#my power is endless and unmatched

[front-facing-pokemon]

Just to check do you mind rp blogs reblogging your stuff and like being in character in the tags and such. Bc I know for some that can be offputting

i do not mind! folks have been doing that for a while, and it's totally fine to do that. if i was weirded out by it it would just be a me problem to be honest

sandygast will be an interesting one, i think. it really is just a pile of sand innit

as opposed to using <,> which creates a new tag and can't be placed in the tags, i use the character <‚> which IS a different character. i believe it's a closing lower quotation mark, which can be achieved with ⌥⇧0 using the mac ABC - Extended keyboard layout, which is the best keyboard layout available in my opinion as a linguistics enthusiast, and which i always install extensions for on every computer that i use if it doesn't already have it. it's how i can type pokémon with the é—but also considering i'm a linguist, i have more of a reason to learn all of the cool characters on here. but if you just want to copy and paste it:

‚

use that for all your comma-in-the-tags needs

WE'LL GET THERE CALM DOWN

[asiantransformations]

A Fitting Power-Up

Wei Xun had always been a man of discipline. A Chinese Malaysian fitness influencer, he had built his life around maintaining the perfect physique. Hours spent in the gym, sticking to strict diets, and an intense daily routine had earned him the admiration of millions of followers online. His body—bulging biceps, perfectly sculpted abs, and legs that could press twice his body weight—was a testament to his dedication. But despite all his hard work, he yearned for something more: the stamina, strength, and power that would make him truly unbeatable, something beyond the limits of human potential.

One day, while visiting an ancient temple in the outskirts of Malaysia, Wei Xun encountered a monk renowned for his mystical abilities. The monk, an old man with wise eyes and a quiet, almost otherworldly presence, could sense Wei Xun’s desire for physical perfection.

“Your body is strong, but your spirit still searches for more,” the monk said, his voice like a whisper carried by the wind.

Wei Xun, intrigued by the monk’s insight, nodded. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, but I want to push beyond my limits—to have the strength, power, and stamina no one else has. I want to be invincible.”

The monk studied him for a long moment, then gestured for him to follow. They walked deeper into the temple grounds, where the monk stopped in front of a shrine. From behind the shrine, the monk retrieved an ancient scroll and a pair of simple black sneakers, worn but well-kept.

“These shoes,” the monk said, “can give you what you seek. They will amplify your strength, increase your stamina, and grant you unrivaled power every time you wear them. But the blessing comes with a price.”

Wei Xun’s eyes widened as the monk continued.

“These shoes will channel the energy of the universe into your muscles, your body, and your spirit. You will be more powerful, more virile, more tireless than ever before. However, should another person wear them, the blessing will transfer to them entirely for as long as they wear them. You will lose everything: your power, your strength, your stamina, and even your body itself.”

The weight of the monk’s words settled heavily on Wei Xun’s shoulders. He stared at the shoes, tempted by the power they promised. But the risk was clear—if anyone else wore these shoes, he would lose it all. Still, the lure of the strength they offered was too great to resist.

Wei Xun agreed.

The monk nodded solemnly and began a ritual. He chanted softly under his breath, and as he did, the air around them seemed to shift. Wei Xun watched as the monk dipped his fingers into a small bowl of water, tracing ancient symbols over the shoes. The atmosphere grew heavy with energy, as if the very essence of the temple was being drawn into the sneakers.

Once the blessing was complete, the monk handed the shoes to Wei Xun. “Wear them with caution. The power is yours as long as you guard them wisely.”

From that day on, Wei Xun’s workouts became extraordinary. Every time he wore the blessed sneakers, he felt his muscles surge with unstoppable power. His strength seemed endless—he could lift heavier weights than ever before, and his stamina during workouts became almost superhuman. He could run for miles, train for hours, and still have energy left to spare. His body, already impressive, became even more chiseled and powerful, his muscles bulging with newfound vigor. His virility seemed boundless, and the energy that radiated from him was magnetic, drawing even more admiration from his growing fanbase.

But Wei Xun didn’t take any chances. He knew the danger that came with the shoes. He kept them hidden, locking them in a secure, custom-made safe in his home. The only time he took them out was when he needed an extra boost—whether it was for a critical workout, a fitness competition, or an event where his strength and stamina needed to be unmatched. No one knew of their existence, and he made sure it stayed that way.

Every time he put on the sneakers, he felt the surge of energy flow through him, an unstoppable force that made him feel invincible. But the memory of the monk’s warning always lingered in the back of his mind. He knew that as long as he kept the shoes safe, the power would remain his. But should anyone else ever wear them, everything he had worked for would be gone.

And so, Wei Xun continued to rise in the fitness world, his body a symbol of perfection and strength, his stamina unmatched by anyone. But hidden beneath the surface of his success was the secret of the sneakers—the power they held and the risk that came with them.

Every time he locked them away after a workout, he felt a sense of relief. They were his secret weapon, but they were also his greatest vulnerability. And he knew that as long as he kept them under lock and key, no one would ever take his power away.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Ascended Astarion Manipulation

I'm back on my dark bullshit. Now thinking of your "choice" to be a vampire spawn. Any sane person would refuse, and Astarion is aware of this. So he decides to convince you with some very not good tactics.

Tw: Obsession, manipulation, jealousy, ascended Astarion doing ascended Astarion things, bad, bad, man, toxic relationships

~

Astarion had developed a significant lack of patience ever since reaching Ascension. It was hard to entertain most things when he'd achieved the power to twist the vast majority of situations in his favor. But he was trying his damndest to be patient with you. Despite the fact that your constant refusals made him absolutely furious. You insisted that you loved him, that he was all you would ever want, but yet you still refused to undergo the change.

It's not like he was asking for much, if anything you should be thanking him for the opportunity. He was offering you the gift of immortality, with little to no drawbacks. Besides your unwavering devotion of course. But what was that in the face of absolute freedom? You would never have to worry about a thing again. He would keep you safe and cared for, all while you'd both be free to walk in the sun. He had endless funds now that he had taken over Cazador's estate, unmatched political power in a startlingly short amount of time, considering his work as part of the heroes of Baldur's gate, and the power to obliterate nearly any mortal enemy he could think of. Anything you desired he could give, if you would just let yourself take that final step.

But as much as he wanted to be solely angry at you, he really only had himself to blame. Why had he insisted on being so descriptive about the limitations of being a spawn? He had been such a cowardly moron back then, with no imagination to imagine a better future. And now he was paying for it. While it was true he would never make you a fully fledged vampire, it didn't mean he would mistreat you. He loved you. Adored you more than anything else in existence. And having you as his spawn, his official consort would be for your benefit just as much his. This was the only way he would have complete control over you, fully able to protect you from everything. Including yourself.

But you weren't buying his lies about eventually becoming equals. The offer of giving you everything you ever wanted also fell flat, considering how he was already doing that. He just couldn't help but spoil you.

He had started to wonder if he should just force it. He would prefer not to, but he would if it came to it. But he didn't get this far by not using his brain. Force wasn't the way with you, it never had been. If anything, turning you against your will would just lead to decades of fighting and bickering, something that Astarion would like to avoid if possible. He would hate to make the experience of putting you in your place unpleasant.

No, he would try to be reasonable one more time. And appealing to your emotions, to your guilt, seemed as good a bet as any.

He waited until you were comfortable and relaxed. You were dozing off against his chest in bed while Astarion contemplated the best approach to this conversation. If this didn't work, then he'd just have to bite the bullet and bite you without your consent. Then, he'd probably have to lock you away for a time until you came around to your new state of being, an idea that did send a shiver of excitement up his spine.

But not yet. He was willing to give you one more chance to do the right thing.

He ran the tips of his fingers over your back, taking the time to work up a couple of tears before fully waking you with a seemingly accidental shake. He sniffled loudly, barely managing to hide his smile as you blinked your eyes open. You blearily looked up at him, immediately tensing when you saw the sorrowful expression on his face.

You sat up quickly, concern knitting your brows together as you asked, "Star? What's wrong? What happened?"

Astarion looked away with a shake of his head, "I... I didn't mean to wake you darling. Ignore me, I'll be fine."

You shook your head. You gently turned him back towards you, both hands cupping the sides of his face, "None of that. Tell me? I'll never be able to sleep if I know your upset."

Astarion gripped your wrists as he spoke, his voice soft, "I don't want to upset you."

"You won't," You said, just like Astarion knew you would, "I promise. Just tell me what's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, his voice barely over a whisper when he admitted, "I'm so afraid of losing you, my love. I... I just can't stop thinking about it."

"But I'm not going anywhere-"

"For now," Astarion interrupted, his voice pained. He only had to take a portion of that, "But... one day you'll die. And I won't. I... I don't know how I'll ever live without you."

He could feel you tense up, badly enough for you to almost pull away, but he just tightened the grip he had on your wrists. You sighed, looking away with a guilty frown, "I-we've talked about this. I don't-I'm not ready to be... that."

Astarion could feel that same anger creeping back up at your rejection, but he stomped it down. He could tell that you were semi-buying the act. You were so much smarter then he gave you credit for, never failing to challenge him. Just one more thing he loved about you.

Astarion took a shuddering breath, nuzzling into the palm of your hand, "I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I just... I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," You said softly, "I'm the one who asked."

"But I'm the one who woke you," Astarion argued, "I'm so sorry darling. I want to let this go. I do. But I... I'm scared. Of so many things. I'm afraid that you think... that you think I'm like him. That you don't trust me to take care of you like you deserve. I'm afraid of you dying yes, probably more than anything but... I'm nearly just as terrified of you leaving."

That speech was... a touch too honest for Astarion's liking, but it seemed to be working. He could see tears prickling in your own eyes, your resolve shaken in a way he had yet to seen.

"I-I do trust you. And I know you're not like him. I'm just... I'm scared too. What if... what if you get tired of me? What if you find someone better suited for you? Then I would just... be there. Forever tied to a man who doesn't want me."

That... actually hurt to hear. Didn't you know that you were it for him? That he would set the whole world ablaze if it meant keeping you safe? No one would ever get between the two of you, he'd slaughter anyone who would even dare try.

Astarion finally let go of your wrists, opting to pull you into a tight hug instead. He cradled you against him, whispering in your ear, "That will never happen. You're mine. There is no one else, nothing else, that will ever change that. And if you let me I'll prove it to you, for all eternity."

You were fully crying now, so, so close to breaking. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, one thing that would never be a lie, "And I can't live without you. I won't. It's either forever with you, or my life ends the day yours does."

"Don't say that," You whimpered, "Please don't say that. I-I don't want that for you."

