#a soul eternally in tune; APPEARANCE.

[thinemoonshine]

𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊; 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖑𝖊𝖘

immortal!enhypen x mortal!female reader content(s): college setting, vampire enhypen, human reader, enhypen has an unhealthy fixation towards reader, mature and dark themes, warnings will be specified at each chapter type: mini series (6 parts)

red strings tangled beyond repair, the solution being to return to the hand they are tethered to. but things prove to be more painful—more excruciating than any they’ve ever felt. even for immortals who deem pain as merely a child’s game.

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

ℌeeseung rushes through the woods, undead heart pounding rapidly, vehement and erratic—much more than it ever has when he was alive. Prickly thorns and branches graze and cut through his porcelain skin, leaving bleeding wounds that seal themselves almost as instant as they were made.

“She’s here. She’s back,” his whispery voice is carried by the wind as he continues his relentless pursuit to find her. The one they have been waiting for so long—decades, centuries and millennials. Eternity.

𝔍ongseong huffs, breaths heavy as he tails close behind—not of exhaustion, but of fierce desperation—and his chest heaves while he wears a pained countenance. The everlasting yearn that burgeoned throughout his years of living whilst dead pouring from his very being—showing through the reddening rims of his eyes and the whites of his curled knuckles.

A grunt rips through 𝔖unghoon’s throat as the bottom of his trouser gets caught by a thick branch. He clicks his tongue, irritated, and haphazardly retracts his leg—the fabric tearing with a loud, clear sound. But he’s mindless of it, much too occupied with seeing her. Finally. The mere idea of it brings a clarity to his mind, quietening his incessant, intrusive thoughts and a hopeful smile makes its way to his face.

His surroundings that typically appeared bleak and grey slowly regain their significance and colours and he inhales the earthy essence—the moist, healthy soils, fragrant blooming flora and even the faint scent of sweet nectar and honey.

The world feels beautiful once more.

“I can’t believe it! After all this time!” 𝔍aeyun exclaims, excitement buzzing through his veins and raising goosebumps on his skin as the adrenaline builds. His pearly whites are displayed from his unrestrained ear-to-ear grin despite his feverish stunts.

Hopping from one tree to another and landing with a spin onto his feet—continuing his sprint briefly before retuning to his jumpy behaviour. He’s overflowing with pure delight, eyes sparkling incandescently as he seizes his lip between his teeth.

𝔖unoo giggles joyously, eyes upturned into crescents as he plays a game of chase with 𝔍ungwon. The moment they felt her presence, an indescribable sense of merriment flooded them, washing away their never ending misery. Their withered hearts that were once weighty with doubt regarding her return now beating with anticipation and conviction.

“Catch me if you can~” Sunoo challenges and Won’s grin broadens, dimples deepening and eyes glaring with determination as he hastens his steps—eliciting a shriek from the older.

Their laughter resound within the woods and as if celebrating alongside them, the birds chirp and sing in an optimistic tune while warm sunlight shines against wet leaves and puddles. Small, faint streaks of colours emerging around them and casting a beautiful glow.

A picturesque scene right out of a film.

Lagging behind is ℜiki who’s still astonished and yet, skeptical. Why now? After all this time, why now? Could they be wrong? Maybe they had all mistakenly think it was her. It’s not an impossible thought considering how it’s been��forever since their last moment with her. Their instincts might be rusty.

But he knows. Truthfully, he knows that they can never be mistaken. No one sets their souls alive like she does.

And admittedly, he too knows that his denial stems from fear. The fear that she may arrive and fleet away just as abruptly. And once again, he will be abandoned, left to wallow in his own self-pity and desolation for years and centuries to come. The gap in his chest widening more and more with her absence.

His teeth grit and jaw tightens at the already torturous thought. He swallows dryly, dreading the possibility but a sudden tug within his ribs, the sudden lightness he feels and the lack of emptiness inside—

A gasp escapes as he snaps his head up, facing the front to see his brothers all decelerating as they approach the exit of the forest they’ve caged themselves in where across is a human town. Wasting days, months, years away inside their sumptuous mansion with their plentiful riches just to be overcome by the sense of vanity.

Their attentions are transfixed by the bright light that awaits them—the end to their painful yet, wilful confinement and they glow. They are radiant, spirits flourishing and… alive.

“She’s here,” Riki mutters under his breath, voice cracking as eyes brim with tears.

The seven figures emerge between the tall trees like creatures of myth—dangerously enthralling and breathtakingly beautiful—with their steps slow yet determined.

But they are forced to a halt as great, extravagant forms of red and orange greet them obtrusively—dancing flamboyantly on their faces and frozen frames as their senses that were previously dulled by her overpowering being begin to sharpen.

While the feeling of her begins to blur.

They can finally hear the deafening wails and shrieks as the choking scent of thick smoke infiltrates their noses and fogs their vision with layer after layer of soot. Sirens of ambulance and firefighters are blaring while crowds of people are frantically running from the burning resident, screaming for help.

And amidst all this chaos lies one girl quietly at the side of the street, tranquil, with her head against the plush green grass, a hand beside her head and the other resting on her stomach as if taking a siesta—if only her dress wasn’t dyed crimson by her own blood, face isn’t dusted with gray from the remains of debris and the torment that reveals itself from the marks of drying tears.

The seven appear beside her. Heeseung and Jay dropping to their knees as Sunghoon stands paralyzed yet shoulders tremble violently at his shaky breaths. Jake’s teeth sink deep into his lower lip, drawing blood as he tries and fails to muffle his wails—heavy tears brimming his eyes and flowing down his reddened cheeks like a storm.

Jungwon gulps, a sharp pain stabbing through his throat at his pitiful attempt to swallow his grief but the burn in his eyes betray him as he too ends up sobbing and shivering as he struggles to stand. Hands and sleeves wiping his face repetitively as his cries heighten.

Sunoo’s emotions are unvarnished, bare and loud as he screams in agony and wrath. Everything is unfair. He doesn’t want this— no, he CAN’T. His palms grate against the scattered debris and they stab and dig through his skin mercilessly yet, he’s unfeeling.

Even as his blood drips and paints the vibrant green with red, he remains… drowned in his anguish. Ears once again muffled as he can only hear his previous doubts taunting him, ridiculing him and shattering him more than he already is.

And Riki… he kneels beside her inert body, staring with clouded eyes as he slowly lifts his large hand onto hers and it quivers slightly as it nears. The moment they touch, her foreign, cold temperature makes his eyes well up and thick salty globules seep into her dress—his body bending lower and lower until his forehead rests against her still stomach.

Whimpers and silents gasps of her name escape past his lips like a spell, as if it will resurrect her and this continues until Sunghoon approaches to cautiously, slowly lift her limp body into his taut arms.

Although wordless, the others understand perfectly—feebly rising to their feet as they trail behind him who makes his way back into the woods. The panic instilled in others make for perfect distraction and they disappear from the public once more.

Sunghoon strides grimly through the tall, mighty trees—breaking whatever branch that obstructs his path with his inhuman strength, trampling every vivid flora that burdens his track and disregarding anything and everything else.

He sees only vanity. Nothing worth his attention.

He lays her on a slightly raised white stone dais with beautiful intricate engravings on each of its four sides—fresh flowers, spirals and crystals adorning its plainness.

The seven figures encircle her, silent and deeply scarred by the abrupt tempestuous of emotions that they experienced that are powerful enough to make them feel nauseated—wanting to vomit their insides and ruin whatever remnants of their humanity, all there are that enable them to still feel and hurt.

But simultaneously, they wish to remember it all, to keep themselves sentient so they can once again relish in the joy and miracle that is her. The one who they’ve sworn to guard and have surrendered themselves to. This singular wish manages to keep them sane albeit hanging by a thread and they watch with heavy eyes as Jake nears the dais.

His hand lifts, palm to the sky as a gentle flame appears—movements irregular as it grows larger and larger before it stills into a steady fire.

With a deep exhale, he says, “Until we meet again.”

(those pink bolded cannot be tagged) taglist for this series is open—send an ask or comment below to be added ♡

@codyl-angdon @in-somnias-world @randomanothercreature @m1kkso @immelissaaa @starfallia @suhwife @neozon3nha @dcllsinna @soobinslittlewatermelon @haozyth @tunafishyfishylike @riribelle @loumin908

[brittle-doughie]

That reblog has me thinking about something...

Imagine a Y/N Cookie that entered a pact with one of the beasts for their power. Could be any of the five - sort of like a Warlock from DND situation.

It has taken up my brain space fr...

-🌋🐉

The Perfect Vessel Doesn’t Exi-

It can’t be all that bad that your pure soul is mixed with the Beast of your choosing, right?

Shadow Milk + Y/N Cookie

Shadow Milk wins out in the appearance department, with your appearances taking on many aspects of his jester attire, one of your eyes resembling his.

Cookies would be more willing to turn into deceitful clowns thanks to Y/N Cookie’s charming capabilities

Will now be able to wield Shadow Milk’s pyrokinesis power, using blue flames in your attacks

Telepathy allows you to get into cookie’s heads easily…

Eternal Sugar + Y/N Cookie

You win out in the appearance department, looking mostly yourself with the ability to spring out Eternal Sugar’s demon wings and tail, her angel wings. Other aspect as well like her halo, and one of your pupils being that of hers.

Eternal Sugar’s Sloth aspect makes you a little slow to act, but it’s because you know you could destroy your opponents if you tried.

Cookies are now charmed way more easily if you simply whisper their name and say nothing but sweet words. So cookies should NOT give their names in your presence!

Playing the harp has charmed cookies following your tune flawlessly..

Burning Spice + Y/N Cookie

You win in appearance, having Burning Spice’s weapon and shoulder guards, one eye pupil being that of Spice’s.

Destruction is your main tool of attack, the fires around you listen to your movements, resulting in hell on Earthbread all the time.

Increased strength, that weapon isn’t exactly lightweight. Cookies who try to attack you head on will have a rough time!

Your attitude might get a little more battle ready, you’re just itching to get ready to cause havoc!

Mystic Flour + Y/N Cookie

Mystic Flour wins in your appearance, getting most of her attire, it’s unknown if your pupils have changed since your eyes are always closed.

Probably one of the more deadlier Beasts that you can agree to be let inside in exchange for her power. One wave of your hand is enough to wipe out the area all around you.

Cookies now mean exceptionally less to you due to Mystic’s Apathy. You still regard Cookies, but you don’t care whether they get hurt or not when you use your power.

Levitation is also inherited from Mystic Flour, you won’t need to touch the ground that might inconvenience you.

Silent Salt + Y/N Cookie

Silent Salt wins in appearance, with you literally wearing their armor and wielding their sword, one of your eyes being theirs.

You’re a Cookie of little words, you’d instead let your sword do the talking, and by that, you mean cutting them down right away.

Companionship is a no-go for you, isolation is something you welcomed and any Cookie interfering with that are not going to get a polite warning.

Similarly to Spice, your strength is increased in order to wield your sword. Cookies should also avoid close quarters fighting with a silent you as well.

[uwukillmenowowo]

Hello I saw your platonic Crk story with the beast cookies and I was just rewatching the theater of lies episode and I got an idea, what if the reader gets so angry at Shadow milk cookie that they just scream "SHUT IT!" which stuns everyone into silence not even knowing the reader could get that mad, if you're not comfortable with writing this or simply don't want to that's completely alright 😊

o_O

interesting- Interesting indeed-

I could've made this so much more simple but- I didn't ToT

Annoyance

[PLATONIC]

(Beast Cookies X Reader)

Notes:

Reader will be Non-binary

#Peaceful Mode

Simple mind things

The Beasts were revived. What was the first thing they did? Find their little sibling of course.

