#a soul eternally in tune; APPEARANCE.

[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.

[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.

[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...

[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 or glorified in any sense. It is necessary, however, as this story is about rising up against adversity. 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 you and all its other citizens. This is where your story should end. 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 an 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's only going to get worse from here...~

Your end is fast approaching, and it doesn't look pleasant. Time is no longer on your side, and 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 remains.

Succumb to Brain Death.

——————————————————————————————————

Demo Release Date: TENTATIVELY FEBRUARY

——————————————————————————————————

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.

Anyway, 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)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

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.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

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.”

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

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.

[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

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Undead Heart

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.4K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: necromancy, defensive reader, Astarion being a supportive little baby (he is so precious), doubt, reassurance, flufffff, kinda angst? idk

———————————-

Astarion laid his head on your chest, smushing his face in for good measure. You let out a breathy laugh. It was still early, the birds hadn’t graced the winds with their songs yet. The sun hadn’t peeked over the horizon to start the new day. You held Astarion close, one hand gently caressing his soft curls at the base of his neck - the other drawing circles on his bicep that was holding your waist. For a creature who didn’t sleep he appeared pretty dead to the world currently. You listened to the little breaths that left his mouth. You watched his eyes move beneath his closed lids. You loved looking at him, especially when he was like this. His face was calm and smoothed over with rest. Nothing could hurt him here, you wouldn’t let it. 

“Staring is rude.” he mumbled into your chest, somewhere between sleep and wake. 

“It’s not staring, it’s admiring.” you whispered into his ear, kissing the side of his face softly. You could feel a begrudging smile form on his face for a moment before his breathing evened out again. 

You slowly slipped away from him. You were a necromancer, of unknown origin. Your past was muddled but you had found histories of yourself at the citadel from the far reaches of Faerun. You had lived a life. Full of good and bad but your future was yours alone to define. You were ancient, you never aged. The years, for the most part, had been kind to you. Your powers were unmatched and your beauty was unparalleled. Slipping out of the tent you walked out of camp through the fog of the early morning. You could feel the sweet dewdrops kissing your feet as you walked barefoot to the cemetery you had passed yesterday before setting up camp. The souls there called to you. They wished to be released, to visit one another after an eternity apart. As you walked to the center of the graveyard you felt your powers start to flow from your palms. Black smoke and glowing green light emanated from you, swirling and twisting about. Figures started to arise from the graves, transparent and ghostly. You kept your concentration as the ghosts mingled. Laughing and dancing with one another as if they were in the midst of a ball. Your power enveloped the graveyard in a shimmering light, as if millions of little sparkles had graced the small event you created. You walked through the endless rows of graves, quietly admiring everyone. Out of all the things you could do with your abilities, this was always your favorite. Reuniting old friends, families, lovers. Even some enemies who decided to call truces due to their undead circumstances. Everyone always looked so happy, so relieved. The ghosts could see you just as you could see them. One floated through you before another held your hand, spinning you about to the quiet tune that drifted through the air. An enthusiastic bard playing his instrument, as if he had never put it down all those centuries ago. You knew the sight was strange, and that people often found you strange yourself. Death did not scare you. You were its equal and enjoyed teetering that otherworldly line. 

You had never shown this power to Astarion, concerned he would find it odd. You had been together for  a few months. He knew you were ancient and powerful but beyond that you tried to be quite vague. You continued to smile and laugh amongst the ghosts, feeling relieved to use your powers. In battle you were skilled with necrotic and psychic attacks along with general melee fighting but this is truly what you enjoyed using your powers for. Bringing peace, unity. After a while though, the air shifted. You felt eyes watching you. You searched for the source, eyes finding a very much awake Astarion leaning against the graveyard gate.You jumped, sucking in a shocked gasp. You made the shimmer fade, the swirling slow, the smoke dissipate. The ghosts slowly drift back to their respective graves, solemn looks on their faces. No amount of time living or dead would be long enough with each other. And yet, you felt their appreciation radiate to you. You felt pale, almost sickly. Astarion was going to think you were some sort of freak, you just knew it. You slowly made your way to him, keeping your head low and arms tight across your chest to protect yourself from some unknown threat. 

Astarion’s face wore a slight frown, his eyebrows drawn up in a furrow “Little love, whatever could be the matter?”

Your heart raced at the pet name. “How long have you been standing there?” you asked, walking past him, heading back to camp. 

He trailed after you, “Long enough. You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” he quipped. There was no malice in his tone, nor teasing but it made you cringe internally anyways.

“I wish you hadn’t.” you whispered, walking into your tent. 

Astarion felt confused, he tried to follow you into your tent but was stopped by a similar shimmering force at the entrance of your tent. He stepped back, he could still see and hear you but he couldn’t get to you, couldn’t touch you. 

“I would like to be alone.” you said picking up a book and sitting down, eyes never meeting him.

“Darling…” Astarion said quietly, noticing a few tears on your face. “Please let me in.” 

“Why?” you spat, you wanted to fill your heart with anger in preparation for the negativity you were sure you were about to receive. 

“I let you in.” he spoke softly, you knew he wasn’t just talking about his tent. He had shown you every facet of himself, the least you could do was let him into your damn tent. 

He slowly pulled the book from your hands as he sat down, attempting to take them in his own. You pulled away quickly, crossing your arms over your chest. He felt a pang of hurt within him but pushed it aside. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Well, get on with it…” you huffed  out shakily. 

“I have to say… that was pretty powerful magic you were doing back there…” you snorted a bit at his comment. ‘If only you knew’ you thought. 

“Freaky, right? Strange? Unnatural? Unholy?” you rambled off sounding angrier by the second. Your walls were building back up at breakneck speed, preparing for the worst. 

“My sweet, why do you sound so upset? I thought what you were doing was quite… amazing. Honestly… everyone looked so elated, thanks to you.” your eyes flicked to his. 

“I know it’s weird to be so… involved with the dead. I never wanted you to see me doing anything like that… but they sounded so sad, so lonely…” you tried to explain yourself.