You were so close to him, so distraught. He could smell the siren call of your blood through your skin, calling out to him. He made the choice then and there, he was biting you tonight. Without or without your consent. It would be up to you if it would be a fight or not.

"Then give me this," Astarion pleaded one more time, his real emotions coming to the forefront, "Let me have this life with you. Please my love, let this happen. Let me change you. For me?"

This was it, your last change. Astarion could only hope that you wouldn't disappoint him.

And you didn't, perfect thing that you were. You were nearly sobbing into his shoulder, but you were nodding against him, your voice barely audible through the tears, "Y-Yes, I'll do it. For you. You... you can change me."

That was all the permission that Astarion needed. He was sinking his fangs into your throat before you could even process it, so, so ready to drain you dry.

You gasped at the unexpected pain, but you didn't fight him. You let it happen like the good pet you were, all you had needed was a little push. He could feel you start to fade away, your body becoming more and more lax as you started to die in his arms.

But that was fine. You were about to be reborn into something better, someone who would never be able to leave his side.

This was it. Now, you were his, in every way imaginable.

You would never be away from him again.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Go Heavy on the Red

ALASTOR x (F) READER Summary: SOULMATE AU. To say that you never thought you were made for love would be an understatement. All your life, black was all you knew. Black ink and a faded tattoo. Till you died and met him Warnings: Mentions of death, drunk driving, dugs, alcohol, and sex. Rating: PG-13 For the lovely @anon-of-the-void Requests are OPEN

In the chaotic realm of Hell, where demons and lost souls roamed endlessly, there existed a peculiar demon named Alastor. With a penchant for mischief and a flair for the dramatic, he ruled over his domain with unmatched charisma and power. But beneath his imposing exterior lay a longing, a desire for something more profound than the endless cycle of torment and chaos that he so loved. 

All his life, Alastor’s wrist had been adorned with perfect neat red cursive spelling out the words ‘Going heavy on the red, huh?’. Whoever you were, your handwriting was pristine, perfect for someone like him. Yet, despite this, Alastor never truly believed that he would ever find the soulmate behind the words inked upon him. His tattoo was in red…his soulmate was alive or not yet born. A strange phenomenon for a soulmate not to be born within one’s time but then again Alastor was a strange phenomenon in and of himself. 

You were no different. To say that you never thought you were made for love would be an understatement. All your life, black was all you knew. Black ink and a faded tattoo. ‘New to the whole being dead thing my dear?’ Your soulmate was dead, you always wondered how. You were born with the ink so black and murky that it looked like a void space. The handwriting was a fine print, definitely from a time long past. It looked as though it was printed by an old typewriter or someone who had an orderly and steady hand. Crisp and clean. Maybe your soulmate was like that too?

But fate is an even crueler mistress, and despite laying on the load of soulmates from different eras - your mortal thread was also fragile. As the years passed, your time on Earth drew to a close and when you closed your eyes for the last time after being slammed into by a drunk driver - you awoke not to pearly white gates but deep dark brimstone ones. Your bearings were slim and despite trying to orient yourself to your new environment, nothing was working. 

Slowly working your way along the smoky streets, you peered upon an ad for a hotel - the Hazbin Hotel to be precise. The ad was clearly hand drawn with what seemed to be childish crayon but nonetheless the happy picture seemed to stand out amongst the dismal exterior. Following the directions, the streets you walked were perilous. Screaming, crying, the heavy smell of alcohol, sex, and sin filled your nose. Holding your stomach, you convinced yourself that expelling the contents of your stomach right before you approach a hotel didn’t seem like the best idea. You would at least wait to find a decent bathroom…if there was such a thing in this place. In fact, where were you anyway? 

Soon, you came to gaze upon an older structure with a giant vacancy sign. Entering the Hotel, you observed your surroundings. A…cat…stood at the bar with a…spider demon there too? A shorter hyperactive woman ran around with a knife…and were those walking eggs?! 

“OH MY GOSH!! Hello~! Welcome to the Hotel, my name is Charlie!” Without warning a younger woman with blonde hair and a red suit came up and shook your hand furiously. Dazed and confused, you shook back slowly. 

“Oh, hello.”

“So wonderful sinner, would you like a room?”

“Wait, um sinner? I..I am not a sinner.”

“But you are—oh. OH. I see. You’re new!”

“Umm..new to what exactly?”

“Oh, this…this is Hell. You…died?”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. You saw the headlights, he sped through the red light. Crash. Now..now you’re here. Not in your car where you were. But here. In Hell. Hell, the supposedly a fiery pit of destruction and seduction that held the most enigmatic and psychotic of characters.

“Well, let’s get you settled in! Come on, I want to introduce you to everyone!”

Grabbing your arm and dragging you around the Hotel, Charlie introduced you to everyone in an effort to get your bearings and settle down. Little did you know that from the shadows a figure lurked. Watching with glowing red eyes, Alastor peered and sized up this newcomer to the Hotel. Fresh meat was always a good idea and especially with all the changes going around, he felt a need to grasp onto some entertainment. Distract himself with unworthy souls who would fail here spectacularly. 

His soulmate tattoo had turned black this morning and his mind began to reel with all the possibilities. Would his soulmate be in Heaven or in Hell like himself? Would fate be too cruel again and separate them not only across time but planes of death? Throughout the day, his wrist started to burn with a fiery pain. They were close…and as this newcomer approached the Hotel, his interest peaked. Maybe they knew something, he would find out sooner or later.

“Alastor, where are you? We have a new guest for you to meet! Oh, he may be a bit creepy but just don’t try and focus on that.”

With a flicker of shadow, Alastor appeared in front of you in all his 1930s red pinstripe radio glory. His voice was static with radio waves, he extended his hand to you.

“Going heavy on the red, huh?”

Static crackle. His grip tightened around your own as he heard your words. With an evil crackle he spoke with a smirk.

“New to the whole being dead thing my dear” 

Alastor's grin widened as he reached out, grasping your hand and drawing closer to his wrist.

 "Look closely, my dear," He started tracing the intricate patterns etched into their skin. "Do you see it?"

Your eyes widened in awe as you beheld the tattoos adorning their wrists, glowing softly amidst the darkness of Hell. "It... it's...," you trailed off, breath catching in your throat.

"Our soulmate tattoos," Alastor finished, his voice softening with an unexpected tenderness. "Fate's cruel joke on us my dear has come to an end."

For a moment, you were speechless, heart pounding with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. "I... I never imagined..." you began, voice trailing off as you searched for the right words. 

But before you could speak further, Alastor locked his gaze with yours in an unspoken promise. Manipulation has its place and it was Alastor’s preferred tool. 

"In this realm of chaos and despair, we may have found each other against all odds," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of Hell. "But together, my dear Y/N, we shall defy fate itself."

And as they stood there, their souls intertwined in a bond that transcended the boundaries of Hell, you knew that they had found not only their salvation, but also your truest companion amidst the darkness. Alastor knew that he had found his only weakness, the tinge of his dark black heart beating once again. Feelings he knew were real despite his aversion to such moments. Maybe hiding and indulging in this one weakness wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

[tsunaaism]

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | Miya Twins.

"Such prowess; such beauty... are not for humans to witness."

Pairings: Immortal!Reader x Miya Atsumu x Miya Osamu

Genre: Fantasy, Mystery.

Words: 970

Warnings: A little, teeny-tiny bit suggestive.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (you're here.)

The night is empty. Silence engulfs the forest; the atmosphere is devoid of anything but the waterfall’s stream. Gravel crunches beneath your feet, jagged edges threatening to tear. Freezing water pours over your form, the flow cooling your mind.

The truth has always been there; not in hiding nor beneath a spotlight. Simply idling in your peripherals.

“It wasn’t ignorance.”

The waterfall continues to wash over your form as your voice lulls within the empty air.

“It’s indifference.”

Over the fact that you needed the imperial family—Shinsuke Kita and his father—his grandpas and his ancestors. You needed humans. Their thoughts. Their memories. Their desires—their prayers.

The waterfall’s crashes no longer resounds. Your eyes flutters open. The river had dried up, leaving the moonlight’s fragmented glow. A large basin of water circulates above your form. Your worries must’ve gotten to you. Slowly, they swirl around—flowing—returning to where they belong. As everything falls back into place, the river streams again.

Benjirō was someone you couldn’t have lived without. You took a deep breath, listening to the caws of the crows. A God created from words and desperation. From the half-assed drawing you had stuck on the civillians door thousands of years ago, and the thousands of battles you fought.

Simply a myth, and yet, he lives. He thrives.

But so do you.

If the famed war hero is forgotten, so would your existence. After all, immortality is a bliss; one every elusive beings of the world dreams of. When the actuality of a mythical being is forgotten—then the world erases them.

Ironic, right? Possessing unmatched knowledge and power, yet having to rely on the mere desires of humans—their selfish needs.

The caws of the crows morphs into the swallows chirps. The forest glows a yellow hue. You sigh, ending your meditation this night. The water sloshes in your leave, no traces of you within the forest.

Ah, yes. Back home.

Except it’s all over the place.

Papers littered over the engawa. Ink spills over the fallen table and wooden floor. Only darkness was palpable inside—as if an endless tunnel. A smudged drag of blood stops near the opening of the door. The small sparrow twitches, trying to salvage whatever bit of life it has.  

It has only been a day since you left.

Slow footsteps ring in your ears. But far—faraway. Almost as if they’re hidden deep inside the house. The scent of burnt incense mingles with an animalic odor. You feel blood rushing through your heart, beating slower… and slower.

Yōkais. You were right.

“You are scared.” You walk closer to the sparrow, scooping the carcass into your hand, “Both of you.”

You placed it on an untainted paper.

“I don’t like when someone turns my home into a nest, you know?”

You step inside. Still, nothing but pitch black darkness. It reeks of musk and blood.

“Especially when it smells like foxes.”

A screech echoes. A deep growl follows. You suppose all Kitsunes hated to be called foxes. The word does sound domesticating.

From far, faraway—a lantern-lit figure walks to you. Slowly. Almost drifting. You smile. The structure of the house is gone, replaced by an endless dark void. No traces of the door you stepped into.

“Lady.” A mature, masculine figure drifts closer. Yellowed hair flows like burning ember. He smiles beneath his ironically fox-shaped mask. You stifle a laugh.

“—Or should I say,” A whisper’s warm breath looms behind your ear. Its sudden appearance doesn’t bother you. The fox with the lantern inches closer, now standing idly in front of you.

“Child of Vaiśravaṇa.”

“Fragment of Bishamonten.”

Both whispers in unison, dangerously close.

“You’re the one.” A thin, sharp claw draws circle behind your neck, “Who should come home.”

