#still more difficult than they need to be but POSSIBLE.

[artsninspo]

Richmond Inc.

♠ summary: Terry Richmond is your boss, and the illustrious CEO of the worlds best and most elusive private security firm. Only he didn't get to where he is now by being nice. As attractive as your boss is, you find it difficult to swoon for the green eyes giant when he is perpetually unpleasant and demanding.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Black Reader

♠ word-count: ~1.1 K

You look away from the light eyed adonis not wanting to get glamoured by his green eyes. Your coworkers swoon and you wonder how it’s possible for them to forget his chronic dissatisfaction and scathing temper. Running a tight ship is the understatement of the century. The former military man sure acts like he’s still on assignment. If it was up to you the last place you’d be is under his smug gaze as he details what's gone both wrong and right about the last assignment. He has no business being as mean as he is. His size alone is grounds for him to be more cautious and gentle with his employees. with. Anyone who’s as tall as he is with a body built for combat should always be careful to be considerate.

“Y/N” his baritone voice calls drawing you from your thoughts.. Looking up your eyes meet his for the briefest of moments. You consider quitting in an instant bracing for him to rip you apart for some infraction.

“Sir?” You respond.

“Great work, the logistics were perfect” he says and it’s high praise coming from someone who rarely acknowledges great work with praise”. Eyes dart away from him to you and you force a casual smile.

“Just doing my job” you nod hoping he moves on. The debrief continues and you recognize the clamouring to impress him and for his attention. It’s not in you to placate anyone least of all a man that’s so stern all the time. Looking at the clock your body settles knowing relief is soon. For all the boss’ faults punctuality and timeliness isn’t one of them. His phone alarm sounds signalling the end of the meeting and you stand first. Your male colleagues stand too but a couple of your female colleagues take their time. 

“Y/N I’d like to see you in my office in five” he says.

“Ok” you respond heading to the bathroom first. When you’ve relieved yourself of your nerves you look in the mirror and practice a detached but engaged expression. When you fail to convince yourself of the contrived demeanour you sigh silencing your phone and making a mental note to find a new job. Grabbing your tablet for work you enter his state of the art office with seconds to spare. His eyes shift rom the clock to you and he holds out his arm signalling for you to take a seat. You oblige.

“How are you?” He asks.

“Fine and you?” You ask not missing a beat.

He nods, smiling slightly. “Good” Impatience flares in your expression and his smile deepens as he looks down at the paper on his desk. It’s an odd sight to see him smile for anyone other than clients.

“Your reviews are stellar. Both your team and directors have glowing reviews for you. Your end of year compensation will reflect that” he says and your excitement flares.

“I do my best” you respond in acknowledgement.

“There will be a vacancy in the director slot and everyone tells me you’re good with people. Are you interested in being on the ground?” He asks.

“No” you don’t even have to think about it. It’s most of your colleagues' dreams. To rub elbows with the who’s who of the world in need of private security. A few of your former female director colleagues are now kept women to filthy rich businessmen.

“No?” He seems surprised.

“No thank you.” You correct, not wanting to draw his ire. His thick brows furrow as he looks at you confused. You only manage it seconds before looking away. He sits back in his chair and you look anywhere but his eyes.

“Would you prefer another position?” He asks but all directors work closely with him. Even from your office you’ve heard him ripping into them on several occasions for mistakes. Director means his personal pawn. It means two am pick up times and calls at all hours of the day and night. Family strain and inconsistency for everyone who isn’t the job. It means he has full control over you, your decisions, company, medical history, romantic partners and every other significantly private thing.

“I’m quite content where I am now” you respond honestly.

“Is it the compensation? If it’s unsatisfactory there is room for negotiations” He explains but  you don’t think there could ever be a number to justify what that position would do to your nerves.

“I can do my job well enough now. My confidence in my abilities isn’t the same for a director position. I can’t commit to more hours or the sporadic demands. Nor am I interested in the travel aspect. My hours now with occasional overtime is what I can manage. I don’t ever want to underdeliver and I know I would as a director” you lie and his skepticism is proof he’s not buying it, at least not fully. 

“I can think of few things more compelling for a young woman than international travel with every luxury” he says.

“You’re the furthest thing from a young woman” you mutter, speaking out of turn. Thankfully his eyes light and he seems more amused than annoyed. He reaches for his glasses taking a file from the folder organizer on his desk. He swipes his clearance fob over it and light flashes into his eye before the file opens. The way his muscles contract for the simplest gestures is sinful. He studies the papers flipping through them and then looks back up at you.

“Is it the dog?” He asks, revealing he’s looking into your file.

“Pardon me?”

“Your dog, is that why you don’t want to travel or take on the promotion?” He asks. You’re the reason. You think to yourself, but it's hardly an appropriate response. “Or has something changed in your personal life?” He pries acting like it’s within his authority. 

“I have nothing I want to flag or discuss” you respond succinctly. Mr. Richmond nods and removes his glasses before putting the paper back into its folder, locking it and setting it back into the organizer. His notifications sound and he checks his luxury watch. He’s so fucking fine. You swallow knowing he’s probably the worst with women.

“You’re free to go” he says dismissively, back to his asshole ways. 

“Good day” you respond but it seems to make him flinch slightly.

“Good day” he responds and you leave.

