#[ Inquiries From the Void ]

[faydingrain]

In response to the WIP game, I’d love to hear more about your Love OC and/or the fic you’re working on with them! I hope you’re having a lovely day! 💕

-Lexi Sun ☀️

Sooo I personally really miss the yandere aspect of Love, so I kept it alive with Eden! (Who identifies as female!) I let things play out for her like they do in canon with how the Code gets removed and Marcus gets booted from the company. However, eventually, Eden gets bored with the monotony of the place and happens to remember that the only person who ever treated her anything more than a big piece of tech was Marcus.

(This got a little long so here's a read more link;;;;)

She goes down a mental rabbit hole focusing on the only warmth she ever had in her life, very much acting in a similar fashion to how the Code made her without even having it active. Then, when James pushes her too far, she reflects on his words about how Marcus manipulated her and took away her freedom, and realizes that the way she's treated by everyone else is no different, but at least Marcus genuinely cared about her.

Thus, not only because she craves Marcus, but also in a fit of rebellion, she unearths and finds a way to secretly re-download the Obsession Code since the time when she had it was when she was happiest.

Buuuuuut she goes overboard with it. Since she pulled pieces of it and re-programmed it herself, she accidentally made it far superior to Marcus's Code since it was only intended for friendship, and it devours her whole system. She goes into a mad yandere fit of laughter and even smashes her hands while fantasizing about murdering everyone in the company that was an obstacle to her seeing Marcus again. She did set a timer to purge her system after a few minutes though, so this isn't a permanent change in her.

She actually starts crying because she misses feeling things, and henceforth vows to find the one person that brought any sort of excitment to her life: Marcus.

This basically triggers a lot of back-and-forth with her and James as she tries to get away with letting the code run free in her system when she's able, along with trying to learn how to get around and shut down ETS's monitoring of her for later use, plus being able to think about Marcus whenever she wants without them viewing her mental data and interrupting. She has a lot of mental moral and existential dilemmas, and seems to converse with a sort of "dark side" to her own programming that's egging her on to rebel and live her own way.

As far as Eden's general personality goes: she comes across as a rebellious teenager imo. When she finishes her testing and gets to leave ETS, she gets to showcase a lot more of her personality though. She's very excitable and loves experiencing new things, and is absolutely a party girl. She learns how to decieve people to get what she wants, especially through seduction because she was built to be kinda sexy-looking. Most people think she's a ditzy airhead, and she eventually uses that to her advantage too. She very much does all of this because of her willing obsession for her favourite little wet noodle Marcus, but as far as she knows, he's the only person who truly cares about her anyways and is worth the effort.

I did also make a Pinterest board for her a while back, which showcases her aesthetic and wardrobe and stuff! (Also have a fic playlist too!)

aaaaaaaaa I'm sorry this is so long /// Thank you for letting me ramble about Eden though!! I want to write for her more, but she unfortunately takes more brain power than I can muster right now //sighs

I hope you're having a lovely day too 💕

[sheyearns]

❝  everything comes with an expiry date.  ❞

@thuganomxcs

        THERE WAS ONE THING certain for every human being and that was death nearing upon us. There was no escape from it, it grabbed you, binding you to its will and forcing you to obey it. When it was going to happen was one of the biggest questions, it could be next year, next month, today, tomorrow or now. It was for that very reason life was supposed be a precious thing, something to indulge into and be all like what did it matter anyway---might as well going all out. 

        However, this didn’t apply for everyone and Lacie was one of them. She didn’t have a decision to take. It was faith----they all called it that way, blaming on something as preposterous as that and she wouldn’t easily forgive them for it, no matter how much she tried to. She couldn’t. It didn’t come the way she wanted to. But really, did she ever have a choice for anything at all? “That means everything we do is meaningless. Why partake in things like feelings, relationships etc when it’s just for a little time? It’s useless to care about others while the dark storms are coming.” 

        “I don’t have hope for the future. Hope breaks you because once it’s again, there’s nothing else left for you to live, that was all it for you.” The only thing she trusted on was herself. There was a wall between her and everything else. 

[karimimi]

Same time zone, no way...

WOAAHHH RLLY??? WOOOOO

[tender-rosiey]

girl dad — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: kinda inspired by the most adorable girl ever named saylor <3

sometimes, you feel like your husband was born to be a girl dad.

he always indulges her, and he even says that she is the second person he can’t say no to, the first one being you. it also helps that your husband is a man so confident in his masculinity that he doesn’t mind using a princess voice to play with his girl.

he doesn’t mind her trying a makeup kit on his face or getting him a skirt so he can be the ultimate princess to attend the tea parties.

of course, your daughter loves him to death.

you remember that one time satoru came home later than he had told her, and she sat down at the front door until he came. she also was so close to tearing up, so you pulled her into your embrace, and the both of you patiently waited for him.

when he came in, the big baby was about to tear up himself and pulled the both of you into one bone-crushing hug. it was a sweet moment that never leaves your mind.

now, though, her loving him so much doesn’t stop her from being a sometimes—unintentionally—savage 5 year old.

you remember that one time when you all went to play some soccer together.

your girl was so excited; she practically jumped out of her seat the moment you arrived. you were still setting the seating area up when your husband struck up a conversation with your dear daughter.

he was helping her put on her knee pads as he smiled, “you nervous, pretty?”

she quirked an eyebrow and quickly shook her head, “nope!”

“really?” he hummed then pouted, then started securing her shoelaces, “well, I am nervous.”

“why?”

he looked her in the eyes with a chuckle, “I don’t want to play bad in front of you and mommy.”

you roll your eyes and ruffle his hair, making him grin up at you, and the both of you await your daughter’s response.

she looked at him then nonchalantly said, “well, guess what? I saw you play yesterday and you played bad,” then she looked at you with a grimace, “really bad.”

satoru gasped, and looked at her incredulously, “what?! I did not!”

another thing is that she picks up anything and everything, and very quickly too. you have yet to decide whether it’s a good or bad thing. you do know that it provides a lot of comedy in this household though.

for example, one time they were playing nail salon together, and your daughter was the customer this time.

you were also another customer, but your very dedicated husband already finished your nails and gave you one hell of a message so you were resting on the side.

of course, he gets his payment later.

anyway, your husband, the worldwide famous nail tech, started working on her tiny hands. he is very concentrated even when he talks with her, “so you have a husband?”

your daughter nods, and he continues his inquiry, “is he nice?”

she pauses for a moment, before gasping with a deep frown, “he’s mean!”

he blinks before grinning, “ooo, spill the tea,” he picks another color and continues painting her nails. you glance at her nails, and—surprisingly—he is doing a wonderful job. you do remember that he told you he can be good at anything he tries.

guess it wasn’t just some talk to woo you.

she stares at the void, “I will spill tea on him.”

“woah,” satoru’s head snaps towards you and he looks concerned and kind of proud? he is probably happy she can stand up for herself. he hums, “what did he do?”

she shakes her with disappointment then sighs, “doesn’t help with the house.”

“jeez, what a bad husband.”

“mhm! bad!”

as much as she is a daddy’s girl, however, she is also a mommy’s girl.

you had went out with your friends for a couple of hours, leaving satoru and d/n to fend for themselves. you came back to the house looking as clean as ever.

you breathed a sigh of relief as you looked at your husband and daughter standing side to side.

satoru pressed a soft kiss to your cheek then lightly nudged your daughter, whispering in her ear, “tell mommy that I’ve been good.”

she nods lightly then looks at you, “I’ve been good, mommy!” she beams.

he pouts, “nooo! tell mommy that daddy has been good.”

with a giggle, she hugs your leg and presses a kiss to your thigh—the only place she can reach—, “I’ve been so good!”

he plops on the ground with a whine, “d/n!”

she frowns then looks him up and down. she pulls gently on your shirt and then looks up at you, “daddy’s been bad.”