“I am home.” You muse, “I am everywhere.”

“Is that so?” The blonde kitsune raises his lantern. Light glints upon his hazel eyes, “Yet, you co-exist. Helped humans. Are you.. dying? Has the… Ōmikami rejected you?”

“Or have you… rejected the Gods?”

“Such power,” The sharp claw continues to glide over your back, almost tearing the fabric of your yukata, “Such prowess. Such… beauty. Are not for humans to witness.”

Deftly, your hand cracked the wrists of the fox behind you. Within a blink of an eye, you flew over both of the Kitsune’s figure. They didn’t move, still adorning the smile they’ve always had on—even as a child.

“We know of your capability.” A chime echoes within the void, “We do not wish to fight, Lady.”

Yellow hair, grey hair. Which one is which, you wondered?

The grey kitsune healed his cracked wrist with a lick. His eyes pierces through you as he continues to fix his wounds.

“Insolent cats.” Your vision sharpened, “Take your masks off.”

Surprisingly, they do. With a snap, their masks fall, coming undone. Sharp eyes stare at your form. The rounded features of the faux children are long gone; replaced by strong, almost angelic features.

You scoff.

“Shapeshifting foxes.”

A familiar cold stings your hand, glowing red. Sparks of darkened electricity swirls around your fingers. You relished in the burn as the spear merges into your grip.

“What do you intend?” Your words echoes like a gale, “What dared you to deceive me?”

“Us?” A strong wind fills the void. Their claws sharpened. Light strikes your vision, the void flashing into an endless blooming forest. Pink petals sway in the air. The pungent scent of honeyed florals invades your lungs, as if a perfume masking the scent of blood.

Sun falls from crevices of the trees. Soft, mossy grass covered achres of rich soil. Flowers bloom at every wake of the Kitsunes movement. The green landscape moves—alive, singing. Rabbits and deers gathered, surrounding the foxes. They gaze to you.

“Come,”

“With us.”

@chaseyui @malinq-ashida @allykat7599 @underratedmage @dazaisfavgf @denkisclown @ku-ragee @officiallyjaehyuns @sabrina-senpai @zukiakiraa

Sorry for just continuing this after like.. three years. Hihi. Just got a break! Coming back to writing and continuing some stuffs very-very soon. Putting this out before laying out all da big guns 🫡.

[alternate-real-ities]

Hi. It would be interesting to know how you look into other universes? Do you have any kind of device or magical abilities? Can you demonstrate this on me?

Hey there, cutie 😉. Thank you for your intriguing question about how I perceive other universes and realities beyond our own. While I do not possess any magical abilities, I have developed a remarkable device that allows me to peer into the multiverse. My machine utilizes advanced quantum computing technology coupled with exotic matter as the energy source. It allows me to access specific realities with decent clarity by calibrating it carefully.

To demonstrate this capability for you, I would be happy to show you some alternate realities where you're still as stunning as you are now, only in a different way:

Here's a universe where you are instead Filipino. Here, your hair is a deep black with just the slightest hint of waviness at the top, framing your heart-shaped face perfectly. You possess a boyish face that makes anyone weak in the knees at first glance. When you smile, it's like seeing a whole world open up.

Your chest is smooth and flat, leading down to your soft belly and then tapering off into elegant legs that show little signs of hair. You are so small and delicate that it's hard to imagine that below all that innocence hides a deep lust for a big strong man to hold you up and do with you as he pleases.

-

Now, let's pay a visit to a previous dimension I like to call "Arab World". At the pinnacle of this society are the most perfectly engineered humans - those with Arab DNA that has been optimized through generations of careful selection, genetic tweaking and breeding to create individuals of unparalleled physical perfection and mental acuity. In this universe, you are an alpha of unparalleled might, your virility unmatched by any who have come before. You take great pride in your genetic superiority, knowing that no mere mortal could ever compare to your perfection.

You are blessed with a virile physique, muscular form sculpted by years of intense physical training. Your bulging chest and rock-hard abs speak to your boundless strength and vitality. In the gym at your lavish estate, you push yourself to the limits, determined to maintain peak condition.

But as much as you appreciate fine living and opulence, your true passion lies in power, conquest, and sexual domination of lesser beings. As an elite Arab alpha ruler, you take immense pride and pleasure in asserting your superiority over those beneath you, including your slaves.

-

To end this showcase gracefully, let me show you one last reality which might be my favourite. In this dimension, one of your parents is black, and as such you were born to become an handsome lightskin man.

You are an absolute fuckboy, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Your life is one endless string of parties, workouts, flirting, and fucking. You are utterly shameless about flaunting your body to anyone who will look. At the gym, you make sure every single rep is perfectly calibrated for maximum muscle growth. You strike poses, flexing and posing with a confident swagger that lets everyone know just how goddamn hot you are. The mirror loves you as much as you do.

Your nightlife consists of endless nights out on the town. You're always down to hit up the trendiest clubs in the city, the hottest bars, the flashiest parties. Your social media is filled with steamy selfies showcasing off your bodacious physique - pecs popping from tight tank tops, washboard abs glistening as you do ab crunches against a wall. Fans and admirers drool over every inch of exposed skin.

You are always on the prowl for a special someone to show off and bring home - some unsuspecting twink who can't resist getting lost in your world of pleasure and excitement. The way you touch them, caress their skin with lingering fingertips, leans into them with smoldering intensity - it's enough to make even the most experienced bottom moan like a bitch in heat.

-

These are just some examples of the diverse array of alternate realities that my machine allows me to access and observe from afar. Although, with the timeline converger project I'm currently working on, it may one day become possible for me to physically transform you as well if we both so desire.

As a side note, I'd like to thank you for your patience! I know I took a lot of time, but calibrating my machine takes quite some time if one wants to see realities that aren't as normal and boring as ours. I hope it was worth your time, because I'm sure it was worth mine 😉 See you next time!

[zunairaghazalsultan]

Once Upon a Lifetime

Summary: SasuSaku! RoyalAU. Sakura wins the raffle to become Sasuke's queen - but will she ever win the raffle to his heart?

A/N: Years and years ago, I read The Conspiracy by miko-chan (does she still exist here?), and I've always had this plot bunny in my mind about this AU. Today, after years and years I feel full and inspired enough to have begun writing it. As with all things I put to paper, it became much more dramatic than I had intended (which was a rom-com), but I hope you like it as much as I do.

-

CHAPTER 1

The palace halls of Nippon Koku had grown quiet in recent months, a far cry from the bustling, vibrant energy they once held under King Itachi Uchiha. Itachi had always been a symbol of peace and stability, a king beloved by the people for his kindness and wisdom. His reign was marked by prosperity, his presence a constant reassurance that the kingdom was in capable hands. He often walked amongst the people, speaking with them, learning their stories, ensuring that they knew their voices were heard. He ruled with a grace that felt innate, as though he had been born for the crown.

But the sickness changed everything.

It began as fatigue, something small that Itachi dismissed for months. But as his health deteriorated, the palace’s publicists worked tirelessly to cover for his absence, feeding the public narratives of his diplomatic missions or strategic retreats. Yet the truth couldn’t be hidden forever. Itachi’s illness—cancer—soon became too severe to mask. His once-vibrant energy was drained by the endless treatments, leaving him pale and frail, a shadow of the king he once was. When the official announcement of his condition was made, it devastated the kingdom. The people mourned the idea of losing a king they had loved so deeply. But even more shocking was the revelation that Itachi would step down permanently. The throne would pass to his younger brother, Sasuke Uchiha.

Sasuke had never been a public figure. While Itachi was warm and approachable, Sasuke was distant, cold, and often appeared angry or solemn in public. Few saw him beyond his stoic exterior, and fewer still believed he could ever fill his brother's shoes. Where Itachi was loved, Sasuke was feared. And fear, as the Uchiha family well knew, could only take a king so far.

Still, Sasuke had prepared for this moment in his own way. Though reluctant to take the throne, he had always been a strategist at heart, one who picked his allies carefully. Before the crown fell on his head, Sasuke had curated his circle with meticulous precision. His personal assistant, Neji Hyūga, was among his most trusted. The Hyūga family, one of the most powerful noble houses in the kingdom, had long held influence in matters of governance and diplomacy. Neji, with his stoic demeanor and unparalleled intellect, was a key asset to Sasuke. While his outward appearance was calm, his mind was always analyzing, calculating, ready to provide counsel at a moment’s notice. His presence was quiet but powerful, a figure of silent authority who moved through the palace with an unspoken grace.

Sasuke had also selected Shikamaru Nara as his publicist. While the Nara family wasn’t as politically powerful as the Hyūgas, Shikamaru’s intellect was unmatched. Known for his laziness on the surface, those who truly understood Shikamaru knew that his mind worked faster than anyone else’s. He saw moves before they were even conceived. Sasuke had chosen him not just for his intelligence, but for his ability to manipulate narratives—to craft the kind of public image that Sasuke sorely needed. It was Shikamaru’s job to turn the kingdom’s doubt into trust, to make the people believe that Sasuke, like his brother, was their rightful king.

And now, in the conference room of the Uchiha Palace, that task had reached its most controversial proposal yet.

-

The Uchiha council chamber was filled with the murmurs of discontent. Seated around a long mahogany table were the highest-ranking members of the kingdom’s council, ministers, advisors, and the royal family themselves. The polished elegance of the room, with its tall windows and golden drapes, did little to quell the rising tension.

Nippon Koku, one of the most influential kingdoms in the modern world, was a unique blend of tradition and progress. While its monarchy was centuries old, the state also had a powerful parliamentary system, where elected officials played a crucial role in governance. But when it came to the most significant decisions—especially those involving the royal family—the monarchy’s word was still law. The kingdom’s strength came from its strategic trade position, a dominating influence in technology, rare minerals, and military advancements, which had propelled it to one of the top economic powers in the world. Nippon Koku’s wealth was born from a combination of traditional industries and modern trade routes that connected it with every major continent. It thrived on global commerce, naval power, and technological innovation, making it a hub for diplomacy and commerce alike.

And now, the fate of that kingdom was being debated in a room divided by uncertainty.

The debate had been raging for over an hour, with Fugaku Uchiha leading the opposition. Sasuke sat quietly, his hands folded in front of him, watching as voices were raised, tempers flared, and objections poured in from every corner of the table. His calm exterior hid the storm within.

“This proposal is outrageous,” one of the ministers, an elderly man with a greying beard, barked. “We cannot afford to tarnish the royal family’s prestige by choosing a commoner as the future queen. What would the rest of the world think of us?”

