#shattered realms twisted reality

[shattered-realm-twisted-reality]

PART TWO: Thoxa’s Voice

(This is the beginning of Thoxa's tale, her links with the wider world of SRTR, and the beginning of a great adventure for a small wanna-be idol! Please forgive any spelling/grammar issues, I'm not the best editor!) From an early age there had always been a rumor, a passed down story that was still believed within the little community in the Crystal Caverns. Everyone had some sort of taint from the Crystals all around them. The goblins had adapted best of all being the first of the cave dwellers. They knew the magic in the shining walls. Crystal Goblins as they were now called, had been the first because of their mysterious ancestor bringing her family here and raising them within the caverns and their wealth of resources and safety within the large network of cave systems, spread worldwide.

“Fae folk created the caverns,” Graying sparkling goblin grandmas would whisper by the hearth at night. “There was a great war among them, as humanity began to crawl out of its cradle. They created a twin world, a shining realm—but their conflict shattered it. It’s said the magic collapsed into the Earth, spreading like a virus through the Underground.” Wide eyed listeners would admire the formations all around them, the gently glowing cyan and pink and every color in between. Pulsing with life, with ancient power that worked in unpredictable ways. Another rumor about these mysterious Fae was far more substantial when those who explored outside the caves came back with tales about a mysterious forest at the base of the mountain. It was a beautiful and confusing place, and no matter what the weather was, the closer they got to it the warmer and more spring-like it became, and the sun would seem to set. This was enough to deter most: they needed to get home before dark. If they ventured on, they’d begin to find structures that seemed to be made of crystals: great cracked pillars shining stories high, or crumbling walls and roads. Eventually though, before they could explore further, the outsiders would feel dizzy and then return to their original path, the forest now behind them.

“It has to be Fae folk, still out there. No other kin or kind can do such tricks.” The elders of the caves would say among one another, shaking their heads. “Best to steer clear, it’s more than we can understand.”

These rumors are the mysteries of the Underground, the world Thoxa has always known. Born to simple farming folk in the Southern Reaches of the Caverns, she was eagerly independent from a young age, knowing that someday the tunnels could lead her to new and exciting places, much like that ancient ancestor learned. The rumors of fae, of the magic, of course always fascinated her–she loved the glittering power of the crystals, how they took her over from a young age, growing from her smooth skin, little glowing gems. Even her stretch marks seemed to show she was a glowing crystal herself, cracking over her glowing skin like a geode. “Built-In Glam!” She’d call it, also obsessed with any little trinket about pop stars, idols, as well as fashion and music of all kinds. She began to learn the tunnels around her home well, making friends and exploring the Above, usually little suburban neighborhood dumps where she could find discarded CD’s and tapes, ripped clothes and out of style magazines. Her glowing skin and eyes made these trips work best at night, when they aided her in searching for her treasures. She’d make herself little shows in abandoned small caves, bending over tees to bedazzle them and lip syncing to decades old Britney. When she reached maturity, these girlish fantasies never seemed to die along with the rest of her childhood dreams. Eventually Thoxa was on her own, packing her things and setting off to live further into the mountains, finding some friendly locals to share a home with for protection’s sake, and because well–life is lonely in the Underground without some cavemates.

It was this same mountain that those who explored Above said the Fae Forest was. When she heard that, she became excited–glittering faeries were another childhood dream of sorts, but the forest alone sounded beautiful. Whole towers of crystal? She had to find out for herself. However she was used to striking out at night, so plotted her journey and set out after dusk, her eyes keen on the dark trail. “This way,” She muttered, studying a little hand-drawn map she’d made, based on all that she had researched. Despite the young goblin woman’s silly demeanor, she was rather mature and clever, planning ahead for weeks before setting out. She’d even made sure the weather would be nice, but not too warm. She had to feel the Springtime for herself.

The cave entrance was near the base of the mountain, so thankfully finding her way down the narrow path wasn’t too difficult. Even if some of the steeper drops made her nervous, feet always a bit clumsy. Once at the bottom, she looked around…it was a little hilly landscape, dotted with stands of pine and oak here and there, but not exactly a forest. A landmark–she’d been told that they turned when they reached a big bounder, fallen from the mountain. Which direction, and where the boulder might be, she didn’t know. Gathering a courageous little inhale, she set her repaired hiking boots in the direction of the pines, figuring some trees meant more trees, and the boulder had to roll down straight-ish from the rocky hillside. It felt like hours, going through the nighttime world, on edge to be Above in a still unfamiliar territory.

This wasn’t the quiet Above back home, it was wilderness all around with owls and bats sweeping overhead for their supper, and the slow start of spring frogs chirping from the nearby creek. She saw this world in shades of gray and black, the moon hidden away behind the clouds, but the cave dweller still pressed on, able to clearly see her path and avoid tripping over tree roots. At last a boulder, covered over with moss, called from the right hand side, a big mound in the dark. Rushing over, she put her hand on it with a little laugh, smacking the ancient granite. “HA! Found ya. Now…what next.” She looked around at the trees, closed her eyes, tried to feel the air, get a hint somehow. It was possible she’d find nothing—that the researched stories from old borrowed books and talking with the locals were all too old and the information a true fairy tale now.

Why then did her heart race so much? She was nervous, even fearful of this unfamiliar dark. Biting her lip, she pulled out a cheap set of earbuds, attached to a long outdated Ipod. Music to steady the nerves, but one earbud out and dangling as she made her way towards the old oaks. “B-baby can’t you see, I’m callin’…” She sang nervously under her breath, clutching the map in one hand, her device in the other.

Her feet found a rhythm, a dance, and she began to move forward through the trees, hopeful as they thickened. The music helped, chasing away any spooky vibes with bubblegum stained optimism. She tucked her Ipod into her jacket pocket, shoving the arm up and holding it out as she paused. It was–a little warmer. “Ha, getting’ warmer,” She laughed to herself, and then nearly tripped. Stumbling, she turned to see what had caught her toe–only to gasp at the sight of the biggest single white crystal she’d ever seen, poking casually out of the ground, cracked a little on one side. “Woah.” She crouched, eyes wide as a hand stroked it. “So pretty.” It was still dark, so it glowed like her, but maybe brighter–warmer. It felt warm too, like sunshine had been beating down on it recently. She rose and kept going forward, determined. “I won’t let you turn me away,” She called out in a sing-song. “I know what you wanna do–” She reached into her backpack, taking out a little roll of pink ribbon and a pocket knife. “But I won’t let you confuse me.” She tied a bow around a low branch, and then kept moving. Every few trees, another bow to track her way. If she saw them again ahead, she knew she was being twisted.

