#we're irreparably bonded

[theragethatisdesire]

*inhales*

I LOVE YOU AND APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH AND I AM SO GLAD WE BECAME FRIENDS TEXTING WITH YOU MAKES MY DAY AND I ENJOY BEING SILLY WITH YOU A LOT

#delulubesties

WTAF MELLLLL THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME A CUTIE PIE MESSAGE.

i love you so much!!!!! this goes to show for anyone who wants to reach out to that cool mutual you have that you really want to be friends with, DO IT. i did and now i have a new best friend and wouldn't change it for the world.

you are my silly delulu bestie til the end of time miss mel, the geto to my gojo forever and always <333

[mononijikayu]

casual — geto suguru.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, it was nice. Just, you know, casual." "Right, casual. I know, doll." Suguru echoed, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before he looked away. "No strings attached." "Exactly, yeah…." you said, forcing a smile. "We're both busy, and this doesn't have to mean anything more than... what it was." "Yeah." he said, his voice a bit quieter. "Just a one-time thing. No need to complicate things."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Angst, Unrequited Love, Romance, Casual Friends with Benefit, Falling In Love, Lack of Communication, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Food, Disassociation, Smut, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Food Withdrawal, Depiction of Disassociation;

WORDS: 6k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this took me awhile to write and i wish it didn't but i was busy trying to help my brother heal up from his own fever and then i also felt unwell after going out and visiting my cousins. crazy week so far, but i'm glad to be writing again!!! i'll be publishing pasilyo tomorrow!!! i hope you enjoy this and see you soon <3

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YOU HATE THIS APARTMENT. You know you picked it out. You went through the painstaking process of finding the best you could afford in all of Tokyo, sifting through countless listings, visiting countless open houses, and scrutinizing every detail with a critical eye. You even reached out to Nanami, seeking his advice on how he had found his own place, hoping his insight would guide you to something perfect. 

But now, standing in the middle of the empty apartment, it just feels overwhelming. The walls seem to close in around you, their pristine surfaces a harsh reminder of the solitude that awaits you. The space, while objectively beautiful and well-chosen, feels alien and unwelcoming. The soft, neutral colors and high-end finishes that once seemed so appealing now appear cold and impersonal, like a display in a showroom rather than a home.

Each corner, every room, is meticulously arranged, yet it all feels distant, disconnected. The furniture you carefully selected—elegant, stylish pieces that should have brought comfort—now feels like mere props in a stage set, lacking the warmth and familiarity of a true home. The shelves stand empty, the walls bare, and the lack of personal touches only amplifies the feeling of displacement.

You had envisioned this place as a haven, a refuge where you could build a new chapter of your life. Yet now, it feels like a stark reminder of everything you’ve lost, of the gaping void left by Suguru’s absence and the weight of the decisions that brought you here. The reality of living alone in such a polished, empty space contrasts sharply with the vibrant, chaotic life you once had, and the dissonance is almost too much to bear.

The once-anticipated comfort of the apartment now feels like a cage, trapping you in a space that reflects the isolation and emotional distance you’re struggling to overcome. You try to imagine filling the space with personal belongings, with memories that would make it truly yours, but the task feels daunting, almost insurmountable. Each step you take feels heavy, burdened by the weight of unfulfilled expectations and the deep, pervasive sadness that lingers in every corner of this new, unwelcoming environment.

Since Haibara died and Suguru defected, the world has felt irreparably altered. Their absence has left a void not just in your life but in the very fabric of the world you once knew. Their departures were seismic shifts, upheavals that have reshaped everything—your sense of security, your understanding of your place in the world, and the very essence of who you are. The bonds you once relied on have frayed, the connections you took for granted have been severed, and you are left grappling with a reality that seems both unfamiliar and unkind.

The change is not just in the external world but within yourself. The person you were before all these events feels like a distant memory, replaced by someone who struggles to find meaning and connection in the aftermath of loss and betrayal. How could you not change when everything around you has been transformed so drastically? The world has moved on, and you are left to navigate its new contours alone.

People are worried about you. The concern is palpable, especially from Gojo Satoru, who has always been like a brother to you, a constant in a world that has become increasingly unpredictable. His worry is perhaps the most poignant, reflecting the deep bond you share and the impact of your struggles on those who care about you. His concern is a reminder that while you feel isolated, there are still people who want to help, who see the pain you’re enduring, and who are willing to support you even as you grapple with the overwhelming weight of your new reality.

He’d been trying to reach you for weeks, his calls and messages a persistent thread in the silence of your days. Each notification from Gojo felt like a distant echo, a reminder of the world outside the narrow confines of your apartment. Yet, each time you saw his name on your screen, you hesitated, unable to muster the energy to respond. The weight of the past was a constant companion, keeping you awake through endless nights.

The dreams, when they came, were a cruel mockery of the life you once knew. Each night was filled with hauntingly vivid memories of better times with Suguru—laughter shared in quiet moments, his touch, and the warmth of his presence that now felt like an elusive phantom. The contrast between those dreams and the stark reality of your waking life was almost too much to bear.

Food, once a source of comfort and nourishment, had become a meaningless necessity. The meals you prepared, though carefully chosen, lay untouched on the counter. Their taste had lost all appeal, a reflection of the emptiness that now colored every aspect of your existence. Eating had become a mere act of survival, a stark reminder of the joy that had been stripped away.

The outside world, with its bustling streets and vibrant energy, felt distant, almost foreign. Tokyo’s vibrant chaos seemed to exist in a different realm, one that you could observe but not truly engage with. The city that once felt like a living, breathing entity now felt like a backdrop to your solitary struggle, its noise and activity a harsh contrast to the silence of your own life.

It was on one of these evenings, shrouded in solitude, that Gojo finally appeared at your door. His concern was palpable, a stark reminder of how far you’d retreated from those who cared about you. When you opened the door, he stood there, his face a mixture of frustration and worry.

“I’ve been calling you for weeks.” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

You tried to muster a smile, but it fell short, your exhaustion too profound to conceal. “Oh, Gojo. I didn’t expect you.”

He stepped inside, his eyes quickly taking in the state of your apartment. The neatness of the space did nothing to hide the emptiness that pervaded it. “You don’t look well.” he said, his cerulean gaze moving to the cold meal on the counter. “I’ve been worried. What’s going on?”

You shrugged, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “It’s nothing. Just... struggling, I guess. Food doesn’t taste right anymore.”

Gojo moved closer to the counter, his eyes scanning the untouched food. “This isn’t just about food. You need to take care of yourself. When was the last time you had a decent meal? When was the last time you really slept?”

You looked away, your voice trembling as you tried to suppress the tears. “I don’t sleep much. When I do, it’s filled with dreams of Suguru. It’s like he’s everywhere, but also nowhere.”

His expression softened, a flicker of empathy in his eyes. “I get it. You’re missing him. But you can’t let it consume you. You need to find a way to move forward.”

You shook your head, the enormity of the situation pressing down on you. “It’s not that simple. The outside world feels so distant now, almost foreign. I’m just... lost.”

Gojo’s hand gently rested on your shoulder, his touch a grounding presence. “I know…But you can’t do this. He…he wouldn’t want this either.”

You knew that. But you felt a pang of guilt as you tried to reassure Satoru about your well-being. The effort to project a sense of normalcy, to offer him even a glimmer of hope that things might improve, weighed heavily on you. You knew that your struggles were far from over, and while you didn’t want to burden him with the full extent of your despair, the pretense felt like a delicate dance on the edge of honesty.

Because you don’t know how he does it. How he keeps himself from going insane. You wished you did. You wished you could be him. Because you’re exhausted. You wanted to move on. You wanted to be free. But still, you’re here in this cage of grief, living like this. Being in pain. Being empty. 

Your graduation, which should have been a moment of triumph, was marred by his absence. The empty chair next to you was a constant reminder of what you’d lost. Now, in the stillness of your apartment, the silence is deafening. The memories of laughter and shared dreams haunt you, and the loneliness seeps into your bones. 

You can’t help but wonder where he is, what he’s doing, if he ever thinks of you too. Suguru’s defection was more than just a betrayal; it was a fracture, a deep wound that hasn’t healed. And as you sit in the vast emptiness of your apartment, you wonder if it ever will.

Back when you lived in Jujutsu High's dorms, life was different. Shoko would pop by unannounced, always ready to share the latest gossip, her presence a comforting constant. Those moments of laughter and whispered secrets felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, you had Digimon show nights with Satoru, the two of you arguing over favorite characters and plot twists, the banter and camaraderie a soothing balm to the stresses of your training.

And then there were those cold nights when you needed warmth, and Suguru Geto was there. His presence was a refuge, his arms a sanctuary. The conversations you'd have, the plans you'd make for the future, they were all wrapped in a cocoon of shared understanding and affection. His departure left a gaping hole, one that you haven't been able to fill.

Now, you are all alone. Anyone is, with your one’s grief. And now you truly are, separated from everyone else. The silence is oppressive, the loneliness a constant companion. The walls of your new apartment seem to close in on you, a stark reminder of what you once had and what you've lost. The memories of Shoko's gossip, Satoru's laughter, and Suguru's warmth are ghosts that haunt you, their absence a painful reminder of the life you once knew.

In the stillness of the night, you sometimes catch yourself hoping for a knock on the door, for Suguru to walk in with that familiar smile, as if everything could go back to the way it was. But reality is harsh, and you know that those days are gone. All you have now are the memories and the lingering hope that somehow, someday, things might change.

Geto Suguru left without saying anything, that day he went on his mission. He was supposed to be back in a day or two—at least that’s what he said during the phone call you shared when he was on that train. His voice, calm and reassuring, echoed in your mind long after the call ended. But that was the last time you heard his voice. The last time he called you. It was him getting off your seesaw game, finally stepping out of your world and leaving you with nothing but a broken heart.

And yet, he was never your boyfriend. You and him kept up the pretense, a delicate dance of closeness and distance, never truly naming what you had. The word "casual" was used way too much, a shield to protect fragile hearts from the vulnerability of the word "love." You remember the nights spent together, the conversations that felt like they meant something more, but neither of you dared to cross that line.

You often think back to that call, replaying every word, every nuance in his voice. It was supposed to be just another mission, nothing out of the ordinary. But something shifted, something changed, and Suguru never came back. His departure was like a cruel twist of fate, leaving you grappling with unanswered questions and unspoken feelings.

In the aftermath, you were left to navigate the wreckage alone. The routines you shared, the subtle intimacy of your connection, all shattered. The memories of his touch, his laugh, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching—they haunt you, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

You’ve tried to move on, to piece together a semblance of normalcy, but the void Suguru left is vast and unrelenting. The "casual" facade you both maintained now feels like a cruel joke, the missed opportunities for something deeper, more meaningful, a constant source of regret. You wonder if he ever felt the same, if he ever wanted to bridge the gap between you, but the answers are lost to the silence he left behind.

The seesaw game you played, the delicate balance of give and take, is now a lonely ride. You’re left suspended in midair, longing for the weight of his presence to bring you back down. But all you have are memories and the lingering ache of a love that was never fully realized, a connection that was always just out of reach.

The room was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the city outside the window. You lay there, the sheets tangled around your legs, your mind spinning with a mix of emotions. Suguru was next to you, propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes watching you intently.

"That was... something." you finally said, breaking the silence.

Suguru chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Yeah, it was," he agreed. "Unexpected, but not unwelcome."

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, it was nice. Just, you know, casual."

"Right, casual. I know, doll." Suguru echoed, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before he looked away. "No strings attached."

"Exactly, yeah…." you said, forcing a smile. "We're both busy, and this doesn't have to mean anything more than... what it was."

"Yeah." he said, his voice a bit quieter. "Just a one-time thing. No need to complicate things."

You felt a pang in your chest but ignored it, keeping your tone light. "Right, no need to complicate things. We have enough going on with our missions and training."

"Absolutely, you’re right." Suguru said, but his purple eyes told a different story. There was a flicker of something deeper, something more, but it was quickly masked by a casual smile. "We're just two friends who had a good time."

"Exactly." you repeated, wishing you could believe it. "......Just two friends."

Suguru reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I don't want this to change anything between us, doll." he said softly. "I value what we have."

You nodded, your heart pounding. "Me too. This doesn't have to change anything."

He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Good. I'm glad we agree."

You both lay there for a moment longer, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, Suguru sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "So, breakfast?"

You laughed, the tension breaking slightly. "Yeah, breakfast sounds good."

You felt like crying again, and you hated it. You hated yourself for it. Because there was nothing between you and Suguru. You were casual. It’s been a year, and there was nothing after that. He left you. He chose his path. He chose to burn the world to free himself from torment. But now, you are in torment. 

You sat on the edge of your bed, the weight of the silence pressing down on you. The memories of that night haunted you, the way he had looked at you, the way his touch had set your skin on fire. It was casual. Just a one-time thing. That’s what you told yourself, what you both agreed on. But the lie felt like a knife twisting in your gut now.

Suguru had left, and with him, he took the future you had secretly hoped for. You were in love with him. You didn’t want anything to be casual with him. You didn’t want it to be nothing. You wanted more, so much more, and now you knew you would never get anything.

The tears threatened to spill over, and you clenched your fists, trying to hold them back. You hated how weak you felt, how vulnerable. The world moved on, but you were stuck, trapped in a web of your own making. Suguru’s absence was a constant ache, a reminder of what you had lost, what you could never have.

He chose his path, and it led him away from you. It led him to destruction, to a darkness that swallowed him whole. And now, you were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, alone in the vast emptiness of your new apartment. The echoes of your own thoughts were deafening, and the realization that you would never see him again, never hear his voice, never feel his touch—it was almost too much to bear.

You buried your face in your hands, the tears finally escaping, hot and bitter. The sobs wracked your body, each one a painful reminder of your unspoken feelings. You had wanted so much more, but you had been too afraid to ask, too afraid to risk the fragile balance you had. And now, it was too late.

Suguru was gone, and with him, any chance of something more. You were left with memories and regrets, with the knowledge that he had chosen his path, and you were not a part of it. The torment of unrequited love consumed you, a relentless ache that you couldn’t escape. You cried for what was, for what could have been, and for the future that would never be.

There was a strange stillness in the air, a quiet that felt almost suffocating. It felt different tonight. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall, your thoughts a tangled mess of memories and regrets. The knock on your door was so soft, you almost didn't hear it. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it, but then it came again, more insistent this time.

You wiped your eyes, forcing yourself to stand. Each step toward the door felt like walking through quicksand, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren't expecting anyone. As you reached for the doorknob, a part of you wondered if you were dreaming, if the grief had finally driven you mad.

You opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking in protest. And there he was. Geto Suguru stood in the doorway, looking every bit as if you remembered him, but different somehow. His eyes held a depth of sadness, a haunted look that mirrored your own. He seemed exhausted. As much as you, you think. But you say nothing for a few moments. You just stare at him, as though trying to be sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

"Suguru?" Your voice was barely a whisper, the word catching in your throat.

He gave you a small, almost hesitant smile. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotions. “Why—”

"I needed to see you, doll." he said softly. "I just had to see you tonight….will you let me in?”