“It’s a reckless idea,” another chimed in. “We are already struggling with public sentiment since the announcement of Itachi’s illness. Do you really believe a raffle will strengthen the monarchy?”

Shikamaru, who had been lounging in his chair, let out a quiet sigh, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. “It’s not about prestige,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise. “It’s about survival. The people aren’t questioning the monarchy because of tradition—they’re questioning it because Sasuke hasn’t connected with them. This raffle would be a bridge between him and the people. It shows them that the king is willing to step down from the pedestal.”

Before anyone could respond, the doors to the chamber swung open, and in strode the Prime Minister of Nippon Koku—Naruto Uzumaki. His entrance was anything but subtle, his vibrant energy seeming to fill the room. Dressed in formal robes, but with a brightness in his eyes that never seemed to dull, Naruto radiated confidence.

“Alright, alright! What’s all this noise about?” Naruto said, his voice booming across the chamber with a mixture of humor and authority. “I can hear you guys arguing from the other side of the palace.” He looked around the room, taking stock of the tension before focusing on Sasuke. “You look like you could use some backup.”

Fugaku’s stern gaze met Naruto’s. “Prime Minister, you surely understand the implications of this proposal. A raffle for a commoner bride? How can we expect the people or the international community to respect such a spectacle?”

Naruto tilted his head, considering the words for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face. “Respect? We’re talking about more than respect, Fugaku-san. We’re talking about trust. And if there’s one thing I know about Sasuke,” he said, glancing at his childhood friend, “it’s that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure this kingdom stays strong. Even if it means breaking tradition.”

Fugaku opened his mouth to protest, but Naruto raised his hand, cutting him off. “The people need to see that Sasuke isn’t just sitting on a throne, hiding behind the palace walls. They need to know he’s willing to make tough decisions for their sake. And let’s be real—the world is watching. They’re watching to see if we’re stuck in the past or if we’re ready to lead the future.”

Naruto took a seat next to Sasuke, giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder. “Besides, don’t you think it would be kind of cool to show that the future queen of Nippon Koku could be one of the people? It sends a message—a strong one. We’re not an old-fashioned monarchy anymore. We’re adaptable. And when we say we value the people, we mean it.”

Fugaku’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying we should let anyone, just anyone, be considered as the next queen?”

Shikamaru leaned forward, his voice sharp. “No, we’re saying we control the process. It’s not just anyone. It’s anyone who passes a set of strict criteria—a vetting process. Clean medical history, education, intelligence. The people get to think it’s a raffle, but we’re the ones who decide who makes it through. It’s a win-win.”

Naruto grinned. “And let’s not forget, we’re going to have to bring Sasuke back into the spotlight. People haven’t seen much of him. This whole process—interacting with the people, going through the motions of the raffle—puts him front and center. The people will see their king again, and this time, they’ll start to understand him.”

There was a quiet murmur in the room, as the council processed Naruto’s words. The Prime Minister’s vibrant charisma and political savvy had always made him a formidable ally to Sasuke, and despite their opposition, the ministers couldn’t deny that there was a certain appeal to the idea. The kingdom needed unity, and perhaps this was the unconventional answer they hadn’t anticipated.

Neji, who had been standing quietly to the side throughout the entire exchange, finally spoke. His voice was calm, steady, and as always, carried weight. “This plan isn’t without risks, but it addresses a deeper issue. The kingdom is vulnerable right now. This initiative would buy us time. Time to heal the people’s trust, time for Sasuke to establish his rule.”

His words, though few, echoed in the chamber. Even Fugaku seemed to consider them more carefully, his sharp gaze shifting between Sasuke, Naruto, and Neji.

All eyes turned to Sasuke. He had listened in silence, his sharp mind absorbing every word, every argument. Now, his gaze was fixed on his father.

“We’re not running a kingdom on tradition alone anymore,” Sasuke said, his voice low but firm. “The world has changed. We’re a global power because we adapt, because we know how to control the narrative. And right now, that’s what we need. Control.”

He turned his gaze to the entire council, his dark eyes cold and calculating. “Shikamaru’s plan gives us that control. We’ll make the people feel part of the process, while ensuring that we get exactly the bride we need. The world will see us as strong, progressive. We’re not stuck in the past, but we don’t compromise on what matters.”

Finally, Sasuke gave a small, sharp nod. “Run the raffle. But we do it our way.”

The decision hung in the air, final and unchallengeable. The council fell silent, knowing that Sasuke’s word was now law. Naruto leaned back with a satisfied grin, while Shikamaru gave a subtle smirk of approval.

The future of Nippon Koku had just taken an unexpected turn.

[franniewhat]

Pretty, Rich, Gorgeous Girl Affirmations

I am a stunning, gorgeous girl who always gets what I want instantly.

I am effortlessly beautiful; everyone admires my beauty and grace.

I am rich beyond my wildest dreams, and money flows to me effortlessly.

I always get everything I desire the moment I ask for it.

The universe loves spoiling me; I receive everything I want with ease.

I am a pretty, powerful girl who attracts only luxury, beauty, and success.

My beauty and wealth are undeniable, and I am always treated like royalty.

I manifest my desires quickly and easily because I deserve the best.

I am magnetic to everything I want; it always comes to me immediately.

My life is a perfect reflection of the beautiful, rich girl I am.

I am living my dream life, surrounded by luxury, beauty, and abundance.

I am so beautiful that everyone is captivated by me wherever I go.

Money, love, and success are always chasing me because I am irresistible.

I attract high-vibrational people and experiences that uplift and empower me.

I don’t chase, I attract. What belongs to me simply finds its way to me.

My confidence is sky-high, and people are naturally drawn to my energy.

I have everything I need and more because the universe always provides for me.

I am the ultimate dream girl—pretty, rich, and living a life of luxury.

I get whatever I want, whenever I want, because I am a powerful manifester.

My beauty opens doors for me, and my wealth keeps me living the best life.

I am spoiled by life, and I love how easy everything is for me.

People love to give me things and opportunities because I am so lovable and pretty.

I always have more than enough money to live my dream life and beyond.

I am glamorous, successful, and adored by everyone who meets me.

My entire life is full of luxury, abundance, and everything I’ve ever wanted.

I live in my dream world, where every desire I have is met instantly.

I am always winning, and life is completely in my favor.

Everything in my life comes to me so easily; it’s like magic.

I am a beautiful, rich girl who always lives in the lap of luxury.

I don’t even have to try—everything I want just falls into place perfectly.

My beauty and wealth are unmatched, and I live life like the goddess I am.

I always get treated like a queen because I carry myself like one.

I manifest everything I want faster than ever before, and I love it!

I am the prettiest, richest girl in the room, and everyone notices.

I radiate beauty, wealth, and power in every aspect of my life.

I always get what I want, and I deserve it because I am extraordinary.

Everything I touch turns to gold, and my life is filled with riches and beauty.

My life is an endless series of wonderful surprises and instant manifestations.

I attract only the best—people, experiences, and everything luxurious.

I am adored, pampered, and cherished by the universe and everyone around me.

And so it is!!

[teacup-gathering-itself]

god I just love the idea of power couple Lucius and Narcissa. Bc there’s no WAY they weren’t the it couple when they were in school. Give me House of Black and House Malfoy alliance and brilliant slytherin students just quietly being the example of traditional pureblood culture. No need to make it political yet, but just a historical couple with a different air about them.

I’m talking the clothes with hints to their ancestry, bobbins and trinkets centuries old, family jewelry, lavish courting gifts, the most intricate etiquette, loving looks across the hallways, whispered adorations, interlocked pinkies, love letters, imported snacks being slipped into book bags, pieces of commissioned music, bespoke clothes with no price tag bc if you need to ask, you can’t afford it.

Just let them be young and falling in love with a modest amount of distance and an overwhelming amount of vanity and money. They’re sneaky, with unmatched pedigrees, and they breathe traditions millennia old, their journey from being paired for marriage by their families to falling in love is FASCINATING.

I want to see what unspeakable wealth looks like when it marries other unspeakable wealth and then falls head over heels. Like. The possibilities for romantic gestures are literally endless. What is considered too much? They’re a wonderful way for my brain to explore pureblood high society and a quieter, more subtle sequence of romance.

just imagining their courting period and engagement let alone the event of the decade: that WEDDING. Lord.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

heavensward-- bitter pill

(some time before helping Artoiel out in Coerthas Western Highlands)

Haurchefant had learned that when he was in a mood, it was best for him to identify the source and the reason why his temper was up. To confront it head on, force himself to accept it, and then work with whatever solution he could come up with. Sometimes the resolutions were bitter, but he could always soothe the sting.

Not this time.

The training dummies were in sorry shape, having been the victims of both sword and shield since the Silver Fuller had locked himself in the training room. Yet Haurchefant wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. His body moved through the training drills on automatic, his mind racing. The memory of what he’d witnessed this morning stuck on endless repeat inside his brain.

----

They’d been at breakfast—himself, his father, his brothers, and Riven. There’d been no sign of Alphinaud but that was almost normal now, the younger elezen getting up early in the mornings to meet with Tataru. Then the House steward had come in…

“Ser Augustine Truehart requests an audience with you all, my lords. The young lord Alphinaud is with him.”

“Truehart?!” Artoiel exclaimed. “What does he want to see all of us about?” Everyone knew of Augustine, one of the most powerful knights of the city. His skill in combat was unmatched, as was his dedication to Halone. His reputation was a bit checkered however, it was common knowledge he’d defied the Archbishop’s edict against leaving and had gone to train at the Gladiator’s Guild in U’ldah, even becoming a popular Bloodsands fighter. He’d returned to Ishgard some years ago and had won a coveted place in one of the more elite paladin orders. Rumors had it that he’d been tied with both Zephrim de Valhourdin and Aymeric de Borel for the positions of the Very Reverend Archimandrite of the Heavens’ Ward and Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. Edmont nodded to the steward.

“Give them leave.” He instructed. The servant bowed and left. Moments later the dining room door opened. Alphinaud was the first to walk in, with Augustine trailing him. There was a look of determination on his face.

“My lords.” Alphinaud stopped and offered a bow, Augustine mirroring him. “I beg pardon for disturbing you.”

“No apologizes needed.” Edmont replied. “Ser Truehart, you honor us with your presence—and I admit, have sparked some curiosity. Have you come here to issue a challenge to my sons again for the upcoming tournament?”

“No, my lord.” Augustine answered, a faint smile appearing on his face. “I will not be participating in any tournaments soon. Which I confess, does rob me of the chance to spar with the lords Fortemps and Fuller.”