Astarion chuckled, causing you to snap your head up. “My precious, you do realize I am undead? I think I might understand better than anyone why you wanted to give those souls a reprieve. It was… sweet of you.” he smiled at you tentatively, hesitantly going for your hand. He smoothed his thumb over the back of it. 

You wanted to trust him, to believe him. Yet a voice still tugged at your mind. “You think so?” you whispered.

“Darling you gave them a few minutes of life, do you know how sacred that must be for them? And you did it out of the kindness of your heart. Now that, is truly meaningful. That shows the soul you possess.” Astarion moved his other hand to cup your cheek, tilting your face to be level with his. 

Your eyes were glossy, “I just don’t want to be too different. Too strange.”

“You are quite strange… it’s quite possibly my favorite thing about you.” he smiled, his fangs peaking out a bit. “Do you know why I rest on your chest so much?”

You shook your head ‘no’ at him.

“I do it so I can listen to your heart. I feel almost as if mine beats with yours for the first time in centuries when I hear it. Strong. Compassionate. Wonderful.” you tilted your head into his hand, kissing his palm. 

“I love you.” you said quietly. 

Astarion smiled, you had only said those words to each other once before when your emotions became too much to hold inside. 

“And I you, endlessly my strange little love.” he kissed you deeply yet gently before laying you both down. He settled in his usual spot, listening to your heart. Strong, even, calm.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! I hope everyone likes this piece, it came to me suddenly as I am in fact writing and posting it at damn near 2 AM #worthit. I think I might try to write another this weekend but I work tomorrow and have been pretty exhausted (mentally and physically) as of late so idk, no promises. Anyways - thanks for all the likes comments, reblogs, and requests! Ilysm xoxoxoxo, talk soon.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 24

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 24: a relationship?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm sorry, sir. We can't pinpoint him. My guess is he's mobile." Caloh Warlock stood with his hands respectfully behind his back in front of Alastor, who remained seated in one of the chairs by the fireplace. His legs were crossed, a thoughtful hand on his cheek, and his cane upright beside his leg. He tapped the metal cover, agitated.

"One can't be mobile if he requires a factory." His eyes narrowed on the owned soul. He knew it wasn't Caloh's fault that Blackwater was hard to find, but that didn't stop the growing anger and anxiety boiling in his chest.

Caloh was the type of Demon that had a strange inhuman appearance. His entire head was a motorcycle helmet with a single eye blinking through the visor. He met the Demon back in 2016 when he nearly died on the side of the road. Alastor had taken the opportunity to secure another soul deal. He offered to save the dying man's life in exchange for his soul for the rest of eternity. Once the Great Collapse happened, he left the man alone to do what he wanted, only calling upon his services after the incident with Blackwater.

Caloh had spent weeks trying to track down Blackwater. The man was too evasive, never staying in the spot people claimed he was in. His inventions were still being mass produced, somehow, as if one of his major factories hadn't been swallowed into the earth. He didn't necessarily mind being brought under Alastor after so long, but he did mind the anger and condescending nature his master casted in his direction during every interaction.

He was abruptly pulled down to his knees, hands slamming into the wood floor as Alastor stood from the chair. Caloh leaned back on his heels as Alastor approached, refusing to stop until the tip of his boot hit the soul's knees. He slowly bent at the waist so his red eyes could bore into Caloh's single one.

"I don't want you to ask or find him," Alastor's teeth snapped dangerously close to his face, "I want you to hunt him down. I want to look through your eyes and see a man screaming and begging for his life until he gives you Blackwater's exact location." He paused, eyes searching Caloh's worried one through the helmet. "Prove your usefulness to me." He let Caloh hear the cries and screams of souls who no longer had their body, of souls who were damned for eternity until Alastor, himself, passed onto whatever was next for him.

"Of course...sir."

Alastor snapped back up with a wide grin. "Excellent! I expect to hear from you soon, then." He stepped back without looking and settled down in the chair again, antlers shrinking to their normal size.

Caloh swallowed despite his dry throat and slowly got to his feet. He gave a bow of his covered head before leaving the dark, ancient house. Alastor turned the radio back on to a quiet, somewhat lively tune and lost himself in his thoughts. His contacts were frequently updating him on Blackwater's movements or anything related to the man.

Blackwater seemed like a ghost, never fully there but never fully gone. His factories were being destroyed by other Overlords and yet his inventions were still streaming out to the public. He was becoming a big name and, according to Charlie, Lucifer was still dealing with more and more Demons coming into Hell. He tried to send them over to the haven but those who didn't live in the unclaimed territory were happy in their secured portion of Hell.

His darling was also being plagued by the man. Every time their minds melted together, he would get a brief memory of the man and the fear that was associated with it. It didn't help that you were always asking him, at least once every day, if he had found him yet. You always looked so deflated and worried when he said he hadn't.

"I need to rid this man," he growled aloud, abruptly standing up and moving into the library. He begun pacing around the cold room. He wanted more than anything to wrench the man's soul out of his body and stretch it across his radio frequencies. The pain and fear would taste wonderfully and maybe even his love would enjoy it. He wished dearly to see you come into your full Demon nature. You had so much potential, so much power, but your caring nature and traumatic past were preventing you. He remembered the struggle of unwrapping your curse when you first met four years ago.

His ear twitched when the front door open. He instantly recognized Reagan's voice as she called his darling's name. He took a few steps forward to look into the living room where Reagan stood. Her eyes locked on him and her body frozen.

"I'm afraid she's out at the moment," he told her, his smile feeling strained and fake in front of the teenager.

"Doing what?" She sounded skeptical. She always did around him. She had become an annoying thorn in his side, much like how her adoptive mother had been with him years ago.

"She is having tea with a friend of ours in Hell," he replied.

"I'll come back later, then." She went to the door but he spoke before she turned the handle.

"Perhaps you'd like to wait here. I suspect she'll return soon."

"And stay with you?"

His smile turned into a slight snarl. He couldn't understand how his darling and this teenager became so close. He couldn't understand why you even wanted to spend any time with such young folk. They were infuriating. It wasn't just his own preference, as he noticed. Many other adults in the haven didn't particularly like teenagers.