Author's note: i'm trying to be better about hoarding drafts. So here's a little Aaron fic for the girls 🖤 how do we feel about mean terry? don't forget to ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog ☑vote on the polls

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993

[aventurineswife]

Since a certain someone ahem @sundaysconsort ahem, made me sad... You guys shall suffer with me 🫶💙

The dim glow of the Astral Express cast soft shadows on the walls, the gentle hum of its engines the only sound breaking the silence. You sat near the windows, gazing out at the stars that blurred into streaks of light, each one carrying the memory of a distant world.

Sunday stood at the other end of the room, his ethereal figure framed by the soft glow of the halo behind him. His wings flickered slightly, betraying the turbulence within, but his face remained composed, as it always did—distant, yet not unkind.

He hadn’t said much since you’d boarded the train together. His usual perceptiveness was there, but today, it felt like he was watching you more than speaking to you. It made the air feel thick with unspoken words, and you found yourself longing for him to speak, to break the silence.

“Are you… alright?” you asked quietly, breaking the stillness.

Sunday turned, his eyes soft, distant. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else—something more guarded, as he often did. But instead, he took a few slow steps toward you, his back wings folding gently at his back.

He gazed at you for a long time, and for the first time, you saw the subtle weariness behind his eyes. It wasn’t the guilt or the burden of his past, but something more intimate—like a longing, a quiet, almost imperceptible need.

“What happens when we let our hearts heal,” he murmured, almost to himself, as his voice barely rose above the hum of the train. “When we let our souls breathe?”

You tilted your head, unsure whether he was speaking to you or to some deeper part of himself. There was a sadness there, like he had been contemplating it for far too long, but never quite finding the answer.

His gaze met yours, and it was like he was searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or even a hint of the answer. There was a moment of stillness, and then he stepped closer, his presence drawing you in, though there was no physical force behind it. Just the pull of his quiet, vulnerable self.

“It’s… difficult,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “To imagine a world where wounds don’t define us. To believe that we might find peace, when everything around us tells us that it’s out of reach.”

Your heart tightened, unsure of how to respond. You could see the conflict in him—the same conflict that had always been there, hidden beneath his calm demeanor.

His wings shifted, an almost imperceptible flutter, as he looked away for a moment, clearly struggling with his own thoughts. "I have spent my life trying to save others from pain, from suffering. Yet, in doing so, I’ve never once allowed myself the same kindness.”

You could feel the weight of those words, heavy with the years of internal battles he had fought, the ideals he had tried to uphold, only to face the harsh reality that even the most noble of dreams could come at a cost.

His voice, soft and distant again, slipped out. “What happens when we stop hiding from ourselves? When we let go of all the ways we’ve been conditioned to believe we must be?”

A silence hung in the air, filled with the tension between his idealism and the reality of his struggles. His eyes met yours once more, this time not with the distance you were used to, but with an openness that felt as if he were letting you see the parts of him he so carefully shielded from the world.

“Would you stay with me?” he asked, the question raw, vulnerable in a way that felt foreign to him.

It was a question laden with all the fears he never let himself speak of—the fear of loss, of failure, of not being enough. But there was also something else, something quieter. Hope.

In that moment, as you looked at him, you realized that perhaps he had never truly asked for help, never truly let anyone in. But now, in the delicate balance between his ideals and his heart, he was opening up to the possibility of healing. A possibility that, for the first time, seemed just within reach.

“What happens when we let our hearts heal, when we let our souls breathe?” he repeated, his voice fragile, as though the answer rested between the two of you.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question settle into your chest. With a quiet resolve, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “I think we learn how to live again,” you whispered.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw the faintest flicker of hope in his eyes.

[shalomniscient]

Building on you dad energy Feixiao hc. Absolutely she was the cool dad once her kids reach above kinder age. However I absolutely belive she was the "Omg Im now responsible for a tiny one wtf do I do?!?!" parent when the child was a baby/infant. I think early parent feixiao channels a lot of 'A little confused but she's got the spirit energy'. Like I like the idea that she's a very talented person confronted with a situation completely out of her usual skillset. Bonus points if her friends or SO teases her about having to "figure it out, like the rest of us mortals" I imagine Yukong got a lot of 3am calls in which Feixiao was overwhelmed or just needed desperate advice because the little one hasn't stopped crying for 2 hours now and doesnt know what to do.

I also hc that Feixiao's first child is a surprise child rather than a planned one, not unwanted, just unexpected. Basically I like the idea of Feixiao channeling a lot of first time parent trying her best energy at the beginning. Also definetly cried after holding the baby for the first time.

being responsible for a tiny creature that can have their life subscription revoked in 10 billion ways is a valid reason for anyone, even generals, to get stressed tbh LMAO in the newborn days feixiao is definitely more skittish than she's ever been in her life. she gets nervous holding her baby, both because she's scared she'd drop them or hold them too hard. it takes quite a bit of reassurance from r that "no, you're doing fine" before she gets more comfortable and confident. during this entire time her senses are also on maximum alert; if there's even a hint of noise from the bassinet at night she's awake immediately. she doesn't have those damn radar dishes on her head for nothing. she's just a chronic worrier, fussing more than r about the baby especially if they have a minor cough or maybe sneeze too often. both yukong AND jiaoqiu have to field a lot of midnight calls from her; i think it gets to the point where jiaoqiu just moves into the estate for a bit sdhjfks i think the worrying can be attributed in some part to her heritage and the pitfalls that come with it, notably moon rage. despite all the stuff with hoolay, it's still not clear if any of it could pass to her baby, which is why she's always on the lookout for any signs.