You don’t know how he found out your address. Or how he was able to know which apartment block yours was. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to force anything tonight. You nodded and stepped back, allowing him to enter. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the words that had been left unsaid. You closed the door and turned to face him, your heart aching with a mix of hope and fear.

"Why now?" you asked, your eyes searching for him. “Why come back to me now? I….I’m not…”

He looks at you, almost longingly. “I don’t know.”

The weight of Suguru's confession hung in the air, but before you could process it, he spoke again, breaking the silence. "I know this is unexpected. I know I don't have the right to just show up here like this, but I need to talk to you.”

You stepped back, the doorway now feeling like a chasm between you. "Suguru, this is a bad idea. You shouldn’t be—”

He took a hesitant step inside, his presence filling the space. "I just want to talk. Please."

The room felt smaller, more suffocating, with him in it. The tension was palpable, a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. He glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on familiar objects—things that hadn't changed since he left. Things he wished wouldn't change. From the corner of his eye, he could see it. That uniform button he left behind. He purses his lips.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

You crossed your arms, trying to hold yourself together. "How do you think I am, Suguru? There's an order to kill you on the spot. If people find out you're here with me, the higher ups will get me.”

He flinched at your words, a shadow passing over his face. "I know the risks. I wouldn't have come if I didn't think it was important."

You shook your head, frustration and fear mingling in your chest. "Important? You think this is important? You left, Suguru. You choose your path, and it has nothing to do with me. Now you show up out of nowhere, and you want to talk?"

"I had to." he said, his voice almost pleading. "I've made so many mistakes, but leaving you was the worst one. I had to see you, to tell you how I feel."

Your heart ached at his words, but the reality of the situation loomed large. "And what do you expect me to do with that information? Do you want me to just forgive and forget? To pretend like everything's fine when it's not?"

He took another step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I don't expect anything. I just needed you to know. I needed to try and make things right."

You looked away, the emotions swirling inside you too much to bear. "Suguru, you don't understand. It's not just about us. If they find out you're here, they'll kill you. And I'll be branded a traitor."

He nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of your words. "I know. And I'm sorry for putting you in this position. But I couldn't stay away. Not anymore."

The room was thick with tension, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you both. You wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between you, but the fear of the consequences held you back.

"I don't know what to do." you admitted, your voice breaking. "I don't know how…I don’t know how to handle this."

Suguru stepped closer, his hand hovering near yours. "You don't have to do anything. Just let me be here, even if it's just for a little while. Let me be with you."

You looked up at him, the pain and regret in his eyes mirroring your own. The risk was enormous, but the pull of your heart was stronger. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that things could be different, that maybe, somehow, you could find a way through this together.

But reality crashed back down, harsh and unyielding. "Suguru, this can't last. You know that."

He nodded, his expression filled with sorrow. "I know. But for now, can we just..."

You took a deep breath, the conflict tearing you apart. "Okay. For now."

Suguru’s eyes softened at your words, relief washing over his features. The air between you was thick with unspoken emotions, the tension palpable. You could feel your resolve wavering, the walls you had built around your heart crumbling with every passing second.

He took another step closer, closing the distance between you. His hand reached out, gently brushing against yours. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze held yours.

“For now.” he repeated softly, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and longing.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. The months of separation, the endless nights of aching for him, all came crashing down in that moment. You closed the gap between you, your lips finding his in a desperate, hungry kiss.

Suguru responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions you had both kept bottled up for so long. It was as if you were trying to make up for lost time, to pour all your love and longing into that single, searing connection.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to assure yourself that he was really there. Suguru’s hands roamed over your back, his touch igniting a fire within you. The kiss deepened, growing more fervent, more desperate. You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other. The intensity of your emotions left you both breathless, but neither of you pulled away.

“Suguru.” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt.

“I know.” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “I know.”

You kissed him again, this time even more passionately, your need for him overwhelming any lingering doubts. His hands slid under your shirt, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. You gasped against his lips, your body responding to him in ways you had tried to forget.

The world outside ceased to exist, the only thing that mattered was Suguru. Being here with you. The kiss grew more intense, a fierce clash of lips and tongues, as if you were both trying to make up for the lost time, for all the moments you had been apart.

Suguru’s hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and guiding you toward the bed. You didn’t resist, your body craving his touch, his closeness. As he laid you down gently, his lips never leaving yours, you felt a sense of rightness, a feeling that this was where you were meant to be.

His body pressed against yours, the heat between you growing more intense. Every touch, every kiss, was a reminder of what you had lost and found again. Your hands roamed over his back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

“Suguru.” you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of need and desperation.

He responded with a soft groan, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I’ve missed you so much, doll.” he murmured against your skin. “Too much…”

You arched into his touch, your body responding to him in ways you had almost forgotten. The intensity of your desire for him was overwhelming, a force you couldn’t control. You pulled him back up, capturing his lips in another searing kiss.

As the kiss deepened, the intensity grew, the passion between you igniting like a wildfire. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more.

The walls themselves felt like they were closing in, drawn tighter by the charged energy of the moment. The temperature seemed to rise with every movement, the warmth of your bodies pressed together creating a cocoon of intimacy and passion. 

You moaned against the kiss, feeling his hand around the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He was always so good at making you defenseless when it came to him. When it came to Suguru, you surrendered without a fight.

His lips trailed down your jawline, planting heated kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, your body arching into him, craving more. His other hand roamed over your back, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were memorizing every inch of you.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this." he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. “How much I missed you.”

You could barely form words, your mind clouded with desire. "S–suguru…." you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own gaze dark with intensity. "Say it, doll." he urged, his voice a low, husky command. “Use your words.”

"Suguru, please." you repeated, feeling the heat of his name on your lips, the weight of it in the air between you. “I need you.”

A satisfied smile curved his lips before he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fierce, possessive hunger. You responded eagerly, your hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him.

His hand slid down from your neck to the small of your back, pulling you against him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a mix of intense pleasure and deep, unfulfilled longing. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears, drowning out any remaining doubts.

As the kiss grew more fervent, more desperate, you felt yourself melting into him, your defenses crumbling with every touch, every caress. Suguru had always had this effect on you, this ability to make you forget everything else, to make you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

"I missed you." you whispered against his lips, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

He groaned in response, his hand sliding up under your shirt, his touch searing against your skin. "I missed you too, doll." he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "More than you know."

As he continued to kiss you, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made your heart ache, you realized that no matter what happened next, no matter the consequences, this moment was worth it. Being with Suguru, feeling his love, his desire, his need—it was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had been missing.

And in that instant, you knew you would face any danger, any threat, just to keep him here with you, to hold onto this feeling for as long as you could. Because when it came to Suguru, you were willing to surrender without a fight.

The heat between you was almost unbearable, the intensity of your desire for Suguru consuming you. His hands continued their exploration, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel his need, his desperation, mirrored in your own.

"Suguru…" you whispered again, your voice a mix of longing and urgency.

He responded with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting, exploring. Your hands roamed over his back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you. The sensation of his body pressed against yours was intoxicating, driving you to the brink of madness.

His hand slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing a path up your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he reached the clasp of your bra, deftly undoing it. The feeling of his hands on your bare skin was electric, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

"You feel so good, doll." he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding instinctively. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours. He helped you, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen.

You ran your hands over his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. He groaned softly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you closer. The feel of his arousal against your thigh sent a surge of desire through you, your need for him growing more intense with every passing second.

He lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of you. "You're beautiful." he said, his voice filled with admiration.

You blushed under his gaze, feeling a mix of shyness and exhilaration. "Suguru." you breathed, reaching for him.

He kissed you again, hungrier than before. You could feel his hands sliding down to your jeans, unbuttoning them with practiced ease. You helped him, pushing the fabric down your hips, kicking them off along with your underwear. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat between you, heightening your senses.

Suguru's eyes roamed over your body, his expression one of reverence and hunger. He reached for you, his hands gentle yet firm as he guided you back onto the bed. You lay there, your heart pounding, as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, revealing the full extent of his arousal.

He climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over yours, the heat of his skin radiating against you. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring every inch of you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

"I need you." he whispered against your skin, his voice filled with urgency.

"Then take me." you replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly entered you. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you gasping, your body adjusting to the fullness of him.

"So deep, Su…." you moaned, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into his skin.

He moved slowly at first, his strokes deep and measured, his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze, the connection between you, was almost too much to bear. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on.

He responded with a groan, his pace quickening, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moved together in perfect rhythm, your bodies melding into one, the world outside fading away.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement—each a story of love and desire you felt for each other. The intensity built with each passing second, your moans mingling with his, the sound of your bodies coming together filling the room.

"S–suguru!" you gasped, feeling the tension building, the climax approaching. “I….I’m close!”

He kissed you deeply, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. "I love you, doll." he whispered against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. “More than you know.”

The words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure, your vision blurring as the orgasm washed over you. Suguru followed moments later, releasing a powerful, shuddering wave that left him breathless, his body collapsing against yours.

You lay there together, your bodies intertwined, the aftermath of your lovemaking leaving you both spent and sated. For a moment, the world was perfect, the dangers and fears forgotten. In that moment, all that mattered was the love you shared, the connection that bound you together.

Suguru propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze tender as he looked down at you. You turned to face him, your eyes heavy with a mixture of satisfaction and lingering emotions. He stroked your hair gently, his touch soothing. 

"I know I’ve been gone for a long time.”

“You have.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you without any explanation." He whispered to you. “For making you suffer.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as you listened to his words. "It’s been really hard. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back. And when you did… it was like opening old wounds all over again."

Suguru’s fingers traced patterns on your back, his touch calming. "I understand. I’ve had time to think about everything, and I realize now how much I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. But I needed to see you, to try to make things right, even if I’m not sure how."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. "What do you want from me, Suguru? What do we do now?"

He took a deep breath, his expression serious. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were before. I just want to be honest with you.” 

The sincerity in his voice touched something deep inside you. You took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You’re someone dear to me, Suguru. You always will be.”

You could see how painfully beautiful his smile was. And just as much, how easily he started to grieve this moment. “I know.”

You snuggled closer to him, your body seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace. As the weight of the conversation and the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster began to take their toll, you felt yourself growing drowsy.

Suguru’s arms tightened around you, his presence a soothing balm to your restless heart. "You should get some rest," he murmured, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here until you fall asleep."

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The feeling of his body pressed against yours, the gentle caress of his hand on your back, was all you needed to drift off.

When you awoke, it was to the soft, hesitant brush of Suguru’s lips against yours. You stirred, your eyes blinking open to find him gazing at you with a mixture of sadness and affection.

“I have to go, doll,” Suguru said quietly, his voice filled with regret. “But I’ll be thinking of you. Always. Wherever I go, wherever I am. I’ll only love you. Only you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, each syllable resonating deep within you. You wanted to respond, to find the right words to express how much his declaration meant to you, but the lump in your throat made it difficult to speak.

Instead, you simply reached out, your hand finding his, holding it tightly as if trying to anchor him to this moment. His fingers intertwined with yours, and for a brief second, you found solace in the connection, the warmth of his touch providing a bittersweet comfort.

Suguru leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if trying to imprint the memory of your skin on his own. His eyes met yours one last time, filled with an intensity that spoke of a deep and unspoken promise.

“Take care of yourself, doll.” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Live for me.”

You nodded, your eyes misting as you tried to hold back the tears. “I will. You too, Suguru. Be safe.

He kissed you one last time, a tender, lingering kiss that seemed to hold all the words left unspoken. His lips brushed against yours with a softness that belied the intensity of the emotions swirling between you. It was a kiss that conveyed both farewell and the depth of his feelings, a final, aching promise wrapped in the warmth of his touch.

As he pulled away, his eyes searched for yours, filled with a profound sadness that matched the heaviness in your heart. There was a moment where time seemed to stand still, where every second stretched into eternity. The look he gave you was a mixture of regret and deep affection, as if he were trying to imprint this final moment into his memory, to hold onto it even as he had to let go.

With a final, loving glance, he slowly rose from the bed, the movement reluctant and heavy. The contrast between the intimacy you had shared moments before and the distance growing between you now felt like a cruel irony. He began to dress, his actions slow and methodical, each movement a reminder of the separation that loomed ahead.

You watched him, feeling a hollow ache settle in your chest. The sight of him buttoning his shirt, pulling on his jacket, seemed to magnify the reality of his departure. Each piece of clothing he put on felt like a barrier, a wall being erected between you. The warmth of his touch was replaced by the cold distance of impending goodbye.

When he finally finished dressing, he paused by the door, turning back to you with one last, lingering look. His eyes were filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination, the kind of gaze that promised he would carry you with him, even as he walked away. The sight of him standing there, so close yet so far, was almost too much to bear.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then slowly walked toward the door. Each step he took felt like a betrayal to the moment you had shared, each creak of the floorboards a painful reminder of the separation. As he reached the door, he turned to look at you one last time, his expression a final plea for you to understand.

“Goodbye, doll.” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his emotions.

With those final words, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving you alone in the room that now felt unbearably empty. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the sound echoed in the silence that followed.

You sat there, feeling the overwhelming sense of loss, the weight of his absence pressing down on you. The room, once filled with the warmth of his presence, now felt cold and desolate. You reached out to the space he had occupied, your hand trembling as if trying to grasp at the remnants of his touch.

The tears finally came, streaming down your face in silent, aching sobs. The finality of his departure settled in, leaving you with the bittersweet memory of his touch, his kisses, and the love you had shared. As you buried your face in your hands, the pain of his absence was a stark reminder of the reality you had to face, the love that remained but was now out of reach.

You lay back down on the bed, the lingering warmth of his presence a bittersweet comfort. Yearning for what remained of him. The reality of his departure settled in, slowly. Tears kept falling and you couldn’t stop them. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was him. 

You cried until you were too tired to do it. And as you drifted back to sleep, you held onto the memory of his touch, his kisses, and the promise that, despite everything, he would always be a part of your heart. He would always be your ghost. He would always haunt you, even when you’re old and gray — he would always be more than a casual memory. He’d always be the one that got away. And you knew….you were his too.

[kirain]

I made a seven-day poll asking what everyone wanted me to write for a BG3 short story, but I don't think I have to wait to know "Gale summoning Tara" will win by a landslide. That said, I promise to also write a short for whichever theme comes in second, if people are still interested. In the meantime, I give you Gale summoning Tara!

Partly inspired by @ah-jiing's gorgeous art.

The boy clung to his mother's skirt, hiding behind her, his cheeks stained with tears. Elminster looked at him, then at the state of the house. An unconscious mephit lay withered in the corner, surrounded by scorch marks. The carpet; what was left of it, had taken the brunt of the damage, but the entire living room was trashed beyond repair—and it was perfect. The boy had potential if he could summon such a creature on his own, and with no formal training besides.

"Impressive," Elminster chuckled, scratching his beard. "Most university students struggle to summon mephits. It's not easy to pull them out of Eberron, especially if they don't want to leave."

"Impressive?!" the father yelled, causing the boy to flinch. "This is the fourth time his 'magic' has caused irreparable damage! No more!" He turned to his son, his eyes burning. "I never should've let your mother buy you those fanciful books. Later today, when I get home from work, I'm gathering every single one and tossing them in the ocean!"

The boy gasped, horrified. "No!"

