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youremyheaven · 1 month

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Shatabhisha & The Rahuvian Urge to Lie

In the light of several of you guys telling me about your experiences with Shatabhisha nakshatra natives who were pathological liars and overall terrible people. I thought I'll do my research 🤪😌and what I found astounded me.

Shatabhisha is ruled by the planet Rahu, which is known for its mysterious and unconventional nature. Rahu is associated with the shadow, the unknown, and the supernatural. In Vedic astrology, Rahu represents desires, ambitions, and illusions. It can bring both good and bad results, depending on its placement and the overall horoscope. Therefore, the lord of Shatabhisha can bring a mix of energies and influences, such as intuition, creativity, eccentricity, and spiritual growth, but also confusion, deception, and hidden enemies.

Shatabhisha is the final concluding Rahuvian nakshatra and I feel like the concluding nak of each planet is the most extreme manifestation of its energies but also the point where it transcends beyond itself.

Shatabhisha is associated with the deity Varuna, the god of cosmic and moral order. Varuna is also linked to water, emphasizing the purification aspect of this nakshatra. The connection with a thousand flowers signifies the blossoming of spiritual potential. Varuna (god of the rains/ cosmic & terrestrial waters, sky and earth). also, the mystical healer and the lord of “maya” or illusions. varuna is also sometimes referred as the “dark sun”, he influences the west direction and is active after sunset.

Given that the deity of Shatabhisha is the Lord of Illusions/Maya and Rahu is itself a shadow planet associated with deception, lies and illusions, its no wonder that these natives are often prone to lying.

Pathological lying is defined as "the compulsive urge to lie about matters big and small, regardless of the situation."

SZA, Shatabhisha Moon, Vishaka Sun is known for being a pathological liar

Here is a video exposing her lies. Tbh SZA lies about things that are so unnecessary and obvious??? she once said that BTS ignored her at an event when there's video proof of them interacting and hugging each other 😭😭She has lied about her real hair, fake freckles, her age, used to say she was a marine biologist, being allergic to fruit & more. It’s mostly little lies that literally don’t even make sense why she is even lying about it.

I feel like being dishonest is a broadly Nodal trait (no offence u guys lmao) and SZA's chart is dominated by Nodal naks. She has Venus in Mula, Mars in Swati, Jupiter in Ardra to make matters worse she has Ketu in Ashlesha (Ashleshas can be hella manipulative) and Vishaka Sun & Mercury (Vishaka is a rakshasa gana nak which means these natives are veryy self serving)

Jameela Jamil, Shatabhisha Sun, Ketu in Swati

Tbh I can't keep track of everything Jameela has lied about because she lies a lot. Here's an article that goes into it. She has a thing for claiming she has suffered from or is currently suffering from a ton of different illnesses (mercury poisoning, celiac disease, a rare tissue disorder, a breast cancer scare, she's deaf in one ear, severe peanut allergy etc) and just a ton of other sketchy stuff in general lol

Halsey, Swati Rising & Mercury (She also has Hasta Sun)

Halsey has always claimed to be half black when in reality she is 1/4th black (her dad is half black), she allegedly suffers from Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Sjogren's syndrome, Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, POTS etc i don't want to speculate about someone's health but whenever someone talks about having more than 2 serious chronic conditions, it just feels hella sus??? She said she was kicked out of her house as a teenager by her parents but someone who went to highschool with her apparently exposed her saying that wasn't true and that she left on her own to pursue music. Halsey also claimed to have been some sort of edgy misfit outcast in highschool and the same person said she was actually pretty popular and was very good at Art

Victoria Beckham, Venus conjunct Jupiter in Shatabhisha and Ardra Rising

She is certainly not the only one who has tried to convince us that her chest looks the way it does because of a push-up bra. But Victoria Beckham overdid it with her lies. She had been denying for years that she had undergone surgery for a breast augmentation. But then, one sunny day in July 2009, she slipped up. It happened before an L.A. Dodgers baseball game, where Victoria was given the honor of throwing the first pitch. She walks off the field, and says loudly in her mic that she is a bit worried her pitch would displace her implants. Boom! The truth was out! Her D-cups remained intact, but the damage to her reputation was done. Some years later, the former Spice Girls member had a reduction, and she now claims she regrets of having had the surgery in the first place. She also very recently claimed she grew up super working class when its pretty much public knowledge that she's from a vvv wealthy background (her nickname is literally Posh Spice?? like girl???)

Taylor Swift, Ardra Moon, Ketu in Ashlesha

This has turned into one of the biggest social media scandals in Hollywood in the past decade. It all started with the notorious line in Kanye West’s song Famous: ‘I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/Why? I made that b**ch famous”. Swift’s reaction to these derogatory lyrics was …well… swift and brutal. She complained about being victimized by West and him taking the credit for her success. But then the Invincible Kim took matters into her hands. She broke the internet by posting a Snapchat video of a conversation between Swift and West, in which Swift was saying she had no problem with the lyrics. That was a huge blow as Swift had been whining for weeks about how she had insisted on being “excluded from the narrative.” Sister, if you really wanted to be excluded from the narrative, you should have said that first thing when the rapper called you to ask for your consent!

She also acts like some country gal when her dad is a stockbroker and she grew up on like a 200 acre farm and had her career handed to her lol

I feel like Nodal girlies love to play victim, along with Moon dominants & Ashleshas

Tyga- Ashlesha Moon conjunct Ketu

He grew up in a rich family in LA but claimed to be from the 'hood lol

Robert Pattinson- Ardra Moon

He has admitted that he lies all the time in interviews lol tbh its kinda funny

Here's an article about it. my fav bit is the one time he lied about hating the circus because he saw a clown die as a kid lmfao

Grimes, Shatabhisha Mercury

Grimes lied about throwing a snowball at Queen Elizabeth II's motorcade when she was visiting Vancouver. Somebody pointed out that on that day there was no snow in the city, so it was impossible for her to make a snowball, let alone throw one.

She lies about bizarre things that she doesn't even need to bring up. Like, telling Rolling Stone magazine she had to get over her fears and conceive X by having unprotected sex and letting Elon cum inside her. Later, the Isaacson book proved it was IVF 🤡🤡

She has also been accused of having lied about being homeless in the past

Lana Del Rey- Ardra Sun

There is an old interview with some guy who studied with her and he said she used to lie all the time lol It was really interesting to see someone in her inner circle kinda reflect on that. His name is Ron Pope. He said

“Actually, I knew her in New York many, many years ago, when she was still going by her real name, Lizzy Grant. And I thought that she was endlessly fascinating, because she was always kind of expressing herself by being a character. She would tell you a story and you're like, "I don't think that's true, but I don't care."

Well, after we were introduced, she told me that she grew up in Arkansas in a trailer park, and was raised by her grandmother. But I'd already known that she was from a family of means in New York. So I was just like, "Huh, you don't say, Arkansas, trailer park." But it was like being around a performance artist. It's not like they're a pathological liar or something, they're just a person creating a character.”

Lana lied about her age at the beginning of her career and to this day she says she grew up poor and is "white trash" when she went to a private boarding school as a teenager ???

Lady Gaga, Swati Moon conjunct Ketu

Gaga once told that she was bullied in school to the point of being thrown into a trash can because she was "eccentric and theatrical", when in fact she went to one of the most expensive schools in New York (which makes unlikely that something like this would go that far).

There was a bit that she claimed her aunt possessed her and wrote a poem, which she showed to her fans on live stream; someone googled that poem and found it online.

When Amy Winehouse died, Lady Gaga told a reporter she couldn't speak a thing for 48 hours.

When recording the scene where Maurizio is killed, the only thing that went through her mind was "What did I do?"; also, she claims that she spoke with Italian accent for 6 months after the footage was finished.

Kylie Jenner, Ashlesha Sun, Swati Moon

she lied about not getting plastic surgery for yearssss, claiming she just gained weight or whatever lol

Sara Ali Khan, Ashlesha Sun, Shatabhisha Moon

She's descended from royalty on her father's side, her mother comes from a very influential family, both her parents are successful actors, she went to fkn Columbia University for her undergrad yet she claims to be a "normal middle class girl" and says that she does not pay for mobile roaming cause its too expensive?? 😩😂and she is known for her PR stunts lmao, just a few days ago she was "spotted" helping underprivileged people when its sooo obvious that she called the paps to film her lmfao

Zayn Malik, Shatabhisha Venus & Rising

When Zayn Malik quit One Direction, he claimed it was so that he could shy away from the spotlight and lead a normal life. I don't know about you, but most 22-year-olds aren't releasing solo albums. Considering Malik debuted his first solo track only a week after leaving the band, it appears as though he lied about the reason for leaving. Especially since he's released a lot of solo music. In an interview with Billboard, he came clean about One Direction not being what he expected. So, I guess he just got fed up with the boy band life, huh? He could've just been honest from the beginning, though.

Steve Rannazzisi, Ardra Sun & Moon, Venus in Ashlesha atmakaraka

The League actor Steve Rannazzisi lied about being in the World Trade Center on 9/11. He originally had an elaborate story about that tragic day prompting him to pick up and move to Los Angeles to pursue his comedy dreams. But in September 2015, Rannazzisi said:

I was not at the Trade Center on that day. I don't know why I said this. This was inexcusable. I am truly, truly sorry.

As he says himself, this is a pretty "inexcusable" lie. I will say, though, at least he came clean about it. When it comes to honesty, better late than never.

Galileo Galilei- Shatabhisha Sun, Ashlesha Rising

Galileo was more convinced that Earth revolves around the sun. This led to his trial in 1616. Galileo obeyed the church order to end all discussion on the matter. But after 16 years, he published a book that the Catholic Church could not accept at the time.

I thought I should include him because this is such a huge example of telling the truth?? even at great personal odds?? imagine being the one to stand up to the goddamn church in an era where everyone was convinced the sun revolved around the earth lol??

it goes to show that not everyone with certain placements will turn out to be liars and deceivers.

Kurt Gerstein- Shatabhisha stellium, Saturn, Ketu and Rising

Kurt Gerstein was a deeply contradictory figure, who's life and work bear examination as an example of how a deeply flawed person can still try to do admirable things.

Born to a virulently authoritarian and later aggressively pro-Nazi father, he grew up in strongly ultranationalist circles. At university, at his father's behest, he joined a far right student association/fraternity.

At the same time, he became involved with the Confessing Church, an organisation dedicated to fighting back against Nazi influence in the Protestant churches, who's membership included a number of prominent German resistance figures. He spent a small amount of time in prisons and in camps for distributing anti-Nazi material, but his father's influence allowed him to escape serious punishment.

In 1941, he joined the SS, in his own words "acting as an agent of the Confessing Church." Shortly beforehand he discovered his sister in law had been murdered as part of what we know as Aktion-T4, the genocide of the mentally ill and physically disabled. His plan was to get inside, find whatever evidence of crimes and atrocities he could, and get them published for all the world to see.

Due to his experience in pest control and water purification, he was made head of the subsection of the SS responsible for supplying Zyklon B, an industrial rat poison, to a variety of sites in Poland. When he asked what the obscene quantities of poison gas could possibly be being used for, he was invited to witness the camps himself.

He attempted to tell the world of what he had seen at Belzec and Treblinka, telling a Swedish diplomat, a Swiss diplomat, A Dutch resistance man, and anyone else he could get his hands on, but nobody really took notice.

He spent years trying to get the story out, until in 1945 he surrendered to a French officer, telling him everything in the hope that his testimony could be used to prosecute senior Nazis and camp officials. He was given a hotel room and a typewriter and told to write his report.

After he was done, he was treated as a war criminal and transferred to a military prison where he was found hanged in his cell, likely driven to suicide by what he viewed as the final failure of his task.

After his death, his report has continued to be used as one of the definitive accounts of the Holocaust, being used in the Nuremberg Trials, the Eichmann trial, and the trial of David Irving.

Once again, it is possible to have these placements and still tell the truth and stand up for the truth. our birth chart reveals our natural tendencies, what we must do is rise above them. and contrary to popular belief, we can rise above our nature.

I hope this was interesting xx

#astrology notes #vedic astro notes #sidereal astrology #astrology observations #nakshatras #astrology #vedic astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #jyotish #rahu #shatabhisha

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desi-lgbt-fest · 11 months

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Hello Gaysis!!!

I see you all waiting with bated breath!! Never fear, the prompts are finally here!!!!

It is our pleasure to bring to you the 30 day prompts for the Desi LGBT Fest 2023!!!

Feel free to draw, write, sing, dance, anything you want, anyhow the inspiration strikes you with the prompts! It can be a simple sketch, elaborate painting, a nonfiction piece, a sweet story, a poem, a cherished memory. Create and share and become a part of this small place online we're carving for ourselves...

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

The over all theme of this year's Fest is:

"Queer As In Defying Conventions: What Does It Mean To Be Convention Defying In South Asian Contexts"

This means describing what queer defiance means to you and how you navigate your world within it. However, the prompt theme is merely a suggestion and not a requirement, so feel free to use the prompts as you wish! And if you do not want to use specific prompts, you can share something based on the overall theme with us.

Throughout the event, we will be signal boosting charaties, organizations, marches, as well as reblogging some of our favorite highlights from last year!

Head over to this post for rules and guidelines for posting the prompts. The image description is under the cut.