and ofc that worry extends back to when she first found out r was pregnant. i think feixiao would struggle a lot with it; it'd be difficult for her to reconcile and justify bringing a child into this world who could possibly inherit her affliction. it's certainly not something she would want to pass on. this sort of ethical dilemma is honestly why i see feixiao adopting a kid rather than having her own, but if she finds a resolution for it like maybe the baby being clean of any indicators of moon rage (assuming they were sired post-hoolay) then i see her enthusiastically getting it on with r hskdfhk she wants a whole litter and if the next ends up looking like r? she'll be gunning for more alright dhkfsjdhfk also yeah she 100% cries when her baby is born; doesn't matter if it's the first, the second, or whatever. she's cradling them gently and whispering softly as her cheeks get progressively wetter. she does handle the birth pretty well though, i will say.

[bloodblanks]

one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter xii.

As you interact with Mr. Scarletella, you come across a promising opportunity to escape.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

When your eyelids fluttered, opening and closing multiple times as you woke up, you found yourself feeling disoriented. The previous day’s events rushed through your mind, sending bubbles of unease rippling through your gut.

God, what have I done? Your eyebrows instantly knitted together at the memories, your cheeks blazing all the while. You glanced at Mr. Scarletella, who was still asleep. He appeared surprisingly peaceful in his sleep, his skin almost seeming healthier and less pale, though it was likely your imagination. In some way, he was attractive, his face well defined—

No, you shouldn’t be thinking about these things. You physically shook your head, as if to forcibly expel the thoughts from your mind. Trying to change the mental subject, you glanced at your hands, but the sight only caused your heart to plummet. It wasn’t just your fingertips anymore—the grey had spread down to the knuckles.

The familiar acceleration of your heart and the clamminess of your palms were noticeable. The temperature in the room felt much too warm, condensation forming on your forehead as you stared at your hands with wide eyes. You needed to get out of here fast; you were certain of it. But most things were easier said than done, and this was no exception.

You looked back to Mr. Scarletella, who you noticed was now beginning to stir. Amongst the panic and worry you felt, there was also a hint of relief at seeing the entity wake up—somehow, you found yourself thinking that the sooner he was awake, the sooner you’d be able to negotiate your escape. Granted, there was really no guarantee that you would be able to bargain for such, but seeing as your escape attempts had all been futile, negotiation seemed to be your only choice.

You could fight him, you know, your own mind chastised you. Just saying.

You knew it had a point. Nonetheless, you reasoned with yourself that you stood absolutely no chance against him in a fight, and any physical altercation would result in potential injury, which would effectively cause you pain, which was something you wanted to avoid.

At that moment, you remembered the soreness in your skull, your fingers instinctively brushing against your wound, only for you to hiss in discomfort and pull them away. You definitely needed to get that injury checked out. Perhaps you could tell that to Mr. Scarletella. That was surely a valid reason to leave, right?

You started formulating a plan in your head, trying to piece together the right words needed—the vagueness of the language made it a rather difficult task—to convey your desire to see a doctor. But your efforts were quickly wasted as the entity’s eyes snapped wide open, causing you to flinch, before he sat up in bed. He seemed to not notice your presence, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving, and an expression you’ve never witnessed before etched into his ghostly features—fear.

Mr. Scarletella was afraid. Of what, you didn’t know; you concluded that he likely had a nightmare.

When a minute passed and he didn’t speak, you decided to gently initiate a conversation.

“You okay?” you hesitantly asked, hoping you wouldn’t further alarm the man. His sudden, unexpected distress was enough to cause you unrest, too. You knew it was likely an unpleasant dream of his, but until it was confirmed, you could only fret.

When he didn’t respond, the turbulence in your chest intensified, your mind beginning to list off various possibilities for his lack of composure. Whatever could be considered a threat to him would be even more dangerous for you to face.

“Want you teach me you language.” Mr. Scarletella’s sudden statement startled you. You blinked at him in surprise, not fully registering what he was saying.

“You know another language,” he proceeded to elaborate when you didn’t say anything. “Possible you teach me?”

He wanted to learn your language. It was an unusual request, especially considering the troubled expression on his face, but you nodded anyway. You supposed it wouldn’t be a bad idea for him to know your language; it would help facilitate more detailed conversation and easier communication. It would also be much easier to explain in your language your need to see a doctor, and—

God, when you remembered the doctor, your brain also managed to connect a few more dots, a forgotten concern of yours resurfacing as you remembered that Mr. Scarletella finished inside of you. You winced at the memory, a visible frown on your face.

It had taken you far too long to realize that being impregnated by a fucking supernatural entity, while highly unlikely, was not entirely impossible. You had frantically shouted something about it, but it was in the wrong language and also much too late, as the aforementioned monster had already reached his orgasm.

Wonderful, you thought. Absolutely fucking wonderful. You needed to get a pregnancy test alongside your head injury checkup as soon as possible.

You glanced at Mr. Scarletella, eyes narrowing as you analyzed his appearance for a hypothetical fertility rate; he did not seem particularly fertile. That was enough to quell your worries for a while. You remembered then that he was still waiting for your answer, before scrambling to form a coherent response.

“Possible teach,” you nodded in affirmation. His demeanour seemed to brighten just a bit.