"Don't you 'no' me." He raised his hand, threateningly. "I'm done paying for your mistakes. Every time you ruin something in this house, it costs me a bloody fortune! I ought to—!"

"That's enough, Alexis," the mother said, sternly. "I did far worse when I was in my teens. He's barely eight summers old. He just needs a mentor."

"No, Morena. He needs to stop. He needs a hobby. He needs friends!"

"That's what I was trying to do!" the boy cried. Elminster shifted as the parents fell silent. "I was trying ... I was trying to summon a tressym!"

"Not this again." The father sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance, as well as exhaustion. "I already told you, no pets! This house is already in shambles. We don't need an animal to add to it."

"Alexis, you're being unfair. You expect him to stay inside all day, learning about your trade, and then wonder why he doesn't have any friends."

"He doesn't have any friends because the other children around here are scared of him. Have you forgotten what he did to that girl?!"

The boy whimpered, the memory invading his thoughts. Once again, the parents fell silent, the mother giving her husband a disapproving glare. After a moment, she knelt down with a warm smile and ran her thumb across her son's cheek.

"Gale, sweetheart, go to your room for a bit. Can you do that for me?"

The boy hesitated, holding his mother's hand against his face, grateful for the comfort. His eyes twitched, then welled with tears. Elminster watched patiently, taking note of their bond. He could sense the mother's affinity for magic, but the father displayed no such talent. Rather, an obvious aversion to it. The realisation made him scoff. It was always a mystery to him, why one with knowledge of the arcane would settle for the most mundane of partners, but he held his tongue. He was there for one reason, and that reason was breaking down in front of him.

"Gale," the mother repeated. "It's alright, sweetheart." She pulled him into a merciful hug. "It's alright. I know you didn't mean it."

"I'm sorry..." he muttered, melting in her embrace. "I'm sorry, mommy. Please don't take my books away."

"Shh, we're not going to take your books away.

The father lurched forward. "Morena, I just said—!"

"We're not going to take your books away," she snapped. "Now please, go to your room. I'll bring you some lunch come noon."

The boy pulled away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He sniffed quietly, his jaw tense as he tried to compose himself. As he stepped around his mother, he leaned away from his father, but looked up at Elminster with a brief gaze of shame and curiosity. He had no idea who the old man was or why he was there, but he was too upset to ask. Instead, he dashed to his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Morena, I know you mean well, but you coddle that boy."

"I don't want to hear it, Alexis. He's your son, but you've made absolutely no attempt to share his interests."

"Maybe that's because I don't want to get my eyebrows singed off. I'm not like you. I can't just shield myself from his outbursts."

"They're not 'outbursts'. You act as though he's some kind of delinquent. I've never seen him use magic in a moment of anger, not even when the neighbourhood children push him around. Most of the time his spells are harmless, and you're wrong to focus so heavily on his mistakes."

"You're wrong to brush them aside. Mistakes like these get people killed! The housekeeper damn near pissed herself when she walked in on that ... that thing! I don't think she's coming back!"

"She overreacted. If she hadn't started screaming, the mephit wouldn't have panicked."

"The mephit?! Morena, she had every right to 'overreact'. Most people don't come face to face with fiends everyday!"

"It's not a fiend, Alexis, it's an elemental. Loyal to the one who summoned it." With a grunt, she snapped her fingers, and the motionless creature disappeared in a puff of smoke. "There. I've sent it home. No harm done."

"No harm—?" He stared at the now empty space, then groaned, defeated. "Morena, this is getting out of hand. I can't keep doing this. I-I can't support this. I have to put my foot down. No more books, no more magic."

"It's not a choice, Alexis. I've never seen a child with such keen aptitude for magic. It's like it's in his blood. Either we teach him how to harness it or it'll boil over."

"Don't. Don't even try it. I'm no fool, Morena. He's not a sorcerer. This isn't wild magic. It's not spilling out of him like a sieve. He can stop any time we choose to make him."

Elminster cleared his throat, loudly.

"Oh, yes. Forgive us," Morena sighed. "I had hoped to welcome you under ... merrier circumstances."

"Fear not." He waved his hand, jauntily. "This isn't the first mess I've walked in on when it comes to gifted children, and I doubt it will be the last."

"Gifted?" The father squeaked. "Gifted?!"

"Indeed. You'd admonish your son when you should be praising him. As I said earlier, most university students fail to summon a mephit." He turned his attention to the mother. "Did I hear you rightly? He's only eight?"

"Yes, and only just. By a few weeks."

"Incredible."

"I know," she giggled. "I could hardly believe it when the housekeeper came running to me about a 'winged beast' setting fire to the parlor."

"Have you both lost your senses?!" the father interjected. "Morena, who is this man?"

She caught her breath, pushing her pride for her son aside. "This is Elminster Aumar. Remember? I told you he'd be visiting us today. He wrote to me a tenday ago, asking about Gale. It seems word of our little wizard has reached beyond Waterdeep."

"Do not call him that!" The man hissed. "He's not a wizard, he's a boy. A normal boy. I told you, this ends today. No more books, no more spells, no more fiends or bats or whatever you want to call them. No more magic! He'll be an artisan like me and he'll like it. You just have to stop filling his head with nonsense." He pointed to Elminster. "And you—" He went to speak, his tone harsh, but he paused and collected himself, if only to save face. "I'm sorry you travelled all this way from ... wherever you're from, but I'm afraid your services are no longer needed."

"How dare you," Morena whispered, her voice low but laced with fury. "When you married me, you knew this was a possibility. We talked about it. You were fine with it."

"That was before he started tormenting little girls with necromancy!" He let out a long, winded breath. "Morena, this isn't right. You said it yourself, magic like this is beyond a child's comprehension. He shouldn't even be able to—!"

"If I may inquire?" Elminster asked, careful not to incense the father further. "I'm here because I know, better than most, how difficult it can be to raise a Weave-touched child. I can see the strain it's putting on you, and as a neutral party, I can attest you both make valid points. So please, tell me about the necromancy, and let's try to keep a level head. This is about your son, after all. About his future. If you'll accept it, I'm willing to share my expertise."

The parents exchanged glances, then looked away from each other, embarrassed. The father, without a word, walked away and leaned against the wall, his eyes falling to the cinders on the floor. Elminster could tell he was at his wits' end, but he felt very little sympathy. His desire to stifle such beautiful talent, to hold magic in such low regard—it was an affront to Mystra herself.

"He wasn't trying to 'torment' anyone," the mother chimed. "He was just trying to help."

"Tell me what happened."

"There's a girl who lives a few doors down from us. Loria. She had a songbird she kept in her room, but somehow it got out of its cage and flew into a window outside. As I'm sure you can imagine, the impact broke its neck. When Gale found her, she was weeping in the street, holding the poor thing in her hands. He only ... he only wanted to help. To make her feel better."

"Enough," Elminster said, sensing the woman's mouthing distress. "I understand."

"No you don't!" the father barked. "When he brought that thing back, its limbs twisted in every direction, squawking like it was in pain. He wounded that poor girl more than the bird's death ever could have."

"You're overlooking the fact that it was all well intentioned," Morena argued. "And magic like that is practically impossible for a child his age. It's a miracle he managed to reanimated it at all."

"That doesn't excuse it!"

"I didn't say it did! If we just teach him when and where it's acceptable to use magic, as well as how to perfect his skills—"

"Morena!"

"Magic is part of him!" she screeched, clenching her fists. "You need to accept that!"

"I'm afraid she's right," Elminster added. "Gale may not be a sorcerer, but the Weave has called to him. It has plans for him. Mystra has plans for him."

The father paled, his anger waning in an instant. "The goddess?"

"Yes. Taking his books, depriving him of proper study, it won't placate him. Magic flows through him like molten lava, and lava cannot be tamed. I know the toll this has taken on you, but your son is no mere boy. Not anymore."

"Is that so? Then what exactly is he?"

Elminster smiled. "A prodigy."

-----

Gale paced about his room, gripping his hair as his chest heaved. He couldn't figure out where he went wrong. He didn't mispronounce any of the words, and the mephit, though not what he intended to summon, was peaceful until the housekeeper tried to smack it with a broom.

In a fit of emotions, he dropped to the floor and buried his head in his knees, squeezing them tightly. He didn't want to be alone anymore, and he hated his father's cruelty, but maybe he was right. Images of Loria screaming over her bird flashed in his mind, the guilt overwhelming him. First her, then the housekeeper. He never wanted to hurt anyone, he only wanted a friend.

"Why didn't it work?" he sobbed, his nails digging into his trousers. "Is it me? Tressyms only come to the pure of heart, so maybe I'm just not..."

He wept, for a long time. When he lifted his head, his eyes were swollen and heavy, his mouth sore. With a sniffle, he wiped his nose, then looked to his dresser; to the small ornate jar sat on the far corner. Though he felt too numb to stand, he forced himself to his feet and retrieved it, and then he shook it back and forth, rattling the coins inside.

"That was mother's favourite carpet..." He popped the lid and poured the coins onto the dresser. "Not much, but better than nothing, I guess."

With a pained frown, he began separating each coin by value, counting what was there. It was the least he could do, he thought, to make up for his blunder. He truly loved magic, but he never wanted to hurt anyone with it; least of all the people who cared for him the most.

"One hundred and twenty," he said, mournfully. "That carpet ... cost seventeen times that." He gulped, staving off another rush of tears. "So much for our vacation to Neverwinter. Looks like I ruined that, too."

With one swift motion, he swept the coins back into the jar, then moved to take it to his mother, hoping it would make an apt apology. Before reaching the door; however, he gasped, his body freezing. His eyes widened, his back arching as he dropped the jar to the floor.

"Never ... winter?"

A sudden burst of clarity. Of inspiration. He ran to his bookshelf and grabbed a large, leather bestiary from the lineup. As big as his torso, he struggled to lift it, but dragged it to his bed with a determined limp, then dropped it on the mattress.

"That old man said mephits come from Eberron. So maybe ... maybe my spell was too expansive. I need to narrow it down."

For several minutes, he flipped through the pages, tracing the sentences with his finger. Finally, he came across the passage that answered his prayers, and he grinned.

Most tressyms hail from the warm, temperate lands of Faerûn, and are most commonly seen in northern Cormyr, particularly in the village of Eveningstar.

"This is it!"

With renewed vigor, he wrenched up the rug in the middle of his room, revealing a large casting circle painted on the floor; a seven-pointed star surrounded by glyphs. His excitement brimming, he grabbed a quill and wrote 'Neverwinter' in the northern triangle, then tossed it aside and positioned himself in the center. All the mayhem of that morning and the consequences it incurred seemed to fade as he took a deep, calming breath.

"I can do this. I can do this."

Slowly, he clapped his hands together, his mind fixated on what he wanted most. As the magic swirled inside him, ready to serve, his hair stood on end, but not out of fear. Exhilaration. He couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes and chanted the words, "Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao."

Immediately, the scent of rosewater filled the air, tickling his nose and tongue. It was sweet and welcoming, a sensation he'd grown to crave on an almost daily basis. It made him feel safe. Seen. As streams of azure and violet whirled around him, he lifted his hands above his head and faced the ceiling.

"Ang'alor ko malo fynndo Virr e'etu fem'molij!"

A gust of wind erupted through the room, so powerful it sent several objects flying through the air, but Gale held strong, his arms shaking as a mass of bright colours exploded from his fingertips. His arms shook, the deluge of dancing lights twisting from a shapeless husk into something more familiar. Then, he heard a soft mew in the distance, causing him to gasp. He'd opened a rift, and before long a small feather blew though and brushed against his cheek.

"My word!" a feminine voice echoed. "This is most irregular. Who is—?"

An abrupt and blinding flash, then a weight that nearly brought Gale to his knees. He winced, blinking rapidly to regain his senses—and when he did, his eyes fell upon the face of a cat, which he unknowingly cradled in his arms, her paws pushing against his chest. In that moment, words failed him, his mouth hanging open in a daze.

"I say, who are you?" the creature asked, her ears twitching.

She wasn't angry or frightened, merely confused, but a quick glance around her esoteric surroundings answered in kind. The room was teeming with books, knickknacks, and artefacts that only one type of person would keep, and she knew that type of person well. Stretching her wings, she shuffled in the boy's arms, making herself more comfortable.

"I see. A young wizard, are you?" She peered up at him, her bright eyes studying his face. "Hmm. Very young, it seems. Well then, that explains why you summoned me. You need a firm hand, yes? I'll warn you now, child, I expect you to take your studies seriously. I'll not abide laziness." She pulled back a bit, licking her paw. "And I trust I'll receive a steady intake of fish and pigeons? They're my favourite, I'll have you know. Well, after beholder, but I don't expect you to fetch something so dangerous on my behalf. In fact, I forbid it."

"I..." Gale's brow furrowed, his eyes gleaming.

"My name is Tara, by the bye. Perhaps I should've opened with that. Though you've neglected to tell me your name." She tilted her head, gesturing for a response, but the boy said nothing. "I see I have my work cut out for me. Manners, young man. Manners. So, what should I call you? Mister—?"

"I—I..."

"Yes? Speak clearly, dear. My hearing may be sharp, but mumbles are indecipherable, even for a tressym."

He couldn't contain his smile as he pulled the beast into a tight but careful hug, which was met with the faintest sound of purring.

"I did it!"

[thefringespod]

Its #AudioDramaSunday somewhere so we're going to do a late post!

Starting things off with episode 7.5 of @tellnotalespod where Leanne once again breaks my heart 💜 The way Leanne writes people talking about their queer experiences will always gut me, they're so wonderfully done

Up next, early release for @souloperatorpod episode 8. I sent @totcoc0a a 4.5 minute long voice message after that one. Do with that what you will

@camlannpod episode 7 did irreparable damage to me <3 I listened to it after having emotional damage dealt by TNT and SO which made it hurt 10 times worse. The reveal about Dai was *so* well done but also Ella Watts I'm shaking you (affectionate)

@woebegonepod episode 153 also did emotional damage to me. This was a great week for dealing emotional damage to Pine! 153 was one part fun and funny and one part me grasping at my chest going "Oh gods" over and over again. It was great! Easily in my top 10 eps

This week saw the triumphant return of @thesiltverses ! The twists and turns of this episode were phenomenal and I cannot believe how much it made me root for Shrue. Just 10/10 writing and Sarah Griffin went above and beyond with their performance

The Magnus Protocol also returned this week and gods was it something. The statement itself was absolutely enthralling but the plot bits outside the statement have been rattling in my brain. Mr. Bonzo has a license to kill. I will live in fear forever

@audistorium released a new episode on their patreon which was read by the incredible @madd-vo! I cant wait for public release so I can scream about it. Lemon wrote a 10 minute long episode that has wormed its way into my brain forever

Speaking of Lemon, he also made a heartfelt and tear inducing video which has been released on the Audistorium socials. I'm so lucky to get to know Lemon and to see this show he's building, he's so kind and the way he's building his community is incredible

Here on the Fringes, I have recorded the first draft of the Q&A! It was very long and rambley so I am going to be giving it a listen and then possibly recording some bits to be better answers, but expect that coming soon!

