#no contact is deliberate and sinister

[thevirgodoll]

hey girl,

respect yourself enough to walk away. go where you are loved, where you are cherished. go to people that wouldn’t even allow you to walk away in the first place.

you are being treated less than your value when you were out of their price range when you met them. something that is valuable would be protected and claimed. you never leave your valuables out where they can be taken. and trust me, they know you’re valuable.

they’re breaking your heart to make you question your value. they’re treating you like trash when they’d never accept that same treatment. they’re building you up, and breaking you down. meanwhile, they’re questioning their own self worth and self concept. it’s all a projection.

and come on, do you really think he is conveniently hurting you or ignoring you because he’s simply misguided or avoidant? no, he just isn’t a real man. stop making excuses for him.

when he turned his back on you, he made the decision to go towards a low value lifestyle. it’s easier to stay the same, than have a woman who will push him to grow. you can check majority of the boxes, but if he isn’t ready for you and doesn’t want to be, he will never be ready. why wait on a message that will never come?

y’all have to remember people make conscious decisions in the long run regarding who they will deal with, and who they won’t. y’all also have to remember if someone loves you enough, they WILL do their damndest to change. regardless of external factors. if he respected the fact that the dynamic is an honor, a privilege, a blessing, he would do anything to keep it. nothing would stop him.

if you were valued in this connection, you’d know it. walk away. let God use you as a lesson of how you never know what you have until it’s gone. never let anyone fumble you more than once.

keep praying, keep trying, keep staying pure hearted and genuine. be open to change and take this time to grow deeper in your spirituality. choose God because God chose you first. don’t ever let anyone treat you less than what GOD would treat you. you are worth more. choose yourself. and above all, never let anyone tell you that you aren’t worthy of being chosen.

#thoughts #note to self #time to focus on me #they will destroy you if you let them #and waiting for someone to change who doesn’t want to or who is avoiding you is like waiting for rain in a drought. #eclipse #Christianity #spirituality #high value woman #femininity #no contact #no contact is deliberate and sinister

[highonmarvel]

The Other Side

Searching for your Stephen, you find another, and he won’t let you go this time.

An entry for Day 4 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: The Other Side, ft Sinister Dr Strange of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Dr Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022).

Warnings: DUB-CON!, possessive behaviour, developing Stockholm Syndrome. 18+! [And I haven’t watched Dr Strange in so long, please pretend I know what I’m doing.]

You had lost Stephen and America, and you were now left in a crumbling world, a universe broken, with no way to get home. Based on the wrecked state of the world, you thought there wasn’t a Dr Strange here, that he had been defeated and his opponent left ruin. Though he wasn’t your Stephen, the thought still deeply upset you, that Stephen could be defeated, and maybe yours would be.

You push open the door of the Sanctum, you want to call out to him but you know there’s no point. The heavy door falls shut behind you. All the antiques and strange paintings and ornaments that once decorated the foyer have been shattered, some are deteriorating, and a dark mist floats through the cold temple, enveloping you, nearly strangling you, you feel.

Upstairs. You know you have to head to the Window of the Worlds.

You walk to the window, engraved with the Seal of Vishanti. It’s cracked, black lines not belong to the symbol run in all directions across the glass, that has a purple tint, nearly a faint violet glow. You want to touch it, when you hear your name whispered.

You spin, and there stands Stephen. Not your Stephen. This Stephen is… different: he looks older, streaks of grey paint his dark hair, with sunken eyes.

“Stephen!” you call, taking a step forward, “Or, Dr Strange, I need your help, please.”

“You’re here,” he murmurs, slowly walking towards you.

“I- I am,” you sputter, a little confused and off put by his trance-like demeanour, as his curious eyes never leave you, “I lost Stephen—my Stephen—and I need to get back.”

“I am your Stephen.” his voice is so low, so low you wouldn’t have heard it were you even a notch below the level of hyper-awareness he’s activated in you.

He steps into the light, and you gasp and take a step back. Visually, he’s not much different to the average person, but his eyes are dark, a familiar blue you once knew sealed up in an endless black; you can’t read them as he continues to walk towards you. You still.

He stops in front of you, and raises shaky hands to cup your face, his lips parted slightly as his foreign dark gaze analyses every inch of your face. His fingers are cold, ice cold, so cold they burn, like dry ice; you wince at the contact but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“No,” you whisper, “No, I’m not yours, and you’re not my…”

You raise your hands to gently grasp his wrists, and freeze when you see it. His fingertips are darkened, stained with a black so profound, so dangerous in sheer aura that you know what it’s from.

“Stephen?”

He’s been tampering with the Dark Hold, the book of sins so evil you barely know of it, just the name elicits chills; Stephen, your Stephen, barely discussed it, he never did until he found out about the Scarlet Witch’s use, and even still he said very little; you got the feeling that though his knowledge seemed limitless, he knew little here, and very deliberately he kept himself in the dark, because if he knew, he’d indulge.

And indulge he has, this sinister Stephen holding your face gently in his hands, as if these hands haven’t caused unfathomable destruction. You should have known—you knew—that Dr Strange could not be defeated. He wasn’t conquered, never could he be: he conquered.

“That’s me,” he smiles and reassures you. Though his eyes and fingers are stained, that boyish smile you know to be yours is the same as ever.

“What did you do?” is all you can muster in a shaky breath, a tear slipping down your cheek, he watches it fall.

“I did what was necessary, and you…” he strains his voice to prevent himself from choking on his words and he smooths a calloused finger over your skin, wiping away the single tear that had spilt, “You were gone.”

His eyes soften, and, despite the cold of his hands, they’re warm, his eyes, his body too, you notice, noting he’s much closer to you than you realised, and definitely too close for comfort. You don’t even know if you can call him insane, mad with power, and furthermore, you can’t tell what he meant by…

A cold hand snakes over your shoulder and his fingers grasps the back of your neck, pulling you towards him. When he kisses you, you stiffen, but, really, for barely a second, because his lips, they feel so familiar. This man is like your Stephen, you can feel it, but you see a different image; he’s like your Stephen if he had no self control, or even just a little less than he has now.

The thought hits you: you could never deny Stephen. Even if you could, say, by the grace of some higher power, even if you could walk away, Stephen always gets what he wants. There isn’t even a higher power you can turn to: there is no power higher than Stephen.

“You’ve come back to me.”

What can you even say? You’re sure he isn’t delusional, you’re sure he knows you’re not his, and you’re sure he doesn’t care. You nearly resign to your fate, but the thought burns you so hot you hurriedly blurt out,

“What happened to her?”

To you. Did he…?

He doesn’t answer, he stays gazing into your eyes, a sombre-looking but relieved smile on his face, like he’s reconciling the fact that he was wrong; he’s never wrong, but he never thought he would see you again. He simply repeats, “You’ve come back to me.”

“Stephen, no,” you state, firmly, yanking his hands off your face and holding his wrists down between you two. He seems mildly shocked, you’re sure he would have been able to overpower you if he you didn’t catch him slightly off guard. But no, you should know you could never be apart from him, whether you want to or not.

Magic ropes wrap around your wrists, tying a knot and pulling them close together, so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if they sliced your hands off. Stephen’s magic is golden, pure, this man—you don’t even want to call him Stephen—his magic is corrupt; purple, with black shadows swirling the violet pulses emitting from the shapes he draws.

You panic, forcing your head down to look at your bound wrists and then snapping your head back up to him. You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a shrill little squeal as you’re lifted a few centimetres off the ground. The same purple and black vines wrap around your ankles, forcing them together.

You notice this is the first time you’ve been above him, floating just high enough for him to have to raise his chin to study you. You always thought this would give you some kind of dominance (fleeting and artificial as it may be), to be over him, but no, you never stood a fucking chance.

You barely struggle, afraid that if you shift around too much you’ll drop to the ground, so all you can do is be still as he circles you, examining you. Another thing; he doesn’t seem to just look at you, he studies you, like looking for flaws in a sculpture. What happens if he finds them?

“You know,” he finally speaks after several minutes of inspecting you, “All this…” he turns you towards the window. There’s a rift in the sky, with seemingly everything in it, everything in existence, it’s overwhelming, “I did for you, honey.”