—

A lot strange.

As you taught him your language, he was unable to shake off the feeling that he already knew these words. Like a distant memory, ripples of water from a place far away, everything you said was eerily familiar. Almost like he already knew the language, had the words written out on a surface, and all you did was wipe off the dust.

Previously me human?

The question reverberated in his skull, clinging onto every new word he repeated and weighing the letters down with tension. It was a logical and sensible conclusion to come to, and yet, he found the possibility difficult to accept. Being human entailed that he had a life he no longer remembered. Being human entailed that he had lost something, and the concept greatly unsettled him.

Troubled.

He couldn’t help the nagging feeling that whatever was missing was of significant importance, which made it all the more disturbing that he didn’t know what it was.

“You okay?” you questioned him for the third time. He had once again become consumed by his own thoughts, letting them take his focus away from you.

“Yes,” he replied, making use of the new word you taught him. He hoped he had used it correctly. The faint smile on your face indicated that he had.

“What you thinking?” You gestured to his head, though he’d already realized the word’s meaning.

He paused, unsure of what to tell you. Not only was it still hard for him to formulate entire sentences in the human tongue, he also found difficulty in understanding just what was occurring within his own mind.

What me thinking?

“Human,” he hesitantly said. “Me thinking human.”

You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him before letting out a soft, awkward laugh. “I see.”

Sound pleasant. Me like.

He adored the sound of your laughter, was enamoured with the warmth your smile exuded.

“Want know human,” he attempted to elaborate. “Possible you teach me?”

Cute.

Your other eyebrow joined the raised one, both of them lifted from their original positions as you looked at him in surprise.

“You want learn human?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. He knew little to nothing about humans. All he knew was that they were frail, spoke their own language, and from the other world. Perhaps if you told him more about humans, he would be able to understand all the strange visions he’d been having.

Human happy.

The corners of your lips tugged upward in a joyous grin. He wasn’t sure why you were so pleased about this, but he didn’t think much of it, only that he liked seeing this expression on you.

“Possible teach.” You kept smiling. “Me show you me world.”

This time, it was him whose eyes widened. Though he had been to the other world in numerous instances, he only ever stayed in the building. He hadn’t explored the rest of the world; the idea never even occurred to him before. It would be a good start to learning about humans.

Me happy.

He smiled, liking the idea.

“We go another world.” As he finished his statement, he reached down to pick you up. You obliged, holding onto him for support as he left the room, passing through the hallways.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, but he found his movements feeling rather stiff, as though the act of phasing through the air was no longer natural to him, despite it having been no different from walking or talking. He tried to pay no mind to it, but much to his irritation, he discovered that the clumsiness of his movements was slowing the pace of his travels.

Slow. Not pleasant. Not like.

Eventually, when the delay in his actions became too much to bear, he decided to take a break, putting you down momentarily. He would need to figure out what was wrong with his body before continuing the journey. Though the elevator wasn’t too much farther, the agitation spiking with each beat of his heart was becoming overwhelming.

“You okay?” he heard you ask him. He nodded, not wanting to alarm you.

He moved across the corridor. Much to his dismay, it wasn’t just his imagination—his speed had indeed decreased.

Problem. Me troubled.

For a moment, he was lost in thought, his mind wandering through the endless possibilities and reasonings behind something so bizarre happening to him.

The distant sound of rumbling tore him out of his own head. When his vision refocused on the corridor he was in, he noticed that the space was beginning to distort. A sharp, long spike of panic shot through his spine.

His eyes darted around until they landed on your figure; you were waiting where he left you. He dashed towards you, but he wasn’t fast enough—his surroundings had collapsed around him, the hands that were searching for your body, unable to find any landing.

—

So close.

You were so close to making it out of this wretched place, when everything that could possibly have gone wrong, in fact, did go wrong.

It had started off so well, too. You let out a deep, perturbed sigh as you thought back to the initiating moment, when Mr. Scarletella told you he wanted to learn about humans. You couldn’t help but feel slightly remorseful about it, but you took the advantage of the opportunity to suggest returning to your world.

Some part of you insisted that it was ludicrous to feel guilty for deceiving the person who kidnapped you, but the other part of you felt undeniably bad. If it had been anyone else, you likely wouldn’t be so sympathetic, but if your observations and analysis of him were correct, then he wasn’t necessarily an abhorrent person. It would be much easier if you could just think of him as some freak who kidnapped you, and while he technically was one, he was also a non-human creature that didn’t have much knowledge of human customs.

Still, you failed to grasp why he selected you in particular. You would think that he possessed feelings for you if he didn’t seem so awfully oblivious to how human emotions worked.

It didn’t matter now, anyhow. You had convinced him to bring you back to your world, but it seemed fate had other plans for you. The world had once again distorted at just about the worst possible time, and now you were in some hallway—alone, body aching, stomach growling, and mouth parched.

The misfortune-complaining matrix would indicate that you have more than earned the right to complain by now, and so you did, spitting out a venomous string of curses, your fists clenching until your knuckles turned white.

In a brief moment of rage, you swung a closed fist at the nearest wall. The second your hand collided with the hard concrete—or whatever material it was constructed from—you yelped. You quickly withdrew your hand, cradling it with the other, your face twisted in pain.

Great. Your circumstances were already plenty miserable, but now your hand was throbbing too, on top of it all. The frustration within you was rising to a boiling point, your veins overflowing with molten iron. You felt the urge to punch the wall again, but the ache in your hand provided enough warning to stop you.