Image description: A flyer with a rainbow background. The title states Desi LGBT Fest 2023 Prompt List. The subtitle and theme states "Queer as in defying convention: What does it mean to be 'Queer' in South Asian Contexts of being unconventional?" Below, the 30-day prompts are given as follows:

Prompt List

Theme: "Queer as in defying convention: What does it mean to be 'Queer' in South Asian contexts of being unconventional?"

Dream Gay Aesthetic

Legacy

Fear/Guilt

Ten Steps Forward, Two Steps Back

A Little Freedom is All I Need

5+1 Things

Faith/Rituals of Love

The acceptance you hoped for vs. the acceptance you got

Perseverance

“They bring me flowers”

One Fine Sunday…

The First in Your Family to:

Once upon a time in _____

Public Transport

Top 5 Desi Ways to Come Out

Raat ki Roshni (Nightlife)

Rainbow Sparkles

The Box of Pictures in Ma’s Attic

Sketching Life

A Song That Fits Us

Joy Yet to be Found

Phati (torn) Shirt, Stitch It Up For Me

Disconnect

A Folksong/Folklore

Saptiya? (Did you eat?)

Retro Desi Gays

Kotha (talk, speak)

Walk of Pride

Defiance: of gender, of expectations

“We are who we choose to be”

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sweaterweatherever · 1 year

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Dating Wednesday Addams would include

Pairing: Wednesday Addams × Gender Neutral reader

Warnings: None

Requested: No.

A/N: I wasn 't really in the mood for smut today, guys, so we are going with short and sweet. Yes, as a spanish speaker I know I picked the most boring one, but it's gender neutral guys. We can't exactly go with princesa or muñeca, neither with reina or rey.

▪️She wouldn't initiate anything, that's for sure. She is used to being chased, not the other way around. You would figure the best way to her cold, dark, heart would be through a good mystery, so you would end up acting hot and cold, just enough to unsettle her but not enough to be playing with her feelings. Once you managed to draw her in, you dropped the act.

▪️“You know, I appreciate a good manipulation here and there.” She says, when you take her on your first date, an escape room she would later call “Frustratingly easy” and “Not engaging enough.” with a hint of a smile on her face.

▪️So many unconventional dates. Mostly planned by you, to get her to have fun.

▪️Getting a collection of unconventional trinkets she picks up for you. From red, almost blood like roses ("I understand romantic partners give each other flowers whe attending an event like this, and I do not like flowers.") to interesting books she nicked from the Nightshades's library and pretty jewelry.

▪️Wednesday is not a fan of physical shows of affection, but she “tolerates it” for your sake. While she won't be the one to initiate any kind of cuddling, she would kiss you in public. She won't go over the top, like her parents, but she would kill for you. Besides, she has found she enjoys kissing, just as long as it isn't too passionate. It's an adequate determent to the people who seem to populate around you.

▪️Threatening anyone who upsets you, so many times. Promising to bring you the heads or other assorted body parts of your enemies, all the time.

▪️Pet names in other language. You are particularly fond of “Melilla” and "Amor"

▪️Getting to be the first to hear new cello pieces and once you had been together long enough, to hear her plot ideas for her novel. Eventually, she even lets you read it.

▪️Not a lot of compliments, but you treasure every one she gives (Even if it sounds like a confession extracted under torture)

“You are… Tolerable.” Wednesday scrunches her nose like it pains her very much to be even saying it, much less meaning it. You squeal and hug her. She gingerly pats your arm. "There, there."

▪️Absolutely horrifying visitation day. Pugsley is the first one to notice, and rats you out to their parents. Gomez approves and congratulates you both. Morticia is the one in charge of the shovel talk, but she likes you enough for their little “Storm cloud.”

▪️You always end up involved in whatever mystery she is solving at the time. Makes for an interesting life.

▪️Getting fencing lessons from her, because you are “inadequate” at protecting yourself. It's her way of showing she cares.

#wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #my writing #wednesday headcanons #wednesday addams imagine

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yourneighborhoodporg · 4 months

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The Guardian

Chapter 9: Ancient Implements

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, banter, medical scans/lingo, reference to injuries, exhausted Reader, descriptions of violence, anxious/concerned Obi :(

Summary: Following a rainy conversation, Obi-Wan accompanies you to the Jedi Infirmary in hopes of finding some answers about your condition from Healer Rig Nema. Consequentially, in the face of new discoveries and futile coping mechanisms, the Master Jedi is driven to finally intervene. Through an unconventional strategy, nonetheless.

Song Inspo: Broad-Shouldered Beasts — Mumford & Sons

Words: 9.4k

A/n: Hope everyone celebrating enjoyed New Year’s! Some references to events/thoughts in Star Wars: Wild Space here. No context needed, just some short moments not covered in the Prequels/TCW. So, this chapter very much sets us up for the absolute DOOZY that is the next one, so best to buckle up LOL. My bad about the delay in this one. I had to teach myself brain chemistry 🤪 (sorry to any med students reading in advance). Made up for it in length 💀

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

The earth laughs in flowers — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Obi-Wan reclined, allowing his back to press against the inner glass of one of the Infirmary’s privacy dividers as he folded his arms snugly across his chest.

Internally, the Master Jedi was hoping to disguise the slight unease that crawled up and down his spine for deep concentration, furrowing his brows as if he’d entered a profound state of thought or meditation.

But no matter how carefully he postured impressions of levelheadedness in the face of your paled features, Obi-Wan couldn’t ignore the low thrum of concern that occasionally tugged on his sternum. He couldn’t help but feel the air around him thicken from newly discovering a weeks-long affliction impacting The Guardian.

Impacting you.

A being, that if ever unwell, could place a critical prophecy in jeopardy.

A being, on account of those responsibilities, he promised to protect.

It was to the point where his steadily swelling desire for some answers had languished passing minutes into what seemed like hours. All while he waited across from you for your examination to be completed.

However, once Kenobi glanced at the chronometer’s green glow on the opposite side of the observation room, he soon realized the actuality of how much time had elapsed. Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it’d only been twenty minutes since he escorted you to the Infirmary. Twenty minutes since you were both welcomed with open arms by one of the Temple’s prime physicians, Master Rig Nema, at the facility’s main entrance.

As a Healer known not to waste time, she immediately submitted an inquiry into why you were visiting. But it wasn’t until Master Nema took in your slightly sluggish form, that the doctor was quick to usher you both into a private cubicle, barely enabling the bearded Jedi to finish his symptomologicol report as he was whisked away alongside you.

Clearly, the presence of painful headaches pervading for weeks on end had stoked the Master Healer’s intrigue just as equally as it steamed Obi-Wan’s smoldering wariness. A fascination so zealous, that she pointed to and instructed the infirmary’s only two available medical droids to carry out a number of cranial scans as you all walked down the hall. Their wheeling bodies materializing by your side once the three of you entered one of the far observation rooms. Whirling and weaving to gather that first set of images before you even had the chance to sit down.

Master Kenobi couldn’t argue with the efficiency with which Master Nema accomplished her work. Nearly all of the ordered scans had been completed in a relatively short time.

But the urgency with which the doctor questioned you, while a whirlwind of droids circled your head like a pack of strike-Vultures, still had the repercussion of stoking Kenobi’s apprehension to the point of slowing down time itself. The longer Master Nema professionally fired query after query while dissonantly beeping droids traveled to and fro, the more Obi-Wan’s mind drifted to the idea that something really was wrong. And his anticipation of that theory swelled enough to knock each minute beyond his reach. As if shore waves towed sequential seconds farther out to sea.

Of course, as a broader consequence, Master Kenobi could already feel the delicate kindling of a faraway guilt emerge in his gut. Especially once he considered his delay in approaching you.

Had he spoken to you sooner, would the doctor have found her concerns to be less pressing? Would the results you were both still awaiting have proven to be more favorable?

But these thoughts only had the effect of stimulating a dull ache throughout Kenobi’s already tensed back, tightening around his spine like sentient vines as your short conversation with Master Nema reached its end.

Even as the Healer excused herself, his constant mix of disquiet and curiosity about your condition drove his eyes to follow the doctor, all the way up until her marbled head crest disappeared around the corner framing the narrowed doorway. As if her vanishing figure held the answers he sought.

Still, your mysterious affliction was not the only item that’d stoked an air of unease in the resting Jedi. Returning to the inside of the Infirmary’s borders had yanked back memories of his last dalliance with its muted decor and antiseptic aroma. The wounds he’d earned from the Battle of Geonosis were tended to by a similar set of droids in the chamber parallel to this one. A sliver of glass scarcely separated him from recollections of bruised ribs, broken bones, and an exceptionally disorienting concussion.

And, transparently, with reminders of discomfort came booming echoes of the harrowing days that bookended that medically invasive afternoon.

Memories he didn’t want to explore again.

Admittedly, in addition to masking this compounding unease, Master Kenobi had other motivations for his steadily declining posture, amplified as he leaned further back into the sturdy, sleek dividers that bordered you both. It happened to also be the only way Master Kenobi could offer you any semblance of space in such a cramped compartment. One that was so obviously designed for a single patient and no visitors.

You were tiredly perched on the infirmary bed’s side, legs dangling loosely. All while the last stubby medical droid completed a few final, even waves around your head with its hand’s built-in scanner. Yet, despite being planted in the opposite corner from the Master Jedi, the two of you still stood mere feet away from each other. A fact that was further highlighted by that same, pesky droid bumbling into Obi-Wan’s resting elbow for the fourth time as it maneuvered between you and the short wall of green luminescent data screens installed to his right.

Indisputably, it would’ve been easier to vacate these tight quarters to solve such a matter.

But Obi-Wan decided against it. He was still reticent to leave you completely alone.

Both of you knew Master Nema would be returning soon. The Healer had assured you that she’d only be gone down the hall for a few minutes to scan your results from the datapad in her private office. Yet, despite this mutual understanding, Obi-Wan immediately clocked from your shifting eyes toward the empty doorway that her brief withdrawal had fueled second thoughts about your decision to come here. This, in combination with the subtly doubting expression that stuck to your face the whole journey here, had easily convinced the Jedi Master that stepping out would’ve electrified that arch as a beacon of escape, driving you to follow those faintly perceptible impulses.

So, hence this observation, Master Kenobi decided it best to instead act as a tenuous deterrent, marking his territory between you and that sweet exit with an additional cross of his legs as he settled further into the glass wall.

The quiet beeps of scanning droids and ding of pinging monitors faded into a duller tone as Obi-Wan released his mind to wander through the events that led up to this point. It was true, that the Master Jedi had long been pondering what exactly was plaguing you in the time since you’d arrived at the Temple.

The bearded man was quite observant, first catching signs of sleeplessness during those few days on the shuttle back. And in those instances, the occasional flicker of despondency that cursorily contorted your features at the mention of his former Master’s name.

But those rare moments had never succeeded in dulling that reassuring spirit and attuned presence he’d become so accustomed to these past few weeks. It’d never challenged the composed strength that saturated your being so absolutely that it leaked from every inch of exposed skin like water from a wringing towel.

At least, not until the last week or so.

It was around then, Obi-Wan soon realized, that something had changed. And while he didn’t quite understand what exactly was occurring, he did know that some undisclosed element was uniformly snatching away threads of light from those two bright, silver eyes of yours. A physical feature that he’d recently registered as having one unintended effect:

They refreshed his senses from a mere glance alone.

Master Kenobi couldn’t deny to himself that after only a month or so of war, he’d become exhausted by not only the newly amplified duties placed upon him, but also by their militaristic, warlike nature. Missions of peace and humanitarianism had quickly devolved into defending free territories from heavily encroaching enemy lines.

The Council meetings that followed only stoked more of the same. Strategizing troop movements, assigning interplanetary campaigns, addressing casualties…

Had Obi-Wan had the ability to expose his former Padawan self to this future, he knew that young Kenobi would’ve never believed that the Jedi could ever be so entrenched in the politics and military responsibilities of a conflict at this scale.

But when he caught a flash of silver reflection from down a hall? At the corner of the refractory closest to his quarters? Near the edge of his vision in the Temple Gardens?

That weight suddenly felt just a little bit lighter.

The General wasn’t entirely sure why he became so overwhelmed with this sensation just at the mere sight of you. A sudden ease, a calmness that permeated his being in a way he’d never been able to summon on the battlefield.

Though he did have a few guesses.

You had always carried an air of serene confidence, of compassionate power, that struck at Obi-Wan’s core. Yes, these were all attributes expected of a Jedi. But your being didn’t simply carry these characteristics, Kenobi maintained. It was as if you had the artistry to will these qualities into existence from deep within your being. Like the vivid, lapping flames that encompass the entire mass of any radiant star.

And, to him, you wielded such strengths with absolute grace.

It was one such instance that Obi-Wan was still trying to wrap his head around. During your first duel with Anakin, the inclusion of one, brief conversation about his emotionally-charged behavior seemed to have knocked more sense into his impatient former Padawan than Kenobi had ever personally precipitated.

When he later inquired about the dialogue, The General readily respected your decision to keep the specifics of the exchange private. But it was when you relayed to him the vague takeaway of the power of compassion that Obi-Wan realized the reality of your statement.

That had he been in your same boots, applying that same dogma, Master Kenobi still wouldn’t have had much success.

The blue-eyed Jedi had always tried to be considerate with his former Padawan. He was hard on him at times, sure. And the two of them certainly had their many rows. But in the end, Obi-Wan always aimed to keep Anakin’s past in perspective.

He’d tried to protect him by teaching him of the importance of letting attachments go. Dispelling his fiery emotions, his ruffled history, and the people that were now a part of his past.