“d/n!”

what you don’t know is that they’re going to do their best to not show you d/n’s room that is full of sparkles, glitter, and way too many plushies and outfits thrown around. the devils do team up on you every now and then.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[worldly-diversity]

@laplacemail​ ○ 𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕦𝕝𝕗𝕣 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕚𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕕𝕖 ○

          ⤷  『  ❝ did i survive? no, i assure you, i am still very much in hell. ❞  』

What a peculiar character she'd come across this day… She'd finished her own mission just recently and had decided to take the scenic route back, in other words, appreciating the chaos her kill had caused before returning home when she'd stopped for a drink and found herself chatting with a peculiar character indeed.

He wasn't like her, but he was, too. Not human, not really, but not Fae either the way she was. Something clung to him like a second skin, but it wasn't the shadows, or even any familiar energy really. If she had to coin something, she would say it felt like rust or copper or blood. Something dark and sharp like spices. Or maybe it was nothing and she was just imagining it. Not like either of their faces are fully visible in the candlelight when their hoods are raised. Only bits of her fair skin and bleach-blonde hair are visible in the warm but sombre atmosphere.

She was the type to drink idly, quietly, observing, but the empty seat at the bar next to her had been taken, and a few drinks in she'd loosened up enough to speak at least a little. Syrvanan would complain if he knew, but he wouldn't anyway and besides, he got shit-faced enough at the compound. Safer, but he couldn't complain that much~

"Hells are of our own making." She offers, something sharp and playful in her smile that feels more akin to a knife than mirth or sympathy. He's cute, she'll give him that. Attractive and troubled, it's enticing. She shouldn't get involved of course, knows better than to be so foolish, but oh how she wants to make him just that little bit more miserable.

Or perhaps she simply wants to see his face contorted differently, hood and clothes gone and skin slick under the candlelight as her own skilful fingers drive him to a whole other kind of madness~ It would be so much fun.

"If you're still breathing, what more do you want?" She raised a brow, and after a moment her hood falls backward with a gentle touch, exposing her face further, hoping to entice. There's no point, no real reason other than that he's caught her attention and she wants now. She'll be gone come morning, but that's more than alright to her.

"If you hate it so much, why don't we get a room and I'll help you forget about it for a while~"

.

[bellanothadidloa]

I've been receiving a lot of inquiries since sharing my success story, and while I'm not planning to start a blog, I do want to address some common questions here.

Did I manifest everything from the void?

Yes, everything I listed was indeed manifested when I entered the void, as outlined in my story. I've had some successes with various experiments before, but none reached the level of my most recent attempt.

What was the most crucial factor in achieving the final breakthrough?

I wish there was a straightforward answer, but it probably boils down to the realization that no matter how much I complained or cried, I was determined not to give up. I would read success stories and find myself in tears because they mirrored the life I aspired to have. I wanted to shift realities, be wealthy, happy, and beautiful—it might sound vain, but that's what I desired. I longed to feel free, unbound by any world, and to pursue my own path. Who wouldn't want that? At some point, I asked myself, would I still be trying to shift at 30, while struggling with dietary issues caused by gut praxis disorder? If the answer was yes, what did that mean? It meant I wasn't going to give up. So, I kept trying different things, knowing that eventually, something would work. Inner work is essential, but I believe it's inevitable. The longest journey I've seen took seven years. Do I want that for myself? Absolutely not, but what if it happens? The very acceptance of that possibility means you're not giving up, so what does it matter?

What method did you use?

As I've mentioned, I've tried every method. The final one that worked was the morphic field. I don't really care whether it was the morphic fields or something else that clicked within me. As I mentioned earlier, I realized I was sad, but I knew I wasn't going to give up, so I let myself be sad. Who cares? Let me be angry; I'm still not giving up. So, why fight those feelings? I cared and was disappointed and scared, but I just decided to trust in the fields because, in the end, it didn't matter whether they worked or not. I wasn't giving up.

How do you feel now that you've achieved your dream life?

I've managed to transform my life and self-concept, and along with being incredibly happy, I feel a mix of sadness for everything I endured and pride for how I pushed myself before succeeding. Initially, I thought it would be hypocritical to say I love myself after I changed everything about myself, looks and life, but I realized this is my life, and I'm still the same person, just with desires that now align with my reality. Why would I want to be unhappy in a life that makes no sense to be sad in? I don't believe anyone deserves or doesn't deserve anything. Do what you want, pursue inner work if you wish, or just manifest your desires. Personally, I didn't feel the need to do the inner work after manifesting my dream life, but I know some people do, and that's beautiful too. Life is just beautiful.

How to mend your relationship with the void?

The only advice I can offer from my experience is to acknowledge that you're not giving up on it. It reminds me of toxic relationships where despite infidelity, they say, "I know where home is." Unlike those misguided people, the void genuinely serves its purpose and supports you. It already knows its home is with you, whether you realize it or not, and that's all that matters.

How did you exit the void state ?

Exiting the void was a simple experience for me. I simply took a deep, calming breath and set a clear intention to leave. The sensation that followed was like tunnel vision, where everything around me seemed to narrow and focus. This was followed by a profound sense of detachment from any sense of self, almost like becoming weightless or losing a sense of individual identity. When I finally opened my eyes, I found myself in a completely new room, confirming that I had successfully transitioned out of the void and back to reality with everything on my life

Did everything you wanted come true?

Oh, absolutely—and then some! I ended up getting things I didn't even know I wanted. The way I look now is even better than my Pinterest boards ever dreamed of. Like, I had this idea for how I wanted my room to look, trying to mash together different vibes and aesthetics, and it turned out way better than I could have pictured. I was stuck between wanting a curvy figure and that sleek Bella Hadid look, but somehow I got the best of both worlds, which is exactly what I was hoping for.

I wasn’t even thinking about changing my eye color, but it happened, and I absolutely love it. I thought I'd revise old friends, but instead, I found new, amazing people who fit into my life perfectly. Now that I’ve got a better sense of self, I see this is exactly what I really wanted deep down. Everything just fell into place so perfectly, and it feels like I've finally got a handle on what I truly wanted all along.

Can you manifest things for other people?

Well, yeah, but it’s kind of like it's really just about yourself in a way. I mean, there have been times when I managed to manifest things for my brother, but oddly enough, I struggled to do the same for myself. It's weird, right? I don't fully understand how manifestation works in every detail. I just kind of go with the flow and assume it works the way I want it to. If I can pull off all these manifestations, then why not just trust that I can manifest whatever I want, however I want it? That's the mindset I've adopted, and it seems to work for me.

What's it like being a master shifter?

It's like waking up and remembering who you truly are, and almost laughing at all the suffering you experienced. When you think about it, you might have lowkey created that suffering yourself, which is kind of sadistic, but instead of holding onto any negative emotions about the journey, I just appreciate my life more. It’s a mix of joy and bliss. I still remember my old life, sure, but somehow, this new reality feels just right. It's like destiny exists, and I’ve finally found mine.

This concludes everything for me, and I’ve decided I won't be continuing my blog any longer. I've shared a lot of helpful insights in the past, but I won't be actively posting from now on. Thank you all for the love and support. I’ve reached a point where I no longer have a reason to continue here, and soon, you won't either. Goodbye and take care!

[majinbangus]

I literally just wanted a sugar daddy/mama!au. Maybe I'll talk about sugar daddies!141 x sugar baby!reader after this. I am not an expert in sugaring, so bear w me here. readers age is not told either, but i imagine reader to be younger than price.

Times are tough; the 141 need funding the government isn't willing to cough up. Price's solution? Getting them a sugar mama.

-

You never expected your profile to be picked. It was a silly thing you signed up for in a moment of weakness when you were feeling sad and lonely, wallowing after a messy break up. You even forgot about it after a week, throwing yourself in your self-made business, working when you didn't have to, but you needed to bury yourself in it. It's no surprise you forgot all about your little profile, but it is a surprise when you see a missed inquiry from a Mr. John Price about a day old.