Your knees wobbled beneath you, your legs struggling to hold up your weight. Not long after, you folded like a chair, slumping down onto the ground with your face buried in your hands as you pitifully wept.

It was all Mr. Scarletella’s fault. It was all his fault for bringing you to this realm, for forcing you to stay here, for not being with you right now. You found yourself desperately lamenting the lack of his presence, and though you felt like a lunatic for thinking this way—in this very moment, Mr. Scarletella represented safety. Despite being the reason you were here, you knew your life wasn’t in danger when around him. And with how close you were to him bringing you back to your world, you couldn’t help but associate his presence to your freedom, as contradictory as that was.

Left alone with your thoughts, you simply sobbed away, feeling utterly sorry for yourself and the deplorable situation you were in. You cried until your eyes were red and eyelids plump, until your tear ducts dried up much like a well emptied of its last drops, until you were completely drained. Weeping was tiresome work, especially when your body was already struggling and feeble.

You were just internally debating on how bad of an idea it would be to take a quick nap here, when amidst your exhaustion, a sharp chord of panic rung through your mind at the sound of approaching footsteps. 

next chapter soon...

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thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[viperify]

𝗔𝗨 | ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Moonlight Cravings.

Short summary: Vampire!Tom has known he’d make you his ever since he first met you. When his need for your blood grows unbearably strong, he knows it’s time to finally make a move.

A/N: As I plan on writing more than just one full-length fic for my Vampire AU anyway and haven’t had the time to work on it yet, I thought I’d get started with a how-vampire!Tom-would-slowly-declare-his-presence-in-your-life drabble/fic.

wordcount: 1,0k

Tom’s presence looms over your life like a shadow. He seems to be wherever you go, and though he never pays you much attention, he still is there. Either casually leaning against the wall near the class you are attending next or accompanying his friends to the Three Broomsticks when you are there as well. Which is quite ironic, considering most people know Tom doesn’t even like butterbeer.

In fact, you are not quite sure if he likes anything really. Each time you share a class, Tom is mostly quiet, except for his witty remarks whenever professors ask questions. Even outside the classroom he doesn’t talk much, mostly found in the library with his head buried in books. Well, as long as you are in the library as well, that is.

You don’t think too much of it. It’s Tom Riddle, after all—naturally one of the most handsome men you have ever laid eyes on, but oh so unreachable. You vividly remember a girl back in your third year asking him to attend the Yule Ball with her. It was a decision she made against the advice of practically everyone she asked, and it ended exactly the same way you had told her it would. Things like these never end well with him, so you don’t even attempt questioning his behaviour—instead, you think you are utterly delusional for even assuming there could be anything between the two of you.

Tom, on the other hand, is entirely consumed by you. From the moment he first caught your unmistakably sweet scent, he knew he had to have you, his mind going blank every time you simply passed him in the corridors. It’s as if there is a force pulling him towards you, one that he can’t control, one that clouds his mind and strips him of any sane thoughts he had left. Taming his needs as a vampire has never been difficult. Not until he met you, that is.

And as soon as bouquets of your favourite flowers show up in your dorm every other week, accompanied with small gifts like your pralines of choice, you can’t help but wonder whether there was a chance Tom’s strange behaviour did have something to do with this. It’s these thoughts that keep you up at night and make you zone out in class. There is not much you can do except wonder who it is that admires you, but you sure have a guess.

During yet another restless night, you decide to get up and take a walk through the castle to calm your mind. The hallways are faintly illuminated by the moon’s glow, shining brightly as it completes yet another full circle around the earth. Although your steps are as quiet as they can possibly be, you soon feel the air shift around you, as though someone is watching you. But when you turn around, no one is there.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around the castle this late at night.” A voice coming from your right remarks, and you almost drop your wand, heart hammering wildly in your chest in response to the unexpected interruption. A tall figure emerges from behind a pillar then, and it takes you less than one second to figure out who it is. You had forgotten that Tom Riddle also happened to be a prefect.

It’s too dark to make out much of his face, but there is an undeniable red glow that flickers in his otherwise dark brown eyes. Before you can even process the thought, he blinks, and it’s gone. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifts just slightly as he takes in your startled expression, raising his eyebrow expectantly.

 “I suppose I- I couldn’t sleep. You must know, walking helps to clear my mind.” You manage to get out, and although it isn’t a lie, your hesitation sure made it sound like one.

Tom huffs. “A selfish action that just cost your house ten points. Now, you surely wouldn’t mind me escorting you to your respective dormitories?”

You don’t try to argue—it is still Tom Riddle you’re dealing with after all. Instead, you respond with a small nod and retrace your steps with him by your side.

“What might your mind be troubled with?” he asks then, his voice cutting through the silence of the night. The question makes you tense slightly, your fingers curling tighter around your wand. It’s the first time he actively looks for a conversation, the first time his presence feels intended and real.

You take a breath, not exactly knowing what to respond. “Your seemingly seventh sense for my whereabouts“ doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer after all.

The upcoming exam season saves you from the awkwardness. Although he doesn’t seem to fully believe you, he lets it go, not speaking another word until you disappear behind your dormitory door.

But even then, you can’t seem to sleep, the image of the red glow in his eyes lingering in your mind. You know there is something you can connect it to, and soon, a memory of a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson in your second year resurfaces.