He tried to be a friend to him. A gentle reminder here. A reference to the Code’s importance in the life of any Jedi there. Yet still, the results were never so transformative.

And it was hard for the Master Jedi not to blame himself for that.

Though that load was slightly lifted by the hope your presence imbued.

Truly, Kenobi was thankful that one of Qui-Gon’s previous Padawans had emerged to partially aid him in fulfilling that deathbed promise he’d made to his former Master so long ago. Even if it was during a time following Anakin’s Knighthood.

Training the boy encompassed not only combat, but also the mastery of softer elements pertaining to becoming a wise Jedi capable of realizing The Chosen One prophecy. It was those latter skills that Obi-Wan never found complete success in communicating as Master to Padawan, having himself become an instructor the very same day he’d completed the Knighthood trials.

Yet, it seemed that addressing those weaknesses in his teachings came to you with relative ease. Something that made him wonder how things may have differed on the day of Geonosis had he discovered your existence earlier.

It was his inability to properly drill the importance of patience in the young boy that later led to the loss of his arm. Obi-Wan was convinced deep down, despite Anakin’s self-punishments, that in the end, it was his own fault. Kenobi’s fault for not equaling your effectiveness in addressing these matters.

Kenobi’s fault for the loss of Anakin’s arm.

Had he found you sooner, could it have all been avoided? Would you have made a connection with little Ani and trained him out of that nearly fatal mistake before he made it?

And what of the days that followed? When Anakin was recovering from that calamitous wound in this very Infirmary.

Obi-Wan vividly recalled the striking images from when he first visited his former Padawan after the battle’s devastation. He could never forget the complete agony that radiated off Anakin’s gnarled face as he stirred from a nightmare. He could never shut out from his mind those words that chestnut-haired Jedi screamed at him, red-veined eyes pulsing as he let slip his mother’s passing.

“And it’s all your fault!”

His heart clenched at the memory.

He didn’t know the details of her death, but he understood vaguely the visions which plagued Anakin in the leading days. Specters that he didn’t realize pointed to a surmounting danger.

And Anakin blamed him for it.

Would you have figured it out faster than him?

If so, then maybe, things could’ve been different.

The possibilities dashed by the delay in rescuing you from that desolate ice planet only lengthened the Jedi Master’s perceptible regret. Possibilities that would’ve become attainable through some mastery of connecting with Anakin’s being. Some familiarity so remarkable that it must’ve been willed by the prophetic elements of the Force itself long ago, Obi-Wan convinced himself.

A conclusion that left him to wonder why you were having an oddly similar effect on him.

Perhaps it was due to your separation from the war. Your lack of experience on a real battlefield freed your being from the weights chained to every Jedi who’d experienced its turmoil. Because even when news of ongoing skirmishes trickled in through visiting clones— tempering moods and gradually effervescing the bubbling anxieties among him, Anakin, and Ahsoka— you still appeared to ignite the surrounding air with sparks of anti-gravity the moment you entered the room.

When any one of them expressed concerns about the front, your soothing smile, teasing jabs, and intelligent reassurances had soon acclimatized the bearded Jedi to associate those hopeful eyes with your comforting existence, and the relaxation it imbued in him.

It was probably also why now, much like the last week in a half, Obi-Wan felt particularly disconcerted.

Without fail, he would be the first to catch on to those subtle dips in your lips in the refractory. The uncomfortable quirk of your brow in the Archives. Sometimes, even, an unexpected twitch of the nose while strolling down a Temple walkway. Always to be followed by a quiet farewell and your quick yet controlled retreat, leaving him without the opportunity to inquire about your condition without necessitating chase.

So it goes without saying that the Master Jedi was particularly relieved when Anakin approached him. Of course, not by the story of your incident in the Starfighter. But by the fact that he finally had a valid excuse to seek you out and investigate this ongoing issue. A trouble that he’d originally surmised as related to Qui-Gon before he was proven to be severely wrong.

Your reality was quite more bothersome.

Honestly, had you not been a force-sensitive being, Obi-Wan would’ve been less concerned. Headaches can be quite normal for the average individual.

But for a Jedi?

It had far more serious possibilities.

Pain in the mind could’ve pointed to an imbalance in the Force. And considering your true identity, and Qui-Gon and the Council’s reasons for hiding it, Kenobi had reason to take note.

Still though, you‘d been through a lot these past few weeks. The death of a Master. Leaving a home you’d known all your life only to be thrust into a far busier and more complicated environment. Finally facing down a dangerous legacy with galactic implications. It was an existence far more demanding than was expected of the average Jedi. Perhaps these migraines were simply a reflection of that fact, he considered.

Nevertheless, Obi-Wan wanted to make sure. He was no specialist in the medicinal aspects of the Force nor in how its energies physically manifested. And that meant the only other option was to consult someone with more expertise. Someone he equivocally trusted to make the right determination.

Qui-Gon was right. Kenobi did think about the future a little bit too much.

“Obi-Wan, if you keep staring at me like I’m about to drop dead, I’m gonna kick you out.”

Master Kenobi’s vision instantly refocused, lips parting slightly as he realized his gaze had accidentally wandered and stuck to your subtly dulled, silver orbs.

Immediately, he used his back to push off the screen, summoning a hand to check his beard’s placement in hopes of hiding the chilly embarrassment that ever so slightly crimsoned his cheeks. No matter, he doubled down, approaching you in a few steps with broad shoulders declaring self-assurance.

“You’re not getting rid of me quite that easily,” he casually quipped, dropping his arm loosely to the side once certain that brief flush drained from his ears.

At the same time, the pine-green medical droid stationed before you embraced this sudden split in the previously long-held silence as his cue. The machine wheeled around Obi-Wan, this time rudely knocking into the back of his leg in its scurry toward the screens spread out on the far wall. All the while releasing a flurry of affirmative beeps to signal the examination’s completion.

Of course, Obi-Wan’s eyes were careful not to reflect his mild agitation at the droid’s lack of spatial awareness while his gaze followed it.

Continuing to observe the green machine, Kenobi spoke, paying careful attention to its arm’s mechanical tendrils that extended into the wall’s receiver.

“I was taking the time to consider your situation.”

“What situation?” You emphasized rhetorically.

Obi-Wan’s features sobered in an effort to remind you of the potential gravity of your symptoms.

But you brushed aside his hardened brows, instead bouncing your gaze toward the uncoordinated droid as it finished retracting its arm from the console. Your vision remained locked, following its triangular head while the machine spun toward the room’s doorway, clipping the frame with an unfortunate clunk and shocked beep before reorienting itself to swerve down the parallel hall.

Even then, you extended the interval, allowing its buzzing gears and occasional clicks to grow more distant before continuing with a lowered voice.

“I went from living my life on an ice planet to now spending weeks in a much warmer climate. I’m probably not used to this environment yet. That’s all.”

The unconvinced man spied your eyes soften.

“I’d rather not be wasting medical resources for something that’s probably nothing. Especially in the middle of a war.”

Master Kenobi’s mouth twitched into a frown. “It’s not a waste if it provides the answers you’re looking for.”

“I’d agree if I believed the answers were medical,” you argued.

“This is a Jedi Infirmary,” he spotlighted. “Master Nema will be considering all phenomena that may affect a force-sensitive. Even an imbalance.”

Your brows fluttered inquisitively at this. “Is that what you think is happening? Some sort of imbalance?”

He hummed, hand reaching for his chin as his eyes drifted in thought. “I’m not quite sure. The mind of a Jedi is a complicated thing. The way in which it realizes our connection to the Force is often unpredictable. But headaches resulting from an imbalance are not unheard of,” he exhaled. “Although, I don’t feel anything strange in the space in or around you.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head, stretching out to the swirling energies around you both to confirm his observations from the last few weeks before meeting a familiar wall in the connecting strands.

“But I must admit, I do have trouble sensing your mind within the Force. So, I may be wrong.”

The nearly imperceptible sigh that escaped your nostrils drew his searching orbs back toward your lowered gaze in an instant.

“However,” he readily subsisted. “These are no ordinary scans. If these headaches are related to an imbalance, Master Nema would be the first Healer I trust to make that determination.”

But the one-sided stillness continued. The General spied your eyelids fold shut while you breathed deeply into the emptiness, kindling your despondency in such a way that it intensified Kenobi’s own discomfort. Mostly because he was growing more and more convinced that his reassurances were clearly making things worse.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear—“

“That’s ok, Obi-Wan,” you smiled at him tiredly, legs stretching as your gaze drifted toward your knees. “I heard something similar from Master Windu. If these scans don’t reveal anything, I’ll just return to those meditation sessions he suggested. They’ll have to reveal something eventually, medical or otherwise.”

Once again, Obi-Wan crossed his arms, a silent protest to the security you placed in that impractical solution. Assuming he’d properly understood your version of events from that earlier, rainy conversation, meditation had only made your migraines more unbearable.

A notion that certainly disturbed the seasoned Jedi.

Throughout his life, Master Kenobi took great comfort in connecting with the everlasting serenity that was the Force. Even as a youngling, when his imagination wandered less and less into daydreaming realms, he’d cherished these moments of silent outreach as a way to center his mind and hone his presence in the Galaxy.

But for you, in the last few days, it had only caused you pain. For you, these headaches actualized a blockade, sequestering your being from one of the most sacred acts known to any Jedi. Isolating you from peace.

And he refused to allow that to continue

Obi-Wan was dragged from his thoughts as your straightened legs limply fell back against the bedside, drawing his blue eyes toward spots of perspiration on your now stretching neck and sinking eyelids.

Seeing you like this, pushing yourself to the physical brink as a last-ditch attempt to tame these incidents, heaved upon him a draining atmosphere similar to those that weighed him down more heavily in these months of war.

Sensations he was still trying to put a name to.

But Obi-Wan didn’t need a title to know that his being was firm in at least one judgment— he didn’t want this affliction to torment you any longer.

Those words…

Name. Title.

It drudged up an abrupt thought in the ruminating Jedi. It was something you’d said. Or more, he soon realized, something Mace Windu had instructed you to do.

“Remind me,” he began with a punch, drawing your sparkling eyes toward his as he unstitched his shoulders. “Master Windu advised you to give a name to these incidents, yes?”

You nodded, eyes wandering toward the doorway as Obi-Wan continued steadfastly in his speech

“Silvey,” he called softly, drawing your attention back to him.

“What was the name—?”

“I’ve had a chance to review your scans, Silvey.”

Master Nema spoke resonantly as she materialized, carrying a polished bearing while pivoting through the open-aired doorway and toward your seated figure. Her cerulean-tinted eyelids and lips stood in stark contrast against lime-green shoulders, a distinction emphasized by bowed eyes that held affixed to the blue glow of the datapad in her dominant hand.

Regardless of the thickly sliced air, the Healer continued to evenly scroll through the device, having unknowingly cut off the previous exchange before you’d even had the chance to absorb Kenobi’s inquiry.

“And I don’t see anything of note. Just some heightened activity here.”

Obi-Wan watched as the gray-robbed Halaisi finally raised her gaze, extending the datapad toward your now curious form.

Taking the device, you scanned it quickly, eyes squinting while you mulled over some image stamped at the screen’s center beyond Kenobi’s view. Though you only mulled over the datapad for a few seconds before glancing up at the Healer candidly, a somewhat sheepish expression attempting to push through your unbending forehead.

“I’m not very familiar with the anatomy of the brain,” you admitted.

Shimming to your side without bumping into the bedside, Master Nema pointed a long, viridescent finger at the datapad. “This brighter, center portion here consists of your amygdala and hippocampus. They are responsible for several functions related to memories and emotional processing.”

She glanced at you.

“May I ask you to describe the weeks leading up to these migraines? Primarily, I’d like to know which locations you’ve visited and the activities you were engaged in.”

Obi-Wan sighed internally, biting his tongue. Even before Master Nema had finished her inquiry, the bearded Jedi was swift to realize a new issue— that your inevitable yet necessary response may undermine the accuracy of the Healer’s determinations.

And for an instant, Kenobi nearly imagined that you’d read his mind.

Not a second later, you subtly glimpsed at The General’s now very watchful stare, only to confirm with determined eyes that you knew what you needed to do.

And that he had no chance of changing your mind.

Because Master Yoda and Master Windu advised that such truths must remain hidden. As revealing your real identity could amplify the very real threat to your life. So, without their permission, your predetermined fabrication needed to become the truth to Master Nema as well.

“I’ve recently returned from a years-long mission for the Council,” you dispassionately parroted. “However, I’m unable to discuss it in detail.”

Master Nema nodded unflinchingly, having become long accustomed to the importance of discretion in most Jedi matters.

“I understand,” she relayed, retrieving the datapad from your outstretched hand. “Can you share if you’ve had any occurrences similar to these during your assignment?”

Unblinkingly, you confidently answered.

“I did not.”

“Good,” she expressed, satisfied. “Further details will not be needed.”

Lowering her arm to rest the datapad by her side, the doctor angled herself more fully toward both you and Obi-Wan as she delivered her diagnosis.

“From these symptoms and affected regions, and with no other indications of illness on your scans, I understand that you are experiencing a side effect of prolonged stress.”

Obi-Wan covertly peered at your reaction, curiously taking in the unexpected neutrality that characterized your countenance.

“Stress?” You repeated, asking for confirmation.

“Yes,” Master Nema established, unbothered by your unconvinced manner as she turned away and strolled toward the gentle green glow of busily flashing screens plastered by Obi-Wan’s side.