He’s lying, he must be; though you can imagine yourself getting a little carried away now and then, in no universe could you ever see a version of yourself prepared to bring about mass destruction, the ends of literally infinite lives, no; you may be imperfect, but the collapse of an entire universe? He’s either lying or being intentionally ambiguous. Maybe he’s not lying, just misleading.

“You didn’t; you did it for her,” you half-lie; while it’s true he could only have done this for a different version of you, you doubt she would have authorised that, but you use her as sort of a scapegoat anyway.

He flicks his fingers and you spin to face him. He lowers you just enough so you’re at eye level, and despite your best efforts, you genuinely can not read his gaze; you can’t find any hint of what he may be feeling, it’s just a void, but it’s not, it’s not a void; you know there’s something there, something you’re missing.

You’re sure he’s going to say something, maybe continue his little game of pretending you’re his, but just as you anticipate the opening of his mouth, you violently spin again, this time towards the door, with a shriek. He walks in front you, and you follow behind, like you’re being pulled by a rope, like a dog on a leash who’s trying to play with something when the owner is fed up and wants to go home.

His bedroom door slams shut behind you and you’re lowered onto bed with a gentleness the human touch could never give, his magic softly laying you like you’re the most precious thing, and based on the look he’s giving you, you damn well might be.

Your soft rest hazes your mind for a moment, but you’re snapped back to the cold of the Sanctum when you feel him hover over you.

“I’ve missed you…” he whispers.

You don’t know when your pants came off, but you feel him run a practiced finger over your clothed slit. Oh, God, he feels exactly like your Stephen; the foreignness of his eyes and slight change in demeanour don’t seem to mean anything when he still feels exactly the same, it’s fucking with your mind.

You love your Stephen, more than anything, and you know this isn’t him. You try to push him off but when he slips a finger inside of you, you can’t help the shudder that vibrates through you.

Can I get Stockholm Syndrome so easy? you wonder to yourself, more berate yourself, as you try desperately to ignore the feeling of his fingers inside of you, moving in and out just the way you like, he knows what you like, he knows your body just the way Stephen does.

Because he is Stephen.

۞

#sintember 2023 #sinister strange x reader #dark! dr strange x reader #dark!dr strange x reader #dark!doctor strange #dark stephen strange #dark!stephen strange #dr strange smut

[sounknownvoid]

Sam's "puppy dog eyes" are just him,hurt or ashamed - vulnerable?

We all know (&love) sammy's "puppy dog eyes" - & thanks to dean, we've been told of its amazing powers of persuasion and influence on people... I mean look at the evidence:

How could you possibly say no to this face?... I certainly couldn't ...but maybe that's the point - hear me out..

In "Scarecrow", Dean waxes lyrical about how his brother could give you this "look" and people would just "buy into" whatever it was he was saying at the time...

Elsewhere too, it's remarked upon, by Dean, about how no one can resist the power of the "puppy dog eyes" - thing that strikes me though is the language used - its almost framed like its a "manipulative tactic", something that Sam deliberately uses to his advantage somehow and is a weapon in his personal arsenal to disarm and influence people....ie "mere mortals" - the language is almost ominous and sinister...from dean.

Similarly when he talks about how sam is the one more easily able to coax whoever they're interviewing on cases to trust them, persuade them gently with his demeanour to divulge information that they'd perhaps otherwise not have shared...again framed almost like a "secret power" of Sam's....by Dean.

But then, watch the actual show and the actual times those 'puppy dog eyes' are shown by sam - he'd usually hurt or bewildered or ashamed and guilty and scared - yes, even soulless sam coz y'know he was still an actual person... if it IS a tactic it usually seems to be to try and get other person to stop hurting him or to show that he's hurting (the point of facial expressions) in hope the said person will stop - which BTW, note how he blanks in later seasons instead and stops showing his vulnerability any more?...

and whenever he's been able to convince people to share information and to trust them - it's been because he employed EMPATHY n understanding and cared about the situations these "normal" people found themselves in...ie he simply treated these folks as normal human beings caught in a bad situation and showed them some consideration,thoughtfulness amd kindness.....and that's all.

Contrast to whenever dean has been on his own (or when soulless with him instead) - he has a hard edge to him and gives off some pretty angst n downright scary vibes- not too mention, he's usually pretty suspicious or scoffing at the "civvies" in his demeanour - prolonged contact with sam has taught him to moderate himself/his approach but it's not his "natural" state with folks...

And that brings me to the point I'm trying to make on this post...

What if dean, struggling with his own "complex feelings" and being unable to ever deny sam anything coz of his own love n conditioning reads Sam's wounded look as a manipulation- a way to explain away his own "weakness" ( coz remember in john & dean's world vulnerability & love is a weakness is not what a "man" does) - ie "sammy made me do it with his bewitching eyes" instead of "I love my brother so much I can't deny him anything" is more palatable to dean.... and also, because his feelings frightened him and he's scared of the (perceived) hold sam has on him - he thinks sam MUST know of his effect on dean and MUST be using it on purpose....because conflict/threat&it's defusal & disarmament of said threat or weaponising their tools/themselves, is what they do.

And then, to further justify it to himself, he points to the interviews with civilians and how sam is able to persuade them too - so it's not just him, samm DOES have these "powers of persuasion"-bordering on ahem, the supernatural...but it's just sam being a decent human to these folks...

Just like everything else Sam's been blamed for or, something ominous being made of something he does or is - maybe those "famous" puppy-dog eyes of his are just sam looking actually, genuinely hurt,wounded,betrayed? - but it's so much easier to deflect and dismiss as a manipulative tactic so that no reparations or even acknowledgements need to be made and so no accountability required to be taken - which is after all, "dean special power"?....

it strikes me everytime, how much of our views of sam are molded and informed by dean's POV in the narrative of supernatural....

I'm beginning to wonder if we've ever actually seen sam as he was in the story at all - from an objective standpoint, let alone his own POV (which I'm sure would be far darker of himself and also inaccurate?)...

#supernatural #anti dean winchester #sam and dean #oh sam 🥺😭 #i cry over sammy all the time in spn #jared padalecki acting appreciation #Deans view of sam informs audience's perception of sam also #spn meta

[random-ideas-artblog]

Just finished watching the first detective Conan movie!

So I just finished it, and I was taking notes as I went through. I’m just going to post them below. It’s pretty rough because I typed while watching so these are real time thoughts. Overall I enjoyed it though.

Conan’s adorable when he gets the letter (blushing is cute)

Can’t believe the dork forgot his own birthday but remembered some Holmes trivia instead lol 

Ran is a such a sweetheart omg 

Mori really read through the dudes whole Wikipedia page lmao

Never mind I mean biography I forgot this was like 1997

Does this dude have OCD is that supposed to be the implication 

Garden party is cool but where are the bombs and skyscrapers what I sup 

Damn he can cook wow

I feel like the do everything myself is going to be Important

Ok he’s kind of sinister know idk why  

Yo why is he so interested in this teenage girls love life??? 

Conan you are so screwed 

Oh ok I see where the bomb and skyscraper are coming into play now 

Grudge against the architect maybe 

Wow that was a big explosion

Ok this whole situation is very weird why is he helping Conan 

What is the cat the fucking bomb???

There better not be any cat death in this movie I will cry 

How did the old woman not notice the bomb???

