#Pain Treatment Comparison

[surinderbhalla]

Herbal vs Medical Treatments for Chronic Pain: What Works?

Chronic pain affects more than 20% of adults globally and 10% are newly diagnosed with chronic pain each year. There is hope, though, as it is a leading focus for innovative treatments. These treatments can significantly enhance quality of life. Herbal vs Medical Treatments for Chronic Pain: What Works? With the search for effective pain relief on the rise, many individuals are exploring diverse…

[captainjonnitkessler]

Another weekend, another trip to FUCKING URGENT CARE

[cowboyjimkirk]

my jaw has been continuing to hurt, so i checked out r/TMJ and scared myself 😳

[zevrans-remade]

they should invent a toothache that doesn't make u want to slam ur own head into a wall 🙃

[keplercryptids]

common myths about migraines (AKA if you get headaches regularly, please seek treatment for migraines)

"i don't have migraines because while i get them several times a week, it's only when i am hungry or dehydrated."

those are probably migraines. thirst, hunger, sleep disturbances, or any disruption to routine are common migraine triggers.

"my headaches are specifically barometric related, i get them when the weather/altitude changes."

those are probably migraines. barometric pressure is a common migraine trigger.

"i get headaches all the time but ibuprofen gets rid of them so they can't be migraines."

that's not true. ibuprofen works great at relieving migraine pain for many people.

"my consistent headaches are tension headaches. i feel them originate in my neck/shoulders."

those are probably migraines. muscle tension is a common migraine trigger.

if you are regularly getting headaches (once a week or more), you are likely getting migraines. in fact, a good rule of thumb if you're consistently getting headaches is to treat them as migraines until you can rule out migraines. that's how common "chronic headache = migraine" actually is.

migraines are a neurological disorder wherein pain is one symptom. pain is often the MAIN symptom, and the most noticeable symptom, which can make diagnosis tricky. other symptoms of migraine include:

fatigue

nausea/vomiting

digestive issues

visual disturbances (auras)

sensitivity to light and/or sound

mood changes

brain fog/cognitive changes

ringing in the ears

dizziness/vertigo

numbness/weakness on one side of the body

this list is NOT complete, but is a starting point. i really like the comparison to a hangover. if you generally feel hungover when you get a headache (without having consumed alcohol), that's a classic migraine presentation.

so many people suffer from migraine and don't even know it, so they aren't able to advocate for themselves to get treatment. there are great new migraine treatments on the market! if you're able, please seek treatment for your migraines. a better quality of life is possible.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Giant! König Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Creep! König, Perverted! König, König Owns a Cum Jar, Size Difference, Giant! König, Size Kink, Sadistic! König, Abuse of Power, Dub-Con, Cum Soaking, Attempts at Forced Impregnation, Implied Pregnancy, Voyeurism, Hostage Situation, Human Pet! Reader, Physical Violence, Human! Reader, Fem! Reader.

Giant! König captures you after he catches you sneaking around his castle, trying to loot something of value to take back to your impoverished village.

Giant! König immediately jumps at the opportunity to take you as his human pet, throwing you into a nearby jar and closing the lid, observing you like a spider beneath a glass.

Giant! König who, after deciding he wants to keep you long-term instead of turning your body into the sprinkles atop his ice cream, creates a more sustainable living space for you after discovering you’re not as durable as he thought (almost suffocating, dehydrating, and starving to death whilst being held in that damn jar).

Giant! König surprises you with a dollhouse of his own design: a door that locks from the outside, windows too small for you to crawl through, and walls made of a material too strong for your tiny utensils to burrow through.

Giant! König doesn’t take long to start using you for his own pleasure – almost like he has no other outlet; like he was just waiting for this opportunity to come.

Giant! König who, whenever he feels like punishing you, puts you in The Jar and stares you down whilst stroking his cock, gigantic even in comparison to other giants’. He grunts, berating you, telling you how he’d “Fill you with my cock if you weren’t so small – bet I could crush you with it if I wanted to.”

When he’s ready, he cums into the jar – all over you – thick and heavy, almost drowning you with just one spurt of his load.

He loves watching you struggle to keep your head above the viscous pool he’s trapped you in as you literally swim in his semen, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to “Get me out, please!”.

He’ll often leave you in there without clothes to try and teach you a lesson. Until it turns into another reason – to breed you – which you accidentally sparked in him when you told him to be careful! You’ll end up getting me pregnant!

Giant! König can’t get your words out of his head, the primal urges he’s suppressed for so long unearthed by your pleas for him to spare you, if only once.

Giant! König knows he’s way too big to fit inside you, so this –  cumming profusely into a jar he’s encased you in whilst giving you no means of refusing his attempts – is the next best thing.

Giant! König gets off on the sheer size difference between the two of you  – the fact that you’re entirely dependent on him for your survival. Makes him feel like the kind of giant he’s supposed to be; strong and well-seeded.

Giant! König lays awake at night and fantasises about having a family, a far-off dream until you came along. It’s all he can think about as the image of you, his tiny wife, swollen to an almost painful degree as you bear his children, floods his mind, makes his cock twitch – harden. He resists the urge to relieve himself of this burden, preferring to save every ounce of his seed for you rather than wasting even a drop of it.

Giant! König who, despite his…questionable treatment of you, does try to treat you well. He lets you eat as much as you want, both because he knows you come from a poor background and because he has to keep you healthy to bear his offspring — especially since he knows they’ll be quite big compared to you.

Giant! König enjoys questioning you about your life before him, how humans work, what they do all day, whether the stereotypes of them all being lustful, pride-driven,  creatures are true.

If you validate any part of this stereotype, he’ll use that as an excuse to sink you in even more of his cum, to subject you to the task of sitting on his cock (horizontally, might I add) while he commands you to get yourself off by humping the shaft.

Man’s had no outlet for basicall all his life – he’s feral.

Giant! König loves to watch you while you’re tucked up in your dollhouse, observing everything you do. Humans are a rarity in the Giant Lands, so to have one in his home is a mythic occurrence.

Giant! König loves showing you off; he thrives on the reaction he gets when his friends see you. You’re, as stated before, a rarity in their parts, often used as a delicacy rather than a pet since humans aren’t particularly sturdy compared to giants, so managing to keep one alive is something of a status symbol in itself; the mark of a truly capable mate (hence captive humans are often given as courting gifts between giants).

However, König is also highly protective of you – especially after he caught Horangi (another giant he’d been showing you off to) goading you – harassing you – stroking his cock, telling you to “Lick the tip. Never felt a human tongue before.”

Needless to say, König never invited him around again after that.

Giant! König is, obviously, good with his hands and technical know-how. Thus, if his method of soaking you in his semen doesn’t work when trying to knock you up, he’ll create some unlawful contraption to make it inevitable.

Despite his size, König has managed to make a tiny glass syringe that he’s packed with his cum, holding you down easily with one hand as he presses the tip to your entrance, pumping you full of his seed.

He struggles to contain how the scene – the feeling – of you trying desperately to fight him off, to stop him from filling you, makes him feel. You have to watch the bulge between his legs grow as the feeling of being filled past full overcome you.

Giant! König does this as many times as he likes until he knows his seed’s taken, when you start showing. Which, considering how big his offspring will be, is pretty early on.

He definitely makes maternity clothes for you – comfortable garments that show the swell of your stomach as the weeks crawl by into months.

Giant! König loves bathing you, too. Especially after he’s covered you in his cum.

There’s something so intimate and gentle about it – a scarcity in the Giant Lands. Having something so small and fragile in his hands, knowing that he can crush you in his grip at any moment, makes him feel…responsible. Trustworthy.

Giant! König will never let you go, btw. You can try to run as much as you want, but he’ll always catch up to you, his human pet.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[maaarine]

r/TwoXChromosomes: Every date I’ve had this month has attempted to choke me when we make out

—

Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny (Kate Manne, 2017)

"Often incorrectly called “choking,” non-fatal manual strangulation is inherently dangerous.

It can lead to death hours, days, even weeks afterward due to complications from the brain being deprived of oxygen.

It also causes injuries to the throat that may not leave a mark (Snyder 2015).

If you don’t know how to examine a victim’s throat, what to look for in her eyes (red spots, called “petechiae”), and the right questions to ask, it may seem no harm has come of it (Turkel 2008).

The matter will often go no further. She may not seek medical treatment. The incident will be “shrouded in silence” (Dotson 2011, 244).

Sometimes, she won’t wake up the next morning, or some morning hence.

Moreover, victims of a non-fatal attack of this kind have also been found to be some seven times more likely to become the victim of an attempted homicide by the same perpetrator (Strack, McClane, and Hawley 2001).

Yet many states in America do not have a specific statute making strangulation a crime (relegating it to a simple assault; typically a misdemeanor) (Turkel 2008).

Strangulation is a prevalent form of intimate partner violence, in addition to sometimes taking place within other family relationships.

It doesn’t appear to be limited to certain geographical areas; its existence tends to be confirmed wherever data are available. (…)

Another point to note: strangulation is torture.

Researchers draw a comparison between strangulation and waterboarding, both in how it feels—painful, terrifying—and its subsequent social meaning.

It is characterized as a demonstration of authority and domination (Sorenson, Joshi, and Sivitz 2014).

As such, together with its gendered nature, it is a type of action paradigmatic of misogyny, according to the account of it I develop in these pages.

Also characteristic is the indifference or ignorance surrounding the practice, as well as the fact that many of its victims will minimize—or may, as I’ll go on to discuss shortly, be gaslit (Abramson 2014; McKinnon 2017)."

[strawberry-whorecake]

Hopeless | K.R.

pairing: Kylo Ren x fem!reader

summary: Love? Kylo Ren wasn’t in love… was he? How could he be in love? How could someone like you make him feel like this?

word count: 4.4k

warnings: fluff, slight graphic depictions, swearing, kylo ren is in denial

requested by: @artemiscrios

A/N: i’m sorry this request took so long but i hope you like it !!! if you’re interested i’d be more than willing to make a pt 2 that includes smut- this prompt just felt so fitting to be a fluff

He was utterly kriffed.

He was Supreme Leader of the First Order— the man single-handedly going to bring justice to the galaxy. He was strong… powerful.

Yet here he was. And here you were. 

He remembered how everything had started.

“Eat.” he ordered, he couldn’t help the demanding tone in his voice as he looked at you. 

You sat with your back to him, refusing to look at him. “I’m not hungry.” you retorted. 

His eye twitched, but even though you wouldn’t turn to him his mask concealed it anyway. “You haven’t eaten in four days.” 

“I’m not eating anything you bring me.” you spat. 

Gods he wished you would just give in. To stop resisting him. 

With a quick-drawn and sharp inhale he keeled forward, placing the tray on the floor of your cell. He watched as your head turned ever so slightly, peering from the corner of your eyes over your shoulder. He stood to his full height, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“You’d be wise to do as you’re told. You’re not going anywhere. You have nowhere to go.” 

He’d almost thought he’d imagined it… but no. It was there. That ever so soft sniffle that gently echoed off the walls. He stood utterly still for a moment, swallowing down the urge to huff as his eye twitched again.

“Eat.” he mustered up once more. Hands still clasped behind his back he swiveled and exited your cell, his composure as collected as ever. 

But Kylo didn’t want to admit it… you enveloped him. 

He remembered your first night upon the Finalizer you were rowdy, kicking and screaming, baring your teeth and snarling. Combative. Your second day wasn’t much different. He could feel your indignation— your anger. 

The third day greeted him with the silent treatment, your newfound attempt at torturing him since you discovered your pugnaciousness got you nowhere. 

Then, day four, he could feel it. The dejection. 

You were no longer in denial nor angry, but you refused acceptance, settling yourself into despondency. 

Kylo stalked the halls, the influxes of greetings and polite bows seemed almost blurred in his mind as his brain raced a mile a minute. 

Regret? Kylo Ren didn’t feel regret— he shouldn’t feel regret. 

“We’ve acquired an escapee, Supreme Leader.” a pair of Stormtroopers dragged a shaking and writhing little thing towards him, shouting and arguing against their hold on her body. 

“Let me go! PUT ME DOWN!” sobs wracked your words, your breaths gasping as you tried to swallow down oxygen. 

He didn’t blame your hysteria. The scene unfolding before your eyes was a gruesome one. Bodies splayed the streets of Cardota, blood soaked the pavements. Structures crumbled, dust filled the air. And it was all his doing. 

He stood watching, silent, as the Stormtroopers forced you to your knees before him, you still fought against them, but the trembling made you weak in comparison to them. “Should we kill her too, Supreme Leader?” 

He parted his lips beginning to order that everyone was to be terminated— until his eyes fell onto yours.

Wide, brimming with tears of pain and anger. His words paused in his throat. You had no way of knowing, but as soon as your gazes locked, it was game over.

“No.” he ordered instead. “Release her.” 

He saw the relief flood to your system, but that’s not what he’d meant. The Stormtroopers slackened their grip as Kylo watched you fall to the ground before attempting to scramble upward. 

With an eased outstretch of his hand your movements ceased, the Force straining your muscles and pinning you to the ground, your eyes still wide, still enraged and sorrowful, but now they glimmered with a hint of confusion. 

He crouched down, waving his leather cladden hand across your face and gently ordered, “Sleep.”

Watching as you had no choice to compel, your eyes fluttered shut as your consciousness drifted away. 

“Pull out the divisions, our job here is done.” he ordered the Stormtroopers, ignoring the chorus of “Yes, Supreme Leader.” as he kept his mask locked on you. 

He swept forward, effortlessly pulling you into his arms, cradling you like a small and defenseless child. Your unconscious head laid against his rapidly beating heart, his thoughts reeling— what was he doing? 

Why did he feel this… this need to be near you— as if he wanted to protect you?

He carried you onto his ship, transferring you into a cell as he carefully, as if you’d shatter with too much pressure, laid you on the floor. 

Safe. On his ship. His. 

Kylo didn’t regret the blood that was shed, that tainted his hands. He didn’t feel sorry for any of the lives he’d taken… right?

But something possessed him— something soiled his spirits the moment he met your eyes, and it only worsened when he’d carried you in his arms.

Who were you? You were nobody, surely. Just a Cardota local girl. You had no affiliations with the war, with his plans for the galaxy— one half of him argued.

The other half begged to differ. You were someone. He could sense it within you every time he was near you, and kriff’s sake he couldn’t stand to not be near you… that was definitely something. 

But what was it about you? 

He’d whisked off to his private quarters, his mind still reeled with you— it was completely encompassed with you… why?

It infuriated him, part of him wanted to kill you, be free of the drawing compulsion he felt towards you. But he couldn’t seem to do it. Just the idea of killing you filled him with a feeling he hated more than his affliction for you. A feeling he thought he was better than to feel. 

Even on the other side of the ship he could hear into your thoughts as if you were clearly speaking to him. He could hear your indignation toward him and the hint of exhaustion in your scorn. You despised him— he’d taken everything from you. 

He crossed his chambers, ripping open the door to the private sections where the remnants of his grandfather’s mask laid awaiting him.

He crouched, not much unlike a pleading child. “Help me, Grandfather.” he whispered, his eyes shutting and his hand hovering over the mask. “Help me understand.” 

His desperate calls came unanswered, swelling a low broiling anger in his stomach. “I need to know what it is about her.” he demanded. 

Nothing. 

He ripped his eyes open, lip curling in irritation. Why was she in his head? What made her so special to make the Supreme Leader feel like this?

Practically leaping off the ground he turned his back on his grandfather’s mask, making his way to his sleeping quarters as he tugged off his own mask, throwing it with little care across the room.

He sank onto the edge of his bed, his elbows propped on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. His head throbbed and that constant simmering, slow-churning anger seeped through his skin, rolling off of him in waves.

Why her?

He was about to throw his fist into the nearest piece of furniture when something washed over him. Something replaced the meek dullness he felt. 

As he sank himself deeper into the sensation, he allowed himself to feel. Ravenous and fulfilling. 

She’s eating. 

The realization surged over him with complete understanding. He could practically feel himself sigh. 

Good. Compliance. 

He’d kept you for a while now, almost like an experiment. Testing himself, his limits around you. 

He allowed himself to feel how he felt when he was near you. Trying several different approaches— spending too much time with you, staying away from you. 

All he gathered from this was being around you calmed him, it relieved that dull rage that constantly coursed through his system, and when he left you, it’d return. 

In the time he’d kept you captive he’d learned everything he possibly could about you. Who you physically were, where and what you came from. Your lineage, your occupation on Cardota. Every fact he could absorb, he did. 

The information he wanted to know, and still didn’t— which bugged the everliving stars out of him— was why you still made him feel this way.

When he was away from you, he could feel it swelling inside him. He scrutinized himself for the way he just wanted to be in your presence again— the way he craved it. The serenity you seemed to bring.

Kylo lost sleep over you. It was pathetic. 

Every night was the endless cycle of not hearing your thoughts while your mind was at ease, caught up in the bliss and the comfort of sleep. If he focused hard enough he could hear your soft breaths. He wondered what you looked like as you slept… if you slept more pleasantly than him. 

Sleep haunted him, his demons clawed at him when his eyes shut, it was never refreshing. He wondered if you felt refreshed when you’d awaken.

He wondered if you dreamed blissfully, whereas he was cursed with nightmares. Then a thought wafted over him— you were pure.

The only time he managed to fall asleep and stop thinking of you was if he imagined holding you as you slept. 

Pathetic. He reminded himself.

You made him feel unstable yet at peace all at the same time and it drove him insane. 