{SecondPOV}

~~~~~

You were shocked to see your old friends in front of front of you again. The difference was not only in their appearance and names but their personality too. Blueberry Milk in particular. Or rather... Shadow Milk Cookie. He used to be your best friend... Now he's your greatest annoyance.

Before he was the most quiet and the "Hold my hand when crossing the road" friend now he's the "Jackass bitch I wanna strangle but they're still my friend" friend.

Ever day..

And I mean- EVER DAY- He's annoying you with something different before rambling on and on.

"[Reader] Cookie, why did you dye your frosting? You know I loved it [H/c]? Can I change it back?"

"[Reader] Cookie, Why are your drawing the soul jam thieves?... What do you mean they aren't thieves!?"

"[Reader] Cookie, who are Espresso Cookie and Madeline Cookie? They aren't your boyfriends are they?"

"[Reader] Cookie~! Come look at my new puppets~!"

You were getting fed up because most of the time he would bother you when you're working on important stuff.

But this time. You were working on something VERY important. Crushed Spice- Err... Burning Spice Cookie. He recently had to fight the other Wild spices because something happened. In the process, his favorite bracelet got damaged and you were fixing it.

Before, Burning Spice didn't really care about his appearance, but now he did. He wanted to look powerful and offered you somehting you couldn't refuse. So you had to fix it for him.

Leaning in closer so that you can see it better, you carefully started to melt some golden cheese so that you can fix it. Liquid cheese can get very hot so you had to be very careful when- "Wow! Would you look at that!" "WAAAHHH!!"

Screaming in shock at the sudden cookie you dropped all the liquid cheese onto Burning Spice's bracelet, absolutely covering it in liquid cheese. You stared at Shadow Milk Cookie before looking at Burning Spice's bracelet, and then back at Shadow Milk Cookie. "Are you kidding me...?" You asked in disbelief.

"Heeey~ What's it matter? I just-" You started to tune out Shadow Milk Cookie as you stared at the ruined bracelet.

THE ONE THING THAT BURNING SPICE WANTED SO THAT HE WOULD TAKE YOU TO MEET THE OTHER SPICES.

Yup! That was it! All you wanted was the meet the other Spices! but Burning Spice never allowed you because it was too dangerous! The reason why you've always wanted to go is because you helped a little Kulfi get home a couple years ago and you promised to meet them again!

"-Surely it can't be that bad-"

"SHUT IT ALREADY YOU UNKNOWLEDGEABLE, DECEPTIVE- *grumble* *grumble* DUMMY!!"

Shadow Milk, who sat across from you, paused.

Burning Spice who just walked in to check on his bracelet, went slack jawed.

Silent Salt, who was with Burning Spice, felt his soul gem die.

Mystic Flour and Eternal Sugar gasped and snorted respectively.

They didn't know how to react. How could they? Years ago, you were the cookie who would always say, "Mind your manners, it's not nice" With a small pout on your face.

But now- you just told your best friend that he was being an annoying bitch-

Shadow Milk Cookie in particular, stared at you in shock.

All of a sudden- he fainted and started frothing at the mouth.

Meanwhile, you just walked away, grumbling to yourself.

"That's not my best friend... Never has been."

~ (OwO) ~

I could've made this more simple than it had to be so I dunno why I went with lore...

[soaringwide]

Pick a Card: What makes you feel alive and inspired in life?

PILE 1 🩷 > PILE 2 🩵 > PILE 3 ❤️

We are all driven by different things, and it's easy to lose track of that when you are distracted by the noise of the world.

Today, I want to look at what lights up your spark, what makes you feel alive and inspired in life.

Whether you want to simply get to know yourself better, or get a little reassurance in a difficult time, this reading is meant to be empowering and uplifting, and help you remember what makes life feel soulful for you.

Remember that this is a general reading meant for many people. Take what resonates and leave out the rest. Never forget that you are the leader of your own life and you make the call on what you want to do, believe and think, or not.

If you like my style, feel free to check out my paid readings on ko-fi or the link bellow.

book a reading ★ all PACs ★ pinned post ★ instagram

PILE 1 🩷

Cards: The River, Ace of Cups, Judgement, the Devil, the Hermit, 3 of Pentacles

Life is a flowing journey for all, but you take it to heart.

You feel the most alive and inspired when you embrace what the great current of life brings to you in order to wash away the decaying parts of yourself and shed your old skin.

To you, life is all about transforming yourself. The Existential Grindstone putting pressure on what needs to change and forcing you to be born anew. You do not like being stagnant, for murky waters poison your sense of purpose. You like movement within yourself, and knowing that you are always growing, always learning and expanding.

You are not scared to go into the depths of yourself to face your own limitations and shortcomings. There is a humming in your heart, a whisper calling for change. You are an eternal student of life, dedicated to becoming a better person and experiencing life in its purest form: as a journey toward yourself. There is a well of patience and a vivid energy in you, merging wisdom gained from experience and the pure heart of youth.

There is a subnote about healing here, and I think, one some level, you feel the most soulful when you manage to shift things within you and witness the metamorphosis happening within yourself, so that you can sooth your pains and let go of the past. I see you being hyper aware of the darker or heavier aspects of yourself, and you are not scared of them because you know that within them lie the opportunity to bring more light, to expand and rise above. To break the chains stopping you from feeling truly alive.

I also believe that you wish for a fairer world, and that you know that it all start with yourself. And while appearing very in tune with your deeper self, which implies holding the most tender part of yourself secret, I know that you do not lose sight of the world around you, and that by building yourself, you can help build a better world too.

You will feel unaligned with life when you swim against the current. The world is a river carrying you and connecting us all, and in this life, you will feel the most alive and inspired when you accept to flow with it, to let events and people shape you, helping you build yourself, helping you write your own unique story.

PILE 2 🩵

Cards: The Castle, Death, 4 of Wands, the Lovers, Page of Pentacles, 10 of Cups

For this pile, I'm getting that you are well aware of the illusions of materialism and consumerism, and that you don't want to get lured in by dulling comfort and shiny luxuries. Most people accumulate things to build walls around them and to fill the void inside their soul, and it is possible that you were like that at some point, but you realized it led nowhere and embraced a deep change of your way of living and experiencing life.

I think your soul craves simplicity and honest connections with people, and that you feel the most alive when you manage to break away from the decadence of our post modern way of living next to each other (rather than truly together) and obsession with accumulating senseless things. "Why do we constantly need more, and when is more ever enough?" Could be a pretty significant idea for you and something your draw inspiration from.

You see this issue clearly and feel inspired by the dream of a more authentic and open world, and world that you could share with people you love and cherish.

It's like you want life to be a great party where everyone is equal and we all have enough to live and love freely, and when you manage to dive into that, do your part on your level, you feel invigorated, inspired and alive. It's also possible that you seek situations that encourage this feeling and feel inspired by that. Little moments of truth stolen from the surrounding madness that you see in the world.

I think connecting with people, from friends and family to heartfelt exchanges with strangers, is so important to you and make you feel soulful, and I see you either dreaming to have your own love nest (family of any kind, or community), or already having it and feeling the happiest when you can share these simple and authentic moments with your loved ones.

Life is a gift to be experienced with others, what is the point of living if only for yourself?

PILE 3 ❤️

Cards: The King, the Magician, 10 of Cups, 4 of Cups, 7 of Wands, Ace of Wands, Strength

You are someone who feels the most alive when you can lead the way and leverage your influence, skills and knowledge for the greater good and happiness of those around you.

You have a strong and proud soul, a regal heart and you know you can do lot of good with your positive influence, be it by protecting, leading or inspiring others to do more and better.

You are highly motivated and dedicated to make your wishes happen in the world. You feel highly stimulated when you are pushed to overcome struggles and obstacles, when you can rise above and prove yourself. You are highly resilient and will not let others make you feel small and weak. On the contrary, I think that inspires you to expand and become a greater version of yourself.

For you, time spent waiting passively for life to bring you what you want is wasted time. You find indecision and uncertainty distasteful and always strive to become more. The world will not open its doors for you if you do nothing, and you find that extremely stimulating and it gives you a sense of purpose that make you feel alive.

You might be someone who collects hobbies and passion because you enjoy learning and expanding your range of skills. You feel the most alive when you feel busy and can work hard on something you set your mind to. You want to be a master at many things, and you enjoy the process of reaching that point more than the actual end of the journey.

You want to be able to show the world all that you have accomplished, and it's pushing you forward and keeping your inspired.

[mrsshabana]

𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄!𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 ⛧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Today is the day of your wedding, the day you will marry Gyutaro the vampire prince. The ceremony will bind the two of you together, body and soul, for all of eternity. You feel closer to your new husband, but you fear it may just be the work of his vampiric charm. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, biting, blood, violence, arranged marriage ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.4k words

༺ Art ༻

⇢ Chapter one ⇢ Chapter three ⇢ Kinktober Masterlist

"Ow!" you yelp as one of the servants tightens your corset.

You're already feeling nervous as it is, and this corset crushing your ribs isn't helping.

"What's going on here?" a sultry deep voice appears out of nowhere.

"I-I'm sorry sir, I was just-" the servant tries to apologize but is interrupted.

"No need, you are excused," Gyutaro says as he walks towards you, his eyes looking over your body as you try to cover yourself as you're in your undergarments.

"Don't you know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?" you say, flustered.

"Is that so?" he chuckles, "You humans have such silly superstitions."

You can't help but blush as he comes up behind you and adjusts the corset, his fingers working quickly and elegantly as if he's done this many times before.

"How's this feel?"

"Oh, much better. Thank you..." you mutter.

"You look beautiful," he whispers as he wraps his arms around your waist and leans into you, "You know... I never imagined I'd ever get married. Let alone to such a beautiful woman."

"B-But, you're beautiful," you mumble, nervous from his touch though you can't help but like it. "So many women come here seeking to become your wife."

"That's true," he sighs, "But it's easy to charm you humans. Believe it or not, amongst vampires I'm considered quite unsightly."

"You? Unsightly? I don't see how. You're the most stunning man I've ever seen."

"You flatter me, but it's true. My father was ashamed of my face, and claimed I was a disgrace to our legacy."

His usual cocky demeanor shifts to something more melancholy as he steps away from behind you and idly walks around the room.

"I know I'm not well acquainted with you or your family but I don't get that impression of you. You seem like a strong pillar for your kingdom," you try to console him.

"Thank you," he gives you a genuine smile, "My father was so ashamed of me that he hid my existence from the kingdom. I was never allowed to leave the grounds..."

"Gyutaro..." you walk over to him and place your hand on his cold cheek, "You didn't deserve that. You know that now, don't you?"

"I do," he smiles, leaning into your touch, "And thanks to my father's untimely death I'll be taking his place... with you by my side."

"I know you'll be a king that your people can be proud of. I hope I'll make a fine queen," you laugh nervously.

"Don't worry, I know you will," he kisses your cheek, "Anyway I'll let you get ready, dear. I'll see you at the ceremony."

After Gyutaro leaves the room his servants come in to finish getting you ready. You feel better after having a proper conversation with him. Of course, you still don't know him very well but you do feel like you got a glimpse of who he is behind his status as a prince.

Though you still can't shake the uneasy feeling you get whenever he's around.

Once the sun goes down and the moon rises, the ceremony begins just as Gyutaro had said.

You wear a beautiful blood-red dress with a long train that trails behind you as you walk down the aisle. You can barely see anything due to the veil covering your face but you can tell that a lot of people are in attendance. You wonder if any of them are vampires as well.

A gothic tune plays loudly on the pipe organs within the cathedral. The moonlight beaming through the tall stained glass paints the room with red light.

You feel everyone's eyes on you as you slowly walk down the aisle, trying not to mess anything up. Gyutaro's marriage traditions are a bit different from yours so you try to do everything exactly as Ume had instructed you.

You can see Gyutaro's tall silhouette waiting for you. Though you can't see the expression on his face, everyone else can. And he stares at you with awe in his eyes - like you're the most beautiful creature he's ever laid his eyes on.

Once you make it to him, you promptly stand in front of him, keeping your face covered.

Usually, the king would be the one to lead the ceremony, but since Gyutaro's father is dead Ume will be leading the ceremony.

You can't see him fully, but your veil is thin enough for you to see that his pale skin is radiating in the moonlight. He looks almost ethereal.

