to him.

“Your Highness!” you squeak. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know!! I-”

“Darling, please," he chuckles, shaking his head. “That isn't necessary-"

“I'm so sorry, I'll get some tea, do you want anything from the market? Please, allow me-”

Loki bends down, lifting you off the floor in a princess carry and sets you down on the bed.

“Please, don’t stress yourself. You saved my life.”

He takes your hand, kissing it softly as he smiles up at you.

“Thank you, pretty angel.”

Your eyes widen as you stutter out tiny breaths. Norns, aren’t you the most adorable?

“I don’t think you believe me.” He stands up, pretending to be offended by your silence.

“No!” you cry . “I mean- I do believe you! It’s just- I was surprised, I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think what? A prince would just be out in the woods for no reason?” He laughs, leaning down to you. Before you can respond, he chuckles again. “That’s alright,” he steps back, “you just need a little… evidence.”

Loki closes his eyes, and lets himself shift into his true form: blue skin, dark green patterns across his biceps. He hears the tiniest gasp of amazement from you as the magic also heals his wounds and cuts (and hopes that he’ll hear more of those cute noises very soon).

When he’s done transforming, he opens his eyes and stares down at you.

Dear Norns.

He knew he was already taller than you in human form, but this was just delightful. You’re much tinier than him, staring up at his stature with those wide doe eyes of yours.

“You are-” you blink a few times in shock. “You are the Jotun prince.”

He smiles even wider. “That’s right.”

“And… I… just saved the Jotun prince.”

He starts laughing, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Clever girl.” He knows he’s downright cruel, teasing you just because you’re so cute. “And do you want anything in return for ‘saving the Jotun prince’?”

“Well, I don’t know-”

Loki walks closer to you, and stands between your legs as he drops his cloak to the floor and leans down, drawling his next words very slowly.

“You deserve something… special. Something downright… pleasurable as a reward for saving my life. Something that you’ll remember for the rest of yours.”

He chuckles darkly when your breath hitches in realization.

He wants to make love to you.

“What?”

He pushes you down on the bed, trapping you in with his large body as he takes your wrists in one of his hands.

“You’ll feel undeniable bliss. I’ll take you over and over and over again until I’m sure you’re truly satisfied, because you’re such a sweet little angel saving my life and cleaning me up and looking so fuckable.”

You mewl, no doubt keening from his dirty words. He cups your chin.

“All you have to do is say yes. You don’t even have to do anything~”

His thumb brushes over your quivering lips, and push into your mouth. Loki grins as you look up at him, nodding slowly.

“Use your words, angel,” he teases, pulling his thumb away from your mouth.

It takes you a few moments to catch your breath. “Okay…”

He wanted to make you beg. He wanted you to say please, please fuck me so he could flip you over like you weighed nothing and take you over and over again like you’d asked but the way you whimpered withered away the last of his patience.

He had to make you his.

Loki captured you into a passionate kiss, muffling every last sound your pretty lips made so that only he could hear. He pulled away only to push you down on the sheets again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you twitch in his hold, unable to comprehend how dizzy you are from just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for air as his dark green irises watches your eyes glaze over with submission. He grins, unbuttoning his white button-up and tosses it elsewhere.

He grins as you stare at his chest. Your tiny hands reach for him, tracing over the markings and patterns.

Loki hisses, taking your hands in one of his. You whimper as he stares down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Did that hurt?”

“No, no.” His voice softens as he leans in, kissing your nose gently, his other hand pushing your dress up your thighs. He kisses your cheek, then presses his lips against your ear. You shiver at his ice-cold breath.

“It doesn’t, angel. It’s just that if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to resist flipping you over and pounding you into the sheets until you’re dripping with my cum and you can’t think.”

He pushes his knee against your crotch, making you squeak like a pathetic little mouse. Loki grins.

“I will be doing that, mind you,” he teases. “But I simply have to get a taste of your pretty juices first~”

Your skirt bunches up against your twitching hips as Loki stares down at your dripping cunt.

“Oh," Loki chuckles. “You're already wet for me, angel, isn't that adorable~?"

You mewl, bashfully covering your face as he grins at your embarrassment.

“Stop teasing..."

Loki shakes his head, pouting in mockery. “Only if you stop being so cute when you're flustered. But until then…”

He places his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he lowers his face to your mound.

“... I'll enjoy fucking you until you submit to me.”

Your eyes widen as he licks your folds very slowly, and you whine shakily.

“Prince Loki..."

Loki grins, kissing your pretty cunt wetly and pushing his tongue into your dripping hole. And your helpless whimper of pleasure as he devours your pretty pussy whole is the cutest and most captivating noise he's ever heard.

He draws it out of you again, and again, and again, drinking every bit of your slick, even if poor little you are just getting wetter and wetter.

You're panting now, and Loki is equally as short of breath, only ever breaking away from you to watch your pretty face scrunch up so cutely. Loki licks his lips, nibbling on your thighs and making you squeak and tremble in his icy grip.

“You're such an adorable little angel," Loki grumbles. "Makes me want to eat you up like a little mouse, hmm?”

He holds you down firmly as your moans tickle his ears. The way your little hole squeezes around nothing is just so cute, he just has to stuff you full after he makes you come far too many times than you can handle.

“Aww,” Loki chuckles as you whimper breathily, thighs thumping helplessly against the bed. “Little angel can’t take it anymore?”

He brushes a blue finger against your dripping folds, sinking into your hole for the millionth time making you squeak and sob in sensitivity.

“P-Please…” you mumble, glazed eyes pleading for a moment of rest.

He sighs, forgetting you’re just a pure little thing having her first time, and gently scoops you into his arms to press a few kisses to your cheek and whispering your name.

“Have I thanked you enough already~?” He teases, and you nod, nuzzling into his hold though you shiver lightly.

Loki’s heart skips a beat. He feels you cling to him tighter and he feels your little ass grinding against his cock.

“Well,” he muses, “I believe my kingdom will be overjoyed to find that an angel like yourself saved their prince, hmm?”

“Huh?” you ask, still pleasure-drunk as you settle into his lap, as if you perfectly fit in his hold.

“I said,” Loki chuckles his icy breath tickling your face, “My kingdom would be overjoyed to find a pretty thing like you saved the royal prince, wouldn't they?"

“Mhm..."

“And they'll throw a week-long celebration...” he continues, trailing kisses from your cheek to your shoulder. “All for you~”

“R-Really?” you gasp as he begins sucking on your skin, sure to leave marks after. “A whole week? That's too much-!”

Loki laughs against your shoulder, holding your hips down so he can feel your hips grind against his cock. “Nothing is too much for a perfect little angel like you~"

Loki licks the bite mark he's so carefully placed on your skin, then looks up at your glazed eyes and twitching pout.

“Would you like to come back with me to the palace?"

The look of confusion and bashfulness across your face makes his cock twitch against your bare folds.

“Me?! With you?!"

“Do you abhor the idea of that?”

He knows he's being mean and he knows you don't hate the idea, but Loki just can't resist seeing you so embarrassed and stuttering to apologize.

“No! I didn't mean that! I was just surprised-"

Loki shakes his head with a little chuckle, and brings you closer to his face to kiss the crease between your eyebrows.

“I know, I know. I was just teasing."

“Don't be mean like that!”

Loki laughs darkly when you cross your arms.

In a flash, he’s got you on your hands and knees before your pretty head can even figure out what’s going on.

“And if I do, what are you going to do about it?”

You shiver at the dark growl in his voice.

You're so far deep in this haze all you can see is blue.

“Your highness-!”

Loki presses your chest against the bed, leaving your pretty ass on display, purely his for the taking.

“You’re just a little mouse that can’t hurt anything, hmm? Just so innocent, and weak, and ready to be ravished.”

A cold, thick finger traces your wet folds, and you whimper, burying your face in the sheets as he tickles your hole until you’re shaking with need.

“Maybe I’ll take you back home with me… and make you my wife.”

Loki shoves his finger all the way in, knocking the wind out of you because you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

“Your- Your wife?” You ask, voice higher and breathier.

“Yes~” he mocks your airy voice. “My pretty wife, who won’t have to get her pretty hands dirty ever again, who I’ll take care of, and protect, and fuck every single night.”

Loki curls his finger, reaching that sensitive little part in your cunt that effectively leaves you a mumbling, drooling mess on him.

When he’s gotten you wet enough, he draws his finger back (to his cute little angel’s momentary dismay) and forces your thighs apart with his body, the head of his cock twitching against your folds.

Loki will forever remember the gasp you let out when you feel just how big he is.

“Do you want to be fully mine? Do you want me to fuck this little hole of yours with my cock until you’re screaming for me?”

You whine at his dirty words, slurring something that sounds like a yeah, and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“Really?” he chuckles, fingering your little hole one more time to slicken your folds. “Do you think I’ll fit~?”

And with the dirty wet noises that tickle his ears as he sinks all the way in he gets his reply.

“Oh?” Amused, he runs an icy finger up and down your bare back. “She can take it, after all. What a good girl~”

Loki barely gets the praise out before the prettiest whimpers fall out of your mouth like sweet honey, your poor cunt clenching down on him as your voice gets higher and breathier by the minute.

“Please-” you hiccup, turning to look at him with those pretty teary eyes.

His vermillion eyes stare you down cruelly as he grinds his hips down into your ass, making your head fall onto the sheets as you slur out a moan.

His cock feels so heavy inside you and by the way he laughs quietly you know he knows just how big he is compared to you.

And the way he pins you down harder lets you know he loves it.

“Oh, you just feel so good around my cock,” Loki groans, pulling back and thrusting into your leaking little pussy.

Poor you, already sensitive beyond imagination as this handsome blue prince ruins any other man for you with the way his cock stretches you out better than anyone ever will.

Not that anyone else will get the chance to. Loki’s decided it: he will take you home to the palace and make you his wife, and everyone will bow before their new princess.

Loki can't resist you any longer. He beats your poor cunt like the beast he is until you're whimpering and bucking against him helplessly.

“Feels... weird..." you shudder and gasp, tears leaking from your eyes as he sinks deeper into you, his huge cock hitting all the good spots inside you as your pleasure takes over your senses.

“Oh, is she close? Is this perfect little cunt going to come all over me?”

Loki's dirty words make you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Yeah," you sob.

Loki laughs at how blissed out his little saviour is and stops,pulling out slowly and groaning when he hears the sinful squelching as your juices drip onto the sheets. He turns you on your back, pinning your wrists to your sides, and captures your lips in his as he sinks into you once more.

“I missed these pretty lips," he smirks into the kiss, taking you for himself.

“Y-You just kissed me a few minutes ago..." You sigh dazedly, though you love the attention he's giving you.

“Still can't get enough of you. You're just so sweet~" Loki licks your lips, thrusting harder and making you squeak and link your fingers through his.

“Say my name."

“Loki...”

“Gods," he throws his head back, almost moaning at how submissive you sound. “Surrender to me, darling."

His hands snake down to the back of your thighs, lifting them and pressing them to your chest, quickening his pace.

Your eyes scrunch up as you nearly scream in pleasure, wriggling away as if you could escape from him.

“Surrender to me, angel~" he grins, kissing your neck and marking you up. “A pretty angel like you deserves to be pampered like this every day. Imagine that? You'll never have to lift a finger, I'll do all the work, I'll do all the fucking.”

Loki accentuates that last word with a hard thrust into your hole, making your eyes blur over with tears as you mewl helplessly in the Jotun prince’s tight grip.

“Awh, don't cry," he teases, kissing your nose when he gets a sinfully great idea.

He stops his movements, making sure he's buried all the way inside you before he flattens his tongue against your soaked cheek and licks your tears away.

You gasp, stunned for a moment before you keen and twitch helplessly, whining loudly as he does the same to your other cheek.

And your poor little cunt just clenches down again.

Loki growls, his primal instincts taking over because you're his ideal mate and you're nothing like he's ever seen. The sounds in the room get filthier and filthier as he loses control and rams into your poor hole.

“What do you say, angel?" Loki asks, letting go of your wrist before his hand makes its way down to your clit, rubbing the little bud and making you scream and tremble in his arms. “Be my- fuck- be my bride? Be my pretty little princess?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut.

“Are you close?"

“Mhm..."

“Cute little mouse," he chuckles, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck as he rubs your clit. “Let go for me now, angel."

It’s a sight from heaven as you orgasm all over him, soaking his cock with your juices and helplessly thumping your thighs against the bed because Loki won't stop thrusting in and out of you.

Loki growls, pinning you to the bed. He stills, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm, thick cum filling you up. It makes you feel even more full than you already do and it makes you dizzy with even more pleasure.

It becomes too much for your melting brain to handle when he pushes deeper into you and you gasp, attempting to kick him away.

A firm, cold hand grabs your ankle and spreads you wider, and you whine shyly when he grins at you with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Stay with me, darling," Loki teases, gripping your hips possessively and holding you still on his cock so he can finish filling you up.

It feels like hours before he breathes again, but it's only been seconds for him, already wanting another round with you.

But the prince resists, setting your sore legs down slowly and carefully sliding out of your cunt.

You sigh in exhaustion, but your breaths falters in embarrassment when you feel just how much he pumped into you, dripping out of your twitching folds and onto the bed.

A tiny drop even lands on your ass and Loki chuckles at your wide eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips and whisper a dirty promise that he'll fuck you down there too next time.

“Next time?” you ask, lips parting.

“Yes," he teases. " I've decided it, you're never leaving my side, my guardian angel~”

And he scoops you into his side, letting you rest before he has a few more rounds with your pretty hole— then he'll take you back home to the palace and convince you to stay. He'll show you the library. He'll let you lose yourself in the royal gardens all day if you wish! As long as you return to his chambers each night and let him please you the way you deserve to be.

But he's fallen for you already and the whole kingdom will burn in a blaze of sapphire dust if anything or anyone ever keeps him away from you.

[globaloppaaa]

full heart, empty stomach

ft. yoon jeonghan

a/n: i’ve tried editing these as much as i can because MAN these stories are old lmao. However they aren’t entirely proof read!

warnings: slightly suggestive (bc jeonghans’ a menace) but reader doesn’t want that rn 🙄, otherwise pure fluff and appreciation

Dawn's light seeps through closed blinds, neither crisp nor a clear morning as droplets of rain mist themselves above homes and busy streets. If it weren't for the warm figure embracing your side, this morning would have begun much less desirable.

You shift in your spot, sheets lazily tangled between your legs. Carefully you unravel yourself as to not wake him, just cherishing the moments like these where you can embrace how truly peaceful he looks. Even as he’s lightly snoring with his mouth ajar. Gently, you place a knuckle from underneath the blankets to his face, stroking a soothing line across his jaw. The boy's head subconsciously nuzzles into your palm, feeling it's warmth radiate throughout his entire body. Within a few seconds his face heats into a soft blush, and if he were awake he'd scold himself for being so vulnerable, trying to hold back the thoughts of how easily he comes undone for you. From a single stroke of your palm you make him go shy, as he usually does whenever he spends his time with you. It opposes his state of ridicule and teasing, and would most certainly ruin his reputation if any of his friends were to see. However when he’s with you, Jeonghan really doesn’t mind.