“Come to Camp Dragonhead, friend!” Haurchefant invited. “I am most certainly eager for a rematch, and perhaps you will show me some of the Ul’dans’ tricks!” Augustine offered a faint smile at that, but his eyes flicked to Alphinaud. There was…anxiety in the paladin’s eyes, Haurchefant realized. His interactions with Augustine had always been brief, but never had he seen the paladin be nothing but stoic. A quick glance around the table showed him that both Artoirel and Emmanellain had caught the uncharacteristic display as well.

What’s going on?

“Ser Augustine approached me early this morning, which resulted in us having to speak with Tataru.” Alphinaud broke into the silence. “He has…come to a decision, which we both have said yes to—and covers a topic we had been debating with you, Riven.”  Riven blinked at that, tilting her head. Alphinaud turned to look at the armored Hyur.

“Augustine?”

“As of today, I have joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn in my full capacity as a paladin of Ishgard.” Augustine declared. His pronouncement was met with surprise from the Fortemps men—but Haurchefant noted, minimal from Riven. Which would make sense, she and Augustine had crossed paths before. The paladin continued.

“I was…made an offer to join, back when I was a Bloodsands gladiator in Ul’dah. Thancred Waters sought me out, having correctly deduced that I also carried the same gift as the Antecedent and Riven. I refused.”

“The Echo.” Artoirel breathed. “Ser Truehart! You…” Augustine’s bicolored gaze flicked to the older Fortemps son and he nodded.

“Yes. The Mothercrystal blessed me with its’ gift when I was younger. But as I grew older, I feared that I would be taken up for heresy by the Inquisition. I left Ishgard not only to expand my training in combat, but to try and find a way to control my power.” A rueful smile made Augustine’s lips twitch. “I had great success with the first…not so much with the second.”

“Life would be significantly easier if we could control the Echo.” Riven said, offering her own sardonic smile.

“Why did you refuse the Scions’ offer?” Edmont asked, frowning.

“I had learned the Broken Blade had begun their search for aspirants.” Augustine answered, naming his paladin order. “If I had joined the Scions, I would not have been able to return home and continue following my dream.”  He exhaled.

“I…had to choose.” His gaze lifted, casting around the room. “Something that I have…always felt guilty for.”

“Tis not guilt you should feel, Ser Augustine!” Haurchefant exclaimed. “If anything, the timing was wrong!”

“Indeed.” Alphinaud asserted. “Having you join us as a general man-at-arms, especially at this moment is a great boon. And…well, regarding the other matter…” The white-haired elezen glanced at Riven, who blinked.

“Other matter?” She repeated. Augustine looked at Alphinaud. The Sharlayan scholar nodded. The paladin inhaled, steeling himself, Haurchefant noted with surprise. Squaring his shoulders, he marched away from Alphinaud, heading to Riven’s seat at the breakfast table. The brunette watched him advance, confusion written all over her face.

“Augustine?” The paladin didn’t reply, stopping to stand next to her. “What…what are you—what are you doing?!” The last part of the sentence came out in a yelp as Augustine suddenly knelt before the chair. One hand went to grip the hilt of his sword, the other rested on his knee, and his head bowed.

“My lady Salder, Hydaelyn’s favored daughter and Warrior of Light. I offer to you my service freely.” One could hear a pin drop in the dining room. “I commit to your command my sword, my shield, and my life. I give into your keeping my fealty and service, which under the eyes of Halone, can only be released by your will, gross misconduct, or my death. Your enemies will become my enemies, your allies will become my allies. Allow me to be the bulwark between you and all harm.”

-----

Exhaustion rolled through Haurchefant. With a shaky sigh he pulled his sword free of the dummy, idly watching as straw and wood finally gave up the fight to stay assembled. Both tumbled down to sprawl across his feet, sad little splinters and mangled husks. Sweat rolled down his face, chest and back, and Haurchefant closed his eyes.

I…cannot…  Oh, the jealousy and rage that had suddenly overtaken him at that moment. The nerve of Augustine, the fucking gall for him to presume to take a place that he…could not have. Dimly Haurchefant could remember Riven’s protesting—

“Augustine—no! I’m not…worthy of such…”

His father had moved then, quickly pulling Riven away to talk with her. He’d shot Haurchefant a look for him to come as well—but Haurchefant had disobeyed, rooted to his chair, staring at Augustine. Artoirel had stepped in, and the trio had left the room briefly. Alphinaud had followed. Whatever they’d spoken of it must have convinced Riven, for minutes later she’d returned…

Walked over to the paladin, shy and twisting her hands—but then she’d squared her shoulders too, straightening her spine and looking at him…

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

And all Haurchefant could do was watch, bile boiling in his stomach. Raging against the fact that he was already forsworn—to Halone, to Ishgard. Bite back the anger that it was he who had been supporting Riven from the very start, not this…prettyboy knight. He wanted to be the one swearing fealty to her, he wanted to be the one joining the Scions! He…

Was forsworn and he knew it. He could no more leave his post than a tiger could change its stripes. He’d laid in his path long ago, fighting tooth, nail, and claw to carve out a place for himself in his home, in his family, in his father’s heart.

Timing, Alphinaud had said. Haurchefant had to admit the teen was right, even though it was a bitter and hard pill to swallow. He had been perfectly placed to help Riven and the Scions…just as Augustine had been perfectly placed to become her sworn-knight. There was no better man to protect her from the prowling wolves of the nobility and church.

But it hurt. It hurt so much. And alone in the training room, Haurchefant had to admit why not even the thought of Riven’s safety being in good hands could ease the pain.

He liked her.

He loved her.

But it was never going to be.

--------

(a thank you to @saesama and @chysgoda for helping me figure out paladin oaths!)

[storiesofmyhead]

Gojo Satoru

Summary: Gojo Satoru x Sukuna's immortal sister, Yume.

Warnings: Sad, fluff, death

In a world where curses and jujutsu sorcery intertwined with the fabric of existence, power often meant everything. Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, had always lived at the pinnacle of this power, unmatched and unrivaled. However, there was one story that even he had never heard, a tale hidden deep within the annals of history, buried by time and forgotten by all except the few who dared remember. It was the story of Sukuna’s immortal sister.

Her name was Yume, and she had been a legend long before Sukuna's reign of terror. Unlike her brother, who was feared for his unmatched cruelty and strength, Yume was known for her grace, wisdom, and the terrifying power she held within. Her immortality wasn’t a gift but a curse, one bestowed upon her by the gods themselves as punishment for defying the natural order. She was ageless, bound to wander the world forever, watching as empires rose and fell, as the world changed, while she remained the same.

Yume had no desire for power, no craving for dominance like her brother. She sought peace, a way to end her eternal suffering, but she found none. Her presence was enough to twist reality, to make curses stronger, to bend the rules of life and death. This made her a target, a coveted prize for those who sought to use her for their own ends. But Yume was elusive, vanishing into the shadows of time, always a step ahead of those who pursued her.

It was in one of these fleeting moments, during the dawn of a new era of sorcery, that she encountered Gojo Satoru.

Gojo had always been curious about the legends that surrounded Sukuna. The more he learned about the King of Curses, the more intrigued he became by the stories of Sukuna’s sister. Most dismissed her as a myth, a ghost of the past, but Gojo knew better than to underestimate the power of legend. He could feel the weight of her existence in the world, a presence that defied the logic of sorcery.

His search for her led him to the ruins of an ancient temple, hidden deep within a forest that seemed to exist outside of time. The air was thick with an unnatural energy, a sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Gojo pushed forward, his six eyes piercing through the veils of reality, until he reached the heart of the temple.

There, standing amidst the crumbling remains of what was once a grand sanctuary, was Yume. Her presence was ethereal, almost otherworldly, with long, flowing hair that seemed to shimmer with the light of a thousand stars. Her eyes, deep and endless, held a sorrow that had been etched into her soul over centuries.

“You’re not like the others,” she said, her voice soft, yet it carried the weight of her immortality.

Gojo smiled, his trademark arrogance showing. “I’ve been told I’m one of a kind.”

Yume regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and weariness. “Why do you seek me, Gojo Satoru? Do you not know that those who find me often regret it?”

“I’m not like most people,” Gojo replied, stepping closer. “I’m here because I want to know the truth. I want to know who you really are, why you’ve been hidden away for so long.”

Yume’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she seemed almost human. “The truth… it’s a heavy burden, one that has crushed many before you. Are you sure you wish to carry it?”

Gojo’s expression grew serious. “I’ve carried heavier burdens.”

Yume sighed, a sound filled with centuries of pain. “Very well. I will tell you my story.”

And so, under the twilight sky, Yume began to unravel the tale of her cursed existence. She spoke of her brother, Sukuna, and the horrors he had unleashed upon the world. She told Gojo of her own power, a force that could rival even Sukuna’s, but one that she refused to use for fear of becoming like him. She explained how she had been hunted by sorcerers, how they had tried to use her immortality to achieve their own twisted goals, and how she had fled from them, seeking only to live in peace.

Gojo listened intently, his usual bravado tempered by the gravity of her words. He realized that Yume was not just a figure from legend, but a living being who had suffered more than anyone could imagine.

“What do you want?” Gojo asked quietly when she finished.

“I want to be free,” Yume replied, her voice trembling slightly. “I want to break this curse and finally find peace.”

Gojo nodded slowly. “I can help you.”

Yume looked at him, hope flickering in her eyes for the first time in centuries. “How?”

“I’ll protect you,” Gojo said firmly. “We’ll find a way to break the curse together. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Yume was silent for a long moment, her gaze searching Gojo’s face for any hint of deception. But all she saw was sincerity, a determination that matched her own. For the first time in her endless life, she felt the possibility of hope.

“Thank you, Gojo Satoru,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

As the days turned into weeks, Gojo and Yume traveled together, seeking answers in ancient texts and forgotten places. Their bond grew stronger, a connection forged not just through their shared quest, but through an understanding of each other’s loneliness and pain. Gojo, who had always been alone at the top, found in Yume a kindred spirit, someone who understood the burden of power and the desire for freedom.

Yume, in turn, found solace in Gojo’s presence. His strength and confidence gave her hope, and his unwavering support made her believe that perhaps, just perhaps, she could escape her fate.

Their journey was fraught with danger. Curses and sorcerers alike sought to stop them, fearing the power they could unleash if they succeeded. But together, Gojo and Yume were unstoppable. They fought side by side, their powers complementing each other in a dance of light and darkness.

In the end, it was not some grand battle that brought them to their goal, but a quiet moment of realization. The curse that bound Yume was not one that could be broken by force, but by acceptance. She had to embrace her past, forgive herself for her perceived sins, and let go of the fear that had held her for so long.