He’d indulged himself in your company, even if you were begrudging. Under his mask he quirked a smirk, watching as you crossed your arms, looking around the room to anywhere but him. 

You didn’t have to speak, he could hear you nonetheless. Your thoughts. 

“You’re restless.” his modulated hum rang out. His words were direct, but his tone was gentle. 

“How long are you going to keep me here?” you bit back. 

“Where else do you have to go?” he returned.

He cursed his words as soon as he’d uttered them. That indignation, that dull ache of your own rolled off of you and onto him. 

“That wouldn’t be the case if you hadn’t raided my planet and destroyed the Hosnian system.” your tone oozed with bitterness as your hands gripped your arms.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re going to stay upset about that, are you?” 

You scoffed, “Yes.” 

“Then I regret to inform you you’ll have quite the unpleasant while.” he leaned his head back, his eyes still glued to you. 

“You could always just kill me.” you spit. 

“I’ve already told you that’s not going to happen.” his voice hardened. Your continuous pleas for him to just finish you off were growing tiresome. 

‘He’s a horrible monster in a mask- and he’s insufferable. He keeps me around like some little pet, refusing to let me go or kill me.’ your thoughts reverberated around his own skull. 

His lip quirked upwards again, entertained. 

Pet? You saw yourself as a pet to him? Oh, how delightfully wrong you were. If only you knew how you drew him in— if you only knew of the pull you had on him.

“Insufferable, am I?” he almost cooed. 

“Get out of my head.” you spat. 

Monster in a mask, he thought. Was he a monster? Maybe his actions were ‘monstrous’, but were they not justified? Every decision he’s made had led him to where he is now. 

Oh right… to being tormented by this girl. 

He stood, eyeing you for a moment as you watched him, swallowing down your hopes for his departure. Funny you’re not used to his company by now. 

“Monster in a mask…” he repeated your thoughts back to you, earning a disinterested hum in response. 

“You can’t deny your curiosity.” As he looked at you, you looked at him. His hands seemed to move on their own accord. They found the edges of his mask, and with an eased sweep he pulled it from his head. His eyes fell on you— and your eyes looked into his, unconcealed for the first time. 

He watched your eyes drift over his features, soaking in his appearance. He ignored the way his heart rate picked up. You were quiet, completely thoughtless for a moment, and he couldn’t hold back his smirk. He’d taken you by surprise. 

“I suppose it’s time we met, face to face… after all, you’re not going anywhere any time soon.” His eyes drifted over you, soaking you in as he set his mask on the cot he’d been sitting.

He relished in the soft little hiccup sound you made at hearing his unmodulated voice. How your eyes gently widened and how your heart skipped a beat. 

But as quickly as these appeared they faded. Changed into something else—

Confusion, he finally recognized.

“What do you want with me?” you piped up, making him cock his head in intrigue. “You won’t kill me, you won’t let me go… so what is it you want?” 

A little voice in his head seemed to speak up for him, You, but he quickly stifled its words. 

“I want to know why you have this hold on me.” he spoke truthfully. 

He watched as your forehead crumpled but your eyes remained wide in disbelief. “Hold I have on you!?” you practically squeaked. He nodded, “Yes.” 

You scoffed, which normally he’d have taken offense to, but it oddly piqued his interest. “You’re holding me captive.” you reminded him. 

“Yes, I’m aware of the circumstances.” he clasped his hands behind his back, still not removing his gaze from you, and it pleased him that you didn’t shy away from looking back. 

He looked to the ground for a moment as he took a sweeping step forward, bringing himself closer to you, his eyes falling on you again as you looked up at him from the floor. 

“What is it you’ve inflicted on me?” he asked, utterly serious, and a twinge of annoyance struck him as you let out an incredulous laugh. 

“Why is it that you are all I can think about? That when I’m around you I find myself at ease?” His expression hardened as he spoke, his eyes almost glaring. His desperation for the truth was affecting him. 

There was a beat as you stared at him and he looked back at you. “Tell me.” he ordered.

You scoffed again, “I don’t know what this obsession is you have with me- but I didn’t inflict you with anything.”

Obsession? Surely it wasn’t obsession… right?

He stared at you, his eyes still slightly glaring as he looked at you just as incredulously as you looked at him. 

“Why?” he asked again. 

Your brows furrowed as you shook your head. “I don’t know why you’re in love with me!? Gods you’re insufferable!” you spat.

His brows raised before he let out an almost jeering laugh. “In love with you? I couldn’t be farther from in love with you.” 

You looked at him for a long moment, his gaze locked on yours as you both silently sized each other up. 

“Let me go then.” you finally broke the silence. Your words took him aback, not that he wasn’t expecting them, but they did manage to surprise him. 

“That’s not happening.” he turned away from you, shaking his head. He heard you scoff once more, but he ignored it. Your rising agitation only made the feeling gurgle within him, and he knew his visitation for the day was over. 

He pulled his helmet back on, looking at you for a moment. When you’d turned your head, crossing your arms once more, he tutted softly before exiting your cell. 

He remembered how his mind had reeled as he retired from your cell. 

In love? In love?! 

What did the Supreme Leader need with love?! It was preposterous. First Order sympathizers looked up to him, practically ate out of his palm. He could have the whole galaxy and he would soon enough, so what did he need with love?

The word ‘love’ reverberated around his brain like a blaster shot bouncing around a contained room. 

He didn’t feel love– the idea that he did brought a low boil of anger to his gut. Love was useless to him, how dare you suggest he was in love with you.

Sure, he’d give it to you, maybe he was a little obsessed with you, with the way you made him feel– but him in love with you? No way. He refused to accept it. 

He needed to reach out to his grandfather again, to beg for answers. He needed to know why it felt like you had him in your grip when he was the one with the hold on you. 

Crouched once again on the floor before his grandfather’s mask, his hand hovering above it, he pleaded out. “Please, Grandfather. I need to understand.” 

His desperations came answered, but not in the way he expected– or the way he was ready for. 

He was met with a vision of your eyes on him again, looking into his eyes. He saw you reach out for him and he wanted to cower away, but he just couldn’t seem to do it, and a moment later he found your hand in his before he pulled you tightly to his body. 

He held you for a long moment, and he almost swore he could actually feel you against him, but as soon as he thought he could, you vanished from his grip and he was filled with a feeling of longing and emptiness. 

‘Love’ echoed around his brain again. 

“Fuck.” his eyes shot open and his hand withdrew rapidly from above his grandfather’s mask. He recalled the way he’d met you, the way he felt when he first looked into your eyes. 

The obsession he had for you, the way he wanted to protect you, how he felt at ease in your company. 

He wanted to ravish you, show you things you’d never experience without him. He wanted to watch your eyes light up as he showed you unseen parts of the galaxy… from beside him. 

The draw he had to you… it was… love. 

What was he to do with this realization? Surely you couldn’t love him back— for stars sake he took you captive. You were prisoner on his ship. 

How could he make you see he only did what he did because he was, in fact, in love with you?

That’s when things changed. That’s when Kylo extended an olive branch and after a while, you accepted it. That’s why you were where you were now and Kylo Ren was completely and utterly kriffed. He was Supreme Leader of the entire galaxy… he could have anything— he could get anything, what did he need with you? Why did he need you?

Yet here you were. In his quarters, lying beside him in his bed, so sweet and gently sleeping.

As soon as you willingly moved from your quarters to his, he knew it there was no use arguing how he felt. While he was comforted by your presence, so much so as to almost lure him to sleep, he couldn’t stop himself from peering through his closed eyes at you every time you rolled over, sighed, groaned softly– or worse– moved closer to him. 

You moved restlessly as you slept, and it slightly annoyed Kylo, that’s why he couldn’t seem to stop himself when he threw his arms around you and tugged you against his chest, keeping you pinned against him. But to his surprise, you stilled. And you stayed that way as long as he held you. 

He constantly wracked his brain wondering why you’d meant so much to him. You were a prisoner, you were his captive. And yet without you knowing, you had him wrapped around your finger. Why? What was it about you that drew him into you– and after a while, you into him? 

Regret.

You should hate him, he’d hated himself. Not only for what he’d done, but for what he did to you. He’d taken everything from you and left only him for you to know, so why did you give in?

He remembered that switch in your brain. When you finally stopped fighting him– wanting to escape, being defensive and aggressive– and you gave in. As if you’d accepted that he was your new normal, and you didn’t fight it, in fact, you welcomed it. Why? What changed?

Was it him? He supposed he had been trying to be nicer to you. He granted you your own quarters, he allowed you to have a little more freedom, all the while you were his prisoner.

Maybe it was when he opened up and he talked to you. He told you all about his desires and his aspirations not just for himself, but for the galaxy… and you listened. He liked that you didn’t just accept everything he said, that you were a little combative. That you argued against his means and questioned his motives.

He wasn’t sure why, but you liked listening to him talk, and even more confusing, he liked talking to you.

He couldn’t seem to help himself from telling you anything and everything, even the minute details about his life such as what he ate for breakfast, and what his favorite color was. He liked that you listened, really listened.

You didn’t listen like everyone else who just accepted what he said as fact. You listened and processed what he’d tell you, and you’d respond.

He also liked that you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore at least, though, he’d argue you never really were. Even the moment he took you on board the Finalizer, you never once showed him you were afraid of him. You were strong. Something else he supposed he liked about you.

He could easily destroy you, and in a way he had, but he didn’t want to, at least not anymore. Something about you made him want to protect you, to care for you. Why?

You thrashed gently in his arms, tearing his attention down to you. When his eyes met yours he found you looking up at him with your tired, but ever so gorgeous eyes. 

“Do you ever sleep?” you hummed half-consciously. “No.” he said mostly jokingly, though his tone was firm and serious. He was relieved when a small smile pulled on your pretty lips anyways.

“I don’t keep you up, do I?” you yawned, shifting in his arms a little. He froze– you were worried about him? His lips parted to speak, to question why you cared, but he couldn’t seem to find the means to ask. 

“No. If anything I sleep better when you’re near.” 

This time you froze– and he scrutinized himself. Why did he say that? Why did he think that was something he should’ve ever admitted?

Time seemed to slow as you looked up at him, and him down at you. Part of him argued to let you go, release you from his hold, but the other half of him begged to pull you closer.

You pulled away from his arms, and he hated the way it felt like his heart sank– how he felt disappointed, but he acted as if it didn’t bother him as he watched you pull yourself up on your arms. He feigned a look of indifference as you looked at him, your emotions so strong he could feel them radiating off of you. 

Confusion, intrigue… want.

Then you did the unthinkable. Your hand gently met his cheek and he had to fight the urge to snatch your hand off and push you away, after all, he didn’t want to scare you, not anymore.

He watched as your eyes fell from his to where your hand laid against his cheek, then they moved to his lips.

Just enough time passed for his heartbeat to quicken and thump against his ribcage before you leaned in and your lips were on his. 

He stilled for a moment, watching, waiting as you took the lead, but he finally allowed himself to kiss you back.

When you pulled away you both eyed each other, like you were silently sizing the other up. “Why did you do that?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“To see what you’d do.” you answered as if it was the most obvious answer in the galaxy. When his eye twitched slightly, you giggled, “Well? How do you feel?” you asked, as you pulled your hand away from his cheek.

Hopeless.

Kylo Ren— Supreme Leader of the galaxy felt hopeless.

Hopelessly in love with you. 

You possessed him, you made him feel things that he swore he’d never feel again. He was supposed to be angry, cruel, the embodiment of revenge and power… and yet he was in love with you. 

He wanted to give you everything. He’d pluck every star from the galaxy for you if it meant he’d get to see that smile of yours, to see the way your eyes would sparkle. He needed you. 

He snatched up your face with much more haste than he’d meant, but it didn’t matter. He needed to feel your lips on his again, to feel the feeling of you against him and the way everything felt right when you were near.  And you didn’t fight. 

You let him as he wrapped his free arm around your waist, tugging your body against his as his lips pressed to yours. 

He kissed like he was a drowning man and you were the smallest bit of oxygen that would give him a second wind to keep going. Because that’s how you made him feel. 

Kylo Ren was drowning. Drowning in responsibilities, in expectations of what he needed to do and who he should be, but around you, Kylo Ren could breathe. 

All responsibilities and expectations died away, and he could simply be. 

Your arms tangled around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer as your lips worked in synchronization, each of you battling for the upper hand to kiss with the most passion. To kiss with love. 

As much as it didn’t make sense to him— you did. Everything felt at ease with you, and here and now, he was finally accepting that he didn’t need to fight it. That everything you made him feel wasn’t weakness, but that you gave him an unknown source of strength. 

You were intoxicating. He couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about you that he liked the most. He liked you as a whole. You pulled him in and made him feel safe… like he belonged, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly felt.

You were supposed to be his, he was supposed to have you wrapped around his finger, eating out of his hand, but he was so wrong.

You didn’t know it, and he may not be ready to tell you, but he was yours.

Kylo Ren was yours.

[probablyasocialecologist]

As I watched people online debate the models of anti-colonial struggle, raising comparisons to Algeria and North America and South Africa, I found myself returning to the foundational Jewish liberation myth: the Exodus. It was hard not to think about the moment in the Passover seder when we lessen the wine in our full cups with our pinkies as we recite the plagues. This ritual has materialized as an indispensable touchstone, insisting that to hold onto our humanity we must grieve all violence, even against the oppressor.

But I also thought of the plagues themselves, particularly the final one, the slaying of the first born—children, adults, the elderly. It seems that hiding in our liberation myth is a recognition that violence will visit the oppressor society indiscriminately. I know that I have many friends, and that Currents has many readers, who are asking themselves how they can be part of a left that seems to treat Israeli deaths as a necessary, if not desirable, part of Palestinian liberation. But what Exodus reminds us is that the dehumanization that is required to oppress and occupy another people always dehumanizes the oppressor in turn. For people who feel like their pain is being devalued, it’s because it is; and that devaluation is itself a hallmark of the cycle of the diminishing value of human life. As the abolitionist geographer Ruth Wilson Gilmore has said, “Where life is precious, life is precious.” We are seeing the ways that Jews as the agents of apartheid will not be spared—even those of us who have devoted our lives to the work of ending it. (I am thinking of Hayim Katsman, zichrono l’vracha, killed by Hamas, an activist against the expulsion of the West Bank community of Masafer Yatta, and Vivian Silver, a hostage in Gaza, who is known to many of its residents as the person they meet at the Erez Crossing who advocates for and facilitates their transfers to Israeli hospitals for treatment.)

[...]

On the left, I hope we do not mistake the inevitability of the violence for an inescapable limit on our work or the quality of our thought. Even if our dreams for better have failed, they must accompany us through this moment to the other side. 

[tangents-within-tangents]

Thoughts on Echo as amputee/disability representation

First and foremost, I am not disabled or an amputee and I don’t claim to speak for those communities (and if I was I couldn't speak for everyone). What little I do know mostly comes from this youtube channel (@oakwyrm), this post, and other research I’ve done for my writing (and like one amputee I kinda knew in passing). By all means correct me and add to the conversation, I just have some thoughts I want to share because I haven’t really seen this discussed anywhere

Overview

So Echo is interesting. He is a triple amputee which is pretty rare in media. His disabilities come from extremely traumatic circumstances: injured in a near-death experience, imprisoned and dehumanized as an experiment with no autonomy over what happened to his body.

There are a few moments in the shows where Echo is treated… questionably. Like this bit where Rex uses him as an example of the Separatists' evils to convince the locals to fight back:

To be fair, yeah Echo’s treatment does prove that the Techno Union is not neutral like they claim. The modifications that everyone is gasping in horror at here obviously weren’t made with comfort and accessibility in mind, nor with Echo’s consent. But you still just want to be sure that “They took away his freedom, his humanity, they tried to turn him into a machine” is about using him as a living computer, not the fact that he is missing limbs. 

The Batch is also pretty insensitive toward him and his trauma imo, which is weird considering they've supposedly also faced discrimination for their mutations

Disabled people do have to deal with stuff like this in this day and age so I guess it can speak to those experiences. I think especially him being mistaken as a droid (and Hunter going along with it (bruh)) might resonate with some people. 

Aside from that stuff, Echo isn't really treated any differently as a character/person which is really good (as low of a bar as that is).

We get this moment in CW where Echo contemplates that yeah things are gonna be different now

While also (imo at least) showing that he is still the same person regardless, evidenced by the fact that he just echoed Rex :,) I also think it's significant that he joins the Bad Batch on his own terms and we're given a really emotional scene to specifically show that he's not just like 'lumped in with the other misfits' but that it is his choice to go where he feels his place is.

A lot of people, myself included, are disappointed that TBB didn't have more time to explore Echo's PTSD, but I think the one panic attack scene we did get is really good. Even thought it's minor it at least is an appropriate reaction from a guy who was medically tortured (which is more than I've come to expect from Star Wars shows lol)

And it's really sweet to see Omega showing Echo some empathy and consideration.

It would have been nice to see more of his adjustment period, and other side effects like chronic pain and maintenance, but there’s a lot of daily life stuff the show never had time for (i.e. we don’t know if he removed his prosthetics to sleep, but we also never saw him sleep anyway). His disabilities might take on a background role (much like the character himself sadly) but for the most part they aren’t invisible or erased, nor do they define his character and arc.

Physical Appearance

Okay this one is bit dicey, bc on the one hand, yes complaints that Echo’s paleness (most likely caused by burns from the explosion or chemical burns from the cryo-chamber) is whitewashing are totally valid. But I also think you can draw comparisons to real life conditions that affect pigmentation/complexion (like you know burns). So while I understand why a lot of fanart will depict him with his original skin tone and with hair, consider that there are real people who have to live with temporary or permanent changes to their appearance, and the idea of “fixing" him by making him look more like his old self can be problematic.