That old woman and driver are having very tame reactions to this insane kid 

Oops and he’s passed out. In the hospital too uh oh

Aw that cute Kogoro is by his bedside 

Wow Conan without the glasses really looks like a  shinichi copy  how has no one noticed 

You can’t use phones in hospitals what is this common knowledge I never learned 

Ok this looks really bad for Shinichi I pity him a bit lol now Kogoro things he’s scum 

Ok I have a theory: For whatever reason  architect is bombing stuff for an unknown reason. The guy shown has a beard but that’s probably just a disguise, architect said he likes to do things himself so that’s why I think it’s him. He doesn’t what there to be casualties or just wants someone to stop him.That’s why Shinichi was contacted he’s a well known detective. The password thing was a test for Mori to see if he can replace shinichi, but Conan figured it out and got a tour of the gallery. Which, COINCIDENTALLY, has buildings that have been bombed before (the mansion) and will be bombed (presumably the skyscraper based on info so far). It’s a deliberate clue. That’s also why the bomber is accepting Conan as a legitimate detective because he passed the test, but also giving hints because this js a kid he doesn’t want to kill him. It’s also just occurred to me that the architect was implied to have severe OCD or perfectionism. He could be bombing past builds because he thinks there’s some thing wrong with them and can’t stand to have their design be under his name. Something like that idk. I’m only 36 minutes in so we’ll see

Wait a minute maybe the reason architect was interested in the birthday date was because he wanted to know when and where Shinichi would be so he could plan the bombing around his schedule! Ran provided practically all the details too 

That’s cute the kids drew a picture (I know it’s a suspect but still)

He’s happy with it??? Damn Conan can’t draw at all 

That was a lot of damage to the car wow 

Rare Kudo shinichi appearance I missed you!!! Conan’s cute but shinichi as himself looks pretty cool haha 

Damn that’s a strong father son bond 

Laughing then hating that’s kinda of funny

Genta is going to shout out the word bombs isn’t he

…I knew it 

Wait no ones noticed these kids screaming bomb on the train?

I am so confused by the motivation pretty sure this means my theories are wrong damn 

Sick burn Ran lol 

Wow this whole diverting sequence is seriously dramatic and I love it 

Poor Ran she’s getting stood up 

The bridge! The architect doesn’t want to blow up that bridge because he’s actually happy with that work! That would fit with my previous theory 

Ok shiratori is being kind of suspicious. Kinda confirms my theory tho 

Conan dude that suggestion was not subtle at all  

Ok now what Mori has said it’s someone else I’m more convinced than ever it’s the architect 

Ok there’s a lot of emphasis being placed on him lighting the pipe same as the beginning 

Ok did the dad steal his kids designs or did he steal his dad’s?? Probably the latter 

Was I actually on to something with the pipe????

Uh new theory he’d bombing all the architecture that doesn’t fit the New Tama symmetrical city to try and get the building approved after the Mayors arrest 

Just saw the architect has a painting of a horse above the fireplace I don’t know why that’s amusing to me 

Mori you are so wrong it’s funny as hell 

That reaction was funny as hell 

It’s kind of creepy how the architect is just standing and staring down 

Go after him Shiratori hell yeah 

So the skyscraper in the tile only shows up in the last 20 minutes 

I was actually right with my theory?? Kind of. I got the reason he wanted Kudo to take the case wrong(it was revenge) but the motivation behind the bombing and who was bombing them was correct. 

Ok but now that it’s been proven it had nothing to do with the case, why was he so interested in the date it’s a little bit creepy ngl 

Oh damn the bombs actually went off that’s a lot of power 

Ok wow this dude is an asshole 

Wait he wanted to know about the date so he could plant a huge bomb that would kill Ran and Shinichi wtf 

Ok Ran is taking this very well wow she’s cool 

I wonder what everyone else in the lobby is thinking right now 

Wait did they do it wrong. Wait nvm that’s someplace else 

Seeing Kogoro so worried about Ran is kind of heartwarming, although the circumstances aren’t great 

Oh god it’s the classic red wire blue wire 

My bet is on red wire. It’s Ran’s favorite color and the couples lucky color for the month 

Bruh wtf is with this edgy commentary from the architect about love you’re such a loser Christ.I’m getting a bit heated haha 😅

Not the happy Birthday this is really sad 

We’ll be together when we die??? What the hell this is depressing but kinda sweet 

I just realized I started off a bunch of my comments with ok so. It’s not important or anything I just noticed that while reading through. I’d give this movie a 7/10. There were some interesting parts and it was fun theorizing but there are still some things I’m confused about. Why did he accept Conan as a detective? Why did he provide clues to the bombs??? If the motive was revenge wouldn’t it be better to have Shinichi fail? Maybe I missed something idk.

#detective conan case closed #dcmk #movie review #conan edogawa #shinichi kudo #i really want to see shinichi in the red polo shirt now #I feel like that would clash with his eyes tho lol #Time bombed skyscraper #Movie 1

[serotonins-stuff]

I will KILL to have more karma content from u literally 🤗🤗

♡︎Playfighing bf! karma +scenario

Going easy on you? Not a chance.

He's going to tackle you, sit on you, trip you- man is an absolute menace.

Will smile when you try to tackle him and he'll hold your wrists and smirk down at you.

WILL NOT STOP TEASING!!

" C'mon, I'm standing still baby, attack me."

As soon as you rush towards him he dodges you. Pinning your arms behind your back and kissing your neck while you struggle to be free.

Will shamelessly start flirting with you.

"You're so cute when you're sweaty"

You be out of breath, huffing and heaving while he's flawlessly not even bothered. Dodging every move like it's nothing.

This mf will start giving you tips during the fight.

"Your footing is off babe, try a different stance."

Smiling through the whole thing.

That is until you manage to pin him to the ground and he's genuinely shocked. Like actually flabbergasted that you even managed to lay a finger on him.

------

"Looks like you got me princess" he tries to move but still can't get up. His was way stronger than you, so how were you pinning him down like this?

His face went pale when he saw your expression.

You held the same sinister smile he does, placing your hand to his sides to prepare for an attack.

"Wait hold on now let's talk about this" he raised his hands in defeat, smiling nervously.

Then you started tickling him, and it was over. He squirmed and cackled under you, attempting to pry your hands off but it was no use.

When he saw his chance he swiftly changed positions. Pinning your hands above you so that he would be on top and have all the control.

Now it was your turn to panic while he deliberately raised his arms to your sides just like you had done. You flinched when his finger made contact with your stomach.

"Looks like someone is sensitive" he smirked, and proceed to attack your sides with a series of tickles.

"Karma- s-sto-p" you squirmed under him, laughing so hard that tears formed I'm your eyes.

"Oh has my princes had enough?" he cooed and lifted you princess style.

"You're a menace you know that?" You poked his cheek, and he put your finger in between his teeth.

"I'm your menace"

--------

A/n

This is the first request I've received, and I cannot explain how happy I am rn.

Thank you so much to everyone for the love and support!

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Requests are open.

#fypage #anime and manga #oneshot #imagine #assassination classroom #karma x reader #karma akabane #akabane karma #serotonins stuff

[sprout-fics]

I should have the next chapter of Little Mouse ready by this evening! Here's one final very short teaser before the next update:

"If I run…" You ask, hands still on either side of your head, never breaking eye contact with the soldier before you. "…Will you chase me?"

Konig tilts his head at you, the motion slow, deliberate. You can see him mulling over your query, trying to understand the intent behind it. Gaz is restrained, quiet, and you wonder if perhaps he can discern the true meaning of your words.

If I run, will you leave him?

"If you run, I'll catch you, Maus." He warns, and you shudder at the undertone of his voice. Excited, sinister. A prophecy.

#fic: little mouse

[inkykeiji]

Reader trying to surprise SD!Natsuo by sitting in his office nude, waiting for him to arrive...

But Touya comes in before Natsuo does (and we both know he wouldn't knock lmao)

ANONNNN HAHAHAHA this is perhaps my favourite thing ever omfg i can’t stop giggling gosh he’d be such a smug fucking asshole about it, too

warnings: touya being his usual abhorrently toxic self, daddy kink mentioned

words: 641

It’s an automatic action, at this point, to just barge into his brother’s office without a so much as a wisp of a second thought fleeting through his mind, the motion so ingrained in his brain that it’s become almost instinctual now.

He isn’t watching where he’s going as the mahogany door swings open, too busy thumbing through invoices and other important, confidential documents, sapphire eyes scanning the pages as he stalks through the threshold.

“Alright, I contacted that fuckhead of a runner—you know, the one who mysteriously lost almost half a batch of 160s—and he—” he looks up, the sheets fanned out in his fingers accordioning into a neat stack in his palm, eyes practically glowing as his gaze connects with your very naked form, sprawled on full display in Daddy’s massive leather chair. “Oh. You’re not Natsuo,”

A wolfish grin, sharp and sinister, spreads across his lips as your entire body crumples in on itself with a pathetic little squeak of humiliated shock, desperate to shield yourself from his vying, invasive stare.