He gently twitches his eyelids, pinpointing his gaze into yours.

"Hi Hannie."

“Hi sweetheart”.

He guides his arms around your waist, encasing you in the cocoon shape he's formed himself into. His eyes close once again, blindly caressing your nose with his own as you brush a few stray strands from his forehead, tucking them behind his ears. He hums at the contact, intertwining his leg in yours and you let out a little laugh, honeyed by the mornings raspiness on the tip of your throat.

God, those little laughs are what he lives for.

You dip your head a little more into his chest, taking in the way his sweatshirt releases his natural cologne with every caress. When he hugs himself around you, his heartbeat lulls you back into that light state of peace, forbidding to shelter anyone else's heart like he does for you. Jeonghans’ mind and soul are overflowing by his love, unable to take in anymore from anyone else.

His stomach on the other hand, was another story.

With a loud grumble and a quiet groan from himself, you snicker, leveling your face with his.

"Could we get something to eat?" he asks, convincing a part of you with his cheesy smile and gleaming eyes

"I don't really wanna move.” you half-innocently pout.

"I know you don't baby, and you look so pretty right now. But you know what else looks pretty? A nice stack of pancakes and syrup."

You continue to lay in his arms, stuffing your head deeper into the crook of his neck. It sets off the smallest tingle to his skin, inspiring him to coyly comeback at your idling.

"Or I could take a bite out of you." He smirks rather confidently, tracing his fingers lower against the dips in your hips. He can feel your face contort against his skin, and suddenly your motivation to start the day skyrockets.

You glimpse his joyous smirk appearing as you release yourself from his arms.

"Anything else with your pancakes?" You ask humorously, a raspy tone still in your voice as you approach the stairs. Jeonghan laughs as he follows your figure through the doorway, running his eyes down your body clothed in his large and longly-discarded t-shirt.

You’re his and he’s yours he relishes. The thought alone gives him all the energy he needs each day. Raising from your bed, he hurriedly tags along to meet you again, just as he always find himself doing.

check out my masterlist!

globaloppaaa© do not copy, modify, or repost my work without consent and permission

[violet-1atte]

Kinktober Day Twenty-One: Tentacles - Minho/Jeongin

Tags: Pirates, sea monsters, dom/sub undertones, top!Minho, bottom!Jeongin, oviposition, belly bulge, come inflation(?), mating, breeding, crying during sex, double penetration CW: Brief description of drowning (no one actually drowns!)

AO3 Link

When Jeongin was a child, his mother had always warned him not to go near the sea. “It’s too dangerous, Jeongin!” she would always say. “There are pirates and thieves and terrible storms and evil sea monsters. I don’t want you to get taken away from me.” Her warnings seemed to do little in changing the course of his life though. It had been years since Jeongin had seen her and he was a faithful member on board the pirate ship Stray Compass, led by the aptly named king of the sea, Bang Chan. Her warning against pirates now seemed only as a foreshadow of Jeongin’s future when he looked back on it. 

He had long since stopped being afraid of sea monsters. He was curious about them, sometimes too curious, as Chan often warned him, but at the end of the day he lived in unbelief despite curiosity. Strange things in the water? Hallucinations from sleep deprivation. Huge waves? The storms he had been warned about. The storms were the only things that scared him now. Those were what could really take lives out on the sea. 

He had always done his best to heed his mother’s warnings when it came to the sea. They were his captain’s and his crew mates’ warnings as well. But things couldn’t always go the way they were planned. 

It was a huge storm and Jeongin was trying to bring down the sails so that the wind wouldn’t tear them or push them over. The rain was pouring down, soaking him to the bone, and the wood was wet. He could hear his crew mates shouting down below but couldn’t make out a word they were saying above the thundering rain and howling wind. 

Then, a wave crashed over the ship. It tilted and Jeongin gasped as his foot slipped. And then he was falling. Falling, falling, the wind and rain rushing around him as he plummeted to the raging sea. In that moment all the warnings of his past came back to haunt him and as he screamed for someone to save him, to catch him, he wished he had listened. 

The water was sharper than any knife Jeongin had had the misfortune of getting stabbed with. His first instinct was to gasp, but instead of air filling his lungs, water rushed in instead. The waves were too strong for him to find the surface and quickly he realized he was sinking. Sinking deeper into the deep, dark depths of the sea as he thrashed around to find a way back up. 

As he felt the strength in his limbs giving out and head going fuzzy, something wrapped around his leg. He barely had any time to register the feeling before something was pushing past his lips and into his mouth. He would have tried to fight it but his body had no fight left. Whatever it was filled Jeongin’s mouth with something sticky and the substance traveled down his throat and into his lungs. The substance coated the insides of his lungs and figured that this was his moment to die, this was how he would end–eaten by one of those sea creatures he had never fully believed in but almost wished were real–then out of nowhere, the burning in his lungs stopped. 

He sucked in a sharp breath and instead of feeling like he was breathing in molten lava, his lungs expanded, his head got less fuzzy, and the tingling in his limbs subsided. He was breathing again despite being surrounded by water. He should have been dead. 

He didn’t have enough time to think about how he was breathing underwater before whatever had wrapped around his leg and pushed into his mouth wrapped also around his torso and his arms. There were more than two and they suctioned to Jeongin’s skin. He couldn’t pull away even if he tried. Then he began to move and he realized he was being pulled through the water. This thing is trying to kill me. It's going to drag me to the depths and eat me, he thought in a panic. The water rushing around him was almost painful as he was dragged through it at an inhuman speed. The panic that had settled into his bones when he realized he was drowning had returned. 

Thankfully, to his great relief and surprise, whatever this thing was, was not dragging him deeper. After what seemed like ages, Jeongin suddenly started to see faint light filling the water. He could make out the outline of the creature now and–was that a man with tentacles? 

He didn’t have to ask for long because suddenly he was being tossed up onto shore and he hit the ground with a loud thud. The sand dug into his skin and he groaned and then the burning in his lungs was back. He started coughing and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees as all the water trapped inside him spilled out. “Fuck,” he croaked after the coughing fit left him, his throat burned raw. “What the hell was that…” 

His question was answered quickly as he looked up and looked around and his eyes landed on a man–not a man. It was some sort of creature, one that had a human face (arguably the most pretty face Jeongin had ever seen), and a human body–except for the purple color of his arms and legs and the fucking tentacles that protruded from his torso. 

Jeongin scrambled back, the sand sticking to his wet skin. “What–what are you?” he asked, voice shaking. The creature tilted his head and began walking towards Jeongin, tentacles raised in the air so they didn’t drag on the ground. 

“I’m Minho,” the creature responded and Jeongin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He could speak too? He smiled at Jeongin’s reaction and another shock of fear stabbed Jeongin’s chest when he saw that its teeth were sharp. All of them. “Ah you can understand me! Good, it worked then.” 

What fucking worked??? 

Jeongin realized he said that out loud when the creature made some sort of laugh that probably would have been charming to Jeongin if he weren’t scared out of his mind. “What I gave you to help you breathe under the water. It also allows humans to understand us.” 

“Oh…” Realization dawned on Jeongin. “You saved me.”

“I did, yes. I can’t let a perfectly good human just go to waste like that! Especially when I was right there. I’ve been observing you for a long time. Very pretty human.” 

Jeongin’s brain short circuited. Perfectly good human? Observing him for a long time…? Pretty?? “Huh–what I’m sorry I–I’m confused. Why–why were you watching me? What…?” 

“Oh! You’d be a perfect mate. That’s why,” Minho stated as if it were the most normal statement in the world. “Very pretty, very strong. You have many people to protect you who seem quite loyal. You’d be perfect to care for my babies.” 

Jeongin’s mind was reeling. “Babies?” he exclaimed. “I can’t have children, I’m a man! And I just met you! I don’t–what?” 

Minho stepped closer and one of his tentacles slithered up Jeongin’s leg. Jeongin shivered and something sparked in his stomach and–wait what the fuck? Another tentacle came to wrap around his waist and he wanted to pull away, he really did. But he didn’t. The creature was ridiculously handsome and there was something alluring about him, but maybe he had put something in whatever substance he’d given him to make him breathe. 

“Silly, you wouldn’t be having the children. I’d put my eggs inside you. You’d incubate them for me. And I saved your life, right? I save your life, you become my mate!” 

Jeongin wasn’t sure how he had reached that conclusion but he was ready to wake up from this dream. It wasn’t a nightmare, at least not now. Because even though he was highly weirded out and still a little scared, he wasn’t terrified. What had that creature done to him? “I don’t–that’s not how it works. You can’t just–mate someone out of nowhere!” How would that even work? Did he have a weird dick that he would push the eggs into him with? Would he use his tentacles? They’d have to go so deep–oh. Jeongin swallowed and wet his lips. There was no way he was getting hard right now.

Minho pouted and the tentacle wrapped around his waist began to slide underneath his soaked shirt. Another shiver ran through Jeongin’s body and his nipples began to harden. “But it’s not out of nowhere. I told you I’ve been watching you for a long time. I know you’d be perfect! Please? I’ve never been able to find a mate…My eggs always have to die.” He looked so sad suddenly that Jeongin’s heart clenched. Fuck. He swallowed as he looked down at the tentacles going over his body. They felt good. He certainly wasn’t entirely against the whole thing, judging by how his pants were tented with the outline of his cock. 

Fuck, this was insane. 

“I…I don’t know…” Jeongin trailed off. His mother’s warnings flashed in his head. Beware of sea creatures. 

He found he didn’t really want to listen anymore. 

“Alright,” he said, swallowing thickly. His chest prickled with fear but another part of him was curious. So curious, like Chan always warned him against. Why were people in his life always giving him warnings? Didn’t they know that only made his desires more intense? “I can be your mate.” 

A grin spread across Minho’s face and he licked his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Another tentacle shot out to join the other one under Jeongin’s shirt and together they both pulled it up. Jeongin lifted his arms as his shirt was tugged off and tossed somewhere on the sand. One of the tentacles traveled up to his chest and a slick substance followed behind it. The tentacle stopped at his chest and then one of the cups on the underside suctioned to his nipple and Jeongin moaned. “Shit!” he gasped, back arching. Minho was still smiling at him and he tilted his head at Jeongin’s reaction. 

“Pretty,” he mumbled. 

Another pair of tentacles joined together below Jeongin’s waist and began working to get his pants off. How many did he have? They seemed to be very tactile because it didn’t take them long to get his pants all the way off. Jeongin’s cock bobbed up and slapped against his stomach and Minho licked his lips as he looked down at it curiously. “Hmm yours looks different…pretty.” Jeongin didn’t have time to question what he met because then one of his tentacles was wrapping around his cock. Jeongin let out a strangled moan. 

“Ohhh my gods,” Jeongin exclaimed, eyes squeezing shut. The tentacle was slick and wet and sticky and unlike anything Jeongin had ever felt. His entire body felt like a live wire ready to combust. More tentacles made their way over Jeongin’s body, crawling up his sides, suctioning to his thighs, playing with his nipples, wrapping around his throat to prod at his mouth. There were so many sensations it was overwhelming and Jeongin felt like he was going to pass out. 

One of Minho’s tentacles made its way up Jeongin’s inner thigh, a trail of purple slick left behind. Then the tip began to prod at his hole and his mouth fell open. At the same time, the tentacle that had been at his mouth shoved its way in and Jeongin’s eyes rolled back. It tasted salty like the ocean but there was also a hint of sweetness that made it intoxicating. He realized he’d tasted it when he’d been under the water. 

The tentacle at his hole swirled around it for a second before it began to push inside of him. Jeongin let out a muffled whine around the tentacle in his mouth and spread his legs. The tip of the tentacle was no bigger than two fingers but as it pushed in it got bigger and bigger. Jeongin choked and dug his fingers into the sand. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t take me,” Minho said as he pushed his tentacle deeper. Jeongin’s vision went blurry as his hole stretched around the intrusion. “But you’re doing so well.” 

The tentacle pushed deeper, deeper, until it brushed against Jeongin’s prostate and he made a guttural sound around the tentacle in his mouth. It continued moving even past that until when Jeongin looked down he could see a slight bulge on his stomach. His head fell back and he took deep breaths in through his nose. 

Minho’s eyes locked on the bulge in his tummy and removed the tentacle from his mouth. Jeongin gasped, moans flowing freely as he began to pump the tentacle in and out of him. “So small,” Minho mused. He reached out with his hand and pet over the bump on Jeongin’s stomach. “Gonna look so pretty when I fill you up.” 

“Nghhh shit, oh fuck,” Jeongin moaned. Minho was so deep, practically in his stomach. He didn’t even know why he had been against this initially. Any rational thought had left his mind. He just wanted to be filled. Wanted to see his stomach expand as Minho fucked his tentacles into him and filled him with his eggs. 

“Such a pretty human,” Minho mumbled. “Truly perfect…” Another tentacle moved to press against his rim and Jeongin gasped, eyes going wide. 

“That’s not–that’s not going to fit,” he whimpered, but Minho continued pushing anyway. 

“It will fit. I promise,” he reassured. The tip of that tentacle slid past his rim and the stretch burned. Jeongin choked on a moan and his eyes stung with tears. The pain quickly mixed with pleasure so intense Jeongin felt like he was going to fall apart. Minho was very surely breaking him. There was no way he could live normally after this. 

It wasn’t long before Jeongin could see the imprint of both tentacles in his stomach. He reached out with a shaky hand and pressed down, felt them move under his palm. “S-so full,” he groaned. He had never been this full in his life. 

“You’re going to be fuller soon,” Minho said with an amused grin. Jeongin’s eyes rolled back as Minho began to fuck both tentacles into him, while at the same time he explored Jeongin’s body with the rest of his tentacles. There were marks sucked all over his skin from the suckers on Minho’s tentacles and there were tentacles wrapped around his thighs, his arms, his waist, all holding him in place. His whole body tingled and his stomach burned hot with arousal like he’d never felt. It was so much, so so much. 

Without a warning his body spasmed and he orgasmed, his cock twitching weakly as ropes of cum shot over his body. Minho wrapped a tentacle around his cock as he came and Jeongin’s hips jerked away from the overstimulation. The tentacle squeezed, practically milking him through it. “Mm-Minho 's too much,” he hiccuped. At some point the tears had started running freely down his face. Oh gods…

“Shh, pretty human, doing so well. Just gotta get you nice and open to take my eggs,” he mumbled. Jeongin wanted to whine, to cry out that he already was open! Minho was splitting him in two, he was stretched beyond belief. But Minho didn’t wait much longer after that, and all the sudden his tentacles were slithering back out. Jeongin whined pathetically at the loss and his gaping hole clenched around nothing. 