Full moon. Pale skin. Red eyes. They all match, and yet you find it hard to believe. Vampires have been extinct for nearly 400 years in Great Britain, there was no real reason for you to think he could be one.

Right?

[bougiebutchbitch]

never gonna actually do it because it would be a MASSIVE project but

if I were to write a Shen Jiu redemption arc

it would be with the knowledge that his original character would die like he did in the book - aka, being a prideful, toxic, Binghe-hating, abusive&abused little shit to the end

...then, in classic fanfic fashion, he'd be reincarnated in his shizun-self with young disciple Luo Binghe locked in the woodshed after a beating. Aka, where Shen Yuan came in

of course once he gets over the panic

(and the confused morass of emotions upon seeing Yue Qingyuan alive)

his first thought is. I have to kill that fucking monster.

and he goes to do just that - but Binghe is the protagonist and the protagonist can't die/the System stops him/etc. etc. etc.

eventually, despite a... couple more attempts, Shen Jiu realises the only way he's going to change his fate is the long and hard way (aka, repairing every single relationship he's spent his whole life RUINING)

he starts acting in subtly ooc ways, specifically as a ploy to convince people to like him. He is constantly thinking about how he can manipulate their opinion of him to show himself in a good light, and he is not above undercutting other people to paint himself as a Sweet Innocent Shizun who only puts on a cold mask because he's easily flustered. He does his damned best to convince everyone that he's not really a villain. He's just misunderstood. He's still harsh to his disciples, but it's interspersed with far more (reluctant) praise, and always for a genuine teaching purpose, so he can pretend he cares for them really, deep down.

Oh - it makes him sick. His loathing of Binghe festers as the child slooowly begins to creep out of his shell and become more attached to him. He seeks to maintain as much distance from him as possible while still maintaining his 'kind shizun' demeanour, but of course, Binghe being Binghe (and barely needing an excuse to develop a terrible crush on his teacher) makes that very difficult.

Basically: I want Shen Jiu scheming on how he can trick the whole world into thinking he's not a villain, while he himself still considers himself a despicable and irredeemable monster who is cunningly cheating death. I want his intentions to be genuinely rotten. I want him to loathe everyone and everything, and internally gnash his teeth and roll his eyes and inspect any kindness he's shown, working it into that massive web of paranoia that hovers above his head and tells him all the ways in which his so-called 'friends' and disciples may still turn on him in future

I want him to not realise that actions matter far more than intentions, and genuinely endear himself to a lot of people, his shit personality and all. They're like - yeah, that's Shen Qingqiu! He's a backstabbing two faced son of a bitch, but he keeps pulling through for us at the last moment, and he obviously cares deeply about his disciples! We all love him! He might be a dick, but he's our dick!

All while Shen Jiu is very much stuck in a Paranoid Torment Nexus of his own creation

he becomes the peaks' horrid little cat, is what I'm saying

[sassysnakedemon]

Sorry - it's been a while

So, I've been missing for a while. I had to take a break from socials of all kinds (although, tbh, I really only have tumblr and Ao3). There's been a lot of stuff happening. Trump getting re-elected was just the first brick in the wall (enjoy the Pink Floyd reference, if you like). I've been going through deep clinical depression, which is not unusual for me, but a real stop sign for social activity. I can cope, but only with a very basic amount of social activity, which includes 'real' relationships only, as those make my paycheck come through, where social media relationships do not put ramen on my table.

This sounds bleak, but on the plus side, prioritizing my real world activities has netted me a side gig that pays a hundo an hour for teaching the elderly to play the ukulele. That sounds like a joke, but it really isn't! And it's uniquely fun!!

I've also had to divest all of my investments that were made in the US, and transfer the funds to my bank up here in Canada - that took several days, and I was making sure to make it happen before the Inauguration took place. Luckily, I was able to make that happen, but I have a bunch of work to do now to make sure I can make some good investments in Canada instead. I would surely love to invest so properly that I actually become wealthy, and then I can start giving back in a really big way to the various communities that I so desperately want to support. But that's kinda first world problems, so I understand if you don't care about that! (I mean, my real dream is to become like Michael Sheen and just give up everything to help the people around me, and only keep that which I really need to live - unfortunately, with inflation and everything, what I have now is barely what I need to live for the next couple of years - and again, first world problems, but I have some plans - that don't include crypto - that might actually make it possible for me to turn what little I have into something big that could actually be life changing for the world around me)

On a far more personal note, I've finally made the decision (at the ripe old age of almost 48) to finally transition to male. I wanted to, like 30 years ago, but the LGB community was really unfair to trans people back then, so I spent the last almost 30 years trying so hard to be femme, when that's not what I am. I'm going for top surgery, as soon as I can lose enough weight to make it look good (I'm not enough overweight to have a problem with surgery, but enough that I wouldn't be happy with the results), and then we're on the road. If anyone wonders, my name now is Ezra - partly a cultural thing, and partly a Good Omens fan thing (if you know, you know), and I've gotten approval from everyone - friends, mother (and that was the hardest one, friends were all like 'yeah, we knew', but mom is a bit difficult) and best of all, my husband, who said 'I'm not much of a boob man anyway' in answer to my revelation. He also said that he couldn't live without me, no matter who, or what I was. That's something special right there! The plus is that I would be a gay man after transition anyway - never been really attracted to women in the first place, just didn't want to be one. So, I'm still wildly attracted to my husband of 20 years (this year in November - on Guy Fawkes Day, no less), but now I'm coming at the attraction as the man I've always been, rather than the woman I've been cosplaying for way too long. That's something, and it's been a big thing eating at my mind and soul for a long time. It's been keeping me from being completely open with everyone, and I apologize for that. But I had to wrestle with this particular demon one last time before I could rejoin the world.