“It’s quite common,” she maintained, her exposed upper back greeting you both as the displays’ ceaseless stream of looping data commandeered her sight.

“But I must admit,” she noted. “I’ve only seen these cases more recently, since the war began.”

Cunningly rearranging several charts of what Kenobi saw as an assortment of disparate numbers and calculations, the Jedi Healer soon centered on a corner window before beginning the long trial of analyses inputs, gathered from the occasional glance toward her purposefully angled datapad as she expounded.

“The Jedi are involved in prolonged duties of war that they were never meant for. And without time for meditation, it has caused many to internalize these experiences. This is why the symptoms of these strains usually begin after returning to the Temple. When their bodies are given a chance to rest and connect with the Force, the effects of prolonged stress are then allowed space to materialize.”

“Materialize as headaches?” Obi-Wan questioned from his once quiet perch.

Master Nema broke away from the left screen mid-data entry, angling to face the bearded Jedi with golden-rimmed eyes and a forthright manner.

“This is the first time I’ve heard of headaches as a symptom,” she admitted. “But from the general history described, the causes appear to be the same. Also, the hippocampus and amygdala are known to respond to stress-inducing environments. And headaches are not a far stretch from the primary indicators. Lack of focus, exhaustion…”

Master Nema stretched to eye your figure thoughtfully.

“I believe you’re showing the latter.”

At that remark, Kenobi immediately noticed a chink in your impartiality as a flake of disappointment slipped past the corners of gently pursed lips.

His forehead crinkled at the trickle of confusion dripping down his hairline. Obi-Wan thought you’d be relieved to hear that this affliction was not as dire as it had the potential to be.

It appeared that the Jedi Healer must’ve noticed the same shift in expression as she offered you a diplomatic smile. Those that are often reserved by doctors for their more unfamiliar patients.

“Rest, Silvey. Meditate. Do something to take your mind off of the stresses of your mission. It’s over now.”

And, in response, you offered a simple nod.

“Thank you, Master,” you relayed sincerely, offering a flash of amicability. “I’ll try to do that.”

You pushed off the medical bed with sudden haste, toes landing on the floor gingerly as your legs briskly steered through and out the doorway. The skilled maneuverings easily drew Obi-Wan’s attention, compelling him to detect a precise shift in your most noticeable features as you passed by.

How your eyes submerged into a subtle, gray glaze, and how your jaw inappreciably tightened.

It was enough to provoke him to launch a pursuit of his own, hoping to make up for the past few weeks of mistakes in not doing exactly this. All with the intent to close the distance with your quickly departing being after exchanging a parting nod with Master Nema.

“Silvey,” he projected, pacing toward your weaving form beyond the last few cubicles that pointed to the Infirmary’s exit like an arrow.

He caught your gate slacken as you entered the connecting Temple walkway, casually pivoting toward his quick steps while you waited for him to catch up. Still, you didn’t give Kenobi a chance to finish his approach before beginning to speak unapologetically, offering a straight face and a hand on each hip as you made a particularly bold statement

“It’s not stress.”

Had he not been present in the observation room, Master Kenobi would’ve unequivocally believed your statement right then and there. From three, fearless words alone. Spoken with such sheer simplicity that it was as if you were reminding him that Coruscant’s sky was, in fact, blue.

Still, disregarding the momentary speculation your confidence imbued, Obi-Wan held onto the reality of your situation. Or, more accurately, the relative soundness of Master Nema’s diagnosis while his pace effortlessly eased by your side.

“You don’t know that,” he contested as you pivoted, carrying on your trek down the pillared and lilac-carpeted walkway while his legs seamlessly moved in sync with yours. “The history you provided may not be accurate, but that doesn’t mean stress isn’t the source. Master Nema said the scans support her diagnosis.”

“It’s not stress,” you reflexively repeated, the same, unshakable conviction as pulsing as before that locked Kenobi’s gaze onto you while you continued.

“Stress is natural. It’s our being’s way of telling us something. Reminding us to take a break. To take time for ourselves. But whatever this is,” you gesticulated into the air, hand twirling as if it was conjuring the very affliction from the surrounding pillars’ essence. “It isn’t natural. It’s different. Deep inside me, but not. Disconnected—“

From a lightning flash of sliver, Obi-Wan was temporarily taken aback as he was forced to absorb your stilled yet rich perseverance. Bleeding through eyes that whipped over to challenge his stare, drawing you both to a sudden halt.

While emphasizing each consonant, you calmly declared once more your obstinate verdict.

“It is not stress.”

For a few seconds, the Master Jedi searched your face, keeping an eye out for any inkling of a quiver in your fortitude. Any sign of withheld doubts. Any indication that there was something you weren’t comfortable sharing.

But quite immediately, The General realized that even if he’d stood there for days, all would’ve remained the same. There were no hints that you could’ve been convinced otherwise. No way for him to persuade you that stress affected the body just as mysteriously as the Force.

So, he acquiesced.

“Alright,” he acknowledged, a gentleness enveloping his tone. “For now, let’s agree that it may not be stress. You’ve been managing them with the same approaches Master Nema suggested, no?”

“I have…” you skeptically concurred. “But it’s not sustainable.”

The sound of your exhale roped Obi-Wan’s attention as you reached up to rest a palm on your eye. Your cheeks sagged in resignation, subduing your voice while you spoke.

“I guess I’ll just try to get some rest.”

Obi-Wan’s brows creased in an unpleasant recognition.

Those disjointed eyes? The carefully constructed monotonousness you’ve held since making your escape from the Infirmary?

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan was quickly becoming a master at pinpointing the signs.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” He delicately inquired.

You shook your head incredulously, a small smile inching out of the corner of your mouth as you peeked at him.

“Is it that obvious?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly why he did it. Why his arms reached for your shoulders, grasping their cold frames with a pleasant squeeze. As if some foreign entity now controlled and commanded both limbs with a set of knotted strings. A mind other than his own that believed the only way you’d hear his words was through physical and visual touch alone.

For a split second, at the base of his subconscious, with eyes locked onto yours, Kenobi speculated that perhaps it was a piece of Qui-Gon left behind that commandeered his actions. You’d mentioned to Obi-Wan that your former Master believed your stubbornness to be a considerable strength, yet a ramifying weakness. Something the bearded Jedi certainly recognized as he spent more time with you in the past few weeks.

Knowing the dearly departed, your at times cloaked stubbornness on such affairs plausibly necessitated Master Quinn to rely on similar measures to finally break through.

So why not do the same?

“Let me help you. You’re not on Hoth anymore. There are beings that can assist you here,” he frustratingly exhaled. “You told me yourself that rest has done nothing. I can provide a suitable distraction, if you’d allow me.”

Kenobi’s careful gaze caught the minute disorientation that blinked from reactive brows. You clasped your hands and, for the first time since he’d known you, an air of timidness encircled your ears.

“I appreciate the offer,” you began conscientiously, displaying a thankful smile “But that wouldn’t be fair to you. I know that there are probably a number of Council tasks you’ve sacrificed to check on me, which I appreciate. But I shouldn’t keep you away from those responsibilities any longer.”

“You and I both know that the Council’s activities have laxed since the incident with the communications system,” he securely reminded you as the bud of a perfect excuse blossomed into the puff of levity that captured his voice.

“Besides, this would be more of an exchange than a sacrifice.”

“Oh?” You uttered.

Your demure smile stretched into an infectious smirk, which only amplified Obi-Wan’s gaiety through brightened cheeks.

“You seem to have forgotten your promise,” he bantered.

Your head tilted.

“My promise?”

“The Muntuur?”

The bottom half of your face instantly transformed into a broad grin.

“Ah, yes,” you exaggerated teasingly. “How could I’ve forgotten a promise as dire as that.”

“Then you agree?” He quickly inquired. “You instruct me on how to use the device, and you can be confident that I will ask enough questions to keep your mind occupied.”

“I believe you may be on the better side of this deal,” you poked.

Kenobi watched as your eyes wafted toward the far-reaching Temple ceilings in thought. And in pondering his request amidst the absurdity of this exchange, Obi-Wan was fortunate enough to just barely catch your attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Alright,” you feigned defeat, silver orbs flickering as you glanced at him.

“I agree.”

—

Kenobi drifted deeper into his settled posture, legs folded in angled balance as he extended his deliverance into the swirling energies of the Force. Straightening his back, his focused mind welcomed the omnipresent stream to encircle him in the empty training dojo, never to be hindered by its milky white walls nor wood-bordered panels.

Wherever he was, The General sensed this to be true. That the Force would always be with him.

Rationally, Obi-Wan knew that any second, you’d be strolling through those two gray sliding doors to join him, Muntuur in hand after retrieving it from your quarters per his request. Yet still, Kenobi found that even in the most cursory of moments, meditation proved to always be a feasible endeavor. Despite sometimes having only a few seconds to fully connect with his surroundings, Obi-Wan found that stretching into the constant flow would still center his mind in a manner that could last for hours. Perhaps days, if he’d found particular focus.

But he hadn’t always had the aptitude to enter those cavernous reflective states so rapidly. Especially as a Padawan, when his mind took a little bit more tugging to wrench it away from concerns of the future so to focus on the here and now. It was a realm he always had to strive toward. A speedy existence he’d been further compelled to master had he any hope of engaging in such comforts during the ceaseless activities of war.

A lifestyle he knew he’d be returning to soon.

From the final review of the Temple’s security system this morning, it was ultimately discovered that there had, in fact, been a leak in the communications system. Specifically, an exposed transceiver code. And, of course, of the many technical specialists and machines tasked with rooting out the issue, Artoo, Anakin’s prized blue-and-white droid, was the one to discover it.

Due to Count Dooku’s formerly wide access to sensitive Temple data, Master Yoda had decided to alter all related security measures so to ensure that the Separatists were not given a tactical advantage after The Battle of Geonosis. That included identifying and deactivating the extensive array of transceiver codes that Dooku was aware of.

But, unfortunately, it seemed that one was missed. A single line of digits once only privy to Council transmissions during Dooku’s short stint as a member, long before Obi-Wan’s time. An easy mistake that proved to have significant consequences, setting back the Republic’s stance by forcing the Jedi off the battlefield as clone battalions temporarily took command.

And just after they’d finally gotten one step ahead of the Separatists following the Republic victory on Christophsis, no less.

Either way, The General understood that he’d soon see the damage himself once given his first return assignment. A mission that would include you, considering Master Yoda’s decision to separate you from Anakin on the battlefield for the time being.

But there wasn’t time for such considerations any longer. No more musings about what the future held. Not in a time when he should’ve been blending his mind with the rippling stream.

A time cut short.

The whoosh of an automatic door releasing tickled his ears, followed by a cool gust of creeping air that further drew Obi-Wan out of his concentrative state. A quick wrench akin to similar interruptions by Commander Cody during those off-world campaigns in the months prior.

His eyelids peeled open at the new, subtle presence before him. And in the moments that followed, it didn’t take long for Kenobi to take note of your more upbeat figure, revitalized by the prospect of the coming distraction in the form of teaching a lesson on ancient implements, Obi-Wan hoped. A divertissement to be governed by The Muntuur whose glint caught the bearded Jedi’s eye.

“Excellent,” Master Kenobi expressed, raking his gaze over the half-circle metal headpiece that hung loosely from your fingertips while he untangled, placing a hand on his knee to help him stand. “Now tell me how it works.”

Obi-Wan spotted a quirk in your brows as you steadily approached, a token of entertainment at his eagerness, no doubt.

You hummed flippantly. “It would be easier to just show you, you know.”

And Master Kenobi wholeheartedly agreed, but that wasn’t why he was doing this. He couldn’t deny that he’d been ardently waiting since you told him about The Muntuur to put the apparatus to the test. But, right now, he had more important matters to address than his budding curiosity.

To focus your mind on easier topics. On the intricacies of a long-lost Jedi device. And on the concentration required to explain it to him.

And that meant putting some skin in the game.

“I’d much rather hear it from your own voice,” he contended, nonchalant gaze somewhat lowering to meet yours as your shorter, slightly amused figure stalled within arms reach of his chest.

And with your quick-beat response, it was clear to Obi-Wan that you’d in some measure caught on to his ruse.

“Well, how could I deny such a charmed request?”

A tickled smile crawled across Kenobi’s features at your faintly sarcastic tone. An expression that persisted fervently despite noticing a sincerity wash away your brief masquerade.

“I must warn you, Obi-Wan. What I’ve learned about this device was through significant trial and error. Not even Qui-Gon really understood it.”

Still, the Jedi Master’s encouraging regard never quivered. A long-held desire to grasp and digest your knowledge radiated from his being. Strong enough, it seemed, to persuade you to continue as you held up The Muntuur for easy viewing.

“If you have the imagination, and the specifications, you can program it to simulate virtually anything. Any drill or duel you can imagine. Any environment. Any foe. As long as you know the strengths, behaviors, and appearances involved in your desired program, then it can be created by inputting them here.”

Obi-Wan adjusted as you turned your back toward him to display the device’s rear. Specifically, the small, anciently designed input panel whose miniature screen emitted an amber gleam between your secured fingers.

He craned his neck farther over your shoulder, the fragrance of star jasmines wafting from your loose hair and into his nostrils as he strived to take a closer look.