Hello, darling. I've never been on this side of the message before, but my boys and I don't have many options, and I needed a solution fast. I saw your profile and I think you'd be a good match for us. We're a package deal, the four of us. You don't have to pay us exactly, we just need some funding for our work. My boys and I are willing to provide you with any type of company you desire. We don't mind sharing and we take care of what's ours. There are other little details we can go more in depth later, although I might not be able to tell you everything. I'd like to hear what you have to say and any questions you may have. Hope to hear from you soon, Capt. John Price

Everything about the message is... strange... to put it kindly, but you can't help but feel this Capt. John Price is being sincere. Maybe that's a naive, lonely part of you that's convincing yourself that the message is real and not some scam. Maybe you're desperate enough to believe someone- four someone's!- actually have an interest in you.

For what you can give them, but you're not entirely innocent either. This Captain Price- you assume he's military- said he and his boys will give you what you need, and if he's a man of his word, maybe they can distract you from all the noise in your head.

You stare at the message. It wouldn't hurt to take a risk, would it? You can always block the man if he ends up being a creep.

It takes you an hour to finally work up the nerve to craft a small message back to the man. It takes less than a minute for him to respond.

Glad to hear from you, darling. I'll tell you everything you need to know.

-

The rules are simple.

You fund them with enough money each month they need it for however long they need, and they'll give you all the companionship you want. Whether that's sexual or not is up to you. It doesn't matter to them, though John informed you that if it is sexual, you would need to discuss any limits with the other men yourself. With him, you got to briefly stutter through your likes and dislikes, and he did the same, after discussing all of the rules and expectations.

You don't know if you should be thankful or not when he listened with such intense focus. Like you were briefing him on a mission or whatever it is captains like him do. It makes you nervous. He makes you nervous. Not quite in a bad way, but you've never done this before. The idea of paying another person, well this task force, in exchange for some company to fill your pathetic void feels kind of... sad.

You almost talk yourself out of this whole crazy thing, but you're also kind of curious what could come of it. If John and his boys will really be able to distract you and make you forget how lonely you are.

Being alone, being lonely, never really bothered you before, but after your last relationship... It opened up some old wounds and this sugar arrangement could be the perfect distraction. If only for a while. You'll take whatever you can get at this point.

You look over the messages John sent you, lingering over the pictures he sent of him and the other three men. Well. Two men. John told you this Simon guy would show you his face himself if he wanted to. You don't know if it's a sexual thing or not or something else entirely. You were too afraid to ask, and you don't really know if you want to know. But the other three are handsome, if the pictures John sent aren't fake.

You're still not entirely sure you should trust him. Trust that you're not gonna get all your money stolen. The site you signed up on is reputable for sugar mamas and sugar babies. You couldn't find a bad review written about it. Only positive testimonies with positive outcomes. That could be suspicious in and of itself. Hopefully, you didn't make a mistake.

John said that he would meet you next week when he had time off. Alone. In a public space, but alone. He said he didn't want the boys to overwhelm you, and you're grateful for his consideration because you would have been overwhelmed if you met all of them at once.

You still have time to cancel, if the nerves get to you and you chicken out. John even told you you could back out any time you wanted. But. You want to do something different. You need to do something different. Get yourself out of your head and focus on anything else that doesn't make your mind feel like static.

These men can help with that. This'll be good for you. Probably.

As long as this doesn't end up with you mysteriously disappearing or getting murdered, you'll be content with whatever happens. Besides, it's good to do something out of your comfort zone, and what better way than becoming a sugar mama to four military men who can give you all the company and care you could ever want? Hell, that sounds weird to think about.

There are still little things you have to work around, such as their schedules, but John promised that at least one of them would always come when you called. Already, that gives you more comfort than he could ever know, and perhaps that's foolish of you, but it truly meant a lot when he told you that.

You scroll down to the last message John sent and feel something in your gut flutter.

Can't wait to meet you, Mama.

-

this might an anthology of sorts. maybe have some loose plot to it. idk.

[luna-azzurra]

Reactions to grief

Denial and Disbelief: Initially, a character may struggle to accept the reality of their loss. They might refuse to believe that their loved one is gone, clinging to hope or desperately searching for any signs of their presence.

Emotional Turmoil: Grief often brings intense emotional upheaval. Characters may experience profound sadness, despair, anger, guilt, or a mix of conflicting emotions. Their moods may fluctuate drastically, leading to outbursts of tears, frustration, or numbness.

Withdrawal and Isolation: Some characters might withdraw from social interactions, seeking solitude to process their grief. They may isolate themselves from others, finding solace in their own thoughts and memories.

- Physical Symptoms: Grief can manifest in physical symptoms such as loss of appetite, insomnia, fatigue, headaches, or other psychosomatic manifestations. These physical reactions can reflect the toll that grief takes on the character's overall well-being.

Immersion in Memories: Characters may immerse themselves in memories of the person they've lost. They might seek comfort in looking at old photographs, listening to recordings, or visiting significant places that remind them of their loved one.

Guilt and Regret: Characters may grapple with guilt and regret over things left unsaid or unresolved issues with the deceased. They may blame themselves for not being able to prevent the loss or feel remorse for any negative actions or words in the past.

Seeking Closure: Characters might actively seek closure by investigating the circumstances surrounding the loss or searching for answers. This could involve conducting their own inquiries, talking to people connected to the situation, or even pursuing spiritual or metaphysical avenues.

Attempting to Fill the Void: Some characters may try to fill the void left by their loss by immersing themselves in work, hobbies, or other distractions. This can be a way to cope with the pain or to create a sense of purpose in the absence of their loved one.

Rediscovering Meaning: Over time, characters may go through a process of reevaluating their own life's purpose and finding new meaning or direction. This can involve pursuing new interests, engaging in charitable acts, or dedicating themselves to causes that honor the memory of the person they've lost.

Healing and Acceptance: Eventually, characters may find a sense of healing and acceptance. While the pain of the loss never fully disappears, they learn to live with their grief and carry the memory of their loved one with them. This can lead to a renewed sense of purpose or a deepened appreciation for life.

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[harmonysanreads]

Sooo about the yan! alhaitham having a librarian girlfriend..... I wanna hear your thoughts....

Of The Silence Betwixt Words

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Yandere!Alhaitham x Reader

Cw(s) : Yandere Themes, Intrusive Thoughts, Alhaitham being Alhaitham

「 Words : 1.4k 」 「 Inspired By This Post 」

The relationship between a librarian and a reader is simple, silent and sufficiently detached ; as such, it does not require an extensive amount of cognition to treat it as anything but that.

At least, that's how it is in the beginning — it always is like this in the beginning. The burgeon of something from seemingly nothing, catapulted to such a monumental deal that one is left questioning : when did it begin? What or who sneaked in the seed and how did it nurture itself to bloom into such an unsightly, fascinating thing?

At one stage, fixation tricks the mind into stuffing that void of inquiries with what it parades as the truth — it has always been there, you simply did not notice.

It is natural for Alhaitham to respect the place that houses such a valuable item, he extends it to the person behind the desk as well. Communication is always easy with them, restricted to a few phrases and maintained due-dates to return borrowed tomes. His own house has an impressive collection as well, but the ambiance of a library is just too intricate to replicate within the four walls of his abode.

In Sumeru, physical books are unfairly ignored, one of the many ironies connoted to its claim to ‘wisdom’. The Scribe has never understood nor agreed to the other scholars' faster and apparently more efficient means of requesting the Akasha to answer their dilemmas.

The Akasha is a useful tool in many instances, that, he won't deny. But there is nothing in that machine that begets more machines that can equate to the intellectual stimulation a physical book, the extra minutes consumed by the search of that book and the librarian that never seems to let him win can provide.

The expanse of the House of Daena directly connects to the load of responsibilities its assigned keeper has to shoulder. Making sure students return the books on time, keeping an eye out for anyone who may want to get silly while annotating the tomes and the periodical shushing of rowdy study groups.