I've also had walking pneumonia for the last month and a half, which does NOT make it easy to do anything, so I've been avoiding anything which isn't strictly necessary to do. I'm starting to recover though, so I will try harder now to rejoin 'all y'all', to make an appropriate Texasism, as I lived there for enough time to pick up the local jargon.

Suffice it to say that I will try harder to be a better friend to the friends I've made here, but give me a minute - I'm still finding my feet. And I've had a bit of trouble with the GO fandom, as I am finding it hard right now to hyper-focus on it when I've got so much else going on.

Can I say that the world sucks right now? Can I say to all of my friends here, and all of the friends that I'm yet to make, that I feel you, and will protect you? I am really feeling a sort of way, and it's hard to deal with. I wish the troubles were over, and that we could all sing together in fields of green - that we could love each other, even when we don't always agree. I would give anything, including the blood in my veins, for that future.

Sorry for the ramble - meds are partly to blame, but so is my depression - and my planning for a future I cannot see. I want to be engaged, but I'm finding it difficult. I want to be present for you, but that may not always be possible. I'm trying though, and I haven't forgotten any of the friendships I've made here - I'm just trying to be a better version of me before I come back and interact with everyone again!

@missunderstoodlyrics, @naturallyteal, @isiaiowin, @ilikeblue, @inezrable, @copperplatebeech,@phoen1xr0se, @di-42

[milk-and-trickery]

Shadow Milk didn't care if he was pulled down. The cool floor, the coolness of his dough, considering how feverish the other felt. It was best to sit there for a while, and just hold the other close to him. The Jester had not been expecting the pain, of feeling like they were thrown into a mixing bowl and jostled by an overzealous witch.

Stars above he knew THAT feeling too well.

"You can have more than a mere minute. I need it too." He whispered gently to his other half, claws gently running through their hair as he whispered to them. The dull ache would take time to fade, that he was confident in. And behind the physical ache, there was a soulful longing left in the absence of their merger.

"We definitely need to tweak the method. Practice may.. minimize this weakness as well." He nodded his head slowly, letting out a pained breath. Ah, it even hurt to breathe....

They'd need a way to lessen the aftermath they were feeling. It was as if he got headbutted by an angry cream ram and thrown into a tree.

"It was. It was difficult to draw the line of where our mind was. where Shadow Milk Cookie ended and Truthless Recluse began. Terrifying but-" It was freeing, in a way. It reminded him of the power he wielded before the Witches stripped him of it, and locked him in the tree.

But also distinctly.. different. More controlled. Lacking the heavy weight of the abyss clawing at his mind. Because this time, he wasn't alone. His hands dug into the robes of Truthless, pulling them as close as possible to take in their scent. The smell of vanilla was still faint, still there.. But blueberry pomegranate was far more prominent.

"Stars above.. everything hurts." He muttered, choosing to lay still with his arms wrapped around the priest.

It soothed him.

"Did you feel it too? That.. that was the power I wielded alone before the Witches locked me away. Before they broke my.. no.. our power into two." Yes.. he didn't care that they were laying on the floor, in the middle of their bedroom. Likely will be resting there for the meantime. Because he did NOT want to move.

His chest is hurting.The dull ache of the soul jam,his whole body ached from the transformation.It took more out them then he wanted.There was subtle differences in his body,changes that remained as a side effect of their dough mixing with the beast.Hair seemed to have grown longer,the tips of his blonde hair fade into blue.Eyes seemed to have a inhuman glow to them.The cracks of scars he once held from the battle eons ago healed. Hand raised to clutch the soul jam in his chest feeling it's beat steadily slow.He felt relief when the other reached out for him.Their shared connection seemed stonger then before.He groaned tugging the other down onto the floor.He plopped right ontop of them hugging his other half.He didn't care they were on the floor his face felt flush,running a minor fever after the experience.The Jester's natural coolness felt nice to him.

"H-ha..I am fine...I need a minute like this."

Taking in the other's Blueberry scent.Witches be damned that hurt more then expected..Felt like he turned back to dough and was thrown in a mixing bowl.The form felt great but the aftermath left to be desired.It certainly made the priest cling onto Shadow Milk more craving the contact.

"Mngh.....That was certainly a experience all right..."