Ume and the wedding guests wear all black, Ume's gown is long and adorned with red jewels. Usually, she has a sassy and combative attitude but she knows how important this ceremony is so she puts her attitude aside for her brother's sake.

"Family, friends, spirits of the night," she addresses the guests in a loud and commanding tone, "We gather here tonight to cast a bond for all of eternity. A bond that even death won't break. Gyutaro, Y/N, are you ready to marry?"

"Yes, more than ready," Gyutaro states.

"Yes," you nod, feeling nervous but pushing through anyway.

"Very well," she almost rolls her eyes but stops herself, "Brother, please proceed." She bows and holds out a golden dagger.

Ume didn't tell you about this part of the ceremony, she only said to shut up and follow along, so you start to feel nervous.

But as Gyutaro takes the dagger and steps forward, you somehow feel safe being closer to him.

"Y/N, my love... You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone. I give you my body, that we might be one," he lifts the dagger and slashes his wrist, not even flinching when blood comes pouring out, "I give you my spirit until our life is done."

"Y/N," Ume says, "Do you accept this unholy union?"

"Y-Yes, I do."

Gyutaro can't help but smirk at your agreeance. With his other hand, he lifts your veil, only enough to reveal your mouth and nose. And he lifts his bleeding wrist to your lips. It's clear he expects you to drink his blood.

Even though you don't know the consequences of drinking vampire blood, there's a voice in the back of your head that compels you to drink. Makes you crave the taste of Gyutaro's blood even though this is the first time it's ever touched your lips.

Without hesitation, you take his wound into your mouth and savor the taste of his blood as it flows onto your tongue and down your throat.

Gyutaro smiles, feeling pleased to see you eagerly drink from him. His wound appears to seal on its own as he pulls away from your lips. A beautiful red now stained on them.

You feel dizzy as Gyutaro's blood infiltrates your body. Vision blurred and chest heavy. You feel like you can't breathe as you struggle to stand. Feeling weak, but strangely there's a strong urge to be closer to him. Like the only thing that can comfort and protect you is your new husband. Unbeknownst to you, an unbreakable bond began to form after you drank his blood.

"Splendid," Ume smiles, "Gyutaro, you may now claim your bride."

With a devilish smirk, Gyutaro fully lifts your veil. The hunger in his eyes growing when he sees that gorgeous expression on your face. The expression of submission.

Gently placing his hand on your cheek, Gyutaro whispers, "Please, give yourself to me."

Without hesitation you tilt your head, exposing your neck to him.

His eyes meet yours, like he's telling you to trust him, before he leans forward and pierces your flesh with his fangs.

It hurts but you can't help but submit to him, giving him all of you. In this moment you'd let him drink every ounce of blood in your body if he so wished.

All you can do is hold him close with weak arms, moaning softly under his touch. Allowing him to take, take, and take from you. Until your body grows weak and you can't keep your eyes open anymore.

Everyone in the audience claps when they see your body go limp in Gyutaro's arms.

Pulling away once you've passed out, Gyutaro lifts you in his arms, carrying you bridal style down the aisle. Everyone in the room claps and throws rose petals towards the newlyweds.

You aren't awake to see it, but this is the happiest Gyutaro has ever been. And seemingly by everyone's reaction, the ceremony must have been a success according to their tradition.

However, Gyutaro isn't able to wait any longer and immediately carries you to your new shared bedroom.

[hishumanbellestories]

VALENTINE'S DAY.

| Valentine's day. Alastor breed you. +18. |

Hell’s version of Valentine’s Day was, unsurprisingly, a twisted and chaotic spectacle. Demons bartered souls for affection, cursed bouquets dripped with something suspiciously crimson, and love songs were more like haunting hymns. And yet, amidst all the madness, Alastor had his own plans—plans that revolved entirely around you.

It started early in the day. A neatly wrapped box appeared at your bedside, sealed with a ribbon that seemed to writhe on its own, almost as if it had a pulse. Inside? Rich, decadent chocolates, each infused with a peculiar warmth, as if Alastor had crafted them himself with something more than just culinary skill—perhaps a trace of his very essence. A note accompanied them, the ink swirling and shifting like it had a mind of its own, whispering faintly as if murmuring secrets only you could hear:

My dear, do indulge. It would be a shame if your lips tasted of anything other than sweetness tonight.

Beneath the box lay a letter, folded with an eerie elegance, the edges slightly charred as if kissed by fire. The handwriting—beautiful, old-fashioned—spoke in Alastor’s unmistakable voice:

My dearest heart,

Oh, how the very thought of you sets my soul alight! Or, what remains of it, at least. You have bewitched me in ways I never imagined possible, ensnaring me in a melody so divine, I dare not change the tune. Every glance, every word, every heartbeat of yours is a symphony, and I would conduct it for eternity if you’d allow me.

Tonight is ours, and I intend to make it one you shall never forget. No force in Hell, nor Heaven if they dared, could pull me from your side. You are mine, my darling—heart, soul, and every sweet breath you take. And I? I am yours, in the only way a monster like me knows how to be—entirely, obsessively, and forever.

Dress beautifully, my love, for I have prepared a night worthy of your radiance.

Yours, always and only,

Alastor

The message sent a shiver down your spine—anticipation or unease, you weren’t sure.

And then there was Alastor himself.

He was unusually clingy today. Not that he wasn’t always somewhere near, but this time, it was different. His arm found its way around your waist at every turn, his voice laced with an almost unnerving warmth, and his eyes never left you. When you so much as looked at another demon—out of politeness, curiosity, or just by chance—his grip would tighten, and his smile would stretch just a little too wide.

“I do hope no one’s been trying to distract you, my dear,” he murmured into your ear, his voice a sing-song whisper as he led you through the streets of Hell’s twisted version of a Valentine’s festival. His fingers traced gentle, possessive patterns along your wrist. “After all, tonight is our night, isn’t it?”

But, of course, Hell never made things easy.

A demon, bold or foolish, tried to test the waters. A smirking incubus slid into your path, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Didn’t think someone like you would be tied down,” he mused, daring to brush a finger along your arm. “What do you say, sweetheart? Ever get tired of the same old radio static?”

The moment stretched long and cold.

Alastor’s chuckle was light, airy—deceptively amused. His fingers, however, curled ever so slightly, a crackling hum of energy vibrating beneath his touch. “Oh-ho, my dear!”, his voice was sickeningly sweet, but something dark pulsed beneath it. “Do be careful who you toy with. You might find yourself... out of tune sooner than you think.”

The incubus’ smirk faltered, but before he could react, shadows stretched unnaturally, curling at his feet like hungry tendrils. One blink, and he was gone—vanished into the abyss of Hell’s undercurrents, where Alastor sent things that annoyed him.

And just like that, the Radio Demon turned back to you, all smiles once more. “Now, where were we, my dear? Ah, yes! Our date!”, he spun you into his arms, dipping you dramatically before pressing a gloved hand to your cheek. “I do believe I owe you a most unforgettable evening.”

And unforgettable it was.

The private dinner was nothing short of mesmerizing. A lavish table was set in a dimly lit, secluded part of Hell, where the shadows seemed to dance along to an eerie, yet strangely romantic melody. The air was heavy with the scent of exotic, otherworldly spices. Candles flickered with flames that shimmered in hues unnatural to the mortal world, casting shifting illusions upon the walls.

Alastor insisted on feeding you himself, his crimson eyes watching every movement, every taste, every reaction. He poured dark wine into a goblet, swirling it slowly before pressing it to your lips. “Every sip, every bite… you belong to me, my dear”, his voice was low, almost pleading, but undeniably possessive.

He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before standing, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Now, my sweet, what’s a Valentine’s night without a dance?”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled you into a graceful waltz, guiding you effortlessly despite the haunting tune that played in the background. His hold was firm, his movements fluid, and his smile never faltered. “You’re quite the vision,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “I’d say you’ve bewitched me, but, well, we both know who the real devil is.”

The dance slowed, his hand settling on your waist as he gazed into your eyes with something deeper than amusement. His lips hovered just above yours, teasing, waiting. The world around you faded—there was only him, only his touch, his warmth, his intoxicating presence.

And then, at last, he closed the distance.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, filled with an intensity that left you breathless. His gloved fingers cradled your face, pulling you deeper into him as though he wanted to consume you entirely. A growl rumbled low in his throat, vibrating against your skin. When he finally pulled away, his grin was sharper, more dangerous. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I do hope you’re prepared… because this night is far from over.”

After all, Valentine’s Day was about love. And Alastor’s love was consuming, endless… and just a little... terrifying.

But eventually, the night had to wind down. And so, Alastor led you back home, though his arm never once left your waist, his fingers ever so lightly tracing circles against your skin. The air was thick with something unspoken, an electricity that neither of you wished to break. The moment you stepped inside, he pulled you to him once more, burying his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Mine,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly, his voice softer than before. He guided you to his room, and as you both settled in, he curled around you, holding you close as if afraid you’d slip away.

“Did you enjoy our evening, my dear?” he asked, his voice drowsy, yet still laced with amusement.

You hummed, nuzzling into his chest, “I love it!”

A satisfied chuckle rumbled through him, his arms tightening just slightly. “Good… because next year, I’ll have to make it even more unforgettable. But for now… let's think about the present.”

His lips joined yours in a hot kiss. His hands slide over the curves of your soft and candid body, to the point that his teeth grazed your lips and bit them. His hands found their place on your face, grabbing your cheeks and allowing the kiss to advance, to explore your mouth, while his tongue searched for yours in a shocking hunger. He dropped his hands into your hair, pulling your head back delicately to give him access to your throbbing neck, which he began to lick and bite, filling you with hickeys. His left hand slid down your dress, lifting your skirt, brushing the outside of your thigh and moving, very slowly, provocatively, inside. Your body was hot, your breathing already rapid. "Alastor," your voice was shaking, but you wanted more. "Shhh, my little one. Or they'll hear us," he whispered and covered your mouth with his free hand, but you bit it to free yourself. In his eyes a look of mischief and pleasure. Suddenly, two of his fingers ended up inside you. "Ah!", you screamed, and Alastor brought his jaw close to your ear, panting. This was enough to make you completely wet; his voice, naked, his pants for you alone, that no one has and would ever hear but you. He was yours. Only and damn yours. His fingers pushed inside you slowly, delicately, allowing you to enjoy the sensation. When your body relaxed, Alastor pushed deeper, touching your sacred spot and curving his fingers for maximum pleasure. Your moans were sweet and suffocating, intoxicating his mind, and Alastor had never been as hungry as he was now. His head pulled back slightly so he could look at you. Your lips were open and making sweet music just for him, your eyes closed and your expression… divinely, sinfully, lustful. His free hand cupped your cheeks, puffing out your lips. "Look at ME," he said in a firm, sinful tone. And you opened your eyes immediately, finding the two shiny rubies, fixed in yours. Something in Alastor snapped, seeing you like this… completely his. "I thought I could do something romantic, but I can't resist you. I want you, now," he said, sealing his hand on your hip very tightly and leaning into you, rubbing his erection on your thighs, you gasped feeling it. Alastor removed his soaking fingers from you and unbuttoned his pants, without removing them. He pulled out his cock and pushed it in instantly, your legs wrapped around his waist, tightening around his covered ass cheeks. He grabbed your hair with a fistful of his hand and you both gasped at the feeling of him inside you. Your walls surrounded him, tightened, welcomed him after so much waiting, wanted him… Your breaths were a mixture of hot clouds on each other's skin, your gasps echoing in the room. Alastor's grip tightened in your hair while with the other he held you tightly by your hip, pushing himself deeper and deeper. His eyes were still fixed on yours, blinding red, burning with the passion he felt for you. "Mon coeur… ah-, I… I can't hold back any longer," he said panting, his breath short. Her arms wrapped around the back of his upper back, pulling his face closer to the crook of her neck. "Don't," she whispered, huddling his face against her shoulder blade. Alastor clung to her completely, his hips moving faster and deeper, until he shot all his seed deep inside her. "Don't pull out, please," she said, her walls tightening around his cock again. "It feels so good. I feel complete when we're like this," she said, blushing and covering herself. "I didn't mean to," he gasped again, caressing her cheek and smiling lovingly, leaning in to kiss her. After minutes of post-orgasm touches and kisses, Alastor removed himself from her slit, and with one finger pushed his dripping seed inside. "Not a drop wasted, my love. I know it's crazy, but I want to breed you. I need to. I need you," he said, placing his hand on your belly as he kissed you again.

His warmth, his presence, his love—twisted, dark, and wholly consuming—wrapped around you as you drifted into slumber, safe in the embrace of the devil who would never let you go.

[knight-a3]

Rosie, the Cannibal Overlord

Heavenbound AU