"She doesn't mind my company much." He pinched his claws together and examined them, sending a sideways glance in her direction.

"She should."

The nerve of this child.

"Why do you say that?" He moved swiftly into the living room and sat himself back in the seat by the fireplace. "You shouldn't judge someone by the rumors and tales spun by others."

Oh the irony of his very own words. It was thanks to the rumors and tales of others that his name became so feared so quickly in both realms.

"I'm not. I'm judging you from what she's told me." She let go of the handle and crossed her arms, facing him completely. While the two women weren't biologically related, he could see such resemblance. It was almost painful.

"And what has she told you?" His smile was a sneer in an effort to unset the young woman. He rested his cane on the arm rest and leaned his cheek into his clawed hand. He wanted to look relaxed and unbothered despite the burning questions in the back of his mind. How much and what exactly had the two of you been talking about in relation to him?

"Wouldn't you like to know," she growled.

"That is why I'm asking."

She rolled her eyes and finally opened the front door. "Ask her yourself."

"She cares for you," he said louder, catching her attention before she left. "You do not like me, that much is obvious, but I wish to...make amends? With you. I know it would bring her great joy to see us in each other's company."

Reagan thought for a long moment, eyes darting around and hand still on the door handle. After another moment of silence, she let out a strained sigh and closed the front door. Step one complete. Now, step two.

"Perhaps you can tell me why I bother you so?" He motioned to the chair across from him that you usually sat in. Reagan's eyes were like a snake's eyes, never leaving him as she sat down in the seat as rigid as ever.

"Well, you're the Radio Demon. What's there to even like?"

He chuckled at that. "It is a persona. One that keeps others from coming too close." He meant that physically and personally. "You are seeing the individual, now."

"I don't like the individual either. You terrorized my mo--you hurt her too."

He caught that phrase. My mother. Your relationship was significantly closer than he realized.

"According to dear Charlie, redemption is possible for everyone. I have been making steps to do just that."

"Like what? You're always touching her and I know you get more power when you do that."

Just how much had you revealed to this child? Why would you tell Reagan about the powers of the bond yet fail to tell her the actions he's taken to grow close with you? Were you embarrassed about the romantics? You were embarrassed for not knowing how to dance so surely that made sense, too. It made him feel better knowing that not everything was being shared with the teenager.

"A relationship is a complicated, thing," he started.

"Is that what it is?"

His one ear irked sideways. "Sounds as though you may need to ask her again how she feels about me. We have grown close despite the difficulties we both present."

"Sounds like stockholm syndrome."

A breath of silence. "How do you know what that means?"

"I'm eighteen."

"That explains nothing."

"I overheard someone say it and looked it up."

"You don't have a device to do such a thing."

"I asked Charlie for her phone."

Of course. He needed to talk to dear Charlie about that.

"Since the construction of the haven began, she has had an immense amount of freedom and has chosen to stay with me." He folded his claws in his lap and held them painfully tight. "She could have stayed with anyone in the haven, still can," he insisted, "but she chooses to remain up here with me."

He felt you touch his mind through the bond. He reached out and teleported you back to the cliffside.

"You're the Radio Demon. You can manipulate anyone."

He stood up and fixed his bow tie, grabbing his cane as he did so. "Perhaps you will come to see that I don't wish to manipulate everyone I come across. For now, you ought to speak with her more often about our relationship." He looked to the kitchen door before you walked in.

You greeted him with a smile, turning his own more genuine. He extended his hand and felt the warmth of your palm when you took it. He had planned to give you a kiss as a greeting but you noticed Reagan before he could. Instead, he resorted to a kiss on the top of your head by your lovely horns. He forced himself not to look at Reagan so as not to give in to her suspects.

The two of you talked briefly, agreeing to eat dinner together tomorrow evening. Reagan casted an unamused look in his direction before leaving the house. He let out a heavy sigh as soon as the door shut.

"What on earth happened?" you asked, "You two never talk."

"I had attempted common ground. She wasn't...overly receptive," he told you.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He bent down and finally stole a soft kiss. You laughed as you pulled away, letting him wrap an arm around your back. You were always so warm and folded perfectly into his side. He half listened as you talked about your conversation with Rosie, allowing him to lead you up the stairs to the shared room.

Since the two of you had grown close, you had a habit of pacing when you were in deep thought, your tail whisking behind you gracefully and your claws tapping on the wood and rug. You were the only one who he could listen to for hours.

He watched you go on about more ideas for the haven that Rosie had sparked in that mind of yours as he undid his bow tie and shed his red coat. He smiled over his shoulder when your words slowed. That particular movement of his never failed to make you falter, especially now that you had discovered his wretched tail.

He sat on the window seat with one leg up and his arm draping across it. You were quick to finish your train of thought, hands clasped firmly together in nervousness, and went silent in an effort to make him speak. For a few moments he watched you struggle, toe claws tapping the floor and tail swishing across the rug.

Finally, he relented and held out his hand for you to take. You walked over and let him pull you down with your back against his chest. He loved feeling your warmth and magic seep into his lungs. It felt like you were giving him more life. He wrapped his arms around your torso and smiled at the feeling of your hands gently hanging onto him. You shrank your horns so as not to hurt him and he planted a kiss on the top of your head as a thank you. He then rubbed his cheek against your smooth, soft hair.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

So perceptive. When had you gotten so good at reading him?

"I have been quite...forceful, haven't I?" he asked slowly, afraid to hear the answer.

"What do you mean?"

"I have...I want to allow you the ability to choose. I do not wish to take control of our...relationship." He worried you might react the same way to that word as Reagan had.

There was a spike of mixed nervousness and excitement from you. He let you touch his mind but he didn't want you to see his memory of the conversation with the teenager. You pressed further against him and tilted your head back so your closed eyes could lean against his neck. He noted a rabbit trail thought of yours. You liked when he was sitting because it lessened the height gap between you two. After all, he was mostly just legs.

"We might've had a rough start but...I do want to be close with you." You moved a hand to gently rest on top of one of his black claws.

"You are allowed to feel otherwise," he insisted.

"Thank you," you mimicked him, rubbing your face into his neck and sending more warmth through his body, "but I'd like to."