It's also interesting to note that Echo could act as a reversal of the 'disabled/disfigured = evil' trope. He's pale and bald and wears black and red, which is so often visually associated with villains, but we all know Echo is the bestest boy™

The Headpiece

Echo’s headpiece is interesting because within the show we don’t actually ever learn much about it (idk if there is more info in books or whatever bc i don’t have them so?). He didn’t have it in CW so we know it didn’t come from the Techno Union and therefore Echo probably had more choice with it. We don’t know its exact purpose but it’s most likely related to his scomping abilities. When he is hacking with his scomp in CW, before he has his headpiece, it’s clearly very mentally straining:

We don’t see him struggling like this in TBB once he does have it (though that could be bc he got more used to it over time). There doesn't seem to be much of an impact when he removes his headpiece in s3 ep14-15, except that he gets stuck in the ports every time he uses his scomp which is not something we’ve seen before: 

There might not be an exact real-world equivalent, but the headpiece is some kind of accessibility aid. It means that someone specifically designed a device to help him adapt to the changes the Techno Union made, as well as a helmet that integrates it. It’s removable and visually very present, much like a cochlear implant would be. (A lot of people actually headcanon it to act partially as a hearing aid, since it makes sense that Echo’s hearing would have been damaged in the explosion, but there isn't really any indication of this in canon.) The headpiece is never really acknowledged in the show, but I think that's a good thing. It's something he needs/wants and it just exists, completely normalized, and that's pretty cool 👍

Legs

Sigh... So from the very first episode of TBB I was really disappointed that the animation team or whoever completely visually erased Echo’s prosthetic legs (I think we all were, honestly, if fanart is anything to go by). It’s one thing when he’s in armor because he would probably want to protect his prosthetics, but we literally see him in his blacks and there is no indication whatsoever that he lost his legs even though it was not left up for debate at all in CW:

Like ??????!?

This is just really strange to me! Idk what went on behind the scenes with this decision but I don’t really see why it would be that much harder to animate or anything since it’s 3D and they've done it before. We do see some pretty sophisticated cybernetic technology in Star Wars canon that mimics real limbs:

But Luke’s fancy hand is technically 20ish years from now, so Anakin and Maul are more of a representation of what level we could expect here

So yeah, for no apparent reason, his leg amputation is effectively, visually and narratively nonexistent. Which is not great 👎

Arm!

The scomp on the other hand (uh lol!) is the complete opposite and I kinda love it!

At first I, like many others, thought it was a bit odd that they didn’t give Echo a prosthetic arm. Losing hands is basically a Star Wars tradition at this point, so robotic arms/hands are well established within the worldbuilding: 

We aren’t necessarily given a canon reason for why Echo doesn't get a cybernetic arm (again unless it's in some lore book I haven’t read, sorry). General fanon explanations I’ve seen are that he either couldn’t because the Techno Union wired the scomp too far into his nervous system, and/or the resources to give him one were deemed too expensive for a clone (what about his legs tho?), or that he chose not to, usually because he thought the scomping was useful. 

Regardless, I actually really love this choice (and it's the whole reason I made this post), because here's the thing: There’s a lot of problematic tropes out there that either erase/cure disabilities or compensate them with perks (like how pretty much any blind character is actually not blind by some sort of magic power). With amputees that is done with robotic arms. The character is still an amputee or course, and there is still value in that representation, if this story from Mark Hamill that makes me tear up is anything to go by:

but for the most part these characters function like anyone else, just with a limb that looks a little different. It’s no more than a video game skin, an able-bodied actor with a green screen glove. It “cures” the disability, or it actually makes the character even stronger than usual: 

It usually makes sense within the world of the story, but the reason it’s not so great in my opinion is that in the real world we just do not have technology anywhere close to that yet. Prosthetics can more or less replace any mobility from lost legs, but not for all the complexities of a hand (and even if they could the average person wouldn’t be able to afford it).

So

I think it's actually really super cool that Echo’s scomp bypasses the canonically-established amputee erasure and functions much like a stump would irl. He integrates it into his movements and everyday life and it’s (as far as I know) a lot closer to an everyday amputee’s experience. 

It doesn’t define his character, it doesn’t hold him back, he lives a full life, the other’s don’t treat him any differently, and he’s still a total karking badass 

The only additional thing is that he sometimes uses it as a weapon (which given his story, I think it’s cool to see him taking back autonomy in a way, and we only see that like twice)

And also the scomping, which could be seen as the 'added/compensating superpower' trope. But narratively it's no different than if he was plugging in with a hacking gadget of some kind (he didn't necessarily "need" to lose his arm for it) and it’s not like Echo is completely defined by this skill. Personally, I think it's well worth the positives of him actually having a visible and realistically impactful amputation. 

I see a lot of posts or comments out there that say stuff like “how come Echo doesn’t get a hand?” or fanworks that do give him one and I just think it’s a bit of a shame. If he did get a robotic hand, it just would have disappeared the same way his legs and Anakin’s arm did (aside from that one time he got yoinked by a magnet). When Echo did “get a hand” in the last two episodes there were comments like “yay he finally got a hand! but it doesn’t even work” but I was actually so relieved that it didn’t! Bc for one thing that wouldn’t make any sense, he grabbed it off a droid, it wasn’t designed to implement with his scomp, that would be really complicated. But more importantly because it again refused to erase/cure his disability! It functioned like a real-world cosmetic prosthetic (useless beyond appearance) which is exactly what he needed it for, so that he could blend in better with his disguise.

And he continually took it off throughout the episode and ditched it at the end. He only used it for the necessity of a stealth mission, he doesn’t feel the need to visually “fit in” in his daily life. 

And, last but very much not least, he made a dad joke and from my intel that is very accurate representation!

TLDR: Echo’s scomp is actually really cool from an amputee representation perspective, especially within Star Wars, and I think that deserves some appreciation 

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 20

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 19, Part 21

1K special

Warning! This is yandere, sagau imposter au so expect lots of gore in the series. This chapter is tame in comparison to the others.

The moon glimmers in the starlit sky as a hand brushes against your newly scarred skin. Eyelashes fluttering, your vision begins to focus on the plain ceiling above you. 

A coarse groan leaves your cracked lips as you flinch from the sudden pressure on your stomach. The hand quickly retreats as a pale green blob comes into view.

"...are…eeling?" The voice is barely picked up as your ears ring. Squinting your eyes, you swallow the dried saliva tasting faintly of blood.

"W-Who?" The word is coughed out as your throat struggles to form the words. Before you can ask for water, a cup is brought to your lips. The cold water brings sweet relief to your parched body.

Your senses begin to sharpen and clarity is brought back to your vision. Baizhu stands next to your bed helping you drink from the cup, though Changsheng isn't wrapped around his neck like she normally would be.

The water runs out and he draws the cup away. "How are you feeling? Your body is technically healed of its major injuries but it's still trying to adjust. The pain will continue to persist for a long while."

"I feel better than before." The reply is automatic as your hand twitches in an effort to move your muscles. The recollection of what had even brought you to Baizhu's care is a slow trickle as you process his words.

Shenhe, Yelan, the treasure hoarders, the fall and Qiqi are slotted into your memory like perfect puzzle pieces. The small pitter-patter of footsteps coming closer to you and the sound of metal being set down goes unheard by you as you focus on sitting up.

Soreness and exhaustion are impossibly heavy weights as you struggle to lift your body a few inches away from the mattress. Gentle hands support your body, along with much smaller ones on your other side. 

"Thank you…" Your words are choked out between your bitten lips as a dull ache plagues your body. Clenching the blanket in your fists, you sigh in relief as a cold compress is applied to your bare back.

Wait, your bare back?

The strangeness is not lost on you as you look down at yourself. A thin hospital-like gown is all that you seem to be wearing with the blanket pooled around your waist. It takes a second for you to properly process what this means for you before you’re frantically reaching up to your face.

“No need to fret, your mask was left untouched during the treatment.”

It seems to be the truth, as your fingertips are met with cool porcelain and flaking blood. Not to mention the casual way Baizhu is speaking to you and the lack of Millelith guards swarming you.

Licking your chapped lips, you eventually arrive at the question: where do you go now? Ningguang would surely kill you if she finds out you’re still alive. Zhongli is still expecting an answer, god knows what Yelan would do and Shenhe is a wild card-

The thoughts racing in your mind are abruptly cut off as a metal tray is plopped onto your lap. A warm bowl of soup and yogurt with a soft pastel color greeted you. The refilled cup of water placed on your bedside is ignored as your mouth waters at the sight of the meal.

“Clear chicken carrot soup and fruit-flavored yogurt.” A child-like, monotonous voice comments with a deeper melodic voice following up. “I would have had food suited to your taste, but you hadn’t awoken until now. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Nope.” You replied by popping the ‘p’ before pulling the tray closer and picking up the utensils. Allergies didn’t concern your ravenous mind, as your dormant stomach awakened painfully at the smell of food. Who knows, maybe your creator buff will also prevent any allergic reactions.

An upside to being the creator was something you desperately needed after the saga of pure bullshit you’ve been through.

Baizhu gently directs Qiqi out of the room after instructing her a message you couldn’t bother to hear as you gulp down the food. When he returns, he sits next to you as the moonlight shines down from the window.

“Let me explain your previous and current state while you eat. Qiqi brought you in with multiple minor injuries, a few stab wounds, head trauma, elemental damage, with fractured and broken bones. That’s not even mentioning the severe blood loss and infections beginning to manifest on your poorly healed past injuries.” Each description is like a stab to the heart, with the visualization of your passed out body arriving to Baizhu on death's doorstep crystal clear.

“Thankfully your body reacted well with my elemental healing so the life-threatening wounds were healed, without infections, and your critical condition was toned down. That doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”

The soup and yogurt is picked clean, leading you to gulp down the water next. Looking at him, you open your mouth to ask for more food when he cuts you off firmly. “Don’t bother asking for food, the arrows didn’t hit your lungs or heart, but your abdominal organs weren’t spared. You’ll be stuck with light meals until I’m positive it’s safe.”

Resisting a scoff, you ask him. “So what’s my current condition? Will I have to stay here overnight? Hold on, can I even afford that? How much did this treatment even cost?!”

“Please calm down, Y/N.” 

“How did you-”

“Your name was etched onto the bag that Qiqi brought along. As for payment, there’s no need to worry. You had a rather generous benefactor that has given us more then enough mora to cover your total cost in every possible scenario.”

That was suspicious beyond belief, but you didn’t have a reason not to believe Baizhu either. Baizhu would have healed you even without payment, but not being in debt was ideal. 

This benefactor either wants something from you, wants to kill you themselves, or knows you personally. 

A few people come to mind that could fit your suspicions but with so little knowledge you couldn’t confirm anything. Instead, you asked. “Isn’t doctor-patient confidentiality a thing? Did they leave any message for me?”

If Baizhu was surprised, then he hid it well. “She knew your name and appearance, though I never confirmed that you were here. She simply left the money and a verbal message asking you to have dinner with her tomorrow at 1800 in Xinyue Kiosk. But please be aware that I’m not forcing this, whether you would like me to refund the money so you can avoid interacting with her or not is completely up to you.”

Shaking your head, you declined it. “I’ll go. Since everything is paid for by her, does that also include any medicine I have to take for whatever current injuries I still have?”

“That’s right. I’m mostly prescribing supplements for the blood loss and fluid imbalance. Some are for the bones that broke, even repaired they might cause problems, so calcium intake is also important. A simple drug for your immune system, as your body's defenses are relatively low from the wounds. As well as per needed fever and pain medications.”

… You didn’t want to imagine the cost of those medications, let alone the treatment. A dinner in the most expensive restaurant in Liyue within the city with an unknown woman isn't that bad. 

You've met people in worst locations and survived this long.

Pushing back the lingering worry, you focused on Baizhu’s explanation over what condition your body is in, what time to take the medicine and any other problems that could arise. It was boring, but you weren’t looking to get sick from your own stupidity.

The conversation had gone as you expected for a while until he brought up a strange topic. Flipping through a few papers, Baizhu steered the topic onto your- “Scars. Many of what you suffered from will leave new scars on your body. It’s the old scars that were peculiar.”

Knowing your luck, your scars must also be known to them. But you weren’t going to bring it up if he didn’t.

“They are imbued and cultivated with a power that is strikingly familiar, yet foreign. It actually perfectly correlates with my researched point of interest. I wanted to ask your permission on getting a sample of it before your discharge.”

That was a risky request. Your face stayed neutral as you thought to yourself. The consequences could be minor, but what if it became another situation of an accidental connection to the Creator again?

Looking back at the smiling snaked eye man, you opened your mouth to respond when he suddenly gave the fakest gasp.

���I almost forgot to mention that your old scar formations are the exact locations of the Creator’s real scars! This along with everything else I’ve seen is almost enough for me to report this to the Mille-”

“For fuck's sake just take it.” You could be excused for not playing mind games this time, being nearly dead should be enough reason for a day off. 

“I want some form of compensation, though!” Being stupidly tired is a different matter then being just plain stupid.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll most likely take the sample sometime tomorrow before your discharge. So please, tell me what you have in mind by noon tomorrow so I can fetch it in time.”

In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising that Baizhu would ask this of you. Your body has clearly undergone some changes as you lived in Teyvat and Baizhu is dead set on finding a way to be immortal. 

There was a time you had wondered if you might be immortal due to being the creator, so maybe Baizhu can figure it out with your sample.

“The last thing I want to address before you rest is-” Baizhu is cut off by a knock on the door. He glances at you, asking permission to open the door with his eyes before you nod firmly. Qiqi walked in earlier without knocking, so maybe it’s a visitor? But considering how late it is, maybe you were wrong…

“Come in Qiqi and bring the visitor in too.” 

The door opens slowly as you watch Qiqi walk in stiffly with a yawning girl following her in at a similar height. Long light brown hair is loose as the girl rubs her eyes tiredly. 

“Hello Dr. Baizhu, I came back to check one last time if the oracle- Oh!” Caramel colored eyes widen at the sight of you sitting on the bed, and the girl hurriedly gives a polite bow. A yellow plush bunny is smooshed in her arms in the process.

“Hello, pardon my rudeness. My name is Yaoyao and I was sent by my master to check on you! It’s my honor to make your acquaintance, Y/N, or would you rather me call you by the oracle title?”

The ‘little adult’ looks different without the decorative bells she usually wears in her tied up hair, but the bunny was a dead give away. You smile at the nervous girl while wondering just who told her about you being an oracle.

Baizhu was giving you a look that basically screamed suspicion.

“You can just call me Y/N. By master, you mean Madame Ping, right?” Yaoyao beams at that as she steps closer.

“That’s correct, we learned about you from the other Adepti and Xiangling.” You should have known. “When we heard that you were here, I was sent on my Master's orders and Ganyu’s concern. Visitors weren’t allowed earlier, but I wanted to check one last time.”

Ganyu too? That basically guarantees Ningguang, Keqing, Zhongli and even more knowing that you’re here. But more importantly was the fact that Baizhu investigated anything connected to the Adepti for his immortality quest. 

You could only hope that Baizhu would be happy with a basic explanation and the sample of your scar tissue as promised.

“Visitors was the last topic I wanted to address.” Baizhu smoothly joins as he gets up from his seat and heads toward a desk on the far side of the room. A small pile of letters and a pile of gifts sit on the table next to your bag. How didn’t you notice it before?

“After a patient here noticed you before she was discharged, she and her guardian left you a letter with a present. I believe she may have been the one to spread it, but I ask you to kindly not hold anger against her. She’s rather young.”

So the little leaker was a child? It could be one of the kids you saved, but none of them could really afford to go to Baizhu. Not that he would have denied them but most children in that situation don’t go unless on the verge of death or pushed by an adult.

“It’s okay, I’ll look through the stuff in the morning.” As if on cue, Yaoyao fails to hide a yawn as she walks to stand next to your bed.

“Auntie Cloud Retainer and the rest of the Adepti told Master what happened on Mt. Aocang. Master really wants to meet you, so if you have any time to spare, please pay her a visit here at the Yujing Terrace near the Yiyan temple.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you make a mental note of that before asking Yaoyao a question in return. 

“Just how many people in general know that I’m here? I know quite a few people and Qiqi being here must have been quite a spectacle… But surely it must not have been too much considering that it was the middle of the night.”

The nervous expression on Yaoyao face dashes away any hopes you had. 

“Sorry Y/N but a lot of the city was speaking about you. Even nature and the animals kept mentioning you! Though they were a little more vague. If it helps, most people know you as a masked person rather than your name.”

Sighing, you don’t even bother hiding the distaste on your face. Changing masks wouldn’t do much and you sure as hell can’t remove it either, leaving you with the sole option of leaving. 

Leaving before anyone else can attack you in this fast-pace city filled with greed and ambition. If you stayed here any longer, you’ll surely be pulled into whatever new situation happens and only get more attention. 

The dinner you had first worried about is almost miniscule compared to the threat of Yelan and Shenhe knowing your location. More so, Yelan as she has an obligation to get rid of you due to her job rather than Shenhe’s emotional motive. 

Your mind replays the last bit of your fight where you had touched the waypoint and- Oh fuck. Groaning, you dumped your face into your hands as Yaoyao watched you worriedly. Her worried calls rolled off you like waves as you remember how the teleport waypoint glowed in front of everyone.