And over on @forgedbondspod we have 11 episodes left to write! I'm so excited to write this final arc of the show and share it with my cast. Speaking of my cast, I've gotten some more recordings in for the first half of the show and gods yall they're so fucking good

If you would like to support the Fringes and Forged Bonds and whatever else I make next, you can do so at patreon.com/PineTreePods! And if you have suggestions for content you would like to see on patreon, please let me know!

That's all for this week! I'm looking forward to what lies ahead and can't wait to share stuff with yall

[missallanea]

@anonymous : ✨✨

send ✨ and i'll recommend a multimuse blog

This is another kind of cheating answer, because if you're following me, you're almost undoubtedly following the phenomenal @nerdynanny. But I'm gonna take this opportunity to shower some love on them ANYway, because I adore Nerdy. They were so welcoming to me when I started writing on my multi more frequently, always quick to jump in or make silly connected dash commentary. I've been loving watching Morph and Silver and all their newer additions as well. They're just an all around wonderful person to have in your RP life, always there to make you smile.

Why, what is this?? An excuse to promote my darling husband?? How could I not take it? If you haven't realized it by now, myself and @stardustedstories are intrinsically linked, our souls irreparably bonded to one another. Or something like that. Whatever the case, Mal is the writer who made me a better writer, the person who always pushes me to work that little bit harder, go farther. They have such a wide variety of muses, from light-hearted cartoon Grunkles to child-eating titans, and everything in-between. Seriously, it's hard to only follow one of us. We're a bonded pair, you can't separate us !!

time for some positivity !!

[streetkid-named-desire]

🐺- What animal do they most remind you of? for vg and bea

⚖️- Are they a good person? for rat about vg

⚖️- Are they a good person? for bea and honey

🧠- What's your best memory with them? Worst? for vg about vs

🐺

V: Uh...real or fictional?

Bea: What do you mean fictional???

V: Uh a praying mantis?

Bea: It's just a myth that they eat the heads of their mates actually.

V: No, the myth is the frequency. They do it, just less often than thought.

Bea: ...fair. Hmmm, for you? A dybbuk.

V: WHAT?! That's not an animal.

Bea: Hear me out, they're disembodied souls that, due to their sins when alive, are condemned to roam the earth until they find the body of a living person.

<Johnny: I'm not a fuckin dybbuk.>

⚖️

Rat: I'll answer with a question. Who the fuck abandons the love of their life before they undergo major surgery?

V: Oh come on! I was stupid and afraid and it had nothing to do with you getting top surgery. I have never cared about gender once in my fucking life.

Rat: You...did you really think I was upset because I thought you were transphobic?

V: Is that...not it?

Rat: I HAD TO TAKE A FUCKING DELEMAIN HOME FROM THE RIPPER ASSHOLE.

V: Okay, fine. But you're no fucking saint either. Who spiked all the active wreaths of that BD Shack with a virus leading to 5 deaths and 10 irreparable neurological injuries?

Rat: I WAS 14!

⚖️

Bea: Honey is a fucking angel.

Honey: And you're the devil.

Bea: That's why we're best friends!

🧠

V: Best? The time we were chatting on WhysApp when we worked at this old techie and runner shop. We'd end up on the NCART together when our stops intersected and would sit next to each other. Now, we'd met through the net and had been chatting for a couple years now. So, I watched her take a pic of this hole in her jeans and send it to me. I don't even remember what the fucking message said. What I remember is the look on her face when I replied "look next to you" and we put a face to the names vip3r and w33v1l.

Worst? Fuck.

<Can I tell them?>

<Johnny: I'm over it, go ahead.>

<You're not over it.>

<I'm so over it.>

<You're really not.>

I can't tell you the worst one. It's still too raw. But the second worst memory is when she took the fall for a scam gone wrong and went to prison in ATL for me. Jackie and I grew up together, we'd always been tight. But there's nothing like the bond you establish when you just meet through the net. No real stakes just being authentically you because if someone hates you? Fuck 'em, block and move on with your life, right?

So, I told her shit I could have never told Jackie. And when she was gone? Well, I tried opening up to Jackie once and it didn't go well. There I am, crying my eyes out about some input dumping me and Jackie says he has a date with Misty and can't stick around for too long. Pinche coño. Turns out he's just uncomfortable with emotions but he's working on it with Misty.

Still hurt tho.

[reginrokkr]

As you may have guessed, I had a field day the moment 「Bedtime story」 was released and as it's not so surprising of me, there is a whole lot I want to discuss about this AQ. This will be dumped under cut to hold onto the discretionary phase of the recent release of the 4.7 patch:

◜There's still hope for the two of you to reconcile. Irreparable damage has not yet been done. The Sinner you wish to know about... His situation is different. [...] His name is Vedrfolnir, "The Visionary." I'm loath to admit it, but... He is also my kin. My older brother.◞

𝐂𝐋𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈. Finding out that not only Vedrfolnir turns out to be Dain's older brother, that he's in fact the Sinner from 「Caribert」 is very telling for a few important reasons. Number one is the fact that people who know Chinese have been saying that the description of the previous AQ that counted with Dain's participation contained a wording used for the author of Dain's introduction —a self-proclaimed prophet, or someone who knows about fate—. It gets particularly meaningful if we're to break it down now that we have this knowledge:

The confluence between the past and future. The original calamity had been overturned, yet the island in the sky set the earth to burn. Chalk pursues gold, in this time inopportune, the eclipse is swallowed by the crimson moon. The future must atone for bygone mistakes, as the bond familiar falters and breaks— of the same blood, elders and the youth... Such is the cycle of the world, in truth. Dain, what is that strand of blonde hair to you? Someone you must kill? Or the object of your penitence?

✧ If we look at the first two couple of sentences, it makes more sense that the one talking is someone who actually knows about what is happening with the world, but also with Khaenri'ah. What I want to focus on is the next line talking about the future atoning for bygone mistakes but even more interestingly yet, about the bond familiar breaking. This could be a reference of what happened between Dain and Vedrfolnir as the latter apparently betrayed the former. But we then have the last line interpellating Dain directly. People have been theorizing that this had to be about Lumine, others about another character we yet don't know or maybe we do that has a meaningful relationship with Dain— but with the new discovery of Dain having an older brother, and if he happens to have blond hair too, then it falls right in place if this is Vedrfolnir asking his brother about what he means to him. And, seeing Dain's wavering voice when calling out for Lumine when she claims that he's her enemy and his hesitation to even rise his sword at her even though it was his plan all along to make her fall in his trap, we know that even if he were to feel strongly in a negative way for another, that he's just as kind if not more— to the point that it impedes him to go through with his plans.

◜[...] He and his fellow sinners have long betrayed me, and long betrayed their nation. [...] "The Wise" Hroptatyr, "The Visionary" Vedrfolnir, "Gold" Rhinedottir, "The Foul" Surtalogi, and "Rächer of Solnari" Rerir. [...] They were once people of great esteem in Khaenri'ah, those who carried the hopes of the nation. They were the best of their peers, outstanding in their respective fields... The six of us, together... We should have been the ones to prevent the disaster, the ones to stop the Vinster King from continuing to rock the foundation of the world. Yet, deep within, the five of them craved something more. They could not resist the call of the Abyss, and divided among themselves a power that could destroy the world. So they became Sinners, but also transcendent beings, each in possession of world-shattering power. And when the cataclysm occurred, not one of them stood up in defense of their nation, not one came forward to prevent the tragedy... And for that, they shall never have my forgiveness.◞

✦ It's very interesting that, while he alongside the other five were supposed to stop the Vinster King from rocking the foundation of the world (I'll get to this later), he doesn't count himself among them. This could be because he doesn't want to put himself on the same level as them in terms of considering himself a sinner —and perhaps this is one of the things that must hurt him the most about what happened in Khaenri'ah in a personal level, to be branded as a sinner when in reality he... was looking for the good of not only the kingdom, but that of the world as well— and maybe even that he doesn't think of himself as grand as the others are. However, at the same time he must be at the same level as them in terms of having something great to offer in order to even prevent the cataclysm or stand in defense of Khaenri'ah by possibly fighting either the abyssal monsters, the gods or both. Not only that, but they must've held Dain to some level of importance as well in order for him to talk about betrayal. Because what would they care about betraying a no-one if he were one?

It's also worth noting that it is very possible that if he wanted to, he could've accepted the power of the Abyss within him and become one more of them, a transcendent being and all. But not only he didn't (and most likely the reason why the five of them didn't take him in consideration any longer), he's actively fighting it despite the corruption of half of his body and he's using a "power from beyond" that as per Skirk's words, that deserves its respect and merit. This power, as we've seen from his own uses and the small details here and there that could be a nod towards this same power as well, is in direct opposition to that of the Abyss. Moreover, Dain describes this power as a power that can defy this world [Teyvat]. So then, we have a world-shattering power [Abyss] and then a power that can defy this world [whatever Dain is using, which I'll get to later].

All in all, it's fascinating to me the sense of duty and responsibility he has for a world that he doesn't agree with due to the gods, but also love for a kingdom that he doesn't agree with either but would face the gods for because no matter how enshrouded in darkness it was, there were still innocent people who wanted nothing to do with the obsessions with the Abyss and just wanted to live a life outside the gods' gaze. And that despite arguably the world [more like the gods, but I believe it's a fair metaphor to use gods and the world given the influence the former have on the latter] betrayed him too, he's still fighting for it, its safety and its people.

✧ Next I'd like to mention Dain's not only sentience for the Ley Lines to the point where he can feel when his memory is toyed with or that there is a disruption within them, but how deeply he's intertwined to the point of actually being in pain because of it. This is important to keep in mind as it may be linked with the power Dain uses, not just because some of the characteristics that are explained in René's investigation of the Khvarena vs the Abyss, but arguably identical visuals if we're to look at the trail that Caribert's last piece of consciousness leaves behind and his power:

If the last trace of consciousness is meant to be considered as a soul, we know that Ley Lines not only carry the memories of Teyvat or the seven elements to sustain it, but souls as well. So whatever Dain's power is supposed to be in the future, I'm more confident to say that it may be linked to Irminsul and, granted that it's from "beyond this world" and if HYV wants to give a nudge towards other titles of their universe, maybe related to the Imaginary Tree, even. Because as it stands, what we saw so far about Dain's power is the manipulation of reality (taking for example the eye of the first Field Tiller and that he was able to remove it from the automaton without damaging neither the eye or the robotic case, same goes for a reasonable explanation of why Dain's been keeping the eye inside his body; he can also seize telepathically an Abyss Herald; manipulate his speed...) and outright collision with the abyssal power by negating it completely.

This is it for the small study of 「Bedtime story」 for now in regards of Dain and while I'd like to be more direct with what I want to do with his background, I'll share a couple of things that I'm still mulling for a more extended post.

✦ Given that Gold is stated to be the creator of the abyssal wolves and it's also said in 「Perinheri」 that they were actually a thing during the Crimson Moon dynasty, as there was a part of the knights that tamed them, it's safe to presume that this manner of transcendence started all the way back then. It's also possible that it happened at different timeframes, as this concerns other five four individuals, but I'm tempted to make Dain be as ancient too in his own manner of transcendence that isn't connected to the Abyss, but to Irminsul. Which is somehow ironic because so far, those stated to be prophets / saints or have some manner of visions of the future are linked to Irminsul one way or another. This same logic could, perhaps, apply to Vedrfolnir before he gave in to the Abyss.

✧ I want to continue with the main point of this blog, which was the premise of Dain being the second heir of the Gnostic Chorus (and Light Prince of 「Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies」 while the first heiress was Asmoday, also known as the Unknown God. Having an older brother doesn't erase the possibility of perhaps having others too, so based on recent thoughts about the direction I want to have with Dain, I've decided that I'll establish a sygyzy between Dain and Asmoday, where the latter is demonic whereas the former will act as the counterpart as per the Shem HaMephorash, a group of angelic opposites to the demons of the Ars Goetia. In his case, he'd have another name in a similar fashion as gods have an alternative demon name, being Vasariah —also known as archangel Zadkiel—. As established before in this blog, his life in Celestia is wiped from his memories the moment he descends to Khaenri'ah. Furthermore, as it's leaked in the continuation of the books of 「Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies」, I'd find it heavily poetic that he gets to be the one to get rid of the Abyss after all the harm it's done to Teyvat, but also to himself in a personal and familial way.

[blossombriefs]

Legendary | Chapter Eighteen

The journey to Earth was long, but the anticipation kept our spirits high. Each day brought us closer to reuniting with my family and starting a new chapter of our lives. Broly and I had grown even closer during the voyage, and our bond was stronger than ever. However, as we neared our destination, a sense of unease began to creep in.

It was a stormy night when we finally entered Earth's atmosphere. The ship's navigation system alerted us to the rough weather ahead, and I could see the worry etched on Broly's face as he watched me at the controls. The rain lashed against the ship's hull, and lightning illuminated the dark clouds that enveloped us.

"We're almost there," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing turbulence. I aimed to ease my nerves as well as Broly's.

Broly nodded, his eyes filled with concern. "Hang on, Flora. It's going to be a rough landing."

The ship shook violently as we descended, and I clung to the controls, my heart pounding in my chest. The lights flickered, and I could hear the engines straining against the storm. Just as we were about to break through the clouds, a bolt of lightning struck the ship, sending us into a spiral.

"Broly!" I screamed, panic rising in my throat.

"I'm right here!" he shouted back, gripping the edge of his seat. "You can do this! It'll be okay!"

The ground rushed up to meet us, and I focused on the controls, trying to stabilize our descent. The crash was violent, the sound of metal tearing and the jolt of the impact knocking the wind out of me. When the world finally stopped spinning, I opened my eyes to find us on the clearing before a cliff, the rain pouring down around us.

"Flora, are you okay?" Broly's voice was filled with concern as he unbuckled his harness and hurried to my side. My hands gripped the wheel, almost as if it was glued to it.

"I'm fine," I said, though my voice trembled. "Just a bit shaken."

He helped me out of my seat, and we stumbled out of the wrecked ship into the pouring rain. The cold water soaked through my clothes instantly, and I shivered, feeling a wave of despair wash over me as I looked at the ruined vessel. One of the wings was torn completely off the body, it was nowhere to be seen. The windows on the side were smashed, the glass irreparable. I could feel my breathing pick up to a panicked pace.

"We made it to Earth," Broly said, trying to sound optimistic despite the situation. I started shaking my head, looking around the unfamiliar surroundings.

"But the ship... it's destroyed," I said, my voice breaking. "How are we going to find my family now?"

"I know!" Broly lifted his finger to the air as visibly, an idea had come to him. He climbed back into the ship and came out holding my duffle bag high in the air. I breathed heavily as I looked up, trying to make sight of what I could through the battering rain.

"Broly what-" He reached into the side pocket and I quickly realised what he was doing. "Wait no!"

Pulling out the parchment, he held it out to me with a smile. "We still have the-"

The rain, however, had other plans. As soon as the parchment was exposed, the water soaked through it, causing the ink to run and the paper to tear. I watched in horror as the coordinates, our only link to my family disintegrated in his hands.

"No! No, no, no!" I cried, grabbing at the ruined parchment, but it was too late. The information was lost. I sank to my knees in the mud, tears mixing with the rain on my face. "It's all gone. What are we going to do now?"