His eyes looked over your figure. Just over a year ago he would've hissed at your touch. A year ago he would've laughed at Rosie's statement of love. Only two years ago you had been at each other's throat and causing all kinds of headaches for him.

After centuries of being alone, of meeting shallow women, you had snaked your way under his skin and into his heart. How had he even let this happen? How had he even gotten to this point? He was the Radio Demon. Yet here he was trying to convince you, and himself, that you had a choice to be close with him.

How have I fallen so hard for you?

Your ear perked up and pulled your face away. "What did you just say?"

"I didn't."

You tilted your head back so your eyes could meet, both pairs jumping between each other, each trying to decipher what had just happened.

Surely you cannot hear me.

"That!" You made a slight jump in his arms. His one ear fell to the side.

This isn't real. He heard your voice without your mouth moving.

It appears it may very well be real, he answered through his own thoughts.

"Whoah..." you said aloud.

"Our bond has grown stronger." He felt the doubts in the back of his head disappear at the realization, but there seemed to be some bubbling in your own.

"I didn't think...can soulmates do that?"

"Some," he nodded his head. He searched your face and mind for fear, for resentment, for disappointment. Over a year ago you had been determined to keep him from sharing such a connection with you. Did you still feel that way? Doubts were one thing but what would happen if they solidified?

He felt your nervousness, though he didn't ever not feel that from you, but he wondered if it was because you worried what he would hear. What was there to be afraid of? He had already seen all your memories since the start of everything. Were you worried he was manipulating you? That had been a point you had stressed so many times when everything started.

Then he felt it. You wrapped your mind around his. He felt you search through some of his wide array of memories and through his feelings. He tried to push you out, surprised and angry at such an act, but for the first time ever he couldn't. He felt your presence pushing against him and drawing deep feelings from his chest.

He sucked in cool air when you finally pulled out of his mind. His ears pinned back against his head as he opened his mouth to scold you. Instead, you twisted your body and came up on your knees to connect your lips with his, a single clawed hand pressed just beneath his neck on his collarbone. You were pushing him hard into the wall.

He reached up and pulled on one of your horns to break the kiss, smile strained. "Darling why did you search--"

"I like you," you interrupted. He fell silent. His ears went back up. "I haven't ever been...close or in a relationship with anyone before you, but...we're soulmates for a reason, right?"

You pulled him into your mind and let him look through your memories, watching the conversation with Rosie only an hour before. They had talked about him. In depth. His anger melted away as quickly as it had arrived.

You're not manipulating me right? Your thought echoed in his head.

No, my darling.

Based on your reaction, he guessed you hadn't meant for that train of thought to reach him. He wondered about the limitations this new power and skill held, but that would come later.

He brushed the back of his fingers across your cheek like he always did. Now he understood why you had so blatantly went through his mind. You were searching for his true thoughts and feelings. You were trying to make sure he was being honest. Quite frankly, nowadays, he wasn't sure how to be dishonest with you.

I am infatuated with you. Enamored. Smitten. Dare I say recklessly in love with you.

In love? You sat back on your ankles, tail wrapping around your waist, so you could face him completely. He still had one leg up on the seat and the other over the edge.

"Yes my dear," he said aloud, "in love. I don't do shallow things. Much too trifling." He waved the word off with his hand, earning a small quirk of a smile on your lips. He wanted to kiss you again. "Would you consider yourself in love?"

"I uh...I suppose?"

"Why is it a question?" He rested his arm on his bent knee and noticed your pupils widen.

Ah. So that's what was happening.

He tried blending with your mind again but you were keeping him in the midst between shallow and deep waters. You were trying to hide it. Your mind was in two vastly different places at once. He wanted to exploit that further.

"I just...I've read the novels about love but I hear the teenagers and friends talk about liking someone first. I'm not sure what the difference is."

His smile turned into a grin. He reached out with his other hand to gently rest your chin on his red claw. "One is fleeting, one is deep. The latter is a commitment." He paused, eyes scanning your body for more hints. You were good at hiding it in that way but your eyes and guarded mind were telling more. "One elicits small gestures. The other...well..." His own heart was punching the inside of his chest. "Well, the other is a bit different."

His hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. He wrapped his arm around your back to pull you flush against him, hands on his chest and grabbing at the red button up. He loved the feeling of your hands on his chest and he wished right there that you had the confidence to undo one of those black buttons.

Though he settled for the glorious way you shifted your body so you could lean into his arm and tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Finally you opened your mind to him and he searched. You had the same burning sensation in your chest as he did and your hands were sweaty from nervousness. He could practically hear the things you wanted to do.

He had never felt the urges others had to be sweaty and physically intimate with each other. He very well understood the reasoning but never felt the desire himself. Now, his mind was beginning to wander, exploring the new topic.

His hands began to explore, too, moving down your back to settle on your hips then up your sides. Surely your skin there was just as soft and smooth as the skin on your cheeks. What would happen if you two went all the way? Could he even lead properly? He didn't believe he was experienced or at least knowledgable enough about it to do anything like it.

But he was just oh so curious. His thumbs found the edge of your shirt and slipped underneath to feel that soft skin.

Your eyes snapped open and you shoved away, knocking his head painfully hard against the wood. He let out a hiss as you scrambled back, wings sprouting from your back to wrap around your body. His smile faltered in the only way it could, the corners flatlining and his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His hand remained frozen in an outreach, unsure of what had just happened.

He gently brushed against your mind but you had blocked him out completely. It left him feeling aggressively cold and he had to increase his body temperature to keep himself from shivering. His chest pinched tightly as you refused to open your mind to him again.

"I overstepped." It was both a question and a statement.

"I don't...know." You were still wrapped in your wings and...were you shaking? Yes, you were definitely shaking. Your face was a tell tale sign enough. He could taste the edges of fear that still lingered from your previous contact.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He put both legs over the edge of the seat, eyes never leaving you. He noticed that you were refusing to look him in the eyes. You were watching him carefully, fearfully, like you had four years ago when he first brought you to the house.

"It wasn't...on purpose. I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" He tilted his head to the side, finally getting eye contact for a quick glance.