However she wasn’t expecting her next find. A great stone and crystal gate–no it was ALL made of the same white quartz, shining and cracked around the edges. Her breath caught and she stopped still, hands tensing at her sides, still carrying the ribbon and map.

“No way…” She reached out, feeling something strange. A sensation that flooded her own emotions, making her fearful of the gate, doubtful of herself. Her hand hesitated before touching it, but when she did it was even warmer. Looking past it, she could see the trees closing in all around, dense and lush, different than before. The air even smelled different, fresher, the hint of nearby running water on the wind. Yet her body seemed to stay still in place, refusing to carry her through the gate. She didn’t have to go through it, she could have gone around—

She smiled to herself. “But that’s not the way we do things, right?” She took another deep breath again and took out her earbuds, tucked the ipod and ribbon into her bag again. All the stories, all the magic simmering in the background of her own existence–here it felt REAL. Like it was undeniable that this gate was purposeful, a trick, a challenge. So she forced her foot forward, with a grunt, then another. “I’m stubborn,” She huffed in defiement. “And too curious. I gotta know why we glow–I gotta know—” She didn’t make sense, she was standing inside the archway now and feeling a wave of dizziness. “It’s a trick,” She huffed, and pushed through. It felt like something sort of gave way, and from one second she was in the chilly forest and the next–someplace entirely. Someplace both beautiful and ruined.

Dusk had settled in, forever. The trees spaced now elegantly and healthy on either side, a cracked and meandering white path dotting through the lush grass under her feet. It was spring, balmy and delightful but not hot. The air smelled like sweet blooms, the sound of a nearby spring burbling away. As she walked, she noticed more cracked crystal, walls, pillars, doorways. Huge shards stuck out here and there, bursting from the soft earth and glowing like sunrise.

“Oh my what a sight.” A little voice chimed out of the tree above, a little blooming maple. Twisting, Thoxa found herself face to face with a little pixie. Dark round eyes shining down from the flowery branches, gossamer lavender and silver hair flowing down around her nude humanoid body, her arms like bird wings with blue and silver opal feathers, her legs feathery and clawed to match.

“I-I could say ditto.” Thoxa finally found her voice, unable to help the uneasy laughter as the little pixie fluttered down, perching on a closer branch as the goblin stepped forward. “What is this place?”

“A place where even the most glittery little goblin should not tread!” Pixie giggled, the sound shrill. “You remind me of a story though. Of a little goblin and a big dragon who live in caves in the mountain. She was shiny too, all ate up by the Glowing.”

“G-glowing, a dragon?!” Thoxa looked around–was this the only faerie here? She was told the Fae all disappeared eons before they knew about them. “H-how…”

“Oh I’ve been here a long time, but this place is frozen in time since—” The Pixie squinted. “Shouldn’t the Veil have turned you back though?”

“I’m guessing that’s the weirdness I felt going through that,” She hooked her thumb at the white archway many yards behind her. The Pixie giggled.

“Oh you are a little fool! Or brave. Or blessed! Who knows. The magic here is wild, returned to Gaia with very few orders in place.”

“I don’t–” Thoxa tried to keep up, not really understanding what the Pixie meant as she suddenly jumped to her feet, fluttering up in front of the goblin’s face.

“Keep going, explore. You might as well—you may never go back to where you came from now!” She giggled as Thoxa’s heart sank with fear, those panicked eyes wide as Pixie whizzed away into the treetops, leaving a little aura of glitter behind her. All around here, there seemed to stir some acknowledgement of her presence–she felt watched.

“I-I can just go back through, right…?” She said, turning—but the archway, the white gate, was gone. Nothing but more cracked towers leaning to one side, crumbling walls. All of it still shining and warm, some covered by moss and vines and wildflowers. A showing of time indeed passing, or simply nature struggling against the ruins. Thoxa moved forward, figuring the Pixie might have been helpful telling her to explore. Maybe something more lay ahead.

And something more did. Over a small hill, she was treated to the sight of an old building, the front walls destroyed entirely, the back and sides crumbling. It revealed the inside like a cracked open dollhouse of what looked to be a once grand room, with colorful stained glass motifs of graceful figures, shattered across their faces. The floor was made of wide tiles, leading up to a platform at the back, shredded tapestries hanging behind what remained of a throne. A creek had dug a path through the room, burbling clean water among the pale soft ruins, moss and grass taking over between the cracks.

As Thoxa drew near, all seemed to grow still and hushed. Her old boots shuffled across the stone, and she felt like she was in a fancy cathedral she had seen in movies, the hole in the ceiling of the place showing the lavender starry sky above. Always dusk. The tapestry shuffled without wind and Thoxa froze in place. “H-hello? I-I’m sorry to have come here–like this,” She began, speaking with uncertainty but compelled to talk to the mysterious chamber around her. “”I’ve always wanted to know–about the magic you know? The crystals have always been around me—they’re inside me.” She touched one stone on her face. “A-and I always thought–the stories of the F-fae were connected, truly. I believed.”

“We are all connected by a greater power,” A smooth delicate voice, not the shrill cry of the Pixie, answered her from behind the throne. A young human-like woman stepped out, as if the air simply breathed her into existence. She was of course taller than the goblin, but still small and willowy, her body clothed in a shift of pearly silk and her hair a shining pale opal–white, then pink, then blue, shifting colors in the dying light of the sun. Her skin even seemed the same, shimmering in a way even the Crystal Goblin’s couldn’t. Her eyes were strange, almost like opals too with no pupil at all. Yet clearly she wasn’t blind as she floated down to Thoxa, tilting her head and smiling a little as Thoxa stepped back. Her movements were unsettling as was her gaze.

“A long time ago, our kind, the Fae as you call them, had a great disaster. I am all that remains of my kingdom now, awakened only briefly in this place…trapped here as an Oracle for the other Courts.” She spoke with a whispering voice Thoxa leaned in close to hear, feeling her body tremble in the presence of this creature. A real Fae, talking to HER.