Leaning against the doorframe, Touya’s arms cross over his chest, papers crumpling under his arm as an eyebrow raises in mocking question. “Does Daddy know you’re here, princess?”

The cherished nickname drips with acidic disdain, Daddy’s favourite term for you defiled and bastardized on the lips of his older brother.

“No,” you huff with a roll of your eyes, brows set and heavy as they knit tighter at such a ridiculous question. “Of course he doesn’t. I—I was gonna surprise him,”

“Tsk,” Touya tuts his tongue with a fluid shake of his head, as if he’s disappointed in you, disappointed that you seem to have forgotten one very crucial rule, though the whirlpools of mirth swirling in azure irises contradict his dire expression.

You’re not allowed in here without Daddy’s explicit permission.

“You know you’re not supposed to be in here, sweetheart,” he begins, haphazardly tossing the heap of documents on the leather couch as he prowls into the room, massive soles of those stupid Balenciaga boots echoing menacingly against the hardwood with each heavy step forward.

“I—Well, I know, but I—”

“No buts,” he seethes, that lighthearted taunting tone turned ruthless in an instant as he comes to a stop in front of Natsuo’s large desk, palms slapping against the surface, lithe fingers splayed across the wood as he leans forward. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Each word falls from his lips with slow, controlled, deliberate articulation, speaking to you as if you’re too stupid to understand anything that isn’t expressly stated, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” you protest immediately, tightly wound limbs unravelling in your haste to make him understand, thin veil of modesty fading away. “I swear I didn’t touch or look at anything!”

“Doesn’t matter, baby,” The nickname sounds wrong, foul, slipping from his mouth and cascading like slow, sullied sludge across your exposed skin, a shudder rippling through the blood rushing in your veins. “Rules are rules, no matter what. And rules are rules for a reason.”

“Touya,” you begin in a frantic breath, the raising of his eyebrows reminding you that you’re forgetting a very important element in addressing him directly. “Nii-san,” you tack on the honorific urgently. “Touya-nii-san, I promise I only wanted—”

“You said you were here to surprise Daddy, right?” he asks, tone suddenly nonchalant, as if he hasn’t heard a word you’ve said, straightening to his full height once more and towering over the desk, a large hand rooting around in the deep pockets of his charcoal jeans and pulling his phone free from the confines a moment later. The flash flutters to life, bright enough to force motes of exposure dancing across your vision, eyes squinting in retaliation. “Let’s give him a surprise, then.”

#ohohohoho hehehehehe #just a small something for u anon <3 #no smut lol but still #he's so AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH SEXY?????????? BUT HORRIBLE LMAO #i LOVE writing sd!natsuo's touya ughhhhh <333333 #have a wonderful day anon and thank u for the prompt!!! #stay safe n drink water pls!! #sd!nat universe #inky.bb #clari gets mail #tw daddy kink

[skywalkerfanatic]

Skywalker’s on the Run

Anakin’s Redemption pt2

Anakin felt sick as he flew Padmé's ship across the galaxy. It was obvious that his wife needed immediate medical attention, but he couldn't decipher a safe place near Mustafar to even take her.

The galaxy was in chaos. For the first time in his lifetime there were no Republic or Separatist systems that he had to avoid. Yet, this new revelation did not mean that the galaxy was not still in disarray. The collapse of the republic was brand new, the last thing he needed was to accidentally bring Padmé into a battle.

Anakin ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He knew what he needed to do, but he knew Padmé would be less than pleased when she woke up. "Threepio," he addressed the droid sitting next to him. "Check on Padmé for me, and tell Artoo to prepare for arrival on Coruscant. I need to make a call..."

The the doors shut behind the droid, and Anakin called for his master. This is what Anakin had made his sacrifices for, what his new master had promised him. The survival of the one he loved the most.

"Lord Vader," Sidous was more than pleased that his new apprentice had contacted him. It meant that his plans for the extermination of the Separatist Party had been successful - just as he had foreseen it would be. "I trust that our plans on Mustafar were successful then."

Anakin's head was bowed, like the good apprentice he was. "Yes, Master. I have ended the remainder of the Separatist Party just as you had foreseen."

"Good, good." Sidous mused. "I have successfully taken my role as the Emperor of our new Empire. It is time we start your training in the dark side of the force, my apprentice. The galaxy is now ours to rule."

Anakin hesitated a moment, before bringing his head up to look at his master. "There is a problem, Master."

Lord Sidous was intrigued by Vader's announcement. What problem could he have faced on Mustafar when he has been successful in his mission? "What it is?"

"It's Padmé," He said, keeping his voice steady as to not appear weak. "I believe she's dying, Master. Just as I had foreseen. I-I'm afraid I've caused it to happen."

Ah, yes. Sidous thought with disdain. The Senator.

"It is quite impossible that you are to blame for whatever Padmé may be going through, Lord Vader. You have been out restoring peace to the galaxy, after all."

"I saw her briefly, just before I left for Mustafar. Amongst all the chaos I had to make sure she and the baby were alright." He confessed, thinking back to his mistake. "I had told her of my mission you gave me... I did not think she would come looking for me there."

"She came to Mustafar?" Sidous was only slightly amused by what horrors she might've saw there. He was more angered by the fact that his new apprentice had deliberately disobeyed him by breathing a word of his location to anyone. Nevertheless, his apprentice was new and he was powerful. He had to be careful to not run him off no sooner than he got him.

"Obi-Wan snuck on her ship to find me, he wanted to kill me!" Anakin felt his anger rise again. "I killed him, Master. I slaughtered him like the animal he was for trying to do it!"

Anakin had always had a loose grip on his emotions. Toying with the dark side of the force was only proving to make that grip nonexistent.

Focus. Breathe. Focus. Padmé.

"But in my anger," his tone switched from anger to regret. His eyes flashed from sinister yellow to blue. "I tried to hurt Padmé as well. I lost myself - she's not waking up. I don't know what's wrong."

Darth Sidous was more than pleased by the confession of his apprentice. Not only had he slaughtered his old master and best friend without regret, but he nearly took out his own wife in the process. He was turning to the dark side as fast as he had hoped as his desperation, fear, and anger began to consume him. However, Padmé still stood as barrier between the full consummation of Anakin Skywalker to Darth Vader.

How ironic that the very person whom drove him to the dark side was the very same person to keep him from his full potential.

"Bring her to Coruscant and we will get her medical attention," He finally said. "The planet is under our complete control. The remaining Jedi are on the run, you have nothing to fear here."

Anakin bowed his head in thanks, "Thank you, Master."

#anakin fanfiction #anakin x padme #anakin skywalker #anidala #anidala fanfic #darth sidious #fan fic writing #leia organa #leia skywalker #luke skywalker #luke skywalker fanfiction #padme #padme amidala #padme skywalker #palpatine #princess leia #skywalker family #star wars #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #anakin #anakin and padme #obi wan and anakin #suitless vader #darth vader #obi wan #dad vader #vaderkin

[inscrutable-shadow]

Mediwhump May Day 6 - Poisoning (Alt Prompt)

@mediwhumpmay

This is the generic modern AU for Five Card Draw. The Doctor is often called upon to work with other medical professionals on research, and they use the name Rowan Fairbank for non-criminal dealings. Also, just a PSA: don't fuck with people's food! It's illegal, immoral, and not just a prank, you don't always know a person's full medical history and even if you do it's not worth fucking around and finding out.

The Doctor could almost always tell when their colleagues were talking about them behind their back. Not least because it was a near-constant phenomenon, but also because when a person is used to being stared at upon entering a room, when everyone is deliberately avoiding eye contact with you, it’s quite noticeable. They wouldn’t confront anyone over it. It wasn’t worth it and any opportunity to avoid a social interaction was greatly appreciated.