That’s a complete group of people, treasure hoarders nonetheless, that saw you activate it. Yelan could use that information and the witnesses in whatever stupidly clever way she wants!

Yaoyao looks back at Baizhu confused as he shakes his head silently. Qiqi picks up a glass of coconut milk and begins to walk towards you with it before Baizhu blocks her way.

Fingers digging into your scalp, you resist the urge to pull your hair as you bite your still slightly bruised lips. The realization of what kind of ammo you gave Yelan was killing you. 

Baizhu takes the glass from Qiqi and puts it back down before handing her a glass of water. Qiqi stares blankly at Baizhu before switching the glasses again. As the two continuously switch cups, Yaoyao rummages in her bag.

A sting of pain begins to grow as you get dangerously closer to the recently healed head wound. The smell of something sweet yet earthy snaps you out of your stress-fueled self depreciation as small hands pry your rough ones away.

“Please be careful Y/N, Dr. Baizhu is a great doctor but you shouldn’t hurt yourself like this. Have a candied date, it's golden honey flavored and works great to get rid of the bitter medicinal taste that he prescribes.”

It didn’t smell too bad, so you hesitantly took it from her hands and glanced back at Baizhu in case he tries to confiscate it. With his back safely turned, you pop the candied date into your mouth.

It’s a nice taste and it does work well as a distraction from your worries. “Thank you Yaoyao.” Your hand reaches out instinctively and pats her head. “The Creator views you fondly and one day your fate will intersect with the creator’s just like it did with the Adepti.”

The lie flows smoothly from your mouth as she smiles brightly up at you. Her eyes move down to the blanket as she responds. “I still don’t quite know what that means, but I’m sure I’ll be able to properly appreciate it once I’m older.”

Qiqi joins you both and hands you a glass of water that you take from her gratefully. Your hand leaves Yaoyao’s head to rest on the bed, making Qiqi look away with a pout. Before you can question the unexpected reaction, Baizhu redirects the conversation.

“I understand that you hold some valid concerns over your safety, Y/N. This situation isn’t one we deal with frequently, but we do have measures in place.”

The look you send him speaks a thousand words as he sighs and adds. “Free of charge, of course, as it counts as patient confidentiality.” 

“Bubu’s Pharmacy has tight security measures and Millelith frequent the area due to it being near the Yiyan Temple and the Welkin Temple.” You were 100% sure that the second temple did not exist before you came here. “Me and Qiqi both reside here and as experienced vision holders, you’ll be in safe hands.”

Nodding in understanding, you can’t deny that it felt safer knowing you weren’t going to be left alone. Your body was still exhausted and in the midst of healing so you didn’t have much energy to defend yourself with if Ningguang were to send another person after you.

“Qiqi doesn’t sleep much, so she’ll keep an eye out for anything amiss.” And you were right back to feeling anxious. Baizhu was relaxed as he tidied up the room, while Yaoyao spoke softly to Qiqi.

Glancing at the zombie child, you repeated the mantra to yourself that anyone could be a DPS in Genshin. You just needed to check her equipment before bed.

Yaoyao turns back to you with a sleepy smile. “I’ll be taking my leave now. I wish you a swift recovery, and I look forward to seeing you again with my Master.” With a casual wave, you let that be your only farewell as you drink the glass of water Qiqi handed you earlier.

Baizhu pats his clothing down as he calls out to Yaoyao right as she opens the door.

“Oh Yaoyao, since you’ll be relaying the message to Madam Ping and Ganyu, please have Ganyu tell Ningguang about Y/N’s acceptance to dinner for me as well.”

The water you were drinking goes down the wrong way at those words. 

Coughing, you yank the glass away as you look back up to the surprised Baizhu. “Did you say Ningguang? Was she the one who paid for everything and asked for the dinner?”

Baizhu smiles pleasantly with little regard for your shaky tone as he nods. There goes every flicker of hope you had that Ningguang wasn’t your benefactor.

Every drop of blood your body synthesized to restore you back to normal is drained as you pale at the confirmation. Just how the hell did you manage to meet Zhongli, Yelan, and Ningguang!? 

They are all people you wanted to avoid, and you definitely shouldn’t have met, considering the fact that people pay to even get an hour with Ningguang, let along a whole ass dinner invite!

Was there some stupid rule that goes along with being the creator making you meet nearly every acolyte that exists?

So busy cursing yourself and the entirety of Teyvat out, you don’t notice how Baizhu corrals Yaoyao out of the room before heading to you, as Qiqi watches from the sidelines.

“My, my you’ve gone pale at the news Y/N.” Baizhu’s glasses glint a little from the flickering lantern illuminating the room. He smiles down at you with half-lidded eyes that stare at you strangely.

“I didn’t realize that I forgot to tell you who it was. If you decide to, we can always cancel it and send a priority letter before discussing a payment plan.”

Squinting your eyes, you shake your head ‘no’ as you try to read the simultaneously shady yet reckless doctor. It didn’t seem like he had any malicious intentions, as he very much did mean to hide it. But you can’t be sure that he had any good intentions either.

“That’s a shame, I was looking forward to discussing alternate ways of paying that don’t require mora.” …Yeah, no matter what way you put it or how clean Baizhu keeps his reputation. One can not simply not be seen as shady while going around saying stuff like that.

So not only is Baizhu showing signs of that strange attachment in a matter of hours, but Ningguang decided to suddenly switch her tactics. From ‘investigate and kill if deemed a threat’ to ‘generous wealthy person that totally isn’t covering up a crime’.

Could you possibly get Yanfei to sue Ningguang if you aren’t poisoned at the dinner?

Maybe, but that’s all riding on the chance that you aren’t killed in some coincidental accident before then. Waving away the pessimistic and slightly comical thoughts, you look up at Baizhu as he dims the lantern. 

“The pharmacy opens at 0900 in the morning. Are you willing to take visitors from that point on till your discharge at 1300?” Briefly looking at the letters and gifts, you nod silently.

Baizhu’s smile doesn’t waver as he responds casually. “Many people will be happy to hear that Y/N, you seem quite popular.”

He opens the door before kneeling to Qiqi’s height. “The last order I have for you tonight is to keep watch over Y/N and protect them if need be. Understand?”

Qiqi tilts her head at that and blandly states. “Order received. Order cannot be processed. Original intended function still active and in place.”

Baizhu frowns at that as you look at Qiqi curiously. His expression quickly smooths back to a calm smile as he stands up. “As long as the ending is the same, then I don’t mind.”

He glances at you one last time as the door creaks open to show the dark hallway. Slitted eyes meet yours, full of curiosity and intrigue. They almost glow as he steps into the hallway with Qiqi in tow before the door closes softly.

Sighing in relief, you flop back onto the bed and roll in the covers for a position that won’t put pressure on your aching muscles. Baizhu’s increasingly strange behavior slithers back into your mind as you close your eyes.

Just why didn’t he ask you about being an oracle yet? Is he planning on getting the Millelith? No, he would have done so much earlier. Maybe he’s trying to gather some blackmail on you? 

The possibilities torment your exhausted mind as you finally settle on just explaining yourself tomorrow when you get the scar sample from you. When you open your eyes, the flame has already burned away, leaving your only light as the moon. 

Staring at it, you think back to the waypoints. Are they finally fixed? Can you use them again? You couldn’t test it out now, but you could do so when you leave after the dinner with Ningguang. 

Which region should you travel to next? There was no may you could stay or go back to Inazuma, so it’s either Mondstadt or Sumeru as they are the closest. 

Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what traveling through the terrain would be like to arrive in the city. Frowning, you continue by imagining what it would be like traveling in that region for the weekly commissions.

It’s a simple decision really as Sumeru had a wide range of animals and poisonous plants to fight past. While Mondstadt had that sweet peaceful greenery from being the starter city with the lowest amount of treasure hoarders thanks to a certain Cryo user.

Deciding that you’ve picked your brain enough on the topic, you shut your eyes for some actual rest.

A moment passes, and then another, as the wind rustles the leaves on the tree outside the window. The faint sound of a sweet croon reaches your ears as you stubbornly keep your eyes closed.

As your mind is slowly consumed by the heavy exhaustion and the dimness of the room, two thoughts come to mind.

One, you forgot to check Qiqi’s equipment. Two, just what made you be locked out from the teleport waypoints if it counts as a game mechanic from Genshin Impact itself?

—---------------

“The moon is quite beautiful at this time of night.” A kind and knowing voice says as wrinkled hands pick out the bits of leaves from long white hair. The moonlight illuminates the silvery strands as it gradually is picked clean to its former glory.

“Child, just what has happened that you come to me out of all the Adepti for assistance?” A red rope is cut into perfect portions and tied to form the perfect braid. A Cryo vision sits innocently as the centerpiece, while a monochrome ornament adorns the top.

“I cannot advise you on the matter that troubles you if you do not speak, Shenhe.” Iridescent eyes finally move up from the ground to meet the elderly woman’s warm ones. Shenhe struggles to speak as her head dips forward.

“I… I hurt someone badly. But they hurt me too.” Shenhe holds her hands together in a prayer like motion as her eyes flutter close. “But at the end, they showed me something I couldn’t believe. No. That I refused to believe and even helped me.”

With a hunched back and patience learned over thousands of years, the old woman stays quiet. Giving the oh-so apathetic disciple time to put her thoughts into words.

“I don’t know what to do, and master isn’t the most adept when it comes to humans. But you, Streetward Rambler are, in more than one way. You constitute as a human more than me.”

Shenhe closes her eyes as she thinks back to her encounter with you. The truth you didn’t hesitate to spit in her face, the raw anger you expressed at her delusions and denial.

“I just want to understand these emotions. Are they a witch’s, an Adepti’s or a human’s emotions? Not even these ropes are stopping them!” Shenhe tugs at the newly bound rope in frustration but stops at the touch of light fingertips.

Madam Ping smiles warmly down at Shenhe. “None of those answers are correct child. They are simply your emotions. And I believe deep down, you already know what you feel. You just don’t know what to do with them.”

Shenhe looks at the ground with a mixture of guilt and self-loathing swarming inside her. It was true, wasn’t it? That day you spoke her feelings in the bluntest way possible, but here she was, still trying to deny it.

“Then what do I do? Is it really okay to love someone that hurt you? I don’t want a repeat of my childhood… I just want to treasure and use this new chance at connecting with my entire self that the Creator has graced me with.”

The hand that pats her head is familiar and warm. Childhood memories of her shedding those human emotions she once thought weak come to mind before Madam Ping’s voice brings her back.

“Trusting in the Creator and following the path they opened for you, no matter how scary or concerning, is always the right path. Follow me Shenhe.” 

Madam Ping is quick to walk away toward the two temples, as Shenhe follows her swiftly. The Yiyan Temple for the Geo Archon is laughably small in comparison to the huge Welkin Temple behind it.

They climb the stairs past the Yiyan Temple and enter the luxurious archway leading into the Welkin Temple. Decorations laced with jewels, paintings of the highest caliber, and statues of the rarest minerals are a common sight in it.

As Liyue Harbors sole temple, the city and its citizens spared no expanse in making sure it was top-notch. That included the deceased Geo Archon who left it in the care of the Liyue Qixing before his passing.

The pair walked through the halls as many people prayed and worshiped within the dead of the night without care for the passing onlookers.

Everyone gathered here at this time of night is here to do the same thing after all.

A couple of people amble past the determined Adeptus and disciple into the barren clinic as physicians begin to care for them. The blood, bone, and missing parts of skin are applauded before quickly being catered to. 

Madam Ping enters the hallway where many citizens wait outside the rooms for their turn. Yet instead of stopping like Shenhe expected, the old woman brings her to a hidden staircase around the corner.

The two climb up and up, till they reach the rooftop where an alter sits. Shenhe is well aware what she must do for the answers she desires. Kneeling before it, Shenhe gratefully takes the ceremonial spear handed to her by Madame Ping.

“You have matured enough to earn the privilege of giving a piece of yourself to the Holy One. I can only excitedly wait for the day my own disciples can have this honor.” With a calm yet cheery chuckle, Madame Ping moves away from the grave faced Shenhe.

“Oh Holy Creator, God of all that has lived, lives, and lives on. Listen to this acolytes prayer and grant me but a crumb of your wisdom. Though I am foolish and mortal, your mercy shines down on in the form of that person.” 

The spear is raised into the air as Shenhe stays kneeling and points the spear down.

“Please, Divine One, show this wretched girl just how I’m supposed to make it up to Y/N.”

The spear drives down and the crimson droplets stain the altar like a dazzling flourish of rose petals.

Well this took a long while. This time it wasn't school but just personal stuff. Between house hunting, family feud, car problems, and just trying to keep up with school. I haven't got much of a break. But things have finally calmed down somewhat so I used it to get this done. What also helped was making the outline for the 1k special. I think I should have it done for the next update instead of the regular chapter. But I did notice that a good chunk wanted regular chapters instead so I got a compromise. The special features Mondstadt (as most sagau start in Mond so I thought it would be fun) and it'll be a teaser to what Mondstadt has in store for you all. I'm not sure how many of you have noticed but each region has a certain theme when it comes to worship. Inazuma with sacrificing, Liyue with self mutilation, and Mondstadt will be hinted at in the special. My editor, @serpent-benediction, did this super late last night so props for once. But if there are claims to being anything more than an editor then don't listen. I keep basically everybody in the dark. Kinda feel like death so if you have any questions or comments I will answer them as soon as I can read again. Taglist: is open for anyone so just comment if you want to join <3

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe

[werecreature-addicted]

I always wonder how many werewolf pups a woman could realistically carry since werewolves are always like, “You’ll give me a litter of pups.” Think about it. Are the pups the same size as human babies? Making werewolf x human pregnancies a big strain on the body carrying 3-4 in the womb at a time. Or are the pups drastically smaller than humans, and would be like 6-8 in the womb?

I know this is a stupid thought because it’d also imply that 3-8 eggs were released from the ovaries to get fertilized (excluding identical twins), and twins in humans are already pretty rare. Rarer with triplets and higher, as those don’t usually occur naturally without medical aid (fertility drugs/treatments).

Then you gotta think if werewolves are born in werewolf form, human form, puppy form, or even a new combination, looking human with wolf ears and a tail. I am thinking way too much about this. I blame your lovely blog for corrupting me with werewolf content <3

Thoughts? Or just what you’d wanna personally headcanon? I’m struggling obviously and needed to share my thoughts and opinions to the world. Sorry it’s a lot what I wrote.

I think realistically it would depend entirely on who in the partnership is the werewolf. If the person with a womb and carrying the babies was a werewolf then something like 3-5 pups at a time would be reasonable to expect, even if their lover was human. If the person carrying the baby was human 1-2 is much more likely.

I do think werewolf babies would be around the same size as human ones, but werewolves are huge so in comparison they're much smaller and easier for a werewolf to carry multiple at a time, but humans are shit out of luck with that one.

In my personal head cannon born, werewolves start to transform around 12-13 with puberty hitting, so they're born and spend most of their childhood in a human form. Transformations can be painful and difficult at first, you need to have a slightly more grown body to handle them.

Also- if Twilight has taught us nothing else it's taught us that humans could not survive giving birth to a monster baby. When their teeth grow in they are sharp fangs instead of normal baby teeth, and their razor-sharp fingernails are tough enough to dent most nail clippers. But other than that you have a cute baby who can pass for a human!

[vivalabunbun]

There Are Nothing But Flowers

Summary: You want to play house and he’s just hungry.

Word Count: 11.3K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), Modern AU, Vampire AU, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader,  TW: Medical gaslighting, description of medial treatments & corruption, TW: Blood & Blood drinking, vague mentions of violence, Contract Marriage AU, slight! enemies to lovers, Slow burn, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, slight orgasm denial, overstimulation, creampie, slight corruption kink, temperature play? you fall hard, slow fic, tragedy. 

Authors note: This is the other side to this work, your side of the story, please read the tags carefully. I wanted to explore the other side of the garden wall and themes of mortality, it’s heavy, please read when you feel well enough to see what lies beyond. Enjoy. 

Side note: the aftermath

“Honey, I’ll be off to work now.” A dapper man straightens out his tie, a briefcase in his other hand.

“Dear…aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Are my pants unzipped again?” His eyes darted down as disembodied laughter rang out in the unseen background.

“No, you forgot this.” The pattering of house slippers stops as the woman cradles her lover's face between her hands.

The kiss from her immaculately painted lips melted the wrinkles from his forehead as the taller man leaned into his deserved affection.

“Have a good day at work, my love.”

—

A quiet house on the hill, white picket fences, and a lovely dog wagging its tail in the green yard. Eyes watching the vibrancies dance along a small screen, blocking out the gray in the peripheral.

Everything about this drama was cliché, the plot slow and predictable, just mediocre. So perfectly mundane that your hand itches to grab it through the screen like a thief. But are you really a thief if you steal back what was taken from you? 

Before your mind can explore that comparison further a knock drags you out of the immersion, thumb quickly taps the screen to halt the fantasy. 

“Good evening, ma’am.” The doctor in his white uniform enters. 

“Hello, doctor.” 

Two polite smiles greet each other, neither truly reaching the eyes. Your hands neatly folded together, his fiddling with the chipboard which held your verdict.

Observing how his teeth bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes scanned the charts. Your hands remain still even as he takes a deep breath.

“Unfortunately it has spread beyond our initial expectations. The results show that it’s progressed to a late stage despite our best efforts. Right now, you only have a few treatment options left.”