“My holobooks often provided enough information for me to recreate their contents for training purposes,” you continued to explain. “Honestly, I’ve used The Muntuur so much that I still have a number of designations memorized. Including…”

Master Kenobi scrutinized the tiny display as your fluttering fingers tapped away, making selections and adjusting parameters so expeditiously that it was as if an invisible memory bank of numbers and terms were stored in your wrist. You readied the device so expertly, in fact, that the brief trailing off of your voice was smoothly picked up following the short, concentrative pinch.

“…this little guy.”

He watched while your thumb danced to the small, circular black button resting in the panel’s corner, pressing and holding it down until a startling beep cheered from the device. An unexpected noise that swiveled your figure back toward the Master Jedi, arm outstretched in offering as a barely hampered enthusiasm elevated your features.

However, with an undetermined inspection narrowing on the instrument, Obi-Wan suddenly felt hesitant to accept.

He often found comfort in understanding the more nuanced aspects of unknown technologies before diving right in, unlike his former Padawan. Consequently, The Master Jedi had honestly been anticipating a more detailed explanation. But from the rapid fire of input codes and language specifications that manifested from your exceptional proficiency, Obi-Wan now realized that, even with your guidance, such in-depth adroitness was sure to take weeks if not months.

Time he, unfortunately, did not have.

“Don’t worry,” you brightly assured, arm still extended with the gleaming metal headpiece. “The safety protocols are engaged. It won’t bite.”

Kenobi’s stare snapped toward yours as he cautiously took the device.

“Safety protocols?” He inquired, turning over the cold metal in his palms as he observed its ornate craftsmanship. “I’ve never heard of a simulation creating a safety issue.”

“It’s more than a simulation,” you elucidated, jutting a thumb toward his grasp. “Notice how there’s no visor?”

Obi-Wan flipped the device, realizing the accuracy of your statement as his befuddled eyes met its rather barren fore.

“It functions by triggering the electrical impulses in your neurons. Because it creates the simulation with your mind, certain programs need to be active to prevent the more subconscious parts of your brain from confusing artificial injuries with reality.”

“That is…quite fascinating…” Obi-Wan uttered, taking one last scan of the unique instrument before glancing at your intrigued features, captivated by a typhoon of ruminations on the device’s remarkable functions, he assumed.

“So I won’t feel pain?”

You shook your head heartily, emphasizing each word that followed. “No, you’ll certainly feel pain. But you won’t receive any grievous injuries.”

And the General’s spine stiffened from shock at this. Eyes wide as he searched your matter-of-fact countenance for clarification.

“Silvey, are you saying this device can cause real-world harm?”

“Only if the safety protocols are off,” you undauntedly reminded before your voice relaxed into a fonder, more reminiscent timbre.

“I learned that piece of programming the hard way,” you chuckled. “Qui-Gon almost threw the whole thing away after I nearly bled to death from a stab to the shoulder. A fairly treatable wound in the likes of Coruscant, I’m sure. But when you have no choice but to work with a few, expired bacta pads, it can become a little dicey.”

Master Kenobi’s once intrigued disposition had slowly devolved into a frown.

He knew this implement was old. Likely used by ancient Jedi who followed a widely contrasting set of rules in a lawless world of dark adversaries. But he never predicted that their training equipment would allow for such risk in the name of growth. There was a reason younglings learned on training sabers. So that they need not face the same life-threatening dangers that you seem to have faced every day at their age. Whether through an unpredictable apparatus or the nature of your icy asylum.

Obi-Wan barely noticed the thickening of a faintly simmering temper, mixed with frustration and confusion as he finally considered the reality of your upbringing. The bearded Jedi cared for his former Master deeply, and he clearly understood that Qui-Gon had done his best to protect you under severe circumstances. But the auburn-haired man couldn’t get over the sheer recklessness that characterized his decision-making as your custodian.

Had he not checked this device thoroughly before handing it off to a child? That didn’t sound like the wise man he’d known for all his life. Though Qui-Gon did have many responsibilities on top of your secret existence. Most of which likely prevented him from imparting the same thoroughness and circumspect to which he gifted Obi-Wan.

Still, it was no excuse.

And the longer he sat with that realization, the more your recollection ruffled Obi-Wan. Especially when your cavalier attitude proved your innocence to the underlying issue that Kenobi was so peeved by.

A reaction that you just seemed to notice, but failed to correctly attribute.

“Obi-Wan.”

You spoke gently, reaching out a cold, comforting hand to rest beneath his, providing a little extra lift in supporting the gadget’s portable weight. His eyes followed your arm, naturally landing on the two, strikingly silver orbs that relaxed his tensed muscles and unsettled thoughts with mollifying memories of uncomplicated talks and silent company.

“I promise you, you’re not gonna get hurt. I would never have agreed to share The Muntuur with you had I believed for a second it would cause serious harm.”

And there it was again. Those gentle, sparkling features that cozily blanketed Obi-Wan’s line of vision with honest poise. Accompanied by relieving words that freshly astounded him in every instant they fell from your lips.

Your life. Your upbringing. Devoid of connection and saturated with harsh dangers in an inhospitable habitat. Yes, a Jedi was expected to forgo all attachments, but this isolation had been to an extreme.

Yet every day. In every moment he had the chance to grace your presence. To get to know you. You’d shimmer like a being who’d known unconditional love from the galaxy, and was simply acting as a conduit to relay that benevolence onto others.

But that wasn’t your reality, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Besides Qui-Gon’s disbanded guidance, you had only known the cold.

Still, even that jarring refuge was likely more enticing than the prospect of facing a dark nemesis too soon.

You’d only known struggle, yet diffused compassion.

You really were something.

“I trust you,” Master Kenobi finally spoke, raising The Muntuur to secure its chilly, rigid form atop his head.

While his hands lowered, Obi-Wan felt a slight dig as the device morphed to fit his skull’s dimensions. A low, mechanical purr was followed by strange tingling sensations that danced across his temples like docile Endorian ants.

But after a few, stagnant seconds, in which a stillness recouped the air, nothing else occurred.

The Jedi Master knew that you’d intended for some program to run, yet he saw nothing. Just the dojo’s durable, cream-tinted walls supported by pillars of hickory brown wood.

“How do I know if the simulation has begun?” Obi-Wan questioned, eyes glancing toward your figure as you purposefully ambled backward to grant more clearance to the focused Jedi.

A delighted smirk tugged up at your countenance from chin to ears as you slowed to a halt about twelve meters away.

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know.”

A deep, guttural roar bellowed from behind, provoking a somewhat startled Master Kenobi to detach his lightsaber mid-whirl as he faced the blare with the blade’s instantly ignited, blue glow.

Coiled into a stalking pose at the opposite wall was the brown-gold body of a particularly irate Nexu. Its four, beady red eyes pierced Kenobi’s senses, drawing considerable attention to the broad set of dagger-like teeth that stretched across half its face as the beast soon began to circularly prowl. The inchmeal movements of its sharp claws and flicking tails quickly compelled Kenobi to step into a cautious counter, sidestep after sidestep so to avoid closing that precarious gap.

“I believe we have different definitions of what qualifies as a ‘little guy!’” Obi-Wan sarcastically called out, his readily extended saber maintaining the standoff while he kept a slow, methodical distance.

“I think he’s kinda cute!” You gushed.

Obi-Wan’s head whipped to stare at you in utter disbelief, hoping to communicate his complete disagreement with such a statement. In fact, he manifested with his eyes alone the question of whether you were truly seeing the same ghastly brute as him.

But any answer he sought would have to wait, it appeared. The momentary glance at your chuckling figure was cut short by the beast’s consciousness of Kenobi’s brief distraction.

Its paws struck the ground with a sharp crack, signaling the Nexu’s powerful charge toward Obi-Wan as the latter’s attention snapped back toward the rapidly closing-in creature. One, he now noticed, whose approach could be viscerally sensed, further persuading the Master Jedi to poise himself for the coming strike that he felt through the surrounding flow.

“I can feel its movement within the force!” He called out while dodging a quick slash of the right set of claws. “How is that possible?!”

“It’s part of the programming,” you leveled candidly while Obi-Wan sprinted for a better vantage point toward the far wall, slithering beast on his tail.

“I think that’s why Qui-Gon assumed it was built for the Jedi,” you continued. “Never could figure out how that part worked.”

Drawing on the stream around him as he reached the dead end, Kenobi leapt onto the wall, maintaining his momentum while he followed its architecture around the training room.

Still, the slobbering huffs of the Nexu stayed close behind, especially once the creature’s biting claws lodged into the same partition, empowering it to launch into a rather slippery chase while its talons fought against the smoother sectionals.

However, the agile Jedi persisted, formulating a plan as his eyes locked onto an abruptly nearing corner.

With the blustering beast just a few steps behind, Kenobi broke away toward the opposite intersecting wall. Then, with cold air resisting against his face, Obi-Wan exercised the boost to reach and thrust against this new push-off point, barreling into a flip back toward the growling beast that still struggled to skitter across this raised vantage point.

Swiftly, while the Master Jedi glided midair, Kenobi brought down his blue luminescence to slash at the Nexu’s back. It was in that instant, that he successfully severed several of its sharp quills, a pink ooze soaking the creature’s fur while it wailed out in agony.

Embracing the Force to cushion his descent, Obi-Wan partially floated to the stone floor, toes centering his landing as the beast once clawing across the dojo wall writhed into a short plummet, striking the floor with a boom just meters beyond his feet.

Kenobi watched on while the Nexu pitifully rolled to its side, emitting a flurry of pained squeaks and whimpers in its parade to expose its underside, a symbol of surrender.

But that white flag wasn’t what prompted Obi-Wan to abruptly unfasten The Muntuur from his skull and end the program, leading the now docile Nexu to fade into nothingness as the device hummed through its deactivation.

No.

Instead, the slightly panting Jedi’s attention was seized by a sudden burst of laughter from the far corner, flinging his bewildered yet slightly curious gaze toward your bent-over form leaned against the dojo’s gray doors.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just, this is the first time I’ve seen someone use The Muntuur from an outside perspective and I’m—” Another fit of giggles poured out of your gut, squeezing Obi-Wan’s brows to raise in delight at the sound.

“I’m just now wondering how Qui-Gon kept a straight face! With nothing there for me, it just looks like you’re running around in circles, and—“

Another howl of laughter colored the air, touching his chest with a strangely familiar sensation. One that he couldn’t quite clearly recall, but knew still that it had been something he’d experienced a couple times a year as a young Padawan.

On those few evenings in the fall when his training had ended early for the day, young Kenobi would run off to the Glitannai Eslpanade to experience the Festival of Stars. And while he appreciated the joy of dancing beings and the artistry of performative acrobatics, he’d only really had one motive for sneaking off with a nut brown robe tightly concealing his Jedi identity amongst the bustling crowds.

It was to gawk at the falling Ithorian rose petals, flung from the sky like euphoric tears at each year’s parade on Coruscant.

A sight he could never drag his eyes away from, no matter how hard he tried.

This wasn’t exactly what Obi-Wan had planned when he decided to focus your mind on matters separate from those stress-induced headaches. But he certainly wasn’t going to complain about finding success through other means. The undeniably beaming expression on your face meant that something he did had lessened the headache that’d emerged following your infirmary visit, at least.

Perhaps that was what gave rise to his inner appreciation for your enlivened state. Because when he heard your laughter spring throughout the room, it confirmed for him that he’d finally taken a little bit of your pain away.

And that idea alone tugged fiercely at his facial muscles, coaxing him to give rise to a smile.

But Obi-Wan shoved that down, instead adopting a rather unimpressed gaze as his voice oozed with sarcasm.

“I’m pleased you find my defensive techniques so amusing.”

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korcariiwitch · 3 months

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oc(s) meme. ✨

Tagged by: @laezels! Tysm for the tag! <3

(So uhhhh I decided to fill this out for both my OCs, since I haven't really posted much for Skora and needed to flesh both of them out more, so umm don't mind me 🖤)

name: velwyn melarn name: skora aldisian

nickname(s): vel, v, wynnie (hates the last one though) nickname(s): kora, sko, allie

pronouns: she/her pronouns: she/her

star sign: scorpio star sign: virgo

height: 5' 4" / 162.5cm height: 5' 9" / 175.2cm

orientation: pansexual orientation: pansexual

race: drow (bhaalspawn) race: half-elf (sun elf/human)

romancing: astarion romancing: shadowheart (might be karlach depending on how her playthrough goes 👀)

fave fruit: cherries. fave fruit: dates.

fave season: less so a favorite season and more so she likes whenever there's a storm going on. something about the feeling of the rain/snow on her skin feels invigorating and the catharsis of everything being washed away. fave season: winter, preferably indoors and cooped up next to a hearth.

fave flower: orchids (ones that grow in the dark especially). fave flower: irises and hyacinths.

fave scent: iron, mint, and eucalyptus. fave scent: sea salt and cedar wood.