And she did. With Gojo by her side, Yume confronted her past, faced her brother’s legacy, and chose to forgive herself. In that moment, the curse shattered, and for the first time in centuries, Yume felt the weight of her immortality lift from her shoulders.

She was free.

But freedom came at a cost. As the curse broke, Yume’s immortality faded, and she began to age, the centuries catching up with her in an instant. Gojo held her as she grew weaker, his heart breaking as he realized what was happening.

“Yume…” he whispered, tears filling his eyes.

“It’s alright,” she replied, her voice weak but filled with peace. “I’m finally free, Satoru. Thank you.”

And with that, Yume closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips, and took her last breath in Gojo’s arms.

Gojo stayed with her until the end, his heart heavy with grief but also with a sense of fulfillment. He had done what he set out to do. He had given her the peace she so desperately sought.

As he buried Yume in the forest where they first met, Gojo made a silent vow to remember her, to keep her story alive so that she would never be forgotten. He knew that she would always hold a special place in his heart, a reminder that even the strongest among them needed someone to lean on.

And so, Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, walked away from the forest, his heart a little heavier, but his resolve stronger than ever. He had lost a companion, a friend, and perhaps something more, but he had gained a deeper understanding of the world, of life, and of the importance of connection.

Yume’s story might have been over, but Gojo’s was far from it. And as long as he lived, her memory would continue to guide him, a beacon of hope and strength in a world filled with darkness.

~~~

Yuji Itadori lay on the ground, his body still, but inside, something had shifted. Sukuna, the King of Curses, had taken over again, but this time, something was different—something beyond anyone’s understanding.

Gojo Satoru stood a short distance away, his sharp gaze focused on Yuji’s form. He could feel the shift, the subtle yet undeniable presence of something more. It wasn’t just Sukuna; something else had returned, something he had thought he would never see again.

Yuji’s body began to stir, and as it did, a familiar energy started to emanate from it—a presence that Gojo knew all too well. His heart skipped a beat, a mixture of disbelief and hope surging through him. It couldn’t be… could it?

Slowly, Yuji’s body lifted off the ground, and when his eyes opened, they weren’t just Sukuna’s crimson eyes of malice. They were also Yume’s deep, sorrowful eyes. The combination was eerie, a blend of Sukuna’s twisted grin and Yume’s serene grace.

“Satoru…” The voice that came from Yuji’s lips was a blend of Sukuna’s cruel tone and Yume’s gentle warmth.

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat. It was her. Somehow, Yume had returned, but she wasn’t alone. She was sharing a vessel with her brother, trapped once again in a situation she had never asked for.

“Yume?” Gojo’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual confident demeanor cracking under the weight of the impossible situation.

“Yes,” Yume replied, her voice gentle and conflicted. “I’m back… but not as I was. Sukuna’s presence brought me back.”

A twisted chuckle escaped Sukuna’s lips—no, Yuji’s lips, but it was unmistakably Sukuna’s. “Surprised, Gojo? Seems my dear sister just couldn’t stay dead. What a family reunion.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he closed the distance between them. His hand gently cupped Yuji’s—no, Yume’s—cheek, and for a moment, the dark presence of Sukuna faded into the background, leaving only Yume’s soft expression.

“I thought I lost you,” Gojo said, his voice betraying the emotions he usually kept buried. “But you’re here… and I’m not letting you go again.”

Yume’s eyes glistened with tears, a stark contrast to the malevolent smirk that Sukuna’s influence forced onto her lips. “I don’t know how long I can stay like this,” she whispered. “He’s too strong… but for now, I’m here.”

Gojo’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He could feel Sukuna lurking, waiting for an opportunity to seize control again, but he wouldn’t allow it. Not this time. Not when Yume was back in his life, even if it was under these dire circumstances.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Gojo declared, his voice filled with a mix of determination and affection. “I won’t let him take you away again.”

Sukuna’s laughter echoed in their minds, but Yume’s soft smile, though forced, was enough to push the dark energy back for now. “I’ll stay with you, Satoru,” she said, her voice laced with both resolve and fear.

From that moment on, Gojo rarely left Yume’s—Yuji’s—side. The others at Jujutsu High noticed the change in him, the way his carefree attitude had shifted into something more serious, more protective. They saw how he stayed close to Yuji, how his gaze softened whenever Yume’s presence emerged, even if it was fleeting.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo’s protective nature only intensified. He shielded Yume from every danger, never allowing her to be alone, always keeping Sukuna’s influence at bay. He fought with a ferocity that none of his students had ever seen before, a determination born not just from his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer but from his deep, unspoken feelings for Yume.

Yume, for her part, was torn. She wanted to stay with Gojo, to find solace in his presence, but she knew that Sukuna’s power was too strong. She feared what he might do, how he might use her against those she cared about. Yet, whenever Gojo was near, she felt safe, even if it was just for a moment.

“Satoru,” she said one evening as they sat together in a quiet corner of the school. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow over them. “You can’t keep doing this… you can’t protect me forever.”

“I can and I will,” Gojo replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll find a way to free you from him. I won’t let him win.”

Yume looked at him, her heart aching. She wanted to believe him, to trust that he could somehow save her, but the reality of their situation weighed heavily on her. “What if you can’t? What if he takes over completely?”

Gojo’s eyes, usually so full of mischief, were serious, determined. “Then I’ll fight him. I’ll fight him until there’s nothing left of him. I’ve faced worse odds before, Yume. I won’t lose you again.”

Yume’s tears fell freely now, her emotions too overwhelming to contain. She leaned into Gojo, letting herself be held by him, even as she felt Sukuna’s presence lurking in the background, waiting for his chance to strike.

But for now, in this moment, she was with Gojo. And for both of them, that was enough.

As the night wore on, Gojo held Yume close, his arms wrapped around her protectively. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, that Sukuna wouldn’t give up easily, but he didn’t care. As long as Yume was by his side, he would fight with everything he had.

He would protect her, no matter the cost.

And somewhere deep within Yuji’s mind, Sukuna watched with a twisted grin, biding his time, knowing that the game was far from over. But even he couldn’t deny the strength of the bond between Gojo and Yume. It was a bond that would make the coming battle all the more interesting.

For now, though, Sukuna would wait, watching and learning. Because even the King of Curses knew that in this game of power and love, there were still pieces left to move, and the outcome was anything but certain.

~~~

The days at Jujutsu High grew increasingly tense as Gojo Satoru continued his relentless quest to separate Yume from Sukuna’s grasp. Yume's presence within Yuji's body was fleeting and fragile, a flickering light overshadowed by Sukuna's dark energy. But Gojo refused to give up, his mind working tirelessly to find a way to bring Yume back fully—to give her the life she deserved, separate from her brother’s malevolent influence.

Gojo’s research led him deep into ancient texts, forgotten rituals, and the rarest of cursed techniques. He spent sleepless nights poring over scrolls and consulting with the few sorcerers who possessed the knowledge he sought. The idea of bringing Yume back to her original body, buried in the forest where they had first met, was a thought that never left his mind. But such a feat required immense power and precision, and even Gojo knew the risks were high.

Yet, the thought of Yume’s smile, of her being free from Sukuna’s shadow, was enough to push him forward. He would do anything to see her truly alive again.

One evening, after another exhausting day of battles and teaching, Gojo felt a surge of determination. He had gathered everything he needed—the right incantations, the precise location of her body, and the immense amount of cursed energy required to make it all happen. There was no more time to waste. Yume had been trapped for too long.

“Yume,” Gojo whispered as he approached Yuji, who was resting in his dorm room. The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting a warm light on Yuji’s face. Gojo could sense her presence, faint but there, overshadowing Sukuna’s ever-watchful eye.

Yuji’s eyes opened, and for a moment, Yume’s gentle gaze met Gojo’s. “Satoru…” Her voice was soft, filled with both hope and fear. “What are you planning?”

Gojo’s expression was serious, but his eyes held a tenderness that was reserved only for her. “I’ve found a way to bring you back, Yume. To give you your own body again.”

Yume’s breath caught in her throat. The thought of being free, of no longer being bound to Sukuna, was something she had longed for but never truly believed possible. “Is it… really possible?”

Gojo nodded, his confidence unwavering. “It won’t be easy, and it’s risky, but I believe it can work. I just need you to trust me.”

Yume hesitated, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She had always trusted Gojo, but the fear of the unknown, of what could go wrong, gnawed at her. Yet, as she looked into his eyes, filled with determination and love, she knew she had to take this chance. “I trust you, Satoru,” she whispered.

Gojo smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Good. Then let’s do this.”

That night, under the cover of darkness, Gojo led Yuji—led Yume—to the forest where her body was buried. The forest was quiet, the air thick with anticipation. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal light over the ancient trees, and the atmosphere crackled with energy.

Gojo had prepared the area meticulously. He had drawn intricate symbols around the grave, using a mixture of his own cursed energy and the knowledge he had gleaned from the ancient texts. Everything was in place. Now, it was up to him to make it work.

As they stood by the grave, Gojo turned to Yume. “This might feel strange, but I need you to focus. I need you to hold on to who you are, to your essence. Don’t let Sukuna interfere.”

Yume nodded, her resolve strengthening. She could feel Sukuna stirring, his dark presence attempting to push her back, but she fought against it, holding on to Gojo’s words.

Gojo began the ritual, his voice steady as he chanted the ancient incantations. The ground beneath them started to tremble, and the symbols around the grave glowed with a soft, otherworldly light. Gojo’s cursed energy surged, wrapping around Yuji’s body, pulling at the essence of Yume within.

For a moment, it seemed as though nothing was happening. But then, Yume’s presence began to shift. Slowly, her spirit separated from Yuji’s body, drawn towards the grave where her original body lay. Sukuna’s influence roared, trying to pull her back, but Gojo’s energy pushed him away, creating a barrier that he couldn’t penetrate.

As Yume’s spirit moved towards her body, the ground split open, revealing her resting place. The sight of her body, preserved by some ancient magic, was both beautiful and heartbreaking. She looked just as she had before—young, serene, untouched by time.

Gojo’s energy enveloped her, guiding her spirit back to her body. There was a moment of tension, a final struggle as Sukuna tried to regain control, but Gojo’s power was too strong. With a final surge of energy, Yume’s spirit fully entered her body, and the connection was made.

The light around the grave intensified, and then, in an instant, it faded, leaving only the soft glow of the moonlight. For a moment, everything was still. Gojo held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

Then, slowly, Yume’s body began to move. Her chest rose and fell with the first breath she had taken in centuries. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing the same deep, soulful gaze that Gojo had missed so much.

“Satoru…” Yume’s voice was soft, but it was her own, free from Sukuna’s influence.