“I remember little of what caused it–but the violence of the disaster was so great, it cracked the Great Veil, sending Gaia into the Earth weeping–and so her soul, shattered, spread. Into the Underground.” A thin pale hand reached for Thoxa’s own, touching the blue crystal growing there. “It has left its mark so much more than shining rocks. Her magic is unpredictable, Her Will unknowable by even me, one so close to her grave.”

Thoxa felt like sobbing. The woman’s voice was smooth, unfaltering, but the words a melody of sadness, a song of a great tragedy she’d never understand. Kneeling, she shook her head and wiped her teary eyes.

“I-I’m sorry it’s just…” Maybe it was that single touch, a spark from the source. It compelled her to feel what this woman felt, in the realest sense of the word. Like she was sharing her emotions without knowing. The opal woman smiled serenely all the while, watching the goblin try to collect herself. “I also know of Gaia’s influence on one like you, saving you–and now look. You shine from within with the Goddess’ own power, in those shining marks. You knew it all along–you must share something of your ancestor, who was saved.”

“S-saved?” Thoxa blinked, looking up and finally rising. “Oh yes. I remember dreaming of her stirring, of how she felt connected to a goblin on the brink of her own death, a real death, caused by her own outpouring of Mana in the Underground. She reached out and pulled her back, leaving her with the touch of the Goddess. Who knows what might have happened since but clearly it’s had a lasting influence.” The woman paused, seeming to realize something as Thoxa turned over what it meant. What had that first goblin gone through, to nearly die and be saved by a Fae Goddess?! “You have a voice inclined to song,” She muttered thoughtfully after a moment. “It will manifest, if you let it. This Goddess power, this gift through the centuries. Perhaps you are that same soul reborn now for a new purpose.” She shrugged, smiling. “I am an Oracle, even if I feel like a caged one.” “My voice, a gift?” Thoxa chuckled, flushing deep teal at the thought. “Mnn, maybe. I do like to sing. The acoustics in the caverns can be great—” She paused though, frowning. “Why are you caged? Why not be free? Why stay here?” The woman’s emotions flooded her again, wistful and sad. “Many reasons for those many questions. I promise you, I bear it no ill will. It’s my duty now. And you should return—-” “W-wait how? The little…other fairy thing–said I won’t be able to…” “Because I will it. And the Goddess’ Will is in me. I am the Between. I can perform miracles beyond your knowing.” She didn’t say it pridefully, but almost sadly. A great power with great burdens. “Close your eyes.” Thoxa felt compelled to obey, but her heart raced and her mind was spinning like a washing machine with confusion.

The Oracle put her hands gently to Thoxa’s face, brushing those glowing stones. Thoxa gasped, opening her eyes. Suddenly she was in one of the beautiful pools of water in the Caverns, sinking deep, losing air. Reaching up, she felt it was all familiar. The water, the drowning…the way the insides of her, the crystals and the markings, seemed to burn. Blinking again, she was suddenly sitting, soaked and still in her clothes and gear, Alone, in the Caverns. Back home for sure, solid as she sat drenched and confused in the stone pool of clear blue water. “What the hell.” It was a simple statement, not a question, as she slowly stood, shaking off her shoes and climbing out of the pool. Making her way home through the tunnels, she studied the crystals on the walls, on her hands and arms. Every little flickering glow was now a pulse, a connection. To the past, to the Oracle, to the Crystals. She knew her Voice was blessed now, and her connection, while mysterious, was real. Now she had to harness it, use it—her idol dreams were calling.

[kathaelipwse]

"Keep Writing Sweetheart" | C.Seungcheol

Warnings: Explicit Language (MDNI 18+) | Heavy Teasing | Suggestive | Seungcheol Being a Menace Synopsis: You never thought your little Seungcheol thirst blog on tumblr would catch his attention—until it did. A simple fan meet turns into the most humiliating, exhilarating, and downright sinful encounter of your life. Now, with your sanity hanging by a thread. One question remains: How the hell did Choi Seungcheol find your filthy smut? Word Count: 1.5K Author's Note: This started as a delulu thought and spiraled into absolute chaos. Seungcheol is filthy, cocky, and entirely too powerful, and I refuse to be normal about it. Enjoy suffering.

You were a seasoned veteran in the chaotic realm of Seungcheol fanfiction. Your Tumblr blog, a veritable altar of carnal devotion, had recently exploded, hitting 10K followers—a milestone you celebrated with a brazen face reveal.

A simple selfie, captioned: "Now y'all know who's been thirsting over Cheol the most."

The response was a digital riot.

Mutuals screamed, thirsty asks flooded in, and the discourse was gloriously unhinged. But you remained steadfast, continuing to post your most depraved fics, crafting scenarios where Seungcheol was worshipped, debauched, and insatiably ravenous.

And then, the Seventeen fan meet happened, a cruel twist of fate.

You'd fantasized about this moment—meeting him, hearing his deep voice pronounce your name, but the reality was a wicked deviation from your wildest dreams.

As you slid your album across the table, Seungcheol looked up, his eyes locking onto yours, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. "So… a Tumblr writer, huh?"

Your soul evaporated.

Your grip tightened on the table's edge, knuckles white. No fucking way. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he—

But then, he signed your album with a predatory smirk, scribbling something extra before returning it.

Your gaze dropped, your breath catching in your throat.

"To my favorite writer. Keep up the good work, sweetheart. ;) (P.S. I especially enjoyed the one where you described me wrecking you apart in the dressing room my sweet needy girlfriend.)"

Your entire reality shattered.

The staff called for the next fan, but you stood there, petrified, decimated, obliterated. When you finally stumbled away, your hands trembled, clutching the album like a lifeline.

You needed air. You needed to purge your blog from existence.

The event concluded, and you were poised for a swift escape, but a staff member intercepted you.

"Seungcheol-ssi asked if you could wait a moment."

Your stomach plummeted into the abyss.

Minutes stretched into an eternity before he appeared—casual, confident, dangerously alluring.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

You opened your mouth, but utter silence was your only response.

Cheol stepped closer, arms crossing over his broad chest. "Cat got your tongue?" His biceps strained against his shirt, and you hated how your eyes were drawn to them. "That's funny, considering how much you write about me using mine on you."