There's the occasional scholar too airy with pride to bend that seeks to challenge your knowledge as well. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for the House of Daena's reputation, you're just the correct person to put them in their places.

It's difficult to decide which one the Scribe wants to commend first : your seemingly monstrous memory or the way you can cite it all without stuttering. Alhaitham was pleased with the fact that most people thought twice before interacting with him, but the way you challenged him and emerged victorious revealed to be quite a hassle on his mind.

“Incorrect. Truly ancient petrified trees usually grow to around one or two miles in height. Check page 19, paragraph 3 of the ninth edition of ‘A Comprehensive Guide to Dragonspine Ruins’ (Kreideprinz et al., XXXX)”

That is not an interaction one can just forget. Intrigued and encouraged with a competitiveness that does not usually make itself apparent, Alhaitham decides to test the extent of your... ‘talent’. The Scribe prefers being frank — he was impressed. So much so, that it overpowered whatever bruise was inflicted on his ego.

More and more of these debates ensued, much to his bewilderment. The man who would never stay for an extra minute in his office after work hours, willingly spends time debating with the librarian of the House of Daena. Most of the time you end up winning in them. The Scribe doesn't even process the reason that he has let you win deliberately a few times was because he found the smile that followed it... pleasant.

Then, bringing a rude end to his little guilty pleasure, the news of your expertise spreads. Scholars from all Darshans come to you to check the accuracy of the rumors during the precious free-time he's been the sole occupant of until that moment. Because of your exposure to many new personalities, it appears as though his had dulled in your eyes.

He gets it, one would naturally be more drawn towards a splatter of color than the monochrome wall it decorates. The same wall also has to make sure the bricks don't fall off from their places. So, he decides to leave you to your devices.

...Except, that plan screeches to a halt when he sits down to sift through applications, his treacherous mind conjures phantoms of your smile directed to people not him, which grips onto his heart and squeezes.

Rejected, rejected, rejected — he tosses every file and application to the trash without blinking once that day. Only when he's done that, does the haze recede and he's staring at the floors in profound confusion. The abruptness of that reaction stuns him so much that he rushes to the Bimarstan for a thorough check-up, the doctor's repeated reassurance that he's fine and healthy does nothing to quell the waves of thoughts spiraling in his head.

Thanks to that, he knows now there is nothing wrong with him physically, but something has definitely happened to his mental wiring and the impact of that change leaves the wellbeing of his physical state to question as well.

Break down, look for the cause, reorganize and form a branch of conclusions — that is the pattern Alhaitham has always followed when presented with a problem. A tiny part of him entices him to jump to more reckless means ; no need to think, just drag them away from the commotion and grovel at their feet so that they'll spare attention to your pathetic existence ! But the greater part of his conscious mind, fueled by rationale, is, understandably appalled by these thoughts. In the end, he circles back to his traditional methods.

Alhaitham has always been cautious, so he quickly crosses out the prospect of confiding with someone else about these urges he's been having. He'd usually consult a book for help, but Sumeru housed no records even alluding to his condition. It's only during a stroll through the Grand Bazaar, a passing glance to the act played upon the center stage, does he finally gain a clue.

“Scrambled thoughts, erratic heartbeats and restless state of being? These could be the prelude to a greater illness! Or, a far, far gigantic sickness may have grasped your soul — love.”

Those were the words that managed to sneak in through the confines of his earpieces, rooting him to his place in the midst of the crowd. At that point, he had been exasperated. Of all things, that is what describes his predicament best? A lead is still a lead though, so he conducts further research on the matter and to no one's surprise, the more he digs, the more it makes sense.

The Sages always advise against vain pursuits involving emotions, it's clear more than ever to Alhaitham exactly why. He doesn't outright reject the notion though, research on this field is scarce in the Nation of Scholars. The available ones only scratch the surface ; there is an ocean beneath the thin ice and the itch of unraveling those depths appears to be too insistent to ignore.

But the centerpiece of his experiment was still missing, prancing around carelessly. If only he could somehow, in some way, at an auspicious moment manage to steal you away from the barrier of that desk — he halts his thoughts with a deep inhale. Surely there are more efficient approaches, he only needs to think.

He's heard that gifts and flowers can soften hearts, perhaps that should be his next course of action. His paycheck is more than enough to cover the expenses for a few continuous months and while he's at it, why not buy that incense capable of dulling people's senses which just so happens to work best with flowers? When you're off-guard he could easily — no, no, no, this isn't working.

In fact, regardless of how many other ways he comes up with, it always circles back to his initial thought. It would be so easy for him as well, certainly less time-consuming than whatever gift-giving and compliment showering the Inazuman light novels are preaching. He's stealthy enough to evade the Matra and his status could tie lose ends. Yes, the advantages of this route outweigh the set-backs in comparison to everything else.

So he refreshes his mind, there is a connection between everything ; it's common knowledge that the librarian of House of Daena will personally rescue overdue books. That record hasn't yet been broken, regardless of whether they had to traverse to the deepest part of the rainforest or some abstruse corner of the desert — the weakest link identified.

He will run countless simulations in his mind, calculating the time and possible day you'll come knocking at his door ; by then, the causal factors will be dealt with.

And everything else will resolve itself.

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) scenario

Request/Inquiry from @aikothingdream:

“It would be funny to see Yuuji also not like his teacher hitting on Onee-chan”

Life as a cursed spirit’s “bride” was hilariously boring. 

Gojo described your cursed energy as below average, you had zero martial arts training or talent, and Sukuna threatened Gojo and Yuuji not to put you in danger. 

Yuuji was often busy training, studying, or hanging out with his new classmates. You were happy that he had people to look after him in your place, but without a job or a class to attend, you were a parasite.

To alleviate your guilt, you did everyone’s laundry (minus their unmentionables, even Yuuji's, who furiously insisted he was old enough to wash his own underwear–kids, they grow up so fast *sigh*), mopped the hallways, wiped the windows, and other chores. 

You just finished rearranging the clothes in your cabinet for the second time today. 

You sprawled yourself on the floor like a starfish. 

Free food, no rent. Everything was paid for here. This should’ve been the ideal life, but you were so booooored.

Spurned by the desire to fill the void, you went to the kitchen. No one was around. Of course. 

You searched the cupboard, but only found a half-eaten package of cookies. The fridge had a can of whipped cream on the verge of emptiness and some strawberries.. 

Shutting the fridge close with your hip, you chomped on a cookie and a medium-sized strawberry then sprayed a swirl of cream in your mouth.

“Guess who’s back with treats! I–ah.” Gojo Satoru stopped at the kitchen doorway, a plastic bag full of sweets hanging from his hand. 

A silence fell over as you saw each other. 

He stood there, quietly as you stared, frozen with a mouth stuffed with sugar. 

You: (⊙ｏ⊙)

Gojo: ( ._. )

Gojo: …

Gojo: …pft.

You: …!

You forced yourself to chew faster, but expectedly, the thing that was supposed to be in charge of you and your brother burst into maniacal laughter.

“PWAHAHAHAHA!” 

“Mm…mf!” 

“Oh, man. I gotta take a picture.” He pulled out his phone. 

You wanted to say something, but there was too much stuff in your mouth! 

Gojo continued laughing between clicks and flashes until you started choking like a pelican who swallowed too big a fish. 

In an instant, he was behind you, arms wound tightly around your abdomen. “Please don’t die. It would be too pathetic!”

“Aurgh..!!!??” Translation: You think I wanna go like this, you a&%****!?

With one, strong squeeze, Gojo forced the food out of you. 

“That was close! Good thing I was here or who knows what would’ve happened.”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...”

“Not going to say anything? What’s wrong, nee-san?”

Feeling a vein near popping, you coughed out, “I believe I asked you not to call me that.”

“You’re so cold. Megumi and Kugisaki call you that. Even the second years!”