Gojo dropped to his knees beside her, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and disbelief. He gently took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, the realness of her presence. “Yume… you’re really here.”

Yume sat up slowly, her movements tentative as she adjusted to being in her own body again. She looked at Gojo, a smile spreading across her face, and without thinking, she threw her arms around him, holding him close. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

Gojo wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if afraid she might disappear again. “I told you I wouldn’t let him win,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion he rarely showed.

For a long time, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the moment that neither of them had believed possible. Yume was back, truly back, and Gojo couldn’t have been happier. She was young again, just as she had been before she died, and the sight of her brought a warmth to Gojo’s heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

But even as they embraced, Gojo’s protective instincts remained on high alert. He had Yume back, but he knew that the world they lived in was dangerous, filled with enemies who would seek to harm her, to use her once more. He wouldn’t let that happen. From this moment on, Gojo vowed to keep Yume safe, no matter what.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Gojo said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Yume smiled, her heart swelling with affection for the man who had done the impossible to bring her back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And so, with Yume now by his side in her own body, Gojo Satoru prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they would navigate the dangers of their world, their bond stronger than ever. And no matter what came their way, Gojo knew one thing for certain—he would protect Yume with everything he had, for as long as they both lived.

If you liked this story Buy me a Coffee ;)

[etherealyoni]

B*TCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY Aries, Leo, Sagittarius

Please keep your communication open, things are heading your way. Your level of focus right now is unmatched. I am not surprised if you're getting a raise or recognition soon. You've been annoyed by a lot of things that have been taking place in your career but I see you having more relief in the things that you have planned. A lot of these things will be moving smoothly, almost as if nothing can get in the way. Whatever has been stressing you out financially and career-wise will have a solution, just be patient. Just because you may not have control over the situation doesn't mean you aren't in control of your life. Take your power back from anything that makes you feel unworthy!

B*TCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn

Keep putting that effort in, I see you. Let your sights be set on your vision and let everything else fall in the hands of The Most High. You want to be seen and heard just as much as the next person and nothing is wrong with that. Don't beat yourself up because things aren't moving fast enough. Acknowledge that where you are right now is just apart of your testimony. Gratitude is the key to unlocking many doors so ensure you tap into that energy more frequently. This dry spell has nothing to do with you, it's all about the energy around you. Cleanse and remove anything that you feel is hindering your progress. Also hearing that your finances are not a reflection of you. Don't let classism make you forget who you are!

B*TCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

Welcome in those new financial beginnings. For some time you may have felt like your cup would never be filled. Time and time again it feels like your back is against the wall but not this time. You are honoring the endless opportunities that come with this reality. You are opening your mind up to so much more in this will be rewarding. Now, your cup will overflow. And now, you'll see how real it's about to get for you. No more overstimulation and exhaustion. You're going to feel more alive than ever before because you're going to do more of what fulfills you, bringing in a lot more than you could've ever imagined.

B*TCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

You may know what you want to do, but you're currently trying to calculate your next moves. You may sometimes feel you're not doing the right thing. Just because you aren't moving physically doesn't mean things aren't happening for you spiritually. Keep an open heart and I hear for a lot of you, you need to be voicing these needs and wants. Your throat chakra is significant. You may have a career in communications, journalism, or even teaching in some way. You may have felt silenced in the past due to unfair circumstances but the sky is the limit. You do not have to sell yourself short so keep that in mind. You have every right to turn anything down that doesn't feel right to you. Another major message is to trust those instincts if it doesn't feel right, you know what to do.

[tgrailwar-zero]

Avenger/TGHW Grail Terminal Alpha/A Narrating Voice, do you know if there are any sorts of programs we can run in this space, or should we try talking to the Admin?

'A NARRATING VOICE': "Considering I'm doing this behind the Admin's back? Uh, maybe don't call her. I'm backdoor-ing this shit."

"Right, right. Good to see you too and all that. I mean, I'm being flippant, but underneath my cold, dead, sarcasm is a bit of joy. Aaanyways. Before you go stir crazy, let's get practical. Just... gimmie a second." He rummaged around a bit... or at least it sounded like he was- it was endless darkness here- before raising a hand. "Found it! Item get!"

"So, some of you will remember a while ago when I stole a kiss from you and then revealed that the 'affection points' were me stealing your magical energy so that I could cheat the system and jury rig a contract? Well… that special moment we shared once the Preliminary War Ended… the one that netted you all that 'Super Affection Point'…"

"…Was one last hunk of magical energy I swiped from you guys, just in case! I know, I know. Ain't I a rascal? Anyways, hyah!"

...The Super Affection Point was thrown! The Super Affection Point has been converted into three Command Spells, and has torn an opening in the Grail War…! "This'll be a big one. Literally, this Spirit Origin will be dense as hell. After all, you'll need firepower. If I bring you back, you really will be Interlopers to the system- and by default, everyone's enemy. Which means you'll need tough Servants to survive the onslaught, so pick. Also, maybe it'll serve as idiot-proofing. Maybe? Doubt it, but no harm in trying. I'll also just… iterate, that these options are… how would you say it… randomized? As if they were put through a (theoretical) randomizer and then given as options. Anyways, go! Pick! Now!"

'A NARRATING VOICE': "Sheesh, look at these guys. I'd hate to be on their bad side. Have you ever noticed that even the most 'Heroic' of Heroic Spirits are like, super violent?"

ARCHER

The demigod son of Poseidon, and one of Greece's greatest hunters- the man who shot down the goddess of the moon. With top-ranked parameters in almost every statistic, as a warrior his talent is unmatched. However, he tends to falter a bit when it comes to vices, easily distracted by beautiful women and constantly haunted by a lunar presence (girlfriend).

Strength: A

Endurance: A

Agility: B+

Mana: C

Luck: A

NP: EX

Starting Health: 11

Starting Mana: 7

FOREIGNER

A mysterious presence from beyond the stars-- or perhaps a refreshing wind from the cosmos. Her nature is considered 'theoretical', even as a Servant in the Solar Cell, and may be linked to an item retrieved beforehand. Despite her incredible might, she is ultimately inexperienced, both as a warrior and a Servant.

Strength: C

Endurance: C

Agility: B

Mana: EX

Luck: A

NP: B++

Starting Health: 7

Starting Mana: 13

CASTER

The Mage of Flowers. Possessing incredible magical talent, and wisdom that would be renowned for ages, this Caster is one of the defining members of his class. However, his personality does make him a bit difficult to get along with at times, as he tends to be more of a 'big picture' thinker with his own vices.

Strength: B

Endurance: E

Agility: D

Mana: A

Luck: C

NP: C

Starting Health: 5

Starting Mana: 11

-

'A NARRATING VOICE': "You know, if it was up to me, I'd say- 'if everyone'll treat you like your evil, then go all in'. Nothing wrong with getting some help from the dark side! Anyways, I now present 'Column B'!"

BEAST II

A Primordial Deity who's greatest sin is the inability to let go. Powerful, commanding, and… smothering, she is a proud Servant that considers everyone her 'children'. If she were to be summoned, the constraints of the Solar Cell would put her in a larval form. However, with enough time and mana (or the cry of the Command Spell), she could briefly attain her full might as Primordial Mother.

Strength: C

Endurance: C

Agility: D

Mana: A

Luck: EX

NP: EX

Starting Health: 7

Starting Mana: 11 (Statistics are variable based on form.)

BEAST VI/S

A bright, burning Emperor of Roses. A violent ruler that approves of avarice and depravity, and watches the incineration of the world with a confident smile on her face. Despite her more affable nature, this Beast is almost certainly 'Evil', and should therefore be treated with care. However, in another time and another place, she has stood with- and against- a fox demon.

Strength: B

Endurance: B+

Agility: A

Mana: A

Luck: D

NP: B

Starting Health: 10

Starting Mana: 11 (Statistics are variable based on form.)

BEAST OF THE PLANET

The Mage of Flowers. Possessing incredible magical talent, and wisdom that would be renowned for ages, this prospective Beast is one of the defining members of her class-- uh, déjà vu, much? However, she is also prone to acting in accordance to whatever amuses her more, meaning that despite ultimately being an invaluable ally, there will certainly be challenges.

Strength: E

Endurance: E

Agility: C+

Mana: A++

Luck: A

NP: A

Starting Health: 3

Starting Mana: 12

[y3kdollz]

Where can I find a dark MC dark Sebastian corruption arc falling into darkness and madness together type Bonnie and Clyde fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Art by Nipuni source: twitter @Doloplokos_)

Spoiler alert ⚠️

Please ignore the following if you haven’t finish the game.

I’m totally having this endless brain rot ever since beating the game because I chose the “evil ending” for my MC and didn’t get the satisfaction to see her actually turning dark.

There are so much potential left unexplored. Like digging deeper into all the situations the MC been thru with Sebastian it’s so clear that they care for each other deeply but also there are always more complicated motives and power dynamics going on. Through out all the choices we got with Sebastian the MC is actually the manipulator ( like if you want to get Sebastian to teach you dark arts you choose to say things that he would want to hear) and inevitably becomes the enabler In Sebastian’s path to darkness.

This is also the reason why i didn’t choose to turn Sebastian in because it just wouldn’t make sense and would make the MC a double standard hypocrite since the MC had used the unforgivable curses in numerous occasions and I find it hard to justify. Or the MC is just purely evil by putting Sebastian in Azkaban after he provides no value to the MC anymore since all the unforgivable curses are taught. Anyway I might have just been over analyzing and making it too complex for a game. But just saying the MC definitely would not have the moral high ground here and it would be interesting to see if the MC has the ambition and plan to rise to power in the Wizarding world (since ancient magic wielding abilities alone is so OP already)and what part would Sebastian play in the future.

Btw I don’t even think that the MC would necessarily be a Slytherin to turn dark per say. I think in this specific plot line of Hogwarts Legacy it would be interesting to have a ravenclaw turning “evil” if you consider that Isidora is a ravenclaw and how the MC could share a lot of similarities with her: unmatched talent and magical power, intelligence and empathetic personality etc. and also it would be so cool to see a mastermind who is not becoming “dark” to just gain power but self-perceived as doing good for others. Totally make sense honestly and every house actually has the potential to turn dark.

[sukunaslilgurl]

Now we are free

Chapter twelve: Return to Glory

Three weeks had passed since Sukuna’s near-death battle in the arena. His body, a canvas of scars, was now healed and as imposing as ever. The deep gash that had nearly ended him was now a faint memory, though he could still feel the stiffness in his torso when he moved too quickly. But Sukuna was not one to dwell on weakness. He was back, and his return to the training grounds was nothing short of triumphant.