Hazbin Masterpost

More notes under the cut

--Background--

Life: There's not a lot of canon to go off of here, yet. So I'll keep my theorizing to a minimum. First, I think she's a sinner, not hellborn. She died in the 1910s, probably somewhere in the range of 40-60 years old. I'm keeping my options open.

There's two ways this could go: Either she was a cannibal because she was a freak, or she was in a bad situation and resorted to cannibalism but died anyway. And hell cursed her with cannibalistic cravings that she just embraced. I don't care which.

Afterlife: Rosie is not a particularly powerful overlord by herself, but she still dangerous. She's tuned into the rumor mill and hears about almost everything that's going on, looking for opportunities to make deals. She carries a friendly demeanor, but is not to be trusted. She will help people with their problems, for a price(like Ursula from the Little Mermaid). If they can't pay right now, she'll accept temporary ownership of a soul until their debts are paid. But the debt might just take an eternity to pay off while she dangles freedom just out of reach.

Her most loyal souls are the cannibals. She's the leader of Cannibal Town, and the cannibals willingly sold their souls to her and she treats them with more respect than most of her other souls. If you mess with any of the cannibals, you incur the wrath of them all.

While she is not strictly powerful, it is a bad idea to underestimate her. Between her deceptively unassuming demeanor, her knack for collecting gossip, her loyal cannibals, and her powerful alliances(Alastor in particular), she can be a very dangerous enemy.

--Design Notes--

Dress: Her canon outfit was definitely giving Edwardian vibes. So it made sense when I heard that she was inspired by "Hello Dolly". The Edwardian period spans approximately from the 1890s-1910s, right between Victorian and Roaring 20s. Based on her S-curve silhouette, Rosie's fashion seems most in line with the mid-Edwardian trends. Early in the era, volume carried over from the Victorians, but slimmed down by the end, then led into the 20s.

But I was having trouble understanding the construction of her outfit, so I just wanted to make sense of it. There's nothing egregiously wrong with her canon outfit, I basically just wanted to tweak it a little to suit my preferences a little better.

Hat: Hats got very elaborate. Apparently it was popular to have a stuffed bird as decoration. Which I think Rosie would like, but I don't want to draw that. While the skull in canon also suits her, I really wanted to incorporate roses, because of her name. But skulls and roses both would be too much. I played with the idea of using other flowers, like poppies(which represent death and remembrance, and are used as a symbol to honor the fallen of WWI and veterans. I thought it could be fitting because WWI was at the tail end of this time period). But I ended up not really liking it as much.

Black roses symbolize death, which is obvious enough. The greyish ones were mostly just to contrast the black.

Hair: Seems the Edwardians were obsessed with the pompadour. Rosie most likely does not have short hair, but long hair in an updo.

Full Demon: I wanted Rosie to have a full demon form. We don't have a canon one, so I took the liberty of doing it myself, and creatively called it "Spooky Rosie". I wanted it to be skeletal in appearance, and have long nails. I ended up taking inspiration from the Beldam/Other Mother from Coraline. As well as wendigos.

Wendigo: A wendigo is a spirit from Algonquian-speaking Native American/First Nation Tribes. I possesses and/or transforms people, giving them an insatiable craving for human flesh. The myths are particularly common in northern areas, where there can be intense winters. They are often used as a cautionary tale warning about greed, selfishness, and descent into savagery.

The original myths didn't really include an antlered creature. I think that might be a more modern pop-culture addition. They are supposed to look more like freaky emaciated people. The game Until Dawn has a pretty good depiction.

Which, coincidentally, resembles the cannibals in hazbin(more so than Alastor. So I don't think he's a wendigo). I doubt that was intentional, but I just think the coincidence is interesting. I can take inspiration from the appearance, but I won't be explicitly calling anyone a wendigo. I just figured it was worth addressing here.

(edit notes will go here if needed)

[micky-44-blog]

Alastor proposing

His own little mischievous ways of doing things

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

The dim glow of the underworld’s eternal twilight cast eerie shadows as Alastor led you to a secluded clearing, the air tingling with an almost electric anticipation. The usual static hum that followed him seemed quieter tonight, as if even his ever-present radio signals held their breath.

"Ah, my dearest, most delightful companion!" he declared, twirling dramatically before turning to you with a wide grin. "You know, I've been alive—well, undead—for quite some time, and in all those years, I've met many souls, danced many dances, and orchestrated my fair share of delightful chaos. But you..." His red eyes gleamed as he leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper. "You are the most fascinating melody in my otherwise monotonous broadcast!"

With a flick of his wrist, the world around you transformed. Shadows slithered into elegant shapes, forming a grand stage, while phantom jazz musicians appeared, instruments floating in the air as they began to play a slow, haunting tune. Then, with an exaggerated flourish, Alastor pulled something from his coat pocket—a ring, dark as obsidian but shimmering with an unnatural glow.

He knelt, his grin never faltering but his voice carrying an unusual softness. "Now, my dear, I've never been one for tradition, but for you? Why, I'd rewrite the whole script! So tell me, would you do me the absolute honor of being my eternal partner in crime, my most cherished duet, my fiancée?"

For a moment, the air was silent, waiting, watching. Even the ever-present background static seemed to hush, as if the entire underworld held its breath for your answer.

As soon as the word "Yes!" left your lips, the world around you seemed to burst into life. The phantom musicians erupted into a triumphant swing melody, the shadows swirled like a dancing audience, and the ever-present radio static crackled with excitement.

Alastor’s grin stretched impossibly wide, but for once, there was something else beneath it—something real. A flicker of raw emotion, deep and unfiltered, flashed in his crimson eyes. His usually manic energy softened just slightly as he took your hand, his touch surprisingly warm despite the spectral nature of his being.

"You have no idea how happy you've just made me, my darling~!" His voice quivered with something rare—genuine feeling. "Oh, what fun we shall have! A lifetime—no, an eternity—of mischief, madness, and you by my side!"

With a dramatic twirl, he lifted you into his arms, spinning you around as laughter—both his and yours—filled the air. The shadows twinkled like stars, and for a moment, Hell itself felt bright.

Then, as if sealing the deal, he slipped the dark, shimmering ring onto your finger. The moment it settled in place, a strange warmth pulsed from it, intertwining with your very soul. His grip tightened ever so slightly as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper.

"Mine," he murmured, but there was no possessiveness in it—only devotion, unyielding and eternal.

And as he pulled you into a dance beneath the ghostly glow of the underworld, you realized—there was no turning back. But then again, why would you ever want to?

[talonabraxas]

“Intuition is soul guidance, appearing naturally in man during those instants when his mind is calm. Nearly everyone has had the experience of an inexplicably correct ‘hunch’, or has transferred his thoughts effectively to another person. The human mind, free from the static of restlessness, can perform through its antenna of intuition all the functions of complicated radio mechanisms—sending and receiving thoughts and tuning out undesirable ones. As the power of a radio depends on the amount of electrical current it can utilise, so the human radio is energised according to the power of will possessed by each individual. All thoughts vibrate eternally in the cosmos. By deep concentration, a master is able to detect the thoughts of any mind, living or dead. Thoughts are universally and not individually rooted; a truth cannot be created, but only perceived. The erroneous thoughts of man result from imperfections in his discernment. The goal of yoga science is to calm the mind that without distortion it may mirror the divine vision in the universe.” ― Paramahansa Yogananda

Cosmic Vision Talon Abraxas

[ghoulishhx]

𖹭 she plays bass 𖹭

✮⋆˙ CHAPTER ONE ˙⋆✮

SLOW CHEMICAL

hi! this is my first ever fan fic, so go easy on me! will be updating after i write more :3

Chapter 2: I'm Your Biggest Fan

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle fem!reader

Warnings/tags: 18+, TW mentions of self loathing, self consciousness, suicidal thoughts. contains friends to lovers, slow burn, canon violence, fluff, angst, eventual smut (more tags may be added in the future!)

Summary: you and your bandmates (and best friends) move to New York for a change of scenery. you didn't think this adventure lead to you to him, the most dangerous man in America

Word Count: 1414

He’s there again tonight.

You and your band were playing another gig at Josies, just like you have done every Friday for the better part of a month now. You guys have been strapped for gigs, and were willing to take anything. Turns out, Josie’s drunkards on Friday night loved your stuff and you were asked to return every week. You don’t hate it, although the venue is tiny and it gets so crowded your social anxiety can't handle it. Anything to be able to play your music.

The First Friday

Arriving at Josie’s for the first time was definitely a culture shock. You’ve played gigs in bars before but there was a different energy here in Hell’s Kitchen. More bar fights than you can count, the rowdy tone of the New York accent filling your ears. You quickly adapt, putting in your ear buds to defend yourself from overstimulation, plugging in your bass and tuning her to standard, pulling your microphone closer ready to perform. Typically the bass player isn't the front-person of the band but nothing about you was typical. From your coloured hair to your piercings and tattoos, you looked good. Fucking great even, despite your self consciousness nitpicking at everything wrong with your appearance. You fit in being amongst these New Yorkers, even though the little voice in your head that's soul purpose is to shatter any amount of confidence you have is still there and present, you know in your soul there is nowhere else in the world you are supposed to be.

Stage nerves begin to set. This is a new venue, a new audience. What if they don’t like you? What if they throw rotten tomatoes at you and your friends? What if you get blacklisted from playing anywhere ever again and you have to spend the rest of your life working in the coffee shop? 

The sound of the drummer tapping his stick to the beat to count you in pulls you out of your trance.

Stop. Take a deep breath and play. This is what you’re meant to do, this is your calling.

Life is a waterfall, we’re one in the river and one again after the fall

Okay, you’re doing great, you're on key and you're playing the notes perfectly.

Swimming through the void we hear the word we lose ourselves, but we find it all

Nice, you didn’t fuck up the belt. You’re good and they’re loving it, bobbing their heads to the tune. You’re not surprised New Yorkers fuck with System of a Down

Aerials in the sky. When you lose small mind, you free your life.

Aerials, so up high. When you free your eyes, eternal prize.

The sound of applause fills your ears, after absolutely smashing Aerials you went on to have a great set, the whole crowd was eating it up. It was a lucky guess that Josie’s patrons love nu-metal. You look out to the crowd, grateful for their acceptance and that's when you see him for the first time sitting at the bar, beer bottle in hand and dark eyes locked on someone. 

On you.

The bar is dark, but not too dark to catch a glimpse of his face under the light of the bar. Chiseled face, a jawline that could cut diamonds. Plump, rosy lips. You watch as he flicks his tongue over to wet them before he takes another sip of his beer, all while holding eye contact with you. The expression on his face is unreadable, you can’t tell if he's angry or if that's just what he looks like. You truthfully don’t mind either way, you're entranced by him. His dark hair, beat up nose, rugged appearance and large frame encapsulate you. You offer him a small smile, parting your dark nude lips, you’re not sure where this confidence is coming from but there’s something about him that you feel drawn into. He catches your smile, raising an eyebrow and he offers a smirk back. He looks away as he smiles, eyes back on Josie behind the bar. You duck your head trying to conceal the blush creeping up your neck. When you look up his seat is empty and you watch him walk towards the door, his back to you and you can't help but ogle at him now you don't feel his eyes watching you. The shadows from the light bounce off his muscular back, the back of his head (you definitely did NOT imagine how it would feel wrapping your hands around the back of his head and pulling him closer to you) shaved to a military cut. He is/was a Marine maybe? Whatever you did, you couldn’t shake him from your mind. Unplugging your bass from the amp and tying up the jack cable you just couldn't get the image of him staring you down out of your mind. Your lead guitarist patting you on the back to get your attention barely snaps you out of your trance.

“Good fucking job girl, you absolutely crushed it out there,” she exclaims tucking her plectrum into her front jean pocket “Hello?? Is there anyone there?” waving her hand in front of your face.

“Oh, uhm yeah sorry! I got a little distracted” You look back towards the door, silently hoping he only went out for a cigarette or something, but if he IS a military man surely he wouldn’t smoke.. Or would he? I guess the job can be kind of stressful..

“Hey! You’re daydreaming again. Come back down to earth and help us pack up our shit. Faster we do this the faster we can celebrate!” 

“Sorry Luka, I’m here now.. Hey, did you happen to notice that guy sat at the ba-”

“The one who was basically fucking you with his eyes? Yeah bitch. Shame he left before he gave you a chance to tap that.”

You laugh and give her a friendly teasing push on her shoulder. At least you weren't making anything up about the way he was looking at you, you thought. Hopefully he’s there next week.

Today