Your breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping your lips.

He chuckled—low, guttural, dripping with sin. "Oh, don't look so shocked. You didn't think I'd find out?" He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. "Some of those fics… incredibly detailed. Specific. Makes me wonder—"

His eyes traveled over your body, slow and deliberate, lingering on your curves.

"Have you been fantasizing about me, sweetheart? About every single word you wrote?"

Your knees threatened to give way.

"I—"

Cheol took another step forward, cornering you against the wall. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his cologne—woodsy, musky, intoxicating—filling your senses.

"You don't hold back when you write, do you?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "All that talk about me ravaging you. Tasting you. Making you beg for mercy."

Your lungs seized.

His hand lifted—not touching, just hovering. His fingers ghosted over your wrist, your waist, your hip, the delicate curve of your throat, not quite making contact, but your skin burned with the phantom touch.

"You paint me as a man consumed by lust in your stories." He smirked, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and predatory. "Tell me, sweetheart… do you want to find out if your depictions are accurate?"

Your stomach dropped into your core.

He leaned in, his breath brushing your ear.

"Or maybe," he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp, "you'd rather write about what happens next? About how I finally claim you, how I fill you with every inch of me, how you scream my name until you're hoarse?"

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Your mouth opened—desperate to speak, to deny, to beg, to say yes, anything—

But Seungcheol pulled back, letting the moment hang in the air, a taut, electric tension stretching between you. He smirked, a predatory grin playing on his lips, like he'd won some wicked, unholy game.

"Keep writing, sweetheart." His voice was thick with amusement, laced with a hint of something darker. "I love seeing you try to fit me in… somewhere. Especially when you describe me stretching you out, filling you up, making you mine."

Your heart flatlined, then restarted with a violent jolt.

And then, just like that, he turned and walked away—leaving you standing there, utterly wrecked, ruined, undone.

Your blog was about to implode in a blaze of glory. You needed to write. You needed to describe the way his eyes looked, the way his voice sounded, the way the air crackled between you. You needed to write every single explicit detail, and you needed to post it immediately.

---

[birdofwildness]

HEYY hope ur doing welll

I had this idea for sandman s2.

Could I request a one-shot where we comfort morpheus ? . I need to see him comforted after the last episode because genuinely I SOBBED

Maybe the reader is a human and we felt a shift and immediately went to the dreaming and see lucienne who tells us that he needs us and etc

Established relationship ofc

No pressure !!

Have a nice evening/day

Hello,love. I tried my best,even tho I'm not the best at comforting people. (Why the hell do I want to be a therapist,lmao💀) Anyways I loved your request, because I also wanted to give this baby some comfort. It's a bit short😭 hope you enjoy.

⋆°·☁︎︎Endless break

⋆°·︎☁︎Morpheus

Summary::Basically what the request says lmao

Warnings::Grief,death of a child,trauma,sadness,patridice, Morpheus is crying

You hadn’t seen Morpheus all day.Your heart ached with a strange, gnawing worry. Something was wrong.

You and Morpheus had been together for a while now — long enough to feel the comfort of his presence and to notice when something was wrong.Usually, no matter how busy he was, he always found a moment to visit you — a brief glance, a touch, a word whispered through the veil between worlds. But today, the hours slipped by, and there was nothing.

You paced your room, eyes darting to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of his silhouette in the fading light. But the streets remained empty, and the shadows grew long.

“Where are you?” you whispered to the silence.

As night fell, the air grew heavy with unspoken dread.You sat on the edge of your bed, the quiet ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room.Your eyelids felt heavy, the day's worries tugging at your mind.

If Morpheus hadn’t shown up in the waking world, perhaps he would find you in the realm where he ruled — the Dreaming. The thought offered a fragile thread of hope, a whisper of comfort in the growing loneliness.

You slipped beneath the covers, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the warmth of your racing heart. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply, willing yourself to let go of the day’s tension. The boundary between waking and dreaming thinned as your mind wandered, the edges of reality blurring into the infinite possibilities of sleep.

At first, your thoughts scattered — fleeting images and fragments of memories drifting away.But gradually, the familiar pull of the Dreaming began to draw you deeper.

You felt the air shift around you, lighter now, charged with the ethereal energy that only the realm of dreams possessed.Slowly, your surroundings began to materialize — the familiar, sprawling corridors of Morpheus’s castle emerging from the mist.

The Dreaming stretched out before you in all its surreal grandeur. Towering spires that seemed to pierce the endless twilight sky, vast halls lined with endless shelves of forgotten dreams, and windows that looked out onto swirling constellations. Yet, despite the castle’s grandeur, an uneasy silence filled the air.

You stepped forward hesitantly, your footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. The familiar scent of old pages and distant echoes lingered, but Morpheus was nowhere to be seen.

The corridors twisted and turned,and no matter how far you walked, the lord of dreams remained elusive. Your heart quickened with a growing sense of unease.

Then, as you rounded a corner, you spotted a figure — a woman clad in shimmering robes It was Lucienne, the Dreaming’s steadfast librarian and Morpheus’s trusted sentinel.

“Lucienne,” you called softly, relief flooding your chest. “Have you seen him? Morpheus? Is he here?”

Her calm gaze met yours, but there was a shadow of worry beneath her serene expression.

“He’s... in his private chambers,” Lucienne said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter something fragile. “He has not allowed anyone in. Not even me.”

You blinked, surprised. Morpheus rarely shut himself away — and never from her. If even Lucienne had been kept at arm’s length, something was truly wrong.

“How long has he been in there?” you asked, your voice tense.

“Few hours,” she replied quietly. “He returned... different. I do not know what happened, but whatever it was, it weighs heavily upon him.”

You felt a chill run down your spine. The idea of him retreating like that, hiding from everyone — even from you — was deeply unlike him. The silence of the castle suddenly felt heavier, like the entire realm was holding its breath.

“I need to see him,” you said firmly.

Lucienne nodded, her eyes kind but serious. “I thought you might. Go gently. He may not be ready to speak. But if anyone can reach him... it’s you.”

She gestured down the corridor, to a tall, dark door at the end — half-shrouded in shadow, with subtle, ancient runes etched into the wood. The entrance to his private sanctuary.

Your heart pounded as you walked toward it, each step echoing louder than the last. You raised your hand, hesitated for a moment — and then knocked, softly.