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: coffee to compensate for the lack of rest most days. prefers it black with a minimal amount of sugar. coffee, tea or hot chocolate: many various types of teas. she's a bit of a snob about it actually (affectionate).

average sleep hours: it would be the standard 4 hours of trance, if not interrupted nightmares or the debilitating migraines brought on by suppressing her bloodthirsty urges. average sleep hours: skora is adept at quieting her mind and can reliably/consistently get six hours of sleep even under the most dire of circumstances.

dogs or cats: quasits, owlbears, intellect devourers. pre-events of the game it wasn't sustainable for durge to have pets, and she finds herself drawn to the more unconventional ones. dogs or cats: skora has a fondness for dogs, having grown up with many hunting dogs in her youth.

dream trip: pre-tadpole there was no point in dreaming of travel for pleasure, outside of her father's vision of a world covered in corpses. post the events of the game i think she'd just like to see more of the world beyond what the underdark/bhaal's temple has to offer her. dream trip: i think she'd like to return home to the isle she is from, she hasn't been there since childhood due to ~certain events~ and i think having a partner/friends in tow might help make that journey palatable.

amount of blankets: it doesn't matter how many you put on her because there's a 98.7% chance she's going to end up kicking them off at some point. secretly, velwyn prefers the compression of her partner acting as weighted blanket. amount of blankets: one, no more than two. barely moves in her sleep and wakes up in the morning with the blankets exactly where she left them the night before.

random fact(s): velwyn ❤️

velwyn is quite the sketch artist, and she keeps a journal (almost like a book of shadows) in the game chronicling her journey. some of the sketches can be a bit disturbing, though, especially if she's a fondness for the subject. (e.g. a rather gruesome sketch of astarion because she didn't know what to do with her feelings towards him)

fluent in common, undercommon, elvish, deep speech and knows some abyssal and infernal as study for a certain heist.

likes to collect weird shit for study and experimentation later. has led to some 'accidents' around camp during the squad's downtime.

knows how to stitch wounds together exceptionally well, will stubbornly insist upon patching herself up half the time until she becomes more comfortable with the concept of other people taking care of her.

enjoys being challenged and called out on her own shit by others, even if she'd never admit that.

random fact(s): skora 💙

fluent in common, gnomish, celestial, primordial, elvish, draconic and also knows common sign language.

knows how to sail from her family's business, but actually gets incredibly sea sick.

while in school, she double majored in abjuration and divination with minors in illusion and necromancy magics.

has an astigmatism but refuses to 'correct it' with magic, so she'll pull out glasses while reading.

she has a natural calming presence and a quiet confidence, she doesn't feel the need to gloat but will put someone in their place if pushed.

No pressure/obligation tagging: @anderwelt, @malewife-mansplain-magus, @topaz-carbuncle, @phasebun, @starryjuicebox, @elminsters, @vspin, @tavsboots @asharaks, @bhaalbaaby and anyone else who sees/wants to do this!

#tag meme #my ocs.#oc: velwyn melarn #oc: skora aldisian #got a little lost in the sauce here not gonna lie 😅#also if i ever tag u in stuff too much pls lmk!!!#and also if you see this and i didn't tag u is either a) i don't wanna be annoying or b) my goldfish memory (i'm sorry)

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andreafmn · 9 months

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Bound | Chapter 1

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: graphic depictions of death, implied/referenced SA

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: tried my best to write the pain and turmoil Rosalie might have felt during such a horrendous moment. I feel like her backstory is so overlooked in the story and, for me, it's one of the most tragic. I hope I do her justice with this and the coming chapters. Also, I want to say to any and all survivors of SA that you are not alone and what happened to you is not your fault, it never will be. I hope you have healed or are healing. And if you ever just need an ear to listen, I am here. 🤍

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Rosalie Hale should have been protected. That much she knew to be true. She should have been able to revel in a perfect life. A perfect house, perfect children, a perfect husband, all complements to her being a perfect wife.

Everything should have been perfect because she already was.

But there was something about a perfect thing that she did not know until it was too late. Whenever it was scrutinized, the cracks started to appear. The paint that was used to make everything seamless was bulky and uneven. Nothing was perfect. Nothing could even come close.

Still, it had been far too late to see all the flaws of what was supposed to be her perfect life.

Everything had happened to her so quickly. Her courtship to Royce King the Second, to their engagement, to the date of the wedding. It was the thing of fairytales. Or at least, that was what she had thought –what she had been raised to believe. The perfect prince to the beautiful princess.

His façade was impeccable. He did the right things, said the right things; he played the part well. Too well. It made it easy for Royce to hide his faults. Because they didn’t exist to the naked eye. His lingering eye was only witnessed by the women he would make uncomfortable, but they would never speak of it. His drunkenness was reserved for the late hours of the night, in the company of his closest friends. His blatant disregard for Rosalie was only spoken of in whispers, spilling into the ears of his most trusted confidantes. He did not have to worry about anyone else knowing just how execrable he actually was.

The fact that he was marrying the Rosalie Hale was enough to allow his behavior. She was a testament to the fact that he could have anything he wanted without having to work too hard at it. All it took to reel her in were a few words and flowers, some public outings and he had her trapped in his spell.

At that point, she didn’t know it. That the love he seemed to have for her was only his part to play. How could she? Royce King was her ticket to everything she had ever worked toward. He was the trophy for the part she had to play. It didn’t matter that she was not in love with him, she loved everything he could give her. She didn’t mind feeling like an empty shell of a human if it looked like she had everything. She knew it was vain and shallow, but it was what she had been molded to be.

What she never thought was that the same person she believed would grant her every dream would be the very reason it was taken away. Ripped and taken from her without another thought.

The day had started well enough for her. With her wedding only a week away, her head could only be preoccupied with the final details of the event and everything that would come after. Even as she spent the night with Vera, her best friend, watching as her husband loved her and her son grew beautifully, Rosalie could only think of when it would be her own child reaching their arms up to be carried. She would have the life she wanted because that was what she was promised.

But the night was harsh and unforgiving. In hindsight, she would have taken that as a warning. The cold truth was slapping her in the face long before real hands had. When she was yelled at by Royce on the empty street, she should have turned around. She should have listened to the trembling in her limbs as he treated her as nothing more than a prize he had won. She should have ran and kept running.

But his grasp around her was tight, bruising. He grabbed her like she was his possession, as though her body had never belonged to her. And he wanted to show her off because she did, she belonged to him.

She remembered trying to fight. Whatever happened next, she could hold on to the fact that she had tried to fight. Even if it had been to no avail. No amount of strength could have been enough to protect her, at least not of any she knew.

Then, she remembered how frozen she had felt. Not because of the cold in the weather, but because her limbs had gone stiff. Royce and his friend were drinking in her pain, rejoicing in her screams. She couldn’t give them that. So, she froze. Rosalie allowed them to take everything from her but the fact that she was in so much pain.

They took her clothes, they took her will, they took her beauty, they took her body. They took and took until there was nothing left to give. They even believed they had taken her life. But something inside her was holding on. Something she cried would just let it all end. There was nothing left for her to hold on to, Rosalie just wanted the nightmare to end since her dream definitely had.

Rosalie could have sworn that she had spent hours on that dimly lit street begging for death to take her in its arms and whisk her away. She didn’t want to be cold, she didn’t want to be in pain. She no longer wanted to be. All she could do was wait until it all stopped.

Instead of the impending doom of death, she had been carried away by someone she couldn’t identify at first. At first, she believed it was the Angel of Death crossing her to the afterlife. The speed at which they were traveling felt as much. But soon she was being laid on a bed, where she was bitten on every inch of her body and it made her wish she was back to the pain from before. At least that was bearable until death came. This kind of ache ran across her entire body, freezing her veins and adjusting every fiber of her being. It was overwhelming enough that she could smell… sage? Maybe even moringa and rosemary. Possibly even a hint of ginger.

Rosalie wanted to laugh at that realization, not that her body allowed her to. She wanted to chuckle at the mere fact that her brain had decided to trick her with the smells of herbs as she went through the worst agony of her life. But she had to admit, it had eased her slightly. And she wished she had perceived those very smells until the change happened.

She also wished for the longest time that Carlisle had never saved her. What he did felt more like pity rather than a moment of salvation –she did not want to be saved. When he took her in his arms she wasn’t thankful, she was tired. If she’d had the ability to speak, she would have begged him to end it. Rosalie would have used every last breath she had to beacon death quicker than it was coming.

Instead, he saved her in the worst way possible. He submitted her to a life where she would never have anything she desired. She would have her beauty, and she would have a sort of family, but she would never have something that was truly hers. But nothing that was hers. Nothing that was just hers.

At least there was one thing that the imposed immortality had brought her. She was strong. Stronger than all those men the night before. She could feel it. The solidness of her skin, the strain in her muscles, the itching in her limbs for speed. It was supernatural strength. An unlimited source of unimaginable power.

A vampire. That was what they had told her she was now and she knew it was the truth. The burning in her throat yearned for only one thing and none of the people in the room she had woken in had it running through their veins. She craved the crimson liquid as though it was the sweetest nectar in the world and it was the only thing to satiate the deep void in her stomach.

But that hunger was nothing compared to the appetite she had for revenge. For the craving she had developed to have the same men that had made her tremble in her sacred body to quiver in theirs. She wanted them to beg her for their lives, to know what it feels for their lives to be in the hands of someone that could not give two shits about them. She wanted them to plead until their voices were hoarse. Until they were so scared that she could hear their skeletons rattle inside their bodies. She wanted them to pray to their god for their lives and then she would take them with her own hands. Her eyes would watch as their souls left their bodies, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

She could have answered Carlisle Cullen at that moment. When he had asked her if she wanted to join their family, she knew the answer was yes. Not because they were the perfect choice, but because it was the only one she had. Rosalie didn’t want to be alone and the Cullens were offering her companionship. She would say yes, eventually. First, she had something to do. So, she asked them for a couple of days to set her head in order.

Rosalie waited until the sun had set and dressed up for the occasion. She styled herself in perfect curls and demure makeup. She was dressed in tailored clothes and high heels. At the end of the day, she was still Rosalie Hale and those men would know exactly who it was that would take their lives.

The first two were easy to find. Buck and Andre Hubert, brothers that still lived under the same roof. With her newfound strength and speed, she slipped into their house without making a single sound. One thing she knew was every party and social appearance the rich people of Rochester, New York had to attend. She knew who would be where and when. And it just so happened that Mr. and Mrs. Hubert would be out all night.

She wanted to go play with their minds first. Start building that nest of fear deep in their chest as they had done to her. To laugh as they questioned if they were losing their minds.

The brothers were in the drawing room. Maybe reading, maybe drinking. Definitely drinking. It made her smile. Her legs took her to the table in their foyer, slamming a vase she had admired for years against the wall.

“Who goes there?” Buck called out from the room to be met with the crackling of the fireplace in response. “I’ll let you know that I have a gun.”

Rosalie remained quiet, instead making noise by slamming a framed picture of the brothers to the floor. She stared as the frame splintered around her and the glass bounced off her impenetrable skin. Bring your gun, she wanted to say, there’s nothing you can do to hurt me now.

But she kept her silence. She wanted to draw both of them out, not just their guns. Their bodies would be the first warming call to the other three men. So, she broke more things, until the room was filled with splintered wood, glass, and roses. How she detested roses now.

“What the fuck is going on, Buck?” Andre said, his voice shaking slightly. “Who’s there?”

“I don’t know, man,” he sighed in frustration. “I’ll go check.”

No. It had to be both of them. She called out, “Why don’t you both come to check?”

“No way,” she heard one of them whisper, not really caring which one.

They walked out slowly, each sporting a rifle in their arms. They stood tall, their eyes trained on hers, trying to appear courageous. But she knew they weren’t. She could hear their hearts racing, she could see the beads of sweat forming on their forehead, she could smell their desperation.

“Rosalie Hale,” Buck said. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprised to see me, boys?” She smiled sweetly and she could see the way it made them shiver. “I just thought I would pay you a visit after last night. You left without so much as a goodbye.”

“No, but you… you were…” Andre stammered. He was so young and it showed. His brother towered over him and he was shaking in inexperience.

“What’s wrong, Andre?” she feigned worry. She had also been so young and they had not cared. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You died last night,” Buck interjected in big brother fashion. “We left you on the street and you were dead.”

“Correct!” Rosalie clapped in fake excitement. “You did leave me on the street, but I wasn’t dead. No. I suffered for hours waiting to die. But alas, death arrived in a different way.”

She took steps toward them, closing the distance of the large entryway. Her movement made Buck fire his gun, the bullet flying right by her ear. It was so close she could hear the whistle of the shot as it passed her.

“Careful, Buck,” she reprimanded. “You can’t kill something that’s already dead.”

“W-what?”

“I know, it’s practically unbelievable,” she chuckled. “Death becomes me, doesn’t it?”

Rosalie was so close now that it would only take four steps for her to be nose-to-nose with them. Her appearance was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open front door, every feature now unmistakable to the men in front of her.

As they looked into her eyes, they couldn’t help the scream that bubbled from their throats. It was at that moment that they knew their guns would be useless against the intruder. She was definitely not human anymore.

Buck shot at her stomach, watching in astonishment as the bullets ricocheted against her rather than fly through her. On the other hand, Andre decided to take off in a run. Rosalie could only laugh. Her beautiful voice made their veins run cold, fear grasping them by the throats.

The blonde took Buck’s gun in her hand, bending the barrel until no more bullets could move through, and grabbed him by his throat, walking toward Andre. She dragged the man's body with one hand, smiling as he tried to claw free, twisting and turning in her grasp. In a couple of seconds, she was behind the younger Hubert. With the damaged gun, she shattered his right leg, smiling as he yelled in pain.

“Please, please,” Andre cried. Tears and snot mixed on his face, the mask of pure desperation sliding onto him. “Just let us go. We’re sorry, Rosalie. We were just having some fun. It should have never gotten to that point.”