[dailyfigures]

im still a minor and im kinda of scared about moving out for like college on my own because idk if ill be able to keep my spending habits in check.... like right now i still have my parents so i dont buy as much but im scared that once im on my own i will spend lots and lots of money. sorry to ask like this but do you maybe have a word of advice as someone that went through something similar? its fine if you dont and thank you ♡

i understand and i do sadly have to say that is what tripped me up. my addiction started when i turned 18 and all my savings, my parents' savings for me and everything was transferred to me. i was also going through a really difficult time and i had pretty much nothing to keep me going. not a great combo!

more than anything i'd say mental health is the basis of any addiction. if your mental health is low, you will be more desperate for the spike of happy brain chemicals that purchasing things causes. if you're overal content/happy in your daily life, those spikes won't be worth nearly as much to you.

i would recommend for you to work on your mental health the best you can! if possible i'd recommend therapy to help you out. self care is very important, it's a lot harder to feel good on 3 hours of sleep with greasy hair and half a cracker in your stomach.

if you have a family member or friend who you trust, ask them to help you budget! they can help you figure out how much you should save and how much fun spending money you'll have each month. money tracking apps can help a lot too. i downloaded one a while back during a phase where i was getting a few too many little treats and drinks and i needed to have a visual overview of the percentages i was spending on treats, bills, fun, etc.

i currently just use different "jars"/side accounts in my bank account app. i have one for the savings my dear parents saved for me for college or an apartment or something if this fuckass economy ever allows it (i do not touch these savings), my own savings from my salary (the goal is to grow these savings however i do touch them so that's not successful every month) and just my paying account (when i get my salary i leave a few hundreds in here and the rest goes into my own savings account). not sure whether everyone's bank apps have these options but that's just my current situation!

long story short; take care of yourself and your mental health and you won't be as vulnerable to addiction! don't be afraid to ask for help, now or later. if you ever notice that things might not be going too well financially, take action IMMEDIATELY! do not wait until you have a full blown addiction, tell your parents you're struggling with managing your money and ask if they can keep your savings safe on their accounts. go to therapy if possible. you are never alone! be kind to yourself and you will be fine!

[powerfulkicks]

trying to replace like everything on my 3ds

[tangledinink]

I’ve been having your aus in my brain for a while. I absolutely love them 🥰

Question for Swanatello, have you ever had a strong desire to go back home to the lair or do you even remember much about the lair being your home, even with the bracelet and board? Like, have you ever in the middle of the day just randomly think “I want to go home” while thinking about the lair?

Of course he does. He doesn't remember details very often... but the one downside of the bracelet is that now he is almost constantly aware that something is wrong. Even when he doesn't understand what's going on-- he almost always knows that something is wrong with him and with the world around him. He wishes for things he can't remember. He aches over the absence of things that he can't recall. He misses people that he doesn't know. He can't remember home, but he knows he's not there.

Swanatello hates to be alone now. Overall, it's for the best, it helps, but every evening he's introduced to the idea that something is horribly wrong, and then he's promised that someone is going to be there soon to help. And every evening, he has to wait to see if that promise will be fulfilled and if his family will come and help him.

[vitalphenomena]

WHAT ELSE COULD POSSIBLY BE TO IT? Margot does not demand to know this; she has already been difficult enough. Besides, her wild eyes say everything they need to say. She cannot calm back down into the woman prodigy and the woman prodigy alone. A fresh corpse is too close.

Carrying the man inside goes more smoothly than expected. With him slightly out of sight, she allows herself to feel the slightest pinpricks of relief.

"You sound an awful lot like you're judging," Margot mutters. She does not elaborate or apologize, instead busy with smoothing out the skirt of her expensive, professional dress. The sleeves of the sweater layered on top are wet, still, from the utility sink. She squeezes the fabric. Nothing comes out.

"Let's just go back to the hotel. There's nothing else we can reasonably do without getting caught." And, just so Willow knows for a certainty: "I'm not getting caught."

"Pretending that that's all there is to it," Willow shrugs carelessly. Takes a killer to know a killer. She isn't phased by Margot's posturing, not with fresh blood in her mouth - the taste of it still fucking lingering in the back of her tongue the way chocolate does. It leaves her spit syrupy, the monstrous part of her is indulged, indecent. She blinks her dark eyes over at Margot, and goes wordlessly along with her plan for covering the body.

She takes him by the shoulders. He is light, and Willow could carry him in herself without dragging the stain of his blood across the tarmac if she wasn't worried about exposing Margot to more of what she really is.

Back inside the shed, she takes it upon herself to wash her hands, her face.

"You protected us. I'm not judging."

[skunkes]

never underestimate a cheye's ability to think "what if this is as good as it gets" about any situation

[suranastair]

Kestrel "Kes" de Riva 🐦‍⬛

🟣 Age || 31 🟣 Lineage || Human 🟣 Pronouns || He/Him ~ Transgender 🟣 Identity || Gay 🟣 Class || Mage 🟣 Specialization(s) || Spellblade 🟣 Faction || The Antivan Crows 🟣 Romance || Lucanis 🟣 Besties || Neve & Emmrich 🟣 Frenemies || Davrin

[gibbearish]

a weird little thing abt me is i will definitely mock shitty ai art but it never feels right doing it about the hands simply by virtue of the fact that a lot of them look indistinguishable from the hands i was doing years ago when i first got a drawing tablet

[primrosebitch]

my circulation has been way worse than usual lately, like i've been needing to use a heating pad on my feet to fall asleep because my feet have been so cold it's keeping me up, and after just a few minutes in open air my hands will be uncomfortably freezing and i'll have to warm them up with the warmer parts of my body (i.e. neck, stomach, armpits, etc), and it's not like all of me is cold either, my face is still frequently uncomfortably warm and my torso has also felt warmer than usual (which i've just realized might actually be caused by my circulation worsening because now my blood won't be cooled in my extremities nearly as much), i have no clue why this is happening though because nothing i've been doing has changed at all, my routine and all that is the as before my circulation started getting worse and no medication changes have happened around the time it started (which wasn't even that long ago)