Spoiler alert, he was. And he was there the week after that, and then the week after that which is today. You pretend to act all nonchalant as you walk up onto the small makeshift stage, knowing he was there again only added more anxiety for this performance. 

The past three weeks you’ve been too scared to approach him, the first after his abrupt disappearance you went home and fell asleep thinking of him and his eyes staring at you. The following weeks played out like the first, you both offering smiles to each other and him leaving after your set. You secretly hoped that this week he didn’t rush out so soon, just so you could carry on this staring affair. You were still far too anxious to approach him.

Right, snap out of it. You have a job to do. You put in your earbuds, plug in your bass and pull the microphone closer to you. Let’s do this shit.

The wonder of the world is gone, I know for sure

All the wonder that I want I found in her.

As the world becomes a part, I strike to burn

And no flame returns.

You don’t know what compelled you to perform Slow Chemical tonight, growing up with wrestling on the TV 24/7 probably subconsciously made you add it to the setlist. Growing up you were a HUGE Kane fan and then he.. Well, you know. 

You look out to the mystery man who’s been invading your mind for the past month, and there he is. Sat in his regular seat, drinking from his beer bottle and his eyes only on you. His eyes have a different look to them tonight, drawing you in even further than you were before.

Give me what I could never ask for

Connect me and you could be my chemical now

Give me the drug you know I’m after

Connect me and you could be my chemical

Applause. Another amazing set, you’ve grown accustomed to Josie’s at this point and Friday nights are the best part of your week. You take a deep breath and look over to him, he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring off into the wall behind the bar. You’re being eaten alive by the curiosity you have about him, tonight is the night.

You HAVE to learn more about him.

𖹭

[braindeathaoe]

Brain Death - An Oracle's End

“Welcome back, Oracle.”

Upcoming content will include but is not limited to: - Descriptions of extreme violence, gore & death - Substance Abuse (mainly consisting of alcohol)  - Parental Abuse/Neglect - Bullying/Ableism - Suicidal/Homicidal thoughts & tendencies  - Complete loss of self  - Brain Death This IF is rated 18+ and not suited for the faint of heart. The above content isn't condoned/glorified in any sense. Proceed at your own discretion.

~In continuing, I hereby acknowledge any exposure to that which I cannot handle is to the fault of none other than my own.~

——————————————————————————————————

Synopsis

It is the year 2099.

Encapsulating the very definition of Utopia, the city of Paradise is revered as a shining example of North Amerikas. And in 2 hours, it'll be destroyed—alongside every soul living within its walls. For anyone else, this would've been the ending to a pretty meaningless story.

Unfortunately for you, it's only the beginning.

The universe must hold a heavy grudge, as it's decided to trap you in a never-ending loop. Reduced to an unwilling observer, all you can do is watch helplessly as everything you care about is destroyed over, and over, and over. No matter what you do. In spite of what you say.

~Regardless of what I think...~

Forever.

You are Oracle: a cursed soul doomed to live, perish and repeat your miserable existence in an eternal limbo. Alone, forgotten, disregarded. You've witnessed the carnage countless times, explored as many avenues as humanly possible... The outcome never changes.

~It'll only get worse from here...~

Your end is fast approaching, and it doesn't look pleasant. Time is no longer on your side. Being trapped in this vacuum for as long as you have, you've started experiencing some horrifying side-effects. How many years of memories can the brain truly store?

That question may be answered soon.

S̴u̸c̵h̸ ̴a̷ ̴s̶h̴a̷m̷e̴ ̵t̶h̸a̵t̵ ̴n̷o̸b̷o̵d̵y̶ ̷w̵i̴l̴l̷ ̶b̷e̷ ̷a̷r̶o̶u̶n̷d̶ ̴t̵o̶ ̷h̷e̸a̷r̴ ̴i̷t̵.̷

——————————————————————————————————

Features

Create and customize your Oracle, developing their personality through dozens of choices!

Be AFAB or AMAB—decide your gender, appearance and pronouns!

Spend your 2 hours wisely by exploring the city of Paradise, meeting new people and utilizing your knowledge of past lives.

Eat a burger! (or multiple, who cares?)

Attend a cool festival and win mediocre prizes!

Uncover lost memories, and discover their relation to the present.

Solve the mystery keeping you trapped in this loop, or try to enjoy what little time is left.

Succumb to Brain Death.

——————————————————————————————————

Demo Release: Sometime 2025 (I FUCKIN HOPE)

——————————————————————————————————

Author's Note

Hello!

My name is Ricey! I'm the one writing this thing.

This is a passion project that I started out of discontent. In my personal opinion, there are a lot of interactive fictions out there that share similar problems.

Whether it be deciding for you how your character feels, what they say and do, or punishing players for not having the correct stats... It all feels so hollow and sometimes even immersion breaking.

(Don't get me wrong, sometimes there are plenty of upsides to a story to justify these "flaws". But the execution can be lacking, and unsatisfying. No hate!)

The goal of this IF is to give you, my dear reader, full creative control on how your character reacts, what they do with the information provided, and MOST IMPORTANTLY! To not tell you how they're feeling. That should be up to you to decide.

Of course, there will be exceptions to this rule. Some choices will trigger what I'm calling "Emotional States". And for narration purposes there may also be times that your Oracle feels frustration over something. But I will do my best to limit that.

Anyways, I'm done yapping for now. Stay hydrated! And stay tuned!

[librababe99]

Moments Between Time: Part Four

CW: brief mentions of trauma and aftermath of traumatic events Word Count: 1605 Summary: Logan awakens to a world transformed....

A/N: Because I was gone for a few days I decided to post back to back chapters for y'all! 😘😘😘 I really hope you've enjoyed the series thus far and I'm planning on uploading the FINAL part tomorrow at some point, so please stay tuned!

(Epilogue)

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Logan awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as he gasped for breath. For a moment, the shadows of the past clung to him, the memories of a world consumed by darkness and death. But as he blinked, the world around him began to take shape—bright, warm, and full of life. He was in a familiar room, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the wooden floorboards. The scent of fresh linen and the distant murmur of voices filled the air, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile silence of the future he had left behind.

His heart still raced as he sat up, the echoes of battle and loss fading but not forgotten. This was the mansion, the X-Mansion, but it was different. He could feel it in the air—a peace, a serenity that hadn’t existed in the timeline he had fought so hard to change. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Logan stood, his body tense with anticipation as he took in his surroundings. The room was simple, familiar in its layout, but the life that pulsed just beyond the walls was something he hadn’t felt in years.

He moved quickly, almost urgently, through the corridors of the mansion. The halls, once filled with the memories of battle and loss, were now alive with the sounds of laughter and conversation. Students hurried past him, their faces bright and unburdened by the horrors of war. Familiar faces appeared—Ororo, Hank, Jean—all smiling, unaware of the darkness that had been averted. It was surreal, this world that he had only dreamed of, and yet it felt achingly real.

But as Logan walked, his mind was focused on one thing: finding you. Each step felt like an eternity, the distance between you and him stretching out like a never-ending chasm. He pushed through the crowds, ignoring the curious glances and greetings, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. What if you weren’t here? What if the changes he had made hadn’t been enough?

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Logan found himself standing at the entrance to the mansion’s gardens. The sight before him took his breath away. The garden was bathed in the warm, golden light of the setting sun, the colors of the flowers and trees vibrant and alive. And there, standing amidst the beauty of the garden, was you.

You were gazing out at the sunset, your silhouette framed by the fiery orange and pink hues that painted the sky. The sight of you, so peaceful and serene, made Logan’s breath catch in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as if time itself had stopped. The world around him faded away, leaving only you, the one person he had fought so hard to protect.

Then, as if sensing his presence, you turned. Your eyes widened in surprise, the sunset casting a soft glow on your face. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, the weight of all that had been lost and regained hanging in the air between you.

“Logan…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a mix of disbelief and relief. It was all he needed to hear. In an instant, he was across the garden, pulling you into his arms with a force that spoke of desperation, of fear, and of an overwhelming need to hold you close.

The embrace was fierce, almost too tight, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you would vanish, a figment of a cruel dream. His heart pounded against your chest, and you could feel the trembling in his hands as he held you, the remnants of a fear so deep it had rooted itself in his very soul.

“You’re here,” Logan breathed, his voice rough, choked with emotion. “You’re really here.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him just as tightly, feeling the strength in his body and the vulnerability in his grip. “I’m here,” you murmured against his shoulder, your voice thick with tears you hadn’t realized were falling. “I’m right here, Logan.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The world around you seemed to hold its breath, the garden bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. The only sound was the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze and the steady thud of Logan’s heartbeat beneath your ear.

When he finally pulled back, it was only enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders as if to reassure himself that you were real. His eyes, usually so guarded, were filled with a storm of emotions—relief, joy, and a profound sadness that made your heart ache.

“You remember everything, don’t you?” you asked softly, reaching up to brush your fingers against his cheek. The stubble on his jaw was rough against your skin, a grounding sensation in this moment that felt too good to be true.

Logan nodded, his gaze intense as it locked onto yours. “Every damn thing,” he admitted, his voice low, gravelly. “The other timeline… It’s still in my head. I remember what happened, what you—what we went through.” His voice broke slightly, the words catching in his throat.

Your heart tightened at the pain in his voice, the memories of a world that no longer existed weighing heavy on both of you. You could see the haunted look in his eyes, the shadows of battles fought and lost, the ghosts of a future that had been wiped away.

“But it’s over now,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You did it, Logan. You saved us all. You saved me.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours, as if seeking reassurance, as if needing to believe that this moment, this world, was real. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, the fear and doubt that had gripped him loosening their hold. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he let out a shaky breath.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “You kept me sane when everything else was falling apart.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, the depth of his gratitude and love hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. You could feel the weight of the future that had been averted, the sacrifices made, the battles fought and won. But here, in this moment, with Logan’s arms around you and the sun setting in the sky, you felt a peace that you hadn’t known in a long time.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I would have done if—” You broke off, the thought too painful to finish.

Logan’s grip tightened on you, his voice a low rumble as he spoke. “You don’t have to think about that. We’re here, now, together. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you fought back the tears threatening to spill over. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart—a sound that grounded you, reminded you that this was real, that he was real.

For a long while, you stood there together, the sunset painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. The garden around you was quiet, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The peace of the moment was almost surreal, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had defined your lives for so long.

But even in this peace, you could feel the undercurrent of all that had been lost and regained, the scars that would never fully heal. You knew that Logan carried those scars too, that the weight of what could have been would always linger in the background.

Finally, Logan pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he looked at you with a softness that made your heart ache. “I never thought I’d get to see this,” he admitted, his voice low. "It almost doesn’t feel real.”

You smiled softly, reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair, the familiar gesture comforting in its simplicity. “It’s real, Logan. We’re here, and we have a future—a future we can build together.”

Logan’s eyes softened at your words, the tension in his body finally beginning to melt away. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “A future together,” he repeated, the words a quiet promise.

As the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, you stood there in the garden, wrapped in each other’s arms. The darkness of the past still lingered, but it no longer held the same power over you. Together, you had faced the worst the world had to offer and emerged stronger for it.

And now, as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you looked toward the future with hope—a hope that had been hard-won, a hope that you and Logan would nurture together.

No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face anything. And in that moment, with the world at peace and the future full of possibilities, you allowed yourselves to simply be—to cherish the life you had fought so hard to protect, and to find solace in the love that had brought you back together.