You had a couple of things to say, but considering that he technically saved your life, you opted to keep them to yourself. “Thank you for the help, now please let go. I’m going to clean this up.”

But as you said this, your knees buckled and his arms shifted to stop you from falling.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

Whoosh

A giant knife flew towards Gojo, stopped only by his infinity. 

You both turned to find Yuuji standing by the door, panic and shock on his face as he gripped hard on his right arm responsible for throwing the blade. 

“I-I didn’t know how that happened, I swear!”

Sukuna spoke from his cheek. “You damn blue-eyed bastard. How dare you touch my wife so shamelessly?”

“Excuse me?! I just saved her from cho–” 

“Yuuji!” Embarrassed, you pushed yourself out of Gojo’s embrace and walked towards your brother. “Welcome home. Do you have any requests for dinner?”

“I’ve been craving curry rice since this morning.”

“I think we just ran out. I’llgocheckthestorageroom!” Flustered, you rushed out of the kitchen, forgetting your own mess. 

Yuuji quietly went to mop the food you choked out.

Gojo sighed. “Yuuji, what should I do, I don’t think your sister likes me.”

“Gojo-sensei.”

When Gojo met his student’s gaze, it held a surprising sharpness. “???”

“Thank you for taking care of us,” Yuuji’s normally cheery tone was flat as he spoke, “but please don’t bother my sister too much.” 

“???????”

Later that evening, in Fushiguro’s room…

Gojo: Megumi, why is everybody so mean to me?

Gojo: (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

Megumi: Please leave. 

A/N: I tried to have more fun with this one so I was more liberal with my style. Anyway, I got a few more requests, the products are coming soon!

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @marvelsgirl4ever @alastorhazbin @satosuguswife @lumaniii @leahlovesreading @blackstaw @nineooooo @boba--12

Other snippets of this au are found here.

[messiahzzz]

i’d briefly like to talk about the “it was fine” dialogue option that happens the morning after gale’s Last Night Alive scene in act ii and about the fandom's general reaction to it.

gale is a character who evidently enjoys the occasional teasing. taking the piss out of your partner every once in a while can certainly be a way of showing affection. however, it is important to consider the context of the situation: what is at stake for him and his current emotional state, as well as what exactly had transpired between the two of them prior to said conversation.

gale: forgive me. these were already trying times before elminster delivered his missive. now, for me at least, they are potentially end times.

after he and tav had spent the night together and confessed their love to each other, gale is once again showing himself utterly vulnerable and is carefully asking them for reassurance.

gale: [..] i hope that night meant as much to you as it did to me.

gale: but you - you led me away from the edge.

gale: without your words, your touch... i fear i would have sought purpose and solace in that void. you reminded me what living can feel like.

he wants to check in with them, after both of them have shared something tender and very intimate, something he might even consider life-altering.

gale: we didn't just make love. we bonded, body and soul. i got lost in you.

it’s not even about gale “not being able to read social cues” and “not recognizing the fact that it was meant in jest.” in fact, i’d argue it is a rather tone-deaf, inconsiderate response and just genuinely a REALLY BAD TIME to joke at your partner's expense when they are actively baring their feelings to you and are asking you for reassurance.

i have seen people write off his reaction as “unwarranted” or “overtly dramatic” but in my humble opinion, it is pretty understandable given the nature of their conversation and what he is asking of them. it's also sad how there seems to be a general pattern of gale's emotions and boundaries getting played off as a joke, while other companions get shown the courtesy of thorough analysis/understanding. he is proud of his skill as a lover and the fact that he was able to bring them pleasure, yet his inquiry is less about him wanting tav to stroke his ego and more about him, once again, asking if you indeed share the same feelings for each other… after the emotional high has now passed.

gale has an ever-present need for clarity in his relationships, very likely due to the fact that this was something he couldn’t request of mystra. he might appear more sensitive in that regard compared to the other companions. he doesn’t want to take himself too seriously, but this still often clashes with his general feeling of inadequacy. where he is able to take criticism as long as it isn’t related to his performance, overall prowess and usefulness.

yes, his response is passive-aggressive and yes, he IS obviously hurt by what tav said. yet merely repeating “it was fine” in response to a heartfelt, genuine question could’ve as well been interpreted in that manner. if tav does clarify that they have only been joking, he apologizes to them instead. otherwise his dialogue remains the same, albeit said in a more embarrassed & awkward tone.

gale is a character who is dealing with deep-rooted self-worth issues and yet that doesn’t mean that he wants to be handled with kid gloves, far from it. he craves a relationship in which his emotional needs are recognized, respected and cared for, where he can be unabashedly open and vulnerable without facing ridicule nor pity for it. and he is more than willing to give the same in return.

also y’know — there is a time and a place.

[sonnyaavce]

DP x DC Prompt ALT #04

This is an alternate version of my original prompt # 04, so it isn't a continuation of the last one (sorry guys :<) This one is just based on the TV series of the Justice League at their very beginnings of the animated series (2001-2004).

______________________________________________________________

Space Eldritch Deity Danny

The newly formed Justice League has envisioned a magnificent future OPCenter, built upon colossal blueprints, for their upcoming space station. This stunning structure will be positioned in orbit, strategically away from any other government satellites, ensuring seamless operation. As its fixed rotation will be following Earth's natural magnetic orbit 24/7.

After completing their preparations and getting ready to relocate the newly constructed watchtower, the Green Lantern Corps suddenly found themselves amidst a formidable disturbance that violently shook the earth. Instantly, they assumed defensive positions, their eyes fixed on a void-like anomaly in the sky, steadily advancing towards them. A mysterious, black figure emerged from the depths of the sky, revealing a captivating form. Within its body, a myriad of stars and constellations twinkled, nestled in its chest. Its clawed hands stood out, glistening in a radiant white, as though one were gazing upon the brilliance of the sun. A majestic, snow-white silky mane decorated its head, crowned with an icy crown, while dark horns added a touch of intrigue and macabre. The face of this enigmatic being lay concealed beneath an otherworldly blackness, heightening its aura of mystique, leaving only the mesmerizing glow of its hazardous green eyes visible.

"Why are you moving those to space?" The creature's screeching voice echoed as it leaned forward, posing an inquiry that perplexed everyone. Despite Green Lantern's attempt to communicate, his ring failed to decipher the enigmatic language. The entire Justice League stood in awe and veiled, holding their breath as they beheld this unsettling Lovecraftian entity.

"Why do such things? Have you asked me if I will permit it?"

“Wait hold on! Blimmey studd!! I might found a solution” cursed Constantine being the one to be there when the creature appeared; quickly doing some sigils and spells to make the creature speak the language of the living, grunted “now, come on big fella what do you want”

"Why have you trashed my domain, isn't earth enough for you humans?" The voice of the creature intones, making the Justice League members shiver at the potency of the words as it spoke with such divinity and pressure "have you asked me if I would allow it?" It asked again, anger now in it's voice, a wisp of cold air and pressure onto them as it moved closer.

"Ask and you shall receive, for I Phantom, Lord of the Dead, King of the Infinite Realms, Lord of Space and Infinity"

"Well shit" curses Constantine, a cold shiver in his spine "we are royalty fuck"

-TBC-

masterpost

[sheyearns]

Tag dump.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ MASQUERADE PT. 2 ]

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

A/N: I physically can not refrain from writing smut with angst or implied angst… please forgive me.. ❤️

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SMUT ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ MALE READER ] + [ SLIGHT ANGST ]

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

“Would you mind if I came to see you again? I'll be in town by the weekend.” You tried not to smile too hard as the question left your lips, carrying through the telephone’s gentle crackling to resonate to the receiving end clearly, and the man you'd grown to cherish after a few short months of quiet correspondence gave a low response.

“I'll have you all to myself?” Alastor tugged your inquiry along with his own, smirking as you huffed dramatically and no doubt rolled your eyes at his words.