“Please…” he whimpered, unsure what he was even asking for. Slick from Minho’s tentacles ran out of his hole and coated his thighs, leaving Jeongin feeling wet and dirty. He’d never particularly liked that feeling but now it was heaven. 

“You’ll be a good little thing and take my eggs right?” Minho said, one of the tentacles around Jeongin’s thigh tightening. He nodded his head, too dumb to form a proper response. “Good.” 

Jeongin looked down through hooded eyes and his breath hitched at the tentacle that wrapped around Minho’s front. This one was different from the others–wider and shorter, and covered bumped where the other tentacles had been smooth. It registered to Jeongin that this must have been his ovipositor and he was about to be filled with Minho’s eggs. This thought should’ve led to panic, should have led to the initial feelings of apprehension he had. But in the moment he wanted nothing more than what was about to happen. 

The tentacles on his thighs spread his legs wider and the tip of the ovipositor slipped past Jeongin’s rim. It was already as big as the two tentacles combined and as it went deeper he felt like the wind got knocked out of them. Minho’s eyebrows were furrowed together and he was biting his lip as he pushed in, the stimulation clearly pleasurable for him as well. Jeongin could hear his heavy breaths and that only made the fire in Jeongin’s stomach burn hotter. 

“Fu-uckk,” Jeongin choked, digging his hands deeper into the sand. “S-so–so bi-igg.” He was sure this one would tear him in two. There was no way it could fit. He could feel the bumps from the eggs rubbing along his walls, rubbing against his sensitive prostate, stretching him further. The rest of Minho’s tentacles worked to touch him elsewhere–one jerked his weeping cock while another two played with his nipples. It was mind-numbing. “I can’t, I can’t, it’s too m-much hnngg…” At this point he was practically sobbing, his words coming out more like choked gasps and moans. 

Minho smirked and there was a small amount of blood on his lips from where he had bitten them hard. “You can. It’s already in. Look at how your tiny little stomach is full.” He pressed down on Jeongin’s abdomen and his whole body jerked. 

“Sh-shit, oh fuck!,” he gasped. 

“So pretty,” Minho hummed. He grinned, flashing his sharp teeth and leaned forward to grab Jeongin’s hips. “I’m going to start filling you now.” 

Jeongin was too dazed to process what he was saying, but he didn’t need to. He felt it the second it started, the way Minho’s tentacles tightened around his limbs and suctioned to him, and oh, the way his insides felt as Minho began pumping him full. It felt like cum at first, hot and wet, but then the eggs started moving. They spilled inside of him and Jeongin felt them moving along his walls. They stretched his stomach and he watched as Minho literally filled him up. He felt like the breath had been sucked from his lungs and all he could do was moan helplessly. 

When Minho deposited the last egg inside him, a large spurt of hot liquid filled his insides alongside and drool ran down Jeongin’s chin. Minho made little groans that were like music to Jeongin’s ears as he finished inside of him and filled his stomach with warmth alongside the warmth of being so full. “There,” Minho mumbled finally, his voice a bit rough. He ran his hand over Jeongin’s stomach and smiled. “Nice and full of my babies now.” 

Jeongin looked down at himself and ran his hands over top. “Oh my gods,” he breathed, wetting his lips. “I look–I look–” 

“Bred. Mated. My mate,” Minho said happily, a proud smile resting on his face. 

Jeongin nodded. He couldn’t believe this had happened. He had mated a sea monster. He knew his life was full of surprises but nothing could have prepared him for this. “Stay away from the sea,” his mother had said. Pirates and thieves, storms, and sea creatures. Every warning disobeyed. Jeongin silently sent a prayer of apology upwards. 

“Wh-what–” Jeongin croaked, shocked by how raw his voice sounded. “What do I do now?”

“You stay safe. Take care of yourself,” Minho said, running his hands and his tentacles over the bump of Jeongin’s belly. “Then when the time comes, you’ll push the eggs out and they will hatch. And be our babies.” Minho chirped as he touched his tummy and Jeongin was struck with how cute the happy little sound was. 

“Okay…but what about my crew? How do I get back to them?” 

“I will bring them to you,” Minho reassured him. “Only you promise they won’t look for me. Or hurt me. Or you.” He frowned deeply. “Humans can be scary.” 

Jeongin sighed softly and nodded. He knew that fact well. “Alright, you’ll be safe. They wouldn’t hurt you anyway. Just make sure I get back to them.” 

Minho nodded and smiled, showing his fangs again. A little shiver ran down Jeongin’s spine. “Don’t worry. I will. But first, pretty human needs shelter.” 

“Jeongin,” he said quickly. “My name’s Jeongin.” 

Minho’s smile grew. “Okay. Jeongin needs shelter. Come with me.” So Jeongin gathered his clothes off the ground and dusted the sand off of himself. It felt strange to stand in this state and he was sore and exhausted. And after taking one glance at him, Minho grabbed him with the combined strength of his arms and tentacles and picked him up, carrying him to wherever the best place for shelter would be. 

[stupidlittlegay]

Marriage, and other such bindings

Pairing: Barbatos/gn!Reader

Rating: M (kinda suggestive though nothing is stated)

Word count: 1063

Summary: Reader brings up the topic of marriage, and both lovers quickly find themself become possessive (in a sexy way)

Tags: gender neutral reader, kinda dommy reader, cuddling, bed sharing, established relationship, pact/brand markings

AN: I’ve just been thinking about Barbie’s love survey where he talks about wanting to be bound by his lover…and that’s canon. Anyway, I wish they’d do more stuff about his sin, maybe it’ll come up as part of his motives if he really is NightBringer. Kinda very self-indulgent. 🎉🎉 First fic on tumblr

———

“Marry me.” You whispered to his lips, pulling back a minuscule amount to unseal the kiss. “Properly.”

“Properly?” He asked, the movement of his lips brushing against your skin, pushing his nose into yours to nuzzle against your face.

“How many times have we married each other in shared dreams and worlds? Bound ourselves to each other to be freed from some game or illusion?”

“And is that not “proper”?” He teased.

“Do you consider it real?” Tracing your fingers lightly along his hairline, you tucked the stray hairs behind his ear without needing to look. “I want to be able to call you my husband. To stake my claim on you and know you are bound to be. And to be completely owned in return.”

His shiver under your fingers was small, but you caught it. He was a greed demon, after all.

You asked him, “do you want to be owned by me?”

“Please.” You thought you heard him sigh, but he didn’t speak up to repeat it. Instead, he pulled back slightly to be able to look you in the eyes, twined your hands together where they sat on the mattress, and said to you: “I’ve never been married before.”

“Never?” You asked as you pulled up your free hand to stroke over his jaw. He really was so pretty, it was a shame you weren’t allowed to say it. “Never is a very long time.”

“No one has ever treated me like you treat me. No one has ever made me crave being treated like you treat me.”

“Barbie~”

“Beloved.”

“I wouldn’t ask you for a pact, I don’t need you to be subservient to me. I just want you. Forever.”

He stewed in that for a moment, closing his eyes and bringing his lips to yours in a series of quick, shallow kisses.

“I could brand you.” The demon’s free hand had moved to sit on the bare skin above your heart, tasting the calm and heady pulse beneath his palm. “Brand you with my name and mark, taint your aura with mine.”

You hummed indulgently at the statement, moving your hand to instead press his harder into your skin.

“It would show here,” he continued, staring through your skin. “Always. And everyone would know it’s mine. You’re mine.

“The brand would lend you some power, not unlike a pact but with less pull. Instead of commanding me it would be more like asking politely; I would get to pick and chose which orders I am to follow, despite feeling a desire to serve you.”

“Perfect.”

“And, in return, I would always be able to find you, feel your heartbeat, be pulled to you across any and all plains.

“This is a demon marriage, an equal exchange of souls.”

He moved to press his cheek to the skin previously covered by his hand. With his movement, you leaned backward into the pillows, taking him with you to lie down. “I want it.”

“As do I.” He murmured into the skin of your chest, your hands coming up to stroke his head and run your fingers through the hair at his nape. “Although, I do lament you cannot brand me in return.”

You ponder on his statement for a moment, pretending that you had not already thought it over many times, before. “One day,” you start, pressing the hand not otherwise occupied into the space between his shoulder blades. Applying pressure to the skin; fair, unblemished—for now. “When I am a sorcerer in my own right, I will forge my own sigil and burn it so deep into your skin it will never fade.

He went still against your chest, breaths stuttering before evening out with a squeeze to your body. “We could do it now.” He seemed to test the statement, worried about the possibility of a negative response.

“I will have no regrets.” You tell him, sure and steadfast in the statement.

He breathed into your skin, huffing hot breath onto the valley of your chest, before bringing his lips to your skin and beginning his incantation.

“I, Barbatos—first of my name, first of my kind—chose to bind myself to the soul beside me. In turn, I have been chosen, I impart my brand upon them: Apprentice of the Sorcerer Solomon, bearer of The Ring of Light.”

You feel the binding and the words come over you—although it was a spell you had never learnt, the oath fell easily from your lips. “I—Apprentice to the Sorcerer Solomon, bearer of The Ring of Light—take the brand of Barbatos—first of his name, first of his kind—and in doing so, bind my soul to his for as long as we should exist.”

“With this brand, I acknowledge our bond of trust and love, I see it returned.” He finalised with a kiss to the skin.

Under his mouth, you felt the tiny pinpricks of a soul pact come into place. Watching as the skin changed colours under his breath, you relished into the feeling of the binding. Strings pulled tight between the two of you, and you felt your soul burn brighter as it became enveloped in his. Your soul and his, forever.

The brand revealed itself to you as your demon pulled slowly away to admire it. A sigil spelling his name, as well as a protection spell, and a few other symbols you didn’t recognise from your studies.

“This one,” he whispered, pointing to a shape you couldn’t identify, “is the demon symbol that detonates this mark as a brand between two.” He moved his eyes to beam up at you. “It is similar to a wedding band.”

Cupping his chin, you tease him: “I think I’d still like a ring.” Managing to get the statement out before cutting yourself off with a yawn—all of your energy spent from the ritual, physically demanding or otherwise.

“I believe I’d also be interested in partaking in the custom.” He said softly—admiring the brand again, and you chuckled slightly at the idea of him wearing the ring under his gloves before yawning a second time.

He looked up into your eyes, your natural colour now ringed with green and speckled through with gold. “Sleep well, my beloved, my darling, mine.”

“Good night, Barbie.” You mumble. “You’re mine forever, I love you.”

[koisuko]

Could I request reader as a cat, but with the mk 1 girls?

Absolutely! (Forgive me this is long overdue and has been sitting in my drafts, im slowly losing my passion and motivation for mk1 content im sorry jehfjsjf)

Pov: You are a cat (pt4)

how the mk1 characters react to you as a stray cat, one with an oddly familiar/fitting name

part 1, part 2, part 3, bonus

Tw: none, gn, platonic, kitty cat

Ft: Mileena, Kitana, Sindel, Li Mei, Tanya

Mileena

Ever since her mother past, even if her soul was safe with her father, she found it hard to find the time to grieve. It wasn’t the same, not being able to speak to her, hug her, learn from her. And now, the newly passed duties of empress was thrown on her by circumstance, taking up nearly her entire day.

When in the solace of her room, hidden away from prying eyes, even for just a moment, she would let a tear slip down her cheek. All the inner turmoil collected into that single drop, and staining the silky case of her pillow.

All the struggle was slowly healed when you came along, trotting happily into the castle with your tail held high. You were a stray, with your once soft black fur now dirty and matted. She took pity on you, feeling the need to care for you tugging at the strings of her aching heart. And so she did, finding an almost therapeutic rhythm when brushing your shiny coat. Upon finding the small tag dangling on your neck, she was baffled to see it read ‘Tanya’. She almost giggled at it, such a bizarre coincidence to find a gentle companion with the same name as her lover.

During the nights, when the peace and quiet is a luxury earned, she lays on her satin sheets in deep thought. You, her new found friend, curled into a small ball against her side. Your purrs vibrate through her waist, bringing out a soft sigh of content from her lips. “Thank you, Tanya,” she whispered, “you’ve done a wonderful job fending off the sadness that plagues me.” She gently stroked your back, reaching up to scratch behind your ears. Both of you, at peace even for a moment, slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Kitana

It was hard watching her sister, watching her lack the time to grieve, watching her suffer in silence and create a fake facade of happiness in front of the people. Kitana wasn’t as high status as her, so she could afford just a little time alone, something she was grateful for. If she could, she would take her place, even for a moment to allow her some freedom.

Even with the time she had, she still missed her mother greatly. It was too early, unnatural even for her mother to be gone. She almost felt lost, lacking her mother’s usual guidance and watchful eye was akin to a motherless fawn.

It had been a normal day, tending to duties, but a particularly sad day. A day filled with heavy sorrow, the stages of grief hitting Kitana like a train. Her sister is busy, tending to duties as a new empress, and this left her feeling empty and alone. Never the less, she kept a neutral expression through out the day, even a small smile for the cherry on top.

But as night came, she’d sit out in the courtyard, here eyes to the stars above. She’d whisper to the night sky, one prayer at a time, for the safety of her family and the palace. A sudden rustle of a nearby bush breaks her from her thoughts. She approaches with a perplexed expression, “who’s there?” No answer, instead, the bushes rustle once more in response. Kitana took another step closer, cautious and ready, her heart slightly racing with impending adrenaline. To her surprise, a small fluffy feline emerged from the shrubbery, tilting its head in her direction.

“Mreow,” you purred, a simple human translation to a hello. She lowered her stance, relaxing at the sight of you, “hello little one,” she cooed. You chirped in response, trotting over to rub against her legs, looking up with your big adorable eyes. She giggled, there is simply no resisting the pleading gaze of a friendly feline. As if she read your mind, she gingerly scooped you up into her arms, cradling you close to her chest. While doing so, her fingers grazed the hem of your collar, causing her to retract for a moment in surprise. When looking closer, the collar read ‘Sindel’ in a intricate cursive engraving. She gently traced the letters with her fingers, as if committing it to memory. Her eyes welled with tears, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She sniffled, nuzzling her face into your fur with a sigh, “I miss you, mother.”

Sindel

To be reunited with her husband was one thing, but to be inside his body as a spirit was another. Death wasn’t at all as expected, she felt the cold sensation and loss of feeling that came with it, but did not go to some whimsical after life. Considering the death of the forest of souls, there was no going there. A shame, really, she wanted to experience it for herself. But, considering she was with her husband once more, it felt safer than the forest.

The best she could describe it would be, feeling whole again, realizing a part of her that she was missing. She felt a strange connection between her and the other spirits there, as if a cord interlocked them at the core. Every feeling, every thought, it was all shared between them as a collective. Negativity didn’t exist, all the fear and longing she once felt, was gone now.

There was a place where everyone was a physical, walking around in a blank plane of white and fog. This is where she could be with her husband, reunited once again in pure bliss. The area was endless, even if you chose to walk continuously, you would never reach an end.

Sindel sat near the edge of the group, waiting for her husband to return once again. She looked off into the endless pool of white, deep in thought. She could see the memories of her past life, memories of her children, husband, and the kingdom. All the memories skimming over her brain like a slide show, all the way up to her untimely death. Reaching down, she gingerly caressed the wound where the katana had struck and killed her. She could remember the look of dread and sorrow on her daughter’s face, but proud was the only thing she could feel. Sindel could see the progress Mileena and Kitana have made through Jared’s eyes, and regardless if she could tell them or not, she was beyond overjoyed.

A sudden presence beside her lured her out of her trance. When she looked, she was surprised to see you, the spirit of a small house cat. It was unusual to see animals here, but never has it been unwelcome. Perhaps the others have not noticed you, as usually they would flock to an animal newcomer. She smiled down at you, admiring the beauty of your coat while you groom your paw in silence. You turned your head in response, looking up at her with one big eye, the other closed off as a token of your past life. You could sense that she was waiting, and decided to keep her company. You stood, stretching your back before trotting over to her. You didn’t hesitate, making yourself right at home on Sindel’s lap. There was no protest from her, instead, she placed a gentle hand on your back and stroked her fingers through your fur. It had been quite some time since you had been pet, your past life lacking the love and care you craved so much. If only Sindel had found you when you both were alive, she would surely take you in as her own. She scratched the top of your head, eliciting a soft purr of satisfaction from you. Sindel continued to wait for her husband, watching memories flow by, but this time with a new friend.

Li Mei

Li Mei practically watched Sindel’s daughters grow up from small infants to young women. She nearly felt her eyes well with tears, watching the coronation of Mileena through blurred eyes. Even if she gained the role through circumstance, she was still unbelievable proud.

It was unfortunate, downright depressing, losing the best friend she had just got back. After years of pleading with Sindel, working so hard to regain her trust after Jared’s passing, she had finally rebuilt the bond once broken. Only for the untimely death of her best friend, regaining her best friend’s husband in her place. Although, it was a relief to learn from Jared that she had safe passage to an afterlife of some sort. And, she was happy to hear that they were reunited, even if it was through failed dark magic.

After her promotion for her heroic acts, she felt alone and home sick. She felt wrong in the place as chief of imperial police, missing the streets of Sun Do where she kept peace for so many years. Now, she sat in her office as a newly reinstated first constable, mindlessly dragging the pen across parchment. She had taken up journaling, a simple way to vent out the everyday frustrations of police work, and to pass time on off days where crime was minimal. Paperwork from the days criminals had stacked neatly in the corner of the desk, a small lamp hovered over the various journal papers. She sighed, setting the pen down and leaning back in her seat. Stretching her back with a satisfying pop before making way to the exit of her office.

A sudden shrill shriek startled Li Mei, nearly sounding like a child screaming for help. At this time of night? She swiftly ran to a nearby alleyway where she was surprised to see the source of the sound was a cat fight between strays. One was much larger, covered in fluffy orange fur, and the other a small and scrawny brown tabby. The smaller one let out a meek hiss, while the larger one raised a paw ready to strike. You bolted behind Li Mei’s leg, having accidentally stumbled into the territory of a large Tom cat. He was aggressive, fiercely defending his home and potential breeding area, to which you wanted no part of and simply made your way here by curiosity alone. As the Tom cat made an attempt to run towards you, Li Mei stomped her foot, “hey! Quit the scuffle.” The Tom cat hesitated at first, giving you one last hiss before running back through the alley where it came from. Li Mei brought her attention to the small tabby hidden behind her, lowering to crouch beside you, “quite the predicament you got yourself into hm?” She brought her hand to your eye level, to which you gave it a gentle sniff. Paper, ink, and a small amount of roast lingered on her skin, remnants of her lunch eliciting a heavy pang in your stomach. “Are you hungry?” She frowned, studying the current state of your boney ribs and dirtied fur. You meowed, your eyes large in a pitiful beg for a scrap of satiation. She smiled, scooping you up in her arms, “let’s get some dinner in you little one,” walking back into the headquarters. She felt a strange fabric on your neck, the dirt covering making it nearly impossible to notice at first. Attached to it, was a small metal heart, rusted and covered in mud. Upon wiping it with her thumb, the words on it read “umgadi”. She giggled, “my past comes back to me.” From then on, you made several returns to her for food and protection, until eventually, you were adopted by her with open arms.

Tanya

When she wasn’t with Mileena, majority of her time was occupied by the duties of leader of the Umgadi. Being at such a high rank, and rebuilding the Umgadi from the ground up to be reformed from a few rotten apples, had kept her a very busy woman. Tanya made sure to thoroughly wring out every pupil to keep out the rats who conspire against both the Umgadi principles, and the kingdom itself.

Tanya stride down the hallways of the palace, her heels clicking against the pristine floors of the Umgadi barracks. She held an air of confidence, her head held high and eyes straight ahead. She smiled as the gentle snores of her sisters reached her ears, the peaceful sound of slumber fading slightly with every step. She had an objective in mind, her feet carrying her to the palace gardens where her lover waits.

Upon arriving, just at the entrance, two small cats walked side by side with their tails wrapped over each other. They seemed so peaceful, enjoying each other’s company under the starlit sky. She hadn’t meant to intrude, but once noticed by the two felines, one had bolted into a nearby hedge. The one remaining, a small calico, had looked at her with curiosity. You did not run, instead, you sat right where you were, to convey that you were not afraid. Tanya smiled, lowering herself to a crouch and reaching a hand in your direction, “it’s alright, I won’t harm you.” You sniffed the air, catching a whiff of her scent, the smell akin to a sunlit field of flowers with a hint of honey. You slowly approached, your neck elongated to sniff her outstretched hand without risking too much. She smiled, tilting her head with curiosity, “what’s your name, little one?” You lifted your head, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of a name on your collar. It read, “Mileena”. She smirked at the engraving, “what a beautiful name.”

[zhongrin]

kangen

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, xiao, kazuha

◇ tags ◇ cotton candy fluff

◇ a/n ◇ i'm naming my fics with indonesian words bc i can s h u s h

◇ note ◇ in english, "kangen" means "miss", as in "i miss you"

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

as we all know, zhongli has a good grasp of his emotions. he’s used to waiting and observing and reigning his wants, so even if he does miss you, he tries to restrain himself from making it your problem.

this doesn't mean that he won’t subconsciously seek you out, however. it’s very subtle, but if you know what to look for, you’ll notice that he’s actively making an effort to insert himself into your mind one way or another, even if he doesn't seem to be aware that his actions are betraying his thoughts.

one forehead kiss in the morning becomes two. him appearing to pick you up from work five minutes earlier than usual. the way he eagerly offers his arm instead of waiting for you to reach out to him. a sweeter undertone in his voice accompanied by an equally sweeter nickname. indeed, he doesn’t realize he’s doing some of these things, but if you do point them out and tease him about it, he’ll smile sheepishly and you might even catch a glimpse of color rising up his ears.

“ah… how unbecoming of me. it was not my intention to act so wantonly. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable, dear.”

it’s very rare for al haitham to come to seek you out first, but when he does, you know it’s been a while since you’ve adequately spent time with each other. that, or he just feels particularly needy - perhaps from a frustrating concept he couldn’t seem to grasp, or a mission had gone awry. when things aren't going as planned and when he just needs to have someone to cling to, he will crave your comfort the most.

he’ll patiently hover over you as you do your tasks. cooking? expect him to ask what he could help with, and even if you don’t need any real help, he’s more than happy to just watch over the pot so it won’t boil over, or even become your taste tester. cleaning? you can take the broom and he’ll take the mop. working on your papers? the chair looks very uncomfortable, wouldn't having him as your lap pillow would be better than the hard cushions? plus, he can double as your essay checker too. how convenient, surely you won’t refuse?

no, he’s most certainly not being needy, what nonsense are you spouting about now? just shush and let him hug you close like this.

you might think xiao can go without your presence for a whole month with no difficulties whatsoever, but you couldn’t be more wrong. xiao craves your presence like a withered qingxin wish for rainfall. he’s just good at pretending that he’s above such desires.

and even though he is a patient soul compared to most, just like how fallen snow on dragonspine will eventually pile up on untracked paths, there’s only so much the yaksha can take before he starts to unconsciously seek you out. the corner of his eyes twitches when his ears pick up the sound of your voice in the wind. the frown settling between his brows deepening when more hours pass without you calling his name…

“xiao?”

he’s there before the last syllable finishes forming on your tongue and your lips are still apart. with his signature scowl on his face and his toned arms crossed across his chest, he gives you a glare and a very minuscule pout. there is no hesitation in his movements when you grin and invite him for a hug.

“took you long enough."

kazuha is accustomed to yearning and longing - loneliness is something he deals with daily. he misses his dear father, his friend tomo and the others he’s left, his home country where the lighting shines eternal, the stray cats he used to feed at the back alley of his residence….

but those experiences don’t make it easier to deal with his emotion when it comes to missing you. ironic, really. he would have thought having you nearby would be enough, would make him less needy, but in fact, it’s proven to be the opposite. it’s so hard to not stare in longing when you’re so near yet so out of reach. he wants to respect your space, your freedom, as you do your day-to-day chores. he truly does…

he watches in shock and horror when beidou slaps your back and whispers something to you while pointing directly toward him. when you turn to face your boyfriend, he struggles to keep his expression neutral and manages a sheepish smile as you approach him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“soooo…. heard from beidou that someone’s been pining on me….”

“mmm… nothing escapes anego’s keen eyes. would you let me... accompany you, just for a bit? i have to admit… i have been missing your presence, my songbird.”

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @niverine | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @clovcly | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee

[ficclings]

Lost - Chapter One

Next Chapter

- Group: Stray Kids

- Reader doesn’t not have a name!

- All members will appear in this fanfiction! Do not worry.

- Minors do not interact. This fanfiction will have graphic depictions of violence and other adult situations. This is also a mixed fiction of Apocalypse and Hybrid AUs. The reader in this fanfiction is a Female and therefore has female pronouns. 

Tagged: neohyxn

- I have not invested myself in fanfiction writing in quite a while so I’m very nervous about this...but I hope you enjoy.

If you want, you can donate.

    🕸️   It took everything in her body to not trip over the cracks in the pavement outside of her apartment building; her throat burning from both the cold and the amount of breathing she was doing as she raced towards the door.

Hands shaking as she struggled with the rusty lock, her ears pricked upward at the noise of a blood-chilling shriek, and she knew that they had spotted her again.

She was getting sloppy on her supply runs and even though she knew this, she wasn’t exactly known for having the best balance even standing still, let alone grabbing supplies from the blood-stained shops.

Letting out a small cry of relief, the door finally came unstuck, and she slammed the door shut; turning around just in time to see a small group of people slam their bodies into the thick glass door.

Their eyes bloodshot, their mouths always open and drooling, all of them agile despite whatever their human health state was like.  

“Fucking arseholes,” she whispered as she tried to ignore the groaning and the screaming that was just behind a single glass door.

Dashing up the stairs, she kept her apartment key ready in her hand, anything to just be a little safer that much quicker.

“I am alive,” she called out, her breath halting for a few seconds as silence followed her announcement.

“You sound terrified,”  

The deep voice made her flinch and she turned to see her best friend sitting up on his elbows, his eyes narrowing on her face and taking in her shaken form.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he jumped over the back of the sofa and quickly gathered her up in his arms, “safety in numbers,” he added pulling back so he could look her in the eyes.

“Felix, you were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you up,” she replied feeling a little bashful under his gaze, “it’s been so long since you had a good night's sleep and I’m not going to wake you up for every supply run just because you think you’re okay when you clearly aren’t,”  

She pouted when Felix chuckled and pet the top of her head with affection, enjoying the softness of her Dalmatian ears.

“You’re right,” he agreed surprising her quite a bit and she tilted her head to the side; the two of them making their way to the seating area, “lay with me?”  

Felix helped her move the heavy backpack she was carrying and held his arms out to her, knowing fully well that she would never be able to refuse such an action.

“Evil,” she mumbled before quickly joining him on the sofa, head buried in his chest as a blanket was thrown over them.

“Maybe so but you love me,” he giggled at the scoff that was replied and he squeezed the hybrid just a little bit more out of sheer love for her, “I’m glad you’re safe,” he added quietly as he heard a loud scream coming from a floor above them.

Must be Miss Lorn’s boyfriend...finally turned Felix thought with a shudder as the screaming continued a little more before it slowly became quiet with a loud gurgling.

“Me too,” she whispered gripping the fabric of his shirt for comfort, “maybe...maybe we should barricade the door today,” she added upon hearing the rather disturbing scrambling of hands scratching at the floorboards from above.

“I’m on it,”

                                    ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Even though the world had gone to shit, the internet seemed to still be working.

Only on select days of the month it seemed but working none-the-less.

Felix had been trying to get in contact with his best friends ever since things really started to go downhill; she could see his heart breaking every time the phone calls cut short or when they simply weren’t even working.

She had only met one of Felix’s friends and that was a man called Han Jisung.

An introverted man who was shy and anxious a lot of the time but bloomed the second he was comfortable with you.

She always had had a soft spot for Han and had enjoyed his company very much whenever he’d visited Felix, the two men extremely close thanks to their birthdays being one day apart.

She had assumed that Han would’ve been the first one he would try to get in touch with but apparently there was another man from Australia that he was the closest too.  

“Still nothing?” she asked quietly as she eyed Felix, who was leant over his laptop with a very exhausted expression on his lovely face, “Lix?” she pushed gently when silence followed her question, and he looked up slowly with a sad shake of his head.  

“I don’t even know if they’re safe,” he whispered trying his very best not to cry, “Channie-hyung is tough but his kindness is the thing that will get him in trouble...people will take advantage,” he closed his laptop and rubbed his face harshly; leaving red marks on himself.

“Minho-hyung is tough and no nonsense, but playful and kind...I guess he’ll be the one who would be around the longest,” Felix picked at his nails, and she knew that he was just talking to vent out his anxiety; so, she stayed quiet and nodded, “Changbin-hyung and Hyunjin-hyung live together, so I think they’ll be alright but Changbin is loud and a hot-head sometimes,” he pulled at his thick brown locks, “Hannie....” he seemed to be particularly stressed when talking about the slightly older man.

“Hannie is smart, and I think his anxiety benefits him...he’s not that great with social situations unless we’re with him so I think...I think he’ll be hiding in his home or with Channie-hyung...they’re super close,” he took a deep breath and turned to look at her for the first time since his ramble.

“Seungie and Jeongin are the youngest of our friendship group but I believe that they are together, I hope they’re together,” he whispered, “I believe they’ll be okay but they get overwhelmed easily and I just don’t know what to do!” he finally broke down in tears and she rushed towards him; pulling him into her chest and stroking his hair as he sobbed into shirt, gripping the back of it so hard she thought it would rip.

“I will help you find them,” she squeezed him tightly and kissed his forehead when he eventually looked up, “I will find them,” she knew it was giving him false hope, but she couldn’t stand to see the utter distress upon his face.

“I don’t want them to be hurt,” he whimpered as his face turned a bright shade of red due to his crying, “I love them,” he bit his bottom lip nervously before smiling ever so slightly when she bumped her head against his affectionately.  

“I know you do,” she replied looking at the front door at the sudden sound of screeching, which caused them both to bolt towards said door just in case they had to hold it shut once again.

“How are they still in the building?” Felix shook his head, voice still wrecked because of his crying.

“I don’t know, I thought I had gotten rid of them all on this floor,” she eyed the peephole and felt her stomach drop at the sight of them running down the halls; clearly on the scent of something and she hoped it wasn’t one of the poor pets in the other apartments.

“Might be newbies,” Felix sighed heavily, “I still think it’s to do with the water around here,” he added making her shrug.

“Could be, I haven’t been using any water for drinking that didn’t come out of a bottle,” she confessed, “bad for the planet but so is this virus,” she continued making Felix laugh.

“Same here,” he confessed as they moved away from the door and back towards his bedroom; shutting the door behind them.

A rule the two of them had come up with in case their front door was knocked down during the night, they would still have a barrier between them and the zombies.

Sleeping together was also another safety rule they’d made as they’d be able to 1. hold the door better with two and 2. have more chances to fight the zombies off if, God forbid, they got in.

Plus, they were just scared to be by themselves.

“Have you tried to call them?” she moved to his side on the bed and cuddled up with her arms locked around one of his, chin on his shoulder.

“I think using phones is going to be pointless,” he puffed a big sigh out, “fucking thing hasn’t been able to connect a call in about,” he paused, “three-four weeks,”  

This news came as a surprise to her as Felix hadn’t even mentioned this to her.

“Three-four weeks?!” she gasped, and he nodded, “oh Felix,” she almost cooed at his saddened expression, her fingers gently brushing his hair from his face so she could look at his dark brown eyes.

He, in turn, looked back at her feeling quite hopeless, his head pushing forward so their foreheads were together.

“I have you,” he whispered closing his eyes, “so it’s not all bad,” he felt his face flush red at the sudden confession, and he moved away from her, eyes darting to the grey carpet of his room.

There was a short silence that followed his statement.

She would be lying if she hadn’t picked up on a weird atmosphere surrounding the two of them lately; not that she hated the feeling, but it was just a little strange.  

Felix was always a touchy person; often pulling her into cuddles for most of the day or just petting her ears as she curled up beside him, kissing her forehead or cheek whenever he felt particularly soft.

But recently the cuddles had become longer and tighter, the kisses had become more frequent, and his lips lingered.

Even she had become aware that she was also being a lot more affectionate with Felix; even brave enough now to kiss him back on several occasions.

She considered the man a forever packmate, even though she didn’t have a pack in the first place.

Maybe she was confusing simple pack-love with romantic love? She wasn’t too knowledgeable about Hybrid pack lives, having been brought up with a Human family since birth.

Shaking her head furiously, startling Felix in the process, she cleared her throat and threw herself down onto the bed, pulling the covers over her body.

“We should get some rest, we need to go on another supply run soon,” she faked a yawn and made sure to face away from him as she tried to figure her thoughts out but still pushed backwards as Felix joined her, arm thrown around her waist protectively.

It was annoying that her tail was wagging.

Fucking traitor!

[redwolfxx]

Memories

next

James/DG x reader

tags: angst

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

                                "Diego"

You had grown up together, inseparable. You would study together, you would train together. You would watch shows together and be little delinquents together. You would skip class to watch Diego (Dora's, in your opinion, much cooler cousin) and snack on whatever you raided out of the kitchen. You practically lived together with how often you hung out together. You were best friends, almost siblings, but you couldn't be.

After all, you can't look at a sibling the way you saw him.

He was always there for you. Late nights when you would be stressing over homework he would sneak in and bring you food. He would then help you with your schoolwork and then hangout with you before leaving for the night. Your parents loved him, he was so kind and polite to them.

You, like him were an amazing fighter. You would spar together, the score was often left uncounted due to the closeness of each match.

He knew you so well and you knew him like the back of your hands. You could just look at each other and know exactly what the other was thinking. Two peas in a pod. Nothing would get between you

Except everything did.

High school. Although you went to the high school you were both so different. Your grades were above average but they weren't like his, you weren't as good as him in school. But, you weren't complaining, especially if your struggle meant more time with him after school.

Popularity wise, you were different. You were both known for your looks, however you both had very different personalities in school.

You would sit in the back by the window, daydreaming of all the things you would rather be doing than listening to the teacher ramble about his wife who left him because he was, and I quote "too ugly to even be in the same room with." Which, was sadly an accurate statement. Your popularity was more of the "mysterious" (girl/guy/etc) at the back of the room that people would talk to if they weren't afraid.

James on the other hand was popular, girls loved him, guys wanted to be him. He was the school's golden child. Perfect grades. Fast track times. Amazing charisma. And a heart of gold.

At least that was during school hours. After school though, you were both very different.

You were the kind (girl/guy/etc) who the grandmothers loved and asked if you had a significant other. You would feed stray cats, you would play with neighborhood kids. But more importantly you were the reason why thugs avoided your neighborhood.

James was the kind of guy who did his homework during class, or occasionally asked others to do it for him (after all who wouldn't want to do his homework, who can say no to that smile?). He would hang out behind buildings with other friends (read: wannabes) who would smoke and basically act like gangsters. After an hour or two he would go meet up with Charles Choi and discuss plans for the future. When he wasn't doing any of that he was starting fights with other crews for extra sparing practice. He loved fighting, but his fights consumed his life. He started seeing you less.

When he did have free time he would spend it with his girlfriend if the week from his school making out in the hallway bathrooms.

Some wondered why the two of you never were a thing, especially with how close you were - used to be.

----

It was a New Years Eve Party, it was at one of your "friend's" houses. She was nice, rich, and probably thought that being nice to you meant James would like her more. Anyway, it had been a few hours since you had arrived and the balcony started feeling like a good idea to get away from all the noise, sex, and smells.

You walked out and took in the nice warm air, a cooler breeze running through your hair every now and then. As you watched the streets of people below the penthouse you didn't notice the presence next to you. With a flick of a lighter and the smell of smoke, your concentration was broken bringing you to focus on the new presence beside you. James.

"Hey, haven't seen you much." You say, breaking the silence.

"Yeah well you seem to avoid me these days" He responds carelessly.

"It's not you I'm avoiding, but that crowd you surround yourself with. Anyway, when did you start smoking?" You ask.

"When did you care so much?" He snaps back, returning the two of you to a silent tension.

The silence enveloped the two of you as you looked into each others eyes, the sounds of the city below you and the party behind you two.

"I've missed you." You finally breathe out.

"Yeah, me too." He says, his warm eyes giving you a once over.

You both return your gazes to the city below watching the city lights go dark as the buildings all light up with the same numbers.

"The year is already over and I haven't even  completed my New Years Resolution from earlier this year." He says, sneaking a glance over at you.

"Well you still have 5 seconds left it seems." You say, still glancing at the city below.

Before you know it he's turned you so your facing him. Eyes looking deep into one another's. Without warning he drops his cigarette crushing it beneath his foot and grabs your waist pulling you into him.

Surprised you gasp, your gasp is met with a passionate kiss as the city breaks into noise announcing the New Year. Fireworks burst to your side announcing the arrival of the New Year.

You break for air and ask, "Why?"

"I always complete my resolutions." He smirks back.

Your face blushes a deep red as you avoid his sharp gaze. He grabs your face and pulls you to look at him.

"Do you want to know what my resolution for last year was?" He asks softly.

"What?"

"To kiss you."

This time his ears turn a soft pink shade.

You laugh at his sudden embarrassment and lean into him. Your head on his chest and arms around his neck with his arms around your waist. His head rests on your head as you watch the fireworks.

"Will you go out with me?"

"No."

"What?" He pulls away slightly, surprised.

"I'm not a one week fling, I'm not two week fling. I have feelings and a heart and I can't bear to be with you if you leave at the drop of a hat." You say, pulling away.

"No, no. I would never do that to you. Do you understand how much I love you. I've loved you for years. I promise I'd never hurt you. Never"

"Promise?"

"Promise. Will you go out with me forever?"

You laugh at his rewording, "Yes."

----

It had been almost a year since he had asked that. You'd been dating for a while now. It was almost the same as the friendship you had before with the exception of you seeing him more often and the physical contact.

Each night, however, he would start coming home later and later. Mumbling about a plan and leaving. Being the middle of the night you forget by the morning to ask him. After all he promised he would never leave. So what did you have to worry about?

You had been on countless dates. Amusement parks, fancy restaurants, and more. He was so kind to you, so good to you. He would buy you gifts and would never accept any gift you gave in return saying he was buying your love an affection and not to spend money on someone like him. You would always reassure him that nothing was wrong with him.

Over time he would start developing your habits and you would correct his. Always replacing his cigarettes with lollipops. Although he grumbled about it aloud, he always felt warm inside at the sight.

You both loved each other so much. You believed nothing would ever stop a relationship this amazing.

One day he disappeared. No note, no message, no call, no goodbye. He just left.

No one knew where he was, he was gone. As if he never existed to begin with. The only records of him were the photos on your wall and the pain in your heart.

And with that, he was gone. He left your heart shattered. He left you alone, with no trace of him to love.

He left you broken, destroyed, abandoned. Your heart filled with sadness which developed into anger. Over the following years you would love again, but never the same, no one was him. No one loved you like him.

Your anguish would fade and you would distract yourself with work, and when you weren't working you would watch videos of kpop idols. Although one in particular stood out to you, familiar almost, but with no reason as to why. It would never be him, he always complained of the color pink, "it's blinding" he would whine as he would cover his eyes as you laughed at him.

Pink hair must be popular, there is always a pink haired customer who arrives before your shift and leaves around the same time you get off everyday, his eyes a familiar brown. But still distant.

One day he would give you his number asking you to call him one day. You never saw his face and you were cautious of strangers so you thanked him and threw it out after his back had turned.

You would later discover a new message in your phone from a"Diego."

"Can we talk?"

[royalvelvette]

dumpster diving for a girlfriend

Read on AO3

Rating: Mature

Characters: Vaggie, Charlie Morningstar, Razzle, Dazzle Minor Appearances: Adam, Lute

Warnings: Aftermath of Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Rape/Non-con

Vaggie is… not doing great in this one. Her first POV scene contains a sentence that could be interpreted as her wanting to die (it's the last one), and her second contains explicit discussion of the fact she expected to die right at the beginning.

The Threats of Rape/Non-con tag is because Vaggie assumes that's why a demon saved her. It's kept intentionally vague and is a false assumption, but it is there.

I do recommend reading this one on Ao3 (link) due to better filtering capabilities wrt format if those subjects are triggering.

Word Count: 1398

Every staggering step sends another bolt of white-hot pain through Vaggie’s back. Taking her uniform off had been the smartest call – but did it ever hurt, peeling it off – even with her casual clothes underneath, the exorcist uniforms were designed to be skin tight. But she had to get out of the streets. The other exorcists had returned to Heaven, and sinners were beginning to emerge.

As she was now, Vaggie was easy pickings.

(Lute, towering above her, sinful filth-

It was a child – just a boy, not even past her hip-

Adam, taking her halo; better not get found by another sinner, Vaggie – always with the soft ‘g’ but at least he used her name-

shehatedthemshehatedthemshelovedthemdontleavemepleasepleasepleaseimsorry)

She stumbled, half blind, down the alley – her centre of gravity was all wrong, her wings were gone, fuck – her hand caught a dumpster, and she used it to lower herself to the filthy ground (perfect for filthy sinners like her), trying not to aggravate her wounds into bleeding again. What was left of her vision was fading in and out with the beat of her heart. Vaggie let her good eye drift shut.

Sinners were meant to die on Extermination Day, after all.

Charlie’s feet hurt. They always did, in the hours, days after the exorcist army retreated until the next year. But she couldn’t rest, not yet – there were entire swathes of the city she hadn’t been to yet, more possibly-injured-but-not-dead (there were less and less of them, more just dead, but she had to hope. She had to.) she could help. So what if her feet hurt? So what if her side was bleeding sluggishly where a stray bullet from a territory dispute hit her? So what if she hadn’t slept in nearly two days? She needed to help her people.

(Maybe this year, someone might even say thank you, instead of growling at her to fuck off. Maybe.)

She ducked down an alley to avoid one of the ever-growing fights. This alley had two exits, thank fuck, because she probably wouldn’t be able to go back the way she came unless she felt like waiting for a couple hours. She’d just have to double back after, check the main streets this alley cut her off from once the fighting died back down to pre-extermination levels.

(Why did they have to fight now, when so many dead sinners were still lining the streets? Couldn’t they at least wait for friends and families to recover the bodies of their loved ones? Or at least until the cannibals had cleared the worst of it...?)

Her eyes caught on something as she came closer to the corner of the alley. Something was against the dumpster – no, not something. Someone. Charlie rushed over, already reaching out to feel for a pulse. As she did so, though, the sinner’s eye fluttered open (fuck, fuck, the other one was missing, and it didn’t look like it was supposed to be). She flinched back from Charlie’s hand, but Charlie didn’t notice – she was already digging through her pockets for her bandage wrap. That missing eye looked recent.

It would probably scar. She could only hope it didn’t become a defining feature, like some sinners scars did. Bandage wrap in hand, Charlie reached towards the sinners face – hesitating for just a second when she flinched. But her socket needed to be protected – an infection wouldn’t kill her; never did, but it would be really fucking unpleasant.

Charlie murmured an apology under her breath and pressed forward. It only took a couple minutes to wrap the socket; two minutes of the sinner holding stiff like Charlie was about to snap her neck.

(If Charlie were anyone else, she probably would have.)

Work done, Charlie rocked back on her knees, taking a good look at the sinner for the first time since she had noticed her. Her first thought was,

Whoa, she’s really fucking pretty,

Which... wasn’t helpful. Her second thought, whoa, she’s about to yak, was slightly moreso, in that it let her get mostly out of the way in time as stomach acid splattered the ground (and the bottoms of her pants) where she had been just a moment ago. The sinner heaved, once, twice, before it faded to a truly awful sounding cough. Charlie reached over the vomit, rubbing her hand against the sinner’s shoulders.

She wasn’t expecting the sinner to scream and proceed to pass the fuck out.

Shit.

Vaggie was confused when she woke up again. Partly because she hadn’t expected to wake up – she vaguely remembered a demon approaching from the end of the alley not halfway blocked with trash cans; partly because she woke up somewhere different than she remembered being. Vaggie grabbed her spear (which was leaning against the bed she was in, for some reason – maybe the demon thought she’d be out longer?) and used it to get out of bed.

The movement sent searing pain through her back, but she wasn’t going to just... lay there helplessly. Not in a demon’s bedroom. Not when the only reason a demon would have saved her was...

... not important. Setting an ambush was.

There wasn’t anywhere to hide in the room itself – there were three doors (shit, this demon came from power, shitfuck), but barely any furniture except the bed and a desk covered in paper. If she knew how much time she had before the demon returned, Vaggie would investigate – anything to give her an advantage, that might save her – but there was humming coming her way from one of the doors.

Vaggie dropped, crawling under the bed, spear and all. She bit her lip harshly to keep herself from screaming – everything hurt.

The door she could still see opened. She heard the demon – female? - say something, but couldn’t make out the words over the ringing in her ears. She gripped her spear tighter. She had one shot at this – she had to make it count.

Charlie opened the door to her bedroom (all the other rooms were cobweb infested messes), humming. Razzle and Dazzle followed behind, Razzle with a bowl of broth, Dazzle with a tray holding a glass of water and painkillers. A stone dropped into her stomach when she saw the bed empty, and the angelic spear gone.

Oh, no, she thought. “Oh, no,” she said.

Razzle and Dazzle set their loads on her desk, each already flying to one of the other doors to check the closet and ensuite. Charlie watched, anxiously – if the sinner had left in the condition she was in, there was no way she would survive the territory disputes. She had to still be here.

Please, please let her still be here; let Charlie have not failed one more of her people.

Razzle emerged from the closet first, shaking his head. Charlie offered him a wan smile, holding out her hand for him. Razzle flew over quickly, eagerly accepting his chin scritches. Dazzle came out of the ensuite then, braying a negative as he flew over.

Charlie sighed. “Thanks, guys,” she said, bonking her head first against Dazzle’s, then Razzle’s. “You can go back to cleaning this place up.”

Razzle made an inquisitive sound, nudging against her hand.

“I’ll be okay,” Charlie said, trying not to let her voice shake. “I just... need a nap.”

Dazzle churred in the back of his throat, tugging at her hair.

“It’s okay,” she said again. “I’m just gonna nap before going back out... I couldn’t help her, but there’ll be more sinners out there. I’ll help them.”

Neither Razzle nor Dazzle looked like the believed her – why would they, she could feel her eyes begging to overflow and it was tricky speaking past the lump in her throat – but they finally left the room. Charlie sighed again as the door closed behind them before turning and walking over to the bed.

Only to stagger back, cursing, as the angelic spear darted out from the space underneath and stabbed her shin. Charlie fell onto her butt, still cursing – the sinner emerged from where they had been hiding under her bed (she hadn’t failed, she hadn’t failed, she could still help-), brandishing the spear towards her.

Charlie stared up at the sinner in front of her, holding one of the only things in Hell that could actually hurt her, and all she could think was.

Oh.

[redstringraven]

Amber & Blood

characters: traximus and nyxram rating: g content warnings: n/a word count: 3061 relevant tags: grief/mourning, post-canon, canon compliant

"Have... you ever done something like this?" When she sends him an inquisitive glance, he continues, "...mourned someone?" Her jaw tightens. He’s seeking companionship. He didn’t want to journey here alone, and he doesn’t want to be alone in grief, either.

---- With the rebellion's success, the New Republic making slow but steady progress toward a better future, Traximus decides it's time to make an important trip. Nyxram accompanies him.

[ read on ao3 ]

She'd always thought the Trebai Archipelago haunting from a distance.

Scattered pieces of what may have once been a small moon drifted just beyond a significantly larger silver planet, its orbit slow and almost lazy. Long, tangled tendrils of grayed plant root and organic matter kept the dozen 'islands' linked in a cluster. The archipelago's origins predated their history; no one quite had answers for how the system had remained 'one' for so long, and even less answers for how its flora continued to thrive even in vacuum. Spots of vibrant gold, red and teal leaves, flowering white plants--even a 'river' that flowed through and between the islands in twisting figure-eights, unbound to soil.

They’d chosen one of the outer islands to land the shuttle, so it’d be a walk to the piece at the center. Ranzar had fussed--insisted he could easily pilot them further in--but Traximus held firm this was the safer decision. Nyxram knows it’s more than that. She hardly minds. The two of them will make the trek while the crew minds the ship.

She casts a final nod over her shoulder to Grax, who salutes her from the shuttle's ramp, before she walks to Traximus's side. They make their way across the rock toward the first of the thick, winding roots that stretches to the next island across. The gravity should be weaker. Even for their large size, they should float, drift, need to watch their surroundings for stray debris. But the gravity here is strange, too. They walk as though they were on a homeworld vessel.

"You've been here before?" Traximus asks, suddenly, as they step onto the root. His voice is clear over her helmet's receiver; clear enough to catch a stiffness in his tone and exhaustion he’d long been trying to hide. It wasn't the focused, but warm, cadence she'd come to know.

"No," Nyxram answers. "But I've seen it."

Traximus grunts, shifting the satchel over his shoulder--the spear in his hand. "It's beautiful."

"Mn."

They continue across the root and step onto the next island.

Nyxram frowns to herself. He's trying to make idle conversation; distract himself. You're not giving him much to work with. "...why here?"

"What?"

"Why this place?" She clarifies. "What made you choose it?"

"Oh." He shrugs, clearing his throat. "He’d mention it when... when we'd discuss fond memories. --during meals. Suppose it's... as good a place as any. He never brought up family."

"But he had memories of the archipelago?"

"--yes. Traveling. Said he came here to think."

Nyxram's brows rose. "Traveling, then. What did he travel for?"

"...I don't know."

"No?"

"--no." There’s frustration in his voice. Then, something more akin to sorrow. "...No, I. I don't know, he... I guess I never asked." A pause. She saw his head turn to her from the corner of her eye. "Have... you ever done something like this?"

When she sends him an inquisitive glance, he continues, "...mourned someone?"

Her jaw tightens. He’s seeking companionship. He didn’t want to journey here alone, and he doesn’t want to be alone in grief, either.

Nyxram turns ahead, allowing her stride to widen. "Watch your step on the next line up,” she says, “these 'roots' are older than some galaxies. Best not to test them."

Behind her, Traximus sighs. They keep forward.

Somewhere above, a meteor flashes by. A wash of white and silver light blooms over the brownstone, sharpening their shadows and striping the ground in liquid patterns cast from the river. There’s no wind here. No sound. It's something ethereal, like walking through a dream. Their only clues of passing time came from subtle changes in the light or the water’s slow, steady flow.

Traximus doesn’t try to initiate conversation again. Neither does she.

They reach the center island. Roots emerge from various cracks in the stone, curling and tangling across its surface until they join to form the tendrils of material that hold the archipelago together. The water stream curves above and down, arcing the length of the island in a translucent halo that dapples it with flecks of light. Most of the archipelago’s plant-life resides here. She wonders if it houses a larger organism at its center. If all the flora binding the archipelago--blanketing its surface--are merely smaller extensions of one.

Nyxram slows her steps, allowing Traximus to move ahead. She follows him to the base of a mass of roots and flowering stems, just beneath the river’s center. Some of the plants stretch up toward it, as though reaching for a chance that stray droplets might land on their petals and leaves. For a moment they stand, silent.

Traximus steps to the mound. He kneels at its foot, setting the spear to his side and sliding the satchel from his shoulder. There's a painstaking care to his movements as he opens it, as though he feared he may cause a large disturbance by just unpacking. It was… odd. Watching him like this.

In their time together, building and operating the rebellion, she'd seen his usual forms of physical expression. Collected, but never afraid to be loud, assertive, or slam a fist to emphasize a point. He held the attention of a room as easily as he breathed, the trust and respect of those who listened even more so. A commander he was, in near every sense of the word. But here he knelt, moved, with great effort to make himself as small and unremarkable as possible. It felt like something she shouldn't be seeing. Nyxram folds her hands at the small of her back, and she turns her eyes elsewhere.

She watches the slow shift of debris beyond the silver planet’s gravitational reach. On the first island, she can see Zuron has wandered out of their shuttle. His smaller form stands beside Grax, and they seem to be talking. She allows herself to wonder what about.

Maybe the make of the archipelago--the driving force keeping the flora alive and the river on its path; that would interest Zuron. Or plans once they’d returned to homeworld; Grax had made passing remarks--mulling over meals he might make for Xi the next time they'd have dinner together. A long overdue night to themselves. She must be eager to have him for more than the time they spent asleep. The rebellion may have succeeded, but the demands of a new beginning were unending, the work never done. Traximus had barely managed to carve out what time he wanted, needed, for this.

“We didn’t have much.” Traximus’s voice comes through her receiver (the silence, perhaps, has become overwhelming). His tone is cautious, measured, and almost… timid? She didn’t quite have the word to describe it. “After… the arena was cleared out, I tried to search our old cells. His cell. ...I don’t know why; I guess I thought… I thought he may have stored something. --left… something I could find and bring here. But there wasn’t much about that life you’d want to hold onto. Nothing… worth the risk of hiding away.”

“Nothing material,” Nyxram said.

Traximus exhales. “...no.” A small pause. “No. …--but. He preferred the spear. It will do.”

Nyxram frowns, and she turns her head to him.

Traximus stood, the spear now in hand, facing the mound. The hand clenching the spear held it well. A trained, even grip. He’d wrapped a vibrant red cloth around the head of the spear just below where metal and wood connected, secured with a thick golden-threaded rope. Hanging from the center tassel was a single ‘drop’ of amber. Even in the limited light, it shone brilliantly.

“Why the spear?” Nyxram asked.

“Distance,” Traximus answered, “resourcefulness, or a make-shift shield. Sometimes a walking aid if something went wrong. …he preferred to out-last than he did to fight.”

Her brow wrinkled. “How is it that he found himself there, then?”

Traximus remains still, not looking at her. There’s anger in his low tone, searing the words when he speaks, “...sometimes, you just need fodder.”

She remains still and quiet as his open hand curls shut. Watches as it shivers by his side, claws biting through the gloves of his suit, and as his shoulders rise with on held breath. He steadies himself and steps forward.

Traximus places the blunt end of the spear against a fracture in the rock. He takes care to wedge it into place without disturbing surrounding roots, the cloth--without jostling the amber drop. Despite his efforts, his movements are stiff. His hands grip the spear tighter than they need to, and he growls--irritated--when the spear's end slips from its place. But he pauses, seems to steady himself a second time, and tries again. It's a delicate line between too gentle and too rough, and he's struggling to find the balance. Again, the blunt end slips. And again he stills before giving it another try.

The spear takes to the rock this time. Once certain it would stand on its own, he steps back and releases one hand. She waits, patient, but he doesn't release the other.

"Do," he breathes, suddenly (and there’s brittleness in his voice; like the slightest misstep in word choice will break it), "do you... know what it's like? Looking up. And realizing the room is... is cheering because you... because someone you..."

"...Traximus--"

"--do you?"

Sharper. But the veil of anger is gone. There's only pain.

"...no." It's a half-truth. Her room had been two. Not a stadium of hundreds. "I don't."

There's a long pause. She hears him exhale, slow and ragged through the receiver. His fingers adjust around the spear's staff. "You... were there that day. Weren't you?"

She's quiet.

"Up there," he continues, "with him."

She remembers.

"...was it a good show?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't know how.

Traximus swallows, a strained sound that their comms shouldn't pick up. "He should have won that day."

Something inside her hardens to steel. Whether he's speaking of Tilus or Zanramon, she can't tell. It worries her.

A silence stretches on. Then, only once his hand pries from the spear and drifts back to his side, does he speak again.

“Is it… daft of me to think we owe so much to him? To the turtles, even--to… --that I would never have…”

Nyxram frowns. “You feel their aid lessens what you’ve accomplished?”

“I let myself become a husk of everything I stood for," he said. "I didn't manage to find my way alone. Not like you.”

“You think I found my way alone?” She's surprised when her voice reveals how much his statement offends her. “Traximus. Just as you didn't emerge from your darkness until you met the turtles, I did not emerge from mine until I saw you throw your sword at Michelangelo's feet. --Should I be ashamed of this?”

Traximus pauses. He sighs, a heavy rush of air against the receiver. “I suppose not.”

He lifts the satchel back over his shoulder and adjusts the strap. Nyxram watches as he turns and starts back the way they came. There’s a new weight in his steps. A wilt in his posture that hadn’t been there before. An impulse strikes her--drives her to do--what? …something.

He's just passed her when she turns the word over on her tongue. It’s almost bitter.

“No.”

“Hm?” Traximus stops, turns his head.

Nyxram flexes her fingers. “The answer to your earlier question: …no. I’ve never mourned anyone.” Then, slowly. “...I was never made to think of it that way. …as ‘mourning’. So, I didn’t.”

He blinks, thrown off, and faces her in full. “How were you made to think?”

“A victory. I got to live.”

“...So did I.”

The words are unaccusatory and soft, not meant to be cruel. But they still sting. Nyxram looks away.

“Do you want to?” He asks.

She turns back, almost startled. Traximus opens one arm toward the mound. There’s a carefulness in his expression; a gentleness that bleeds through harsh lines brought by exhaustion and stress. It makes something deep within her ache.

“...it’s,” she hesitates, “…it’s been dozens of cycles, Traximus. Hundreds.”

“You’re suggesting this sort of thing has a time limit?”

“--no,” she says, perhaps quicker than she’d meant. She felt. …she felt disarmed, suddenly. It wasn’t a feeling she liked. “I mean to say I’ve had my chance.”

“...A time limit,” he repeats.

She growls, turning away again. Traximus huffed. For a moment, she thought the topic dropped. Then he asks again, “...do you want to?”

Nyxram tightens her jaw. She looks to him.

Her hand moves on its own, lifting to the knife strapped between her collar and shoulder. A flick of her thumb, and it comes loose from its sheath and slides like liquid into her palm. She pulls it free in a sweep of her arm (a gesture that would surely cause anyone who recognized her name to hold their breath; Traximus remains at ease). She steps forward to stand before the spear and mound.

The knife rotates in her palm. It catches the light, a glint that had been the last so many had seen. But it’s not the fine edges nor expertly crafted metals that hold her attention. It’s a detail no one would think or know to look for.

Her hands had been shaking that morning. The knife was something she’d grow into, and she hadn’t held it right--not like she’d been trained. Her misplaced fingers left room for blood to fall where it shouldn’t--where her future skin would catch it instead. A small section of handle had been exposed. There was one single, thin, strip of blood that she’d been careful to never wash away after all this time.

It wasn’t amber. Quite the opposite, actually.

Where amber could hold once-living things, a once-living thing had held this.

Again, Nyxram rotates the knife. It takes her a moment, but she finds a place between the roots and rock that will cause the least amount of damage. The knife slides into the coils until she feels them thicken, slowing the blade to a stop. Carefully, she lets it go and steps back.

Traximus moves to stand by her side.

“...what was their name?” When Traximus asks, his tone is just as soft as it had been before.

Nyxram shakes her head. “He never received one.” A pause. “Names are for things able to last, and he wasn't. --their. Words, not… not mine.”

She’s not sure why she felt the need to emphasize that.

Traximus hums. “It seems he has.”

Nyxram glances at him before she can think not to.

“Lasted, I mean,” he clarifies. He clears his throat. “You remember him. You… want to mourn him. That's lasting, isn't it?”

She looks back to the knife.

“...could you give him a name?” Again, the question is careful. He’s unsure if he’s treading where he shouldn’t. “You don’t have to.”

Nyxram can only breathe. It feels as though something in her chest is becoming undone. There’s an old emotion, one she’s never had a name for, clawing its way through her every fiber and bringing with it a sense of vulnerability that should be unforgivable. In standing here, in giving up the knife, in admitting she has someone to mourn at all, she is left bare and exposed. She's confused. Panicked?, even. What so many would give to capture her in even the smallest moment of weakness. But Traximus doesn’t strike.

“Thank you,” he says instead, “for coming out here today. Listening to me, even though... even... when I...”

He trails off, rounds to her other side and returns to the spear. “I’ll… --you know how our schedules are. When there's an opportunity to revisit, I will. You’re welcome to join, but there's no need. It's your decision.”

She watches as he reaches out, smoothing down the cloth’s folds, straightening the amber with a tender pinch of his fingers. He rests his palm on the spear’s head, and he goes still. She waits, half-expecting him to say something else, but he doesn't. He turns with a sigh and starts for the shuttle. Nyxram remains where she stands.

She waits until he’s reached the nearest coil of roots before turning her head to the spear. Her hand lifts as she takes a cautious step forward, and a finger taps the button on her helmet that disables her microphone. She refolds her hands at the small of her back.

She remembers that day. Zanramon summoned her back to the arena (remembers thinking it troublesome, annoying, a waste of her time--what twisted views of those soon to die). She remembers seeing the platform lift the two of them to the surface; Traximus, still large and imposing despite limited nutrition, and how much smaller Tilus had appeared by his side, his head only just reaching Traximus's collar. They'd all thought the only opponents that day would be a pack of starved leapers. She should have known by the creeping smirk on Zanramon's lips that they were wrong.

Was it a good show?

No. And made worse in that it was necessary for her. That only in seeing the knife fall--watching Traximus's face grow ghastly, hearing Zanramon laugh--did her eyes finally open and a cold awareness seep into her marrow. It hadn't just been wrong, it'd been monstrous. Abhorrent. She'd retreated to her quarters that night, shaken, disturbed, and ashamed. For cycles, Traximus had voiced his disagreements and concerns with Zanramon's direction, choices, priorities--only to be brushed aside and belittled, and finally enslaved. It shouldn't have taken that to realize that they'd long crossed a line. To realize, for certain, she wanted nothing to do with the old regime.

“...thank you, Tilus.” The softness in her voice surprises her. “You saw him first. Believed in him before the rest of us thought to listen. That was our mistake... one you should not have paid for.”

She extends a hand but stops just short of the spear’s metal. Her fingers close. She lowers her hand to her side and sighs. “...Rest now.”

“Nyxram?” Traximus’s voice comes through her receiver.

She taps the button for her microphone. “Yes, I’m coming.”

She walks to the roots, eyes focused ahead, and falls into step behind him.

He slows until she walks at his side.

[tailoroffates]

Anxiety Brain Fog and Tips to Defeat it!

Hey-hi! I’m back again to chat about yet another aspect of anxiety!  Anxiety brain fog… Anxiety brain fog can happen when a person is feeling anxious and it causes difficulty thinking clearly/concentrating. It’s common to experience brain fog when dealing with stressful situations, or while an individual experiences high stress in general. So, why does anxiety cause brain fog? Well, it typically happens because anxiety takes up a lot of mental resources. This makes it so people need to use more energy while trying to focus on anything other than that anxiety, which is why it makes it so difficult to concentrate or think clearly.

Symptoms of anxiety brain fog include:

Fatigue

An inability to organize thoughts or activities performed

Feeling confused or “spaced out”

Being easily distracted

Forgetfulness, or a constant loss of your train of thought

Having difficulty finding the right words

Processing thoughts slower than usual

Forgetting about a task you need to complete

Needing more time to complete basic tasks

So basically, anxiety brain fog creates a forgetful mental state affected by your anxiety. The more anxious you get, the harder it becomes to focus. It usually happens when you go to do something that you know makes you anxious, and it makes preparing for that task much harder than it needs to be. There are other causes for anxiety brain fog, meaning things that can make it more likely to affect you. These are:

Neurological conditions, like head injuries or dementia.

Some chronic illnesses

Dehydration, hunger, or vitamin deficiencies

Drugs and alcohol

Certain medications, like chemotherapy or mood stabilizers.

So the gist of the situation is, if it isn’t anxiety induced then you should do your best to take good care of yourself and if that doesn’t help, seek out medical attention that could provide better answers for your condition. Now, since the brain fog is a symptom and not a medical diagnosis there is no treatment for it that I am aware of. Though, managing the anxiety or the conditions causing the brain fog may help. I’m no medical professional or therapist, but as a fellow struggler of anxious tendencies, I happen to have a few tips to help you along the way.

My tips: 1.  Make a checklist and actively run through it before heading out to ensure you don’t stray off track. 2. Try to prepare ahead of time, or leave the things you need near the door where you can see them. Sometimes visual cues can help to re-spark your memory and clear the fog enough to set you back on the right path. 3.  Work on methods to slow or calm your anxiety. Giving your brain less to focus on can help redirect your attention towards what you need, instead of what you’re afraid of or anxious about. The tips I mentioned above are my personal methods of clearing, or at the very least, working through my own anxiety brain fog. I hope this information helps you find your own path to victory VS the foggy brain feels <3 Unfortunately, that’s all I have for you today, but for those of you who have your own tips for working through anxiety brain fog, I’d love to hear about them and how they help you in the comments or tags! Sharing is caring!

[lemeute]

fic stat game

rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the fewest words.

tagged by @arafinwes!!

first-most hits: that would be And You Find Some Way to Survive. this fic is from april 2017, at which point I'd been fucked up about Takashi Shirogane from Voltron: Legendary Defender for about six months. unfortunately for him, I needed a character onto whom I could project my feelings about teaching, grad school, and being the only one emotionally responsible for various teenagers. he also had space trauma so this was like. perhaps not very fair to him. but in this fic he doesn't have space trauma yet!! only "my mentee is dealing with a Crisis that I don't have the resources to fix" trauma!!

second-most kudos: fdjksljf apparently Conditional Acceptance, which I think of as a companion fic to the above. more of the teaching projection, less of the Crisis vibes. I think these two are at the top in part because Voltron fandom was so big compared to my other fandoms, and also in part because the specific flavor of gen they are picked up readers on both sides of the Big Ship War

(sneaking in a shoutout to Severance, a Tatooine-centric Star Wars prequel fic which has the third-most kudos, because I'm still fond of it and the oneshot series it's part of, oh rise with me forever)

third-most comments: also a Voltron fic, because when I sort by comments the top sixteen are Voltron. If You Trust Me is abandoned after three chapters, and is also one of the few ship fics I've ever attempted (there may be a correlation). it's an Disney!Aladdin fusion, and I got sucked into writing it because of a stray "cut off your hand for stealing" reference in the movie; Shiro is canonically missing a hand, and I canonically cannot resist a fic idea that? involves amputation????* but despite this bewildering quirk of my personality please do not be alarmed; the fic is cute, what there is of it. my favorite thing about it is that a minor character who goes missing at the start of canon has been transformed by a curse into the flying carpet, and this is also a pun.

(*uh. there is also a prequel to this fic, Try To Try Hard. which is perhaps not so cute.)

fourth-most bookmarks: for a second I thought this was the same fic as above and I was like wow sorry everybody but NO, it just starts with the same word! If Only In My Dreams is. also Voltron. it is CHRISTMAS WHUMP IN SPACE.

fifth-most words: And You Find Some Way to Survive puts in a second appearance here (at 8,354 words if you're curious)

fewest words: ok look the one with the fewest words is a 72-word prompt fill that I didn't really like even at the time and I am simply going to link you the third-fewest words, because A of all it is still only 166 words and B of all I got only Voltron for all the other answers even though I've written for So Many Things and so I think I should be allowed little a Picking. as a treat. and C of all because and now my heart stumbles is Eomer and Eowyn, who are SIBLINGS and the bestest bravest darlings and all should love them. ok there you go.

with this set of results I think it is only appropriate that I should tag some of my VLD-era writing pals @curiosity-killed @demenior @lookforanewangle and then I will also add @kcrabb88 and @amarguerite :) if anyone else would enjoy doing this please grab it and feel free to say I tagged you!!!

[meilunye]

✧.* crumpled paper

✧ Characters: Scaramouche & Lumine (not necessarily ship) ✧ Written for: V4. Fortune - The Genshin RNG Zine ✧ Word count: 2,4k ✧ Fortune chosen: “Every flower blooms in its own sweet time.”

Lumine finds the Wanderer in the midst of a dilemma.

In the long months she had spent roaming the surface and underworld of Teyvat, Lumine had uncovered countless secrets: hidden cults, ancient civilizations buried under sand and moss alike, mysterious signs of fate most people failed to decode.

Over time, she had grown used to it. Some enigmas were easy to unfold, while some required time and effort she couldn’t afford to spend dwelling on them. She let the course of her quests guide them through the thickest tangles of the world, turning a blind eye to the deeper unknown.

And yet, what confused her the most was a simpler matter. Something utterly trivial that ought not to be as infuriating as it was. And so, despite the feats Lumine could boast in her record, she failed to see why, exactly, the majority of citizens considered Adventurers as their personal shoppers.

Alright, sure, she wasn’t expecting to seek gold or hunt gods when signing up for daily tasks from the Guild. Yet, spending her summer days collecting fruit and shrooms for a local villager who was just a tad too lazy to walk out of town was somewhat unnerving.

“One more mushroom, and that should be it for the day,” she muttered. Not even Paimon had chosen to tag along, preferring the comfort of their inn bed to nap on rather than dirtying her hands with mushroom picking in Avidya Forest. “At least I’m getting paid.”

Right as she was lost in her greedy thoughts, her mind racing to the delicious lunch she was planning to enjoy later in the morning, something fell on her head. Lumine glanced at her feet. A crumpled paper ball was resting between her boots, like an alien object plunging from the sky.

Was it a scrapped page from a Forest Ranger’s notebook? The rainforest was their scouting territory, after all. Maybe they were conducting some research higher up on the tallest tree branches. And, of course, the only stray piece of junk had to land on her.

“Just my luck.” She collected the tiny ball and stored it in her bag, to dispose of later. “Now, where to find the last mushroom…”

Her gaze ran up to inspect the majestic trunk of the centuries-old tree. The next wooden platform awaited her further up, probably brimming with hedges and herbs of all sorts. With a resigned sigh, Lumine climbed up the ladder, the breeze howling as it caressed her bare thighs.

A patch of dirt lay at the side of the wooden platform, where mushrooms peeked from behind thick leaves. Lumine shoved her hands into the soil, pulling at one of them to rip it from the ground, and held it fierily in her palms. She was done, at last.

Something feather-light fell on her head again. Followed by a second, and a third. Okay, now it started to look less like a coincidence and more like harassment. Lumine glared at the foliage above her, expecting to find a mocking hilichurl or a similar prankster.

What met her gaze, instead, was a pair of familiar sandals and a disgruntled complaint. What was he doing out there on his own? Not quite the encounter Lumine had foreseen for her morning walk in the forest.

Although every muscle and nerve in her body advised her against getting any closer, Lumine had never been known for her use of logic. She followed her gut and silently pulled herself onto the branch the man was sitting on.

“How odd to find you anywhere without the Archon.” Lumine dropped down at his side, not bothering to get permission first. Old foes did not owe each other kindness. “Something on your mind?”

Scaramouche— No, the Wanderer, as he now went by, was not responsive. A scowl was all the reaction he had to offer to the uninvited guest, his hand busy frantically scribbling on the white page of a notebook. Ah, so he was the culprit.

Stubborn (and quite honestly out of better things to do), Lumine didn’t leave. She stayed there, humming a tune under her breath and kicking her feet in the air, while waiting for any sign of acknowledgment to come. The Wanderer was headstrong, but she made for a good rivalry.

And she won the unspoken contest.

“What do you want?” The Wanderer turned to face her after what felt like ages, dropping the notebook on the branch between his knees. Most of the pages seemed to have been ripped out already. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

Lumine shrugged. “I’m done with my work. Some unidentified flying objects were hindering my job, however.” She took the paper ball out of her bag and showed it to him, a cocky smirk on her lips.

“Ah, that.” Showing no apology whatsoever, the Wanderer averted his gaze again. “Do not blame me. You shouldn’t lower your guard while roaming the forest.”

A roll of Lumine’s eyes marked the end of that poor attempt at conversing. Even though socializing had never been an issue for her, given her popularity wherever she went, introverts like the Wanderer were her weak spot.

There was a difference, for her, between dealing with quiet folks such as Kazuha, who became talkative when solicited, and with adamant walls like the Wanderer. Those who weren’t sure when or how to speak, be it out of shyness or politeness, were more manageable than those who refused to do so.

Silence fell for a long time.

Lumine kept her gaze over the horizon. Groups of Aranara were playing among the leaves, visible only to her and a lucky few others. The wind from the shores carried the gentle echo of birdsong. Ah, she should head back soon. Paimon might have woken up by now.

Surprisingly enough, it was the Wanderer who broke the silence first.

“In your travels, you’ve certainly met all kinds of people,” he whispered, indigo eyes glued to the page he was scribbling on. “And I’ve witnessed firsthand the number of requests for help you receive on an average day. What makes people worthy of being lent a hand, in your book?”

Lumine pressed her lips together. “I am not sure about that,” she admitted with a weak shake of her head. The question was genuinely surprising coming from him. “But everyone is worthy of being listened to, at the very least.”

“I see.” The Wanderer lifted his head, finally looking at something that was not his notebook. Rukkhashava mushrooms shimmered in the sunlight on the tree in front of them. “Even ancient foes?”

Well, Lumine wasn’t as dumb as not to catch on. “If you want my help, why don’t you just ask?” she considered saying, but scratched the idea. Direct approaches would hardly work with someone like him. “I said everyone for a reason.”

As if his doubts were thawed at once, the Wanderer opened up to her in one single waterfall of words, like water breaching through a dam. And it was oddly pleasant to hear honesty pouring out of his mouth.

“I came here to escape from the Dendro Archon, actually,” he explained.

Lumine held her knees to her chest, her head tilted to pay utmost attention to what he was saying. “Did you fight?”

“Nah,” he shrugged indignantly. “I’m merely exhausted to have her disappointment haunting me like a ghost.”

From what Lumine had seen and learned so far, disappointment was not a common emotion for Nahida. Was the Wanderer showing struggles in his rehabilitation progress, or threatening to fall back into old destructive habits? He didn’t seem harmful, however. He was on his best behavior. “What is she unhappy with?”

“My thesis?” The Wanderer showed her the product of his work. Paragraphs written in clumsy handwriting crowded the page, thoroughly stricken through by thick ink lines. “I mentioned last time that she enrolled me in the Akademiya. It’s weirdly entertaining, but… these papers. I can’t seem to get them right.”

Writing wasn’t Lumine’s forte either. She was the brawns more than the brains, whereas her brother excelled at a bit of both. “I’m sure she knows you aren’t well-versed in prose. You’ve never attended a proper school, nor received scholastic education before.”

“That’s not the only issue.” The Wanderer ripped off the page with a groan, crumpled it in his hand, and tossed it off the branch.

Lumine caught it before it could go too far, though, using her brand-new Hydro powers to trap it in a bubble. “Stop littering the forest.”

“Quiet.” Another grunt, then a sigh. “Even after resetting the past and erasing my previous existence, I cannot find my place amidst the crowd. Every day, the Archon watches me return from class alone, as quiet as a stranded fish on the shore.”

What weird comparison was that? It must be something he stole from Nahida and her out-of-line analogies. “And?”

“And,” he echoed, frustration visibly piling up within him, “every day she asks me with that annoying little smile, ‘Wanderer, how is it going with your fellow students?’. Damn it, the gloomy look on her face when I say I don’t talk to them… Ugh, so irritating.”

Too bad Lumine could see right through him. He was sad, more than annoyed. “How does it make you feel?”

“My chest clenches, and it pisses me off.” The Wanderer scoffed. “I don’t even know what it means. I hate feelings. Pointlessly complicated to understand, and with far too many strings attached.”

A peal of laughter shook Lumine’s torso at that. Oh, how to believe the person sitting at her side was an ancient magical being, a former criminal, and a convicted murderer? His attitude towards himself and his emotions was akin to an immature child’s.

It would be endearing, were it not for the past they shared. Some things could be explained and understood, perhaps even mended… but not forgiven nor forgotten.

However, Lumine wasn’t as selfish as to deny advice to a forlorn soul in need.

“What haunts you is probably the guilt for letting her down,” she explains, patiently, with the calm of a teacher. “Even if Nahida does not enforce any expectation on you, you built some for yourself. You’re convinced that failure to succeed and excel will lead to her disappointment.”

An ominous glare came her way. “I do not recall asking for counseling,” the Wanderer spat. “Save your wit for those helpless adventurers who get surrounded by hilichurls on the daily.”

“You’d better listen to my unsolicited advice, instead.” Lumine rolled her eyes and sagely chose to ignore his remark. “I see two possible solutions to your issue. One, you talk to Nahida openly about your concerns, and let her soothe them in person.”

Sometimes, being told to her face that people still have hope for her is all it takes to clear up the stress that made a dozen nights sleepless. She did not know whether or not the same applied to the Wanderer— judging from his disgusted grimace, though, it was likely a no.

“No, thank you.”

“Of course,” Lumine nodded. She should have seen that coming, indeed. “Two, you let it slide and keep walking your path. And you accept that, in the end, it will be alright.”

The Wanderer groaned. “That’s such simplistic talk. If anyone could manipulate their worries on demand like this, there wouldn’t be a single unhappy soul roaming Teyvat.”

Ah, so it did bother him, after all. If direct suggestions were not the Wanderer’s cup of tea, Lumine could try another approach: analogies worked well with Klee, the most naive among her acquaintances. Hopefully, he would appreciate them too.

“During my days in Mondstadt, I often listened to the bards singing their hearts out at the inn and plazas.” Lumine stretched out her legs as she stared absent-mindedly at the tips of her boots. Her gaze was actually aiming farther, farther ahead: to the bygone days in the land of breeze.

The Wanderer did not dare to interrupt her tale. He was fidgety, nervously shifting on the branch and sketching frantically on the corner of the notebook page.

“One poem in particular is carved into my heart. It’s the story of a pear blossom, still unripe and closed amidst an ocean of white petals.” She closed her eyes, trying to recall the gist of the plot. “All of its friends had bloomed before it. Left behind on its own, it tried and tried to be like them— it pushed its limits, and ended up exhausted and more lost than when it had begun.”

The Wanderer frowned. “Flowers don’t have feelings.”

“The blossom felt inferior and miserable,” Lumine cut him off. “It thought, ‘if every other pear flower on the tree has already bloomed, why I alone am unable to?’. Night after night, its insecurities tore it to pieces.”

The Wanderer lowered his gaze. At last, the true meaning behind Lumine’s story was sinking in. “Then what?”

“Then, one day, its moment came,” she continued, happy to see his engagement. “As the spring sun rose above the horizon, the blossom opened its petals to catch its warm rays. And, though it was late and self-conscious, its corolla shone the brightest on the whole tree.”

The notebook slammed shut. The Wanderer rested his palm above its cover, a deadpan expression painted on his face. “Nonsense,” he commented.

“Perhaps,” Lumine chuckled. “Regardless of the metaphor, I do believe everyone has their own pace. As long as you don’t lose sight of your goal and keep persevering, eventually, your moment of glory will come.”

There was also a solid chance that, simply enough, academic life was not suited for the Wanderer. But in Lumine’s book, such a realization would also fall within the spectrum of blooming: he would find new aspirations, talents, and dreams.

“I must go.” The Wanderer stood up, weightless on the branch. “I hope you don’t expect a thank you for your sob story about blossoms and bards.”

Lumine sighed. Oh, if only he knew how easy he was to read… Ever since he had turned into his current self, freed from his past identity and tragedy, he had been wearing his heart on his sleeve. Even if, maybe, only someone as sharp as Lumine could pierce through his facade.

When she glanced up, she was alone once more. Only a crumpled paper ball lay solitary at her side.

A shy gust of wind combed through her hair in a playful dance.

“Heh, you’re welcome.”

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

Okay, but consider: Rex is caught in a time loop on Umbara, as the only one

TW for Umbara's everything, except I traumatize Rex even further. I intend this to be something of a fix-it or at least hopeful, but like, there's implied suicidal thoughts and. lots of um. Heavy Angst. ask to tag please

The first time is horrible. Like. canon. Then he wakes up again at the beginning of the campaign and-

He's wary, and tries to tell himself that it's a dream. He knows it's not. He tries to change things but it doesn't end up too different than before.

He wakes up again. What's going on? He's still trying not to aggravate Krell too much, these lightsabers tearing through his men still haunting his dreams. He stands his ground more often than not but it's a dangerous game - again he loses.

He wakes up again. This must be some sick joke. Fives and Jesse - they know something is up. He tries to save as many men as he can, tries to stop the friendly fire before it can really begin - not much changes. It's him that kills Krell, but at what cost?

He wakes up again. He barely gets to his feet. He can't see themm all die again. He goes regardless, because what if he makes a difference this time? What if he manages to save them? The time loop is irrelevant as long as he gets another chance. He fails.

He wakes up again. Nothing works. He doesn't want to get his brothers killed, but he loses control of himself. Appo takes him aside, puts him on the side lines for this - they don't want to risk losing Rex. Everyone is worried. Rex just stumbles along like it's a fever dream. (If only.) Few things change.

He wakes up again. He just wants to scream. He tries a more offensive approach - Krell nearly loses his temper then and there. A part of him wonders if it would be better now than later, when even more have died. It sends the same as any other time.

He wakes up again. He doesn't have the energy to fight anymore. It's no use. But then Krell sends them against the 212th again - he snaps, he stops it from happening, and he directly confronts Krell once more. He refuses to back down. Krell reveals himself and - this time, Rex ends the day with a lightsaber through his guts.

He wakes up again. He can barely keep himself upright. He keeps feeling the phantom pains of his death - he keeps trying to push through. Nothing works out.

He wakes up again. He doesn't even try anymore.

He wakes up again. He can't do this anymore. He barely registers what's happening - he knows how it ends anyway. He struggles to separate this time from all the previous ones. He it hit by a stray bolt; Kix makes it to him just in time to see him die. At least this time he doesn't have to watch everyone else die.

He wakes up again. He barely speaks, drinks, does anything more than going through the needed motions to appear alive. He won't talk to anyone concerned about him. He can't do this anymore. However this ends - he just wants it to end. It doesn't.

He wakes up again. He shoots Krell on sight. Except Krell reflects the bolts back to him - Rex dies laughing and under the horrified gazes of everyone around him. What use is there in carrying on?

He wakes up again. His body refuses to get up. He doesn't care either way. Skywalker pries out of him what's up - it's a long and gruelling process, but the Force tells him that Rex speaks the truth. They try to change things, but even Anakin knows he can't just attack Krell like that. He still has a hard time actually believing it, too. He sends Ahsoka instead of himself and stays, and they end up with less casualties.

Then he gets called to the battle above the capital in an Umbaran fighter - he's the best pilot, after all. Rex stays, and it's going so well - but everything keeps gnawing at him, his living nightmares keep resurfacing, he crashes.

It's an Umbaran that hits him, but at least he now has an idea of how it might work. Maybe, if he's lucky, the time loop breaks when he saves them.

He wakes up again. Approaches Skywalker directly. Krell is greatly displeased when he sticks around and... it seems to work. And still, when Anakin is forced into the medbay, he sends them against the 212th. But Rex knows. He tells his men, has them marching without helmets on. They don't start firing and got to arrest Krell. This time, they have Skywalker on their side - and Krell still murders many of them, but only a fraction of the casualties of the other times. They execute him for treason - and with a Jedi on their side.

Then he wakes up again.

And for a horrible moment he thinks it's all starting again, it's not ending - before he notices he's still at the post they set up.

He stopped caring a long time ago, and as the realization hits that it's over and they made it and they're still alive he starts laughing and crying almost hysterically because... because they're alive.

And it's finally over.

[queenaeducan]

tagged by @kittynomsdeplume​!! tysm!

this is the first pass at a conversation with solas and thora from my deep roads field trip fanfic. it’s dwarf-elf solidarity time babey

Making camp is less of a production so long as it is just the two of them. A humble fire marks the centre, small enough to reach across without the flames licking his wrist. Thora labours beside it, carving deep mushrooms with a fine knife. Every so often her foot sweeps out, drawing away the shavings that fall too close to the flame.

As she toils over the fire, he sets wards around the perimeter. The rock here does not resist his magic as it did nearer the Titan. It sinks into the stone, the outline glowing a molten gold before fading slowly. Each lie differently in the earth, unique to the square inch it occupies. Should anything approach, he will know from which direction.

“This must bring back memories, huh?” Thora asks from across the camp. “I’m guessing you used to do this thing all the time when you travelled alone.”

“I relied upon them whenever I could not trust the ground I slept on.” Solas stands to admire his work, joints cracking with effort. As he casts his gaze about their surroundings he catches a glint of magic where his wards were set, fleeting as light off fish scales. Thora’s eyes wait for his, glowing with a light of their own. “It took time before I could sleep in Inquisition camps without their presence.

“You set them around our camps?”

“Discreetly. Before it was certain it was safe.” In those early months his sleep came by him slowly, jumping in his bedroll when someone strayed too close to his tent canvas. “It all felt… precarious, and I, a mage with no Chantry ties… you understand.”

She grimaces. “Yeah. I get it.” Thora sits with the thought a moment, then pats the spot beside her in invitation.

Solas doesn’t need to be invited twice. He joins her by the fire, warming his hands by its light. His magic has been all but burned from its heart, but what little remains leans over to greet him, bathing his fingers in a cadmium glow.

“What made you decide to stop using them?”

“I never intended to. Each night I used them and woke up unscatched was proof of their efficacy. Yet I recall, once, as we sheltered from a storm, resting my head against my bag. Just for a moment. I lay listening to raindrops ricocheting off the cliff face and soft conversation, barely mumbled above the sound of the sky falling around us. As the subject turned to Kirkwall the words grew distant, but even half-veiled in dreams I could not mistake the voice of a homesick man. When I awoke in one piece, with your vigil my only shield, it wore a hole in my own defenses. The precautions I took grew more difficult to justify, at least so long as I travelled in good company.”

A little smile just barely touches her lips. Yet he sees a thought stick in her head, stubborn as the flecks of mushroom that cling to the cheek of her blade. She taps them off into the pot, polishing off her knife with the cloth draped over her knee.

“You know,” she says, turning the mushrooms about in the pot until they’re coated with a film of oil, “I don’t hear you talk about ‘home’ too often.”

“There’s little to say. When my heart yearns from home, it does not turn to a singular place, per se.” He draws his hands back from the flame, cradling them against his ribcage. They glow with a pink heat beside his heart. “There is a phrase in Elvhen: lathbora viran. Do you know what it means?”

“Lath-bo-ra vir-an, lathbora viran…” Thora speaks the word as though she’s tasting wine. “The path of lost love?”

“Close. But remember our lessons: there is meaning to be parsed beyond the initial meaning of each word. What you intend to say matters more than what was actually said.”

“Lathbora viran.” She goes quiet, eyes shut as she listens. To his perspective the only sound is the echo of the phrase bouncing around the walls and the low sizzle of dinner over the fire, but the Well speaks in whispers too low for his waking mind. “It’s talking about Elvhenan, isn’t it?”

“In part. It is the memory of a place we will never know, which has been forever lost to us, and yet we long to return to. Though we may strive to remember, remember is all we will ever do.”

tagging: @mercenarysexuality, @rosella-writes, @dreadfutures, @mxkelsifer, @gaysolavellan, @fiadhaisteach, @bluewren, @darethshirl, @inquisimer, @effelants, @theshirallen​

anyone who wants to share a wip (of any kind!) feel free to tag me tho