“Oh, then, please. Tell me when I was having fun?” Rosalie said. She had dropped both brothers on the floor, one right next to the other, kneeling. “Was it when I begged you all to stop? Was it when my body had been assaulted to the point where I could not even move a finger? Or maybe it was when you were telling Royce he had to start looking for a new wife since I was dead? I would love to know what was fun about any of that.”

“It wasn’t,” Buck blubbered. “We were wrong, Rosalie. What we did was despicable.”

“It was, wasn’t it? It was the most vile thing you could ever do to a woman –to anyone,” she smiled. “But you still did it. And it cost me my life. Now, it’s gonna cost you yours.”

The brothers let out strings of ‘no, please’s and ‘have mercy, Rosalie’s, and it made the fire inside her burn hotter. The vampire stared at Andre first, the youngest of the two. The one she had gone to school with. The one that was only a couple of months her junior. The boy that had acted like a man and taken everything from her. His cheeks were stained with tears, his eyes red and swollen from crying.

“You could’ve made a woman very happy, Andre,” she smiled. “At least, the boy I knew in school would have. You, as you are now, don’t deserve the dirt on my shoes.”

“I’m so sorry, Rosalie,” he sobbed. The attractive boy she had known had been battered to a sorry excuse for a human, and she reveled in it. “Please, just let me go. I promise I’ll never do it again.”

“You’re right. You won’t do it again,” she said, wrapping her hands around his neck. “Save your sorry for your god, Andre.”

And she snapped his neck, watching as his body slumped to the floor.

Beside him, Buck let out a guttural scream. A completely broken and full of agony wail. Music to her ears. “Does it hurt, Buck?” she said. “To see the body of the little brother you had sworn to protect, lifeless and beaten? Does it hurt that there was absolutely nothing you could have done to save his life?”

When he kept quiet, only responding in whimpers and whines, she took his left arm and broke it under her grip. “Answer me,” she seethed. “How bad does it hurt.”

“It’s the worst pain imaginable,” he yelled out. “I should have saved him. Saved him from you!”

“No, Buck,” she tsked. “You should have saved him from you. From the wickedness of your mind and your actions. Your brother? Your baby brother is dead because of you. And you can let him know when you join him.”

Her pale hands wrapped around his throat once more, her eyes observing as the fight left his body. With his only hand, he tried to claw at her skin, to sink his nails into her in an attempt to free himself, but it was futile. He couldn��t even squeeze her.

She stared into his eyes, the way they pleaded, and she committed them to memory. And she wondered. She wondered if they had looked into her eyes, would they have shown her mercy? Would they have at least let her live to see another day? The fact was that they hadn’t and she would not dwell on them. On these men that were barely human.

Rosalie squeezed until Buck’s hand fell to his side and his heart stopped beating. She squeezed until there was nothing left in his eyes but the colored irises. She squeezed until she was satisfied. Once she was done, she let his body fall to the floor, slumping against his brother. They were a masterpiece before her. Dead without shedding a single drop of blood.

She called the police after, claiming to be a neighbor that heard a ruckus in the Hubert house and she watched from the shadows as the scene unveiled before her. The Huber parents arrived before the police, though they weren’t far behind. Mrs. Hubert let out a heart wrenching wail, calling for her boys as she collapsed in her husband’s arms. And, instead of feeling guilty, she wondered how her own parents would have reacted to finding her body.

Would her mother shriek? Would her father turn heaven and hell until he found the culprit? Would he yell at the policemen to do their job and find the bastard that did such a violent act as Mr. Hubert? Those were answers she would never get. There was no body for her parents to find, no crime to be reported. Not anymore.

The girl remained at the scene for only a moment more, waiting until the front of the estate was flooded with neighbors and people from deep in the town surely woken from the commotion. She waited until everyone’s attention was on the Hubert brothers and none would be on the people farther away. Especially people staying at hotels in the town center.

There were two men down on her list. Three more to go. And she would not give them even a second to escape. Their karma was coming for them in the shape of a beautiful vampire.

Next ->

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lets-break-free-from-our-chains · 10 months

Text

Always and Forever My Truest: Chapter 2

(A/N): Hey everyone! Surprised myself with writing chapter 2 so quickly, but after writing the first chapter I think I really got my mood back for the series. By the looks of it I think it’ll really start kicking off in chapter 3 or so. I hope you guys like chapter 2! Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist, and thank you for all the support on my writing!

Word Count: 1,300-ish

Summary: Anniversary planning is never easy, especially when it’s your 453rd anniversary. Now the reader must be the one to deal with annoying Alexanders and the new information about a long lost Alexander female was just be brought to light.

Warnings: dub-con, forced marriage, polygamy, possible Stockholm syndrome?, obsessive/possessive behavior, Yandere-ish Walter de Ville, dom/sub relationship, abuse of power, threats—warnings to be added. Let me know if I missed anything.

18+ MINORS DNI!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! I DON’T NEED TO GET IN TROUBLE BECAUSE YOU’RE A MINOR READING STUFF YOU KNOW VERY WELL YOU SHOULD NOT BE READING!!! THANX

Disclaimers: I do not own The Invitation or any of the characters within the movie. You know what is and isn’t mine.

Walter de Ville x Wife!Reader

~Present day in 2022~

~(Y/N) P.O.V~

Roses. Traditional and elegant, but so unoriginal. Possibly the bleeding heart flower? The master would certain find that choice amusing. Then again, there is Cherry Blossoms. Representing renewal, which is befitting given the celebration.

‘Oh, but we had those for our 342nd Anniversary!’ I thought in frustration, huffing out a sigh. ‘Where is the creativity. The awe factor!’

The event coordinator must have sensed my rapidly rising irritation, as I shuffled through the damn flower books, and she scrambled to suggest more flower ideas. “There is always Locus flowers, Lady De Ville! They would certainly make a statement and the setting—”

“No.” I stated, indifference overcoming my composure. “No, I just don’t understand I suppose. You’ve had days and days to prepare and nothing you have shown me has yet to impress me in the slightest. Perhaps, I was wrong in believing you fit for the task…”

I stare her down as she struggles to find words in her defense. It was amusing in a way. Despite how I am in the presence of my husband, I cast off an entirely different persona in the presence of the public. A persona to rival that of the master. It’s certainly an entertaining sight for my Lord Love to watch as I interact with people. My mother always said, “who we are and who we have to be, are sometimes to completely different things.”

‘Words that I live by to this day.’ I mused to myself.

The coordinator still has yet to find solid footing and I grow tired of her incompetence. I close my eyes in disappointment and turn to leave the gardens before an innocent voice cuts through the air.

“Wait (Y/N/N)! Look at these flowers, Jade Vines.” Lucy called out, turning to me with a picture of turquoise blue flowers. ‘They certainly were stunning and most of all unconventional’ I pondered. I beckon her closer and she came bounding over, blonde curls bouncing softly with her every movement.

I hear the coordinator finally find her irksome voice, “Yes, Jade Vines would be an excellent choice! They are exotic flowers from the Philippines and considered one of the world’s most rare flowers, if not the rarest.”

I drown out her voice as a study the picture before I cast my gaze up to Lucy’s anticipated facial expression. I finally smile as I speak, “Yes, the Jade Vines would be perfect!” Lucy lets out an excited squeak. “Well done, Lucy.”

I bestow a soft endearing look to her as her face lights up at the praise and she bounces in her place. Viktoria can be so impatient with Lucy, bossing her about, and sometimes being just downright cruel. When Viktoria isn’t bullying her she simply ignores Lucy as if she isn’t even there. It saddens me to think that Lucy believes that no one cares for what she has to say. I do though, and I gladly listen her rambling. It’s nostalgic in a way as it reminds me of a younger me. A human me.

“Perhaps, I should place Lucy in charge of my anniversary event.” I glare at the other woman, who once again finds herself lost for words. “Don’t disappoint me again.” Which she vehemently nods in fear.

With that I swiftly turn and depart from the gardens. I’m almost inside when Renfield stops me on the spacious patio. He bows before rising to speak, “My deepest apologies for disturbing your planning, Lady De Ville. However, Oliver Alexander made an unannounced visit with what he claims is urgent news.”

I give Renfield an inquisitive and uncertain look before I fall back into my normal façade, “and tell me, why is this not being brought forth to the master?” I inquire, with a condescending head tilt.

“He has several important meetings lined up today, Mistress. Forgive me, I tried to send him away to return on a better day, but he insisted if he could not see the Master then he wished to speak to the Mistress.”

I heavily sighed before making my way towards my personal library. “Very well. Send him to my study in 10 minutes.”

“Certainly, Lady De Ville.” Renfield bowed, despite my turned back, and departed to collect Oliver Alexander.”

~(Y/N)’s Library~

I read over a few business project proposals and bank statements for some of the Castellan companies, before a steady knock sounds from the library doors. My golden hued eyes slowly trail over to the doors in disinterest. “Come in.”

Renfield swiftly opens the doors and makes way for Oliver. I internally roll my eyes, as Oliver gives me a dopey smile and bows in respect. He has always been a weasel and he truly had no favor with me at all. That’s why Walter tended to deal with him, so as not to upset me in any way. Speaking of which I didn’t need this boy here a moment longer than necessary.

“I hope your news is as urgent as you claim it to be, Oliver. You know I have little patience for those who waste my time.” My golden irises sharpen in a dangerous manner, to which the boy begins to squirm under.

“Yes of course, Lady De Ville. I wouldn’t dare dream of it. Though it truly is a marvelous occurrence and—”

“Out with it, Alexander!” I hissed, feeling my teeth elongate.

“We have discovered a female of the Alexander bloodline. Evie Alexander.” He fearfully blurted out.

This was quite a discovery. A very important one. All the bloodlines were bound in ancient magic to my Lord Love and the bloodlines worked together like a well oiled machine to insure prosperity and protection. Perhaps before the master and I were married, the prospect of offering a bride to the master held meaning, but that was no longer the case. At least not since he and I were wed and had became one. Now it was about keeping the bloodlines in line and doing our bidding under the illusion that their daughters held value. In truth, now all the families really did was help keep our identities and true nature from the light of truth. The brides from the other three bloodlines were really just incentive for the other bloodlines to behave and not induce the ire of my Lord Love.

With this new leverage over the Alexanders, we would be sure to have them under thumb once more. The only questionable matter is whether this girl was actually of the Alexander bloodline. I slowly stood from desk chair before leisurely gliding over to where Oliver stood.

“How exactly are you sure this so called long lost relative is truly of the Alexander bloodlines?” I asked, sweet sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“It was discovered through a DNA testing company that helps you discover people related to you.” He said, in excitement.

I nod as he finished speaking and waited on bated breath for my response, “Well, this is certainly a discovery. However, more research must be done into this girl. The Master must know as soon as possible, and I will be the one to inform him. Have you contacted this Evie?”

He shook his head and I nodded my approval. “Good. Make sure it remains so until I speak with my husband and he has decided what to do next. Only then will we commence with any plans.”

He gave me another idiotic smile and I gave a silent huff as I glared at him. “We shall be in touch very soon. You are dismissed.”

He bowed and quickly made way for the doors. I spun around to look out the enormous windows as my mind wanders off in thought.

‘Things are about to get a lot more difficult. This Evie was not raised like Viktoria, Lucy, and I. She is a different breed entirely, and certainly not one to be underestimated.’

Taglist: @dd122004dd @omgsuperstarg @crazy4books1 @taetae123094 @lychee02 @liathelioness

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 2 months

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Unconventional Flowers Event - March

Birthday Chrysanthemums ft Yuta

A/N: March prompt for my Unconventional Flowers Event. And a belated happy birthday to Yuta! All images have been credited at the bottom of the post. Hope you like it @sehunaeri.

Rating: E, fluffy

Pairing: Yuta x reader

Word Count: 933

Yuta awakens abruptly, swearing he felt a breeze rush over him only to see the curtains still closed, hazy streaks of sunlight flowing through the window.

He blinks, trying to come back to reality, staring at the white ceiling of his dorm room, before stretching and yawning widely. He sits up, then pauses as he sees a small bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums set on his study table. Curious, he reaches out and pulls a card from between the stems.

Happy birthday Yuta! Yellow for the cutest fellow! Anyway, if you want to find out who sent these, just crack the clues!Clue 1: Where students learn to control cursed energy, seek the first clue underneath the oldest tree in the courtyard.

Yuta feels a slight flush creep into his face as he reads the first line, a grin spreading across his face as he finishes reading the rest of the card. A secret admirer on his birthday?

He quickly gets ready for the day and heads out of his dorm, card in hand. This was a relatively easy clue, and as he walked into the main courtyard, his eyes quickly scanned the ancient tree that was rumored to have been the focal point around which the high school was built. The enormous oak tree stood proudly, its trunk thick and knotted, branches spreading out to form a lush canopy. Wandering in circles around the tree, he spied another brightly colored chrysanthemum, orange this time, tucked away neatly in one of the high branches. Yuta pauses for a second, looking around to see if anything could help him reach the tall branch but nothing is within sight.

He sighs. He’s never been much of a tree climber but here goes nothing…He hesitantly hops to grab one of the lower branches and pull himself up. He’s never gotten over his fear of heights and keeps his eyes trained upwards, focusing on the little bloom following branch after branch, until he reaches out a slightly shaky hand to grab it.

“Well whoever it is can climb trees…good to know…” he mutters to himself as he balances himself on the branches and quickly reads the second clue.

Clue 2: Amongst the relics of the past, search for the classroom where disasters were forecast.