Broly knew it beside me, his strong hands gripping my shoulders to try and comfort me. I buried my head deep into my arms as he spoke into my ear. "Flora, we'll figure it out. We always do. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I messed up."

"But how?" I sobbed, the weight of the journey, the crash, and now the loss of the coordinates crashing down on me. "I was so close. I was so close to seeing my family again."

I could feel his gaze glued onto me, filled with determination. "Flora, look at me."

I met his eyes, and in that moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The storm, the wreckage, the despair—all of it was distant compared to the connection I felt with him.

"We'll find your family," he said softly. "I promise you."

I wanted to believe him, but the enormity of our situation still felt overwhelming. My tears continued to flow, mingling with the rain that pelted us relentlessly. Broly's expression softened, and he closed the distance between us, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold rain.

He reached out and gently cupped my face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. His thumbs brushed away the tears on my cheeks. I looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, the fierce determination and the compassion that had been a constant source of strength throughout our journey.

Without a word, Broly leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was tender and full of reassurance, a promise of his unwavering support and love. It was as if he was trying to convey through that single touch everything he felt and believed—that we could overcome this together. I hesitated for a moment, but then my heart responded, and I kissed him back, letting the emotion of the moment wash over me. The storm raged on around us, but within that brief, intimate embrace, the world felt a little less chaotic. The kiss lingered for a heartbeat longer, a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathless, the rain continuing to drench us. Broly's gaze was steady, his hold on me firm but gentle.

"We'll find another way," he said firmly. "We won't give up. Not now, not ever."

As the storm continued to rage, Broly and I stood together, united in our resolve. The ship was in ruins, and the coordinates were lost. It seemed hopeless. I wanted to stay as optimistic as he was but if I was honest, I struggled to. I was hoping we'd find a way. There just had to be a way.

"Hey! You two!" We heard someone suddenly scream out from behind us. I wiped my eyes and looked up from behind Broly to see a figure in the distance. It looked like one of the planet's inhabitants. I squinted, then looked at the spaceship, thinking to myself it would come as a shock. Broly stood at the ready in case they proved to be a threat.

"Can you hear me?! Yoo-hoo!" the voice called again, closer this time. Through the rain, I could make out a woman approaching us, her blue hair unmistakable even in the downpour.

"Stay here," Broly said, stepping forward protectively. I nodded, though curiosity compelled me to stand and peer over his shoulder.

As the woman drew nearer, I could see she was carrying an umbrella, which offered little protection against the fierce storm. Her determined stride suggested she was no stranger to challenging situations.

"Are you two okay?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. "I saw the crash coming on my radar and rushed straight over! That was quite a landing!"

As she finally approached she stopped in her steps. She glanced at the damaged wreckage for only a split second before her eyes locked on me. I looked back at her, feeling my face give her no expression in return. She gasped, dropping her umbrella in shock but I was quick to catch it for her.

"No way..." she whispered to herself. "I think I have someone you need to meet..."

Next Chapter Chapter List

[aitapokemon]

AITA for letting my Mismagius curse a trainer that previously abandoned another member of my team? Long story short, this Mismagius and Misdreavus were bonded before I encountered them, so they have a very deep connection. The Misdreavus had been abandoned by her first trainer at Arc-danged level 8. It devastated her. So imagine our surprise when we're gearing up for a contest and we run across the same trainer that abandoned her. (We kicked her tail in the contest, by the way. It's my most treasured ribbon.) But afterwards I gave the trainer a stern talking-to and she seemed genuinely remorseful, and she seemed to care that the Pokemon she'd abandoned was doing better in my care than she had in hers, so I... well, I don't really forgive her so much as I told her never to do it again and she SEEMED to get the picture, so I considered our job done. This Mismagius, on the other hand, is not so forgiving. So she definitely cursed her. I don't really blame her and I didn't really //try// to stop her, but I also know that she's not malicious and wouldn't curse her badly enough for her to actually be hurt. Not irreparably, anyways. She probably had bad luck for awhile after though. So uhh, AITA?

NTA but only because trying to stop your mismagius wouldn't have worked anyway. Normally I'd think you were an irresponsible trainer for letting your pokemon attack someone, and if this were like, a houndour biting someone they didn't like then yes you shoud've trained it better and it shouldn't be out of its pokeball if its a danger to people. But mismagius is vengeful by nature. It's impossible to train that out of it, and yes it's an assumed risk the trainer must take (so if she takes legal action you'll be on the hook), but if the mismagius wants to curse it's gonna curse so you're not really morally liable imho.

Also kinda telling that she apologized to you and not the pokemon she mistreated. How sorry can she really be? Mismagius tend to sense that kinda thing.

[thestalwartheart]

What do we think of the theory that Q is Vesper’s younger brother and that he was recruited by MI6 shortly after her death? I’ve seen a few fics play around with this (none that I can name off the top of my head unfortunately because I suck at remembering fic names and always forget to bookmark things 😭)

It’s Meta Monday!

omg I remember reading one specific fic that addressed this idea and it tore my heart out. I can't remember what it was called, but I'm sure someone will come to our rescue!

I feel like it's one of those ideas where if it happened in canon, I'd scoff and roll my eyes at it being too much of a coincidence (as I did with Blofeld and the foster brother storyline 🙄), but in fanon I'm all for exploring it! The angst potential is absolutely exquisite. Does Bond know upfront? Does Q hide it from him? If so, when Bond finds out, does he absolutely lose his shit? This is the one situation I can see where Q does actually manage to irreparably damage Bond's trust in him. Also, if we're in a 00Q story, can Bond ever really know it's just Q he feels attracted to, or is he just chasing ghosts?

Ack! So painful and beautiful, all of it.

What does everyone else think of it?

[cookinguptales]

I'd love a reading 🐈 Thank you so much!

No problem! 🐕

(Two of Cups (reversed), Four of Swords, Eight of Swords)

Weird how we keep getting reversed-upright-upright. I promise I'm shuffling well. lmao

This is another reading that gives me pause. (Boy, we're just... having a time tonight, aren't we?) Again, it's largely negative but not without hope.

This reading gives me the impression that you're having a really rough time right now, anon, and I'm sorry to hear that.

The Two of Cups is usually a card about a good partnership between two people, but reversed... well, not so much. This is a card of tension and distance, and often speaks to a breakup of some kind -- romantic or otherwise. You may be fighting with someone that you love and trust, or you may simply be drifting apart. Or, and this is kind of my hunch here, this may be talking about a difficult time that already happened. There is a past relationship that you're really struggling to move on from, and that's causing you a lot of emotional distress.

Why do I suspect this is a past issue? Well, because of the next card. The Four of Swords is a card that tends to show up after something bad has happened. You may be out of the woods, you may not be, but this is a card that cautions you to rest. Regroup. Restore yourself. Start to let go of the painful things that have happened and begin the process of healing.

Finally, we have the Eight of Swords. This is a sword that generally indicates that you feel trapped. You may not see a way out of the conflict and grief that's surrounding you, and you feel like the world is closing in on you. That your options are beyond your reach. But... the keyword with the Eight of Swords is "feel". You feel trapped. But you aren't. It's a cage that exists only in your own mind, and your helplessness is a mirage.

When I put both of these Swords cards together, it tells me that you very much feel stuck now, and it's largely because of the traumatic things you've gone through in the past. And -- I mean, it's good to take time. It's good to rest. But part of rest is gathering that energy to eventually use it. Take this time to reflect on your situation, both back then and now, and use all that gathered energy to break out of the cage that you've created for yourself. You are not helpless. You have a well of inner strength that has been slowly refilling itself, and the future holds hope that soon you'll be able to use it.

Have faith in yourself, anon -- I do! I know that life can throw horrible things at you, and the dissolution of a strong relationship can hurt so badly. But you're not helpless, you're not irreparable, and I believe that you're building the strength to heal from this and break out of the bonds of grief to go back out into the world.

It's time to try again, don't you think?

[liminevator]

Phenomena #2

Phenomena #2, also reffered to as "The Brotherly Bond Fallacy" is a unique occurrence in The Outer Bounds currently only known to affect two denizens, ID #0001 and ID #0002. While they aren't related biologically, testimony from both parties confirms that they grew up together in an orphanage in █████, ██ and fully consider themselves brothers regardless.

Where things get strange though, is that despite all possible efforts the two have been completely unable to contact eachother ever since they both entered the Liminevator in ████, almost as if The Outer Bounds and the Liminevator are somehow keeping them apart on purpose for still unknown reasons, in fact, as of writing this it's strongly beleived that #0001 isn't even aware that #0002 is here at all.

[Start of phenomena example logs]

Example #1

#0002 Enters the elevator, and in a fit of desperation, gets on his knees to start begging through tears for the elevator to take him to his brother. The PA systems could be heard turning on, but nothing was said in response, and turned back off before taking #0002 right back to the floor he came from. The elevator stayed put for roughly 20 minutes until #0002 finally gave up and left, it resumed perfectly normal operations after this

--

Example #2

#0002 attempted to use #0325 as a middleman between the two, but upon being sent off with a copy of a letter intended for #0001, the elevator immediately dropped him off at floor 099 where he perished in the giant acid pit, and lost the letter in the process.

--

Example #3

#0325 recalls attempting to bring up the whereabouts #0002 in a casual conversation with #0001 without even thinking about it, but was unable to because he suddenly experienced total collapse of both lungs, and despite #0001's immediate efforts he died of asphyxia not long after. #0325 later described the sensation as feeling like he had suddenly been hit in the chest with a battering ram, and while #0324 isn't exactly in the best health, he has no prior medical issues that could've caused something like this so suddenly.

--

Example #4

In an attempt to better understand this phenomena and try to one day work around it, #0002 himself has attempted to access these testing logs many of times. However every time this has happened it has caused a multitude of issues, including causing the data to corrupt irreparably, and once even caused the shut down all of The Archive's power for a full day. Please god do not let him keep doing this, I know he starts crying, and yes I hate it too, but please. For all we know the next time it might cause us to lose more than just this file and these take a long time to write.

--

Example #5

It was discovered recently that it's perfectly safe to discuss #0001 or #0002 with one another if either they bring it up first or if it's discussing their past together prior to entering The Liminevator. It's very possible that, as long as we're careful with how we do it, this could possibly be the lead we can work with to find a loophole and reunite the two.

--

Example #6

#0002 managed to get his hands on the floor key for Floor 010 after #0001 left it behind in the elevator, however when he attempted to use it, the key snapped clean off in the keyhole and proceeded to crumble away into dust in his hands. This is the only known case of a floor key ever doing this, which is especially concerning as our previous understanding led us to believe they were indestructible before this. (According to #0004, while at the front desk he saw that a copy of the key returned itself to the lobby some time later, #0002 was called and retrieved it and now keeps it in his office desk)

[End of phenomena example log]

[anniesjourney]

The Painful Echo of Lost Love

Love, they say, is the most powerful force in the universe. It lifts us, inspires us, and gives our lives meaning. But when love is lost, it leaves behind a void so deep that it feels impossible to fill.

Losing love is like watching a beautiful sunset disappear behind dark clouds. The vibrant colors of passion, joy, and connection fade into a cold, gray twilight. The person who once made your heart race, whose presence brought warmth to your life, is suddenly gone, leaving an emptiness that echoes through every moment.

In the beginning, love feels eternal. Every glance, every touch, every shared laugh seems to cement the bond between two people. We build our lives around this connection, intertwining our hopes, dreams, and even our identities with the person we love. We imagine a future together, filled with shared experiences and a deep, unbreakable bond.

But when love is lost, that imagined future crumbles. The plans you made, the dreams you shared, all seem like shattered glass—irreparable, sharp, and painful to touch. The person who once filled your days with light is now a ghost, haunting your thoughts and memories.

The hardest part about losing love is not just the absence of the person, but the absence of who you were with them. Love has a way of bringing out the best in us, and when it's gone, we're left questioning who we are without it. The loneliness that follows is not just about being alone; it's about feeling like a part of you is missing.

Time, they say, heals all wounds. But the wound of lost love doesn't just heal—it leaves a scar. It's a reminder of what was, and what could have been. We move forward, but we're never quite the same. We carry the lessons learned, the pain felt, and the bittersweet memories of a love that once was.

In the end, losing love teaches us about the fragility of life and the impermanence of even the most beautiful things. It reminds us that nothing is guaranteed, and that the things we hold dear can slip away in an instant. But it also teaches us to cherish love when we have it, to hold onto it tightly, and to never take it for granted.

Because love, even when lost, is worth every moment of joy, every tear shed, and every heartache endured.

[stupidcanofpeaches]

currently on ep6 of s3 of tua and i gotta say, i do wish we got more scenes characterizing the sparrows. like overall there are some pretty fun parallels between them and the umbrellas and the characters are quite fun to watch. alphonso and jayme seem to have an interesting dynamic between them, always hanging out together, and even in the past scene we're shown that alphonse is probably the most worried for her during her sparring match with ben - that proud look he gets on his face when she kicks the bell? that's real nice.

also from what im seeing this is scene from before ben was demoted? there's no scar on his face and marcus seems to hang back more compared to his first episodes when he's their official leader and number one. alphonso has far less scarring and melted flesh as well, which in turn makes me wonder if his current appearance is the result of ben's fuck up which led to him being pushed down to number two? he does appear really cocky and ready to resort to no holds barred violence during the spar, not to mention the way he storms out in what is basically a temper tantrum after the match. i do wonder how come he ended up like this in the sparrow timeline, especially compared to his original iteration from the main timeline. a higher position on the feeding chain and more competetive environment coupled with less interpersonal bonds with his siblings im guessing?

bc like, speaking of parallels between the two families, while sparrows do appear more united as a front, it seems very much. not that personal except for maybe alphonso and jayme who seem to be hanging out together during most of their scenes. like coworkers you like a lot but not to the point where you love them? while the umbrellas are at each others throats more often than not but are really ride or die for each other when the push comes to shove. i have an inkling that the whole thing with ben wanting to avenge jayme and alphonso's death is more about his injured pride and getting to be the top dog again rather than genuine upset and grief. but hell, maybe i'm wrong! maybe we'll see more of it in s4.

also All Walls Fall by I_Logophile has altered my brain chemistry irreparably and i was mildly disappointed that christopher does not talk in a little kid voice and that we do not have any sort of explanation or backstory for him.

and Also going off reginald's attitude and how they immediately listened to him, this is before they started drugging him.

[bestsmilesnorthsiderichmond]

Is Your Tooth Too Damaged to Save?

Your smile is one of your most precious assets, but what happens when a tooth becomes severely damaged? From accidents to decay, various factors can compromise the integrity of your teeth. While modern dentistry offers numerous solutions for restoring damaged teeth, there are instances where saving a tooth might not be feasible. In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into the factors that determine whether a tooth is salvageable or if it's time to consider alternative options. Join us as we explore the world of dental restoration and uncover the best path to preserving your radiant smile.

Assessing Tooth Damage:

The first step in determining the fate of a damaged tooth is understanding the extent of the injury. Minor chips or cracks can often be repaired with simple procedures such as dental bonding or veneers. However, more severe damage, such as deep fractures or extensive decay, may require more advanced treatment.