"For...reacting like that." You stared at the closed curtains, eyes picking something and sticking to it. He wasn't sure how to fix what had just happened. He didn't even know why it had happened. Everything seemed fine up until that last second.

"It is getting late, my darling." He tried changing the subject, trying to move on. "Perhaps it is time for our routine?" He snapped his fingers to make the usual items reveal themselves on the bed, your novel and his abstracts. You dared a glance at what he had done with his magic and he felt your guard thinning. "Why don't you get dressed? You may be feeling restless from overworking yourself."

You nodded, slowly unraveling yourself and leaving the room to change into your nightly outfit. He feared you would not return, stretching his mind out and wrapping around yours at a wide distance. He was trying to be welcoming, inviting, and just hoping that you would return to his room to spend the night with him again.

To his great relief, you did.

There was a heavy silence between you two for a long time. He tried to focus on writing his abstracts but failed miserably. He just wanted to know why you had reacted the way you did. Was it something he had done? He could taste a memory on the tip of his tongue but you had pulled away too soon for him to get the full extent of it. Had he triggered a bad memory?

Then it clicked.

When you first unraveled your curse, you had gone through a wretched memory. You had been attacked in one of your cages when you were a teenager. He remembered trying to convince you to kill the man who had ruined you but you had still been so skeptical of him at the time. Had ending the man's life not been enough to overcome such a memory? Obviously not.

His ears fell and his smile pinched into his check. He hadn't meant to trigger that memory or overstep a boundary. He hadn't meant to elicit such a fear from his own actions on you. You were a puzzle piece, for sure, with lots more work to be done. Guilt gnawed at his throat and he wished for a way to make you feel better, to apologize. He wasn't very good at those.

You noticed his ears and the stillness of his pen. "I'm sorry."

"What for, my dear?" He waited a moment before slowly turning his head to look. He didn't want to make any sudden movements.

"For reacting like that."

"You have already apologized for that, darling."

"Right." You went back to your novel.

He inwardly groaned. He was very bad at this.

"I suppose an apology from me is in order," he tried, removing his glasses, "I hadn't meant to scare you in such a way."

Finally, finally, he felt your guard fall completely. He slowly pressed his mind closer to yours until you metaphorically hooked a single claw on his mind. Apologies worked. Of course they did. The one thing he hated doing.

"Thank you." You moved over to rest your head on his shoulder. He shifted lower on the bed so it was more comfortable for you and placed a gentle kiss on your hair. You let out a wide yawn and he chuckled, drawing the book from your tired hands and dimming the lights and fireplace.

"I believe it is time for you to sleep," he mused kindly.

"What gave it away?" you teased with yet another yawn.

He laid down first and was surprised when you attached yourself to his side. Your tail wrapped around his leg and draped your arm over his chest. He planted another kiss on your forehead this time before you managed to snuggle your face into the crook of his neck. His own anxieties went out the window as your minds melted together perfectly.

His claws moved methodically along your back until he couldn't fight off the sleep either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Alastor perspective! New OC - Caloh Warlock!

Happy Easter <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

[chiharulen]

Let's talk about the OST of Black Butler

What really drew me to Kuroshitsuji was the music of the first two seasons. I remember so vividly listening to the music before watching the actual anime, and I remember how the OST made me feel. It was so sad, so raw and heart wrenching, even before knowing the story behind it. As a classical music fan and also musician, here are my favourites even though no one asked LOL :

I mean, with "Si deus me relinquint", I always want to cry. Clearly meant to be ciel's lament : "If God has forsaken me, Then I shall forsake God, too." The unusual spacing of each lyrics, as if the singer was panting her words with difficulties, as if too tired to continue. Then we can hear the gregorian/religious choir : "agnus dei qui tollis peccata mundi" : "Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us." Reminiscing of the cult, and the sacrifice that has been done. The second part of the music, makes me think of Sebastian, here to "save" ciel. (But is it really saving if he's just going to eat ciel's soul anyway. Giving no chance of eternal peace.)

An underrated OST : I've Come To The Lost World/Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen (you can find it here). The title is a nod to Malher's same title song. In this ost, there is no lyrics, however, in Malher's, here are some of the lyrics : "I am lost to the world With which I used to waste much time; It has for so long known nothing of me, It may well believe that I am dead. Nor am I at all concerned If it should think that I am dead. Nor can I deny it, For truly I am dead to the world." You can hear the composer of Black butler's ost passion for opera in a few titles (with "Cena d'amore" or even "Wie Schon") At the beginning, it sounds peaceful. But the plaintive melody of the erhu (I think) can be heard at 1:52. So melancholic, and lonely. How can life be peaceful even when you are "safe", when you know you're going to die soon by the hands of a devil. Recalling the original of Malher's lyrics : For truly I am dead to the world.

The danse macabre (here) is one of my favourites too ! So dark (literally the "dance of death"), and clearly inspired by Camille Saint Saens "danse macabre". According to the legend : "Midnight strikes. Satan is going to lead the dance. Death appears, tunes his violin, and the round begins, almost furtively at first, comes to life, seems to calm down and then starts up again with an increased rage that will only cease when the cock crows. The Sabbath dissolves with the dawn." This music was clearly inspired by Vivaldi "the storm". I just LOVE IT. So well composed. You can imagine Ciel and Sebastian in a frenzied dance. Ciel getting tired and not being able to keep up. Almost as if Sebastian were playing with his food. At least, that's how it makes me feel !

This OST named "Ciel" : Si deus Relinquit, but make it orchestral. Again, Ciel's lament.

And should I talk about the band KALAFINA ?????????????????? Made by the one and only Yuki Kajiura (amazing song writer, did plenty amazing music for us weebs lol). We were blessed with the song "Lacrimosa". "Broken and vanishing into the distance I want to love this dazzling world once more I hide my dreams within my eyes Until my tainted heart Receives falling tears A phantom carriage parts the darkness On its way to where there is light The trap known as dreams Lures us into the inferno" ( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ )

I heard the fanbase in japan had a CONCERT for the 15th anniversary of kuroshitsuji. How I pray for something like that in Paris one day lol. Here's a snippet : here Such a lengthy post and yet I could go on and on... Please let me know if you want more !!!!