Today, though, there was a sinister edge to the attention. They’d dealt with the criminal underworld long enough to gain an intuition for when other people were conspiring against them, and this feeling was not at all subtle. Best to just top-up their thermos with coffee, shove a scone in their mouth, and get out of the break room. They hated working on this project. Everyone treated them as if their achievements had been bought for them and they didn’t deserve to be there, but taking the assignment seriously had them accused of being a “stick in the mud.” “Hi, Rowan!” The words were cheery, but the voice was dripping with condescension. The Doctor closed their eyes for a moment, taking a steadying breath, then turned to attempt a smile at the person speaking to them: Dr Rose Gallagher, a pulmonologist.

“Good afternoon, Rose.” They tried to go back to their coffee, hoping she would just go away.

She did not. “How’s your coffee? Still no sugar?”

“No, I drink too much to put sugar in, it would be even more unhealthy…” There was enough sugar in the energy drinks, anyhow.

The gaggle of (fully grown, adult) doctors at the other end of the room found this incredibly amusing. “And the gluten-free scones? Those good too?” Wait. That emphasis… Had they…? The Doctor nearly choked on the pastry.

“They are… fine… I am not exactly hungry…” They really weren’t. Their stomach had sunk at the thought that something in the breakroom had been tainted. One would think it would be ridiculous for some of the leading medical minds in the country to do something as awful as intentionally cross-contaminate gluten-free items, but not only were several of the doctors on this placement considerably dumber than their accolades would suggest, they seemed perfectly willing to set aside any question of ethics in the harassment of someone who was different.

The exposure had already occurred. Nothing to be done about it now but scare the living daylights out of their abusers, which would make a very long forty-eight hours worth it. “Surely you are aware of the potential long-term effects of gluten exposure for a celiac patient? Unlikely to kill, yes, but lifelong damage is almost a certainty. My case is particularly severe and quite well managed; it is often five or more years between exposures. My being forced to take two or three days off will delay the project enough for Doctor Pryor to be quite displeased, no?”

“Oh, come on, Rowan, nobody really believes that.” The Doctor didn’t know this man’s name; he was on one of the engineering teams and they were almost exclusively working with pharmaceuticals. “It’s a convenient excuse for having your own coffeepot and no one ever seeing you eat, you owe me thirty, by the way,” he leaned over to Zoster, a neurologist, “but that’s all it is, an excuse for Doctor Pryor to coddle you. You’re completely normal behind that stick up your ass and this proves it. You’re fine.”

“It is not like an allergy. Did you even pass medical school? The small intestine causes the issue. Ridiculous. I could have your licenses for this.” They should have their licenses for this, but it was an empty threat. Too much work and it would only further turn everyone against them. Nothing about their demeanour implied they were anything less than deadly serious, though.

This caused a murmur of uncertainty among the group. “You… can’t prove anything. Maybe the kitchen made a mistake.”

Oh, this was fun. “No? Did you fail to notice the security camera in the corner?” They indicated with their coffee cup, then took a sip. If it was also tainted, well, it couldn’t get worse, could it? “That’s live-feed, you know. It will show someone touching my food items. Also, you did just admit to it. Doctor Pryor has me under audio surveillance to ensure I do not… antagonise my colleagues. I turn in the recordings daily, but I could perhaps be convinced to alter them.” That last bit wasn’t true, but only the Doctor knew that. “Rowan, be reasonable. It was just a prank!”

“I did not find it amusing.”

“...What do you want? Cash?”

They laughed. “Certainly not. Though I do think I just found five lovely volunteers to do all of my cultures for the next several weeks. There are plenty of other menial tasks it seems I will also be converting into free time, but for now, I shall continue my break.” Or rather, take the afternoon off. They left the room, not bothering to eavesdrop on the urgent whispers they left behind.

Two days of cramping and brain fog. Fantastic. They were never going to take an assignment like this again.

taglist: @i-eat-worlds

#whump #original fiction #my writing #mediwhumpmay #whumpblr #the doctor five card draw #london fog au #the whump here mostly comes from the doc being bullied for being weird :/ #i mean tbf they are kind of not a fun person to be around #but they don't exactly deserve this #and these doctors don't even know about the Crimes! #so really there's no excuse for this behavior smh #coy writes

[budddywells]

for: @rafacarreno

where: somewhere in the 'burbs, around 3am

He doesn't know how he got here.

Not physically, he knew exactly how he found himself sat on a curb in a street that felt like a suburban liminal space, pulling a drag from the only cigarette that had survived in the box in his back pocket when he connected with the edge of a marble kitchen island due to a deliberate shove from one angry looking stock broker.

( That was an easy enough thread to follow: stripping at a bachelorette party was fine, going home with the bride who's husband wasn't away on business as expected was where it got messy. )

What he had a hard time discerning was how he got here in a bigger sense. Existentially, it was difficult to discern an exact moment in time that he could point to and say that's where life had went from trucking along to hard then to straight out of his control.

The last two years had put him through the ringer, and it seemed that was now what he did to everyone else around him, intentional or not.

In the scuffle with the now unhappy groom, his phone had fallen victim to the deliberate way it had been thrown to the ground and smashed for good measure, leaving him to try and figure out how the hell he was supposed to get home without the ease of an app.

The kindness of the drunken Samaritan that had spilled out of a taxi with her husband in tow (returning from what he assumed was some sort of PTA gone wild evening out) had started and stopped at letting him use her phone as long as he didn't loiter on her perfectly maintained lawn.

There was only one number he knew off by heart, and that was down to the owner being the kind of consistent he's not sure existed in folks these days. His number never changed, it was the same one that Buddy used to prank call with his friends as a teen on an odd Friday night when he thought that shit was funny just to see if he could get a rise out of him.

It was the same set of digits he had scribbled on the back of a bar mat and offered as a resource when he found himself in conversation with a kid that was too young to be in the same bar as him, and the only number that came to mind when he had been told by HR to provide an emergency contact for his file when he had been working at the bank.

Despite all the ways Buddy had tried to prove his reliability as something alternate, something more sinister -- a facade, an illusion, a kind of long-con before he showed some true colours that were more in line with everyone else in his life that let him down -- Rafael always showed up.

So, he stretched his legs out in front of him, finished off his cigarette and ignored how the ache just under his eye from where a fist had connected with it got more gnawing as the warmth of the whiskey he had been drinking tempered off as he inched closer to sobriety and he waited.

#closed starter. #thread. #ft. rafael carreño. #rafa 001. #rafacarreno #long post cw

[bootlickerhawks]

Twice/Hawks Anon: At first I thought Power feared Makima because the latter could jeopardize her chances of recovering Meowy. However, even after getting her cat back, Power still sweats when Makima addresses her and avoids eye contact when she can. Perhaps Power’s devil senses can detect something sinister about Makima. I

also wonder if Makima grouping Denji with Aki & Power of all people was deliberate. When Denji asked whether Makima was a good person early on, Aki immediately shut down his doubts. Power, on the other hand, is clearly apprehensive toward Makima. However, Power shocked Denji with her unhygienic, deceptive, wild, & immature behavior. Aki, in contrast, acts more rational and responsible. Thus, in pairing them, Makima suggests that those who doubt her goodwill are ludicrous and childish while those who believe in her are reasonable and mature. Though Himeno expresses dislike toward Makima, she inadvertently advances Makima’s agenda in ruining Denji’s first kiss. In now associating Himeno with a putrid memory, Denji probably won’t take Himeno’s word for anything, let alone supposed slander toward his beloved Makima.

#asks #hkjfdskfj it's taking all my self restraint not to say anything #csm asks #twice/hawks anon

[justice-forever]

Hyperion By Green-Mamba

Real Name: Mark Milton

First Appearance: The Avengers #69 (October 1969)

As sure as the sun rose in the West did Earth's greatest hero, the Hyperion, rise to defeat evil.

An extraterrestrial, he was sent to Earth from his doomed home planet as an infant named Zhib-Ran, the last member of his species, their final hope. There, he was found by his new Father, who named him Mark and raised him to be the best man he could be, while coming to terms with his alien power to absorb the energy of the sun, granting him unfathomable strength and superhuman abilities.

Taking the title Hyperion, he used these powers to fight for truth, justice, and the American way, and together with like minded heroes he formed the Squadron Supreme, a league of the bravest and boldest men and women on the planet.

Headquartered in America's capital on the West coast, they were Washington DC's finest heroes.

But over time, Mark felt that the Squadron was not doing enough to help their fellow man.

Supervillains they could put a stop to, but disease, natural disasters, poverty, hunger... these were out of their reach. Thus began the Utopia Project.

Lead by Mark, the Squadron agreed to take over the United States government by force and take the reins.

Forcibly reprogramming supervillains, wealth redistribution, and vast humanitarian efforts the world over were now all within their control.

But natural disasters across the globe were getting worse, not better, and there seemed to be no recourse.

It was not until the Squadron's greatest scientific mind, Thomas Thompson, made a breakthrough discovery did they have any clue to the worsening situation.

They were not the only Earth.

Theirs was an exact mirror image of another, a counter-Earth, inhabiting the orbital plane but phase shifted in such a way the two could never touch or see each other.

Something of infinite power had separated the two Earths in the long ancient past but also anchored them together, and it was gone now.

And it would be up to the Squadron Supreme to make first contact with their neighboring world.

So basically rather than from another universe, the Squadron Supreme come from Counter-Earth here.

The Squadron Supreme are a fun part of the Marvel universe, a really earnest pastiche of the Justice League, not mean spirited like some of the cross company parodies can be, and they've managed to remain relevant in many different incarnations throughout the years.

And obviously, if I am going to touch on the Squadron Supreme, that means Hyperion has to be the first to appear. I kept his same basic origin the same (which is... basically Superman's), though I'm not sure if he is an Eternal or whatever here like in the comics.

I'm leaving what he actually is unanswered for now.

My big change came from reimagining the Squadron Supreme as coming from Counter-Earth, which, while phase shifted out of Earth's view and touch, is technically in the same universe.

I left some clues to it being mirrored in my bio, with the sun rising in the West and what not.

Oh, and that "first appearance" listed there is actually the cosmic construct Hyperion that appeared in the Squadron Sinister, not the Mark Milton Squadron Supreme Hyperion that appeared two years later--but I did include a reference to the original Hyperion with his alien name of "Zhib-Ran," so you could consider this to be a combination of both versions.

For his design, I basically, uh, drew Superman? And then colored him like Hyperion? More or less.

I had originally based him on his black and gold color from Hickman's Avengers run, but eventually settled for his classic red and gold colors.

I deliberately tried to make him as a straightforward superhero, no reimagining his cape to be coat or civilian clothes or anything like that, the Squadron Supreme are just fantastical superheroes to kind of deliberately play against my (relatively) more grounded universe. I did decided to get rid of the outdated atom design for his chest emblem and switch it up to the astronomical symbol for the sun, you know, cause that's where he gets his power from.

This one had to be uploaded a little later in the day due to me being busier today than I had anticipated.

Thanks for your patience.

#comics #comic #comic books #comics books #marvel #marvel comics #marvel universe #hyperion #squadron supreme #redesign

[serephinastardust]

The Book I'm writing, 1st attempt b4 I got it titled- Chapter 15

As they approached the campsite, the commotion became more audible. Selene's voice rose above the others, casting Odessa in a sinister light. "I told you she was no good! A thief in our midst. We should've left her in that wretched meadow where she belongs!"

Odessa's eyes flickered toward Seraphina, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. Meanwhile, the camp was in chaos. Leon was visibly distressed, Kael agitated, and even Xander seemed perturbed by the unexpected disappearance of their seemingly harmless companion. Selene continued her tirade, adding more fuel to the fire.

Seraphina whispered to Odessa, her tone laced with amusement, "Looks like your friends are quite concerned about your well-being. Little do they know what an act you're putting on, my plain friend."

Odessa, still playing her part, cast a glance at Seraphina, silently wondering how this unexpected turn of events could be exploited to her advantage.

Odessa and Seraphina lingered at the edge of the campsite, far enough away to remain unnoticed, yet close enough to observe the unfolding drama. The campfire cast flickering shadows on the tense faces of the group. Selene's accusations echoed in the night air, creating an atmosphere charged with suspicion and unease.

As the group debated Odessa's disappearance, Seraphina leaned in and whispered, "Plan B, my dear. Let them fret a little longer. It will make your grand return all the more dramatic."

Odessa's eyes betrayed no emotion as she continued to survey the scene. She was formulating a mental checklist of the key players and their emotional states. Leon, concerned and protective; Kael, annoyed and distrustful; Xander, his expression revealing a mix of irritation and curiosity. It was a delicate dance, and Odessa was determined to lead.

Meanwhile, Seraphina couldn't help but revel in the chaos she had subtly orchestrated. She smirked at the unfolding drama, confident that her manipulation would yield results in their favor.

Odessa took a moment to adjust her appearance before reentering the campsite. With a few quick, deliberate movements, she transformed her disheveled disguise into that of a lost wanderer. She shook out her hair, allowing it to cascade around her face in a disarrayed but purposeful manner.

Her clothing, previously arranged for stealth and practicality, was now shifted to create a more innocent, unassuming impression. She tugged at the fabric, ensuring it hung loosely and giving the appearance of someone who had been wandering aimlessly through the meadow.

As the chaos continued to unfold in the campsite, Odessa took a step forward, catching Seraphina's attention. The moonlight played on Odessa's face, revealing her disguised features. With a subtle nod, Odessa conveyed to Seraphina that it was time for her to improvise.

"Stay here and watch," Odessa whispered to Seraphina, her voice barely audible over the murmur of the group. "When I give you the signal, play along."

As she approached the campsite, she adopted a slightly hunched posture, as though fatigue weighed heavily on her shoulders. She strategically smeared a bit of dirt on her cheek, adding to the illusion of someone who had spent hours navigating the unfamiliar terrain.

Seraphina raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Odessa's bold move. Odessa turned away, approaching the group with a casual saunter. She intentionally avoided eye contact with Xander, playing the part of a wanderer who had lost her way.

Kael and Leon spotted her first, their expressions shifting from worry to relief. Leon rushed forward, his concern evident in his voice. "Essa, where have you been? We've been searching for you!"

Odessa maintained her composed facade, her eyes scanning the campsite. "Oh, you know, just exploring the meadow. Got a bit turned around. Didn't realize I wandered so far."

Kael frowned, still skeptical, but Leon, always eager to help, offered her a hand. "Come on, let's get you back to the campfire. Everyone was worried."

Selene approached Odessa with a flurry of questions, her words pouring out like a waterfall of accusations. "So, Odessa, you've been plotting all along, haven't you? A secret alliance, a clandestine scheme to manipulate us all. What's your endgame?"

Odessa, maintaining her role as the lost wanderer, responded with a steadfast silence. Selene's enthusiasm only grew as she spun a web of intrigue around Odessa. "I can see it now – you've been playing us like puppets, orchestrating events from the shadows. The stolen glances, the mysterious disappearances – it all makes sense!"

The accusations became more elaborate and specific, with Selene crafting a narrative that mirrored the recent events. "You convinced Seraphina to join your cause, didn't you? What are you really after?"

Odessa's response remained an unwavering silence, her expression revealing nothing. Selene, fueled by her own creativity, continued to pile on the speculative details. "You wanted to distract us, make us believe you were just a helpless wanderer. But I see through your act, Odessa. You're the puppet master pulling the strings!"

As Selene delved deeper into her imaginary plot, Xander's cold gaze fell upon her. Selene, now unsure of her own narrative, faltered in the face of Odessa's silent composure. "You can't stay silent forever, Odessa. We'll find out the truth," Selene declared before retreating, her confidence shaken by the mysterious wanderer's unyielding silence.

Odessa found herself unexpectedly face to face with Xander, her heart quickening at the sudden turn of events. She met his penetrating gaze with a deliberate calm, a façade that masked the inner chaos. Selene's abrupt movement had inadvertently placed her in the direct line of Xander's scrutiny.

Internally, Odessa willed herself to remain composed, drawing upon the art of deception she had mastered over the years. "Stay calm," she whispered to herself, suppressing the flutter of nerves. "You are just a wanderer who lost her way. Nothing more."

As Xander's cold gaze bore into her, she began to weave a narrative, each word calculated to reinforce her innocence. "Prince Xander," she began, her voice steady, "I found myself disoriented in the meadow, wandering too far from the group. The vastness of this place led me astray, and for a while, I couldn't hear your calls."

Odessa continued with a carefully crafted tale of confusion and the eventual rediscovery of the group's voices. "I assure you, my lord, my intentions were never malicious. I am merely a lost soul, seeking her way back to familiar grounds."

The air hung heavy with tension as Odessa awaited Xander's response. The delicate balance between truth and deception rested on the edge of his judgment. She maintained her outward composure, all the while acutely aware of the precarious nature of the narrative she had spun.

In the moonlit silence of the campsite, Odessa's heart pounded in her chest as she approached Xander, her every movement a carefully choreographed dance of innocence. She kept her gaze fixed on him, willing her eyes to betray nothing but wide-eyed sincerity. The amulet Seraphina had given her nestled against her skin, a tangible reminder of the risky plan she was about to set in motion.

As Odessa drew closer, Xander's expression shifted from confusion to mild surprise. Her faux-trip, a calculated misstep, worked like a charm. Their bodies collided, sending them both sprawling to the ground. In the blink of an eye, the entire camp fell silent, everyone's attention drawn to the unexpected spectacle unfolding before them.

Time seemed to stretch as Odessa and Xander found themselves entwined on the forest floor. In that suspended moment, she seized the opportunity, pressing her lips to his. The spark that surged between them was undeniable, a fleeting connection that left Odessa momentarily breathless. It was a calculated risk, a gambit she had not entirely anticipated.

The camp, now plunged into an almost magical hush, watched the scene unfold with collective astonishment. Odessa's heart raced not only from the audacity of her actions but also from the strange energy that seemed to crackle in the air. For a moment, everything hung in delicate balance.

Then, as if the universe itself had granted her a momentary respite, Odessa snapped back to reality. The spark of connection faded, replaced by a sense of disorientation. As the camp around them slowly stirred back to life, Odessa felt a renewed urgency. With a single, focused thought, she activated the moon shadow amulet.

The moment Odessa activated the moon shadow amulet, an alternate reality unfurled around her—a vivid illusion where she and Xander were still locked in a passionate kiss. The deceptive glamour seemed to envelop them, and even Xander, lost in the illusion, believed in the reality that wasn't. In this mirage, time lingered on the precipice of the stolen kiss.

Seizing the opportunity, Odessa deftly navigated the illusory landscape, her focus unwavering on the sealed lunar ember blossom. She moved with a purpose, the locket at her neck glinting as she carefully stowed away the precious flower. In this ephemeral reality, she achieved her clandestine goal, hidden from the prying eyes of both friend and foe.

The illusion persisted, capturing a stolen moment of intimacy between Odessa and the unsuspecting Xander. The camp, caught in the visual enchantment, watched the scene unfold with wide-eyed fascination. It was a tableau of illusion, a carefully crafted diversion within the moonlit tapestry.

Kael's attempt to speak resulted in a broken, "Wha—what in the—"

Leon, equally perplexed, managed only a fragmented, "I th—th-this can't be—"

Selene's disapproval manifested in a series of high-pitched screeches, each one a discordant note in the bizarre symphony that unfolded.

Amidst the chaotic sounds, Seraphina's voice wavered as she muttered, "Sto—stop this," her words a fragmented plea.

In the midst of the confusion, the illusory kiss continued, leaving the observers trapped in a surreal moment where communication faltered, and reality seemed to unravel.

As the illusion reached its zenith, Odessa allowed it to break with deliberate precision. The kiss, so vivid just moments ago, dissipated into the night. With a swift, apologetic retreat, she disentangled herself from Xander, a blush tinting her cheeks as she feigned embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with faux shame. "I didn't mean to... I just got lost in the moment." Her hands clasped together in a contrite gesture, Odessa turned the attention away from the illusionary kiss, clapping her hands above her head.

Seraphina, with a sly smile, approached the group. "Ah, Crown Prince Xander, what a peculiar situation we find ourselves in."

Xander, still recovering from the unexpected kiss, nodded but maintained a regal composure. "Seraphina Vossheart, to what do we owe this visit?"

Seraphina continued, her words dripping with subtle mockery. "It's been quite some time since I visited the Azure Empire. I must admit, the sight of a plain companion stealing a kiss from a prince is a rare entertainment. The Azure Empire is full of surprises, wouldn't you agree, Crown Prince?"

Xander maintained his calm demeanor, responding with a measured tone. "Indeed, Lady Seraphina. The Azure Empire is a place of unpredictability."

While Seraphina and Xander exchanged pleasantries, the tension in the air thickened. Odessa, sensing an opportunity to escape, started inching away from the campsite, her movements carefully calculated to avoid detection.

The night erupted in chaos as Seraphina's voice clashed with the whispers of conflict. The Azure Empire meadow, once bathed in the tranquil glow of the full moon, became a stage for confrontation. Seraphina's accusations echoed through the air, charging the atmosphere with a mix of anger and frustration.

As the confrontation escalated, Odessa seized the opportune moment, her agile form weaving through the shadows as the skirmish between Seraphina's elders and the group erupted. The urgency in Seraphina's tone and the chaos unfolding behind her only fueled Odessa's determination to reach Umbral Haven unscathed.

With each calculated step, Odessa navigated the uneven terrain, her mental map serving as a guide through the dark meadow. The sounds of clashing cultivators and the distant echoes of Seraphina's accusations resonated, urging her to quicken her pace.

The revelation of the Fallen Star Court lingered in Odessa's mind, adding an additional layer of mystery to the unfolding events. The meadow, once a place of serenity, now crackled with energy as the confrontation intensified.

Bolting through the night, Odessa focused on a singular goal—reaching the sanctuary of Umbral Haven before the ripples of the conflict caught up with her.

#female writers #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writers blog #seraphinastardust #writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing community #writers #writer #novice writer #writers and writing #writers and readers #writerscreed #writers of tumblr #writers community #fantasy book #book blog #book writing #booklr

[esglatestmarketnews]

U.S. Ophthalmic Devices—a Deep-dive on the Patient Population based on Gender and Age Groups

The burgeoning aging population and a surge in obesity & diabetic cases have put the spotlight on advanced ophthalmic devices. The National Institute on Aging (NIA) estimates the geriatric population to reach 72 million by 2030, while the WHO suggests around 422 million people are living with diabetes. These trends imply the prevalence of vision impairment and blindness due to diabetic retinopathy, cataracts, glaucoma, age-related macular degeneration and vitreo-retinal disorders. Besides, the onset of the COVID-19 outbreak led to increased screen time, spurring the demand for eye examinations. 

Grand View Research has aptly paid heed to the evolving customer preferences and the paradigm shift witnessed in the healthcare & medical space. The final report, along with the database, will deliberate upon the following industry dynamics:

The demand for minimally invasive surgeries, including multi-wavelength diabetic retinopathy treatment and LASIK surgery.

Trend for ophthalmic devices across hospitals and eye clinics. 

Early detection and treatment of eye diseases to help prevent vision loss. 

Significance of adults receiving eye exams: The American Academy of Ophthalmology mentions that over 22 million adults grapple with vision impairment, and 61 million U.S. adults are at a high risk of vision loss. 

The influence of AI as well as the impact of campaigns and programs.

Get your copy or request for a free sample of the report “U.S. Ophthalmic Patient Population Statistics Study Report”, compiled and published by Grand View Research.

Attribute

U.S. Ophthalmic Patient Population (2022)

Age Groups

Gender

Glass Vs Contact Lenses

Single Vision Vs Multifocal

Number of LASIK surgeries

Ethnicity

Population wearing glasses

% of people that wear glasses for Single Vision Vs Multifocal

Number of people wearing bifocal, trifocal, and progressive lenses

% of the population that has an oculus dexter and oculus sinister measurement between -6 and +6 in the prescription)

Get more insights from our in-depth market intelligence report “Ophthalmic Devices Market Analysis By Product (Optical Coherence Tomography, Ophthalmic Ultrasound), By Application (Cataract, Glaucoma), By End Use (Hospitals and Eye Clinics) And Segment Forecasts, 2022 – 2030.”

About Us Grand View Research, Inc. is a market research and consulting company that provides off-the-shelf, customized research reports and consulting services. To help clients make informed business decisions, we offer market intelligence studies ensuring relevant and fact-based research across a range of industries, from technology to chemicals, materials and energy. With a deep-seated understanding of varied business environments, Grand View Research provides strategic objective insights.

Find More information @ https://www.grandviewresearch.com/info/trend-reports

#U.S. Ophthalmic Patient Population #U.S. Ophthalmic Devices #Ophthalmic Patient Population

[dzpenumbra]

Bah, it's 5 AM again. I got back on a nocturnal schedule real quick. All it took was not going into nature for a few days, and having very little social contact for a while. You wanna know something fucking nuts, and why I love and hate weed? It makes this voice pop out in the constant noise that is my thoughts. This voice is super insightful, super blunt and just tells me exactly what's up whether I like it or not. I saw some guy on a podcast talk about this, a cannabis growing expert plantologist kinda dude. He was talking about the plant being used as a psychological medicine here, like the cannabis spirit or something. He said, and it obviously stuck with me, "cannabis can show you what's getting between you and happiness." Fucking dead on what this voice is, this voice that is likely a part of me that just gets constantly drowned out by other more loud and needy parts of me. Like my fear.

Before I dive too far off into a tangent on how goddamn crazy that shit is, how huge and dynamically changing the human psyche is... this was what the voice decided to drop on my lap right at the beginning of this. "If you got back on Facebook, you wouldn't have any of these problems." Holy. Fuck. Right?! It's 100% true, for someone in my "Late Millennial" bracket. But it's also so powerfully devastating. Like "you could've prevented all this", "you're doing this to yourself, just go back, everyone else is doing it." And then there's the sinister layer, "we designed Facebook to do this, to deliberately keep all interactions HERE where we can pump ads down your throat and you can farm money for us, and if you LEAVE... you will lose all your connections. No publicity for your art, music, writing. No one knows or cares what's going on in your life. You're not invited to anything. You are perpetually out of the loop and it's YOUR fault. You will lose all of your connections outside of those that are like... best friends. And maybe family, if you're on good terms. So... choose wisely, you're free to leave at any time."

I left in 2017. It was 5 years ago when I was declared legally dead on Facebook. Since then, it just went downhill. I'm getting lost in memories right now, being this close to sleep just makes it really easy to slip into those visual, experiential dream-like imaginative states. It's cool shit. I was just remembering trying to reconnect with Facebook a few years ago and it being pretty embarrassing in hindsight. So that's clearly getting in between me and happiness/connection. Cool.

So... do I go back to social media?

I guess that counts Twitter too, I left because having gifs of people being shot and all the political peer pressure and shit just literally sucked the soul out of me. It was just devastating to be around it. I wanted to socialize and just chill and plug my art and streams and shit but people had just been like chompin at the bit to fight over LITERALLY ANYTHING so I just had to dip. I can't live like that. It literally sucks the life out of me, I don't need to give my life for that, I'd much sooner put that time and energy into working on my next project. Fuuuuck that shit.

So... again... Do I go back? Do I brave this shit and swallow my pride and go back to Facebook, so I can get access to housing rentals (desperate need), plug my shit to people who haven't talked to me in 10 years. Put my thoughts and shit on there again? Reboot the public story of my life and see if people actually want to be part of it this time? Will they even interact with me outside of Facebook? It's a tough call. It's a really tough one.

The blue-green light of Dawn is poking her head through the cracks of my curtains so I think it's time to wrap this up. I'm glad I wrote tonight, this has been very insightful and I have a lot to think about here.

Fucked that this is the state of the world though, just putting that out there.

#diary #stream of thoughts #journal #spilled thoughts #facebook #social media

[snail-sugar]

Garden Beetles

This was the moment I learned what love is.

We had been walking through the woods, my only friend and I, and it had just started to rain. It was the sort of rain that doesn’t necessarily fall so much as linger, settling in a thin mist around us. It was cold. I distinctly remember that it was cold.

Our footsteps padded, eerily quiet, along the brush of the forest floor. There was not a single creature around, nothing other than the beetles. They flew around everywhere, seeming intent upon landing on every available surface of my clothes and skin. I stopped shooing them away at some point. Maybe I gave up, knowing that I could not stop them all, or maybe I grew to enjoy the company. The beetles were those odd little orange ones, I think they’re called grapevine beetles, or garden beetles. Whatever they were meant to be called, I would gain a harsh core memory of them within my heart after today.

The only thing more prominent than the beetles flying around me was the silence of my friend. It was not a lack of conversation, but a lack of meaning within his words. We talked about nothing. “How is your brother doing?” “What did you do yesterday?” “Did you enjoy work last night?” There was something about the conversation that felt like code, but I could not decipher it.

Then, it hit me. It hit me, and I forgot the beetles. Everything he was asking me, everything we were talking about, at least on his end, implied something sinister. It was all about the past, even if it was the recent past. There was something deliberate in the way he avoided the future, no “what are you doing tomorrow?” and no “are you excited for your plans on Saturday?” The implication was that there would be no tomorrow. At least, not for me.

On a normal day, I may not have noticed. But today was not a normal day. He had called me out of the blue, asking if I would walk in the woods with him. He said he knew this spot in the local forest that I just had to see. Then, when we drove up here, he didn’t say much in the car. He was always a talker. And even now, he walked behind me, staying about five paces back this whole time. Something was off about him. He seemed… distracted.

“Are you ok, Pierce?” I asked him, though I knew it was dangerous at this point.

He paused. He paused for a worrying amount of time, as if he wasn’t going to answer me. I chanced a glance back at him, warily. He had stopped walking, and was staring at his feet, gently shaking his head. I quickly looked forward again and kept walking, hoping to break this moment that I had caused.

Then, he spoke. 

“I’m fine, Grayson. I’m doing just fine.”

The sadness in his voice was not lost on me. The beetles returned, reminding me of their presence among us by whizzing past my ear. I didn’t bother shooing them away. I knew by now that it was inevitable.

I sighed, and I turned fully around to face him. That’s when I saw the gun in his hand. A small pistol, the kind used for up close and personal assassinations. I felt no surprise seeing it. Only sadness. It was as if I knew all along why we were coming out here. Still, I was suddenly unsteady on my feet.

“Pierce?” I stuttered through quivering lips.

He remained there, staring at his feet - no, at the gun - just shaking his head. We stood there like that for a long time. The beetles zooming around, latching onto my coat and my hair and my face, seemed to understand the situation better than we did. No matter what we did next, the beetles would be happy.

Finally, he looked up at me. He raised the gun and aimed it square at my head. Or my face. Or just at me. There was a sad eye contact between us. My face shaking and covered in beetles, his stony and sure, as though he had been planning this for a long time. As if he was prepared for his next move.

Suddenly, from some deep place inside me, I began to chuckle. So did he. It slowly changed into full on laughter, loud and raucous, scaring the beetles.

“Oh, Grayson,” he began. “You never should’ve married that guy.”

“I know,” I replied. “I know.”

We caught our breath with a sigh. We smiled at each other, softly. Like old friends. We were old friends. We knew in our hearts that he would pull the trigger, that I would pull the trigger if it were me over there. All of our problems, all of our desires, all of our home and family and work and things, suddenly became like nothing. All that there was was each other. In that moment, we had everything that we needed. This moment was ours. We were whole. We were everything.

I closed my eyes and began to turn around.

“No, man,” he stopped me. “Don’t try to make this easier. I want to see you.”

I think I must have imagined it, but I could swear his voice broke on the last syllable.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I smiled and returned to my original position.

We waited for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, he put the gun down and shook his head. He turned around and walked away without a word. Within seconds, he was gone into the forest. All that was left was me and the beetles. My world walked away with him. I was a half of who I was. Only a half. 

I never saw him again. They say he just took off, leaving his husband and child at home. A cryptic note was on his dresser, saying simply “left on the grapevine”. No one knew what it meant, but me. To this day, those grapevine beetles are my whole world. I have nothing if I do not have my beetles.

#writers #short stories #beetles #original content #my writing