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Taglist: @hughverine @itzyahgirllkita1 @nonamevenus @angelofthorr @swthxrry @ayamenimthiriel @charlyrmv @alex21705 @penguinsravioli @mxtokko

[krishna-sangini]

That Midnight (Pt.2)

The temple courtyard buzzed with excited squeals and soft giggles as the girls rose to their feet, anticipation shimmering in their eyes. They stood before the idol, some clutching puja ghantis, their hearts brimming with devotion. Their beloved Keshav gazed back at them, his flute poised as if he might play a divine tune at any moment, drawing them closer to his enchanting presence.

Manyataa carefully lifted the puja thali, her movements slow and reverent. “Ready, y’all?” she asked, her voice a gentle whisper as she glanced back. Her friends, eyes gleaming, nodded eagerly, their hearts beating in unison.

Turning back to face the idol, Manyataa began circling the thali with steady hands. As the sacred flames flickered, the girls' voices rose in unison, filling the temple with a melody that transcended time.

"कृष्ण, मनमोहना, मोरे कान्हा, मोरे कृष्ण..."

"कृष्ण, मनमोहना, मोरे प्रियवर, मोरे कृष्ण..."

The temple echoed with their devotion, the sound of the ghantis and the rhythmic claps of the girls weaving through the air, adding a scent of spiritual love to the moment. Love that knew no limit, love that transcended every boundary. Each note they sang was a prayer, each word a wish from the depths of their souls.

Manyataa set the thali aside, her heart swelling with emotion. She took a handful of flowers, and her friends followed, their hands trembling with the intensity of their devotion. Together, they showered the idol with fragrant petals, their faces glowing with pure, unfiltered joy. Tears welled up in their eyes, blurring their vision, but in that haze, only the idol remained vivid, alive. For a fleeting second, they wondered—had he moved?

“जैसी मन में छवि, तुम वैसे मोरे कृष्ण...”

Their voices cracked with emotion, yet they sang on, driven by a love that knew no bounds. Then, as if answering their call, a melodious flute joined their song, intertwining with their voices and the tinkle of the ghantis, elevating the moment to something beyond the earthly realm.

The girls froze in place, their voices silenced, eyes wide with disbelief. Tears streamed down their cheeks, but they made no move to wipe them away. This had to be a dream—a figment of their deepest desires—yet it felt so achingly real. Before each of them, in the soft glow of the temple mashaals, stood their beloved, their Kanha.

He was everything they had ever imagined Him to be. For some, He appeared as the naughty teen, a playful smile dancing on His lips, eyes twinkling with that familiar, endearing mischief. For others, He was the youthful lover, mature and serene yet still carrying a glint of divine playfulness that made their hearts flutter. And for some, He stood as the majestic King of Dwarka, resplendent in all His glory, His aura commanding reverence and awe.

Each girl saw Him just as she had always held Him in her heart, a perfect reflection of her soul’s deepest yearning. It was as if the divine had stepped out of their prayers, their dreams, their songs, and taken form before them—just as they had sung moments ago: “The way we picture you in our heart, you’re the exact same way.”

The girls stood in disbelief, some staggering back a step while some taking a step forward. The ethereal tune of the flute never left them. He stood before them, not as a distant deity but as the Kanha who knew them intimately, who had been with them all along. The veil between the divine and the mortal had lifted, and from that very moment, they were each alone, with nobody around them except their eternal love, their Krishna.

“Ke-Keshav… is it truly… you?” Baanhi’s voice quivered, barely a whisper, as her breath caught in her throat. Her hand instinctively flew to her lips as if to stifle the overwhelming emotions rising within her. The other reached out, trembling, toward the figure before her—her Keshav. But the temple had melted away, and in its place, they now stood by the riverbank. The cool breeze danced with the fragrance of blossoms, their petals strewn like lost dreams across the soft meadow. Moonlight draped everything in a gentle, silvery glow as if even the heavens had paused, holding their breath to witness this fragile reunion.

Tears brimmed in her wide, astonished eyes, sparkling with disbelief, joy, and a love so deep it ached in her chest. They slipped silently down her flushed cheeks, each tear reflecting the longing that had devoured her heart through endless nights and restless dreams. And then… that smile. That breathtaking, familiar curve of His lips, the very one she had searched for in every corner of her soul, in every whispered prayer. It shattered the boundaries of time and space.

Without a word, He stepped closer. His warmth enveloped her as His hand found hers, soft and strong, grounding her to this delicate reality that still felt like a dream. His thumb gently caressed the back of her hand, sending shivers through her as their fingers entwined.

“And why, Baanhi,” He murmured, His voice a deep, velvet whisper, the sound resonating through her very soul, “would you ever doubt that it is me?”

Meanwhile, across the tranquil beach, where the ocean's waves whispered softly against the shore and the moonlight bathed the sands in a shimmering silver glow, Dhruvi collapsed to her knees. Her body trembled as a sob broke free, raw and filled with longing. “My Lord…” The words escaped her lips like a broken plea, fragile and aching, as she stared up at Him—the Dwarkadhish—her Dwarkadhish. His form, majestic and timeless, stood bathed in moonlight, a vision both familiar and distant.

With a tenderness that pierced through her despair, His hand extended toward hers, the touch light yet unwavering, steady as the tides that kissed the shore. Her heart stilled when their hands met, His fingers warm against her cold, trembling ones. His eyes—deep and endless—locked with hers, filled with a love so tender it seemed to encompass all of time and space. It was the kind of love that transcended words.

“Yes, it’s me,” He said softly, His voice wrapping around her heart like a balm, mending the fractures of her soul. But then, the corners of His lips curved into that teasing smile, the one that had always undone her. “Only, I’m not your Lord. I’m your sakha.”

His words washed over her, breaking through the dam of disbelief that had held her in place. Dhruvi blinked, her breath catching as she felt the weight of her doubts dissolve into nothingness. Slowly, almost as if in a dream, He bent down and took her hand, pulling her gently to her feet. His touch lingered, firm yet delicate, grounding her to this moment—this reunion—while making her feel like she was floating, her feet barely brushing the cool, moonlit sand.

Their fingers intertwined, His thumb tracing soft circles over her knuckles, a silent reassurance that He was here, real and near. As they walked, side by side along the shore, she felt the warmth of His presence seep into her, cradling her heart in a serenity she hadn’t known in what felt like lifetimes. Her head dipped slightly toward Him, and without thinking, she leaned against His shoulder, the closeness bringing a peace she never knew she needed.

At the same time, in a garden that seemed to breathe with the sweet scent of flowers and sandalwood wafting through the air, Saanjh walked beside Him. Her hand rested securely in His, their fingers intertwined. The vibrant blossoms swayed in the evening breeze as if bowing to the very Lord of the universe. Yet, her heart raced, a storm of disbelief and wonder churning inside her. Her fingers tightened slightly around His, still unsure, reeling from the impossibility of it all.

She stole a glance at Him, the breathtaking face she had only dared to see in dreams—dreams that had blinded her in the quiet of the night, where the line between reverence and yearning blurred. How could He be here, beside her, as if this moment was plucked straight from those sacred imaginings?

Her voice was a soft whisper, trembling with the weight of a thousand unsaid questions. “Was it really you… who tugged my hair back then in the temple?” The words slipped from her lips like a half-forgotten secret, the incredulity in her heart too great to contain.

He turned, glancing over His shoulder with that familiar, playful smile—the one that had always undone her, the one that held galaxies of mischief and affection all at once. His eyes sparkled with knowing mirth. “And what’s so hard to believe about that?” He teased, His voice light and melodic, a soft chuckle woven into each word.

Saanjh’s heart stuttered, her breath catching as she looked up at Him, her gaze searching His face for answers that her mind still couldn’t comprehend. The darling of Vrindavan. The one who had stolen the hearts of millions, now standing by her side as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

After strolling a bit more, the Manmohan settled beside her after Madanmohini got comfortable on the swing, her fingers tracing the jute rope. Without a word, He gently pushed the swing into a soft, soothing rhythm. The familiar creak of the wood intertwined with the rustling leaves and the distant hum of night creatures, creating a melody only nature could compose. Her gaze drifted toward Him, lingering longer than it should have. There was something almost paradoxical about His simplicity—how could someone who held the entire cosmos in His hands appear so unassuming? Yet, the magic He wove was undeniable, pulling at her in ways words failed to describe. He was her enchanter, her safe harbour, the one whose mere presence could still be the tempest in her mind.

His chuckle broke the silence, soft yet brimming with mischief. "Sakhi," He teased, eyes glimmering with a knowing spark, "you're going to make me blush with all those thoughts."

His voice snapped her out of the trance she hadn’t realised she’d slipped into. Her heart skipped a beat as warmth rushed to her cheeks. Hastily, she tore her gaze away and fixed it on the ground. She swallowed hard, her hands suddenly too aware of themselves as one of them nervously gripped the swing’s rope, and the other lay on her lap.

A beat of hesitation passed, the words catching in her throat before she found the courage to speak. "Kanha," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the breeze playing through the trees. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," He replied, without missing a beat. His voice, soft and velvety, seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, coaxing her closer. And before she knew it, His arm slid effortlessly around her shoulders, drawing her nearer. The swing creaked in gentle protest as the space between them disappeared, and her heart thudded against her chest, loud enough she was certain He could hear it.

Samridhi took a slow, deliberate breath as she finally voiced the question that had haunted her for what seemed like lifetimes. “Why… why did you choose me? What have I done to deserve the honour of being in your presence? I’m just a mere mortal…”

Her voice faltered as she finished. Krishna, ever serene, responded with that familiar smile that seemed to hold the universe within it, His eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.

“You’ve always been in my presence, sakhi,” He replied, His tone light and teasing, as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you remember all those conversations we’ve had in your room?” He chuckled softly, His gaze soft yet playful. “We talked just yesterday.”

Samridhi’s eyes widened as a wave of heat rose, and memories of her private, unfiltered ramblings to His little idol flashed before her. The soft breeze toyed with two strands of hair, brushing them across her face, but in her flustered state, she made no move to brush them away.

“So… you hear everything I say to you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of wonder and mortification colouring her tone.

Krishna’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, His eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “Everything.” He said, the single word laced with warmth, as if He cherished every awkward confession, every tearful prayer, every laugh she’d shared with His idol. His hand moved gently, almost lazily, as He reached out and tucked the loose strands behind her ear, His touch light as a feather yet sending a shiver coursing through her spine.

“But…” she started, her voice wavering. She forced herself to continue, even as her gaze dropped to the ground, unable to hold His anymore. “What have I ever done to deserve this? To see you like this, so divine… yet standing before me as though we’re equals?” Her voice cracked, soft and broken. “I’m just… just a sinner. Materialistic and flawed.”

The Murari paused mid-swing, his gentle laughter fading as He gracefully dismounted. Standing before Garima, who now seemed more uncertain and apprehensive, He took her trembling hands in His, urging her with a soft nudge to lift her gaze and meet His eyes.

“Love,” He said, His voice as soothing as a summer breeze. Garima’s brows furrowed in confusion. The Girivar chuckled softly. Helping her off the swing, He led her to the nearby lake, its surface shimmering with the moon’s delicate reflection. They settled on the grass, Garima instinctively keeping a respectful distance.

But before she could retreat too far, He sighed and pulled her gently closer, His touch warm and reassuring.

“You love me, sakhi,” He began. “You love me as if I am your everything. Despite being part of this material world, you never fail to include me—whether in your pain or your joy. And yes, you may stumble," He smiled, "but it’s in those very moments that I walk beside you.”

The Natwar wrapped His arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the comfort of His presence. Together, they stared at the moonlit water, the ripples gently distorting the silver reflection, mirroring the complexities of Garima’s emotions.

“But…” Garima’s voice wavered, barely more than a whisper, as she cowered beneath His touch. “You’re the Lord of the Universe, not my friend… I shouldn’t be treating you as I do, with such familiarity…”

Krishna's smile grew tender, brimming with warmth that seemed to wrap Agrata in an invisible embrace. His head tilted slightly, and with a soft glance, He caught her gaze. His eyes, bright as the stars mirrored in the calm waters, sparkled with an understanding beyond mortal grasp. “Why shouldn’t you, hmm? Have I ever asked for anything more than your heart?”

The girl opened her mouth, her voice barely a whisper, “But…”

“Ssh,” Krishna’s gentle voice cut through her hesitation. “No ‘but’s, sakhi. Hear me.”

His words, soft but unyielding, silenced her doubts.

“Love today is tossed around like it's something ordinary. People have forgotten its sanctity. They barter it and use it as a label for fleeting passions or selfish desires. But love… love is sacred, rare, untouched by the ego or the world’s expectations.” His eyes softened even more, overflowing with affection as He gently took her trembling hand in His. “You, sakhi, have loved me like my gopis did, with a heart pure and full…”