What happened to ‘just that time of the month’, ‘just get fresh air’, and ‘just give it some time’? 

“There’s a series of procedures to cut out the spread, however, it might be very difficult as the infection is deep and intertwined with healthy tissue. The success rate is low, and the probability of it coming back is very high.” 

What happened to ‘you’re young and healthy, it’s nothing’? 

“The next possible treatment would be Kalpalata Lotuses. It has properties to slow inflections and has pain-reducing effects, however, it’s slow and inefficient in the long run. If you choose the first option you’ll have to pair it with treatment two. The first could give you fourteen years, the second on its own might only give you half of that.” 

What were these past months spent behind a glass prison all for? 

The constant hum of the machines filled in the dead space, the beeps on the monitors counting the passing seconds as two lips remained closed.

From the hallways, the chattering of nurses provided proof that the world in fact has not stopped spinning. Something dreadful filled the room, a silent suffocation. He was the first to fold. 

“Please take your time to think this decision over, I’ll leave you to get some rest. Have a good night ma’am.” There was a flutter of pages folding back down to the clipboard.

The doctors were letting you pick your poison, how thoughtful of them. 

Just as before two polite smiles that didn’t reach the eyes acknowledged each other, with a nod the doctor took his leave, eager to end his shift, to escape the unseen hands.

Not a word slipped past your lips during the one-sided conversation, tongue unable to string together a single sentence. What is there left to say? 

As you lay back down your fingers brushed against the screen, restarting the episode as the laughter of an audience resonated along the sterile walls. 

Maybe if the doctors, with their acclaimed degrees and status, were just a little more attentive.

Maybe if they didn’t simply see you as a lady with nonsensical symptoms.

Maybe if they didn’t view you as a statistic.

Then you wouldn’t have collapsed that day at work.

Then you wouldn’t have spent grueling months undergoing diagnosis after diagnosis.

Then maybe just maybe the Pythagorean Cup wouldn’t have surpassed its threshold, emptying out all hope. 

The dialogue continues but it’s all but a fuzzy ringing now. Eyes watching the passing car lights dance upon the gray ceiling from the late evening traffic of workers, with their white or blue collars, eager to return home. 

You longed for that, to return there. Hands itching to rip out the tube from your arm and the sensor with its pitched beeps. 

Fourteen years, fourteen years of what? Bed sores from thin sheets? Chest pains at too deep of breaths? Stitches recovering only to be ripped open again? 

Sounds more like a punishment delivered deep underground in a place whose temperature rivals the surface of a burning star. 

Was it because you cursed at the man who cut you in line once?

Was it because you stole your college roommate’s sweater?

Was it because you never brought offerings to the Sanctuary of Surasthana? 

Were you such a despicable person in a past life that the sins carried over? 

Heavy lids closed to soothe the burning in your eyes, letting the warm trails run down your cheek. Reining your senses back from its escapade with a slow breath. 

No. It’s none of that. It’s just life, capricious life. Capricious life that took your parents and now is hunting you. 

There’s no karmic debt to pay off, there’s no faceless god to pray to. Setting one foot onto the path of true adulthood, only for your eyes to spot the end just over the horizon. What can you do? 

The jumbled laughs and fuzzy speeches coming from your phone’s speaker were becoming too much. Thus you rolled your heavy body over to silence it. Once again the world outside the window was in view, the soft orange glow from the office right across leaking into the suffocating grey. 

Oh, he’s at his desk tonight. 

Wet eyes watch as the ashen-haired being shifts through sheets of crisp paper and his pen moving constantly. It’s strange, a bit mocking even, that an immortal creature could be so mundane.

Maybe that’s why their office is just across the Bimarstan, to taunt those who longed for that reality, beckoning them to sign their names on a dotted line. 

Candace’s words were right, it’s a predatory scheme. 

Perhaps hold habits die hard, after all, vampires are creatures of the night that once terrorized generations of humans. 

Shielded by the panes of glass separating the two buildings, it was safe to continue this strange routine. Is staring at a stranger considered stalking if they’re the only view the windows offer? 

He got up from his desk, moving towards the filing cabinet just off to the side, allowing for his profile to come into view. 

He’s handsome, features outshining any of the male leads you’ve seen in movies. 

Teal eyes, ashen hair like moonlight, tall and broad stature. It’s no mystery why so many heroes and heroines fell into depravity, lured in by their beauty, entranced minds blindly offering up their everything. 

You weren’t special enough to be immune. Hence, why you continued to watch the nameless vampire who doesn’t know yours. Resting your cheek upon the stiff pillow, the feeling in your arm decreases like the cars in the streets. The pitched beeps keeping time.

He stood back up from his desk again, one hand grabbing the coat thrown over the back of a chair. Placing pens back into a cup and paper back into folders, he walks to the door before his hand shuts off the warm orange light. 

It looks like tonight’s episode has ended on time like always. Rolling back to stare at the drab ceiling, allowing blood to rush back into your arm as the sensation of pins and needles crawled up. It wasn’t bothersome, as tonight's viewing evoked entertaining thoughts. 

What a punctual vampire, where does he go after midnight? To a tavern or home?

Is someone waiting at the door for him there? Welcoming him back with soft lips?

Is that why he’s so eager to leave?

Your lids were growing heavy, the view of a blank ceiling wanes your alertness. The sweet curiosities coax you to continue in the realm of dreams, you listened to their call. 

Could you be that someone? 

“So, how ya feeling?” Dehya places down a container filled with baklava. 

“Mmm…”

The metal legs of the visitor's chair scraped across the floor as she awaits your response.

“Would you still be my friend if I was a rock, Dehya?”

“Ahh, not this again.” She rolls her eyes. 

Sitting upright in the hospital bed, hands folded together you awaited her response.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll still love you to bits even if you’re a pebble or something,” Dehya sighs, but there’s an upward tilt in her lips. 

“I’ll love you too.” You helped yourself to some baklava. 

A reward for your diversion of a miserable topic with sweet nonsense and special words. After all, she’s got a difficult job during the night, no need to make the day as difficult. Your mother used to say to save such words only for a special someone, but that’s the point of a word if it's never used?

–

“So, a few weeks ago I took this assignment that–” Dehya’s sapphire eyes moved behind you, gazing out the window where the sunlight poured in. 

“Ugh, his office is right across from you.” 

“Who?”

“Alhaitham, he’s a vampire I had the misfortune of meeting during a job, not that he’d remember.” 

So the vampire’s name was Alhaitham, it felt nice on your tongue. 

“Oh? How come?” 

“He just always talks in long, convoluted sentences, and in that snooty tone, snooty even for a vampire.” Dehya takes a piece of baklava to ease her from that bitter work experience. 

“My, I wonder how his spouse bares with him.” The bait was set out. 

“Pfft?! Ahaha! Who? It’s nearly impossible to spend five minutes by his side.” 

“Mm, really?” 

“No ring on his finger. From what I’ve gathered even other vampires can’t stand that personality of his.” Dehya takes another piece. 

Success. 

–

The container of baklava now only holds a few crumbs and traces of sweet syrup. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon, a sign that your friend’s visit was coming to an end.

After all, she’s got a duty to fulfill as a hunter that maintains the balance between mortals and creatures who dare cross the boundaries of the law. 

Right as your hand returns from the air after bidding goodbye, it lands on the cold screen of your phone. In an age of growing cities and ever-advancing technologies, you’re grateful for these developments. As it makes your next actions possible.

It’s hard to miss a name when the letters are written in bold, imposing signs along the building just beyond the panes of glass.

As per Sumeru regulation, all employed vampires must be listed on company sites, an attempt at keeping track of such creatures. 

Scrolling page after page until eyes landed upon familiar ash-mint trusses.

Name: Alhaitham

Species: Vampire (Born)

Title: Secretary

Years At Company: 168

Fingers clicked on the next tab. 

“To apply for a blood contract, one must bring personal identification, and fill out an application during an appointed consultation with the vampire present. Once the boundaries of the contract are established, it will go through the approvement process.” 

Eyes moved to the next tab.

“Seven years is the maximum time for a singular contract, but it can be renewed every seven years. Both parties must fulfill the terms written on the contract. The value of a contract is determined by the amount of blood offered on a regular basis or in a future deposit. Applying for a contract that gives the maximum, 10 pints, in a full sum amount must pass a psychological evaluation.” 

--

Fourteen years is an unjustly cruel fate, but seven… Seven might be tolerable. After all, it’s often called the number of luck, you wonder if vampires were aware of this, maybe that’s why they chose that arbitrary number. 

Waiting as the sun disappears behind the horizon with your head resting against the stiff pillow. The warm orange glow from the office across from you signaled the start of tonight’s episode. Observing every stop and start of his pen as two voices wrangled your thoughts. 

There was a guest featured in this episode it seems, another vampire enters the office with a fresh stack of paper. He seemed eager for Alhaitham’s approval, even going as far as offering a pen out from his own pocket. However, this plan was foiled by a simple rise of hand by the male lead. 

The universal signal for rejection. 

The guest seemed dumbstruck. The only explanation the silver-haired lead gave was a simple gesture toward a clock. The guest’s hands were moving frantically as if to convey the urgency of the papers piled up.

However, Alhaitham simply takes his coat from the back of his chair and shuts off the warm light. 

In the murky darkness, your eyes could just barely make out the silhouettes of two figures traversing out of the office. Oh, tonight’s episode has ended just on time as always. 

How shamelessly punctual that vampire is. Some might even call it selfish. But what’s wrong with being selfish? After all, all true passions in life in the end are thinly veiled excuses for selfishness. 

If life wanted to be shamelessly selfish, then why can’t you? With that, it seems one voice has finally emerged victorious. 

Your fingers crept towards a button just off to the side, a quiet ding resounding as the bright glow flashed. Breaths counting the minutes before a set of footsteps stopped in front of your room, followed by a polite knock. 

“Is there something you need, ma’am?”

“Yes, I want to discharge myself tomorrow, as soon as possible.”

Your eyes traced over the too-long string of zeros printed on the check, hands wanting to crumble up the slip of paper. So this is how much your life was worth. Standing outside the Bimarstan, you peered up at the tall building that once caged you. 

Were the administrators looking down at you at this moment from their high offices? Were they watching your reaction to their little bribe? Pushing you to keep your lips shut, so that their mistakes and misjudgments won’t reach the ears of the press? 

It doesn’t really matter now, but it was thoughtful of them to hand out an extra bargaining chip. Refocusing your attention back on the building just across the street, there were still some preparations to finish.  

–

The time was now 6:30 pm, the sun has ran off into the night allowing for the stars to guide you back to the building just beyond the glass.

A simple bag held your offerings: proof of identity, property documents, doctor's notes, and bank statements handsomely topped off with the help of a certain check. 

There’s a jitter in your legs as you stood just beyond the threshold of the sliding doors. Is it really the right thing to do?

What would be the look on the faces of your dearest friends?

Would the handsome stranger show last night’s gesture to you too? 

Your lungs steadily filled with the crisp air, pushing their capacity almost to the point of pain, you exhaled. 

The right thing to do is to be selfish, they’ll understand sooner or later, and the worst thing he could do is say no.

Even if you leave with your cheeks burning in shame, the burn would only last seven years. Your feet stepped past the threshold and the glass doors parted. 

“Excuse me, is Mr. Alhaitham here tonight?” You already knew the answer. 

“Hm? Yes… Are you looking for him, youngster?” The receptionist quirks a brow at you. 

“Yes, I want to schedule a contract consultation with him right now.” You take note of her name tag. 

“Hold just one moment, the secretary-”

“Is his schedule occupied right now?” 

“No, but if you’d let me finish, Alhaitham isn’t one of the vampires that usually accept such-”  

“Please, Madam Faruzan?” 

You weren’t sure if it was the polite address of her name or the plead in your gaze that was the cause of the decisive furrow between her brows. However, her shoulders slumped forward as a huff leaves her lips. 

“Alright, please follow me.” She gestures a hand, welcoming you to the elevator just behind the desk. 

“Thank you.” 

Within the confines of the fancy cart, the blue-haired vampire asks over and over if you had all the correct documents, listing each one out. Your skilled ears tuned every word out, nodding along to feign attention. Finally, the saving grace of a pleasant ding signals the chart’s stop at its destination. 

When the polished doors slid apart, you charged out into the floor, your legs guiding you to the office with the clearest view of your old glass cage.

From behind you, Faruzan called out your name as she mutter something about how humans these days are always in just a rush. Your ears could care less about her words. 

Gallivanting through the threshold of his open office door, you finally came face to face with the male lead you’ve been fawning over.

As his eyes meet yours, you observed the brilliant shades of teal and ocher in them. Really, the view from across two panes of glass couldn’t detail his true beauty. 

“Hello, Mr. Alhaitham.” You beamed your best smile. 

The pattering of steps behind you comes to a stop as Faruzan finally catches up exasperated at your impatience. 

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.” 

The weight of his teal gaze shifted back on your frame after your late introduction, assessing the situation as you awaited his response. 

“I see.” He nods while walking out from behind the desk, pulling out the chair in front of it.

The receptionist took her cue to leave the room, shutting the office door on the way out. The room now balanced with just one mortal and one immortal. 

You paid no mind to his words as you settled down into the seat, after all, you’ve already read through them. Instead, your ears absorbed his timbre tone and smooth cadence. What a dangerously beautiful voice, it’s beckoning you towards the murkier waters. 

“What are your demands?” 

“Marry me.” Your lips blurted the truth out before shame got the chance to stop them.

Remember, the worst he could do is to show you the door. 

–

In truth, you were preparing yourself to see the open palm of his large hand as he rejects your ridiculous proposal. Yet, here you were, still in his office. Sitting just across the expanse of his dark oak desk, all your documents scattered across it as Alhaitham’s pen guided across a form. 

“What are the living arrangements you expect?” He doesn’t glance up from the paper.

“Mm… Would moving into your home be possible? Married couples usually live together.” 

“That’s possible. Expectations for domestic and financial responsibilities?” 

“I can’t work, so I don’t mind taking care of the house. But, I do want us to share some chores, so I don’t go insane.” You wonder if the ends of his lips would curl at your humor.

“I see.” The pen continues to record the sentences down on the form. 

You kept the smile up despite the sting of failure. 

“So… How much blood do vampires need?” Best to move on. 

“It depends. Humans can give at most two pints of blood safely, and only once every two months.”

“You only need to feed once every two months?”

“Yes, would that be an issue?” 

Lips parted, your next sentence dangles just off the tip of it. However, it seems that Alhaitham had already read them. 

“Mortal medicine has no effect on our bodies.” 

“Are there any restrictions on affection? Any personal boundaries?” You pivoted to another question. 

The pen stops for a moment, his teal eyes shifting off the paper for just a brief moment as he evaluates numerous scenarios, or at least that’s what you think he’s doing. 

“Deep kisses are not permitted.” Alhaitham’s teal eyes pierced straight into yours as he delivered the verdict. 

It’s silly really, you really don’t have the right to demand an ounce of touch from him, you aren’t entitled to his personal space. However, something still made your stomach sink. 

“Oh?... May I ask why?”

“There runs the risk of blood contamination through exchanging saliva, our incisors are quite sharp.” 

Oh. You read between the lines he penned down. The most sacred law of this age, a time where mortals and immortals walk alongside each other: vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings. 

He’s being precautious, after all the price he’d have to pay for a drop of his blood tainting yours is far greater than anything you could offer. Yet, the greed deep within you wouldn’t stay silent. 

“Are closed-mouth kisses okay then?” Haggling the clauses like you were at a market stall. 

Once more the pen stops as he contemplates your bargain. 

“Yes.” 

“The contract has been submitted to the legal department. If you pass the evaluation, it’ll be approved by the end of this month. I look forward to your cooperation.” 

And with his disembodied voice over the phone, he accepts your proposal. Alhaitham agreed to play the role of your husband. The anticipation that weighed down your shoulders for the past three days was finally lifted. Hopefully he can’t hear your idiotic grin through the phone. 

Success. 

—

“No, I won’t accept this.” Dehya slams her glass down, unfazed by the glances from surrounding tables. 

“Please reconsider your decision.” Candace gives you her disapproving gaze. 

Shifting your eyes over to Nilou, poor sweet Nilou whose wide eyes could only convey the word ‘why?’. The interrogation after showing the ring to your dearest friends was much more intense than the evaluation you underwent to get the marriage approved. 

However, it’s to be expected. After all, two of the people at this table were hunters. If anyone knew the true brutality vampires hold, it would be them. 

Tapping on the screen of your phone to reveal the time. Of course, you won’t arrive at this negotiation unprepared. Glancing back up to face the counsel of your friends, a honeyed smile on your lips. 

“Would you guys have the time to accompany me to a doctor’s visit?” 

–

That took longer than you expected, walking out of the sliding glass doors which reflect the everchanging hues of dusk. The cause for this extended session at the Bimarstan was the numerous times your dearest guests made the poor doctor repeat your verdict. 

Each time hoping that something different would leave his mouth. Peering up at the building across the street, you wonder if he’s getting ready to leave the house soon. 

The closing of the automatic doors draws your attention back to the three figures who followed behind you. Pensiveness eyes downcasted as their minds continued to digest the events that have unfolded. 

“Pfft! What’s with this atmosphere?” A giggle leaves your breath, it’s unbefitting for a gathering of friends. 

“I won’t force you to attend my wedding if you don’t want to. However, I’ll be quite the lonely bride without any bridesmaids.” There was your honeyed smile again.

They could say no, they could beg you to drink the first poison offered by the doctors, they could ask you to give them more time, to give yourself more time. But they won’t. You knew they won’t.