Signs of Irreparable Damage:

Pain and Sensitivity: Persistent pain or sensitivity, especially when biting or chewing, could indicate nerve damage or infection within the tooth.

Visible Decay: When decay has progressed to the point where a significant portion of the tooth structure is compromised, saving the tooth may no longer be viable.

Loose Teeth: Trauma or advanced periodontal disease can cause a tooth to become loose in its socket, indicating severe damage to the surrounding tissues.

Abscess Formation: An abscess, characterized by swelling, pus, and intense pain, often indicates a severe infection that may necessitate tooth extraction.

Restoration Options:

Fortunately, modern dentistry offers an array of restoration options for damaged teeth. Depending on the extent of the damage and the patient's specific needs, a dentist may recommend one of the following treatments:

Dental Crowns: Crowns are custom-made caps that cover the entire visible portion of a tooth, restoring its strength, shape, and appearance.

Root Canal Therapy: This procedure involves removing infected or damaged tissue from within the tooth, cleaning the root canals, and sealing them to prevent further infection.

Dental Implants: In cases where a tooth cannot be saved, dental implants offer a durable and natural-looking replacement. Implants consist of a titanium post that is surgically placed into the jawbone, topped with a lifelike crown.

Making Informed Decisions:

When faced with a damaged tooth, it's essential to weigh the benefits and risks of each treatment option. Factors such as the overall health of the tooth, the patient's oral hygiene habits, and financial considerations should all be taken into account. Consulting with a trusted dentist is the first step toward determining the most appropriate course of action for preserving your smile.

In conclusion, while tooth damage can be a cause for concern, it's not necessarily the end of your smile. By promptly addressing issues and seeking professional dental care, many damaged teeth can be successfully restored, allowing you to enjoy a healthy and confident smile once again. If you're experiencing tooth pain or suspect that a tooth may be too damaged to save, don't hesitate to reach out to our team of dentists in Richmond. We're here to help you navigate your options and find the best solution for your unique needs. Your smile is our priority, and we're committed to helping you achieve optimal oral health and wellbeing.

[explorya88]

**Warning: Content Advisory**

This fanfic contains sensitive and serious themes that may be difficult for some readers. If you are uncomfortable with topics such as [Violence, moral questionable behaviors, explicit contents and many others], it's advisable to reconsider reading further. Your well-being is important to me, and i encourage you to prioritize your emotional health. Take care, and thank you for understanding.

This short tale is placed one month before the interlude.

Seer Assassin: Aion the weaver of destiny.

Twenty seven days ago...

Fang: You all claim to be protectors, friends, and righteous souls, but look at yourselves in the mirror! Just as Yvette accused you of being, you're nothing but hypocrites, self-righteous, and mighty fools. You turned against Darius without hesitation, just because of the demon issue. It's as if you've always secretly hated him. I'm quite surprised that you didn't kill him in his sleep!

Nahara's heart sank as she recalled Fang's words echoed in her mind, feeling the weight of betrayal and hurt. She questioned whether Darius harbored similar feelings towards her, because you know she is supposed to be his friend and confidante. The depth of the rift among them left her grappling with the aftermath of their choices but before Nahara can mull over it, Wrath enter in the room and tell her that the council of seers are waiting her.

Wrath: Nahara, the council of seers awaits you. They seek your guidance on a matter of utmost importance.

Nahara, still grappling with the recent turmoil, nodded silently and followed Wrath, as Nahara entered the chamber of the council of seers, the air seemed heavy with anticipation. The wise figures, cloaked in mystical attire, turned their ancient eyes toward her.

Seer 1: Nahara, we sense turmoil within you. What troubles your spirit?

Nahara hesitated, the conflict within her evident.

Nahara: I failed my duty as seer assassin. The unity we once shared is shattered. Darius, accused and isolated, may harbor resentment, Fang hate us saying we're no better than the demons we fight. Do our actions align with the path of balance?

Seer 2: In the tapestry of destiny, threads may fray, but the pattern endures. Your choices ripple through the fabric. The bonds you forge or break shape the future.

Nahara, seeking clarity, implored them.

Nahara: Guide me. Show me the path to mend what's broken, or reveal if it's irreparable. Stop being so vague!

The seers exchanged solemn glances, their insights merging like streams of wisdom.

Seer 3: You'll do the right choices as always Nahara.

With a nod, Nahara left the council chamber, determination in her eyes. The journey ahead was uncertain but the destiny of bonds torn and friendships strained lay in her hands, as Nahara grappled with the council's guidance, Onyx seizing the opportunity, surreptitiously placed the seed of Divashma in her tea, a malevolent glint in her eyes.

Onyx: Let the seed of Divashma take root, and watch as the shackles of regret and morality crumble. Soon, she shall be free to embrace the power within.

The sinister aura of seed of Divashma's influence permeated the room, intertwining with the tendrils of darkness that clung to Onyx and the now Dark Sin Assassins, the consequences of this clandestine act would soon unfold, altering the course of Nahara's fate, Nahara and Wrath reentered the room, finding Onyx with a deceptively innocent smile.

Onyx: Nahara, dear, I thought a cup of tea might soothe your troubled spirit. It's a blend I crafted for moments like these.

Nahara, grateful for the gesture, accepted the tea, unaware of the malevolence hidden within. As she sipped, Onyx and Wrath shared a sinister camaraderie, their thoughts intertwining in a twisted dance of anticipation.

Onyx (thoughts echoed in Wrath's mind): Soon, she'll cast away the burdens of conscience, joining us by embrace her desires.

The room held an eerie tension as the trio remained oblivious to the brewing storm that would soon engulf Nahara's soul, A surge of forbidden desires coursed through Nahara's veins as the chains of restraint shattered within her. The tea, laced with seed of Divashma's influence, unleashed a torrent of newfound freedom, her once morally anchored soul now danced on the edge of unrestrained impulse, Nahara's eyes flickered, a wild glint replacing the usual calm, the room, once a sanctuary, now seemed to echo with the whispers of untamed impulses, and the weight of consequences began to wane in the face of newfound liberation. In the quiet recesses of Wrath's mind, a malevolent chuckle resonated as she sensed the seismic shift in Nahara's essence.

Wrath: Ah, the chains of virtue shattering. The transformation begins.

Meanwhile, Onyx reveled in the success of her dark plot, a wicked delight playing across her thoughts.

Onyx: The seed of Divashma takes root, and soon, Nahara will embrace the freedom we know so well, unfettered by remorse or constraint.

As Nahara hurriedly made her way to the bathroom, Onyx and Wrath exchanged knowing glances, their chuckles resonating with a dark understanding. Onyx, reveling in the chaos she had set in motion, shared a silent, malevolent laugh with Wrath, their amusement echoing in the shadows. In the bathroom, Nahara stared at her reflection, the wild glint in her eyes reflecting the internal storm, she slid her hands down between her thighs, feeling the warmth and wetness of her pussy. Her fingers explored the folds, tracing the contours of her labia. With each touch, her arousal grew, her breath quickening. She began to rub her clit in circular motions, gasping as waves of pleasure surged through her body. Her fingers dipped inside, gliding in and out, as she moaned in ecstasy. Her movements became faster, more urgent, as she brought herself closer to climax. With a shuddering release, Nahara's body convulsed in pleasure, her orgasm washing over her in waves of pure bliss. Nahara moaned, her voice filled with need and longing.

Nahara: Quillain, i want you... I need you... Please, take me. Fill me with your cock, make me yours.

Her words spilled out in a desperate plea, her desire for him consuming every inch of her being.

Nahara: I want to feel your hands on my body, your lips on mine. I want to taste you, to be consumed by the fire of our passion. Fuck me, Quillain. Fuck me until we both lose ourselves in this pleasure.

Her voice trembled with a mix of anticipation and urgency, as she surrendered herself to the depths of her obsession, Nahara's mind filled with thoughts of Quillain, the man who had captivated her desires. As her fingers continued to explore her slick folds, she imagined his strong hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer. In her fantasy, Quillain's lips brushed against hers, sending shivers down her spine. She could almost feel his hard cock pressing against her, ready to plunge deep inside her. With each stroke of her clit, Nahara's imagination intensified, envisioning the way Quillain's body would move against hers, their moans mingling in the air. The pleasure intensified as she pictured Quillain's face contorted in ecstasy, matching her own desire. Oh, how she longed for him to claim her, to satisfy her every craving as she climaxed, her body trembled with the intensity of her fantasy, leaving her breathless and hungry for more. Nahara's body trembled with the intensity of her orgasm, overwhelming her senses and causing her to collapse in a state of blissful exhaustion. Her eyelids fluttered, and her breathing slowed as she slipped into unconsciousness, her body temporarily unable to handle the overwhelming pleasure she had just experienced. Wrath and Onyx, sensing Nahara's state proced to swiftly moved to her side with tender care, they lifted her limp body as Wrath's strong arms cradling her from behind while Onyx supported her legs, the two of them shared a knowing glance, understanding the depths of Nahara's desires and the effect they had on her thanks to the seed of Divashma. Carrying her gently, they made their way to Nahara's room, where they laid her down on the soft, inviting bed, as Nahara lay motionless, her body still humming with residual pleasure, Wrath and Onyx hovered by her side, watching over her, as they waited, ready to offer her comfort or anything else she might desire once she awoke from her blissful slumber.

In the dream:

Nahara, fueled by anger and betrayal, unleashed her fury upon the former Wrath Sin Assassin: Olympias Cameron, the traitor who had betrayed her trust and with a voice dripping with venom, she cursed him with a lifetime of relentless misfortune. The curse, like a dark cloud, descended upon Olympias Cameron, enveloping him in a whirlwind of calamity. From that day forward, his life became a twisted tapestry of ill luck. Misfortune clung to him like a suffocating cloak, dogging his every step. His once-charmed existence crumbled, replaced by a ceaseless parade of accidents, failures, and despair, no matter where Olympias Cameron turned, misfortune followed. His business ventures collapsed, his relationships soured, and his health deteriorated, each day brought new and inventive ways for him to suffer, as if the universe itself conspired against his very existence, Nahara's curse seeped into every aspect of his life. His finances dwindled to nothing, leaving him destitute and desperate, his body, once strong and agile, withered and weakened under the weight of constant afflictions, each dawn brought him fresh agony, as if the curse relished in tormenting him, the Olympias Cameron's social standing crumbled, as his reputation became tainted with whispers of his ill fate. Friends turned their backs, fearing that his misfortune might somehow infect their own lives. Even his family, once a source of solace, became distant, unable to bear witness to the relentless cycle of suffering he endured, Nahara's curse was like a relentless storm, raged on. His' days became a never-ending parade of accidents, disasters, and heartbreak. And in the depths of his despair, he realized the true extent of his betrayal. He had incurred the wrath of a vengeful goddess, and now he reaped the twisted harvest of his treachery.

Nahara: This is the price of the betrayal Olympias Cameron, you fucking asshole, i am Aion, i am destiny, from now on i will choose your fate! For you traitor, your destiny is death!!!

With a wicked glint in her eyes, she summoned forth a sinister plant, a creature born of darkness and hunger.

Nahara: This plant, with its gnarled roots and twisted branches, possessed an insatiable appetite for flesh and despair. It thrived on the misery of others, feeding off their pain and anguish.

Nahara, with a cruel smile, commanded the plant to engulf Sin Assassin, to consume him in its ravenous maw. The plant, sensing its prey, slithered and twisted towards Olympias Cameron, its tendrils reaching out with a sickening hunger. It wrapped itself around his weakened body, its thorns piercing his flesh, drawing forth drops of crimson, as Olympias Cameron's cries of agony filled the air, the plant tightened its grip, squeezing the life out of him. It devoured him slowly, relishing in every moment of his suffering, the plant's roots dug deep into the earth, absorbing his essence, draining him of his vitality. His screams echoed through the night, a symphony of pain and despair, the plant, fueled by his torment, grew stronger, its leaves shimmering with a malevolent glow. It consumed him whole, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell, a mere memory of the traitor he once was. Nahara watched with a perverse satisfaction as the plant completed its grisly feast. Olympias Cameron's existence was extinguished, his fate sealed by the curse that had befallen him. The plant, now satiated, retreated back into the shadows, leaving behind only a chilling silence And so, Nahara's vengeance was fulfilled. Olympias Cameron, once a traitor, was reduced to nothing more than a tragic tale, a cautionary reminder of the consequences of betrayal. The world, forever marked by his demise, would whisper his name in fear and awe, a testament to the power of Nahara's wrath.

Nahara: Gasp! What kind of insane dream is that!?!

In the next few days restlessness fueled Nahara's every step as she sought refuge in the pulsating rhythm of her favorite disco club, the bass thumped in sync with the tumultuous desires that now simmered within her, creating an electric undercurrent that matched the chaos in her soul. Under the neon lights, she moved with an uninhibited grace, the dance floor becoming a stage for the unbridled expression of her newfound freedom, the insidious whispers of seed of Divashma's cooed to Nahara in the thumping heart of the disco club. The promise of liberation echoed in her ears as the seed urged her to embrace the darkness within.

Seed of Divashma: Hunt down those who betrayed you! Shed the chains of morals, shame, and restraints! Embrace the power to shape destinies! Quillain, claim him. Make him yours forever. Let his fate intertwine with yours, bound by the threads of your desires! Use me to persuade the council of seers to align with Tyrant Darius and our cause. Let them succumb to the irresistible allure of our dominion.

Nahara, sensing the unsettling voice within her, questioned its origin.

Nahara: Who are you? What presence infiltrates my thoughts?

Seed of Divashma (slyly): Ah, Nahara, my dear. I am a gift from Darius, the friend you rejected for the mere stain of being a demon. He found a way to gift you the power and freedom you deserve.

Nahara's eyes widened as the realization dawned, the echoes of rejection and prejudice casting a shadow over her choices...again.

Nahara: Darius... what have I become, and what have you unleashed?

Seed of Divashma (a sinister tone in its coo): Fear not, Nahara. Darius holds no grudge against you or Cal. It was your rejection that set him on the path to his true destiny. Cast out from Sin Assassins, he embraced the power within and forged a new identity.

Nahara, torn between regret and intrigue, grappled with the consequences of her past actions.

Nahara: What destiny has he found, and at what cost?

Seed of Divashma: Darius is on the brink of becoming the sovereign of this world, alongside you and those who share the shadows. Embrace the power within, and you shall witness the rise of a new order, where your desires shape the very fabric of reality.

Nahara, caught in the allure of a utopian promise, contemplated the tantalizing prospect of a world crafted from the shadows of her own desires.

Nahara: A better world... free and pleasurable for everyone? How can we bring such a vision to life?

Seed of Divashma: Well, behold Nahara !!! A world unfettered by morals, a canvas painted with the unrestrained desires of all. Picture Darius, his power transcendent, reshaping reality to craft a realm where pleasure reigns supreme. Imagine you and his allies as sovereigns, architects of a utopia where every whim is fulfilled.