Agrata’s chest tightened, her emotions swirling between disbelief and the depth of His love. She shook her head, blinking back the tears that welled up in her eyes. “You’re… you’re exaggerating…” Her voice broke as she glanced up, meeting His gaze, deep and eternal like the vast universe holding her fragile heart.

The Murlidhar's smile deepened, and with a playful shake of His head, He reclined back, propping His head on one hand, laying comfortably on the soft earth. With the other, He gently patted the space beside Him, beckoning her closer. Agrata hesitated, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks, but under His knowing gaze, she slowly settled down beside Him.

For a moment, the world was wrapped in a quiet stillness. Above them, the night sky stretched out, vast and starry. Then, with exaggerated seriousness, Krishna sighed, His eyes sparkling with mischief. “You girls… all of you,” He began, shaking His head as if bearing the weight of their endless insecurities. “Always so unsure, always doubting yourselves.”

Manyataa gave a sheepish shrug, her gaze wandering up to the stars, a small, guilty smile tugging at her lips.

The silence hung between them, lingering like a heartbeat. Then, His rich, velvety voice filled the air again. “Tell me,” He said, His body shifting. With a graceful movement, He turned onto His side, propping His head up with one hand, His gaze now locked onto hers. Full of warmth and affection, his eyes sought hers like a beacon. “Why do you think you don’t deserve me?”

The sudden closeness caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath faltering as she stared back at Him, startled by the intensity of His gaze. She hadn’t expected Him to face her like this—so direct, so tender. Her heart raced as if trying to keep pace with the moment.

“Dear God…” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely a whisper.

Krishna’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Yes?” He teased, eyes gleaming with boyish charm.

Her face flushed a deep red, heat rising to her cheeks as she stammered, flustered by both His teasing and His nearness. “I-I mean…” she struggled, her words caught in her throat. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside her chest. “So, uh… what did you ask again?”

Krishna’s laughter, soft and deep, rumbled through the still night. He leaned in slightly, the amusement in His eyes never fading.

“I asked,” He repeated slowly, savouring each word as if giving her time to settle, “Why do you think you don’t deserve me?”

Kesar pushed herself up to sit straight; her hands fumbled with the delicate hem of her lehenga. She exhaled shakily, trying to gather her words. “Well… there are so many reasons…” Her voice was soft but strained. “You do so much for me. You’re there with me in every step of my life; you lull me to sleep when I’m spiralling into darkness; you calm me down when I’m on the verge of breaking. You remind me that you’re there when I'm lost and hopeless, even when I can’t feel you.”

She paused, eyes downcast, her fingers tightening their grip on her lehenga. “But I… I haven’t done anything for you… nothing worthy. I haven’t ever given you proper offerings like other sincere devotees. I try to tell myself that my love is enough, that it can compensate… but even then, I don’t know if I love you the right way. What if it’s not enough? What if my love doesn’t even reach you—”

Before she could finish, His warm hand pressed gently over her mouth. Her heart skipped as she looked up at him, startled by the sudden gesture.

Her Kanha’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and his lips pressed into a thin smile. He leaned in as he spoke in a playful reprimand. “Don’t you dare doubt my sakhi like that ever again, okay?”

Kesar’s face fell, her gaze dropping as she gave a faint, unconvincing nod. Kanha cupped her chin gently, tilting her face upward until her eyes met His.

“Okay?” he repeated, his voice filled with quiet insistence.

Kesar’s breath hitched, her throat tightening as she looked into his gaze—endless pools of love and reassurance, with no room for doubt. “Okay…” she whispered, her voice small, but the hint of belief slowly creeping in, as if his presence could make her start believing again.

The Natwar got up, pulling the Soni after Him. He then started leading her by her hand, and the girl followed behind Him wordlessly.

“Is our love supposed to be transactional?” came His question as He glanced down at her.

“No, but I should at least-”

“No ‘but’s,” He interrupted, a playful firmness in His tone. He pulled her hand gently, coaxing her to walk beside Him, their steps falling in rhythm. “I don’t love my devotees because of their offerings. It’s not the jewellery or the fine clothes they bring that make me care. I love them because they carry love in their hearts and have made space for me there. My affection doesn’t hinge on gold or gems—it thrives in the simplicity of a heart that loves freely.”

“I care about every soul, but I can’t help but be a little biased toward those who simply love me. That’s where the magic is. Old, familiar love, effortless and easy.” He paused, casting a sideways glance at her. “I’ve seen the way your eyes light up just thinking of me. I’ve felt the flutter in your heart when you speak to me. I’ve known, felt, and cherished your love forever, sakhi. I couldn’t ask for more. Your love is all I need to love you and do everything I do for you.”

As Krishna finished speaking, He turned to glance at the girl walking beside Him, only to find her cheeks flushed red and her eyes shimmering with tears. As a few droplets escaped, streaking down her cheeks, she tried to hide them, hurriedly bringing her dupatta to her face, dabbing at the tears.

Krishna’s lips curved into a knowing smile, warm and full of affection. A deep, melodic chuckle escaped Him. Soni’s breath hitched as she fought to regain control, but Krishna’s laughter only deepened, not out of amusement but out of pure, unfiltered joy. His hand, still holding hers, gave a gentle squeeze—a silent reassurance, a reminder that her tears, her love, her emotions were all safe with Him.

“Well, well, well,” said the Manohar in His usual playful demeanour, “it’s time.”

Time for what, Kanha?” questioned a confused Soni.

His eyes shone with that familiar playfulness as he muttered, “Maharaas.”

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And they were all back in the temple premises, in the majestic courtyard, which was now fragrant with elegant blossoms that shone under the moonlight. Their lehengas sparkled brighter than before; their anklets jingled more melodiously than ever. Their hearts raced in a rhythm they had never known, each beat louder, more desperate as if their souls were on the verge of breaking free from the confines of their bodies. A sense of bliss, raw and overwhelming, enveloped them, making them feel both weightless and anchored at the same time.

And there He stood, amid it all—His eyes tender, filled with a love so deep it seemed to engulf the entire universe. He gazed at each of them, not as individuals, but as His entire world. Every doubt, every question they had harboured vanished at that moment. It was true. He was there, as real as the moonlight that caressed their faces, and the immense love they felt for Him paled to the boundless love He reflected at them. It was infinite, eternal—so much more than they had ever dreamed possible.

The girls were lost—completely oblivious to the world around them. They did not notice the moonlight casting its silver veil over the temple courtyard, nor the gentle breeze whispering through the trees, nor even the sweet perfume of midnight blooms that filled the air. Nothing mattered except Him. He ruled their senses with an overwhelming presence, pulling them into a realm where only He existed. His yellow attire glowed like the morning sun, His sandalwood scent wrapped around them like a promise, and His touch, soft yet commanding, spoke of an eternal bond beyond comprehension.

He was everything. To Baanhi, He was her Keshav. To Dhruvi, He was Dwarkadhish. To Manyataa, He was Krishn, the anchor of her heart. Samridhi’s Only One, Soni’s beloved Kanhu, Madanmohini’s Enchanter—each girl saw in Him the embodiment of their deepest devotion. Garima’s Supreme Lord, Saanjh’s Kanhaiya, Agrata’s Beloved, Kesar’s Manmohan—He stood before each of them, uniquely theirs, yet timelessly the same.

The girls didn't realise when a hauntingly beautiful flute melody floated into the air, like a song from another world. It wove through the wind, mingling with the rustling leaves, the distant murmur of the river, and the soft chime of temple bells. Nature itself seemed to bow to Him, joining in a symphony that pulled the girls out of the confines of the physical world. And without even realizing it, they began to move—lifting their hands, twirling in slow, graceful arcs around Him, their Universe. Their souls danced in perfect harmony with the melody, as if they were not merely mortals, but celestial beings orbiting their Krishna.

And then, as if the very Earth called them back, He reached out, His strong hands gently pulling them toward Him. Each girl was grounded only by His touch—yet even then, it felt as though He held not just their hands, but their very souls.

Though they stood in a circle, Saanjh could not see Baanhi’s Keshav. Garima couldn’t see Manyataa’s Krishn, nor could Madanmohini see Dhruvi’s Dwarkadhish. Each could only see their own Krishna, who now gazed into their eyes with a look so captivating, so full of divine love, that it took their breath away. With a smile that promised eternity, He twirled them again, one by one, each spinning deeper into His embrace, deeper into the overwhelming bliss of being His.

The ten girls danced in perfect harmony, hand-in-hand with their Universe, their feet moving as one in an effortless rhythm. They were no longer aware of themselves or the world around them, lost entirely to the bliss of His presence. Yet, despite being beyond their senses, their movements were flawlessly in sync. Each twirl, each graceful pose, blended seamlessly into the next, as if guided by a force greater than any of them—a divine choreography written in their souls.

They danced not just with their bodies, but with their hearts, their spirits. Every step was an expression of their boundless love for Him—the One who held them, who spun them into an eternal dance where time ceased to exist. His presence bound them together, the invisible thread that linked their hearts in perfect unison. They were no longer individuals, but a single entity, moving as one, their devotion and surrender reflected in every movement.

Each girl felt Him with them, His hand gently leading hers, His eyes locking with hers, and in that moment, she knew she was His. Their feet glided over the ground as though it were air, their bodies weightless, carried by the power of their love. And though they danced together, each girl knew her bond with Him was sacred, unique. They spun through the night, their lehengas flowing like liquid light, merging with the moonlight and the music of the flute that still filled the air.

It wasn’t just a dance—it was a communion, a moment where the veil between the mortal and the divine had lifted, and they, hand-in-hand with their Krishna, had become a part of something eternal, something pure and infinite. The Universe moved with them, within them, and for this brief, beautiful moment, they were no longer bound by anything but their love for Him.

How long they danced, they couldn’t say. Time had ceased to exist in that sacred moment. It felt like an eternity, yet passed in the blink of an eye. At the end of their divine dance, the Murlidhar stopped in front of each girl, His hand warm around theirs, pulling them close. His eyes, deep and all-knowing, locked with theirs, and He smiled—each smile uniquely meant for the girl before Him. The world fell away as the girls stared back, their hearts overflowing with bliss. Tears of pure joy slipped down their flushed cheeks, but they didn’t care. Nothing mattered now, except their Govind.

Then, in a moment so intimate, so unexpected, He drew each of His partners into a divine embrace. The girls were stunned—could this be real? The Lord of the Universe, their Krishna, holding them as if they were His own, as if they had always belonged to Him. Disbelief filled their hearts for a breathless second, but then, as His warmth wrapped around them, realization dawned. The truth they had always known deep inside surfaced—this was no dream. He was theirs, and they were His. Completely, eternally. In His arms, they weren’t Samridhi, Agrata, or Kesar—they were simply His sakhis. His beloved companions who existed for no one but Him.

“I love you, sakhi,” He whispered softly into each girl’s ear, His voice like a soothing melody only they could hear. “Just as you have claimed me with your love, I have claimed you today. You are mine, and mine only.” His words were more than promises—they were the very foundation of their souls, binding them to Him forever. “I will be with you always, in every second of your life,” He continued, His arms tightening as if He never wanted to let go.

The girls, overwhelmed, melted deeper into His embrace, surrendering completely to the moment, eyes pressed shut. His presence filled them, every doubt, every longing vanished. His voice became a whisper, barely audible now, as He leaned in closer, His breath warm against their skin. “This isn’t goodbye,” He murmured. “We will meet again, just like this. Until then, speak to me through the little idol in your room. I am always with you.”

The girls could barely breathe, their hearts beating in rhythm with His words. They were no longer bound by time, space, or the limitations of the world. In that hug, they had found their eternity. They had found their everything in Him—their Krishna, their forever.

As they opened their eyes, the warmth of His embrace faded, replaced by a new, yet familiar sensation. They were no longer in their Kanha’s arms—but in each other’s. Slowly, reality settled in, though the glow of His love lingered in their hearts. Kesar gently released her hold on Dhruvi, and Madanmohini let go of Soni, their fingers still trembling from the divine touch. A soft, joyful sob escaped Manyataa as she reached for Baanhi, their hands tenderly wiping away each other’s tears, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had just enveloped them.

Samridhi and Agrata, eyes brimming with unshed tears, exchanged a knowing look. There was no need for words—their smiles spoke volumes. Saanjh and Garima, still holding hands, turned to the others, their faces radiant with the same unspoken truth.