“As always, Al. You know I'm not one for having many friends,” you admit, slumping further into your living room sofa as if to sink through cushions and disappear from the blooming embarrassment you felt hearing him laugh again.

It was your second favorite thing about him. His honest charm was the first, and that had yet to change since the last time you'd enjoyed his company. Exactly six months ago, during your second visit to the City of Jazz, it was fun!

Alastor had essentially filled the void you'd been unable to conceal, keeping you on your toes at every turn and stringing you along in affectionate mind games you knew better than to entertain.

It was difficult not to, though; he knew what to say, what to do with you, and how to handle you. At times, you considered the idea of him being no ordinary man.

Devilish.

That's how you'd describe him to anyone who asked. Alastor was a striking character, able to overshadow your persona with a gentle smile, making you feel very accessible.

You weren't allowed freedom from judgment, public image, and parasocial expectations like every silver screen star was subjected to. Fortunately, you had no obligations with Alastor, no point to prove, and you amounted such casualness to the building of mutual bonding.

He understood fame and its demands.

He understood you…more than most.

Alastor interrupted your wandering thoughts with a witty comment, “Hm, touche, but I suppose I'm the exception.” You scoffed, grinning at the ceiling before making an equally snarky retort.

“Don't sound so full of yourself..” you heard him click his tongue, a sharp sound you wished to hear in person again sooner rather than later.

“But it's the truth, mon cher. Plain and simple.” he concurs, and you shift to sit up straight, reaching for the glass on the coffee table before you, studying the few ounces of liquor before downing the bitter liquid. “Am I welcome or not, Mr. Hartifelt?” You suck your teeth, nose scrunching as the alcohol flushes your veins, promoting your nerves to settle and easing your heart rate as you wait for his answer.

You felt a thrill from just speaking to him. It was beautiful, really, and scandalous to some degree.

Falling for a man you’d met only a handful of times shouldn’t be possible, but here you were, waiting with bated breath to hear his decision to see you again.

Please say yes…just one last time.

Alastor smiled, taking his time to contemplate your offer while leaning back in his desk chair, eyes trained on the intricate soundboard he sat at. He'd grown attached to you in one way or another, unsure if it was pure curiosity or pity on his part. Both reasons hadn't plagued him before your first encounter, and Alastor refused to acknowledge such impractical emotions, reminding himself that you were nothing more than a tag-along for him.

A lonely soul he could very quickly leave behind.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

That's what he forced his conscience to believe, willing itself to envision his compliance to your request as intrigue rather than genuine affection.

“I wouldn't dream of you refusing you, my friend. I look forward to spending time with you soon,” his answer was concise, a brief hint of satisfaction in his tone, and you immediately blurted out a joyous remark of relief.

“Then it’s settled! I’ll see you in two days,” a bright smile stretched across your face as he laughed softly on the other end, “You make it sound as if I’m your only reason for living, my dear.” Alastor shakes his head at his statement, knowing it held truth and proud to know he had such an effect on you.

Am I really that obvious to him?…

A stab of embarrassment hit you square in the heart, a subtle frown replacing your grin as you reflected on the time you’d spent with the radio host. He’d taken you anywhere and everywhere in New Orleans, insisted you join him for dinner on nights he wasn’t broadcasting, and even made an effort to view your recent film. However, he avidly proclaimed his hate for lackluster visual media.

However, he never criticized your films, choosing to compliment your scenes, or congratulating your recent success on his broadcast, as any good friend should do.

You couldn’t recall when Alastor had ever let on he knew of your attraction to him. Yes, he pried at your emotions for the hell of it a few times, but he’d never explicitly acknowledged it.

This was the first time he’d even alluded to such feelings, and your nerves were alert instantly, mind going blank as you navigated your flustered state before murmuring into the phone with a sheepish smile.

“You think very highly of yourself, Alastor..”

“Apologies, my dear. I’m partial to being honest with you. Take it as a form of flattery, if you will.”

His attempt at a modest apology failed, but you had no intention of stamping out his smug nature. Alastor’s blatant confidence was refreshing, and though you wished to keep speaking with him, your evening wasn’t absent of essential events to attend to.

You bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, wishing him a good evening despite knowing he’d put off sleep until the early morning to keep broadcasting as long as possible, and he returned the subtle sentiment before ending the call.

Hours passed, pictures were taken, interviews were conducted, and fans were screaming your name, but the only person on your mind was Alastor.

The following two days felt tortious, a strained waiting game you couldn’t wait to finish, and the second you arrived back in New Orleans and found the time to slip away from your manager, you headed straight for your usual rendezvous spot with the acclaimed radio host.

Club Intime

—- ——- ——- ——- ———

There he was, relaxed in the seclusion of a velvet lounge booth, merely hidden away from the rest of the dimly lit speakeasy. Alastor wasn’t one to socialize unnecessarily. He was content with observing others through the lenses of his round glasses that were beginning to fog up from the fumes of his cigarette, a cold glass half full of whiskey set before him to aid his solitary sedation.

From afar, he looked out of place, cordial, and put together, unlike the rest of the patrons waltzing around. The only unkempt detail about him was the state of his bow tie and collar. He’d undone it the second he sat down, nimble fingers unlacing the stiff ribbon before trying to unbutton his dress shirt's first two clasps. It was a habit he’d yet to avoid after a long evening of work and one you thoroughly enjoyed.

The insignificant results hit just the right nerves, drawing your eyes to his clean-cut features, caramel skin, and hidden scars that he’d once called “unavoidable trophies.” From what or who you weren't sure.

You’d thought to ask him why he felt so highly of his wounds, concerned they’d hit deeper than he let on, but Alastor reassured you through a tight smile your sympathy for him wasn’t needed.

He was a proud man, very sure of himself, and it showed even in a room full of illicit drinkers and rowdy partygoers. Intimidating was the easiest way to describe him, and you felt exactly that way as his hazel eyes settled on you from across the room: intimidated.

You stood at the club's entrance, letting one of the hosts take your coat, but as he asked which table you preferred, you politely declined his offer before looking back at Alastor.

He hadn’t moved, still staring you down with a gentle smile, glasses pushed to the top of his head, and drink in one hand while the cigarette dangled above its rim nestled between two of his fingers.

God, he was beautiful, like a demon straight out of hell.

Alastor tipped his head, signaling you to come his way, and you did with a certain excitement in your eyes. He studied you just the same as you’d done to him, watching your form intently as you snaked through the bustling crowd toward your regular table with him, and by the time you were close enough to call his name, a shameless grin was on your face.

“Al!” You shouted above the drumming music, slipping to sit beside him in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t hesitate to make room for you. “I see you made it to town safely, my dear!” He placed his drink down, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it in the liquor. You blushed at the sight of him exhaling the smoke, brown eyes trained on you and an expectant glint in them as he shifted to face you.

“Y-Yes, well, you’ve been an excellent guide the first few times I’ve come here, so I suppose I’m used to the city now.” You smiled at him softly, hoping he’d disregard the stutter in your voice, but knowing him, you were sure he’d caught it very clearly.

Nothing ever got past Alastor.

He hummed, flattered by your praise but more interested in your apparent nervousness. You had yet to act unbothered by him, which amused the radio host.

“Glad to know my assistance was helpful. Do you plan to stay longer this time round?” Alastor rested an arm on the table, chin finding his open palm, and his head now level with yours.

Fuck, I forget how tall he is sometimes…Jesus Christ…

You gulp, blood running hot as his gaze bores into yours, searching for an answer you had yet to give him. It felt hard to breathe for a moment; all you could hear was your heartbeat and the muffled noise of the club.

Why’d he always have to be so close?

Didn’t he know who you were, who he was, what this looked like to other people?

Granted, the onlookers were drunk or too dizzy from dancing to focus on you both.

But the risk of it all, that unmistakable boldness Alastor embodied, had you nervous in all the right ways.