[iwillrememberyoumarathon]

❥❥ iwry marathon: week four ❥❥ thanks to everyone who participated in the marathon this year! enjoy the fanworks from this week (links below) and stay tuned for Another Minute on December 1!! we'll have a full masterlist for iwry 2024 coming soon

fics

Day 23: Sun in the Storm by bonniesfire (@lalosalamcnca) Summary: Buffy through some of the metaphorical (and occasionally literal) seasons of her life. (Rated T. 3,960 words)

Day 24: Blood Group (Группа крови) by B_E_S Summary: Buffy reacted calmly to the story about the Day That Never Happened. But not to the story about Darla and Connor. (Rated T. 5,754 words, in Russian)

Day 25: Do Vampires Dream of Undead Sheep? by @taaroko Summary: When the nightmares of Sunnydale become reality, what horrors will a certain vampire with a soul have to face? (i.e. What was Angel up to during "Nightmares"?) Canon compliant. (Rated G. 2,970 words)

Day 26: Gambit by @aboutafox Summary: He's the ace up her sleeve and a constant gamble. Trapped in a nest of vipers, she's the only one he can trust. But can their relationship survive the games they play? Or in short, what if nothing that happened in season 5 was as it appeared? (Rated E. 7,433 words)

Day 27: The Blood of Eternity by Liana_Medea Summary: There lives a monster in the bogs of the West, cursed by the Red Sorceress. (Rated G. 2,987 words)

Day 28: Do Si Dos and Aliemande Left by a2zmom Summary: The sixth story of the Steps Saga, a rewrite of BtVS season 4 where Angel stayed human after IWRY. Buffy winds up cut off from friends and family. (Rated M. 13,260 words)

Day 29: Just One Day by MeTheMermaid (@casenpoint) Summary: Buffy proposes she and Angel spend Christmas Day together. But only Christmas Day. (Rated M. 2,724 words)

Day 30: In Every Generation by @taaroko Summary: In every generation, there is a chosen one. At least, there used to be, before the power in the Slayer line waned. With the gaps between new Slayers stretching from years to decades and the secrets of creating them long forgotten, the Watchers grew desperate, so they turned to a Romani curse in hopes of forging loyal warriors out of their greatest enemies… (Rated T. 27,391 words)

art

'i will remember you': 25th anniversary — gifset by @liam-summers

bangel x like real people do — edit by @bangelism (also posted on Instagram)

bangel + locations, part five: the mansion — gifset by @ptieuca

bangel + locations, part six: angel's apartments — gifset by @ptieuca

previous weeks:

❥❥ iwry marathon: week one ❥❥

❥❥ iwry marathon: week two ❥❥

❥❥ iwry marathon: week three ❥❥

[safrona-shadowsun]

Daily Writing Challenge 2024 November DWC, Day 2 Words: Deceit/Eternal @daily-writing-challenge

As the last breath of the summoning command left her lips, a shadow seemed to divide from her own figure, birthed from it to become its own identity. A vague surprise laced the void elf’s features in seeing the succubus greet her, taloned fingers threading the length of her long braid with learned affection.

“Hello, Pretty,” the demon breathed with silky sweetness, as if some returning lover from the annals of time.

“Elernia,” Safrona replied with a backward step away, none too impressed. “You have not been answering my calls. Should I be concerned?”

The Sayaad shrugged helplessly, holding out both hands now with a performative befuddlement. “Well, you do now have what, one, two, three of us now?” She counted off on her fingers with a showiness, referencing the other two demons of her species that the Warlock had newly brought into her service. Elernia wrinkled her perfectly sloped nose at her Mistress. “I think the calling gets a little lost in translation. Maybe it’s time to really personalize our spells, Sweetness.”

A skeptical glance came from the Warlock now. “So you have not been…untethered from me, then? I am surprised you came to me at all.”

Elernia pouted, drawing near once more to her Mistress. “I’ve been with you through this life and the others you have taken, my love.” The succubus gently took the Warlock’s hands into her own, lining their fingers together. “I know you like no other, as you know me. You have me eternally.”

A knowing, devilish grin spread. She preyed upon her mistress’ secret desire for the deepest devotion, for unyielding worship that spanned lifetimes. A desire that few mortals could fulfill. “Those two young ones, they’ll *never* compare to me. You know it.”

The succubus lifted her mistress’ arms apart, appraising her appearance as if admiring her fashion. “And here now, you have been growing in power as I’ve always hoped for you to! How many demons have you in your service now?”

Safrona sighed and slipped her hands from the Sayaadi’s fingers. “Not enough,” she muttered in a slip of dark honesty. “They are…servicable I suppose. An exciting discovery in their first contact, but just a scattering in the long run. Brief impact.”

“You want something new,” Elernia construed, purring at the confession as if it sated her with some perverse satisfaction.

“I want to make sure the deep insurgence of Void in the new areas isn’t going to make a damn puppet out of me.” Safrona explained. “If Xala’tath can turn ancient civilizations beneath the earth to her own ends, what do you think she can do to a surface dweller who is already in tune to her frequency?” Safrona sighed shakily to herself. “Sometimes…my thoughts drift to places and I don’t even know if they are my own anymore.”

“Then you need us to remind you of who you are, silly sweet girl,” Elernia spoke. “Besides, the real reason I’ve been so quiet is because I’ve been researching for you. You've been fretting over all this other silly business you've not been paying mind to the other threats around you.”

Elernia slipped her talons so carefully in the top of her own brazier, slipping a pulsating crystal from the alluring curves of her bosom. It was fit into the warlock’s hand, closing her fingers fondly over it. “Dreadlord Raetheron. He picked up on your aura again like the sweet meat you are, and he’d been watching you, calculating how to strike. Had to intercept, Sweetness. I only snatched a shard of the soul, but you'll be able to track him entirely, and end him. Or. Bind him to your service. For real this time. Prove it to yourself that you can. Another step in that domination you need.”