As they stood there, the ten of them, surrounded by the remnants of that divine moment, they didn’t need to say anything. Their souls were already communicating, speaking a language they had never learned but had always known—the language of His Love. It was a bond deeper than words, stronger than any earthly connection. Each girl could see it reflected in the other’s eyes—the same love, the same devotion, the same feeling of having been chosen by Him.

They never thought it was possible to fall deeper in love with a being they already cherished so profoundly. Yet here they were, standing in that sacred space, lost in His love, tangled in it, freed by it, and ascended through it. Every breath they took felt lighter, every heartbeat a reminder that they belonged to Him now and He to them. His presence had intertwined their hearts, leaving them forever bound to one another through the love of their Krishna.

They had been touched by the infinite, and in that touch, they had found something eternal. Together, they had transcended, their spirits united in the only truth that mattered—His love, which was endless, unshakeable, and all-encompassing. And as they looked around at one another, tears mingling with smiles, they knew they would carry this love for the rest of their lives, forever tethered to the One who made their souls dance.

************************************

IT'S DONE! IT'S FINALLY DONE! Sorry for taking so long T_T

@saanjh-ki-dulhan @krsnaradhika @chaliyaaa @saanjhghafa @krishnaaradhika @ramayantika @tumharisakhi @sumiyxx @vishnavishivaa @rantingabtmyman @willbedecided @braj-raj

[s-soulwriter]

Dark ideas for your book

(promts)

The Eclipsed City: In a dystopian future, a city is perpetually shrouded in darkness due to a rare cosmic event. Within its shadows, a mysterious cult thrives, promising salvation to those who embrace the eternal night.

Spectral Inheritance: A family cursed with the ability to see and communicate with ghosts is haunted by a malevolent spirit that seeks to manipulate them into committing unspeakable acts.

The Silence Plague: A mysterious illness sweeps across the world, causing those afflicted to lose the ability to speak. As society collapses, a group of survivors must navigate the eerie quietness and unravel the origins of the plague.

Cabinet of Wonders: An eccentric collector amasses a macabre assortment of cursed artifacts. When a group of thieves attempts to steal from the collection, they unwittingly unleash ancient evils upon the world.

The Labyrinthine Asylum: A renowned psychologist opens an asylum for the criminally insane, but as he delves into the minds of the patients, he discovers a shared, otherworldly experience that threatens to consume them all.

The Dollmaker's Obsession: A toymaker creates eerily lifelike dolls imbued with the souls of the deceased. As the dolls begin to exhibit disturbing behavior, the townspeople must confront the consequences of meddling with the afterlife.

The Whispering Woods: A forest is rumored to house a malevolent entity that preys on the deepest fears of those who enter. A group of friends camping in the woods must confront their inner demons as reality warps around them.

Mirror, Mirror: A cursed mirror reflects not the physical appearance but the innermost desires of those who gaze into it. As individuals succumb to their obsessions, the mirror's dark power grows stronger.

The Forgotten Carnival: A long-abandoned carnival mysteriously reopens, drawing in unsuspecting visitors. However, the attractions harbor supernatural secrets that force patrons to face their darkest fears.

Phantom Limbs: After a groundbreaking medical procedure, patients begin to experience the sensation of phantom limbs that seem to have a life of their own, leading to a series of grisly and unexplainable events.

The Clockwork Curse: A clockmaker crafts a series of intricate, cursed timepieces that manipulate the lives of their owners. As time unravels, the characters must race against the clock to break the curse.

The Wretched Symphony: In a haunted opera house, a composer unwittingly writes a masterpiece that channels the anguish of tormented spirits. The music's power transcends the stage, causing supernatural disturbances throughout the city.

The Soul Market: A hidden market emerges where people can buy and sell souls. Those who partake soon discover the horrifying consequences of trading away their essence.

Tunnels of Despair: A series of mysterious tunnels are discovered beneath a small town, leading to an ancient chamber that houses a malevolent force capable of manifesting the fears of anyone who enters.

The Crimson Masquerade: At a masquerade ball, attendees wearing cursed masks find themselves trapped in a surreal realm where their darkest secrets are revealed, leading to a night of intrigue, betrayal, and horror.

The Oracle's Prophecy: A gifted oracle foretells a series of apocalyptic events, and a group of unlikely heroes must decipher the cryptic messages to prevent the end of the world.

The Coven's Conspiracy: In a secluded village, a coven of witches enacts a dark ritual to unleash a powerful ancient entity. As the villagers begin to vanish, a lone investigator must confront the supernatural forces at play.

The Unseen Gallery: An artist creates paintings that come to life, each depicting a nightmarish realm. As the paintings multiply, they threaten to merge the real world with their grotesque dimensions.

The Haunting Melody: A cursed melody is passed down through generations, causing madness and death to those who hear it. A musician discovers the haunting tune and must find a way to break the curse before it claims more lives.

The Apothecary's Concoction: A mysterious apothecary brews elixirs that grant extraordinary abilities, but at a cost. As users become addicted to the potions, they spiral into madness, leading to a city on the brink of collapse.

[lav-is-writing]

Hey hey, So, I saw that you also write for a Date with Death as well?

I was wondering about this prompt for or a while now and was wondering if it was possible for you to write something regarding it?

Prompt: Sunshine Showing Caspter/Grim the song 'Don't fear the Reaper' by the Blue Oyster Cult and his general reaction to the song, before sunshine explains that it's actually a love song between the the singer (Aka: the Reaper) and his love and how their love is an eternal thing.

🌅- anon

(thank you for reading, have a nice day/night- and amazing work with the Angst prompt for Ronin from Killer Chat BTW. I Was actually surprised that someone requested a happy ending for it! )

This sucks so bad, I'm so sorry. Writers block has been weighing down on me, and I'm not good at music prompts such as these. If you don't like it, you can message me or send another ask and I will rewrite it immediately!! I also wrote this while sleep deprived, so there will likely be some mistakes.

Don't Fear The Reaper

Warnings: Song is used- 'Don't fear the Reaper' by Blue Oyster Cult, this isn't very good, I'm sorry, the amount of deaths daily is wrong as well

You nodded, a wide grin plastered on your face as you grabbed your phone, shoving some headphones towards him. Casper grimaced at the color, a bright pink that felt as if it were burning his eyes. Seeing his reaction, giggles escaped you as he turned to glare, yet complied and put the monstrosity on his head. Unpausing the music, you let Casper listen.

The tune started quietly, gradually growing louder as the seconds passed. A man’s voice, soft and light, was heard by Casper as the man started to sing. 

“All our times have come.”

“Here but now they’re gone.”

Casper sighed, shaking his head. Why did you even make him do this? It was just a stupid song- nothing more. And yet, you had chosen it with him in mind, so for now, he would trust you.

“Seasons don’t fear the reaper.”

Tensing, Casper dared a glance at you. Seasons not fearing the reaper? It didn’t make any sense to him. You chuckled, placing a finger over your lips and refusing to elaborate on what the lyrics meant. 

He ignored the next few lines, finding them unnecessary to deciphering the song that you had given him. That is, until the chorus started. 

“Come on, baby.”

“Don't fear the reaper.”

“Baby, take my hand.”

“Don't fear the reaper.”

“We'll be able to fly.”

“Don't fear the reaper.”

“Baby, I'm your man.”

“I should be feared-”

“Stop being emo-!”

Casper scoffed, crossing his arms. So it was something to do with reapers, and the singer was saying to whoever he was talking to “Don’t fear the reaper”. Why? Was he going to die and have his soul snatched away by someone? Perhaps he was having to leave someone, or was someone else dying? Scowling, his hand darted out to grab the phone and shut off the song. You grabbed his wrist before he could, pouting as the song went on. 

“Valentine is done.”

“Here but now they're gone.”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

“Are together in eternity.”

“40, 000 men and women everyday.”

“40, 000 men and women everyday.”

“Another 40, 000 coming everyday.”

His eyes widened, mouth opening slightly as he took in the words. 40,000 people everyday. Casper knew what that meant- the amount of souls reaped daily, the amount of deaths that filled the underworld. And comparing them to Romeo and Juliet? Was it supposed to be seen as romantic? A love that transcended living, one that carried into death? Death was inevitable- was the song saying that it was foolish to fear it since people faced it all the time?

The chorus passed again, and your hand had found Casper’s, intertwining your fingers together as the last few verses started. 

“Love of two is one.”

“Here but now they're gone.”

“Came the last night of sadness.”

“And it was clear she couldn't go on.”

Someone was dying. That was clear in the song. Did that mean that the reaper would be-?

“Then the door was open and the wind appeared.”

“The candles blew and then disappeared.”

“The curtains flew and then he appeared.”

“Saying don't be afraid.”

“Don’t be afraid?” Casper shot up, confusion flickering across his face. “She’s about to die, why wouldn’t she-”

“Just listen, okay?”

“Come on, baby.”

“And she had no fear-”

“And she ran to him.”

“Then they started to fly-”

“They looked backward and said goodbye.”

“She had become like they are-”

“She had taken his hand.”

“She had become like they are-”

“Come on, baby.”

“Don't fear the reaper.”

The song ended, leaving Casper fumbling to make sense of it while you took off the headphones. Seeing his confused expression, you sighed, deciding to explain the song.

“It’s a love song-” you put up a hand before Casper could interrupt you- “Hear me out first. The love in this song goes further than just normal love- it’s one that’s young and burning, with the lover accepting their fate. Yet, the two’s love would remain and last forever, as they embraced life fully and welcomed death with open arms.”

Casper nodded along to your explanation, the confusion in his gaze slowly disappearing. A love song about death, huh?

Looking down, you gave him a soft smile before continuing.“It reminded me of something. You and I.”

“Hm,” Casper hummed, moving towards you and hugging you from behind, his fingers gently weaving through your hair. You melted in his hold, leaning your head against his chest. “There is a difference though. No reaper will be coming for you anytime soon.”

[aifanfictions]

story about Alastor from Hazbin Hotel falling slowly in love with (y/n) who is an emplyeee at the Hazbin Hotel and is trying to help Charlie save the sinners

Love in Hell's Heart

Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, had always been a creature of chaos and darkness. His eerie charisma and insatiable appetite for mayhem made him a feared figure in the underworld. He relished in the chaos that Hell had to offer, finding pleasure in the torment and suffering of lost souls.

But amidst the chaos and cacophony of Hell, there was one person who managed to capture Alastor's attention—a human named (Y/N). She was an employee at the Hazbin Hotel, a place that aimed to rehabilitate sinners and give them a chance at redemption. (Y/N) was different from the other demons; she possessed an innate kindness and an unwavering belief in the potential for goodness in even the most wicked of souls.

Every day, Alastor would tune into his radio show from the confines of his lavish penthouse in Hell. He'd broadcast his sinister melodies, taunting and tormenting the damned. Yet, he couldn't help but listen to (Y/N) when she appeared on the hotel's broadcast, urging sinners to seek redemption and turn away from their evil ways.

(Y/N)'s voice, filled with genuine compassion and understanding, intrigued Alastor. He'd sit in the darkness, entranced by her words, and wonder how someone could be so pure in a place so filled with darkness. It was a puzzle that he couldn't resist trying to solve.

One evening, Alastor decided to pay the Hazbin Hotel a visit. Disguised as a well-dressed gentleman, he entered the bustling lobby, hiding his true identity from the unsuspecting staff. He watched (Y/N) as she moved about, helping sinners with their troubles, offering them a glimmer of hope in the abyss of Hell.

As the days turned into weeks, Alastor continued his visits to the hotel. He'd find excuses to be near (Y/N), striking up conversations with her and trying to understand what made her so different. Her unwavering belief in the possibility of redemption both baffled and intrigued him.

One day, (Y/N) confided in him about her dream—to save as many souls as possible and bring them out of Hell's eternal torment. Alastor, for the first time in his existence, felt a strange sensation stirring within him. It was a feeling he couldn't quite place, but it seemed to radiate from the presence of (Y/N).

As the two spent more time together, Alastor found himself slowly changing. He was no longer content with sowing chaos and reveling in suffering. Instead, he began to see the potential for something more, something better. (Y/N)'s presence was like a beacon of light in his dark world, and he found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn't comprehend.

One night, under the blood-red skies of Hell, Alastor confronted his own inner demons. He realized that he had fallen in love with (Y/N), a human who had shown him a side of himself he never knew existed. It was a love that defied the very nature of Hell itself.

With newfound determination, Alastor decided to use his influence and power to assist (Y/N) and the Hazbin Hotel in their mission to save souls. He'd become an unexpected ally in the fight for redemption, all because of the love that had taken root in the darkest corners of his heart.

Together, (Y/N) and Alastor faced unimaginable challenges, battling against the malevolent forces of Hell to give sinners a chance at salvation. Their love, an anomaly in the fiery depths of Hell, became a beacon of hope and a testament to the power of redemption and change.

In the heart of Hell, amidst the chaos and suffering, a love story unlike any other unfolded—a love that transcended the boundaries of darkness and lit up the path to redemption for those who had once been lost.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI