#only to have that fantasy crushed by fate and reality

[gonegrove]

So I remember we were driving, driving in your car / Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk / City lights lay out before us / And your arm felt nice wrapped ‘round my shoulder / And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged / I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman // Stranger Things 2, 3 & 4

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #billyhargroveedit #maxmayfieldedit #yes i did choose violence how could you tell???? #i'm aggressively ignoring how she's technically singing about a romantic relationship bc other than that the energy is IMMACULATE for them #not even as siblings just as people bc they're both in this place they want to escape from and trying to fight for a new future for themself #only to have that fantasy crushed by fate and reality #the ancient texts

[hardestgrove]

So I remember we were driving, driving in your car / Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk / City lights lay out before us / And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder / And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged / I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman // Stranger Things 2, 3 & 4

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #billyhargroveedit #yes i did choose violence how could you tell???? #i'm aggressively ignoring how she's technically singing about a romantic relationship bc other than that the energy is IMMACULATE for them #not even as siblings just as people bc they're both in this place they want to escape from and trying to fight for a new future for themself #only to have that fantasy crushed by fate and reality

[archonsabyss]

╰─..✶. [ Impetuous Bonds ]

❒ pairing: al haitham x fem!reader [ft platonic bff wriothesley]

❒ genre: fluff! action!

❒ warnings: minor violence!

❒ wc: 5.6k

─❒ authors note: did you know I've been working on this fic since october 4th. It's been rough but the year's over thank god. on the other note, let me officially introduce my wriothesley and al haitham as besties brain rot. and yes I have plans to expand on this brain rot. atlst 2 more ideas which I'll start on as soon as the spark hits again 💐

Amid your contrasting personalities was a semblance of shared interests woven together by a single thread. You, one and the same possessed a deep love for reading, discovering solace in the scripted ink, where letters blended to form words, weaving pathways to realms of boundless creativity. Whether it delved into knowledge, seeking escape, or simply enjoying the thrill of fiction, this mutual passion became a bridge of understanding between you despite your glaring differences.

A sense of harmony prevailed in your relationship which created a captivating paradox that intrigued those around you. People marvelled at the depth of your connection, questioning how two individuals so dissimilar could share such an intimate bond. Some attributed it to the age-old saying that opposites attract, believing it to be fate's handiwork—a calm presence to counterbalance chaos, a soothing embrace against restlessness, and a tender heart to temper the directness of the wordsmith.

Alternatively, it could be argued that the similarities, subtle yet profound, were the secret ingredients of your relationship. A quiet demeanour and reserved nature concealed a dream-like love that left onlookers in both awe and envy. Your love story, tender and understated, defied expectations, leaving a trail of wonder and admiration in its wake. A love, true as an existence of pure gold, if such ethereal beauty could be acknowledged.

To you, what others deemed ordinary, was a world of its own. Normal acts of affection and simple gestures of intimacy felt like your beloved had gifted you the heavens and earth. Perhaps, the extent to which you elaborated on your connection with the acting grand sage felt akin to a tale spun from fantasy, a reverie you indulged in.

You considered that the romanticized nature of your love might have been obscured by the mist of infatuation, that the love you had for Al Haitham may have cast an enchanting illusion upon your reality. But it was okay when no harm or toxicity came from being tucked away in your little head, daydreaming about the man who had long proclaimed himself yours until the day he died.

As the early days of parading around with an unacknowledged crush, and the fledgling phase of your romance grew further in distance, you settled into a life different, happier yet marked by its trials.

You fell in step with each other, occasionally finding them offbeat or at entirely different paces, yet such is the essence of any relationship. Despite this, everything harmonized.

While you weren't a morning person, on rare occasions when sleep evaded you, you'd rise earlier than usual, and frequently, Al Haitham would already be awake. During those moments you would sit together in bed for a few minutes longer or have an early breakfast before the sun had fully ascended, relishing in the silence and warmth of each other's company, and today was one of those days.

While Al Haitham took a shower, you began preparing breakfast, knowing that your errands could only be attended to a bit later on.

Upon entering the kitchen, an aromatic veil of freshly brewed coffee gracefully filled the air, its enticing fragrance embracing Al Haitham as he sat down and reached for the coffee, finding it already thoughtfully poured into two cups, one from which you'd intermittently sipped on while engrossed in preparing food to sustain you for the first half of the day. Despite knowing its warmth had faded as you got lost in preparations, you were certain, albeit acknowledging its unhealthiness, that you'd have another cup once breakfast started. Meanwhile, Al Haitham had long eased into his seat at the island table, his hands cradling a mug, savouring the invigorating bitter heat of his coffee. His concentration remained unbroken as his eyes meticulously skimmed through the arranged stack of documents before him.

It was a simple and ordinary scene, but it was these moments shared that held such immense value.

You felt completely at ease as you moved about the kitchen, exuding the comfort of a face free from makeup, clad solely in the shirt Al Haitham discarded before bed, with your hair casually bundled in a tousled bun.

The kitchen bustled with the promise of breakfast, ingredients for pancakes and eggs scattered like confetti on the tables. In contrast to your relaxed appearance, your lover was impeccably dressed, looking incredibly handsome and sharp. For most of the time you had your back turned to him, unaware that Al Haitham couldn't help but steal glances between you and his papers.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips. Though his face remained composed, it was clear from the emotions in his eyes that he was utterly captivated by you— the subtle relaxation and absence of tension in his gaze spoke volumes.

Whenever you turned to face him, his attention would seamlessly shift back to his work, not out of shame for openly admiring his beloved, but because he understood that if your eyes locked, the temptation to whisk you back to bed would be irresistible.

"When will you join me" He mused after some time, lips hiding behind his cup of coffee as you scowled when one of the pancakes painfully flopped.

"As soon as your food is done" You mutter, sighing in relief when you flip the last pancake, turn off the stove, and turn around to set the plate of food before him.

Al Haitham's eyes lit up with deep gratitude behind the gilded frames of his glasses, glimmering with subdued enthusiasm, his smile a testament to the warmth of his appreciation as his fingers entwined with yours, gently pulling you around the counter and towards him.

With a soft kiss on your hand, he tilted his head, silently pleading for a kiss, his whispered "Thank you" lingering in the air as you leaned in, wishing to seal his gratitude with another kiss when you were startled by a sudden resounding crash reverberating through the house, signalling the forceful swing of the front door opening and closing.

You both turned your heads in the direction of the hallway and in sauntered Wriothesley who had been a guest in Sumeru as well as your home for the past week. He wore a nonchalant smile each time he visited, his hair artfully tousled, and his heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor.

Al Haitham often remarked, like clockwork, that Wriothesley would invite himself inside as if he was welcomed, which he was not by his words, but by your prior blessing to enter whenever he pleased.

Al Haitham let out an audible grumble, his smile fading as Wriothesley's smile grew, begrudgingly turning his attention to his meal, expressing his discontent in silence. You planted a kiss on his cheek and gently pulled away, a move he anticipated, evident from the disapproving glare he directed at his plate while he continued eating.

"Good morning, Wriothesley." You cheerfully greeted, just as you have every time he's made his unannounced─ yet expected entrance.

"I've just brewed a fresh pot of tea for you," You stated proudly, already taking out a cup and pouring the piping hot amber liquid in.

In response, your distinguished guest's grin widens a touch as he offers his thanks and comfortably takes a seat beside Al Haitham.

"When do you plan on returning home? I reckon your presence there is considerably valued─ necessary if you prefer" Al Haitham inquired with a casual and composed demeanour, his tone direct and perhaps a bit blunt, though neither you nor Wriothesley takes offence as you've grown accustomed to his straightforwardness.

With a playful gleam in his eyes, he opted to provoke a reaction by disregarding Al Haitham and answering you instead, "Figured you'd feed me"

"Mind your manners," Al Haitham chimes in flatly, taking a sip of his coffee while casting a sidelong glance at Wriothesley. "My wife's not here to serve you."

"Fiancée," Wriothesley corrects teasingly, his smile appreciative towards you as you set the plate before him and move on to the dishes, disregarding their banter.

Al Haitham's jaw tightened in annoyance at the correction. To him, it was merely a title, a formality. In less than a month you were set to officially become his wife, yet the significance of a ring and title paled in comparison to the deep connection he felt in his mind, heart, and soul from the very beginning. He was undeniably yours, just as you were undeniably his, and nothing could change that.

"Regardless, she's mine and has no obligation to serve you let alone feed you"

"It's not an obligation if she wants to do it" Wriothesley takes a sip of his tea, humming in contentment as the warm liquid touches his tongue and envelopes his throat, satisfied with your skills as always.

Al Haitham reluctantly admits to himself that Wriothesley is right, simply because he knows you. Over the years he has observed, comprehended, and admired you from distances far and near, he's learned almost everything there is to know about you, and your passion for cooking was one of them seeing as you've taken up the role of preparing the meals on most days.

Al Haitham has seen the way you revelled in the process of preparing meals with the mindset that your actions would fill the stomachs of those you loved dearly, even if there was the less enjoyable task of washing dishes afterwards, if it was for him, anything. To his misfortune, that anything extended to the male seated beside him as well.

You snuck a few glances between the two, restraining your amusement by biting your lip as you leaned over the counter and picked at the fruit bowls, knowing you were rarely able to stomach food this early in the morning without feeling nauseated.

"It's been a while since I've gotten to savour a meal made with love, let me enjoy this" Wriothesley smiles, savouring the mix of sugary sweet syrup that he licks off his lips.

"If you must, shut up and drink your tea" Al Haitham mumbles under his breath with an ever so small smile hinting at the corner of his lips, prompting an amused raised eyebrow from the onlooker.

"Why don't you shut up and drink your coffee so I can enjoy my tea then"

"You are insufferable"

"Do you think I'm insufferable?" Wriothesley directs at you, pursing his lips into a full pout just to annoy Al Haitham even more.

"No, Wrio. I think you're rather quite loveable" You said smiling as you leaned your forearms on Al Haitham's shoulders and placed your chin atop his head.

"See," He says smugly, "Loveable"

Al Haitham releases a deep breath, exhaling built-up frustrations, and gradually letting worries and tension fade away, he eases his shoulders, leaning back more into your embrace, while Wriothesley attempts to hide his smile upon witnessing it.

"Do you boys have any plans for the day?" You asked eventually. One of them shook his head and the other simply shrugged. "I have a few errands to run and seeing as you're both available, would you mind accompanying me?"

"That would depend" The grin returns to Wriothesley's pondering face, "I'll take my payment in the form of your baking" He decided, unfolding his arms and placing them flat on the countertop, but in doing so he receives a sharp nudge to his ankles from the tip of Al Haitham's shoe.

Wriothesley winces but doesn't retreat, he shrugs lazily before stating lastly with narrowed eyes directed at his dearest friend in emphasis, "I work enough as it is, Al Haitham. Being an errand boy has become more your thing, and besides, there's no way I'm going to pass up the chance of having your Mrs, bake for me"

Al Haitham pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the forming ache.

You smile sweetly at Wriothesley, thanking him for the compliment just as Al Haitham rises from his seat, dishes in hand and a perpetually sullen and irritated expression etched on his face, wishing for the silence that has been disturbed.

🜙˚─ [˚ ⁀🕯️⟡‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Strolling through the streets of Sumeru to reach your destination, you took the time to observe the peculiar camaraderie between Al Haitham and Wriothesley as they walked a few steps ahead of you, lost in a world of their own, one with a scowl while the other engaged in conversation, seemingly unaware that he wasn't being heard by the former.

Al Haitham's composed and disinterested expression might deceive anyone into believing he wasn't attentive, and there was a chance his noise-cancelling earpieces were intentionally activated to avoid hearing the conversation, but as you observe him closely, you discerned that Al Haitham was indeed attentive, if not wholly absorbed in the Duke's ceaseless chatter.

It was to no one's business but his own, Al Haitham once said to you, for your ears alone, while seated by your dresser, observing you through the mirror as you loosened your corset and unbuttoned your white blouse, revealing skin just above your belly button.

In unspoken words, it was a confession where he admitted he acknowledged his friends more than he expressed. He admired Kaveh's profound passion for the arts and his unwavering stubbornness when they bickered, he also acknowledged with a hint of irritation, the blonde's imperfections and his excessive eagerness to please others through tireless efforts.

What Al Haitham harbours within himself is quite bothersome to his conscious, it is the fact that Kaveh withholds emotional fragility, a presumption he believes you're already aware of, but it does not change how he engages with the latter.

Al Haitham with all his knowledge hardly wishes to entangle himself in the inner turmoil of others, hence, he chooses to refrain from crossing a particular boundary, with Wriothesley on the other hand, presented a slightly more distinct scenario where he found his company rather tolerable if not likable, though he would never dare to articulate it.

Al Haitham turned from the dresser's mirror to face you, drawing you between his parted legs and resting his hands beneath your shirt on your bare hips, he lifted his eyes to meet yours before uttering a sentence you least expected that night before bed. "Would you accompany me to Fontaine?" No further explanation was necessary; you understood the spontaneous mention of a trip to Fontaine. With a wistful smile and a tender kiss on his forehead, you agreed.

The following week, you left for Fontaine to personally wish Wriothesley a Happy Birthday, offering him companionship in his solitude for as long as you could.

What became apparent during that period, was that witnessing Al Haitham being his authentic self wasn't a rare occurrence in Wriothesleys presence.

Wriothesley had a knack for bringing vibrancy to your partner, whether through a spirited debate, an unfriendly competition, or the fact that Al Haitham's eyes had never been more devoid of his usual contentment with a mundane life. This was a side of Al Haitham you've only ever caught brief glimpses of beyond the walls of your home.

The bond threaded through the viscosity of blood coursing within their veins, knowing to most it was nothing more than a misinterpretation of their characters by the way they argued with their teeth bared and claws extended. They appeared mostly harmless. You prayed it would never escalate to physical tests of strength. A chuckle is prompted by the thought, returning you to the ongoing reality of Al Haitham and Wriothesley embroiled once more in their unending dispute.

"I don't see the need for you to be hovering," Al Haitham said. "If I wanted your company I would have asked, which in case you haven't gotten the jest by now, I don't really want"

"Al Haitham!"

Your partner's ears react to the cautionary tone in your voice, and swiftly, his head turns towards you. His eyes widen with innocence, and his demeanour dissolves, resembling a deer caught in headlights. The ongoing argument fades into oblivion, and even Wriothesley's presence is nearly erased as he shifts his focus entirely towards you.

"What?" He asked, oblivious to any issue with his earlier question.

"Could you go buy those spices you brought home last week? We've run out" It's not entirely untrue, but you simply crave a moment of peace from their conversation so you can hurry up the trip and return to the quiet solitude of your home and the warmth of your blankets, and considering Al Haitham is more responsive to your requests, you cleverly recall the need for spice and ask him to handle that quick errand while you wrap up the rest of your grocery shopping.

"Mhm," He murmured, exhaling deeply, placing a slow kiss on your cheek before moving on, going along with your tactic to separate him from Wriothesley who watches in amused bewilderment, hands placed at the top of his hips, "And here I thought I was a dog. You've got a good leash on him. Keep it that way"

"You should stop instigating him," You tell him, amusement glinting in your eyes and tugging on your lips, walking on. Leaving Wriothesley to follow along at his leisure.

"This is my sign to run along"

"Where are you going?" You tilt your head back to glance at him.

"I just remembered something, I'll be back in a bit, promise" In the blink of an eye, he vanishes, leaving you to continue on your way. When you finally reach the bustling Grand Bazaar, vibrant with crowds, you roam the markets and stalls, finding yourself engaged in conversation with Afshin, the travelling merchant, when your attention is abruptly diverted by a sudden commotion.

Across from you, a female merchant had fallen prey to a disgruntled customer, likely the source of the chaos unfolding. A table overturned, boxes strewn across the floor, their contents spilled and some irreparably damaged.

The young woman in her early twenties who stood ownership of the stall, gazed at her belongings before sinking to her knees, attempting to salvage the disarray.

Meanwhile, the customer and what you presumed to be his mercenary guards, hurled disparaging comments about the perceived inadequacy of her trade, their hands clasping the hilts of their swords as though perceiving the young woman as a clear threat.

A sigh escaped you, heart pounding with anxiety as you observed the unfolding scene.

"Give me a moment," You said, Afshin nodded in response, resuming the task of organizing the items on his table.

"Excuse me" Walking towards the occurring scene, you hesitantly intervened, drawing the glaring eyes of the customer towards you.

"This doesn't concern you. Take your nosiness elsewhere woman" He snarled in a manner that made you step back, nevertheless, you stood your ground and faced the Female merchant, offering her a reassuring smile.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Aniya"

"Aniya, what seems to be the problem?" You inquired, assessing the tables and the contents occupying them.

"This man claims my merchandise is not authentic after he has already inspected, bought, and paid for several pieces. Now he asks for a refund without returning the products"

"Look, I don't want no trouble lady" He exclaims, barely standing firm on his short stubby legs. "But if you just give me my money back I'll be on my way"

"What of my labour?! I've spent a good worth of time exploring and producing each of those carpets and materials by hand! You won't find such quality elsewhere for as cheap of a price as I've given!"

His face scrunched in anger, his guards stepping forward with a subtle signal. "If we can't reach an agreement you will pay the price"

"We won't come to an agreement if you refuse to settle your greed" You stated calmly.

The anger that exuded off him was not by any means intimidating, but the mercenaries that stepped forward at the ready, made you cautious.

The tension of the situation gradually grew and you were bordering on a violent reaction, that much you could easily tell given you've been a front-row witness to past events with both Al Haitham and Wriothesley.

As you feel yourself growing anxious, you positioned yourself protectively in front of Aniya, who, though a few years younger, was brimming with unrefined passion and working diligently. The youthful intensity in her gaze spelled trouble, yet it reflected such bravery and boldness altogether, truly embodying the spirit of a genuine merchant, and though it was admirable, it also meant there was no escaping the situation if the fiery spirit possessing her had any influence.

You breathed in steadily, gathering your hyperventilating thoughts and acknowledging your helplessness with Wriothesley and Al Haitham absent. Neither you nor Aniya were fully equipped for a direct physical confrontation, but perhaps, if you could stall them long enough, the result might not be excessively dire. The wisest choice now was to prevent provoking the man to the point that he sends those gruelling tattered mercenaries your way.

The argument─ though you wish not to call it that given you hoped to subdue the situation before it escalated, but with the feistiness of the young Merchant Aniya and the highly obnoxious and demanding customer by the distasteful name of Afif, nothing was going as planned.

Afif was a lord spoiled and rotten in both name and character. By nature, his manner of approach was enough to make your skin crawl and your throat tighten. You wonder who awaits him at home and how they endure such a man throughout their lives, considering you can hardly tolerate his attitude for even a few minutes.

They went back and forth without resolution, and each passing minute had regret swirling hefty within your conscience as neither of them backed down, the mercenaries themselves were growing antsy. With every breeze tousling your hair, it seemed like a word uttered by Afif left you feeling even more frustrated. He simply carried on spouting his nonsense of fair trade─ exposing himself as a hypocrite who disregarded the fundamental principles of fair trade.

In your mind, a silent prayer echoed, hoping for the return of either Al Haitham or Wriothesley.

These kinds of situations were precisely what you aimed to avoid, but your compassion couldn't tolerate witnessing Aniya's mistreatment, and unfortunately, because of it you landed yourself in such a predicament you could neither talk your way out nor pathetically apologize and walk away.

Meanwhile, Al Haitham was en route to the Bazaar when he coincidentally encountered Wriothesley who happened to be returning from his quick errand.

"Where'd you go" Al Haitham asked with a raised brow, causing the dark-haired Duke to pause and turn around, waiting for Al Haitham to catch up before continuing, now with him at his side.

"Look how you contradict yourself Haitham, went from claiming I was hovering to questioning my absence. Such a sweetheart─ truly" He flashed a lazy grin, revealing the pointed tips of his fangs that grazed his bottom lip.

"If you must know, Tea" He wiggled the bag mid-air for Al Haitham to see.

"I felt compelled to ask, not that I care much at all"

"You care enough"

"Unfortunately" Al Haitham muttered with a roll of his eyes, flexing the fingers of his free hand that wasn't holding the pack of spices you had asked him to fetch.

Upon entering the Bazaar, Al Haitham abruptly ceased his argument with Wriothesley. He lapsed into silence as he paused and scanned the area, allowing for his senses to come back to him.

He alongside Wriothesley took in the situation surrounding you and the menacing bodies enclosing your safe space. The ambience was palpable even from his current position.

Wriothesley glanced at Al Haitham who had already begun to pick up his pace and he followed suit.

If given the opportunity, Al Haitham would steer clear of any sort of situation that compelled him into social confrontations. He cherished solitude, finding no necessity for social interaction unless absolutely unavoidable.

He was a man of simplicity, content in silence until he met you, and suddenly, he found a liking for sharing that silence with you. In that regard, both of you shared a preference for confining yourselves within the familiar walls of home, avoiding expending energy on forced interactions.

Even when venturing outside, the dynamic persisted. Amidst a sea of people and bustling crowds, it was as if the world consisted solely of the two of you. Others might cast glances, but your attention remained fixed on the path ahead or each other.

Your ears seemed attuned exclusively to each other's voices, and your hands, not particularly fond of physical contact, found solace only in being held by one another.

But when Al Haitham caught sight of you standing there trying to convey strength through your expression, the subtle tremble in your fingers betrayed you and did not go unnoticed by him.

A cold chill ran down his spine and the sensation of blood draining from his body followed. With urgency, he briskly approached to be by your side, arriving just in time to see rough hands reaching out to seize you. Commotion and reactions stirred among the onlookers, who stood by passively, aggravating him further.

"There seems to be a problem here" Al Haitham intervened, his voice clear, monotone, and confident, arms hanging casually at his sides as he looms over the customer, whose posture shifts the moment he lays eyes on the unexpected presence of the Acting Sage.

Al Haitham's arrival brings instant relief to your anxiously furrowed forehead and your tensed shoulders.

"Acting Grand Sage" Afif mumbles with a touch of trepidation, his once gruesome expression fading entirely.

The tallest among the three mercenaries scowls in response to the sudden intrusion, displaying no fear or concern for Al Haitham in his demeanour.

It's evident that he harbours a strong desire to pummel the interrupter through those demonic eyes glaring at your lover's head. Had it not been for Wriothesley who announces his presence to you by offering a reassuring nudge to your shoulder, you'd have redirected your cowering gaze to the ground.

Wriothesley leans casually against the wooden beam of the market tent, arms folded with a smug air as he watches Afif and his Entourage of folks masquerading as combatants.

Afif squirms under the intimidating aura of both Al Haitham and Wriothesley and attempts to shift the blame, trying to implicate Aniya for supposedly intending to mislead him in the trade, alleging that she was dishonest about her products, as is often the case in trade within Sumeru lately. In this instance, it was not. Aniya's honesty mirrored her ambition to rise as a respected merchant, firm and true.

Afif's initial efforts were futile, and as he came to this realization, fear gradually morphed into anger.

"I don't owe any of you an explanation, this is between me and that deceitful merchant wench" He spat, instructing his mercenaries to seize Aniya. However, their unscrupulous nature led them to reach for you as well, a decision that likely proved to be their gravest mistake.

Standing beside you, Wriothesley, under the Scribe's approving gaze, shrugged and uncrossed his arms, rolling his shoulders back as the mercenaries lunged forward with snarls.

He was mindful of the limited space and wary of endangering you or Aniya and therefore employed small, sharp, and precise movements. He swiftly evaded a punch from the towering mercenary, causing him to stumble forward in the aftermath of his failed attack. In that fleeting moment, Wriothesley seized the flailing arm of his adversary and firmly clamped his other hand onto his shoulder, twisting it behind his back and rendering him effectively immobilized.

With a vigorous push, he forced the vanquished mercenary to his knees, a disgruntled groan of pain echoed. Simultaneously, the second mercenary, driven by rage and fiery eyes, charged forward, only to be skillfully tripped and sent tumbling to the ground, nursing a bruised ego.

Wriothesley applied the weight of his sturdy boot on the back of the second assailant, forcing his face into the ground. Meanwhile, the first attacker was restrained by his hair, ensuring both remained motionless and incapable of causing further trouble.

"Care to help?" He directed at Al Haitham, paying no mind to the third mercenary who tightly clenched his blade, casting nervous glances between Wriothesley, who effortlessly subdued his fellow mercenaries, his employer, and the aloof scribe who stood in front of you protectively.

The onlookers stared in astonishment at the unfolding scene. Aniya, her mouth agape in amazement, beheld the renowned Duke of Fontaine standing before her very eyes, and besides you, Al Haitham, the esteemed Acting Grand Sage of Sumeru, portrayed a grand demeanour, often misunderstood. She observed his protective stance in front of you and it brought a small smile to her face, recognizing the subtle expressions of love in those gestures. She watched them in awe despite feeling guilt for the entire situation being a result of her actions.

"You appear to be managing quite well without me" Al Haitham replied with a raised brow.

"Leaving me to do all the work, I see" Cracking his neck, Wriothesley awaited the concluding blow from the sole remaining mercenary.

"Classifying it as 'work' would be a stretch," Al Haitham emphasized, "Three mercenaries hardly pose a challenge for you, Your Grace."

Releasing the two mercenaries he held, both now unconscious, Wriothesley did so just as the final adversary staggered forward on unsteady legs. True to Al Haitham's assertion, Wriothesley effortlessly subdued the remaining threat by gripping the front of his shirt and hoisting him off the ground.

"I feel like I'm third wheeling," You remarked.

"Nonsense, Wriothesley just talks a lot" Al Haitham brushed aside, moving past you in the direction of Afif, narrowing the brief gap between them. With the situation now in check, the only task left was tending to Afif before you could all proceed on your way.

"I'm sensing a bit tension though" You teased, nonetheless.

"Really?" Pipes Wriothesley over his shoulder, "On a scale of 10, how good is our chemistry?"

"Can you not entertain this, Wriothesley" Al Haitham looks at you, "And no, there is nothing of the sort nor will there ever be"

"Why not?"

"I am perfectly content with the relationship I'm in," He says, and simultaneously, a metallic clinking sound captures your attention.

You glance towards the source of the sound and find yourself pleasantly surprised. Wriothesley notices the shift in your gaze and follows your line of sight. Al Haitham had grabbed the dangling pair of handcuffs on his hip, right under his nose, and placed them on Afif's hands, all while everyone's attention was absorbed in listening to your conversation rather than observing him.

"What the─" Wriothesley muttered, his eyes wandering to the metal restraints encircling the discourteous customer's wrists. A moment later, upon realization setting in, he checked his side, only to realize with surprise that it was indeed his handcuffs.

"Keep up" The smugness in Al Haithams voice could be heard even without looking at him.

"Well shit buddy, good luck trying to get those off" Wriothesley blinks, expression flat as he stares at his handcuffs knowing the only means of removing them lies in a key only accessible to him – a key that resided in the drawer of his cluttered desk all the way in Fontaine.

"So.." Wriothesley trails off looking around, "What do we do with them now?"

"Let's have them pay a visit to the General Mahamatra, I'm certain he'd know just what to do with you"

"This has no connection to the Akakemiya. I haven't breached any rules concerning it and therefore you have no right to detain me like this! It goes against my rights."

Wriothesley chuckled, bending eye level with Afif. "Your rights have just been revoked, Lord"

"I beg to differ. Would you like a detailed account of all your criminal activities?" Al Haitham undoubtedly possesses more knowledge than he let's on. He's not bluffing, and you wonder what kind of leverage your fiancé has on this insignificant Lord for him submit and cower so quickly.

Leaning in to whisper, he says, "Wouldn't want the Akademiya catching wind of your illicit knowledge exchanges, would we? Or perhaps General Mahamatra is already on the lookout for you, Khada'i. Your nose is in everyone's business, and because of that, I'll ensure you're buried. Now then," he pats his shoulder. Sweat accumulates on Afif's—rather, Khada'i's—face under the pressure of Al Haitham's words. "Sit quietly and await your end."

"You two are enjoying this" You shift your weight to your right leg, hand on your hip.

"Not in the slightest," Denies Al Haitham, while simultaneously, Wriothesley questions, "What gives you that impression?"

Shaking your head, you dismiss the two as the guards lead away the identity-deceiving lord into proper custody. You turn to Aniya once more, and she showers you with endless gratitude for your help and assistance. She expresses concern about what might have happened if you hadn't been there, especially with Afif sending his mercenaries after her, fearing what may have become of the situation then had you not stepped in. The recent situation had drained you entirely of your energy and though Aniya offered to repay you in any way she could, you politely declined, desiring only to be on your way and depart from the public eye, wanting nothing more than to be home with a cup of coffee and your bed.

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

#alhaitham #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham fics #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x female reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin fic #genshin oneshots #genshin fanfic #genshin x female reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact alhaitham #al haitam x reader #al haitham

[zenkindoflove]

"I want what Elain wants and she wants Azriel"

Is a claim I often see e/riels use to claim why they are "pro Elain" and implying that if you ship Elain with her mate because "she clearly doesn't want him" then you are anti Elain.

So yeah this whole post is why that's bullshit.

First let's get some things straight that we all can agree are facts.

1. Elain had a crush on Azriel. It's clear by their looks and touches and her showing body language that she wanted to kiss him in the bonus chapter. It's unclear whether that crush survived post her tears over his rejection and giving the necklace back as they had no canonical interactions post solstice.

2. Elain does not want to address the bond right now and avoids Lucien. Her feelings about Lucien specifically and what she thinks about the bond are unclear.

Now that we got that out of the way, the assertion that you are the most pro Elain because you ship her with Azriel is quite a stretch. I'm sure you like Elain, as do I, but you do not hold some moral high ground because of who you ship her with.

First, let's discuss the idea that you have to support who Elain wants. People can want all kinds of people who are not right for them for a lot of reasons. It's a common experience for many to want the wrong guy. To have a crush and think they're the best and it'll all work out only to have your heart smashed by the cruel reality that they were wrong for you or didn't want you the way you did. It's also common to hate your friends' boyfriends and husbands because they're assholes despite how much they "want" them.

People's feelings change. Feelings are fickle.

In SJM's canonical world, mating bonds are not.

It makes sense that Elain, after going through her horrible rejection by the man she actually wanted and loved, Graysen, would not be ready to face what having a mate means. I'm sure it felt like infidelity to her, especially if she does desire and feel a pull towards Lucien like every other female with a mating bond has in this series. Her avoidance of Lucien can mean a lot of things, including that she wants him even if she mentally isn't ready or feels she shouldn't.

It also makes sense that she would seek out and find herself in a rebound crush with someone who is in her proximity and is low risk. Azriel doesn't come with the pressure of being her fated soulmate. He's just a dude. A dude who is pretty and paid some attention to her.

So yeah, I get why she wants him. Doesn't mean I think he is right for her.

Why isn't he right for her? To make a long post short, Azriel often undermines Elain. He diminishes her need for help when she's clearly depressed (ACOWAR), and he speaks for her and directly contradicts her wants (ACOSF, scrying). He is entitled to her without merit (the third sister line, bonus). He ignores her wishes to avoid violence and wants to kill people who are important to her (wanting Graysen killed, saying he'd kill Lucien in a blood duel - we know canonically if a mate dies it is like losing half of your soul). He thinks very little of her past his lustful fantasies (bonus chapter) and even to the point of projecting his own self-hatred when he looks at her skin (bonus chapter). Elain is symbolic for him of the thing he covets most (a mate), and his crush on her is a manifestation of his psychological need to pursue unavailable females because of his self worth (friends who will never romantically love him or a female with a mating bond). Basically they are a recipe for a toxic relationship full of avoiding real personal healing.

So yeah sorry, even if Elain wants to kiss him I'm not shipping her with someone like that just because she "wants" it. I would rather see her have a story where she discovers who she is and what being Fae means to her, which means directly addressing not only her powers (hello let her scry) but also addressing her mating bond head on by getting to know the male that she will always have a pull to, no matter if she rejects the bond or not. Elain is a fictional character with a narrative arc. Her wants now will not always stay static.

For me, as someone pro Elain, I want her to give herself a chance at a forever kind of love, one with a soul to soul connection and an eternal devotion. I want her to experience that unconditional love she so desperately craves. I don't want to read her choosing just some regular dude who will probably drop her the second his mating bond snaps anyways. She deserves a mate. Even if she doesn't know or understand that yet.

And quite frankly, I think once Elain does learn not only who Lucien is but the way he thinks about her and how devoted he is to her and only her, she will want him soon enough. I don't ship for characters' frivolous crushes in the now. I ship for their potential with the right person. The person who will see them starving and depressed and worry about their well being rather than what their powers can provide them. Who will hear their vision and cross an ocean because they believe in it. Who will fight across a battlefield just to make sure they're okay. Who will even push down their own needs and wants to give them space because that's what they want right now.

You know what that means though. If you're pro-Elain for wanting what Elain wants, then Lucien is the most pro-Elain person there is. And why wouldn't he be? He is her mate after all, and he will do anything for her.

So yeah, that's who I want for Elain, and I think that makes me pretty pro-Elain too.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron #anti e/riel #anti azriel #pro elucien #elain x lucien

[regretmedaisy]

i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part I

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, very light foreplay (fem!receiving, clothes stay on), a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, mention of masturbation.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

words: 5.9K

More smut in part II

Part I: You brush past me in the hallway

She couldn’t recall when her obsession with Tom Riddle had started. Perhaps she had always felt that way.

She thought about him as she got ready for school, walked to breakfast or sat in the Great Hall to study, her heart fluttering every time his eyes wandered in her direction. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually looking at her - the fantasy was enough.

She felt herself blushing every time he walked past her in the corridors, her gaze sometimes daring, sometimes hesitant, careful not to look at him for too long in case he realised her feelings, but enough to not come off as completely indifferent. Just in case he felt the same.

She had become an ever-present shadow, one he could have moulded into whatever he desidered, as her heart, easily-fooled by an irresistible pretence that had shaped her passion and longing, didn’t know any other affection.

She ignored everything there was to know about him, as he only existed in her fantasy, beautiful and clever and mesmerising. She started following him everywhere: watching him as he sat reading in the courtyard, getting detention when he was the one supervising. 

They had once talked and he had smiled at her. Oh, what a moment that had been. She had laid in bed, her face in the pillow, giggling as her roommates asked her what had happened.

But she had never wanted him to know. She liked to dream about him but never expected him to make those dreams come true.

After they graduated school, she felt empty. Her fantasies were vacant of their predominant character and she had spent a few nights crying about never seeing him again, although she didn’t like to wander in that part of her memories that much.

Then, through a series of coincidences she liked to think were fate’s doing, she had gotten a job at the post office. 

She had been on her way to deliver a missive to Flourish and Blotts - a favour she did to the old owner - when he had walked past her.

Time had stopped.

She couldn’t hear or feel anything. Not the wind brushing through her hair and cooling her cheeks nor the jumbled chatter of the street. Everything was muted and still, except for him.

He was dressed in a tasteful black suit, his jacket buttoned, and his stride was long and confident. He stopped in front of the newspaper rack, picked one up, paid and left without a glance to her or anyone else. 

It was only when he had disappeared down the street that she had snapped out of it, realising she had been crumpling the letter in her hands.

Back in the office, she had discreetly asked Will - who had been working there longer than her - about him. He was almost certain Tom had been working in Knockturn Alley for a while and an errand in that part of the city had confirmed his presumption. 

The next day, as she was trying not to shout at a customer that if he wanted his package delivered to France in one day he could’ve delivered it himself, she had seen him walk by through the glass door.

And the next day as she was busy sorting through the deliveries.

And the next one again.

On the fourth day, she had taken her break around the time she had calculated he was going to pass by. She had to suppress her giddiness when she saw him.

Since then, she duly waited for him as he punctually went to buy his newspaper. 

“Isn’t it a bit cold to be outside voluntarily?” Will asked one day, standing up from his seat to return to the storage room as she went back inside. She hung her coat and scarf, fixing the collar of her jumper.

“I like the fresh air.” She sat down at her desk, getting back to her tasks. It had been an unexpectedly slow morning, leaving her time to write the report she usually needed to cram between customers. 

She leaned back against her chair, absent-mindedly twirling her quill between her fingers as her mind went back to the same subject that had filled her younger years.

Since that fortunate day of September, her infatuation with Tom Riddle had returned to burn like a wildfire, but it had also felt different. It wasn’t the childish crush of a teenager anymore, unbridled in her fantasies and hesitant in her action. It was a different type of fixation, more subdued, more restrained, perhaps more mature. He felt familiar and new at the same time, and she was content with watching him, appeased by his mere existence.

But lately she had felt the compelling need to to draw closer, to enter his orbit without actually being pulled in by it.

Those were desires she succumbed to during other times of the day. 

She anxiously drummed her fingers on the desk, her eyes urgently checking the clock as the man in front of her couldn’t bother to fill out his form. If she wasn’t going to do it today she wasn’t sure when she’ll find the courage again.

She hurriedly signed it as he handed it over and retrieved her coat.

“I’m going on break!” She didn’t even wait for Will to answer before stepping out in the street. 

She could feel her heart beating in her chest as she walked, her heels clattering on the cobblestones. Perhaps high heels weren’t a good idea, her legs felt less steady than she had anticipated. She adjusted the silk scarf around her neck and smoothed a hand over her curls as she went straight to the magazine rack.

Alright, she needed to stay calm and look relaxed. Nothing of importance was happening. She was just there to buy a magazine. 

She browsed through a few, incapable of actively reading the headlines since her mental capacity was too occupied waiting with him.

Minutes passed inexorably, her tension growing imposing until it exploded into a million butterflies the moment she noticed him. She didn’t turn, instead subtly moving in front of the stand where they sold his newspaper, pretending to skim, deep in thought. 

She could hear him walking closer until he was right next to her.

He was wearing his coat, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched to read the headlines. His presence was impossible to miss and became even more breathtaking when he scooted closer to her, his arm stretching out to grab a newspaper right in front of her. His side brushed against her arm and she couldn’t stop herself from taking in all she could. His scent, his warmth, the mere occasion of being so close to him. 

Her eyes moved to find his of their own volition. His expression was slightly surprised, like he wasn’t expecting her to consider him. He held her gaze for a second, his blue eyes glinting in her morning light, lively like she had only occasionally seen them.

He pressed his lips together and nodded to her in greeting, folding the newspaper under his arm before entering the store to pay.

She was breathless. The wind had picked up, biting against her cheeks that she knew must have turned flush. She forced herself to divert her attention, deciding on a crossword magazine just as he left the store. 

“Five letters, it starts with an S,” she read, “It can be found at Hogwarts.”

“Stars?” Will attempted, his voice muffled from the thud of some boxes he was moving.

It had been a few weeks since her last encounter (if it could be called that) with Tom. Since then, once a week she would dress more attentively and get to Flourish and Blotts in time to wait for him. She would choose a different magazine or newspaper every time, although crosswords were her favourite to waste her time between customers. 

She had come to the conclusion that one trip a week was enough to satisfy her persistent yearning without drawing too much attention to herself. The rest of the week she spent her break outside, unperturbed by the changing of the seasons and the chilly weather.

“Yes, because stars are a prerogative of Hogwarts,” she jested. She could hear Will grumble something through the open door that separated them.

“I think it’s ‘Squid’,” she said triumphantly, writing the word down. She held up the paper like she was reading it for an entire audience. “Next, it tells you the truth you might not want to hear. Eight letters.”

“Veritaserum!” Will enthusiastically suggested.

“That’s eleven letters. Honestly, did you even go to school?” It was like this every time, he would just throw out the first thing that came to mind. It was still funny, though. 

“Honesty maybe? No, it’s seven letters. Let me get the dictionary.”

Sometimes she wondered how he had managed to run the office alone until they had hired her.

“Synonyms with eight letters, let’s see.” She could hear him quickly turning the pages. Why did he have a dictionary in there she could not say.

“I don’t think it’s an-” She lifted her gaze as the doorbell chimed and her sentence got cut off by a sudden rush of heat that didn’t allow her to think clearly for a few seconds.

Tom Riddle crossed the threshold. He took off his leather gloves and turned down the collar of his jacket.

She was embarrassingly wide-eyed as he approached her desk.

“Hello,” he said.

She blinked a few times, trying to remember the customs of the society she got raised in. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” She gave him her usual bright customer service smile. Thank Merlin habits were stronger than feelings.

“I have a letter to post.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“Sure,” she said, her tone professional and experienced. “Just fill out this form, please.”

She offered him a quill and her eyes lowered on his long slender fingers as he skillfully gripped it. She could have watched him write all day, but instead pretended to be busy sorting through a cabinet.

Will came out of the backroom, holding his beloved dictionary. He gave Tom a tight cordial smile and set the dictionary in front of her, pointing to a specific word. “Morality”. 

She glanced quickly at Tom before focusing on Will.

“What does that have to do with the truth?” Her tone was an aggravated whisper. 

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but it has eight letters,” he whispered back. She held in the laugh that threatened to escape her as she looked at him. 

She gestured for him to leave before Tom reported them as unprofessional and turned to him as he handed her the signed papers.

“Thank you.” Why did her voice suddenly sound so shrilly? She cleared her throat, trying to regain some dignity.

She checked the address and noticed it was in England. “It will be dispatched with the afternoon owls and will probably reach your addressee by tomorrow.” She was not required to give him this information, but she just wanted to keep him there a little longer.

He nodded and smiled warmly at her. Butterflies bloomed again like flowers. “Perfect, thank you.”

“Have a good day,” she said. 

“You too.” He turned but then halted, like he had just changed his mind about something. “It's ‘Prophecy’ by the way.”

She frowned, confused on what he meant, until she remembered the crossword. “Oh, thank you.”

She watched him open the door and leave. And then watched him some more through the window as he returned to Knockturn Alley, something warm diffusing through her.

“I knew it!” Will's exultant voice broke her reverie.

She whipped her head around. “What?” By the way he was looking at her, his eyes gleaming like they had just witnessed the most engaging of gossip, she could guess exactly what he was talking about.

“When you asked all those questions I thought nothing of it, but you spend all your breaks outside, and it’s so windy in this part of Diagon Alley! I knew there was a reason. Especially after you started coming to work looking very lovely.”

“So, since I care about my look and spend my break outside, you deduced that…what exactly?

He leaned against the doors with his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow. His expression was so self-assured she knew she couldn’t deny her way out.

“Are you telling me you don’t fancy Tom Riddle? Because if I liked men I would definitely fancy him.”

“Don’t even start,” she sighed, covering her face.

If someone had told her years ago what would have happened in the next few weeks, she would have thought they had more imagination than her.

Aside from Will forcing her to buy another crossword, since the one she had chosen was part of some sort of divination conspiracy - his words.

“What does it have to do with the ‘truth you don’t want to hear’?” he had said. “Divination is just a scam, let me tell you.”

Tom had been coming and going from the post office. The response to his letter had arrived three days later and he had personally showed up to collect it.

She had always assumed that Riddle and the people he corresponded with had their own owl, but perhaps she had mistakenly presumed who he was exchanging letters with.

In school she had often dreamt of receiving a letter or a simple note from him, something to keep next to her bed and occasionally reread, wishing for things she didn’t have the courage to take for herself.

An insidious thought had crept into her mind after the first letter, instigating jealous feelings she had never felt. In school he had never shown interest in romantic liaisons, but his intentions could have changed since then.

The morning after, checking who he had sent the letter to was the first thing she had done once she had stepped into the office, professionalism be damned.

It was now a gloomy day, kept bearable by the prospect of talking to him.

“Good morning,” he greeted her as came in half an hour later, closing his umbrella and leaving it by the entrance. The sound of pounding rainfall on the street filled the silence. His coat was dampened around the sleeves and shoulders and his curls fell haphazardly on his forehead. “I believe you have something for me.”

She smiled at him. “Let me just get your letter, I think it arrived today.” She got up and reached for one of the shelves next to her. She knew he was coming today, so she had worn her nicest pair of work heels and a flattering skirt. Her curls had also turned out prettier than usual.

She perused the envelopes but didn’t find any addressed to him.

In the backroom, Will was reading a book with his legs crossed on the table. She searched through the newest delivery but couldn’t find it.

“Where is the letter?” she asked under her breath.

Will lifted his eyes from the page and adjusted his glasses. “What letter?”

“His letter, Will,” she hissed. “I saw it earlier.”

“If it isn’t there I don’t know what to tell you. Perhaps he switched up the dates.”

He noticed her accusatory expression and prudently held up his hands. “I’ll send a note to see if the owl got lost. Will that help you relax?”

Her features distended. “Yes, thank you. I’ll tell him to come by later.” 

“Did you ask if he wants tea as well?” 

She rolled her eyes laughing, relieved he wasn’t mad at her - she was feeling guilty for her unfair distrust - and went back to Tom, who was flipping through a brochure.

She threw him an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid we had some troubles with the owl carrying your missive.” 

She couldn’t read his face as he listened to her.

“It’s fine, I’ll return before you close.” He grabbed his umbrella, completely unperturbed.

“We are really sorry,” she said, resisting the urge to start chipping away her nail polish.

His eyes bore into her. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault.”

Lightning struck in that same moment, a blast of wind slamming against the windows as thunder made her swallow her redundant apologies.

“Let’s hope it will stop raining by then,” she mumbled more to herself, watching the raindrops fall quickly and heavily.

After lunch, Will brought her the envelope she had been desperately looking for. The paper was surprisingly pristine, not even a drop of water or a crease on it.

“It just arrived,” he announced with a wink.

“You’re telling me an owl flew with this rain?”

“I always told you I believe those animals have superpowers.” He shrugged and returned to his duties.

She stacked it on top of a pile of papers, smiling involuntary. She was embarrassed by herself.

An hour later, Will stepped out of the office with his coat and scarf on. 

“I’m leaving for today. Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked. Rain was still pounding on the glass. 

“You can go. Hopefully it will stop.” He nodded, retrieved his umbrella and disappeared among the flock of passersby. 

She glanced at the clock, wishing time could just run faster so that she could go home. The light had dimmed over the afternoon, engulfing the office in a dull atmosphere with drowsy undertones. She was drawing a flower on a piece of parchment when the bell chimed. She already knew who it was.

He gave her a small smile and her heart fluttered. 

“Here it is. The poor owl lost his way in this storm,” she said, holding his letter. He grabbed it and signed the usual form. 

"Are you always this accommodating?" he asked casually.

She felt her cheeks heat at the question as she cleared her desk. "It's my job."

"Do you live far from here?" 

She faltered as she was reaching for her coat and cleared her throat. 

"Why do you ask?" She followed his gaze to the empty umbrella stand. 

"Oh."

“I don’t mind escorting you home, if you’d like,” he said promptly. 

Was this actually happening? She was sure she had fantasised about something like this once. 

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” This was what she was supposed to say, right? 

“I insist.”

She surely wasn’t going to let him change his mind. 

“Alright, then.” She smiled coyly as he took her coat from her hands and helped her with it. His hands brushed on her arms in a gesture that was oddly intimate in the fading light of the office. He opened the door for her and waited for her to lock it. 

Around them people hurried to get to their destination, but she was in no rush. He offered her his arm and she took it, a little out of breath. She hid her hand in the crook of his elbow, hoping it would not betray her nervousness and gently guided him in the right direction.

“How was your day?” he asked after a few steps, just as nonchalantly as before.

“It was good, perhaps a little boring.”

“Do you enjoy working at the post office?” He turned his head, watching her with those rich eyes of his.

She shrugged lightly. “It’s better than other jobs, and I like my colleague.”

“I met him the other day. You weren’t there when I went to post my letter,” he explained in response to her surprised look.

“Oh yes, it was my free afternoon.” She couldn’t believe Will hadn’t told her about this.

Tom nodded as if it was a fact he wanted to remember.

“Do you like your job?” she asked, greedy for anything he wanted to share with her.

“It might seem strange but I do.”

“Where do you work exactly?” Not even Will had been able to tell her what it was that he did.

“Borgin and Burkes.”

“The antique shop?”

He chuckled. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

She mirrored his grin. “How would you describe it?”

“You can call it that if you’re into cursed music boxes and a wide selection of skulls.”

“Perhaps I am,” she replied foxily. “I’ll come and take a look one day.”

“Are you?” The inflection in his voice told her he didn’t quite believe her.

“You don’t really know me, Tom.” 

As her words were met with silence, she turned to him. She had never seen him look at her like that, his lips slightly curved and his eyes glinting with intrigue.

“So I gather Diagon Alley wasn’t in your ambitions?” he asked after a while. He must have seen her discomfort at his question because he immediately apologised.

“Don’t, please.” She put her free hand on his arm before registering what she was doing and he followed her motion as she composedly dropped it. 

“You’re right,” she said with a sigh, averting her eyes. “I don’t know what I expected from the future.”

“But?”

“But I suppose it could be worse.” That’s it, that’s all she had to say. No big dream everyone required her to have.

“You could make it better, you have endless possibilities to choose from.” He sounded so sure, but of course he was. He had the world in his palm and he could change the course of existence at every moment.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that’s true.” 

She steered him to the right to cross the street. They were now out of Diagon Alley, walking through the small inhabited island that separated Muggle London from the commercial area. He rested his arm on her back and respectfully pushed her away from the street, switching their places. She pretended it didn’t affect her.

“You could have had any job after graduation,” she pointed out. 

“I chose the one that I believed would give me more benefits.” 

“Did you choose correctly?”

He smirked. “I did.”

She wanted to ask more but didn’t dare and a comfortable silence fell between them.

She noticed Tom was extremely careful and observant. He tilted the umbrella to the perfect angle to shield her completely and moved to the side every time she needed to sidestep a puddle.

It was the first time she had had the opportunity to be close enough to him. His arm was firm and she could sense his warmth through the layers of his clothes. She thought of how good it would have felt to nestle against him.

It felt like something it wasn’t, an intimate routine, and she soaked in the moment. His body heat, the coarse wool of his coat against her hand, his soft breath, the pumping of her enamoured heart, the swaying movement of their figures as they walked, the raindrops hitting the asphalt.

She wanted to drown in it.

“We are almost there,” she announced, sadly noticing they were nearing her neighbourhood. 

“Do you live alone?” 

She nodded. “I used to have a roommate but then I moved to a smaller apartment. I enjoyed the quiet more.”

“I suppose you don’t have a lot of guests, then.”

“Will comes for lunch sometimes, he’s also alone.”

“And your other friends?” 

She hid her surprise at his question. She didn’t expect him to remember any details about her. 

“I hardly see them nowadays, we kinda lost touch over the years.” There was a soreness that couldn’t quite go away everytime she thought of the companions she drifted away from. No matter how hard she had tried to fight against the currents, there had been an insurmountable wave between them. Everyone said it inevitably happened with age, but no one ever talked about the solitude that it brought with it.

His finger grazed against her wrist, capturing her attention.

“Being alone isn’t always a curse,” he murmured.

“Are you alone?” She couldn’t remember a day when he wasn’t surrounded by his friends or admirers. She had always considered he enjoyed the attention of people hanging from his lips, but perhaps she had judged him wrongly. “Or do you still see your friend sometimes?”

His expression was clever as he answered. “The two things can coexist.”

She looked at him, ardently wishing she could figure him out. It was her torment, never quite managing to step into his field of attraction long enough to decode him, forever relegated to a bystander. Why was he telling her that? Why was he there with her? 

His profound eyes searched for something and the idea of being just as incomprehensible to him made her shiver. 

"Are you cold?" he asked.

She fiddled with the sleeve of her coat. "I'm fine. We are almost there." 

They walked the last few metres to her front door and stopped in front of a set of stairs. 

"Thank you for accompanying me." She didn't mention she could have easily apparated. 

"Don't mention it."

She made to step away from him but he hesitated to let go of her arm, his fingers lingering over her skin. She watched as he raised his hand to her face, tenderly brushing a loose strand away from her face, curling it with his finger. 

"Thank you," she said, her voice breathy.

His hand dropped and he stepped back. She didn't want him to go. 

"Do you want to come in?" 

She only processed what she had said after the words had left her mouth. Was she being improper? It was pouring and he had made her the courtesy of walking her home. The least she could do was to invite him in, it was a display of gracious manners. 

If she was worried he might have misinterpreted, he instead looked unperturbed. 

"I think it is best if I get back. It's getting quite late." 

She didn't show her disappointment. "Of course. Have a good evening." 

He returned her wish and waited until she unlocked her front door before leaving.

Within the cosiness of her home, she spent all night thinking about him. She replayed her whole afternoon while she was sitting in the bathtub, brushing her hair, making dinner. His feathery touch lingered like a phantom hand, the memory of his gaze followed her in everything she did, and, as she laid in bed, the ache of his rejection - that she knew to be insignificant - turned into fear she had ruined everything, a creature threatening to devour her as her mind grew tired and the night grew darker, the ticking of the clock an incessant reminder of everything she could crave but never have.

She looked at the dangling sign, the golden letters carved into dark wood, and entered the shop trying not to look at the stuffed fox by the entrance. 

The interior was just as sinister. She ignored an undoubtedly haunted portrait and passed in front of an array of body parts she was sure had belonged to Frankenstein at one point.

“Those are for the more eccentric customers,” Tom said, coming out of the backroom and spooking her. 

“I’m not going to ask what they need them for,” she replied with a nervous laugh.

He stopped to take something from a shelf and showed it to her. “I think you’ll like this more.” 

It was a wooden cube with a glass surface on the top. Inside there was a simple maze and a small marble. She took it and tilted it to the side, trying to make the ball roll forward. The light reflected on the glass and when she looked again the puzzle was different and the marble was in the opposite angle. She inclined it a few more times and the maze kept shifting repeatedly.

“How am I supposed to finish this?”

“It is designed to create a sequence. You have to understand the pattern to know where the marble will be everytime and move accordingly.”

“If I don’t go mad first.”

Tom pressed his lips in an amused smile as he took the cube back and placed it on a random shelf.

She lost herself in his mesmerising gaze as he drew closer like a shadow. The tension between them was tauter.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said, his voice a smooth whisper.

“I told you I was coming to take a look,” she replied, her lips expertly curling into a sweet smile.

“Is that all?” He stretched his arm to remove a speck of dust on the shelf to her right, enclosing her between his body and a ladder leaning against the bare wall.

She tried to remain poised as she took something out of her purse. “This came for you.”

He took the letter with a frown, turning it in his hands to read who sent it.

“Who writes to you?” She already knew there was no name on the envelope. She wondered how the sender had managed to mail it.

“I’m just as clueless as you are.” He carefully ripped the paper as she stared at him wide-eyed. He read the signature at the bottom of the message and folded it back, putting it in the pocket of his jacket.

Of course he knew, it was obvious she wasn’t able to mind her own business.

“Who do you imagine writing to me?” That captivated gleam lit up his eyes again.

“Malfoy looks like a prolific writer.”

“But Malfoy always signs his letters.” 

“Is there someone in your life that prefers to remain a secret?”

She shuddered as he trailed his fingers down her arm, gently holding her wrist. “Like a secret liaison?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Is there anyone?” There was no turning back after this.

His fingers brushed against hers and she let out a small sigh. She didn’t miss his pleased smirk as he stepped forward, her figure moving back until she rested against the wooden rungs of the ladder. They were standing behind a wall that hid them from any peering eyes, concealed by the shadow’s silhouette.

“Perhaps there is,” he murmured, taking her handbag and setting it down. “Perhaps I should reply to her promptly.” He started to slowly unbutton her coat. She could not take her eyes away from him.

“But the fact is, I am not sure what I should tell her.” He locked his eyes with hers and got down on his knees. Her breath hitched in her throat.

She stared down at him, her stomach knotting as a familiar yearning pervaded her. She had thought of him in that position, she had wanted him like this. Her heart was thundering.

“How do I fit in all of this?”

“Perhaps,” he said, holding her calf to push her foot on the first rung, “you could advise me.” She followed his movements until she was propped on the first step and grabbed the ladder, watching him. 

“You could start by writing what you like about her,” she suggested. He started massaging her ankles, his hands slowly drawing over her nylon tights from her heel straps to her calves.

“I like her beauty,” he replied with ease, tracing his finger over her seam on the back of her leg.

“I wouldn’t start like that.”

“How so?” He looked amused as his hands reached below the hem of her skirt and he brushed his lips over her knee.

“You will never win her over if she thinks you only appreciate her for her beauty.” Her lips parted as he looked up at her, strikingly handsome, and she ran her fingers through his hair, feeling the texture of his curls. They were softer than she had expected.

“What should I tell her, then?”

“Do you see her often?”

“Not as often as I’d like.”

“You could mention the small details of her person that you miss.” He languidly pushed up the fabric of her skirt, exposing her tights. 

“Like what?”

“Like the way she does her hair or how she holds her quill as she writes. Or something that made you think of her.”

“You do like the details,” he muttered, more to himself than her, looking transfixed as he hooked his finger into the band of her stockings, giving her the physical contact she had painfully craved.

“What about her intelligence?”

She nodded and tried to swallow but her throat was parched. “That too. Are you impressed by her?”

“I am. She looks remarkable.”

“Could she rival you?”

He smirked and undid her garter, tugging the nylon partially down. “I’m waiting to find out.” He pressed his lips onto her skin, kissing her bare leg. She brought her head back against the hard rung, letting out a whimper she didn’t want to contain.

His lips were slightly chapped from the cold weather but his breath was warm as he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over her scorching skin. Her hand found his hair again, pulling it as sweet breathy sounds came from her lips.

He focused his attention on her other thigh, digging his fingers into her flesh like a starving man and pressing his mouth harder into her skin. 

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. There was so much she wanted now. It was urging, impossible to ignore. She was looking down the edge of the precipice, unable to tear the gaze away from the looming danger. Someone was behind her threatening to push her. She was sure it was Tom.

As he kissed the inside of her thigh she felt the need to tug his head further up. He was hers for a moment, one secret moment, surrounded by a still silence that could not betray them.

He grazed his teeth over the sensitive spot and bit softly, hiking up her skirt and her suspender belt with an urgent motion. She gripped his hair tighter, ready to lead him where they clearly both wanted to be. 

She shifted her weight, the wetness between her legs so pressing it was becoming uncomfortable. 

“Tom,” she breathed as his hand gripped her waist and his lips reached right under the crease of her tight.

“Tell me what you desire the most,” he murmured, bending her knee and putting her foot one rung up to gain better access.

You.

She couldn’t tell him that. She would have never told him that, yet she was sure he already knew. Perhaps he had always known, and he had savoured each furtive glance and each stolen detail preparing for this moment. 

The thought was less mortifying than expected.

“Right now I just want-”

The bell chimed, followed by the creaking of the door opening. Tom immediately got up, letting go of her leg and concealing her with his figure until she made herself decent again. Then he scurried to assist the new customer.

She collected herself and pretended to scour the shelves for a while, waiting for the flush on her cheeks to fade and for her heart to slow down. Tom’s eyes met hers as she left, carrying anticipation and a promise.

As her hands dipped between her legs that night, she wondered if he was doing the same. 

Afterwards, questions crowded her restless night. Had he always known what their encounters were going to lead up to or was he just as surprised?

He had been hers for one long burning moment. She yearned to touch him again and she knew he desidered the same, to protract those flames until skin glowed and flesh smoked, until he could squeeze her beating organ. But how long was it going to last until he decided to crush it?

sorry for the cockblocking.

#tom riddle x fmc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #harry potter #hp fanfic

[paraliveimaginesblog]

hi love, can i request kiss prompt 15 with iori?

Iori Suiseki:

15. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

Iori had tried his hardest to resist temptation.

The shape of your lips, the way they looked pillowy soft, it left him curious about what you might taste like. He sees them in his dreams, smiling at him, your tongue darting out to sweep over your lower lip and leaving him with a desperate need to know what it felt like to have your tongue running over his skin. He would be content without a kiss, just the ability to run his fingers along your lips, eyes locked on yours as you allowed him to touch you however he wanted. A fantasy was a fantasy, and normally he was good with compartmentalizing parts of his life to not bleed over into his reality, but this particular daydream was becoming dangerous.

You returned his feelings and he knew as such. He had ignored them, denied them, denied his own, yet it had only made his affection for you grow stronger. You didn’t have the same hesitance as him, flirting with ease, looking at him like he was the sun when you were the brightest star of them all. It made his heart ache to know he was denying you for his own good, not just worried about your well-being but wondering if he even knew how to be a proper partner.

Iori was suffering from a moment of weakness, his dreams plagued with your presence the night before. All he could think about was you, little giggles slipping past your lips as you rubbed noses, your fingers intertwined which was nothing compared to the intimate position you were in. It was killing him to remember it in great detail, knowing that it wasn’t a truth no matter how real it felt to him. He thought focusing on other tasks might help but, as his life was often like a running joke, you entered his office just as he thought he might be rid of it.

He can’t remember who made the first move, though it was likely him finally having enough of your teasing, but he has you pinned to the wall as you looked at him with half-lidded eyes. You’re not making any moves but he supposed he deserved that, to be the one to put himself up on the chopping block with the potential for rejection.

His lips are gentle on yours, giving you room to turn away from him if you didn’t want it. He’s searching for an answer to his earlier question, applying more pressure, lips moving in tandem with yours as you get used to the electricity that shoots through your body each time he deepened the kiss. Your heart feels tight in your chest as he pulled away, wanting to whine and demand he kiss you until he’s the only thought in your head.

“Me and you… something could go horribly wrong here, you know?” You think he’s dramatic, or overthinking it, but you had known to keep those thoughts to yourself. Pushing Iori to do anything was only going to inspire rebellion, but allowing him to come to his own conclusions was the true way to victory. You weren’t aware of how much your very image haunted him but it worked in your favor regardless.

“But I need you, Iori.”

There’s something in his brain that snapped, that final cord tethering him back from completely devouring you now gone. You’re surprised when he crushed his lips against yours, his hand on your neck as he beckoned you closer, urging you to return the intensity. You do so tenfold, fingers running through his hair, a quiet whimper escaping you as Iori’s teeth dug into your bottom lip enough to leave a temporary mark.

He soothed the wound with the gentleness you knew he was capable of, tongue running along the indent of his teeth in a quiet apology. You had tempted fate by allowing his frustrations to build up like this so it was only natural you got burned, but with how good it felt to be on the other side of Iori’s fierceness…

Your teasing might not be coming to an end quite yet.

#Paradox Live #Paralive #Paradox Live x Reader #Paralive x Reader #Paradox Live Imagines #Paralive Imagines #Iori Suiseki #Suiseki Iori #Iori Suiseki x Reader #Scenario #Kiss Prompts

[rkmoon]

Song of the Heartless - Coming to you May 4, 2024!

That's the date I'm gonna start serializing it on @project-heartless-serial!! Follow and turn on notifications if you'd like?

If you like: *A primarily aromantic cast being unapologetically aro (aspec identities galore!) *a generous sprinkle of body horror and action *focus on a queerplatonic relationship between the MC and their partner *an egg getting cracked and the exploration thereof (if you know you know) *found family *fighting monsters *fighting against an oppressive system *a rainy atmospheric setting

Then you will enjoy this book!

Further details and a sneak peek of the prologue under the cutoff:

Working Title: Project Heartless Genre: Queer, Dystopian Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Horror Length: 118K Tag: #projectheartless

The Heartless are empty of morals– just as nonexistent as their heart. That was what Rainier Sandoval had been taught at an early age. As an Inner City dweller, the barbarism in the Outer District, where the Heartless thrived, was hard to imagine. But when his own heart was stolen and crushed on his twenty-fifth birthday, he was exiled to that very place, forced to see for himself. He had thought he was prepared, but the expectations were so horribly different from the reality. Conspiracies were afoot, and the more he stayed in Outer District, the more he realized he had been lied to his entire life.  The monsters he was taught to fear might be Angel City's only hope against threats lurking beyond its borders. In a twist of fate, they might also be Rainier's only hope against his own inner demons.

Prologue

Anger. Pain. Anger. Fear. Anger. Hurt. Pain. Hurt. Scream. Anger. Anger. Anger. Anger. ANGER. 

No…

It couldn't think. It felt. It writhed. There was so much pain. Pushing it together. 

Its mind was screaming. Its mind was filled with voices. So many people crammed in such a small space. Like a box filled to the brim with half-dead corpses. Anger bubbled inside, never-ending. 

It didn't know why. All It knew was the Anger. All It knew was the Pain. From the distance, It could hear a mournful cry. Like a child begging to die. It made the Anger rise, overwhelming. The collective indignance of a thousand souls. It Hurt. It Hurt. It Hurt.

So it ripped. Blood poured out in rivulets. It wanted more. It craved. It hungered.

It felt flesh tear in its hands, but It could not see. It felt blood flow down its arms, but It didn't have any. It heard screams echo inside its head, but there was also someone outside, gasping. Begging. Gurgling.

Screams from the inside. Screams from the outside.

"Rowan!" 

"Stay in formation, Will!" 

"No— ROWAN!" 

"It's coming! Duck!"

"It's too late for him, stay back!" 

It heard it. It heard them. Anger surged, so It raged. It fought. But It also wanted to see. It knew It was but a mere voice in the sea of consciousness, but It wanted to see. It wanted to know. The fear that those voices let out, the tremble in their pained gasps. It wanted to know.

Am I the one hurting them?

But the Anger, oh, the Anger — it was all-consuming. It was so filled with Hurt. They were hurting It. In the distance, the Child was weeping. Begging for the torture to end. The Anger won't stop until the Child was set free. But it had been so long. It's been so long, and It wondered what was the point, what was It doing, was throwing back all of this hurt and pain and agony worth it— 

It wanted to rest. Because it hurt. Being pressed together like this, it hurt. 

We must, we should, we are stronger together, we must destroy, we must avenge, we must save, THEY HAVE NOT LEARNED THEIR LESSON— 

"Rowan! No!"

So It kept tearing. It kept killing.

It will not stop.

"No!" A sob. It niggled something inside it. Even as its brethren whispered, even as they jeered and cheered and wanted and laughed and reveled in their cruelty — It heard, and it didn't feel right because the cries, the sobs, the tears— 

Isn't that also just a child?

So It climbed, It groped the others. It tore through their consciousness as it tried to get a grip. It wanted to see. It wanted to know. It wanted to See.

It doesn't matter, the others whispered. We are killing. We are avenging.

No.

It pushed everything away. It felt the body moving, it felt the body going for the kill. It felt the body fighting against someone. It couldn't control it, but It persisted. Because It didn't feel right. Because It wanted to See.

It gasped as It got control of the eyes. It opened them for the first time in centuries.

And It saw... a young man, no more than sixteen, looking at It as if It was death personified.

Because It was.

KILL KILL KILL KILL

NO.

Its hands were wrapped around the boy's throat. And It couldn't help but think about life leeching out of the boy's brilliant green eyes. 

The boy, the young man, was a human. 

It blinked. Memories in the back of Its head surged through its shattered fragments like a fog. 

Wasn't It human, once? 

What did it mean... to be human?

#projectheartless #writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writblr #writers #aromantic #aroace #aspec #queer writing #bookblr #bookworm #books and reading #books #bookish #reading #booklover #queer #queer community #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #pin

[mxtxfanatic]

Book of the Week: The Villain has Something to Say

Author: Mo Chen Huan (莫晨欢)

Genre: cultivation, rebirth, transmigration, danmei

Rating: E

My Synopsis: If you’ve ever thought to yourself “man, I wish wwx really had killed all those annoying cultivators at Nightless City,” then boy do I have a book for you! A mix between 2ha’s Mo Ran and mdzs’s Wei Wuxian, main character Luo Jianqing has double the trauma and double the hate as the heavens’ literal least favorite child: the villain! Watch as he defies fate by being reborn, immediately scheming to kill the transmigrator protagonist (the heavens’ actual favorite child), and trying to uncover what went so wrong in his first life as to cause his shizun and secret crush, Xuan Lingzi, to sign off on his death.

My Actual Review: Ok, so usually I absolutely hate when I read reviews that compare random danmei novels to mxtx works as a selling point, but Luo Jianqing really does give Wei Wuxian vibes in how charismatic he is, his personality, and his behavior around Xuan Lingzi, once they get together. Before that, though, he gives a lot of Mo Ran 1.0 as he tries to deal with the hurt of betrayal in the face of his shizun who he thinks hates him but also would obviously not remember said betrayal since it, for all intents and purposes, never happened. Despite all this, though, Luo Jianqing still feels like a unique character, and the story develops into a unique plot where the characters are trying, for the sake of the fate of the world, to rebel against the will of the heavens that has decided that only one (1) person deserves the entirety of all the good fortune in their entire reality, past and present.

I’m adding some content warnings for: grooming (maybe???), incest (maybe???), attempted sexual assault, and some slight dubcon between the main couple due to an aphrodisiac that doesn’t go all the way. However—and I say this knowing full well that it probably won’t make sense if you haven’t read the book—the first two content warnings for this book don’t really have… content? For instance, yes there is incest in the book, but it consists of a character constantly mentioning it to make the main pairing feel better about their “incestuous” shizun-disciple relationship. When you meet said incestuous characters, nothing about their interactions connote a romantic or sexual relationship. The incest reference could be removed and nothing about the story would change. Same about the grooming: for most of the story, we go into detail about how Luo Jianqing was raised by another disciple—which is vital information about his relationship with said disciple—the main pairing don’t get together until he’s 50, and before that, their relationship is completely chaste as far as we’ve seen. But then the author throws a random curveball near the end about the LI being in love with him “from before” he was 17. There is no character conversation about this. It is referenced nowhere else ever again. It could be wholly removed from the story and nothing would change. Take from that what you will.

Pretty sure the translation I read—though complete—was an mtl. Everything was still understandable, and I was able to get through it while still enjoying the plot and characters, but the constant grammar mistakes were annoying.

Translation: incomplete but currently updating

#human promotes #the villain has something to say #and he sure af says it! #love this book to bits #i simply choose to remove that ‘I’ve always loved him’ bit from my brain #it does not exist #wholly unnecessary addition #it’s like the author woke up one day and realized the dynamics weren’t ‘toxic BL’ enough for them #wild af #otherwise a solid book tho #love going back and rereading the massacre arc #and imaging this is nightless city smh

[thelarriefics]

MAGICAL REALISM FIC REC: Below you’ll find fics that have magical elements to them that blend fantasy with reality in their own ways. 

📖 Three Days in February by @mercurial-madhouse (187k)

How close is too close? Harry and Louis are about to find out after a drunken night leaves Louis cursed. With only a week before tour starts, the race is on to fix things before they lose Louis forever. Oh, and Harry has to keep his long-time crush on Louis a secret while the lad can literally hear his thoughts. Easy, right?

Featuring ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

📖 hymn for the wretched & divine by @wlwmermald (126k)

Death loses a bet with a mischievous and lively mortal by the name of Louis Tomlinson, who loves his old cat too much, the price being he must unconditionally befriend Louis. Death ends up getting more than he bargained for.

📖 Si Pudiera Volar by by @softfonds (69k)

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazón Salvaje.

📖 Take on Me by @haztobegood (60k)

Actor Harry Styles is preparing for his next leading role as Antonius the Gladiator with the help of Louis Tomlinson, Hollywood’s top stunt coordinator. When the demands of Harry’s career get in the way of their training, the pair head to a secluded cabin to complete their training. Then, Louis begins to share senses with Harry. What is causing this mysterious connection and can Louis and Harry figure out how to stop it before they leave the cabin?

📖 Driftwood by @justanothershadeofblue (51k)

Eroda was all Harry knew. He lived there all his life, but he always knew he was peculiar. He had dreams that go beyond this small, cold, and lonely island. He wanted to leave; he HAD to leave. But that meant leaving Louis...

Harry is a lonely and depressed popstar who sailed out of his hometown on Eroda years ago to chase his dreams. He comes back to the island only to find his shining childhood best friend Louis just as cold and dreary as the island they grew up on.

📖 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie (46k)

Everyone is chasing, searching, dreaming of their soulmate.

Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. The unexpected passing of Louis' mum, and the fact that now he is the guardian of his twin two-year-old little siblings, just means that Harry is going to have to wait a bit longer.

A soulmate AU full of cute kids, house building, therapy, and a lot of dreaming.

📖 Soul of the Sea by @vurdoc (32k)

Louis lives a nomadic lifestyle. Never settling down in one place for long, he finds himself caught in a storm, as he’s passing through a small Scottish seaside town.

Everywhere is full, except the old B&B perched up on an isolated hill near the coastline, where the recluse owner isn’t what he seems.

Then again, who really is?

A fic about belonging, supernatural beings, and finding your own home.

📖 Fate & Chance by @zanniscaramouche (31k)

Haunted by his own ghost, the Duke von Tomlin fears for his safety and sanity as the days tick down to his certain engagement with the Crown Prince of Vienna. Meanwhile the travelling magician Hassenheim takes residency in a well established theatre, drawing mass crowds with his awe-inspiring illusions. Is it fate or chance that entwines their paths?

📖 The Honeycomb Bed and Breakfast by @daggerandrose (8k)

“I’m sorry, but where did we land?” He asks one of the flight attendants when he reaches the door.

“We’re in Bucharest.”

It takes a minute for Harry to process the location. “Romania? I was supposed to go to Rome, not Romania! How does that happen?”

or the one where Harry's work trip to Italy makes a tiny detour to Bucharest, Romania and he has to find a place to stay.

📖 i was at an all night diner by @yoursongonmyheart (5k)

"I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine."

//or, the one where none of the boys can sleep and they all meet at a diner where it's always 3 a.m.

📖 The kaleidoscope of your eyes by @greenblueish (4k)

They are greeted by a young, handsome man in his late twenties, dressed in wide black trousers and a purple silky dress shirt. Usually Louis is quick to judge such daring pieces of clothing, as this colour in particular can easily look like a cheap Halloween costume imitation of a computer game character, but at this sight, he can think of no criticism. Except that there’s no way in hell that this man has the medical knowledge to cure his neighbour’s tumour.

or, the one where Harry, disguised as an alternative practitioner, uses his magic to cure people's health issues and Louis doesn't believe in the faith healer until he meets him himself.

📖 'Cause I Just Wanna Feel Alive by @goldenkinglouis (3k)

“Oh, cheers, mate, but I don’t do dates.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you–” he waved vaguely.

Louis shook his head. “No, it’s just… been too long for me.”

“And how might I convince you otherwise?” Harry asked, his eyes glistening under the lights.

OR: Louis is a lost, lonely vampire. Harry is the witch who brings him home.

📖 Just a little taste by @lunarheslwt (3k)

Harry is a vampire that comes home one night, grappling with the darkness that comes with being one. Louis offers him unwavering love, acceptance and the one thing he needs but is reluctant to ask for; permission to bite for the sake of comfort and safety seeking.

📖 all was golden in the sky by @daydreaming-sunflower (1k)

The Sun and the Moon are in love.

#masterpost #1dsource #hljournal #hlcreators

[free-for-all-fics]

The Craft and The Lost Boys crossover prompt! This was inspired by a dream I had. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of the ideas below and I’d love to read it! ❤️🩸

You fall in with a group of witches after you witness Nancy Downs murder your brother, Chris. She threatens you to keep quiet about it or else. The witches don’t welcome you into their coven but you learn the hard way that there are worse fates than death when you’re still forced to hang out with them. They can’t risk you exposing their secrets but if they killed you, especially so soon after your brother’s death, it’d look too suspicious. The only witch you like and get along with is Sarah Bailey; she’s different from the other outcasts at school. She’s a natural born witch and is much more powerful than the others but maybe hasn’t realized it yet. Nancy is power-hungry, lacks empathy and often engages in reckless behavior that endangers herself and others, Bonnie is aggressively narcissistic, and Rochelle is bitter and vengeful. The three of them start abusing their powers and misusing their magic. Unlike them, Sarah is really sweet and has a lot of self-control over her powers. She treats you like a friend and has your back despite the circumstances.

You’re dragged into joining them on a girls trip to Santa Carla - the murder capital of the world! By the time you get there, it’s night and the boardwalk is crowded and bustling with many attractions such as tattooers, piercers, shops, rides, music, and more. Performing on center stage is The Lost Boys, one of the hottest rock bands in the country, fronted by Michael Emerson. He and his band members are local heartthrobs; They’re all devilishly handsome and talented young men who seem to have it all. Their stage presence is incredibly sexy and alluring, almost provocative with how they love to strip and tease during their sets. The way they dance and move to their frenetic music is almost hypnotic. Word on the street is that Michael replaced the former vocalist shortly after he moved here with his mother Lucy and little brother Sam. He’s always seen hanging out with The Lost Boys after dark, especially David.

You have such a huge crush on Michael at first sight but who doesn’t? While watching him perform, you feel as if his eyes are piercing straight through your soul and he’s singing only to you. But c’mon, who are you kidding? The thought that he’d notice you out of the hundreds in the crowd is pure fantasy. But maybe that fantasy has a chance of becoming reality when you slip away from Nancy and her fellow witches (possibly in part thanks to Sarah causing a distraction and/or covering for you). You catch the attention of boardwalk security guards and try to explain you witnessed your brother’s murder and need help, but there’s been so many murders in Santa Carla they’ve become desensitized to it. It’s the murder capital of the world, kid. Have you not seen the missing posters littered everywhere? When you mention witchcraft, they laugh in your face and assume you’re on drugs and making shit up. They ignore you and walk away before you can even tell them the murder didn’t take place in this city. God fucking dammit.

Michael overhears your plight and is willing to help you get back at Nancy for what she did to your brother. While talking to him, you keep nervously glancing over your shoulder as hairs raise on the back of your neck from the feeling that the witches may be waiting nearby and closing in on you. Michael notices how scared and uneasy you are, so he offers to take you somewhere private where you won’t be disturbed. You know you shouldn’t hitch a motorcycle ride with a man you just met and let him take you to an unknown location in an unfamiliar city that’s the murder capital of the world, Stranger Danger and all that, but fuck it.

You meet David, Paul, Dwayne, and Marko at their cave. They’re practically Michael’s brothers and welcome you to the club (even if they pull pranks on you and mess with your mind a little bit with their vampire powers before Michael tells them to knock it off.) They urge you to spill and tell them all the deets about what’s going on, so you tell them everything about the absolute hell you’ve been through because of Nancy and her outcast witch friends. After listening to your story and deliberating quietly amongst themselves, they agree to take care of the witches for you so they never bother you again. Do you want them dead or alive, babe? Do you want them to be scared to death or just plain scared so that they leave town forever? You tell them to spare Sarah since she’s your friend and respects the laws of magic. While she put that love spell on Chris that went awry and inadvertently played a part in his death, it was an accident on her part and she didn’t mean any harm. She just wanted to be loved. She regretted her actions and tried to find a way to undo her spell on Chris, but failed. But the rest of the witches are fair game for the boys to do whatever they want.

Hell fucking yeah, this calls for a toast! They pass you an ornate wine bottle and tell you to drink up, baby! It’s been a very long night for you. Hell, you’ve had several very long nights ever since your brother’s murder. You haven’t really had time to mourn him before now. You could really use a drink, so you chug from the bottle without even thinking about it while the boys applaud and cheer. Unbeknownst to you Michael and the Lost Boys are vampires, and you’re Michael’s mate. Vampires are immune to witches’ magic since their hearts are no longer beating and thus can’t be swayed - but witches are not immune to vampire mind tricks since they’re still technically human, living and breathing. Their flesh tears from their bodies just as easily as ordinary humans, and there’s no protection or warding spells against vampires - so feeding from them should be easy. They’ll come up with an insidious plan and help you get retribution for Chris’ wrongful death.

You might regret letting the boys do whatever they want to Nancy and her friends after you learn the full extent of their true nature, but it’s too late to take it back now. The deal has already been struck. In just a few days, you won’t be human anymore either. Michael will be there for you when you begin to change into a half vampire. It’s painful and confusing; your heart feels like it’s on fire, your lungs feel like they’re filled with water, you feel like you’re dying - because you are. He’ll comfort you (possibly with sex) and teach you everything. David, Paul, Marko, and Dwayne will help you too. Maybe Nancy or one of her witch friends will be your first meal. You’ll need to feed to complete the transformation and become a full-blooded vampire. Have you ever had witches’ blood, baby? It’s a rare delicacy but is absolutely delectable. It just hits different than regular human blood. It’s to die for, literally!

#the lost boys x reader #michael emerson x reader #the craft #nancy downs #sarah bailey #rochelle zimmerman #bonnie harper #Chris Hooker #the lost boys and the craft crossover #crossover fic #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #pls tag me if you write this #i’d love to read it #random fic ideas #fic ideas #random prompt

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

May I be so mumble as to suggest Nanami having the biggest crush on a plus size coworker? 🥺 💕 Just absolutely head over heels into plush breasts and thick hips and getting frustrated at her bra hooks getting stuck on her sweater while running his hand up her skirt. Slowly losing his composure as she teases him and kisses his neck whispering sweet nothings into his ear to tease him further as the heat grows between them 💞

Oh, honey, you give Kento too much credit. The man would barely be able to speak to you, let alone do something as scandalous as running his hand up your skirt.

But he does imagine it, what it'd be like to touch you, or to even be near you.

───────────────

He was a bit floored when you first started working at the office. To start, not a lot of women worked in the accounting field, so he was a bit surprised when you arrived. Not only that: he was also astounded at how lovely you were. Ample chest and plush hips, protruding belly and thick thighs—Nanami didn't know what to do with himself when he first saw all of you. He felt like he had walked into a Baroque painting, your body something out of a dream.

But he kept his distance. He was polite, as any senior worker should be, giving advice when asked and helping you as best he could, but he didn't go too far. He didn't let himself indulge in any fantasies at first, keeping himself tethered to reality. You two were coworkers, nothing more, nothing less.

Oh, but you made it so hard for him to stay strict and stoic. You kept smiling so sweetly at him, thanking him for his help, offering to repay his kindness with homemade treats. You were always greeting him with a wide grin in the mornings, offering to get him a coffee while you got your own. You made him feel warm and comfortable, breaking down the walls he had carefully crafted over the years.

Nanami was starting to realize his growing feelings for you, his heart starting to pound harder whenever you were around. He felt like a teenager, his hands getting clammy when you were too close, his throat going dry the longer you stood near him, your perfume ingraining itself into his memory. He thinks about your scent the rest of the day and into the evening, the thought of you keeping him up at night.

Shortly after he realizes how much he likes you, he starts to notice your body even more. Your soft, delicate hands, your endless curves, the plumpness of your jaw. He finds himself wondering how soft you really are, how your body would give underneath his touch, so much of you to caress and hold. Did your skin feel like cotton sheets? Would your lips feel like rose petals, the baby hairs on your cheek reminding him of a fresh peach? He wishes he could be bold and ask you out for dinner, hell, even grabbing a coffee together would do. He just wants to get close to you, learn more about you, become a part of each other's world. Would you want that too? Would you let him hold your hand and kiss you, steadying you with a hand on your waist? Would you let him explore every inch of your body, letting him kiss and lick and suck every crevice he can find? Would you moan his name and beg for him if he was buried inside you, thrusting into that warm, wet haven between your legs?

He scolds himself for letting his mind wander, focusing back on the task at hand. He shouldn't indulge himself like this; it wasn't fair to you. He reminds himself to keep his distance, to let you have your space. If fate shines on him, maybe he'll have the chance to court you. But until then, he will bide his time with numbers and accounts, waiting for the day when he can muster up the courage to ask you to be his.

───────────────

#ask #smut #nanami kento #☀️ asks

[rusted-icicles]

*Stares at Luz, Belos and Hunter* Damn, I love that delicious, delicious Chosen One (except its all a lie/delusion) Trope.

Philip believing that HE'S God's chosen one to wipe out the sinful creatures of the Boiling Isles. He stumbled into the Boiling Isles, a realm filled with witches and demons and magic, by pure chance and is now enacting his personal witch hunter fantasy upon the isles. He fully believes that he'll go home to the Human Realm and be met with glory too! Because of course he will, he's the Chosen One, he's the one that saved humanity from the evil, evil witches!!! And anyone that tries to tell him otherwise gets removed from the story (Caleb getting stabbed, the Collector being dropped into the failure pit, Luz almost getting petrified), because there's no way that he's wrong. There's no way that he spent 400 years fulfilling his "destiny", even going as far as to mutiliate himself and turn him into something not human, only for it all to be for nothing. But it is for nothing. Not only did his plan fail, but the Human Realm has moved on from his ideals, and either wouldn't care at all about his efforts to "save humanity", or would actively despise him for it.

Luz trying to search for her "fate", trying to find the start of her epic fantasy story when she first arrives at the Boiling Isles, only to get tricked and almost killed by Adegast. She is told, straight to her face, that she is not a Chosen One. That she is just a regular person, and that believing that she has a grand destiny awaiting her is just going to lead her into trouble. But even as her dreams of being the chosen one is crushed, she still clings to her fantasy of becoming a witch, a fantasy that does become a reality. And in her journey to making that dream come true, she finds friends and happiness and a family. She didn't have to be some 'chosen one' to get all the perks that typically come packaged with your usual "Chosen One's Epic Journey To Save The World". But then, just as she had let go of "chosen one" fantasy, when she's starting to let other people help her instead of doing it all on her own (Reaching Out, which is right before Hollow Mind), it gets thrown in her face. Philip Wittebane tells her that "Perhaps you and I were destined to meet," and she has to deal with the possibility that maybe she did have a "destiny", that she was meant to arrive at the Boiling Isles. Except that "destiny" was to aid her greatest enemy, to aid the man that's trying to destroy her home.

Hunter being told that "The Titan has big plans for you", over and over again throughout his childhood. The Titan having big plans for him is the whole reason why he's here, why he's given the privilege of artificial magic, why he's the Golden Guard at such a young age. Hunter living with the pressure of being the chosen one, and wishing that he wasn't ("At least you've got your future figured out now." "At least you can figure out your own."). Hunter grew up believing that he's special, believing that he is important, that he is doing "something or someone good", only for it all to be a lie. There is no Titan's plan. He isn't special, he isn't important, and he is literally the latest in a long line of near-clones. He has no grand fate awaiting him on the Day of Unity, only a death sentence.

Special mention to King Clawthorne, who is simultaneously this trope and actually kinda a Chosen One if you squint. King spent most of his life believing that he is the King of All Demons, a feared and respected tyrant ruler that just got shrunken down into the size of a child. He believed he was special, unique, powerful, only for that to be a lie made up by Eda and perpetuated by the rest of his family (even if they're well-meaning).

Then, once he starts to come to terms with the fact that he is just a regular person, just a little guy, he finds out that he is special, that he is unique, that he is powerful. He is all of that and more, because he is literally the last of the Titans, the son of the Boiling Isles itself. And he immediately gets shackled by the pressure and responsibilities of a chosen one, even if it was well-meaning (Lilith's worship of him and focus on the fact that he is a god) or accidental (Darius's "Titan, help us" nd King's ensuing "I'll... do my best").

Something that defines a chosen one is their ability to save the world when no one else can, and on the Day of Unity itself, even after his family's attempts at keeping him out of the fight, it really turns out that King is the only one that could save the day at that moment. The CATTs's plan to stop the draining spell went wrong, the Hexsquad was under the impression that Belos could stop the spell and focused on defeating him, and King found himself in the right place, at the right time to meet the Collector and convice him to stop the draining spell. Hell, King even has the "heroic sacrifice" trope going on with him sending Luz and the rest of Hexsquad to the Human Realm!!

And it's tragic. He's a kid, he's not even supposed to be there. King literally just wanted to play catch with his dad by the time Edge of the World happened. He doesn't want this power, nor did he want this responsibility. But he's the only one that can free the Collector now.

This was mainly just a stream of thought so I have no idea how to end this properly or offer up a conclusion, so TLDR: Philip, Luz, Hunter and King all share a theme (if thats the word) of "believing that they are fated for greatness" that needs to be torn down. But out of all of them, King is the only one that got what he wanted, and by the time he got it, he didn't even want it anymore.

#the owl house #toh #toh hunter #emperor belos #philip wittebane #king clawthorne #luz noceda #hunter wittebane #its 'feeling emotional over toh's 'chosen ones are bullshit' schtick' hours! #i love these four so much #rusty ramblings

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

hello hello hello Jalebi! And I’m sorry it was really weird of me to not say hello in my previous ask :((

In context with the same (ask), I really loved that you pointed out all the scenes with the song, and how it impacted the whole story build up. Yk, Before watching ipkknd, I went through a whole phase of watching the ‘realistic’ romance movies in Hollywood. The ones that make the viewers relate with the protagonists, because we’ve all been heartbroken in some point of our lives, and that all romances do not end up in happily ever afters. The before trilogy, 500 days of summer, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, normal people and many more. My perspective on love and romance changed completely over the past 2-3 years, and it kind of was good because I got familiar with the real picture. (I grew up watching bollywood films and read wattpad as a teenager, which was obviously, really like a strawberry-duniya) But now, I’m finding myself again going back to my childhood dreams and fantasies, like love is ‘meant to be’, or ‘true romance is aided by the divine’, ‘the red string theory’ and something of that sort. I’m scared that this might end up making me feel that ‘realistic love’ is inadequate. I have fallen in love with the way romance and love has been portrayed in ipkknd, and I don’t think i am getting over it anytime soon.

Hello hello,

Omgh Anon please don't worry - I wasn't in the best mood either!

Ok, time for Jalebi to crack her knuckles and give a drop of two of reality sweetness and advice.

Romance is really about the way you feel. The way you imagine it to be. There's nothing ever right or wrong about the way romance works because there's no one way to define this notion of romance.

You see the best way to understand this is to really understand the way IPK showed how Arnav and Khushi experienced romance.

For Khushi always believed in what films and books sold her - she believed romance to be flowers, stars, seeing the person everywhere and so on and so forth. Thus when she fell for Arnav, she literally felt all this because this is how she was conditioned and believed romance would be.

Arnav, pragmatic in nature, truly never believed in the commercialized version of romance. What he did believe in was care being romance. He did NOT believe in Anjali's definition of romance. What he did believe is what he saw between Anjali and Shyam. The fact that his sister, so deep in love, cannot function if her beloved is in danger. She has a strong physiological response to Shyam. And Arnav does believe Anjali loves Shyam and vice versa. He does not believe love making the heart go fast, but he is aware of how an extreme emotion can affect the body. So the night he understands love (which he has been questioning for some time now) he realizes his care for Khushi was exaggerated, he collapsed at the thought of her harm and his extreme physiological reaction - racing heartbeats to restlessness - it's all due to and for Khushi, leaves him in a sombre realization.