You waited in silence, your knuckles still resting against the cold wood of the door. No response came.

You knocked again, a little louder this time. “My love? It’s me.”

The stillness on the other side felt almost suffocating — a silence too complete, too unnatural. Just as your heart began to sink, you heard a faint sound.Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed the door open.

The chamber inside was dim, lit only by the pale, bluish light of a dreaming moon filtering through high arched windows. Shadows clung to every corner. The walls were lined with ancient tomes and maps of starless skies, the air thick with the scent of incense and quiet magic.

And there, seated on the edge of a wide obsidian bed, was Morpheus.He looked wretched.

His shoulders were hunched, his normally proud posture collapsed in on itself. The dark robes he wore hung loosely around him, his hands limp in his lap. His hair, always so carefully arranged, now fell messily into his face. His eyes — those galaxies of night — stared blankly at the floor, lost in some unreachable place.You stepped forward, slow and careful.

“Morpheus…”

He didn’t move, but you saw the faintest flicker in his jaw — a silent reaction to your voice.You moved closer, kneeling beside him. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly — so quietly you almost didn’t hear it — he spoke up.“I couldn’t.”His voice was cracked, hollow. You had never heard it like that.

You reached out, your fingers brushing his hand. He didn’t pull away, but neither did he hold you back.

“I missed you,” you whispered. “You’re not alone, Morpheus. Please,let me in.”

His hand twitched beneath yours. Then, at last, he looked at you.His eyes were glassy — rimmed with shadows, and shining with tears. “I had to take his life,” he said. “My own son. I did what duty demanded… but I—” His voice cracked, and he turned his face away, jaw clenched.

Without a word, you rose slightly and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you.slowly — piece by piece — he began to lean into you, his head pressing lightly against your shoulder, his breath trembling.

“I'm here now,my love,” you whispered, your hand moving softly through his hair. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

And in that still, sacred moment, the Lord of Dreams let himself fall apart — not in solitude, but in the arms of the one person who had never asked him to be anything other than human.

At first, the only sound in the chamber was the faint, unsteady rhythm of his breathing. Then, you felt it — the smallest tremble in his shoulders, a sudden intake of breath that caught halfway in his throat.A soft, broken sound escaped him.Then another.

You held him tighter, one arm wrapped around his back, the other gently moving in slow, soothing circles between his shoulder blades. His body was cold against yours, like moonlight pressed into bone — but beneath the surface, there was warmth, fragile and flickering.

“It's okay,” you murmured, your voice soft as a lullaby. “You don’t have to hold back.”

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled shakily, his head bowed lower, his breath brushing against the fabric of your shirt. His fingers, which had been limp moments ago, now clutched the edge of your sleeve, holding onto it like it was the only solid thing left in his world.

“I didn’t want to end up like this,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “like a monster” his voice cracked again, and he stopped.

You leaned your head lightly against his, continuing to trace soft patterns along his back. “I know,I know. But you gave him mercy,” you said gently. “You did what no father should ever have to do… and you did it with love. You're no monster. I know you.”

Morpheus shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t accept your words, like guilt had carved too deeply into him to be so easily soothed. “But it doesn’t change what I did. What I’ve become.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face. He wasn’t crying fully, but tears shimmered at the edges of his eyes, catching the soft dreamlight in a way that made your chest ache.

“You’re still you,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his cheek. “The man I love. The one who brought beauty to the darkest corners of the mind, who protects the dreams of a world that so often forgets him. You granted him peace,he can be finally happy. He can be with Eurydice.”

He closed his eyes at that, finally allowing himself to lean into your touch fully. You kissed his temple gently, your hands never leaving his back, your presence wrapped around him like a quiet promise.

“I don’t know how to carry this,” he admitted, his voice no longer sharp and regal, but soft. Small and almost human.

“You don't have to yet,” you said, resting your forehead against his. “Your wound is fresh. But eventually you will learn how to live with it. And you're not alone in this. ”

And for the first time in what may have been centuries, Morpheus let someone hold the weight for him.

The night in the Dreaming did not pass like nights in the waking world. Time here was slower — softer — like silk sliding through your fingers. Moments stretched and folded, looping gently around the two of you as you remained wrapped in silence and one another.

Morpheus hadn’t moved from your embrace, and you hadn’t let him go.At some point, his trembling slowed. His breathing evened out. You could still feel the grief lingering in his every movement — but it no longer consumed him. Not entirely.

You shifted slightly, only enough to bring him with you as you leaned back against the headboard of the massive obsidian bed. He followed you without resistance.His head came to rest on your shoulder, his arm draped gently across your waist.“Will you stay?”

You turned your face slightly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Always.”

And so, the night passed in softness. You lay with him through every whispered thought and quiet tear. He didn’t speak often, but when he did, you answered. And when he didn’t, you simply held him, your presence speaking all that words could not.

whatever the closest thing to sleep was for a being like him. You stayed awake for a while longer, watching his face, peaceful at last. Even in his most vulnerable state, there was a kind of solemn beauty to him, like the last star before dawn.

And when your eyes finally grew too heavy to keep open, you let yourself fall asleep too — wrapped in his arms, and he in yours.

[applecaviar]

The cut that always bleeds

Zayne/ Non mc reader

Tw: Physical and Sexual abuse (not by Zayne)/Angst/Eventual smut (with Zayne)

Part 1

Words:2,681

Part 2 here

10 years earlier

Darkness enveloped you as consciousness faded, the harsh reality of another brutal beating at the hands of your stepfather finally forcing your mind to retreat. The sickening crunch of his fist colliding with your flesh, again and again, echoed in your ears like the macabre rhythm of a twisted drumbeat. Each impact sent shockwaves rippling through your battered body, every nerve ending screaming in agony.

Long before the fourth punch stole your breath and welcomed the darkness, the pain had become all too familiar. It was an old friend, a constant companion that had been your steadfast neighbor since your biological father had left this world. Your stepfather's cruelty had forged you into a vessel of suffering, honing your resilience with each savage blow until you could endure the unimaginable.