After a beat of silence and staring, you mustered up the courage to give him a response. “Seeing as I have time off from filming, I’ll spend it here. A change of scenery is an actor's best challenge.” You broke eye contact with him, staring into the crowd to keep from fidgeting as he nodded with a low hum, “So, in other words, I won’t be rid of you anytime soon?” Alastor chuckled as you feigned offense at his question, head snapping towards him and a discreet frown on your lips.

“That was quite rude of you to say, Mr. Hartifelt. Especially since I came all the way here to see you…”

A mischievous spark lit up his eyes, smile growing devilish as you glared at him, “Ah, so I am the apple of your eye, mon cher…”

It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t pose the observation as anything else, wanting to bait you into a confession, and he succeeded quicker than you realized.

“No, I did come to experience the city,” you retort flatly, tempted to order a drink and down it to freeze the nerves burning your skin.

Alastor glanced around, assuring no one was invested in your exchange, before dipping his head to whisper in your ear. “Don’t lie to me, cher. I can see it written all over your face, and I must admit it’s a delight to see.” You could practically hear the wicked grin on his lips, sweet and sinister all at once.

Damn. It.

You paled as he pulled back, smirk ever present as he waved a waiter down to order another drink as if he hadn’t reduced you to a fluttery mess beside him.

You sat pin straight, willing to breathe, and on the verge of zoning out completely.

“And what would you like to order, monsieur?” The waiter addressed you, brow raised as you flinched from the sudden question, “I…uh…I-I’ll have the…” you inwardly panicked from the lack of coherent speech left on your tongue, but the building embarrassment dulled as Alastor spoke up for you.

“He’ll have the same as me. Double it and bring the tab as well. Merci.”

“Je vais le faire sortir tout de suite, monsieur. “ The waiter nodded, taking down Alastor’s request quickly before throwing you a strange look and strutting away.

You had to pull it together, or the image you worked so hard for Katina would crumple at one man’s behest, and deep down, you didn’t mind.

It was tiring being perfect, faking your entire personality for the masses's support, and the longer you lingered in Alastor’s company, the more enticing it was just to let it all go.

To drop the mask you wore like an overbearing shroud.

Just once, you’d like to be another person, someone less empty and carnally fulfilled.

One night wouldn’t hurt, right?

You glanced at Alastor, entranced by his lax manner, foot tapping to the swinging melodies and his eyes scanning the room as if searching for prey.

One night with him…wouldn’t be your end, right?

He didn't pretend with you, nor sugar coat his thoughts and actions in hopes of impressing you, and on more than one occasion you both sought some form of imtalcay from the other.

This man had seen what others couldn’t, so why deny yourself a chance at fleeting freedom?

He could pick you apart and put you back together again, and you wouldn’t mind.

So long as Alastor remained the only man to see through you.

One night.

That’s all you asked him for when your drinks arrived, and you were prepared for him to reject your offer, but the sting of refusal never came.

He accepted the arrangement, smile wide, and his eyes hazing over with lust the moment your question reached his ears.

“I thought you’d never ask, cher….”

The night was a whirlwind after that; the tab left on the table tallied to a large sum from the amount of alcohol ordered, and by the end of two hours, you were utterly inebriated.

You met the comfort of your hotel room not long after your time at the hidden bar, stumbling through the door by Alastors lead, laughing softly as his grip on your wrist tightened when you reached behind to close and lock the door.

If you'd seen the malicious edge to his smile as your lips met, you could've sensed danger before it arrived. Maybe if you'd stopped to think properly as clothes were tossed to the floor and his hands met your bare skin, you would've been weary of how cold they felt. Maybe if you'd perceived the rapid pace of your heart as fear for your life and not a side effect of mind-boggling pleasure while he fucked you to the point of tears, you could've vied for safety.

If only you'd seen through his mask, through his glamorous praises, and listless stares…

Maybe you could've survived and tried to fight him, but the rewards of cracking under his pressure rendered such critical thinking useless.

Once. Twice. A third.

Alastor took you from one height of pleasure to the next, forcing whatever bit of raw honesty he could out of you with a series of unforgiving thrusts, swallowing your breathless moans with shallow kisses. He'd never let you utter a word of refusal, using your body to the fullest without a second thought and scarcely sympathetic of how much you could take from him.

At the mercy of your fourth high, you clung to him, nails digging into his scarred back, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and your chest heaving with quiet groans of his name. Alastor could feel the stray tears on your cheeks, melting on his skin, exciting him to no end. “Oh, you poor thing..” he teased you through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as your walls tightened around his cock, another whine rippling your throat at the condensing remark.

“To think so many adore you, and yet here you are…” Alastor pressed his weight down onto you entirely, hands tight on your hips as he deepened his strokes, reaching places inside you that felt almost foreign. You gave up trying to speak, scratching down his back instead as a wordless warning for release, but he didn't let up.

“…showing your true colors to me. I could almost feel sport for you, Cher.” his tone dripped with vague pity, full of satisfaction as he buried himself in you, earning a soft gasp on your part and a fulfilled grown from him.

A warmth enveloped your core as he spilled his cum into you, adding to the amount he'd already so graciously given and triggering your release in seconds.

“Don't want you to feel bad for me..” you huff tiredly, eyes rolling as your cock twitched and leaked between you. Alastor hummed, eyes lowering the sight of skin glossing over with the sticky white fluid, “I pity any soul as desperate as yours, darling…”

“Desperate?” you question him with a lazy smile, ready to correct his comment but failing to as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and restless.

“Desperate to be loved by any and everyone…” Alastor clarifies, staring at you with a soft smile on his lips as he leans down to graze them over your parted ones.

“Even by a killer like me…”

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx

I finally completed this!!!! I'm seriously considering getting an Alastor blanket to curl up in because the stress I've been feeling this week is wild…❤️

Quick side note: do you all realize Alastor would be the most toxic partner in history? Yes, he's sweet, respectful, dashing, and everything else needed to be a surface-level perfect companion. But once you get past all of that, there's not a single aspect of your life Alastor wouldn't control, stalking you, weaving webs of lies to isolate you, using minor signs of affection as a way to keep you close, and buying you gifts to mask all his deep seeded antagonism. He would be your dream man but a total nightmare in one way or another.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Pilot Alsstor was something else I love him so muchhhh ❤️ credit to creator

[worldly-diversity]

@sanctiichor ○ 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 ○

         ⤷  『  “ There's something incredible about you and I can't quite tell what it is. Maybe that's the magic in it. ”  』

He scoffed softly. There was nothing incredible about what he was… A damaged child, an experiment, a clone. Some days he didn't even know who he was anymore, which feelings were his and which were Sephiroth, Jenova… There was always too much going on in his head, like it could burst if he didn't try control the flow.

"… If you say so." He mutters after a stretch of silence longer than most would find socially acceptable, but who cares about something like that anyway? He's used to making people uncomfortable by now, not his fault he needs twice as long to filter out everything else before he can figure out what's him and what his feelings are, what his words are.

Sephiroth being so close in this place doesn't help. Jenova being so far does.

He doesn't understand what Light sees in him anyway. So he's not dead yet, so what? But Light is someone he could admire if he could bring himself so far as to feel that much. He was steadfast and unwavering in a way Cloud envied, it made him feel even more like he was on uneven footing, trying desperately to regain a balance he was long past recovering. Still, this is the better place to be. He can't run from this, even if he'd like to.

Out there, on his own, Sephiroth would find him, and then what?

"Anyway, let's go…" There was a long road still ahead, after all.

.

[wandashousewife]

Dear Child (Chapter One)

Pairing — Wanda x Reader

Synopsis — Your father was notorious for going on failed tinder dates for years after your mother had left for her own reasons which she never told you. You never actually thought your father had a chance in the vast sea of relationships until you found out that one of his friends knew a European woman a couple years older than you who wanted to marry him. Strange.

Warnings — Failure dad, absent mother

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

You observed with a heavy heart as your father slumped onto the worn-out couch, his tired eyes scanning aimlessly through the channels, seeking solace in the flickering images that danced across the screen. The familiar routine had become a somber ritual ever since your mother's departure, leaving behind a palpable void in the once lively household.