The point here being you can never point out which version of romance is more accurate cause even if fiction, people feel love differently even for the most basic things.

If you are a romantic at heart and now believe larger than life things - from fate to God - play a role at romance, then even the most realistic thing like the person you like dabbing away your snotty nose during a cold will feel like the MOST romantic thing in the planet. You will see fate in this, you will feel the violins.

But if you're a realist at heart, then even at the most GRAND entry of your crush - helicopter and all - you will see the smallest things that matter to you. Such a small smile your hero throws your way before he goes for his day.

What we must understand though is that situations don't lead to love. Your feels and circumstances are two very separate things. I, at one point, used to believe that "Oh I'd get great love only if I go through the intense difficulty and push pull and fight with destiny"

Now that is a problem because a lot of the circumstances in IPKKND are best left to fiction. If realistic love doesn't appeal to you on screen - totally makes sense, heck I'm always down for grander schemes of love ON screen.

But in real life, it's really the realistic love that leaves you with the joy the grander shows love. It's the green flags, the safety, security and just goodness of it all that's really appealing.

Trust me when I say this, an honest intelligent conversation has had my heart racing faster than being backed into a wall 'a la Khushi'.

And the human mind is such, it can frame events into your head based on your definition of romance.

If I'm a hardcore romantic, then I will find divinity in reality and if I'm a realistic I will find realism in divinity. Because when I'm liking someone, I'm trying to find WHAT appeals to me.

And one really important thing to realize is that fate does NOT dictate one to be in your life when they're causing you grief. IPKKND is written as a romance that was not meant to have happened.

If you get an ASR - run. If you get a Khushi - run as well. One is too egoistic and the other is too idealistic.

Also realism does not mean passionless or things not being fated. It just shows you multiple other perspectives can happen. Yes, there's a certain escapism in these fantasy stories, but I also believe remarkable things can happen to absolutely ordinary people as well.

And you don't have to get over IPKKND at all - enjoy the vibes, enjoy the feels. Don't idealize the situations that Arnav and Khushi faced to get to love, but definitely idealize the power in their love.

Love's power is universal.

Love love love,

Jalebi

P.S: Talking about realism, it is interesting to note that the second time Khushi actually falls for Arnav (not infatuation) is when the littlest things happen.

A box of bangles cause her previous one broke, assisting her in serving the guests cause the waiters ditched on her, or simply telling her that the saree she chose first was the better one.

Nothing remarkable at ALL and this is as realistic as love gets, and as beautiful too.

The grand gestures of dance, kiss and mehendi's 'A' make her uncomfortable. His soft smile and showing up, personally, to her house in the morning is what touches her.

#ask #anon #jalebi's two cents #chill my dear #love is perfect in its odd way #HUMANS ARE MEANT TO CHANGE #perspectives always shift

[project-heartless-serial]

Author's Note

Hallo! Thank you for your interest in reading this. This story is finished and will update every Saturday starting May 4, 2024. If you are impatient and have some money to spare, or just would like to support me, early access of 5 advance chapters (plus patreon-exclusive post canon content, once we get there!) is available here!

Chapter Masterlist

Working Title: Project Heartless

Genre: Queer, Dystopian Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Horror

Length: 118K

The Heartless are empty of morals– just as nonexistent as their heart. That was what Rainier Sandoval had been taught at an early age. As an Inner City dweller, the barbarism in the Outer District, where the Heartless thrived, was hard to imagine. But when his own heart was stolen and crushed on his twenty-fifth birthday, he was exiled to that very place, forced to see for himself. He had thought he was prepared, but the expectations were so horribly different from the reality. Conspiracies were afoot, and the more he stayed in Outer District, the more he realized he had been lied to his entire life.  The monsters he was taught to fear might be Angel City's only hope against threats lurking beyond its borders. In a twist of fate, they might also be Rainier's only hope against his own inner demons.

This story was written because there is a severe lack of aromantic characters and queerplatonic relationships in media. If you like: 

*A primarily aromantic cast being unapologetically aro (feat. other aspec identities)

*a generous sprinkle of body horror and action

*focus on a queerplatonic relationship between the MC and their partner

*focus on a nonbinary characters and identities

*found family

*fighting monsters

*fighting against an oppressive system

*a rainy atmospheric setting

Then this novel is for you!

I am very active on Tumblr and my handle is @rkmoon! If you wanna see what I'm working on, ask me questions or just talk to me, you can find me there.

That is all! I hope you like it! 

#web serial #wip intro #queer writing #reading #projectheartless #song of the heartless #horror #dystopian fantasy #dark fantasy #body horror #queer #lgbt #aromantic #nonbinary #queer lit #webnovel #web novel

[ask-dancing-fox]

Ruined by Fury

You are angry. You are angry and everyone knows it. The fire within you will not die, cannot die. For if it dies, you won't have a reason to burn. Your rage simmers close to your chest, it boils near something you won't touch. You are angry because it is easier than anything else. You are angry because you chose it over pain. You are ruined because you cannot feel anything but your own ire.

. . .

The truth was inevitable, unavoidable, something that was ever present in one's mind just the same as death. Facts were carved into the unchangeable stone of reality and all were crushed under it.

Everything Dies.

And fury was what kept Sabito alive.

On the outside the fox was unmoved, unafflicted by mere principles. The waves could thrash upon that testament for all eternity but it would never be erased. He was helpless and that only fed the abominable wrath within him.

That face of porcelain over his own was one of mercilessness and brutality, a phantom horror that loved only carnage. It cared for nothing, it felt nothing- nothing but a tearing hunger for revenge where a sense of justice once was. On the outside he was a monster even worse than the demons he slaughtered but under it- ...Under it he was just a man...

A boy trying to be a man...A boy who never lived to become one...

In life he was stern because be cared and under that soulless mask was the softest, most angelic face... His smile was a blessing and something that promised everything would be alright...A perfect lie that died horribly in the hand of unfairness, and that hand had been stained many times before upon a great many hands.

No matter how many Sabito had severed ten more took it's place. Evil would never be fully erradicated from the world...It was an endless, folly battle...Almost pointless.

And yet he fought. Even now he refused death though he was already dead. He wouldn't dissappear, it was impossible with such bitter and grievous resentment storming in his chest and churning his stomach. He could not rest when such a demeaning fate was brought upon him, robbing Sabito of his destiny to eliminate hordes of demons and foul 'humans' from the earth.

Thousands...Thousands would've died by his blade...

It didn't matter anymore. He was dead and that was it. Nothing could be done and there was no point in wallowing the fantasy of a better outcome. The only way to go was forward and he spent his days with only that senseless anger to keep him company and a numb acceptance of what became of him...

He would hope his death hadn't brought too much suffering but hope was just another lie to be smashed in the clutches of a reality that favored misfortune.

But, as useless and foolish as it was Sabito did harbor a single, feeble hope deep within his heart, underneath all that bleak rage.

He hoped he'd be forgotten.

That's the only way he'd ever truly die...And Sabito hoped he would...

He'd bear it all...All the turmoil and raw anguish for the both of them...Regret and unfinished buisness should be left for the dead.

He hoped....for Giyuu to be happy again...

But Giyuu's smile had died with Sabito...

Sadness was weakness and a man should choke it down and push through. There was strength in anger and that's why Sabito chose it. Anger was what kept him tethered to this realm and he wouldn't leave, not while demons crawled the earth and Giyuu was unhappy. He had to find someone to avenge him and rectify what had been ruined. He'd linger in this forest as long as it took to find someone to carry out his will...someone to kill the hand demon and someone who would make Giyuu smile again...

But for now this was all he had...This fire in him...His undying fury.

#sabito #kny rp #sabito rp #demon slayer rp #sabigiyuu #sabito x giyuu #demon slayer #gisabi #giyu tomioka #Dash games

[loosesodamarble]

Oh! If you're still doing the headcanon ask game, can I get Vanessa and Morgen please? 🥰

Of course I'm still doing the ask game! I've only just started it today in fact!

And those headcanons you ask for are here now!

.....

Vanessa Enoteca

Realistic Headcanon: Vanessa’s Red String of Fate spell is a two-way street. There’s gotta be a mutual sense of connection for the spell to protect anyone. The spell can get around the elf possessions because the souls of Vanessa’s friends are still in the bodies. But if Vanessa and a person’s bond isn’t super stable, the spell won’t work for them. Zora and Nacht would have a high risk of not being under RSoF’s protection because of the walls they keep up. Nacht is definitely worse off than Zora. While he said he was gonna live with the Bulls, he would take growing accustomed to them at a snail’s pace, and even then his connection to most Bulls would probably remain as coworkers. Even with Nacht’s history with Yami, I think Vanessa wouldn't warm up to Nacht quickly. He is an acquired taste after all. Plus (and this is a personal me thing) I don’t see Nacht and Vanessa having much chemistry. (No hate to people who imagine them with a friendship or even romance. My mind just draws a blank when imagining them interacting. 😔)

While it might cause Vanessa some grief to learn that her spell does have conditions like that making it slightly harder to protect the squad/friends she considers her “family,” I feel like conditions like that would make for an interesting test of trust. Like, imagine if an enemy tried to infiltrate and bring down the BB? But RSoF outs them as an enemy because the spell won’t protect someone who doesn’t value Vanessa as much as she values them.

Not realistic but hilarious Headcanon: Vanessa has never won a drinking contest against other Black Bulls members. Either the members are too young to drink (Noelle, Asta), they aren't interested in competing (Grey, Secre, Gordon, Henry, Nacht), they'd rather compete with food (Charmy, Luck), or they agree to the drinking contest and in her overconfidence, she drinks ahead of time and ends up dooming herself to lose (Yami, Zora, Finral, Magna). Vanessa has won countless contests elsewhere but within the squad, it just never works out in her favor. 😅

Heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends Headcanon: Vanessa remembers how her mother looked when she smiled. When she was first put in that cage, she hoped to one day be able to do something to make her mother smile again and thought that was how she'd get her freedom. She gave up on that hope eventually. But even years later, Vanessa would like a chance to make her mother smile again.

Unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own Headcanon: Vanessa's actually a talented writer and has written a few romance stories (both the innocent and not so innocent variety). None of them are very long with 30,000 being the average word count. She's managed to write one short novel per year since joining the Black Bulls (which means her writing process might actually be "write drunk, edit sober" 😆). She bases the stories on the romantic gossip from other squads that she hears about. And one might've been a self-insert fantasy with a knock-off Yami. But you didn't hear that from me.

...

Morgen Faust

Realistic Headcanon: Morgen trained himself to specialize in healing magic. His magic had a natural inclination for offensive spells. But he wanted to heal and use support spells and so he underwent intensive training to get the spells he ended up with. He wasn't without any attacks in his repertoire but he was mainly a support mage with healing, defensive, and other utility spells. Morgen is not a noble who would coast by on his naturally strong magic and just take what's given to him. He will commit himself to learn how to use magic the way he wants to.

Not realistic but hilarious Headcanon: Morgen's go-to response to anything he really didn't want to do (meet with a suitor, clean the bathroom after Yami used it, do a spicy food challenge, etc) was to go to the nearest window and jump out of it. He wouldn't say anything, but walk to the window, open it, and jump out like it was nothing. If he wanted to make it clear how opposed he was, Morgen would run and leap out the window without even opening it. It was so bad that anytime Morgen was told something people knew he wouldn't like, they'd arrange to meet him in a windowless room. (Don't worry, he'd cushion his fall with a bit of Light Magic, that or he'd make a pair of wings and fly off.)

Heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends Headcanon: Morgen's first loyalty was always to his family. Not just Nacht. But his parents too. Even if they didn't truly love him, he loved them. Because they were his parents. They gave him life and a home and clothes. He was quietly neglected, but he was never fully cast aside and abandoned. And they loved Nacht (albeit for the wrong reasons, but they at least values Nacht) which meant that the brother Morgen cared for didn't face the kind of cold treatment that Morgen got. And when it came to the matter of devils, Morgen was more scared of his family hurting themselves rather than the illegal nature of it (hence why Morgen brought absolutely zero back-up when he confronted his family; he didn't want them arrested, just out of harm's way). Morgen loved all of his family, in a desperate and one-sided way where he could only want for their love back, but it was still a deep and honest love. Because that's the only kind of love Morgen knew how to give.

Unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own Headcanon: Building off how I said Morgen was more concerned about the dangers of working with devils rather than it being illegal, Morgen would've jumped at the chance to learn about Forbidden Magic. Not so much as to use it. But he'd tear through whatever books were available and watch with deep fascination as Nacht learned to control the powers of the Bremen devils. While not a scholar, Morgen is the type to like learning new things. And knowledge about devils isn't something you come across easily. Finally, it's his family's secret practice and Morgen would want to be in on that! Screw the law, the Faust family's devil knowledge is really cool!

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Headcanon ask game

#questions from the ask box #black clover #black clover headcanons #morgen faust #vanessa enoteca #morgen faust headcanons #vanessa enoteca headcanons #ask game #laura the writing senpai #soda asides #also the rsof’s conditions would definitely fuck over Josele so that’s fun #not emotions? no bond with Vanessa? then die/lh+j