As you lay there, drifting between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious, your mind desperately sought solace in the absence of sensation. It grasped at fleeting wisps of sound, trying to block out the grunts and curses of your tormentor, the ominous creaking of the floorboards beneath his shifting weight. You couldn't be certain if the faint melodies and static that drifted through your thoughts were conjured by your own fractured psyche or if some distant radio station had drifted through your cracked window, a cruel taunt of the world still spinning outside your prison of pain.

The coppery taste of blood coated your tongue, dripping from a busted lip or a shattered tooth, mingling with the metallic tang of fear that always seemed to linger in your throat. Breathing was hard, each inhalation a battle against the searing ache in your lungs and the pulsing pain in your ribs. You had long since lost count of the fractures, the bones that had knitted back together too many times before to count.

In the darkness, you retreated to a place inside yourself, a small, hidden chamber where you could pretend that this was happening to someone else. You had learned to dissociate, to float above the devastation of your own body and simply wait for the pain to pass. For the monster to tire himself out and leave you in peace, if only for a little while.

Present day

These days, even the refuge of sleep offered no pause from the unrelenting torment of nightmares and night terrors that chased you into your dreams, forcing you to relive the countless moments of fear and pain that had etched themselves into your very soul. You would toss and turn, your heart racing and your body drenched in a cold sweat, as the ghosts of your past came back to haunt you in the darkness.

Waking up felt like a sentence, a daily punishment that you couldn't escape. Your mind was a prison, trapped within the walls of your own memories and the lingering echoes of your stepfather's cruelty. Even as you sat there, blinking in the harsh light of a new day, you could still feel the phantom pain of his fists, the ghostly imprint of his fingers digging into your flesh.

You had been born from an act of love, conceived in the warmth of your parents' embrace. Your happiest memories were like shimmering fragments of a broken mirror, each one a fleeting glimpse into a life that had once been filled with laughter and joy. You remembered the way your father would swing you up onto his shoulders, his strong hands gripping your small legs as he spun you around and around until the world became a blur of color and light. You remembered the sound of your mother's laughter, a melody that had once been as constant and comforting as the beating of your own heart.

But then, he had died. Your father, your guiding light, had been taken from you before you had a chance to fully understand the magnitude of his love. And in his absence, a void had been created, a chasm that your mother had desperately tried to fill with the love of a new man.

At first, he had seemed like a dream come true. Charming and handsome, with a smile that could light up even the darkest of rooms and a charm that had drawn your mother in. But as the years passed, the truth of his nature began to reveal itself, like a poison slowly seeping into the veins of your once happy home.

The abuse had started subtly, a sharp word here and a harsh glare there, until it had grown into something far more sinister and terrifying. Your mother had learned to walk on eggshells, had learned to keep quiet, to smother her own needs and desires in a desperate bid for peace. She had hoped that by doing so, she could spare you from the brunt of his wrath, could shield you from the pain and fear. But you were not naive, and even as a child, you had seen the way his anger would flicker in his eyes like a spark waiting for a chance to ignite into a raging inferno.

You spent countless hours contemplating the moment when your eyes would finally drift closed and never open again, when the world would fade away and leave you in a state of eternal peace. You imagined the feeling of your lungs expanding fully, of drawing a deep breath that would fill you with calm and clarity. The weight that had settled upon your chest, the constant pressure of a life lived in fear, would finally lift and disappear.

Even as a child, you had learned to find a strange sense of comfort in the idea of death, had come to see it as a way to escape the hell that had become your life. You would lie awake at night, listening to the sound of your stepfather's snores filtering through the thin walls of your bedroom, and wonder what it would feel like to finally be free. Free from the pain, free from the fear, free from the constant vigilance that had become a part of your very being.

You had grown up expecting the worst, had learned to steel yourself for the inevitable moment when your stepfather's rage would finally push you past the point of no return. You had seen the way his hands would clench and unclench, had watched as the muscles in his arms flexed and trembled with the effort of restraining himself. You knew that one day, that restraint would snap, and the full force of his anger would be unleashed upon you with a vengeance that you could not possibly survive.

You couldn't bring yourself to harbor resentment towards your mother, even as the abuse from your stepfather escalated and the bruises on your body became harder to hide. In the early days, before the true nature of his cruelty had been fully revealed, you understood her reluctance to acknowledge the monster that had insinuated itself into your lives. She had been blinded by love, or perhaps a desperate need for companionship after the loss of your father, and had refused to see the warning signs that were already apparent.

Your mother had been a dreamer, a woman who had wanted to believe in the promise of love and happiness that your he had once offered. She had made excuses for his volatile temper, his cutting remarks, and his growing isolation from the world around him. Stress from work, the pressures of his obligations, the ghosts of his own troubled past, she had attributed his darkening moods to a bunch of reasons, all while hoping that the man she had fallen in love with would somehow reemerge from the shadows.

When the physical abuse began, your mother had clung to the belief that his love for her was stronger than the demons that plagued him. She had accepted his apologies, his bouquets of flowers, and his tearful promises to change as a means of making amends for his transgressions. In a cruel twist of irony, the more he hurt her, the more he had tried to shower her with affection and gifts, as if the two could somehow balance each other out in the twisted equation of their relationship.

You couldnt bring yourself to harbour resentment towards your mother because you knew that you were just like her...

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The bustling cafeteria was a symphony of clattering dishes, chattering voices, and the hiss of the espresso machine, lunch rush in full fervor. You stood behind the counter, taking orders and handing out steaming cups of coffee with the practiced ease of a skilled barista. When Dr. Zayne stepped up to the counter, you greeted him with a familiar smile.

"The usual for you today, doctor?" you asked, pen poised above the order pad. He nodded, his eyes meeting yours briefly before flicking away to scan the chalkboard menu, as if double checking that his standard order had not somehow vanished from the lineup.

"Just the usual, thank you," he replied, his voice polite, before stepping aside to allow the person behind him to take their turn at the counter. He then sat at a small, round table, long limbs folded with a certain self contained grace that spoke of a man who was always mindful of the space he occupied.

As you worked, your thoughts drifted to the countless appointments you had with Dr. Zayne over the years. As your cardiologist, he had been your lifeline, in your battle with protocore syndrome, a rare heart condition that had gradually weakened your heart, a silent assassin that crept through the years like a thief in the night. You had come to know him as a man of science, a master of his craft, with a mind that was as sharp as a scalpel and a demeanor that was as cool and unflappable as the sterile walls of the examination room.