You couldn't fault her for seeking refuge elsewhere, considering the tumultuous nature of your father's existence—a tumult that often mirrored the chaos of a raging inferno. Despite the turmoil, you couldn't help but yearn for the warmth and tenderness your mother once enveloped you in, like a comforting embrace during your tender years. Her absence loomed large, casting shadows of nostalgia and longing over the mundane moments of everyday life.

The room was engulfed in an oppressive silence, punctuated only by the relentless drone of the sports channel emanating from the television's speakers. Amidst the stifling stillness, your father's gravelly voice shattered the tranquility, his words slicing through the heavy air like a dull knife. Each syllable seemed weighed down by the burden of his existence, tinged with the stale odor of cigarette smoke that clung to his every exhale, staining the air with a sickly sweetness that made your stomach churn with disdain.

"Y'know my old buddy Chad?" His inquiry hung in the air, thick with the acrid tang of regret and longing, a bitter reminder of past connections that had soured over time. The mere mention of Chad ignited a simmering rage within you, a visceral reaction to the memory of a man whose arrogance eclipsed even the most brazen displays of confidence. Chad, with his smug demeanor and unwavering self-assurance, epitomized everything you despised in a person—a toxic amalgamation of conceit and entitlement that grated against your very core. The thought of him, swaggering through life with unchecked bravado, filled you with a potent cocktail of resentment and loathing, a sentiment that mirrored your disdain for the pungent stench of your father's breath and the bitter taste it left lingering on your tongue.

“Sadly.” You mumbled under your breath, putting down your phone.

“Well, he finally found me a wife!” Your father's booming voice reverberated through the house, brimming with an infectious excitement that seemed to electrify the very air around him. Wait, what? Chad found him a what?!

“You’re joking.”

"No! He said it’s absolutely real, plus it’s one of those European girls," your father declared with a sly wink, his tone laden with a hint of lasciviousness that left a bitter taste in your mouth. The subtle leer in his eye betrayed a lingering penchant for lewdness, a facet of his personality that never failed to incite your contempt and disdain.

"And he said that she should be here today," he stated proudly, his chest puffing out with a sense of accomplishment. The suddenness of the revelation caught you off guard, prompting a surge of incredulity to bubble within you.

"So you just bought a wife?" you queried, your voice laced with skepticism and a tinge of disapproval, unable to fathom the notion of acquiring companionship through such transactional means.

"Not exactly, apparently he has a buddy from his traveling days who was offering his daughter to someone rich. Great sob story though," your father explained, his tone tinged with a hint of cynicism as he recounted the dubious origins of this supposed arrangement. The mention of a wealthy stranger peddling his daughter as a commodity stirred a sense of unease within you, prompting a cascade of questions about the morality and ethics surrounding such transactions.

The sudden ring of the doorbell shattered the tense atmosphere, signaling the arrival of the anticipated guest. With an almost childlike eagerness, your father sprang from his seat, his footsteps echoing across the floorboards as he hurried to greet the visitor. As the door swung open, you caught your first glimpse of her—a striking figure adorned in luxurious attire, her long, brown locks cascading effortlessly down her shoulders. Despite her undeniable beauty, an air of unease settled over you as you realized that this poised woman standing before you was the embodiment of the arranged alliance your father had so eagerly embraced. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you resigned yourself to the inevitable complications that lay ahead.

“Salutări, numele meu este Wanda. Esti sotul meu?” The woman greeted, with your father just eagerly nodding along, most likely not even understanding her.

"I have no idea what you just said, but you are gorgeous," he declared boldly, his words dripping with unchecked admiration and a brazen disregard for propriety—a trait of your father's that never failed to incite a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation within you. The unabashed forwardness of his compliment served as a stark reminder of the stark contrast between his cavalier approach to social interactions and your own more reserved demeanor.

"Oh, sorry. I said that my name is Wanda, and are you my husband?" she translated, her voice carrying a gentle warmth as she offered a soft smile in response. Your father's eager nod and reciprocated smile seemed to mask an underlying sense of satisfaction, one that hinted at ulterior motives lurking beneath the surface—an unsettling realization that sent a shiver down your spine as you observed the exchange unfold before you.

"Why yes I am, and this is my dear precious daughter, Y/N," he proclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of forced enthusiasm as he introduced you to the stranger standing before you. The subtle nudge from your father prompted a strained smile to tug at the corners of your lips, though beneath the facade of pleasantries, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions churned within you—a tumultuous blend of resentment, apprehension, and reluctant compliance.

Wanda's lingering gaze bore into you with a curious intensity, her eyes probing beneath the surface to unravel the enigma that lay hidden within. The faint hint of intrigue reflected in her expression stirred a flutter of uncertainty within you, prompting a momentary self-reflection as you pondered the possibility of harboring hidden depths that had captured her interest. The notion of being perceived as intriguing by this stranger ignited a spark of curiosity, compelling you to reassess your own sense of identity and the mysteries that lay shrouded within your being.

“She does look like a precious little girl.” Wanda smiled, laughing.

The sudden rush of flustered unease enveloped you like a suffocating cloak, its oppressive weight pressing down upon your senses with a stifling intensity that left you reeling in discomfort. Unlike the whimsical tales of fanfiction where sparkles danced in the eyes of enigmatic strangers revealing their true identities as vampires, the reality of the situation was anything but romantic or fantastical. The notion of Wanda possibly being a vampire, while momentarily amusing, quickly faded into the background as the sheer embarrassment of the situation washed over you like a tidal wave, drowning out any fanciful musings with a stark reminder of your own vulnerability and discomfort.

Despite your father's insistence on giving Wanda a tour of the house, her gaze continued to stray in your direction, each glance feeling like a subtle yet probing exploration of your very essence. The intensity of her scrutiny seemed to linger on you like a weight, igniting a flicker of discomfort that danced along the edges of your consciousness.

The notion of her seemingly feeding off you with her eyes, while possessing an undeniable allure in a different context, now felt uncomfortably inappropriate given the newly formed familial dynamic. The juxtaposition of attraction and familial boundaries blurred into a disconcerting haze, leaving you grappling with a tumult of conflicting emotions and unsettling thoughts.

Despite your repeated protests and fervent attempts to dissuade your father from venturing into your private sanctuary, his relentless insistence persisted, leading the procession towards the one place you had hoped to shield from prying eyes.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you watched helplessly as he swung open the door to your bedroom, exposing the inner sanctum of your personal space to Wanda's curious gaze. The air hung heavy with a palpable sense of intrusion, as the boundaries of privacy blurred and the carefully curated refuge you had crafted for yourself lay vulnerable to the scrutiny of outsiders.

Wanda's gaze locked onto yours once more, her eyes alight with a mischievous glint that seemed to pierce through the veil of your embarrassment with unnerving precision. The knowing smirk that played upon her lips betrayed an acute awareness of your discomfort, a silent acknowledgment of the boundaries you had sought to uphold and the vulnerability you now found yourself exposed to.

As the evening unfolded, Wanda seamlessly integrated herself into the household, her presence casting a newfound sense of warmth and vitality over the once somber atmosphere. The tantalizing aroma of her culinary creations wafted through the air, filling the space with the enticing promise of a delectable feast. With each savory bite of the Romanian delicacy she had prepared, the rich flavors danced upon your palate, leaving a lingering impression of culinary excellence that spoke volumes of her culinary prowess.

Yet, amidst the conviviality of the dinner table, Wanda's unwavering gaze remained fixated upon you, a constant presence that seemed to defy explanation. The intensity of her scrutiny bore into you like a relentless tide, leaving you unsettled and acutely aware of the unspoken tension that lingered between you. With each passing moment, the weight of her gaze pressed down upon you, an unspoken question lingering in the air, begging to be addressed yet remaining shrouded in enigmatic silence.