Lifting the crystal to hand, Safrona felt the familiar dread pulse of the demonic Lieutenant. The first to bind her to the blood of Tichondrious the Darkener, through him. The origin of her power, and a remnant of a tormentor for years. The Warlock was impressed, but the skeptic in her did not die. “And you snapped up this shard of an Elder Dreadlord’s soul all by yourself?”

“I have my ways,” Elernia retorted with a little grin, then a blow of a kiss before phasing out of her reality again.

Safrona sighed thoughtfully, examining the crystal with a slow turn. She knew Elernia kept truths from her. And yet in the grand scheme of things, that recognition seemed unimportant.

Little lies were every part of the Sayaad’s design as much as the same deceits were of her own.

[livingmydreamlife5555]

MHA Dr #3

Name: Apollo Kamiyama

Birthday: January 24th

Height: 5'7"

Appearance: Low-key just a pretty boy. Imma add some art breeder photos at the bottom for more visuals of like my facial features. I combined multiple ones into a few that I liked. But yeah, I'm really pretty and I have freckles and curly hair 😻😻 me and midoriya twinning 🫶🏾🫶🏾 scripted that I remind people of the actual God Apollo if he was a human on Earth

Backstory: This one is a very interesting backstory lol. Long story short, my parents were devoted worshippers of the Greek gods. To show their devotion, they allowed the gods to bless me, aka their first child. So I have the blessings of the gods, like Percy Jackson type blessings, as if I were their child. They named me Apollo in honor of the first god they worked with. But that's not all 😏. They wanted me to become one of the greatest heroes. I was born with no quirk, so they gave me an advanced version of my parents quirks with some blessings of course. And that's how you get the gamer system, but the version from the web novel "Solo Leveling". I was born in Nigeria, but moved to America and did school there. I moved to Japan to do highschool at UA of course 💪🏾💪🏾. Don't know if imma actually script siblings, I already have some here 😭

Quirk: My life is mostly like a RPG player. I have quests I receive from the 12 gods themselves and some others. I can do anything a RPG player can do. The gods can open gates like in the webnovel solo leveling which the Gods open the gates to help me get stronger, with mythical greek monsters too. After my first gate, which the Gods use to test me, I get the skill shadow extraction, like from solo leveling. Anytime I defeat a monster, I can resurrect them to join my army under my command. In the original they are black and blue, but I scripted them to white and gold. The gates that the gods spawn can only be seen by me, and if I want others to see them then they could. The blessings I got from the gods show up as passive skills in my system (This whole quirk makes more sense if you read up on the main character's power).

Voice claim: Probably more higher than I sound in my other realities. I scripted something around Kenma Asmodeus (obey me), and Milo thatch combined. Just soft, pretty and angelic. "I sound like a beautiful tune from the instruments that the God Apollo would perfectly play" quite literally from my script

Extra info-

here are all the blessings and what they actually do (I don't get them all at once. There are six I get first, then I get the rest later on. They can grow from there too)

Zeus ⚡- power to control all elements (I start with the 4 basics, before moving into Lightning, metal, etc.)

Hera 🦚 - blessed with a loving relationship in my family

Poseidon 🔱 - power to breath underwater and and summon water beings on command

Hades 💀 - (couldn't really decide on one from him. But just something not over the top.)

Aphrodite 🦪 - the gift of absolute beauty and power to uncover the emotions hidden deep in one's soul

Apollo ☀️ - blessed with the voice of an angel and the powers of healing. My smile is like a beacon of light and shall illuminate the darkest of nights and usher hope for anyone.

Artemis 🌙 - blessed with the instincts of the best hunter, when needed. I shall radiate with calming light, soothing the ones around me.

Athena 🫒 - blessed with the gift of knowledge and learning capabilities. I can solve any puzzles and learn anything very quickly.

Hephaestus ⚒️ - blessed with the ability to forge anything with the right materials. I know how to use any weapon.

Hestia 🔥 - blessed with the burning desire to bring justice and gifted with the eternal flame.

Hermes 🪽 - blessed with the ability to tell if a person is pure of heart and tell if they are lying. I have the movements of water and can build up to the speed of light.

Demeter 🌿 - blessed with the power to control plant life and animals. Anywhere I go, the place shall prosper

Dionysus 🍷 - blessed with the ability to create anything only when in need. I can always find food

Ares ⚔️ - blessed with the power to solve any crisis and instill chaos when needed.

i have a more androgynous beauty in this Dr. Got a lot of beauty from Aphrodite of course 🙏🏾

I can also communicate with the gods as well and they come like little inboxes in my gamer systems.

I might script that we are rich, but just depends on how I'm feeling.

I have the same skills from the other drs obviously.

Welp that's it for this reality. This is also a really good way to reconnect with myself in my other realities too. Below are the art breeder pics of me. One more to gooo

-Honey out 🍯🍯🍯

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: EPILOGUE

— part one | part two | part three

——

Four Months Later

Spectral shadows now haunt the vacant house in Tennessee. They are ones of yourself and Harry appearing as nebulous figures wistfully retracing the steps of every memory played out in each room. 

Every wall you were sensually backed into. 

Every floor you collapsed onto with heartache. 

Every dark corner that sheltered your fears. 

The wilted vines of romance that grew under the carpet and ascended toward the roof are surely felt by whoever exists there now, trapping their feet and trying to pull them down into their depths of despair. Their once vibrant color pales from perennial neglect, and they yearn for a single drop of love. 

The two lovers are no longer the providers of such an arduous task. 

You have broken free from the poison ivy and moved to untethered fields. The deadly nightshade that crawled over your body is no longer lethal, and your stitched heart is now thriving with unburdened lungs. Harry willingly took the needle and delicately sewed each open wound with threads of honeysuckle and lavender, patiently waiting for the crevices to bond back together until they blossomed into feelings of certainty and candor. He never pushed the process, always letting you grow at your own pace and sharing his sunlight when you needed it most. 

You adapted nicely to the new soil. You left your dirt behind and pulled up your roots to bury them elsewhere. Somewhere more nurtured with eternal blue skies. 