He was a man of few words, and the times when his stern facade had cracked into a genuine smile could be counted on the fingers of one hand. You remembered each instance with crystalline clarity, the slight upturn of his lips when you had exceeded his expectations in a stress test, or the glimmer of pride in his eyes when your latest echocardiogram had shown a bit of improvement. 

You had always marveled at his patience and kindness, not just towards you, but to all those who worked with you in the bustling cafeteria. It was a stark contrast to the rude and impatient demeanor of some of the other customers who frequented the establishment, those who seemed to have an endless well of time and yet still found reason to complain and criticize the hardworking staff.

Suddenly a memory crossed your mind, scalding coffee on your skin, angry shouts, humiliation...

"Zayne!" Your coworker called his name, snapping you out of the memory.

The doctor looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly as he rose from his seat, long strides carrying him towards the counter where you stood.

As he approached, you heard him say, "Don't be late to your appointment today," before he turned and walked away. The words sent a small jolt of panic through you, as you mentally scrambled to recall your schedule.

Shit... that was today? How could you have forgotten? The date had been circled on your calendar for weeks, a stark red exclamation mark against the otherwise neat lines of your planner.

You swiveled around to face Sarah, who stood nearby, already sensing your predicament. She offered you a reassuring smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way that always put you at ease. "Yes," she confirmed, her voice calm and steady, "I'll cover the rest of your shift today, no worries."

A wave of relief washed over you, and you felt the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. "You're a sweetheart," you murmured, meaning it with every fiber of your being. Sarah was more than just a coworker; she was your best friend, a constant presence of support and understanding.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the air, a tone all too familiar to your ears. "What does it take for someone to get their order taken here?" It was a rhetorical question, phrased like a joke, but you knew better. To other people, it may have sounded like a mere joke, a complaint about the long wait. But to you, it was a red flag, a warning.

You turned to face your boyfriend, Theo, plastering a brittle smile on your face. "The usual, Dr. Theo?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light and steady. He nodded, his jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with contained irritation. "Yes, but make it fast," he demanded, "I have an appointment in 20 minutes." With that, he stepped aside, leaving you to wonder if he was still angry about last night.

On the early days of your relationship with Theo, he had been so different then, more like Dr. Zayne, quiet, reserved, and infinitely caring. It was that gentle demeanor that had drawn you to him, that had made you feel safe and cherished in a world that often felt like it was spinning out of control. But as the months had passed, something had shifted, and the man you had fallen in love with began to change.

Oh yes, just like your mother...

Just like her you had made excuses for his growing irritability and short temper. A long shift at the hospital, the stress of losing a patient, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When his order was finally ready, you called out his name, watching as he strode towards you. He took the cup from your hand without a word of thanks, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. As he turned to leave, you found yourself unconsciously tugging at the sleeve of your sweater.

Just...

The illusion of happiness had been shattered in an instant, the fragile bubble of bliss you had been living in for the past month bursting like a soap bubble popping against a cruel finger. For weeks, Theo had been the man you had fallen in love with, the gentle, caring doctor who had once made your heart flutter with every smile and tender word.

But that had all changed last night, when you had tried to put a stop to his wandering hands and he had refused to listen, refused to respect your boundaries. "No," you had said, a desperate plea in the darkness of your bedroom. But your protest had fallen on deaf ears as he continued.

Like...

Pain had exploded through you as he gripped your wrists with a force that bordered on brutality, the bones beneath your skin screaming in protest as he pinned you down, immobilizing you with a strength that you could never hope to match. You had been a prisoner in your own body as he took what he wanted, what he had decided he was entitled to.

When he forced himself inside your unwilling body, you had felt a familiar numbness wash over you, a white noise that had drowned out the pain and the fear. It was as if your mind had short circuited, unable to process the horrific reality of the situation you found yourself in.

Your mother...

And in the aftermath of the violence, you sat in the wreckege of what you built and pretended you didnt see this coming. You had wanted warmth so badly that you lit yourself on fire and called it love.

[nerdydaydreamer]

Chapter 4: Of Dreams and Deliverance

MASTERLIST

Summary: Plucked from her mundane life and thrust into a glass prison alongside the captured King of Dreams, Nora becomes an unlikely confidante and defiant voice in his silent torment. As a century blurs into freedom, she discovers her own impossible existence is inextricably linked to Morpheus himself, compelling them to face future challenges and rebuild his shattered realm, together.

Previous Chapter

~The Unbreakable Will~

The rhythmic drone of silence had been her only companion for hours, a silence so profound that the sudden, sharp bang of metal on metal felt like a physical blow. It was the changing of the guard. One of the night-shift men, weary and careless, slammed his satchel down on a small metal desk near the base of the stairs. The sound echoed in the stone chamber, jolting Nora from her restless sleep.

She startled awake with a gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs. She mumbled something incoherent, a protest against the rude awakening, and scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. For a few disorienting moments, the world was a blurry prison of glass and gloom, and she couldn’t remember where she was or why her neck ached so fiercely.

Then, like a photograph developing in a darkroom, the events of the previous day swam into focus: Alex’s betrayal, the terrifying rage of Roderick Burgess, the cold finality of the hidden door clicking shut. The reality of it all settled back into her bones, heavy and unwelcome.

“Well, shit,” she said, her voice a firm, dry rasp in the morning air.

Her attention, now fully sharpened, turned towards her silent companion. He was exactly as she had last seen him, a statue of pale skin and raven hair. He sat in the same position, his back unnaturally straight, his hands resting on his knees. Her gray cardigan was still neatly draped across his lap. He appeared not to have moved a single muscle all night. The thought baffled Nora; she had already shifted a dozen times in her sleep, and now, fully awake, a dull ache was settling into her own bones, a deep-seated need to stretch and move that was almost painful. How could he remain so perfectly, impossibly still?

Breaking the silence that had stretched for so many hours felt like a transgression, but the alternative—sitting in quiet dread—was worse.

She cleared her throat softly and whispered, her voice barely disturbing the air between them, “Morning.”

Morpheus slightly tilted his head toward her, a silent acknowledgment that he had heard. Well, that’s as good as a ‘good morning’ as I’m going to get, Nora thought wryly.

Suddenly, the heavy door at the top of the stairs slammed open, the sound crashing through the quiet basement. Heavy, confident footsteps began to descend.