Yuta carefully puts the flower and the note into his pocket and awkwardly shimmies down the tree, feet uncertainly probing the space below him for assurance of a branch until he’s safely back on the ground. He peruses the note again.

“Disasters were forecast…in the past…” He remembers the past year and the events of the Night Parade…Didn’t Gojo collect them all in a classroom to inform them what to expect before sending them off?

He finds the classroom and enters it, feeling an odd wave of nostalgia overtake him. Had it really been more than a year ago that he’d stood in this classroom, scared, unable to let go of Rika, and doubting his sorcerer abilities? He finds himself marveling at his own growth as he wanders around the empty classroom, running a finger over the desks as he walks. It doesn’t take him long to find a pink flower hidden away in one of the desks and the accompanying clue.

Clue 3: Beneath the celestial glow, find the place where the protection barriers flow.

Yuta ponders on the clue. The obvious answer here would be Tengen’s barrier but to access that…

It takes him a good while to find the entrance, and it’s well past noon when he does. When he finally gets to the elevator, he’s surprised and relieved to find the next chrysanthemum taped to the corner, violet this time. Despite his enthusiasm to get to the end, hunger was chipping away at his interest.

Clue 4: So close to the end, go to the place where people meet their friends

Strong instinct tells him it’s going to be near the vending machines and he hopes he’s right as he trudges towards them, the walk quite long from Tengen’s elevator. As he approaches them, the shade from the building soothing after walking in the sun, he sees a red chrysanthemum stuck to the side of one of the vending machines. He takes it, and reads the final note.

Turn around.

Your presence is quietly announced as he turns around, his eyes glittering as he finally sees who it is.

“Y/n!”

You smile at his slightly disheveled appearance from running around all day. “Yeah. Me. I hope you didn’t mind the little treasure hunt I orchestrated.”

He approaches you, a smile breaking out on his own face, the red chrysanthemum in hand.

“I take it you kept all the flowers?”

“Yes, of course!’ Yuta fiddles in his pockets to pull out the rest of the blooms.

“Well, let me explain then.” You tap each flower as you speak. “Yellow for happiness, and I hope you always have it. Orange for excitement because I hope your life is never boring. Pink for friendship, because you deserve people who support you. Violet for thoughtfulness because you are so considerate to those around you.”

You pause as you touch the red one. “And red for love.” You look into his eyes, blushing slightly but determined to get your point across. “Because I have feelings for you.”

Yuta’s face mimics yours, blushing crimson, and he chuckles softly. “Wow y/n. I’ve never had anyone confess to me before.”

“Happy birthday,” you say softly. He responds by pulling you into a hug, and you embrace him back, knowing this was the start of something special.

all dividers by @/ cafekitsune

Yuta icon from @/ icrevert

#yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu fluff #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu x y/n #unconventional flowers event #vee writes #yuta okkotsu jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk yuta #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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primoredial-jade · 2 years

Text

in this moment

“ what a privilege it is to love, a great honor to hold you up. “

prompt: you find something that xiao intended to give to you at a later time.

pairing: xiao x gn!reader

type: comfort / fluff

wc: 2229

cw: significance of gift explained in footnotes, spoilers of 2.7 archon quest “hidden dreams in the depths,” xiao is put on the spot, reader is alluded to having hair, coming to terms with emotions, established relationship, unconventional proposal

xiao didn’t often have time for reprieve– time to really sit back and take in the wonderful scenery that was liyue. not without the deafening buzz whispering in his ears for hours upon hours that was his karmic debt, anyway.

tonight, they were quiet. the darkness wasn’t clouding his peripherals and not a sound but his gentle breaths carried through the wind.

xiao let out an involuntary sigh he hadn’t known he was holding, raising up a knee to rest his arm over it. he watched the clouds from sunset slowly fade to purple, the speckled stars creeping its way into the night. they glittered and winked at him, and sitting here right this moment, it was almost as if he had fallen back in time…

a time where every decision he made was one between life and death in the heat of battle, where every single second mattered. back to back with his comrades, spear in hand and the reek of death surrounding them. victory was near, they just had to hold out for just a bit longer…

…it felt so long ago– it was long ago.

these thoughts used to make him feel angst and anger, antsy to pick up his weapon and seek out demons to eradicate. but, after all the events that transpired within the chasm’s bed, xiao had found himself to be more at peace with the past– and in anticipation for his future.

morax did not give him a second chance at life for nothing. xiao had more to live for, more to look forward to.

more love to give.

xiao was so deep into his daydream that his eyes were beginning to droop, body slowly becoming limp. exhaustion was never something a mighty yaksha liked to openly display, but he was vulnerable tonight. his ears barely registered the light chuckle beside him, a warm hand gently placed atop his own.

your head leaned to gently rest on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing your eyes to look at the same view that he was just a moment ago.

“if you fall asleep here, i can’t guarantee i’ll be able to bring you to bed safely, you know,” you whisper, snuggling yourself closer to him.

even with his eyes now closed, xiao could hear the smile in your voice. he squeezed your hand for just a moment, positioning his body so that you were more comfortable.

“yaksha do not require sleep,” he protests quietly, leaning his head to lay against yours. it was nice to bask in each other’s presence like this, with the pretty stars to keep you company.

you hum teasingly, unable to resist the urge of bringing your conjoined hands up, laying a kiss on his. his eyes open at that, face soft. “whatever you say, xiao.”

he turns his head ever so slightly to brush his lips over your head, your sweet smell surrounding him with warmth. a gesture that is most definitely welcomed and appreciated by you.

it had taken a long time for xiao to get to this level of intimacy in your relationship. you were no stranger to having patience and unbridled love for him. while you never doubted his own love for you, something noticeably changed after the events in the chasm. he was lighter on his feet, took the time to appreciate the flowers and birds.

…held you for longer. seeked you out more often. kissed you like you are his entire world.

(you are.)

“we should take a little vacation somewhere. in liyue, of course,” you make sure to add at his pointed stare– he was contracted to protect this nation after all, “maybe to the harbor? or to minli? qiongji estuary?”

you let out an exasperated sigh at his blank expression. unable to help yourself, you raised your free hand to poke his cheek. “when’s the last time you’ve had a break, xiao? i think now might be a greater time than ever.”

you weren’t exactly wrong. for years, xiao resided in wangshu inn, waiting for the wind to carry his name lest someone was in need of his help. and if he was not, then he would be slaying demons during the night. a protector was his duty, first and foremost. before he met you, he didn’t know if he had any purpose if that title were to be stripped away from him.

“i…” he pauses, meeting your expectant gaze. he can’t help crumbling under your stare, your eyes that he had come to love so much. “i’ll think about it,” he settles on instead.

you smile, leaning up to give a chaste kiss to his cheek. “thank you,” you say quietly, and when you pull away, you don’t miss the flustered expression on his face before he’s turning away from you.

“of course.”

an easy, comfortable silence washes over the two of you. lost in his thoughts, xiao averts his gaze back up to the night sky. all of the stars are truly beginning to make their appearance now, and he even thinks he can pick out your favorite constellation– coincidentally very close to the alatus nemeseos, his assigned constellation. this revelation brings a subdued smile to his face.

he’s just about to point it out to you, but a huff that escapes your mouth takes his attention instead. you’re suddenly pulling away from him, and he flounders for a moment before sitting up straighter, looking at you in confusion. you look uncharacteristically nervous, and it sets him on edge.

“i need to ask you something…”

xiao tenses up, running through scenarios in his head. your serious tone is not doing anything to quell his nerves, and a frown makes it way to his face as a result. he suddenly misses the comforting warmth of your fingers in his. “what is it?”

he watches you drop your gaze to your lap before letting out an uncertain sigh, fingertips brushing his arm to appease him. it does, just a little, before he’s tensing up again at you reaching into your traveling bag and pulling an object out, showing him what it was.

xiao’s heart completely stops.

what was in your hand was quite literally the last thing he would ever expect to see in your possession. he uncharacteristically sputters, reeling. he was absolutely positive he had kept it hidden away in a box underneath his makeshift bed verr goldet had so kindly procured for him, which he didn’t use. the collar of his shirt felt tight, and he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

his mouth was dry as his eyes shockingly met your own, and all that he could muster was a choked, “how did you…?”

in your hands laid a beautiful jade comb, decorated with ornate golden designs and small pieces of cor lapis dotted the teeth. on its hilt was a protective seal that was distinctive only to him– a clear indication that this comb was blessed from the almighty yaksha.

this was the same comb he had procured the materials himself to make, the same comb he had held in his hands countless times in the last few months, the same comb he had stared at– wondering how exactly he would give a gift with so much meaning and sentiment to a person he had come to cherish with his whole heart and soul.

yet, here it was, in the hands of the person it was intended for… without his own volition. it mocked him, laughing boisterously at him for his inability to muster up the courage to just do it. if he did, maybe it wouldn’t be sitting on your lap as he gave you a helpless expression, at a loss.

“how did you find this?” he asks, brows furrowed. he still feels like this is a dream, watching the way you gently caress it with your hands.

you gauge his reaction, letting out a quiet sigh of relief that he doesn’t seem angry. far from it, actually.

“i’m sorry for putting this all on you right now xiao, i really, really am. please forgive me,” you begin, gently placing the comb on the mat you were sitting on before laying your hand atop his once more. xiao shakes his head, urging you to continue.

your brows knit together, trying to get your story straight without putting too much fire on anyone.

“well, ah… hu tao happened upon blacksmith master zhang making it. i guess, she saw this,” you tapped his distinctive protective seal, “and decided to pry. remember when i went out to tea with her and mr. zhongli a few weeks ago?”

he does remember. you had come to wangshu inn that night in much happier spirits, kissing his cheeks more than usual and staring absentmindedly at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. he was flustered, of course, but didn’t think too much of it, and let you do as you pleased.

“she kind of spilled the secret when you came up into the conversation…” you continued, a smile making it way to your face, “i didn’t know if she was joking or whatever sort of shenanigans she was pulling this time. but, i went looking regardless, not really expecting to find anything. alas,” you gesture to the comb, and the night sky reflected off of its glossy surface, “i found this beauty here.”

your eyes were bright, studying your lover’s face. he let out a breath, and if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed the way he leaned ever so slightly into you. it made your smile widen.

“i do not know whether to feel anger or remorse for that human’s loose tongue,” he admits in a low grumble, and you cannot help the light laugh as you bring your forehead to rest against his.

“none of that. she really did feel bad about it right when the words left her mouth, and apologized for days afterward. mr. zhongli almost convinced me that i heard it all wrong,” you click your tongue at the memory. that man sure was persuasive.

“and, anyway… who knows how much longer you would have waited if she hadn’t?” you give him a knowing look, and he shies away almost instantly.

you weren’t off. it could have been weeks… months… or even years before xiao would have come to the point of mustering his courage to give this comb to you. he was sure of his feelings for you, and of yours to him– but the timing never felt right.

somehow, looking into your eyes, in this moment, right now does.

“i–…” xiao stutters out, embarrassed. he’s shrinking in on himself, clutching your hands tightly. you’re patient, allowing him to gather his bearings.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, giving his nose a gentle peck. “take your time.”

xiao lets a few moments pass, collecting his thoughts. not like he had a grandiose event planned for this moment, but he still felt like he owed you a speech of some sorts– an explanation.

but… none of that mattered to you. you already knew the significance and intentions behind this gift. him admitting to it was already enough.

“you must not be having second thoughts?” you ask teasingly, chuckling at his baffled expression.

the reality of what was happening came crashing down at him all at once. he realized you were still waiting for a response, patient as you always were.

“second thoughts? no, of course not,” he answers, shutting his eyes briefly before letting a small, wistful smile grace his face.

“you would really… want to spend the rest of your life with me?” he asks quietly, pulling away to look at you in full.

“yes,” you answer, easy.

xiao has to get over the sudden, inexplicable warmth that floods his body. his hands are working on their own, trembling to pick up the comb that laid on the mat. you watch with bemusement as he thumbs over the protective seal, calming his nerves.

ignoring the way his chest tightened or the way the blood was pounding in his ears, xiao formally offered the comb to you, head slightly bowed.

“will you…” he begins, but the words get caught in his throat.

at the stillness that overtook the atmosphere, you took a hand to bring his chin up, level with your face once again. he’s so pretty, you can’t help but think, as his eyes slowly raise to meet your own. as if on autopilot, he places the comb in your palm, enclosing both his and yours around it. a promise.

“i will, xiao.”

your voice breaks him out his haze, and he has barely a second to blink before you’re throwing your arms around his shoulders, embracing him tightly.

in the beginning of your relationship, his arms would have stayed limp at his side in muted shock. now, it takes him less than a second to wrap his arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“i love you,” you murmur in his hair, and it carries through the wind like a gentle breeze, making him feel afloat. “more than anything, xiao. anything.”

from your shoulder, xiao’s eyes avert back to the starry night sky. your constellation, and his, are shining brighter than they ever have. it brings a wave of foreign tears to his eyes, and he feels so happy, so full of love. for you, for the rest of your lives.

“me, too.”

* there is a Chinese idiom, “(白头偕老) Bai tou xie lao,” meaning the happy couple will be together until their hair turns white. Giving a comb to a loved one is a romantic promise which means, “I want to be with you until we get old together.”

#xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #2.7 archon quest #xiao #xiao fluff #genshin fluff #xiao scenario #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #xiao proposal #genshin impact #reader insert #xiao | primoredial-jade

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