The training grounds of Gojo’s palace were alive with the clang of weapons and the shouts of gladiators sparring under the watchful eyes of their trainers. Sukuna stood at the center, bare-chested, his tattoos gleaming in the sunlight. He gripped his weapon—a heavy, bladed staff—twirling it with ease as his opponent lunged toward him.

With a single, precise movement, Sukuna sidestepped the attack, sweeping his opponent’s legs out from under him. The man hit the ground hard, groaning in defeat.

“Still too slow,” Sukuna muttered, extending a hand to help the man up.

Around him, the other gladiators watched with a mix of admiration and wariness. Sukuna was back, and his dominance was clear. His movements were fluid, his strength unmatched. Even Toji, his closest friend and rival, smirked from where he stood watching.

Later that day, the arena buzzed with excitement as Sukuna returned to fight his first matches since his recovery. Though his wounds were still stiff, he moved like a predator, his opponents falling one by one under his relentless strikes. The crowd roared, their cheers echoing across the arena.

Gojo, seated in his elevated box, smirked as he watched Sukuna claim victory after victory. Coins flowed freely into the palace coffers, and the celebrations grew more extravagant with each passing night.

By the end of the third week, Sukuna was fully restored to his former glory. His name was once again on the lips of every noble and commoner alike, a symbol of strength and power. Gojo’s gladiators, including Toji, were on an undefeated streak, and the palace celebrated their victories with lavish feasts and endless wine.

A Night of Revelry

One particular evening, the gladiators gathered in one of the palace’s courtyards, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine. Laughter echoed under the starlit sky as Sukuna and Toji sat together near a blazing fire.

Toji leaned back in his chair, a goblet of wine in one hand and his other arm wrapped protectively around his wife, who sat on his lap. She was a petite woman with short, raven-black hair that framed her delicate features. Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement as she listened to the two men banter.

“You’ve gotten soft, Sukuna,” Toji teased, his grin wide as he took another swig of wine. “That last fight of yours didn’t look as clean as it used to. Must be the old age catching up.”

Sukuna snorted, rolling his eyes. “Says the man who nearly tripped over his own feet last week.”

Toji’s wife laughed, her soft voice cutting through the rowdy atmosphere. “He’s not wrong, Toji. You’ve been slipping.”

Toji groaned, burying his face in her shoulder dramatically. “Et tu, my love? Betrayed by my own wife!”

Sukuna chuckled, a rare sound that rumbled deep in his chest. He raised his goblet in a mock toast. “To Toji, the clumsiest gladiator in Rome.”

The three of them laughed, the tension of the past weeks melting away in the warmth of the firelight and the haze of wine.

As the night wore on, the conversation turned more reflective.

“Toji,” Sukuna said, swirling the wine in his goblet, “what keeps you fighting? You’ve got her”—he gestured to Toji’s wife—“a reason to leave this life behind. Why stay?”

Toji’s expression softened as he looked at his wife, who smiled up at him. “Because every fight, every victory, brings us closer to freedom,” he said simply. “And until that day comes, I’ll keep fighting.”

Sukuna didn’t respond immediately, his crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable. The wine in his goblet sloshed gently as he tilted it, staring into the dark liquid.

Freedom. The word lingered in his mind, foreign and distant.

“Maybe one day,” Toji added, his tone lighter now, “you’ll find a reason to fight for something other than blood and glory.”

Sukuna smirked, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe.”

The conversation shifted again, returning to the playful banter and laughter that filled the night. But as Sukuna leaned back in his chair, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features, the word “freedom” remained etched in his thoughts.

Later he wanted to see Irene again he commanded the guards to take her to his chambers

Sukuna leaned against the wall, his gaze sharp and piercing as Irene was led into his chamber. She looked slightly startled but composed herself quickly. Her simple attire and the faint golden glow of her skin reminded him of the quiet moments she’d spent by his side during his recovery.

The guard stepped back, bowing slightly. “We brought her, as you requested, Sukuna.”

Sukuna gave a short nod. “Leave us.”

The guard hesitated, glancing between them, but obeyed. The heavy door closed, leaving Sukuna and Irene alone in the flickering torchlight.

Irene stood quietly, her hands clasped in front of her. Her mismatched eyes, one mint-green and the other ice-blue, lifted to meet his. “You wanted to see me?” she asked softly.

Sukuna straightened, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the room. For a moment, he didn’t speak, studying her as if trying to find the right words. Finally, he broke the silence.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, his tone unusually even. “For treating me. For taking care of me.”

Irene blinked in surprise. Of all the things she’d expected, gratitude from the Demon King of the arena wasn’t one of them.

“I… I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she replied, her voice soft but sincere.

“I haven’t seen you since,” Sukuna added, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “I thought you’d still be by the medic’s side, but you’ve been… gone.”

Irene hesitated, unsure how to respond. “I’ve been busy with other duties. The mistress keeps me occupied.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened at the mention of Utahime, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he shifted closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You worked harder than anyone had to. I’m not a man who offers thanks lightly.”

Irene’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her heart raced under the weight of his gaze. “You don’t need to thank me. It was my duty.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Sukuna muttered, his expression darkening briefly. Then, as if dismissing the thought, he added, “Still. It’s not something I’ll forget.”

The sincerity in his voice caught Irene off guard, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to still.

“Well,” she said, breaking the silence, “if you ever need anything else, I’m… here.”

Sukuna’s eyes glinted with a faint trace of something unreadable—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper. “You’ve done more than enough already.”

Irene gave a small bow, prepared to leave, but Sukuna’s voice stopped her.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

She looked back at him, her mismatched eyes meeting his once more. “And I meant what I said. I’m glad you’re better.”

Irene stood still, her mismatched eyes flickering with an unspoken tension as Sukuna took a step closer. His towering frame cast a long shadow over her, but the soft light of the moon streaming through the chamber’s narrow window illuminated her face. Her curls fell in gentle waves around her shoulders, framing her delicate yet determined features.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrowed as he studied her closely, as if seeing her for the first time in a way he hadn’t before. The faint shimmer of her golden-tanned skin caught the light, and her petite stature—so small compared to his massive build—only seemed to enhance the strength in her gaze.

“You’re… different,” he muttered, his voice low and almost to himself.

Irene blinked up at him, her hands still clasped nervously in front of her. “Different?” she asked cautiously, unsure if it was meant as a compliment or something else.

Sukuna’s lips curved into a faint smirk, though his tone was uncharacteristically soft. “You’re not like the others. Stronger… even when you shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly but steady enough to hold her ground.

He took another step closer, the space between them now almost nonexistent. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders and muscular build dwarfing her frame, but there was no malice in his presence—only curiosity and a strange sort of reverence.

“You stood over me when I was weak,” Sukuna said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I remember the way you worked, like you didn’t care who I was or what I’ve done. That… is different.”

Irene swallowed hard, the weight of his words surprising her. She tilted her head slightly, her curls shifting as she looked up into his fierce crimson eyes. The intensity of his stare was overwhelming, but she didn’t back away.

“I was doing what needed to be done,” she said softly. “You were hurt. It didn’t matter who you were.”

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on her, his expression unreadable. The moonlight caught the subtle shimmer of her curls, and for a moment, he found himself unable to look away. Her mismatched eyes—one mint-green, the other ice-blue—seemed to hold an unspoken challenge, a quiet strength that intrigued him.

“You’re small,” he muttered, almost absentmindedly, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of her face. “But you’re not fragile. I can see it.”

Irene let out a soft laugh, surprising herself with her boldness. “I’ve had no choice but to be strong,” she replied. “This world doesn’t leave much room for weakness.”

Sukuna’s smirk deepened, but there was something softer in his expression now. “No, it doesn’t,” he agreed.

For a moment, the silence stretched between them, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. Sukuna’s hand twitched slightly, as if he was debating whether to reach out, but he held himself back. Instead, he took a step back, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment longer.

“You’re different,” he said again, this time with more certainty.

Irene looked up at him, her eyes searching his for a hint of what he meant. “And you’re… complicated men,” she replied, her voice steady.

Sukuna chuckled softly, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed almost foreign coming from him. “Fair enough,” he said, turning slightly toward the door.

But before he could fully step away, Irene spoke again. “You’re not as heartless as they say.”

He paused, glancing back at her over his shoulder. A flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or even curiosity—crossed his face. “Don’t mistake survival for kindness,” he replied, his tone sharp but not cruel.

Irene didn’t look away, her gaze steady as she replied, “Maybe. But I think there’s more to you than just survival. Behind all this blood shedding there may be a heart.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he gave her one last lingering look before turning and walking away, his heavy footsteps echoing in the chamber.

As he disappeared into the shadows, Irene let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. For the first time, she felt that there was more to the infamous Demon King than the blood and carnage that surrounded his name—and she wasn’t sure whether that thought terrified or intrigued her more.

[leviosuga]

characters tjat everytime i look at i want to burst into tears that i can’t be them, will never be as cool as them, can only ever hope of achieving the entire general vibe they got going on

1: shadow the hedgehog (red and black color scheme … he’s all pointy and eyeshadowy.. he has chunky gay shoes.. motorcycle … he’s not a boy nor a girl but a secret third thing (made of alien goo and faulty wires). his inhibitors are basically bracelets so hes blinged out. he has a gun. lives in a world where Chao exist. many such cases)

2: lio fotia. I know hes british and TECHNICALLY not blond but the finer details here are irrelevant he has pink fire powers and weapons/clothes/vehicles made of Pink Fire in question. his entire outfit is belt buckles and latex hes like a twink at a gay club. his theme song is Kakusei. he turns into a dragon??? he spends the entire movie being courted by a beautiful buff dumbass that became anti-state for him. just endless victory

3: hatsune miku. not much to say here shes just such a diva shes what the ideal Gorgeous Girl ahould be. you could spend years designing a character and have it not be even remotely as good as her she’s my princess diana

4: Howl Pendragon. deeply troubled and deeply stupid and deeply charming he/him lesbian with blond hair a quilt cape and a room full of whimsical trinkets in which he can wallow and lament in. dating a lovely darling woman and travelling the world with her. swallowed a star. won the Dumb Bitch Lesbian Lottery in every sense of the term

5: ezra from electric bones. manipulating a dumb cunt into doing gay sex deeds for him… made of gooey green wires. back tattoo. Green Gradient Hands. sinister energy unmatched

6: ramuda amemura. Pink. Dying of a mysterious clone illness and his only medicine is cute little lollipops… at least 14 different people are kind of in love with him and they all hate themselves for being in love with him he’s the Primadonna of hypmic

7: rose tyler. for all the obvious reasons