Harry's roots have always been grounded, so the day he left his home pierced thorns in all he's ever known and left him bleeding until you tore off your petals of armor to seal the gash. The cure was in you all along.

You wonder where he is now. 

As you sit alone on the late January grass, no snowfall settling across the blades in rural South Carolina this time of year, you miss his warm presence beside you. The knitted cardigan you wear replaces his skin; the breeze finds secret passageways through every petite hole in the fabric. Your arms, terribly sore from moving boxes all day, could use his own wrapped around them. 

The lake past the lush, rolling hills is gray from the reflection of the clouds above, and the water looks inviting. No other house can be seen for miles. It's what you've dreamed of—a perfect place to start afresh and continue raising your family away from camera flashes and prying questions. You have privacy at last. 

A sudden, soft plucking of guitar strings draws you from your thoughts. The acoustic melody plants seeds in your bones, coursing through the marrow until they lovingly consume your soul.

There he is. 

Music follows him wherever he goes. Even when an instrument is absent from his versed hands, he still carries a symphony with his words. Either sung or spoken, they slip off his tongue with entrancing ease. 

"Look what I found," Harry says in a way that exudes childlike wonder. 

You smile and turn your head, finding him treading toward you while wearing your cardigan and holding a green resonator guitar by its neck. The heavy black case is in his other hand. 

"What box was that in?" you ask, admiring how his hair blows in the wind. It falls into place perfectly. 

"The huge one that I totally didn't have trouble carrying." He smirks at you, narrowing his beautiful green eyes. The light in them is finally back.

Laughing, you watch him set the case down next to you before sitting on it. He then places the guitar on his lap, its curve naturally fitting along his thigh. "Wonder if it's still in tune," he murmurs, twisting the tuning pegs and strumming random chords with his jeweled fingers. 

You're waiting for him to mention how you kept it even through the divorce, but it never comes. You should have a little faith in him for not bringing up that withered phase of life, but it was so miserably monumental that it permeates your mind anyway. 

"Hi," Harry whispers with a hint of shyness, as if he's acknowledging you for the first time. You bask in his natural incandescence. 

"Hi. I wanted to talk to you about something." 

He inhales and nods, absentmindedly playing a few dissonant chords. "Okay." 

"I know this move has been hard on you," you say while looking into his eyes, "and I just want to know how you're feeling." 

The fatal flaw in your relationship's early stages was a lack of communication. It was a bit ironic, considering marriage is built on the mere foundation of it. Perhaps that's why it didn't work out the first time. 

"I feel good." He lightly slaps his hand on the guitar to stop the strings from vibrating. "Really good, actually." 

You could cry with relief. "Yeah?" 

His lips quirk up. "Yeah. I obviously miss Nashville, but I'm starting to love it here." 

You nod understandingly. "It's quiet, you know? So different from the city." 

"I think this move is exactly what we needed. To leave all those bad memories behind." 

Leave your dirt behind. Bloom somewhere new. 

"Can I say something I don't tell you enough?" you ask, tucking strands of windswept hair behind your ears. 

Harry lays the guitar down and begins picking at the dead grass by his feet. "Will it make me cry?" 

"It'll probably make me cry." 

He looks at you for a moment before patting his lap twice. "C'mere. I don't like it when you're far away." 

You stand and then settle sideways on his thighs, his arms instantly circling around your waist. His touch was something that took you a while to allow yourself to accept. It started with longer hugs and holding hands, then soft and lingering kisses on the cheek. They all led to bigger things, like kissing his heart-shaped lips and letting his hands rest on your hips or neck. Making out like teenagers on the couch to make up for lost time felt more purposeful than ever. It felt different this time around, more significant. His touch was a telltale sign that the petals could still be saved from wilting and falling to the frozen ground. 

It was a slow blossoming of sprouts, but he was understanding. That's all you could've asked for. 

"What's on your mind, baby?" Harry quietly asks. 

Unwarranted tears form in your eyes as you look at the man you almost entirely let go of. When your gaze traces the features of his face, you wonder how you would have lived without him. How does someone possibly keep from loving him? You're glad you didn't fall victim to that. 

"I just... I'm so proud of you," you shakily whisper, a teardrop sliding down your cheek. 

Harry's chest deflates. He breaks eye contact, visibly swallowing and rolling his lips in before responding, "I know you are. You've never made me doubt it." 

"But it's not just with your job. Even when we weren't together, I was proud of who you were." 

"You shouldn't have been. I was a mess." 

You shake your head. "The way you still tried to mend things while grieving is something to be proud of, Harry. You should be proud of yourself." 

"I did it because I love you," he says with shimmering eyes. "I did it for her." 

Her, meaning your daughter. She's away with your grandparents for the day while you and Harry unpack and set up the necessary furniture. He does everything for her, and you firmly believe she was the single ray of light in his phases of deep depression. 

"I know, but I was worried about you. No matter how angry I tried to be, I still cared about you so much." You take a deep breath before continuing, "When you came over during the first few months..." You pause and let out a weak sob. "You scared me. You didn't look like yourself, and it fucking terrified me. I remember your cheeks were so... so hollowed." 

Harry looks out at the lake, almost ashamed. His thumbs rub soothing circles on your hips, and you've never been more grateful to see the supple skin on his cheeks today. 

"We never really know grief until it happens to us," he says, laying his head on your shoulder. "I didn't eat for days. Didn't shower. Barely left my bed. I lost myself completely." 

You know you shouldn't apologize, but you do anyway. "I'm sor—"

"Don't," he interrupts. "Please don't." 

"It killed me. I had never seen you so sick." 

"But it led me back to you, didn't it?" He softly kisses your arm and smiles against it. "All that pain led me to this moment, love." 

You rest your hand on his stomach. "That's not the point, though." 

"I think it is," he remarks. "Everyone goes through shit, and everyone learns something from it." 

You sniffle as Harry takes one of your hands and blows warm air onto it. "What did you learn?" 

He stares at you while kissing your wrist. "That your love was worth the fight. And I don't regret fighting my goddamn life for it." 

His love-laced words rush through you like liquid gold and heal every stitch on your heart, leaving only scars behind.

You don't regret diving into his waters anymore. 

——