Unlike you, they’re selfless and heedful, all your fortune in life must’ve been spent on finding such dear friends. 

You’re the only selfish one. 

There are many things you like about Alhaitham. Even excluding his excellent physique, his starlight hair and beryl-citrine eyes, he’s got the perfect traits of a life partner. He satisfies all the aspects of the ideal husband. Never leaving you wanting or hungry. You could list all his positive traits.

–

One, by simply holding out a hand, he’ll place his black card onto your awaiting palm. Not even batting an eye when you returned home from a ‘simple grocery run’ in a new set of clothes with the tags still on.

When you mentioned to him that a TV would look nice on the empty living room wall, he ordered one on the same day. How dreamy. 

–

Two, he’s quite the interesting specimen. 

“So, if someone were to douse you with blessed water, your flesh won’t burn?” 

“No.” 

Alhaitham humors your ridiculous inquires about his species, enlightening you to just how inaccurate those films and shows you loved were.

He even humors the trivial anniversaries, celebrations, and dates inspired by any recent dramas you fancied. The wedding was proof enough: he tolerates your fantasies. 

–

Three, what you liked most of all: he’s too smart to ask redundant questions. After all, he’s read the files, he’s seen the diagnosis.

It’s not some secret that shall not be told, not a monster that shall not be named. Just like how there’s no point in telling someone the sky is blue, there’s nothing left to say about the doctor's notes.

No surprises, no sudden alarms, just the artificially sweet lull of domestic life. 

–

Performing the part of a doting husband with such spectacular accuracy, you could almost mistake it as sincere.

You applaud the amount of skill it takes. However, costars are meant to bring out the best in each other, pushing one another past their thresholds for an excellent show. 

The slightest blunders of lines and facial muscles couldn’t fool your expert gaze. It does take one to know one. 

–

“Haitham,” you called out. 

Setting down the two servings of biryani on the dinner table, the rich spices perfumed through the halls. It only takes one call for Alhaitham to come out from his library, halting for a second at the threshold of the kitchen before swiftly composing himself once more. 

“Dinner is ready, it’s biryani tonight.” You gestured for him to take a seat, a smile ever present on your lips. 

“Thank you.” He takes his place. 

You take your place just across the table, wasting no time enjoying the fruit of labor after standing over a stove. Every grain of rice perfectly coated in the right amount of seasoning, just the correct level of richness. The recipe you followed online deserved its high rating, it’s delicious. 

Traveling across the length of the dinner table, your leaden gaze landed upon the figure who has yet to touch his meal. That must’ve been enough for him to take his cue, bringing a spoon full into his mouth, chewing then shallowing. 

“How is it?” Resting an elbow on the polished oak.

“You’ve worked hard on this dish, thank you.” He takes another bite. 

Letting out a pleased hum, you released him from this scene. Turning your attention back to your own meal. 

You’ll clear your plate in about twenty more bites, and he’ll continue to push the contents of his plate around once in a while faking a bite. Then after you’re finished, he’ll swiftly offer to clear the table and dishes, telling you to retire to the bedroom for rest. 

A clever diversion from his ultimate goal of dumping your cooking into the trash. You’ve gone through this script for two years now. 

It’s practically impossible to completely suppress one’s true intentions and instincts. Alhaitham can’t fully prevent the corners of his lips from down-turning every time you address him with that botched nickname. 

He can’t entirely stop the sigh escaping his lips whenever you call for him to help with menial tasks, unbefitting for such a noble creature. 

He can’t suppress the repulsive scrunch of his nose every time your cooking assaults his palate, the same reaction witnessed during the bi-monthly feeding sessions.

The same disgust he has of your blood, you thought mortal medicines has no effect on such beings, an oversight on his part. 

He’s not as much of a mastermind as he might think, after all, he’s the one who allowed a piece of paper to be dangled over his head. Placing the power of clauses into the palm of your awaiting hand. 

You tell him ‘jump’, and he’ll ask how high with disdain thinly veiled behind brilliant teal.

Humans are defined by their curiosity and greed, mortal hands always playing chicken with a boundary, testing how far they could go. You’re not special enough to be different.

Perhaps the only time he gets the advantage is when you bare your neck for him. Fangs hastily piercing skin, hands a bit too harsh around the neck. He wants it to hurt, you know. 

Too bad, months spent at the hospital trained your tolerance to such sensations. 

If life wants to entangle its fingers into your hair and cruelly tow you to and fro, why can’t you enjoy that same feeling? You’ll just grasp at any wisp of control, you’re a simple human after all. You’d even grasp onto death to stable yourself.

Mortal self-interest versus immortal apathy, what a disastrous harmony. 

Ah, you slept a bit too long. Extended nap causing you to miss a scheduled cup of tea. Tapping a finger along the cool marble countertop you watched the kettle boil.

Frame resting against the counter, each tap against the marble was a futile attempt at distraction. Kalpalata Lotus’ effects can only last four hours, what a shame. 

The steady rhythm of taps interrupted now and then by a pulse of pain as the leaves steeped. Starting deep within your core then crawling it’s up to your lungs like a shadow overtaking a frail flower. 

This must be your warranted punishment for a transgression committed over the weekend. Dragging a creature of the night into the bright, unwelcoming sun all for a silly farmer’s market. Alhaitham’s slumped figure and worn tone were the cue. 

You thought vampires weren’t like how the drama portrayed them, but perhaps there’s some truth, an oversight on your part.

You played chicken with that boundary and got burned, how will you soothe the wounds of guilt now? 

Foregoing honey this time, you hastily swallowed the entire contents of the cup. No matter how fast you push the tea down your throat, no matter how many spoonfuls of honey you put into it: it’s unpalatable. 

The herbal tang dried the inside of your mouth, yet the bitterness made your salivary glands go into overdrive. This is what purgatory is like, huh? 

The chime of your ringtone snapped you back to reality. Glancing over at the screen: Candace. A call so late, she’s at work now, isn’t she?

Swiftly pushing down the bitterness that lingered, clearing your throat before accepting the call. 

“Hello?”

“Good evening, how are you feeling, any discomfort?” 

“Pfft! The diligent Candace gets on her phone during work just to check up on me? I’m swooned.” Your bell-like laughter made the pain worse as it rang through the empty house. 

From the other side, you could pick up the faint giggle, you envision her fighting back a smile. 

“Yes, yes. But more importantly, where are you now?” 

“Home, why? Did you want to visit? I got some baklava.” 

“Good, stay there.” There’s an instant switch to the mood. 

“Mm?” You hummed, passively acknowledging the tension. 

“Please stay inside. There’s a rouge vampire at large, hunters are scattered all throughout the city.” 

Leaving you with a cliffhanger, she knew you’d want a taste of the details. You’ll bite. 

“Oh? That serious, what did they do?” 

“He turned his lover.” 

Goosebumps ran up your neck in the perfectly tempered room. That vampire crossed the forbidden line in the sand, straight into the ocean of inevitable demise. 

The most sacred rule results in the most miserable end. Once caught, his chest will be pierced with silver, heart torn from his body. She doesn’t need to detail those, you already knew. 

“Oh?” 

“His lover has been located, they’re receiving treatment, unsure of the status. However, you should tell your husband to be careful.” 

“I should be saying that to you. Stay safe out there, he’s probably on his way back anyways.” Your eyes glanced at the clock, 11: 59 pm. 

“Alright, I will. You should really rest, it’s so late.” 

“Mm? Says you, Candace. Tell Dehya I said to stay out of trouble.” 

She hums in response. Right after you chimed your farewell and right before she disconnected the call, you slipped in one more line. 

“Please stay safe.” Addressed to no one person in particular. 

–

The hands on the clock now read 3: 21 am, a fresh cup of tea now rested in between your hands. Eye reflecting back at you, still no message, not a single call. His voicemail now ingrained into your ears. 

In an age where humans and vampires now live side by side, it’d be naive to believe that such arrangements are free from prejudice. After all, centuries of fear and hatred don’t just vanish into the air like the vapors of hot tea.

If a vampire is slain during a hunt, a creature unrelated to the true prey, oh well. 

It was for the greater good, it was to maintain the peace, to ensure humanity’s safety. You’re not in the mood to debate such flimsy excuses. 

–

It’s now 4: 34 am, the blushing hues of dawn were just about to creep through the curtains by the front door. Your legs begged for rest, your shoulders heavy, but you refused to leave your post. 

Finally, the clink of keys slotting into place sang through the entranceway. The heavy oak door opens, you don’t need to study his expression, he’s disappointed to see you. 

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your command. 

“I went drinking with coworkers.”

You know, you could smell it on him. 

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?”

Alhaitham doesn’t bother to suppress his deep exhale, nor the downward tug at his lips. Disdain meets disappointment, eyes and frowns locked into a staredown as the hands of a clock kept time.

In the peripheral you spot warm orange chasing away the pink, clearing the way for the most brilliant star. Oh, it looks like your wound wasn’t soothed enough. You closed your eyes. 

What went wrong with the script? 

You. 

It’s not selfishness, it’s plain immaturity. Immaturity breeds cruelty. The same immature cruelty of a curious child who ripped off the hypnotically beautiful wings of a butterfly. 

Perhaps the corruption of your tissues has made its way into your personality, an unforeseen consequence of that herbal tea. Or maybe your transgressions were the influence of a green-eyed monster. Immortality gives him an overabundance of what you’re deprived of. 

But it’s not his fault, it’s not an unseen monster’s fault, it’s your immaturity that’s ruining this performance. 

This just won’t do. With the script going awry long ago, there’s no use in trying to follow it, the two of two should conserve your energy.

It’s best to rewrite it again, to say lines that’ll move the scene along in the right direction, to save this domestic drama. You’ll be the first to fold. 

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed. 

Lids opening back up to catch his gaze again, restrained and artificially blank as always. Still, he’s got beautiful eyes. 

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

Alhaitham knows that, so his lips remain still.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call, I got worried.” 

Another deep exhale from him. 

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either. But if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text, so I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.” 

The discoloration under your eyes, the slump of your heavy shoulders, and the unsteadiness of your knees. He’s observing them all, isn’t he? A pro-actor accesses the situation before deciding how to respond to an ad-lib. 

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers. 

What a typical response for him, but maybe not so much for a husband. 

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know: ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted. 

You’ll suppress your giggles for now, this successful pivot of a dreadful scene caused a grin to break out on your face. One that reaches your eyes. 

Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek, tying the ending together with repetition that’s now become a habit. 

“Welcome home, Haitham.” 

“Closed… for construction?...” Your eyes trailed across the bolded letters. 

The grand garden was blocked off by iron gates and mossy stonewalls, path dimly lit by dull streetlamps. 

It’s your third anniversary, to celebrate a new chapter, a reworked script, you planned this special itinerary. The Pardis Dhyai was the grandest garden in all of Sumeru, and they offered night tours. It was perfect, but it seems that you miscalculated.

“It’s negligence on their part for not having this notification on their website.” Alhaitham’s baritone voice draws you from your thoughts. 

You must look so idiotic right now. Getting all dressed up and even coaxing him from the comfort of the house just to bring Alhaitham to a wall. You didn’t fight the slump of your shoulders, the fires of shame licked at your cheeks. You feel the weight of his teal eyes. 

“The street market is open tonight, would you like to go there instead?” 

What a good husband, stepping in to remedy his wife’s mistakes. Finally gathering the courage to connect with his gaze, you notice the faint twitch of his nose as a breeze passed by. 

“Do you not like flowers?” 

“Their fragrance is overbearing.” 

Recalling the times you’ve shoved an excessive bouquet in front of his face during previous anniversaries, the familiar burn of guilt crept up your back. You just can’t do anything right tonight, huh? 

“There’s no point in standing around.” He stretched out a hand towards you, palms waiting. 

“... Heh, it’s a good thing it’s closed then huh, Haitham?” Placing your warm hand into his cold grasp, a meek smile stretches your lips. 

Alhaitham hums in response, mercifully guiding you in the direction of the night market. As you walked along the dimly illuminated path, your eyes traveled back to the stonewall once more, its height towering even over your husband. 

“I’ve never visited this place before… what a shame…” The comment slipped your tongue before you could bite it back. 

Alhaitham promptly stops, turning back to glance between you and the mossy wall. The lullabies of crickets filled the nothingness, much like they did during the wedding night. The smile on your face grew tighter, he must think you’re whining. 

“Woah??-” 

Before you could conquer up a line to transition from this scene, Alhaitham had released your hand, only for his arms to hoist you off the ground.

Tender hold balancing you against his firm frame, you had to tilt your neck down to look at his face. Following the subtle motion of his head you looked in the same direction, eyes widening as realization dawned upon you. 

The garden wall towered over the two of you, but as one, you were able to peer over the craggy barrier that once blocked your view. Wind blowing the floral fragrance over your face unobstructed. 

“What do you see?” The deep vibrations of his chest resonate against your body.

There was no one here tonight. Just a husband and wife enjoying a moment so private, not even the moon dare intrude. Sweetness meddling with bitter guilt, crafting something bittersweet.

“Flowers…very beautiful flowers,” you answered, gazing beyond the stones. 

“It’s a garden after all.” 

“Pfft!”

The contrast between this gentle scene and his curt response pushes a laugh from your breath. 

Patting his arm, you signaled for him to place you down, and carefully he follows your instruction. Once your feet touched the solid earth again, you pressed your face into his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“It’s our anniversary.” The justification of his actions. 

“Of course… now let’s go, I want to try the samosas there!” The brightness returns back to your lips. 

This time, you lead the way. Warm hands mingle with his cold ones, creating a comfortable temperature as you gallivanted along as one. Under the moonless sky, you told him your first true lie, a full lie. 

–

How troublesome, you said you’d clean the library tonight. Looking around at the piles of books littered all throughout and the coating of dust. If only a nap didn’t eat away at the day, then maybe you wouldn’t be so pressed for time. 

Oh well, rolling up your sleeves to begin your promised duty. No use in mulling over it, and no use in blaming the nap either. It’s to be expected, after all, tea time is now every three hours. 

Alhaitham’s collection of books is nothing to scoff at, in fact, you’re willing to wager his collection rivals those of academic archives.

How long did it take for him to gather them? What criteria must they fit to catch his interest?

Small inquiries bloomed through your thoughts as each journal slid back into its rightful shelves. 

It can’t be helped. Finally, after four years, you’re now allowed past the threshold of his library. The last corner of the house which was wholly his. You’re allowed a glimpse into his sanctuary. The exhilaration from this privilege was enough to outweigh the tediousness. 

Eyes switching back and forth between the two covers currently in your hands. So focused on deciding between which shelves to place them your ears failed to pick up the poised footsteps coming your way. It took a pair of adamant hands on your shoulders to wake you from these thoughts

“Why weren’t you at the door?” A familiar baritone voice.

Oh, you weren’t mindful of the time at all. Meeting teal irises as you glanced back over a shoulder, not missing the ghost of a furrow between his brow. Alhaitham isn’t one who’s fond of deviations from a practiced script. 

“Sorry, sorry I got caught up in these books.” You couldn’t help but giggle. 

Placing the books back down and spinning around, cradling his face between your warm palms, you carefully placed a kiss on his cold lips. 

“Welcome home, Haitham.” You whispered against them. 

Alhaitham hummed as his eyes closed, savoring the sensation of your warmth transferring to him. How unbefitting of such a noble creature, melting into the touch of a mere mortal. What a beautiful view to witness, so lovely in fact, a certain phrase clawed its way to the tip of your tongue. 

“I...” You waited for his brilliant beryl eyes to reveal themselves again.

The soft trills of crickets creep in through the window, a call back to a night when an executive decision was reached by both parties to remove necessary lines from the script.

“… wonder if you collect books in place of company.” You’ll heed their warning. 

There was a sigh that filled the distance between you. 

“They’re great stimulants for the mind, perhaps you should read some.” No hesitation in his sardonic counter to your playfulness. 

“Pfft! Haitham, I can’t read half of these languages.” 

 It’ll be redundant to reinstate such words into a script that wasn’t written for it no? A part of you wonders if the quip was supposed to be a diversion from the faint downward pull of his lips.

The windows were cracked ajar allowing the crisp night breeze into the sanctuary of the bedroom, the new air circulating through helped push out the stuffiness. However, Summer was always too hot for you.

“Haitham.” Under the glow of a waxing moon, your hands reached out. 

Soon, the cool cheeks of your husband settled into the space between your palms, taking away the excess heat. You brought him closer, allowing your foreheads to touch. 

To never be bothered by the polar extremes of temperature, how nice it is to be born of the supernatural. 

“Mmm… It’s been a while, aren’t you hungry?” You broke the comfortable silence. 

“I’m fine.” Two firm arms pulled you closer. 

His gray lashes were still shut, concealing away the teal stained with hints of scarlet. A tell-tale sign. It’s about five years too late for him to lie to you. Like a stubborn child refusing to take his medicine, where did the arrogant vampire go?

It’ll be best to change tactics, everything must have its fair compensation, a principle Alhaitham follows to its core. Sliding your hands away from his face and down along the contour of his body as your face rests into the crook of his neck.

“It’s really hot tonight.” Warm palms sneaking under the barrier of a shirt. 

There’s a hiss that sounds next to your ear as two hands firmly grasp your hips. Emboldened by his reaction, your hands continued to explore his sculpted frame, icy skin stealing away the warmth that smothered you. Alhaitham’s fingers kneaded your hips in contemplation. Moving closer to his ear, your breath ghosted over them. 