The vision unfolded before Nahara, a tapestry of promises where the boundaries of conventional morality crumbled, and the wielders of seed of Divashma shaped the destiny of all, the seductive whispers beckoned her to embrace a reality where desires ruled supreme, a tantalizing landscape where the boundaries of restraint dissolved and the desire danced freely. The allure of this alternate reality whispered promises of a utopian existence governed by the will of those who dared to defy conventional norms. In the throes of the tempting vision and the seductive promises echoing in her mind, Nahara's longing for power and liberation reached a crescendo.

Nahara: Merge with me, Seed of Divashma. Let our desires intertwine, and may our shadows dance as one. Grant me the strength to shape this new world, to revel in the pleasures we envision.

As Nahara uttered her demand, a dark energy enveloped her, and the seed of Divashma responded, becoming one with her essence. The merging of Nahara and the Seed marked a pivotal moment, a convergence of wills that would leave an indelible mark on the destiny they sought to shape. The dance of shadows continued, now with Nahara as both participant and choreographer in this unfolding drama of unrestrained desires and newfound power. As the merging completed, Nahara underwent a profound transformation. Her appearance shifted, embodying the essence of a Roman matron with an otherworldly twist. Her attire, draped in opulent fabrics, exuded an air of authority, while sentient evil flora entwined gracefully around her body, each tendril pulsating with a malevolent energy. Nahara's skin took on the ethereal hues of the purest sky, a surreal manifestation of the power she now wielded. The air around her shimmered with an otherworldly aura as she emerged, a vision of both elegance and darkness, the whispers of the merged entity resonated in her mind, guiding her toward the fulfillment of the vision they had glimpsed, a world where pleasure, power, and the unrestrained desires of all would reign supreme. The dance of shadows continued, now with Nahara as a formidable orchestrator of the unfolding symphony of hedonism and liberation, in the throbbing heart of a shadowy establishment, Nahara, now a matron of shadows with evil flora adorning her form, extended her hand towards a woman at the bar. The air crackled with an eerie energy as she absorbed the essence of the unsuspecting patron's luck, the woman, previously immersed in the mundane, felt a subtle shift, an inexplicable ripple in the fabric of fate. Nahara, fueled by her newfound power, absorbed the luck with a predatory grace, the tendrils of evil flora responding to the feast with a malevolent rustle as the absorbed luck coursed through her, Nahara's eyes gleamed with an intensified glow. The symphony of darkness played on, and the shadows deepened around her, marking the beginning of a macabre dance where the very threads of destiny were at her command.

Nahara: I am Aion the weaver of destiny, your fate, be it good anf bad is mine to give and to take as please!

As the woman's bad luck unfurled, events unfolded around her, stumbling steps, spilled drinks, and a cascade of minor calamities. Nahara and the evil flora observed with a twisted satisfaction, relishing in the macabre beauty of misfortune that now trailed the unsuspecting victim. The dance of shadows continued, and the tendrils, animated by the absorbed luck, undulated in a sinister celebration of the chaos they had orchestrated. As the woman, now burdened by misfortune, realized Nahara's involvement, she approached with a desperate plea.

Woman: Please, I beg you! Remove this terrible luck. I'll do anything!

Nahara, reveling in her newfound power, regarded her with an enigmatic smile.

Nahara: Anything, you say? To rid yourself of this shadow, pledge yourself to the realm of demons at my service. Embrace the seed of Divashma and your misfortune shall be but a distant memory.

As the woman hesitated, the tendrils of evil flora, animated by the malevolent power within Nahara, began to envelop her. The air crackled with dark energy, and the transformation unfolded with an eerie grace, the woman's form twisted and contorted, petals of shadow emerging from her skin. Her limbs elongated into delicate, thorned stems, and her eyes glowed with an otherworldly light. The metamorphosis echoed with whispers of ancient rituals and the eerie laughter of the evil flora.

Woman: What is this sensation? It's as if I'm shedding the weight of a mundane existence. The thorns against my skin, the whispers in my mind, each moment of this transformation is a dance with an ancient power. I can feel the shadows coursing through me, a symphony of liberation!

Nahara, now an orchestrator of shadows, observed the process with a regal satisfaction. The once troubled woman transformed into a demonic rose, a haunting fusion of beauty and darkness. Thorned vines embraced her, and petals unfurled to reveal the depths of her newfound demonic essence.

Rose Demon: This is more than a transformation; it's a rebirth. The beauty in this darkness, the power at my fingertips, I am not bound by the misfortunes of my past. I am a living testament to the shadows, a bloom of ecstasy and freedom.

The demon rose, now under Nahara's command, stood as a living testament to the macabre powers at play. The tendrils of evil flora withdrew, leaving the transformed entity in a surreal bloom, a symbol of the woman's choice to embrace the shadows in exchange for liberation from her ill-fated fortune, then with a sweeping gesture, Nahara invoked a dark incantation, trapping the unsuspecting patrons inside an ethereal web of evil flora.

Nahara: Embrace the seed of Divashma, for within it, you shall find a new reality, a reality where desires know no bounds, and every whim is but a shadow away and forever you all will belong to me, Aion the weaver of destiny!

As the shadows closed in, the disco club transformed into a pocket dimension of evil flora realm, a stage for Nahara to orchestrate the unfolding drama of her dark design, the echoes of her laughter lingered, a herald of the macabre fate that awaited those ensnared within the confines of her dominion.

Nahara: Listen me closely mortals. You stand at the threshold of two destinies, embrace the seed of Divashma willingly, become demons and serve me, taste the freedom I offer, so your existence will be liberated from the shackles of misfortune.

The air crackled with an ominous energy as she continued, the glow of her eyes piercing through the dimness, fear and uncertainty hung heavy in the air as the trapped souls within the disco club faced Nahara's daunting proposition.

Patron 1: Demons? Misfortune? What madness is this?

Patron 2 (eyeing Nahara warily): I don't know about demons, but eternal misfortune doesn't sound like a party. What are we supposed to do?

Nahara, towering over them with an air of authority, waited for their responses.

Patron 3 (hesitating): I... I don't want to live cursed. But becoming a demon? That's madness.

Nahara, a glint of impatience in her eyes, pressed them for a decision.

Nahara: Time is of the essence. Choose, for the threads of fate wait for no one.

A lone patron, with a spiteful tone, resisted Nahara's proposition.

Defiant Male Patron: I'll not bow to your demonic whims! Misfortune or not, I won't embrace your insanity.

Internally, Nahara's eyes gleamed with a subtle malevolence as she contemplated how to address this defiance.

Nahara: So, you resist the allure of my powers? Very well, defiance carries its own punishment.

Nahara with a wave of my hand, summon thick, writhing vines of poison ivy that emerge from the ground. The vines are covered in jagged thorns, their leaves glistening with a toxic oil proced they coil around the prisoner's body, their sharp points pierce the skin, drawing drops of blood, the prisoner's flesh reacts immediately to the poisonous touch, the skin turning red and inflamed. Intense itching spreads rapidly, causing the prisoner to squirm and writhe in agony. The sensation intensifies, shifting from a mere itch to a searing pain that feels like a thousand needles piercing the skin, the poison ivy's oil seeps into every pore, intensifying the burning sensation, the prisoner's screams fill the air as blisters form, oozing with a clear, pus-like fluid, the relentless grip of the vines leaves no respite, constricting tighter with each struggle, leaving deep welts and bruises, the prisoner's eyes well up with tears, their body convulsing from the overwhelming torment. The poison ivy continues its merciless assault, as the prisoner's skin becomes raw and tender, resembling a canvas of agony. The pain becomes unbearable, consuming their every thought, driving them towards the brink of insanity, the punishment continues until the prisoner is broken, their defiance crushed under the weight of unimaginable suffering. Only then, when their spirit is shattered, do the vines finally retract, leaving behind a ravaged and scarred body as a reminder of their defiance. Nahara's eyes glowed with an intensity as she channeled her dark power, transforming the defiant patron into a mindless, poisonous ivy demon.

Nahara: Your defiance has consequences, mortal. Embrace your new form, a living testament to the consequences of resisting me.

As the man underwent the transformation, tendrils of poisonous ivy began to envelop him, his features distorted into a grotesque manifestation of Nahara's will.

Poison Ivy Demon (devoid of free will, uttered in an otherworldly voice): I am but a vessel at your service. Your will is my command, Aion the weaver of destiny.

Nahara, satisfied with her display of power, regarded the newly created demon with a twisted smile.

Nahara: Serve as a reminder to others. I demand obedience, and those who resist shall become mere echoes of their former selves.

The poison ivy demon stood, an embodiment of Nahara's authority, awaiting further commands with a hollow gaze and a body twisted by the Nahara' malevolent touch. Then Nahara orders the people to engage in sexual acts with her flowers. The people, under Nahara's command, approach the flowers with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation.

Patron 1: This is sick and wrong...

Nahara: Is defiance what i have just heared?

Patron 2: Nononono (patron 1 are you daft?!? Do it, please we don't want to die).

Then the air suddenly crackled with a dark presence. Tyrant Darius, materialized in the midst of the shadowy disco club. Nahara, recognizing him, approached with a mixture of worry and happiness emotion.

Nahara (bowing slight): Tyrant Darius, my apologies for the past. I see the shadows have woven us together once more.

Tyrant Darius, with an air of regality, acknowledged her words and then, unexpectedly, Nahara stepped forward, enveloping him in a bear hug.

Nahara: Forgive me, old friendbfro not being a true friend.

Tyrant Darius: No need for apologies, Nahara. Thanks to you and Cal, a grand vision unfolds before us. A world of hedonism, freedom, and lawlessness where we, as absolute sovereigns, shape the very fabric of reality. The seed of Divadhma and Aeshdeos have granted us the power to rewrite the rules of the world.

Nahara, absorbing the weight of his words, nodded with a newfound understanding.

Nahara: Together, we shall mold a utopia, where desires know no restraint. Let the dance of lawlessness, hedonism and freedom.

Meanwhile, one of patron touch the petals, a surge of pleasure courses through their bodies, igniting a primal urge within them. The flowers respond to their touch, their velvety texture and delicate petals caressing the eager flesh of the people. Moans fill the air as the flowers and people become entangled in an erotic dance, their bodies intertwining in a sensual symphony. The petals brush against sensitive skin, the floral essence mingling with the scent of arousal. Pleasure consumes them as they surrender to the forbidden ecstasy, their bodies and desires entwined in a mesmerizing display of hedonism.

Flowers: We got picked for so long now is the peoples turn to be picked as our sex toys!

The flowers, driven by the desire of dominate their sex toy, caress and explore the folds of the defiant woman's body. Their petals, soft and velvety, glide along her skin, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. The woman's breath quickens as the flowers skillfully find her most sensitive areas, their gentle touch eliciting moans of pleasure from her lips. With each stroke and caress, the flowers bring her closer to the edge of ecstasy. Their movements become more deliberate, their petals teasing and penetrating, bringing her to the peak of pleasure again and again. The woman, overwhelmed by the intense sensations, surrenders herself to the intoxicating pleasure offered by the sentient flowers, losing herself in a realm of blissful abandon.

Tyrant Darius: What a scenery, worthy of a colossal film.

Nahara: Of course Darius, this show is for you.

Nahara's voice resonates with a commanding tone. The flowers, their petals still gently pleasuring the defiant patrons, seem to respond to Nahara's words, their movements becoming more synchronized and purposeful.

Nahara: Witness the power of desire and surrender. Then they become my army and slaves.

Tyrant Darius: By all means.

Darius, observed the scene unfolding before him, stands in both awe and amusement. He see some mushrooms, turn their attention to a man present in the scene. The man, initially taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, finds himself unable to resist the allure of the pulsating fungi. The mushrooms surround him, their slimy caps brushing against his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

Patron: Ahhh, how aahhh being touched by plants feels good? This is madness...

With each touch, the mushrooms emit a faint, intoxicating scent, further heightening his arousal. The mushrooms explore his body, their girthy stems gliding over his sensitive areas, eliciting moans of pleasure from his lips. Their movements are purposeful, and they seem to know exactly how to stimulate him, bringing him to the edge of ecstasy as the mushrooms continue their sensual dance, their slimy texture and firmness create a unique sensation against his flesh. The man's breathing grows heavier, his body surrendering to the pleasure bestowed upon him. The mushrooms expertly tease and stroke, pushing him closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure until he succumbs to its overwhelming allure.

Praton: Merge with me mushrooms!

Nahara: Wonderful another Mushroom demon.

Tyrant Darius: An army of flora demons, it suits you my friend.

In the pulsating atmosphere of the disco club, the prisoners find themselves caught in a mix of despair and arousal, their bodies moving to the rhythm of the music while their minds remain imprisoned by their circumstances. As the bass reverberates through the room, their moans blend with the beats, a symphony of hidden desires and suppressed frustration.

Flowers: Yes, moan, scream, cry our sex toys.

Their moans resonate with a mix of longing and resignation, a collective expression of the pleasure they crave but cannot fully attain. Each moan carries the weight of their unfulfilled fantasies, a reminder of the forbidden pleasures they once knew but now can only yearn for, amidst the flashing lights and gyrating bodies, their moans become a whispered rebellion, a defiant declaration of their suppressed needs and desires. It is a bittersweet soundtrack of pleasure and pain, a constant reminder of the freedom they have lost and the pleasures they can no longer indulge in.

Nahara: Oops i broke them.

Tyrant Darius: Playthings are mean to be broken, my friend. Lets see if you can break them further.

As the prisoners continue to dance, their bodies moving in sync with the music, their moans intertwine with the melodies, creating an atmosphere charged with both desperation and a hunger for liberation in insanity. Then the vines turn their attention to pleasuring a man's cock. The vines, strong and sinewy, wrap themselves around his throbbing member, their touch both firm and gentle. As they coil and twist, their textured surface stimulates every inch of his sensitive flesh, eliciting moans of pleasure from his lips.

Patron: Yes!!! Make me yours.

The vines glide up and down his shaft, their movements synchronized and purposeful. The friction they create intensifies the sensations, driving him closer to the edge of ecstasy. With each stroke, the vines exert just the right amount of pressure, their movements expertly tailored to his desires as the vines continue their erotic dance, they explore every contour of his cock, their tendrils caressing every inch with a combination of firmness and suppleness. They tease his sensitive tip, wrapping around it with a gentle yet insistent grip, heightening his pleasure to unimaginable levels. The man's moans grow louder, his body trembling with anticipation as the vines skillfully bring him to the brink of release. The pleasure builds and builds, until finally, with a powerful surge, he succumbs to the overwhelming sensation, experiencing a mind-bending orgasm that leaves him gasping for breath and merge with the vines.

Nahara: Now i got a Vines demon. For the grand finale my flora have an orgy with your sex toys.

She orders the plants to engage in an erotic orgy. The plants, responding to her command, come alive with a newfound passion. Their vines entangle and intertwine, their leaves shimmering with anticipation as the plants come together, their various shapes and sizes create a mesmerizing tableau of sensuality. Vines caress and stroke, leaves flicker with anticipation, and petals quiver with desire. The air becomes thick with the scent of arousal as the plants explore each other's bodies, their movements synchronized in a primal dance of pleasure.

Patrons: Help us, someone free us from this madnesssss!!!!!!!

Leaves brush against petals, vines intertwine, and tendrils entwine, creating a symphony of tactile sensations. The plants writhe and undulate, their vibrant colors mingling in an intoxicating display of desire. Moans of pleasure echo through the air as the plants surrender to their primal urges, lost in a realm of hedonistic pleasure.