“Haitham, can you make it go away?” The final push. 

A deep growl reverberated against his chest, a sign of his surrender to your whims. A gasp is knocked out of your lips as your back meets with the plush mattress. This time two icy palms traversed the sweltering outline of your skin, goosebumps trailing behind his every touch. 

You hummed at the sensation as his hands travel further up, pushing the troublesome fabric of your shirt out of the way, exposing your soft breast to the air. A moan slipped off your tongue as Alhaitham gropes at the soft mounds, placing a kiss in the valley between them, cold fingers playing with the nipples now perked. 

Wrapping your legs around his solid frame, your hands tugged at the shirt that blocked your view of his godly body. A silent whine for him to take it off, and like the good husband he is, Alhaitham complies. In return, your shirt was also stripped from your frame, a fair trade. Cheeks stained red from shame your mind was too muddled to process, you blame it on the heat. 

More icy kisses trailed along your chest and neck, as cool fingers sneaked under the waistband of your shorts. His icy touches land straight against your puffy lips, labia glistening with slickness. You flinched at the sudden temperature change against your pussy, and his hand twitched at the small surprise. 

“Wet already, and nothing underneath…” Alhaitham’s baritone voice reports his finding against your ear. 

“Mmm,” you sounded out, shivering at the combination of his voice and teasing fingers. 

“How lewd.” 

“You don’t like it?”

Instantly, a stiff mass was pressed against the softness of your thighs. 

“Do I seem displeased?” 

Entangling your fingers into ashen locks, you let a giggle flutter your chest against his. Two hearts beating on opposite sides. Shorts pulled off the length of your legs and kicked to the side, leaving you bare underneath his mercy.

Rolling your hips against his cool palms to generate some friction, your clit begging for an ounce of attention. A quick slap against the sensitive bud jolts your body as you moan, a swift punishment for your impatience. 

As if to soothe the lingering sting, his fingers circle the bundle causing your legs to shiver as pleasure runs up them. Your folds release more of their essence, Alhaitham’s fingers collect it, tracing your entrance with fleeting touches. The heat engulfing your body was beginning to become too much, your walls clenching around nothing desperately. Your legs pull him closer, attempting to spur on the tempo. 

Your feeble strength is nothing against his, Alhaitham effortlessly pulls away from your trap. A whine left your throat as even his ashen locks freed themselves from your grasp. 

“Shh, let me have a taste first.” He pulls you toward the edge of the bed. 

Vascular hands gripping onto your thighs, spreading them open to allow him unobstructed access to your dripping greed. A firm hold denies you the opportunity to slither away from the cool breaths hitting your pussy lips. 

Alhaitham’s tongue teases its way between your folds, collecting your escaped honey into his mouth as he releases a satisfied grunt. Licking stripes along your pussy, cool lips brushing against your sensitive clit. Your fingers found their way back to his silken locks, the back of your hand blocking your mouth. 

Objecting against your cruel act of denying him the privilege of your moans, a finger was abruptly thrusted into your soaked walls with a squelch, causing your back to arch off the sheets. Hand no longer able to withhold the sinful sounds from his awaiting ears. 

  Another finger soon makes its way into your gummy walls, sliding to curl against that one spot deep within before sliding out and repeating. All the while his lips closed around your delicate bud, suckling and abusing it with his brutish tongue. 

He was supposed to cool you down in this unbearable heat, yet your body only burned more under his ministration. Your walls desperately clenched down as your fingers tightened their hold on his ashen hair, trying to find any perch for your sanity to cling to. 

Your actions only spurred him on, harsh sucks to your swollen clit and fingers increasing their pace. He wanted to ravish you wholly, to leave you a mess beyond saving. White flashes shoot up your trembling legs still held apart by his iron grip. If he continues then you might really fall beyond the grace of help. 

“S-slower.”

Your slurred speech must’ve made your words incoherent, as Alhaitham only added more force behind his movements. Your slicked walls clenched around his fingers as they continued to pinpoint your weak spot, the messy licks and sucks at your clit causing the knot in your core to grow tighter and tighter. Or maybe your husband is just too famished to know mercy. 

Back raising off the bed, no matter how hard your fingers cling onto his hair and the messy sheets you couldn’t stop the fall off the edge as your eyes saw the back of your head. A broken moan resounded through the room. Hopefully, it’s too late for anyone on a late-night stroll past the open window. Every fiber of your being shivering and nerve overwhelmed with hot flashes of pleasure. All the while Alhaitham’s tongue never stopped its torture. 

Laying bonelessly upon the ruined sheets, hands limp by your side. Your chest heaves trying to remember how to breathe as a large figure looms over you. Your quivering pussy reluctantly released his fingers as a string of slick connected them.

Unfocused eyes watch as your husband’s tongue cleans the essences off, making sure to clean every inch. 

You felt so empty inside, the heat between your legs only escalating as your walls clenched around nothing. Was it the heat or pleasure that’s melting your mind? You don’t know and were too desperate to care. You wanted relief from the heat and judging by the hard shape pressed into your thigh, he needed relief too. 

Wordless your nimble fingers reached down, curling over the waistbands of his pants and boxers you pulled them down. Finally freeing his cock, it slaps against his naval as the leaking precum spears across his exposed skin. Playfully, your finger toys with his swollen tip, gathering up the precum as a hiss leaves his clenched teeth.

Making sure to look directly into his piercing eyes, you brought the finger into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the digit and then pulling it out from your lips with an audible pop. 

Your shameless behavior earned you a guttural growl from Alhaitham, soon your hand was pinned above your head. His face was just inches away, the brilliant teal of eyes now wholly glazed over with crimson. Everyone is warned to never play with fire, but it’s just too addicting to resist. 

“Brazen girl,” he snarls. 

You countered with a grin, cheeks a deep red, but what’s there to hide from someone who’s laid you bare numerous times before? 

Sucking in a gasp as his thick tip rubbed against your negligent folds, your leaking walls trembling with anticipation. Longing for the stretch only he could offer you.

“Beg.”

Of course, nothing ever comes easily when it comes to him. Self-control honed by years of experience, all held by the iron grip of his analytical mind. A battle you’ll never win, so it’s best to sacrifice your self-respect in favor of your aching pussy. A fool for pleasure, gone far beyond the point of saving. 

“Please… I want you to ruin me… please ruin me.” Sinful words rolling off your tongue. 

Words that finally snapped the last thread of self-restraint Alhaitham had, instantaneously his hips met yours. Your gummy walls, long ingrained in his shape, welcomed the familiar stretch, clamping down as a wet slap resounded through the room. Alhaitham pushed his cock in further, pinning your body deeper into the mattress, hissing at the heat that engulfed his length. 

Your mouth falls open, pleasure shooting through overstimulated nerves, the bed creaking underneath you as his hips pulled away just to snap back. Setting a more punishing pace than usual, the bed shook in protest as your pussy welcomed each thrust, slick walls wrapping around his girth.

Moans flowed out of your mouth like how water flows through rivers, any semblance of embarrassment drowned out by molten pleasure. Two bodies connecting and mingling together to create a private heaven. 

Alhaitham’s hand abandons its grip on your wrist in favor of getting more leverage on your hips, purple marks promising to appear in the morning.

Before your muddled mind could process it, icy lips crashed into your plush ones, a tongue crossed the line. Sloppy and hungry was how his mouth devoured yours. Tongues clashing and dancing as he shallows each moan of yours. 

He pulls away momentarily as you took the opportunity to steal a few breaths. Scarlet-hazed eyes observe the transgression just committed before his lips moved back to reconnect with yours.

It’s clear he doesn’t give a damn about that arbitrary rule anymore. Why must forbidden acts always feel so good? 

Free hands now found purchase on his broad back, nails digging into the smooth skin trying to balance out the onslaught of pleasure invading every fiber of your being. Legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into the sheets with you never once interrupting his savage pace.

Your attempts at staving off your independent orgasm were futile, teary eyes rolling back as your walls clenched and your body shook. 

Alhaitham released your lips in time to savor the broken symphony of a moan leaving your throat, the sheets underneath you a soaking mess, proof of your fall from cloud nine.

Despite this, your husband doesn’t slow down in the slightest. The sight in front of him only heightened the hunger in his eyes. 

The solid oak bed frame swayed in time with the pistoning of his thrust, tight walls clamping down yet giving no resistance as his thick tip continued to bully that sweet spot. His chilly breath against your nape, tongue running a wet trail to prepare the area. Sensations your melted mind could barely register.

His fingers dig deeper into your hips as he pulls them flushed against his, thick cock pressing further into your wanton core. 

A sharp prick shoots up your nape before the sensation of your walls being filled beyond capacity distracts from it. Your pussy pitifully attempts to suck in every last drop before succumbing, letting his essence join yours in making a mess of the sheets. Trembling hands run along his muscular back, pulling him closer to your heaving chest. 

Your pants counted in time with the hands of a clock, shards of your sanity slowly returning to you as gulps moved down Alhaitham’s throat. With a satisfied sigh, his incisors released your neck, tongue lapping over the escaped drops of scarlet.

Slowly pulling away from your embrace, his untainted teal eyes scan over you. Hair fanned out behind you, chest still heaving, and cheeks still violently flushed. You must look absolutely ruined, just as you asked of him. 

Carefully, he pulls out from your gummy walls, trembling walls allowed to gather their senses again. Detangling your legs from him with tender hands he repositions your droopy body comfortably along plush pillows. 

Humming in gratitude as you rolled onto your stomach, face buried into the luxurious pillows which held his opulent scent. The aftermath of passion gradually faded away from recovering nerves. The space next to you dips down as his frame joins you, a cool hand resting along the curve of your back. 

The soft sways of leaves in the night breeze, slowing pants, and the sweet lull of nothingness filled the air of this private haven. Two hearts, one mortal and one immortal, beating together.

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence.

A hushed invitation slipped to you behind the watchful eyes of the divine. A lure towards deep waters by his beckoning voice. 

Perhaps your curiosity has influenced him as well. All your innocent inquiries must’ve muddled the line, question after question brushing away at the definition until misunderstanding took its place.

This won’t do. Your time is too short and his time too precious to be wasted on miscommunication.

Since it was you who muddled the line, it shall be you who reestablishes it. 

“I was born a human,” you began.

Pausing to enjoy the feeling of his cool fingers drawing unknown shapes into your back and the gentle vibrations of his hum. 

“I will die as one.”

With those simple words, the line was once again clearly drawn in the sand.

Separating you from him, and him from you. Just as the laws of morals, nature, and this world dictated. 

After all, it was you who said: “For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine”. Not the other way around. The price he’d have to pay is far greater than anything you’re willing to sacrifice.

No, you’re too selfish for that.

Under a waning moon, the market was lively tonight. Bright lanterns and stringed lights challenged the radiance of the sky’s stars. The twinkling momentarily distracts your mind from the cries of your muscles and the aches of your bones. 

What a simple thing you are, or perhaps you’re just a human in the purest sense. So entranced by the beauty of a rose, it distracts from the sting of thorns.

Such drab comparisons have no place in your thoughts tonight. 

As if to run away from them, your legs moved with volition, weaving in and out of the surges of crowds with clumsy grace, some haggling, some laughing, some yelling. 

Glazing up at the moon above, it was as if she was following your every step, watching, judging the performance of this daydream.

It wasn’t long before the volition faded away as you slowed to a halt, lung greedily trying to hog all the air they could. A herbal scent found its way to your senses, a quick glance to your left confirms your suspicions. 

It looks like your legs couldn’t carry you far enough in the end. Stopping right in front of a display of dried Kalpalata Lotuses, the moon must be laughing right now. 

You weren’t sure which one tasted more bitter, the herb or the irony.

Straightening your posture back up, ready to push through the burn of your muscles once more before a cold grasp grounded you back into reality. 

Whipping your head around, bewildered eyes connected with placid teal. There was a furrow in the brows that framed the hypnotic azure.

“Don’t go where my hand can’t reach.” Alhaitham’s atonal voice carried over the chatter of the streets. 

Bringing your husband out of the house, only to then leave him alone in a sea of people. What a capricious wife you are.

Perhaps Alhaitham foresaw this exact situation, that’d explain the recent spike in his reclusiveness. Seeing this, a giggle bubbled up in your throat. 

“Oh?~ Someone’s been watching my dramas. Where’d you learn that line from?” 

As he sighs your giggles only increased, cold fingers loosening around your wrist. 

“It’s exceptionally crowded tonight, be mindful of your surroundings.” 

You simply nodded along, a sign to him that you’re only absorbing half of his words, another sigh from him and another giggle from you. 

“A bag of Kalpalata Lotuses for the two of you tonight as well?” The vendor, ready with a fresh paper bag, intrudes on this raillery. 

Your lips pressed into a thin line, silencing your giggles as your eyes trailed over the dulled hues of the dried herb. 

Four hours went to three went to two and now down to one. Each cup becoming more and more unpalatable. There comes a point when a bucket can longer keep a sinking ship afloat, perhaps it’s better to gaze upon the starry night as one disappears under the waves.

“Actually… Padisarah tea tastes better, I want a bag of that instead.” A honeyed smile dawned upon your lips as you glazed back up at him. 

Alhaitham parts his lips, a response ready to fall off his tongue, but he closes them just as swiftly. Returning a hum of acknowledgment at your request, handing over the mora in exchange for the bag of dried Padisarah. 

Your attention has already shifted away from this scene, eyes avoiding the dull hues, finally landing upon wood carved with much creative liberty. There’s enough space for another sculpture no? It’d be nice to add more company to the home. 

Before the muscles in your legs could budge, a hand twitched, reminding you of the loose hold still around your wrist. 

A good partner should respect the wishes of their spouse. Warm fingers slide into the space between cold ones, intertwining like the lights above with the sky.

All it took was a soft tug for a human to move a vampire through the bustling crowd. 

A common phrase uttered to unwell patients is ‘mind over body’.

However, there’s only so much the body can take before it rebels against the mastermind.

Even your own body had enough of your selfishness. 

Protest taking the form of wheezes, lethargy, and that piercing ache forever present deep within. You were always the one to toe the line, pushing your luck to the limits and beyond, only stopped by a towering wall. 

It’s time to lay rest under silken sheets and plush pillows. Something you’ve been doing very often these days. Perhaps your body is just practicing for the ending.  

The cumbersome duvet fails to capture the wisps of warmth only a Sumerian Summer can offer, it fails to prevent the chill from penetrating deep into your every bone.

Dull senses alert you to a shift in weight on the mattress. Fighting against the leaden weight of your lids, you opened your eyes to the sight of your husband.

Ashen hair slightly trussed and button down wrinkled as his frame lays next to yours. He must have come here straight from the door, a once-practiced tradition slowly faded away much like strength from your limbs. 

The muscles on his face relaxed, neutral by default, yet his eyes were downturned much like the corners of his lips.

Your husband must be deep in thought. His thumb is digging into his palm again, it seems that Alhaitham has developed a new habit. Hazy eyes carefully focused on how the nail threatened to break the surface of his palm.

That’s no good. 

Ignoring the exhaustion, you slipped your fingers in between his, shielding his palm from the assaults of his thumb, settling into a gentle embrace as two rings clinked together.

The weight of a teal gaze centers on you.

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice barely a whisper. 

Chest protesting against your action with wheezes, but you needed to finish this script, it's what a co-star should do.

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” Exposing your neck to him as your lashes fluttered shut, it was time to pay your dues. 

Much like the clauses written on parchment signed by two names, the ending of this script must be followed, your body already taking its cue.

At least the doctors were accurate this time, how punctual your body is. 

A brisk breath brushed against your nape, skin reacting with a trail of goosebumps as you feel the presence of sharp incisors draws near before grazing against your delicate neck. Your mind counts back, ready for the final pierce of pain to come. 

Three… Two… The pressure of his fangs disappears from your skin. Replaced by the touch of gentle lips.

Opening your eyes with confusion and lost anticipation, you were met with stoic eyes.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.”

“I’m not holding myself back,” Alhaitham answers without the slightest pause.

Your chest wheezes once more at your lung’s clumsy attempt at gathering a breath.

“What a silly vampire,” you giggled, the crimson hues were obvious even to your dimming vision. 

After the numerous questions you asked and the innumerable answers he gave these past seven years, you still couldn’t fully comprehend him. Neither of you were the masterminds you thought you were, huh? 

In the end, both of you were fools trying to perform a stage play.

Your mind ponders this revelation as Alhaitham tugs the covers up your body, gentle hand running along your body through the thick fabric barrier. 

The faint ticks of a clock pull a buried secret from the guard sanctuary of your thoughts, dusting off the obscurity to reexamine the details in full clarity.

What was the end of the path like? Well, just like the scene blocked off by a garden wall under that moonless night, it’s all the same.

Maybe tonight you’ll tell him the truth.

What was over that wall? With its stones piled high and with moss creeping through its crevices, a wall that only creatures born within the grace of an undecided god could peer past. What did it conceal?

Nothing.

A nothingness so empty, ultimate peace could reside. 

Seems like you’ve discovered something new in the end, you shameless fool. Death is nothingness in the end, a nothingness that fingers pass right through. 

So instead of holding on to nothing, you’d rather grasp a cold hand as nothingness envelopes you. He didn’t seem to mind. 

You wanted to tell this to the creature who humored your daydream for all these years. If he doesn’t want your blood then you could at least impart this priceless insight to him. 

Oh, it’s such a shame that your tongue just won’t move anymore. Instead, you’ll offer him a smile. In hopes that Alhaitham could decrypt the curvature of your lips with his seven years of experience. To translate your silent message into a language known to man with his lifetimes of wisdom. 

It’s all you could do to thank him for holding your hand as the dirge of Summer crickets fade out and the last first rays of a grieving sun kiss the horizon. The final wisp of warmth escaping down your cheek. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[steveyockey]

As I watched people online debate the models of anti-colonial struggle, raising comparisons to Algeria and North America and South Africa, I found myself returning to the foundational Jewish liberation myth: the Exodus. It was hard not to think about the moment in the Passover seder when we lessen the wine in our full cups with our pinkies as we recite the plagues. This ritual has materialized as an indispensable touchstone, insisting that to hold onto our humanity we must grieve all violence, even against the oppressor.

But I also thought of the plagues themselves, particularly the final one, the slaying of the first born—children, adults, the elderly. It seems that hiding in our liberation myth is a recognition that violence will visit the oppressor society indiscriminately. I know that I have many friends, and that Currents has many readers, who are asking themselves how they can be part of a left that seems to treat Israeli deaths as a necessary, if not desirable, part of Palestinian liberation. But what Exodus reminds us is that the dehumanization that is required to oppress and occupy another people always dehumanizes the oppressor in turn. For people who feel like their pain is being devalued, it’s because it is; and that devaluation is itself a hallmark of the cycle of the diminishing value of human life. As the abolitionist geographer Ruth Wilson Gilmore has said, “Where life is precious, life is precious.” We are seeing the ways that Jews as the agents of apartheid will not be spared—even those of us who have devoted our lives to the work of ending it. (I am thinking of Hayim Katsman, zichrono l’vracha, killed by Hamas, an activist against the expulsion of the West Bank community of Masafer Yatta, and Vivian Silver, a hostage in Gaza, who is known to many of its residents as the person they meet at the Erez Crossing who advocates for and facilitates their transfers to Israeli hospitals for treatment.)

That question of how we recuperate this humanity is ultimately an organizing question. People have repeated over and over again over the last few days that you “cannot tell Palestinians how to resist.” To me, it seems there is a very literal dimension to this axiom: They are not asking. Part of what has made the experience of this event feel so different from the status quo—and so different to Palestinians and Jews—comes from the fact that Palestinians were undeniably the actors, for once, not the acted upon. The protagonists of the story. I consider it an enormous failure of our movements that we have not been able to build a vehicle for that kind of reversal in any other way thus far. Our Jewish movements for Palestine were not powerful enough to stop other Jews from gunning down Palestinians in peaceful marches at the Gazan border fence, or to keep Palestinians from being fired, harassed, and sued for speaking the truth about their experience or—God forbid—advocating the nonviolent tactic of boycott. And now, we do not have a shared struggle able to credibly respond to these massacres of Israelis and Palestinians. With all of the work that many Jews and Palestinians have done to reach toward each other over the years, I believe at heart it is this failure that is now driving us apart. There is no formidable political formation that I know of that can hold the political subjectivity of both Jews and Palestinians in this moment without simply attempting to assimilate one into the other. No place where Jews and Palestinians who agree on the basics of Palestinian liberation—right of return, equality, and reparations—are poised to turn the synthesis of these two subjectivities into a coherent strategy.

One of the most terrible things about this event is the sense of its inevitability. The violence of apartheid and colonialism begets more violence. Many people have struggled with the straightjacket of this inevitability, straining to articulate that its recognition does not mean its embrace. I am reminding myself that it was from Palestinians, many of them writing and speaking in these pages, that I learned to think of Palestine as a site of possibility—a place where the very idea of the nation-state, which has so harmed both peoples, could be remade or destroyed entirely. And it was Palestinians who opened my thinking to multiple visions of sharing the land. On the left, I hope we do not mistake the inevitability of the violence for an inescapable limit on our work or the quality of our thought. Even if our dreams for better have failed, they must accompany us through this moment to the other side. We need to imagine a movement for liberation better even than the Exodus—an exodus where neither people has to leave. Where people stay to pick up the pieces, rearranging themselves not just as Jews or Palestinians but as antifascists and workers and artists. I want what Puerto Rican Jewish poet and activist Aurora Levins Morales describes in her poem “Red Sea”:

We cannot cross until we carry each other,

all of us refugees, all of us prophets.

No more taking turns on history’s wheel,

trying to collect old debts no-one can pay.

The sea will not open that way.

This time that country

is what we promise each other,

our rage pressed cheek to cheek

until tears flood the space between,

until there are no enemies left,

because this time no one will be left to drown

and all of us must be chosen.

This time it’s all of us or none.

Arielle Angel, “‘We Cannot Cross Until We Carry Each Other’,” Jewish Currents, October 12, 2023.

[the-heartlines]

“Then you shouldn’t have flown here on dragonback, offering yourself up to my husband and I, like some little whore.”

anonymous requested: rhaenys x corlys x aegon's twin!reader with jealous/possessive sex ~ fem!reader [explicit / 1K] ~

warnings: slight dubcon, size difference, belly bulge, overstimulation, female ejaculation.

“My Lord Corlys–ah!” You wailed as the thick flesh of his cock stretched you out. Your cunt has never been this full before. The only one you have ever had this deep inside you, had been your twin’s. Which was a mere worm in comparison to the great Sea Snake’s. “Shh…shh…my dear.” A soft hand with long nails raked through your silver hair, trying to soothe you as a mother would a babe.

“I cannot, my lady. I feel as if I’m being torn in two.” Tears pricked your eyes as she scraped the back of your scalp in a surprising manner, then gripped your hair back harshly, her lips inches from your ear.

“Then you shouldn’t have flown here on dragonback, offering yourself up to my husband and I, like some little whore.”

She bit the shell of your ear, making you moan as her lord husband withdrew his cock from your cunt and sheathed himself furiously back inside. You clamped around him immediately, feeling a fresh wave of wetness seep from your folds, accommodating the rough strokes of his thrusts into you.

“I believe our little whore likes your torturous treatment of her, my wife.” Lord Corlys rasped above you, catching your gaze which was full of fire. “Fuck, she’s as tight as you were on our first night together. I do believe we’ll keep her here in our bedchamber under lock and key—away from that drunken rapist husband of hers.” He smirked and winked wickedly at you. You heard his lady wife laugh sinfully, sending shivers down your spine that made your clit ache with desperation.

“Would you like that, little whore? Keep you locked away from everyone, but us? No one, not even your pious mother would guess where you are. That you're nothing, but our cock whore to do with as we please?” She licked over your ear and trailed her experienced tongue down towards your nipples, wrapping her lips around the hardened tips, sucking and sending more waves of pleasure that made you whimper like a whore. “Answer my lady wife, little whore,” Lord Corlys shoved his cock to the hilt inside you and gripped your chin possessively as his wife bit your breasts lightly. The pleasure and pain was unlike anything you had ever felt, as you moaned gutturally.

A dragon awakening truly for the first time.

And you knew your answer right away—desiring—no needing this more than anything. Even more than the possibility, the promise, of becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day. What was the cold sharp steel of the Iron Throne compared to the feel of the warmth of your lord's cock deep inside, kissing your womb? Or the hot wet cavern of the Queen-Who-Never-Was’ mouth sucking your teats, trying to milk you for all that you're worth?

“Yes! Yes! Please my Lord and Lady Velaryon! I will be your whore and only your whore!” You cried out, desperation laced in your voice, begging to peak on your lord’s length. One of your lady’s fingers snaked down towards your mound and found the center of your world.

"The little whore has behaved so dutifully." The finger stilled, ghosting above your aching clit. A shameless whine escaped the back of your throat.

“I do believe our little prize deserves to have her little pearl rubbed to completion. Don’t you think so, my dear husband?” Her voice was husky, eyes full of pride as she peered down at you.

“Yesssss, my wife, I would have our little princess choke me until my seed is bursting from her womb.” He hissed, stroking into your swollen cunt roughly, once more. His lady wife answered him by starting to rub your delicate pearl harshly, back and forth hurriedly. A fresh gush of nectar dripped from your cunt, allowing him to fuck faster into you.

“Oh, fuck, Rhaenys! She's the tightest and wettest we’ve ever had,” he cursed hoarsely his words making your hips wound around him. “Good. That’s so good, my husband…and look, my lord.” She said, stunned and pointed to the center of your belly, where your lord’s cock head was very prominent against the skin. “You can see your cock deep inside her womb.” Lady Velaryon applied pressure to the bulge distended into your flesh, pressing a sharpened nail into the sensitive hood of your clit, at the same time.

You shriek animalistically, as your pleasure overcomes you, making your cunt choke and come around your lord’s cock.

“I think our little whore can come even harder, don’t you Corlys?” She continued to rub your clit, pinching it between her fingers.

“My lady, please! It’s too much! I cannot bear it! Please!” Your throat was raw from screaming so loudly, as you pleaded for her fingers to stop their onslaught of your sore clit.

“It’s okay, sweetling, you can come again, just once more.” And your lady kissed you softly, drowning out your sobs, as her tongue intertwined with yours.

“Gods, fuck, yes, good little fucking whore!” Lord Velaryon groaned, continuing to thrust into you, hitting another spot inside you; as your cunt gushed hot liquid all over him, coating him in your fluids. He grit his teeth and groaned hoarsely, mouth going slack, as he released rope after rope of Valyrian seed into your womb. “Such a good little whore.” Your lady breathed into your lips, her fingers slowed on your clit as you shakily descended down from the most powerful orgasm of your life.

The last thing you felt was your lord’s cock slip from your used and drenched cunt, as your eyes closed in exhaustion.

“My dear wife, I believe we shall have another child in nine moons. A beautiful child to replace the ones we’ve lost.”

You felt your lady stroke your hair back, a sweet hum fell from her lips, reminding you of when your mother had done the same. “I do believe, my dear husband, that our little dragon’s womb will bless us with twins if the gods will grants it.” A light kiss was placed upon your sweaty brow, “our little whore must be fucked thoroughly morning, noon, and night, if we’re to be certain.”

“That should be no issue, my lady, she is after all, very accommodating and eager…just like you were at her age.”

“I believe she’s even more of a whore than I ever was.” She laughed breathlessly, a hint of envy behind her words.

You felt her fingers pushing your lord’s spend back inside your cunt, selfishly, as you slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep; satiated and sore, but prepared for whatever your new lord and lady decided to put your body through, for the foreseeable future.

[its-avalon-08]

hi okay so since we have very little mark webber content im doing everyone a favour so like similar to the fernando one but this time y/n watched mark's flying 2010 crash and even though he's completely fine y/n is MAD (like it happened for the second time). Mark tries joking it off after they get home but she gives him the silent treatment+ doesnt let him kiss/touch her. then when she finally gives in she's angry and cries while mark consoles her?

please don't leave (mw6)

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i had so much fun writing this one thank you so much for this request ! i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

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y/n practically clawed at the armrest as the grainy helicopter footage on the tv flickered. it couldn't be. not again. the unmistakable red of mark's car was wedged against a barrier, smoke billowing skyward. her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "mark..." the word escaped her lips in a strangled whisper.

the newscaster droned on, thankfully confirming mark was unharmed. relief flooded y/n, momentarily pushing the anger aside. but as the adrenaline subsided, the fury simmered back. this was the second time she'd endured this terror in the three years they'd been together.

the apartment door creaked open, and mark limped in, a grimace on his face. even with the obvious pain, his smile was sheepish. "hey there, drama queen. looks like i caused a bit of a stir, eh?"

y/n remained glued to the couch, arms crossed. the silence in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. mark's smile faltered, replaced by a worried frown. he shuffled closer, a hand reaching out tentatively.

"y/n, come on," he coaxed, "it's alright. just a bit shaken, that's all."

his hand hovered in the air, inches from her shoulder. y/n flinched away, the movement sharp and cold. the hurt flickered in mark's eyes, but he persisted.

the air in the apartment hung heavy with unspoken emotions. mark hovered near y/n, his own leg throbbing from the crash, but the physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional turmoil brewing across the room. he yearned to hold her, to feel her warmth and offer some form of comfort.

"so," mark started, his voice breaking the suffocating silence, "at least this time i didn't manage to take out any cameramen. silver linings, right?"

he forced a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. but as he reached out, y/n visibly stiffened. her back straightened, and her arms, which had been limp at her side, clenched into fists.

mark's smile faltered, replaced by a dawning realization. this wasn't the time for jokes. he saw it in the way her shoulders started to tremble, a silent tremor that spoke volumes.

"y/n," he began, concern lacing his voice.

but before he could continue, a dam broke within her. tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she whirled around to face him.

"silver linings?" she choked out, her voice thick with anger and barely contained fear. "mark, how can you even say that? don't you get it? every time you get behind the wheel of that car, my heart stops! i watch those races, glued to the screen, praying that the red and white doesn't end up tangled in a mess of metal, praying that i don't hear your name followed by the words 'critical condition.' this isn't some game, mark! these aren't just crashes, these are near-death experiences!"

her voice hitched, raw emotion pouring out. "and you have the audacity to joke about it? to try and find some humor in the fact that you almost died again? do you even consider what it does to me? the sleepless nights, the constant worry gnawing at my insides? i can't take it anymore, mark! i can't live like this, constantly on the edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop!"

y/n's rant hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. mark stood speechless, his heart sinking with every word. all the flippant remarks he'd planned evaporated. here, laid bare, was the true cost of his passion, the unseen burden he placed on the woman he loved.

shame washed over him. he hadn't truly understood her fear, the depth of her worry. now, seeing it raw and unfiltered, he felt like a monster.

"y/n," he finally managed, his voice hoarse with regret, "i... i'm so sorry. i had no idea. i was trying to be lighthearted, but you're right. it's not a joke. i was a fool. please, forgive me. i promise it won't happen next time."

"it's not enough, mark!" she shot back, tears welling up in her eyes. "what if next time... what if there isn't a next time?"

the room went silent again, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. after a long moment, mark sat on the coffee table beside her, a dejected sigh escaping his lips. he didn't try to touch her again, respecting the space she needed.

minutes bled into hours. finally, y/n's tense shoulders slumped slightly. with a shaky breath, she turned towards mark. he met her gaze, his eyes filled with concern.

"i just..." she began, her voice thick with emotion, "i can't lose you, mark. not like this."

large tears streamed down her face as she spoke, her voice cracking. mark was by her side in an instant, pulling her into a tight embrace. he held her as she sobbed, whispering comforting words into her hair.

the fear, the anger, all of it spilled out in that moment. when her cries subsided into hiccups, mark gently wiped away her tears.

y/n's words hung heavy in the air, each one a hammer blow to mark's heart. shame burned in his gut, hotter than any engine fire he'd ever faced. he hadn't just been selfish, he'd been blind. blinded by the adrenaline rush, the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the race. he hadn't seen the terror in her eyes, the worry etched into her every expression.

"y/n," he started, his voice thick with remorse, "i... i don't even know where to begin. you're right. it's not a joke. it's never a joke. every time i climb into that car, a part of me knows the risk. but the truth is, i never stopped to think about what it did to you. i was so focused on myself, on the competition, on the win, that i completely ignored the cost it had on you."

he took a shaky breath, pulling her closer, "those sleepless nights, that constant worry… you shouldn't have to carry that burden alone. you shouldn't have to live in fear because of my passion. it's not fair. it's not fair to you, and frankly, it makes me question my own damn priorities."

mark ran a hand through his hair, frustration lacing his voice. "this racing… it's been my life for so long. it's given me purpose, pushed me to my limits, made me feel alive. but if it comes at the cost of losing you, then what's the point? what good is a trophy if the person i love the most is shattered every time i race?"

he looked at her, his eyes pleading for understanding. "i can't promise you i'll quit. it's in my blood, this need for speed. but i can promise you this: i'll never take it for granted again. i'll never forget the fear in your eyes. every race, every decision, every corner i take, you'll be there, a constant reminder of what truly matters. and if, at any point, you can't handle it anymore, if the fear becomes too much… i'll walk away. no questions asked. because you, y/n, you're my everything."

silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of his words. but this time, it wasn't a suffocating quiet. it was a space filled with the dawning of a new understanding, a fragile hope for a future where his passion wouldn't overshadow the love of his life.

the silence stretched on, a hesitant dance between hope and uncertainty. then, slowly, tentatively, y/n reached out. her hand brushed against mark's, sending a jolt of electricity through him. he laced his fingers with hers, the warmth a stark contrast to the storm that had just passed.

"i..." she began, her voice barely a whisper. "i don't want you to quit." her eyes, though still glistening with unshed tears, held a new resolve. "but i need you to be safe. to understand how much you mean to me."

mark's heart swelled in his chest. "i do, y/n. more than you know." he pulled her gently towards him, offering a quiet, "can i kiss you now?"

y/n melted into his embrace, lips meeting. he held her tightly, the unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air. they would face this together, fear and passion intertwined. but for now, all that mattered was the quiet comfort of each other's arms.

after a long while, y/n pulled back slightly, a small smile gracing her lips. "just promise me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"anything," he whispered back, nuzzling his nose against hers.

"no more 'silver linings' jokes after a crash," she declared, a playful glint in her eyes.

mark chuckled, a genuine laugh that warmed the room. "deal. but maybe a celebratory ice cream after a win?"

y/n snorted. "we can negotiate."

and with that, they settled back into their embrace, a newfound understanding blossoming between them. the future was uncertain, the track still held dangers, but as long as they had each other, they could face anything. as mark drifted off to sleep, y/n snuggled closer, her soft breaths a lullaby against his ear.