Tyrant Darius: Talk about a forbidden dream of a nature lovers.

Nahara, an alluring observer, watches with a mix of fascination and satisfaction as the plants engage in their forbidden orgy, Tyrant Darius and Nahara enjoying to orgy show for three hours, then Nahara, with a mere whisper of command, order the surrounding flora to merge with the patrons. The sentient flowers, plants, trees, and mushrooms, each infused with a malevolent sentience, exuded joy at the prospect of this unholy fusion.

Flora: We rejoice in the merging! Becoming one with the patrons, do wr can became worthy servant of our master! We are the children of fate , bound to the will of Nahara, the matron of darkness. Our existence is an eternal dance in her service.

Their voices resonated with an otherworldly harmony, their voice full of joy and reverence for Nahara. Nahara surveyed her legion of flora demons with a regal satisfaction.

Nahara: You are reborn in my image. Embrace your new purpose and serve as extensions of my will.

The flora demons knelt before Nahara in worship, meanwhile Tyrant Darius with a commanding air, entrusted Nahara with a crucial mission, to dissuade the council of seers and sway them towards his vision of a world governed by hedonism, freedom, and lawlessness. In his hands he held the seed of Divashma and they would aid Nahara in this endeavor.

Tyrant Darius: Nahara, you hold the seed of Divashma. Use its influence to shape the minds of the council. Convince them of the glory that awaits in our envisioned utopia.

Nahara, accepting the seed with a nod, felt the dark power coursing through her.

Nahara: Consider it done, Tyrant Darius. The council shall be swayed to embrace the seed of Divashma and join our pursuit of absolute freedom, hedonism and lawlessness.

Armed with the seed of Divashma, Nahara embarked on her mission prepared to weave the seed of Divashma influence and guide the council of seers towards the intoxicating allure of the envisioned world Tyrant Darius sought to create. As Nahara cloaked herself in the shadows and wielding the seed of Divashma, entered the council of seers who regarded her with a mix of surprise and anger.

Seer 1 (accusatorily): Why have you aligned yourself with Tyrant Darius, Nahara? Have you forsaken the path of righteousness?

Nahara responded with a chilling laughter that echoed through the council chamber.

Nahara: Righteousness? No, my dear seers. The time for convention has passed. Now is the era of hedonism, freedom, and lawlessness. Tyrant Darius offers a vision of a world untethered from the restraints that bind you. Embrace it, for the seed of Divashma demand a new reality.

Seer 2: You've lost your way, Nahara. This vision is madness!

Nahara, undeterred, continued to crackle with manic laughter as she held the seed of Divashma aloft.

Nahara: Madness? No, it's liberation. The seed of Divashma holds the power to reshape minds. Join me, and together, we shall usher in an era where desires know no boundaries ahahahhahah.

As Nahara's laughter echoed through the council chamber, she summon her demonic flora as a and order them to release their hypnotic pollens, an ethereal mist that permeated the air, casting a subtle spell over the council of seers.

Seer 3: What is this strange feeling? I... I find myself reconsidering.

Seer 4: The air is alive with whispers. Perhaps there is merit in Tyrant Darius's vision.

Seer 5: The air is thick with change. Tyrant Darius's vision... it beckons.

The hypnotic pollens worked their insidious magic, gradually eroding the resistance of the council. Nahara, with a malevolent satisfaction, continued to wield the influence of the seed of Divashma.

Nahara: Let the me guide your thoughts. Embrace the seed of Divashma and witness the world Tyrant Darius envisions! A realm of hedonism, freedom, and lawlessness.

As the council of seers, now swayed by the hypnotic pollens, began to relent, Nahara's demonic flora exulted in the success of their enchantment, shaping the minds of the seers in accordance with the dark vision Tyrant Darius sought to manifest.

Seer 6: I feel... unburdened. The weight of morality lifted.

Seer 7: Thank you, Nahara, for this gift. Our minds are free, and we see the world through new eyes.

Their voices, now laced with echoes of seed of Divashma whispers, resonated with a sense of exhilaration. The council of seers, once guardians and guides, now stood as liberated beings, their allegiance pledged to Tyrant Darius's vision of hedonism, freedom, and lawlessness, Nahara immersed in the aftermath of the council of seers transformation, heard a familiar voice in her mind. a voice that carried with it the resonance of Quillain.

Quillain: Nahara, Tyrant Darius told me that we can finally be together as spouses.

Nahara: Indeed i want you naked when i will warp myself your room so we can finally make love!!!

Quillain: As you wish my lady.

Nahara warpd in Quillain room and didn't waste a second as she quickly undress herself and eagerly takes Quillan's cock in her hands, feeling its warmth and hardness. She moves closer, pressing her breasts against it, using them to create a delicious friction. Her mouth descends upon his shaft, her lips wrapping tightly around it as she begins to suck, her tongue swirling and teasing. Her movements are skilled and deliberate, alternating between gentle caresses and deep, eager sucks. Quillan's pleasure intensifies, his cock throbbing in response to Nahara's skilled touch, she continues her skilled oral ministrations, bringing Quillan to the peak of pleasure. As he reaches his climax, his cock pulsates in her mouth, releasing hot spurts of cum. Nahara eagerly swallows every drop, savoring the taste of his release. She looks up at Quillan, a satisfied smile on her face, as she licks her lips, ensuring she doesn't miss a single drop of his essence, Nahara's eyes gleam with desire as she gazes up at Quillan, her voice husky with anticipation.

Nahara: Quillan, I want you to fuck my mouth with your cock.

She breathes, her words dripping with a raw hunger. She positions herself, her mouth open wide, ready to be filled by him. Quillan, captivated by her explicit request, takes hold of his throbbing member and guides it into her waiting mouth. With each thrust, Nahara eagerly submits, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to pleasure him. The sound of their passionate coupling fills the room as Quillan thrusts deeper, their connection growing more intense with each powerful movement, Quillan relishes in the power he holds over Nahara, his desire to tease her evident in his every movement as he thrusts into her mouth with a fervent eagerness, he intermittently slows his pace, teasing her with shallow strokes that barely graze the depths of her throat. He revels in the way her breath catches and her eyes plead for more, her anticipation growing with each deliberate pause. Quillan's control over her pleasure becomes a tantalizing game, a dance of dominance and submission, as he toys with her, pushing her limits and testing her resolve, then with a primal roar of release, Quillan reaches the pinnacle of his pleasure, his cock pulsating as he releases his hot load deep into Nahara's throat. She eagerly swallows every drop, her throat contracting around him, milking him of his essence. The taste of his cum fills her senses, a bittersweet reminder of their raw and uninhibited connection. They both bask in the aftermath, their bodies spent and satisfied, as the echoes of their intense encounter linger in the air. Still hungry for each other he positions himself behind her, his throbbing cock poised at the entrance of her tight, forbidden opening. Without hesitation, he pushes forward, stretching her as he enters her ass with a forceful thrust. Nahara gasps and moans, a mix of pleasure and a hint of pain escaping her lips. Quillan's rhythm becomes relentless, his hips thrusting vigorously as he claims her ass as his own. The room fills with the sounds of their passionate coupling, the slapping of skin against skin and their passionate cries of ecstasy blending together in a symphony of raw desire, Quillan and Nahara, lost in the throes of their passionate encounter, exchange worshipful words between breaths and moans. Their voices intertwine in a symphony of desire and devotion as they express their adoration for each other.

Quillain: Oh, Nahara, you're so fucking incredible. Your ass feels amazing around my cock.

Nahara: Quillan, you're an incredible lover. Your cock fills me completely. I crave you, I need you.

Their words become a mantra of praise and desire, fueling their connection and intensifying their pleasure until with a final, primal howl of pleasure, Quillan and Nahara reach the peak of their orgasmic release. Their bodies tremble with the intensity of their shared climax, their souls intertwined in a moment of blissful surrender. As the waves of pleasure wash over them, exhaustion takes hold, and they find solace in each other's arms. Drifting into a deep slumber, their bodies entangled, they succumb to the peaceful embrace of sleep, their dreams filled with the echoes of their passionate union. Feeling hungry after the intense and long sex, Nahara extended her will into the fabric of reality, conjuring a doppelganger to do her bidding.

Nahara: Go forth, my shadow self. Seek out those whose luck flows freely, and bring their fortune to me. I'm hungry for soul.

The doppelganger melted into the darkness, becoming one with the night. Its mission was clear, to weave through the unsuspecting crowds, draining luck from those who believed themselves immune to the whims of fate.

Nahara doppelganger: Found an tasty prey for my creator.

Said woman, blissfully ignorant of the curse that had been cast upon her, climbed into her car, her mind occupied with mundane thoughts of the day ahead as she drove down the road, the universe conspired against her, aligning the elements of fate to bring forth her untimely demise. Suddenly, a blinding flash of light illuminated the sky, accompanied by a deafening thunderclap, the heavens themselves seemed to weep as rain poured down, drenching the asphalt and obscuring visibility as the woman's grip tightened on the steering wheel as her heart raced, sensing the impending danger, In the midst of the torrential downpour, a slick patch of oil materialized on the road, cunningly concealed beneath the rainwater. The woman's tires lost traction, causing her car to skid uncontrollably. Panic gripped her as she fought desperately to regain control, but her efforts were in vain, with a sickening screech of metal against metal, her vehicle careened out of control, spinning wildly across the slick road. Time seemed to slow down as her car collided with an oncoming vehicle, the impact sending shards of glass and twisted metal flying in all directions, the force of the collision was devastating, crumpling the woman's car like a tin can. The airbags deployed with a violent burst, but they were no match for the sheer brutality of the crash. Bones snapped, organs were crushed, and the woman's body contorted in unimaginable ways as the wreckage engulfed her, Nahara doppelganger warp the car with dead woman so she can turn her in mindless puppet to toy with, so she commanded her shadow to seize the lifeless body of the woman and assimilate it. The shadow, obedient to its master's command, slithered across the ground, its inky tendrils wrapping around the cold, motionless form with an eerie hiss, the shadow began to merge with the corpse, its darkness intertwining with the lifeless flesh, the woman's body became a vessel, a conduit for the shadow's insatiable hunger as the shadow consumed her, as the assimilation progressed, the woman's limbs twitched and contorted, her skin taking on a sickly pallor, the shadow's influence twisted her features, warping her once familiar visage into a macabre reflection of its own darkness. Her eyes, once filled with life, now glowed with an otherworldly malevolence. Nahara, observing the shadowy transformation of a woman into a doll-like entity, questioned her doppelganger with a mix of curiosity and intrigue.

Nahara: Why did you choose to transform that woman into a shadow doll?

Nahara Doppelganger (with a chilling monotone): I desired a toy, something to play with in free time.

The answer echoed with a detached sense of satisfaction, as if the doppelganger found amusement in reshaping the fates of those it encountered. Nahara, curious by the response and intrigued by the notion of further indulgence in her doppelganger madness, Nahara issued her a dark command.

Nahara: Enter a casino, my doppelganger. Turn the patrons into soulless dolls and bring their essence to me. The hunger for fortune still gnaws at my being.

Nahara Doppelganger (with a bow of subservience): As you command, my creator.

The shadowy entity slipped into the casino, tendrils of darkness extending to each unsuspecting gambler. One by one, the patrons succumbed to the doppelganger's touch, their forms transforming into soulless dolls, devoid of life and purposes, as Nahara's doppelganger completed its haunting task in the casino, it returned to its creator, the shadows pulsating with captured souls. Nahara, curious and hungry for the essence of those consumed, questioned her creation.

Nahara: Tell me, shadow. What joy did you find in stripping their souls?

Nahara Doppelganger: Their essence writhed in the shadows, a symphony of despair and fading echoes. To witness the unraveling of their souls brought me delight, a dance of agony that fueled the depths of darkness.

Nahara, absorbing the doppelganger's sadistic joy, felt a wicked satisfaction in the dark orchestration.

Nahara: Such exquisite torment. Warp to me their essence, so i can consume their souls.

The doppelganger warped the captured souls to Nahara and she swallow them, still Nahara and her doppelganger still hungry for more prey, Nahara doppelganger enter in a bar and assimilate the patrons with her shadow. The trapped patrons in the bar, their bodies now vessels for Nahara's shadow, were caught in a never-ending nightmare. Their voices, filled with anguish and desperation, echoed through the dimly lit establishment. The air was thick with the scent of fear and the taste of despair. Their screams reverberated off the walls, a symphony of torment that pierced through the veil of the mundane. They pleaded for liberation, their cries carrying the weight of their stolen lives. Each soul trapped within the assimilated bodies and luck sucked out from them yearned for release from the clutches of Nahara's darkness ad their once vibrant and individual identities were now muted, overshadowed by the all-consuming presence of the shadow. Like her master and creator Nahara doppelganger, reveling in her sadistic nature, gloated over the cries of the assimilated patrons. The cacophony of their despair was like sweet music to her ears, a symphony of agony that resonated deep within her soul. Their pleas for liberation only fueled her insatiable hunger for power and control, with a wicked grin, Nahara taunted the trapped souls, relishing in their suffering. She reveled in the symphony of their torment, finding perverse pleasure in their cries for mercy. Their lamentations were not met with sympathy or compassion, but rather with a twisted delight that twisted her lips into a cruel smile. To Nahara, their anguish was a testament to her dominance, a testament to the depths of her power. Their screams were a constant reminder of her control over their very existence. She derived immense pleasure from their pain, savoring every note of their desperate pleas as the assimilated patrons continued to lament their fate, Nahara's satisfaction grew. Their suffering fueled her dark desires, empowering her with a sense of sadistic pleasure that knew no boundary. The cries of the trapped souls were a perverse melody, an anthem of submission and despair that echoed through the darkest recesses of her being, then she commanded her shadow to consume the bodies of the assimilated patrons. The shadow slithered and writhed, its inky tendrils engulfing the lifeless vessels, consuming them with a voracious appetite, with each touch of the shadow, the bodies were devoured, their flesh dissolving into darkness. The process was grotesque and macabre, as the shadow absorbed their very essence, leaving nothing but a trail of emptiness in its wake, Nahara watched with a twisted satisfaction as her shadow consumed the assimilated bodies, relishing in the grotesque display of consumption. The air was filled with the sickening scent of decay and the sight of flesh melting away, while the sounds of bones crunching and liquid slurping filled the room. She reveled in the taste of their stolen lives, the sensation of their essence coursing through her being. With each consumption, her power grew stronger, her connection to the shadows deepening. The patrons, who were once trapped within the assimilated bodies, now existed only as a part of Nahara's insatiable appetite, as the last remnants of the bodies disappeared into the darkness, Nahara stood amidst the remains, her hunger momentarily satisfied. The room was now devoid of life, filled only with the lingering echoes of the consumed souls.

Nahara: Thanks for the dinner, now you're free to play with toy woman you created.

Nahara doppelganger: Thank you my master and creator.

Nahara before going to sleep she thinked...

Nahara: I am Aion the weaver of destiny, finally fate, bad and good luck, destiny are mine to do anything i want!!!

Then she fell asleep peacefully with her spouse Quillain.