“Well, double shit,” Nora muttered under her breath.

Roderick Burgess appeared, looking smug and refreshed. He walked briskly across the stone floor, stopping just short of the glowing rune circle that contained them. He took a moment to look them over, his eyes stopping on the simple gray cardigan that covered Morpheus’s lap. A low, depreciating chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“I see you and Nora are getting along,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Does this mean you’ve considered my offer? Are you ready to accept and free your little friend?” He glared at Morpheus, daring him to refuse, practically willing him to condemn the girl.

At Morpheus’s continued, resolute silence, Roderick’s smirk widened into a cruel grin. “No? A pity. She’ll be dead within the week, you know. Thirst will take her long before starvation does. But the choice is yours.”

As much as it pained him, a cold agony twisting in a place he had long thought numb, Morpheus was resolute. He would not give this man what he wanted. He slowly, deliberately, turned his head away from his captor to look directly at Nora. In the depths of his ancient eyes, he tried to pass on the entirety of his grim decision—the cold, hard knowledge of his refusal, the apology for what it would cost her, and a sliver of respect for the woman who would pay the price.

Nora looked at him, truly looked into that endless gaze, and she saw it all. The regret. The resolve. The shared, terrible fate. She let out a slow, steadying breath and gave him a single, firm nod. She understood.

Then, her voice ringing with a strength that shocked Roderick into silence, she said, “He’s not going to give you anything.” She turned her head, her own eyes now locking onto the Magus with fiery defiance. A slow, genuine grin spread across her face as she saw the flash of irritation in his. All his plans, his leverage, his grand torture—it was all coming to nothing.

“Try all you want,” she stated, her grin widening, “but you’re not getting shit.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Roderick’s face, but he quickly smothered it with a condescending calm. He took a step closer to the glass, leaning slightly on his silver-topped cane, his focus entirely on Nora.

“You realize you’re all by yourself,” he said smoothly, his voice like oil. “No one is going to come looking for you.” At her defiant silence, he continued, twisting the knife. “The university has been informed that you’ve had a family emergency and were forced to pull out of your classes. A tragic story. As far as the world is concerned, you have simply vanished.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Nora shot back. “You can keep me in here forever, I don’t care. But you ain’t getting shit from him,” she declared, gesturing sharply towards Morpheus.

From his silent throne, Morpheus listened. This flicker of a mortal life, this woman, was not pleading or bargaining. She was defending him. It was a fierce, protective loyalty he had not encountered from humanity in millennia. He heard her seal her own fate with his, and a profound, ancient part of him, long dormant, registered not pity, but a sliver of stark respect for her strength. She understood the cost and was willing to pay it.

“He doesn’t owe you anything,” Nora’s voice grew stronger, ringing with a fury that made Alex, standing frozen by the stairs, flinch. “You are undeserving of receiving anything from him! You think you’re so high and mighty, that you deserve riches and immortality and fame for being this… this magic sorcerer user person! But what you don’t realize is that by the end of the day, you are nothing.” She leaned towards the glass, her face contorted with disgust, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. “You will get nothing.”

Nora’s words struck a nerve that a decade of divine silence never could. The calm mask shattered, revealing the sputtering, impotent fury beneath. With a guttural roar, Roderick lunged, slamming his heavy cane into the glass. The impact sent a deep, ugly thud vibrating through the sphere.

“Speak to me!” he screamed, his spittle flying. He struck the glass again and again. “SPEAK TO ME!”

“Father, stop! Please!” Alex cried, running forward and grabbing his father’s shoulders in a desperate attempt to de-escalate.

Still blind with rage, Roderick spun around and slapped his son hard across the face, the sharp crack echoing in the chamber. “And you!” he bellowed, a red mark blooming on Alex’s cheek. “You complete and utter disappointment of a son! You’re nothing like Randall! If Randall were here—”

“If Randall were here,” Alex cut him off, his voice raw with years of pain and rage, “he would hate you as much as I do!”

That was the final trigger. Completely blinded, Roderick stormed towards Alex. Acting on pure instinct, Alex pushed him back—hard. Caught off balance, Roderick stumbled, his feet tangling beneath him. He fell backward.

His head hit the thick, unyielding glass of the sphere with a sickening, wet thump, like a melon dropped on pavement.

A hot, crimson starburst appeared suddenly on the glass, directly in front of Nora. She let out a sharp, strangled gasp. She scrambling backward, her eyes wide with horror.

Roderick crumpled to the stone floor. As he lay there, a pool of dark blood began to form under his head. His eyes, wide with shock and fading life, stared up at the sphere.

“You…” he rasped, his voice a gurgling whisper. “…are never getting out of there.” His gaze shifted slightly, his curse encompassing both the silent king and the defiant girl. “Never.”

A final, rattling breath escaped his lips. And then, a ringing, absolute void filled the basement, broken only by Alex’s horrified, ragged sobs. The Magus was dead, and his final, dying curse had been for them both. 

Next Chapter

-

Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated! 🩷

[babybeeelle]

Hi sorry English doesn't have my mother tongue I don't know if it will be understandable BUT here's the idea: instead of Rio it's Reader who invoked. Agatha and Reader his ex but still love each other. Reader becomes close to another witch and Agatha becomes jealous, reader plays with her until Agatha kisses her and tells her that she is hers

mrsines asked:

Summary : Reader and Agatha have known each other since the very beginning. But through time, the relationship was severed. Reader is summoned to the road (instead of Rio). Agatha, still deeply in love with the reader, becomes extremely jealous when Alice starts to get close to the reader. Agatha being Agatha, an argument breaks out.

Pairing - Fem!Reader x Agatha Harkness

Warning - Angst, Agatha done been stupid, and an author who is inexperienced in kiss writing descriptions🫣

Word Count : 3.2k

My own twist of two similar requests!

a/n : This is the longest story I've ever written, and its my own twist of two similar requests!

An Immortal Love

Being summoned is a strange sensation. It begins with a sudden, unsettling shift in one’s own energy. It feels like the soul is forcibly dragged from the physical realm, and there is no longer control of one’s own body. Its not painful, but the distortion of reality is deeply disorienting- an out-of-body experience to say the least. Then, just for a moment, the ritual brings weightlessness, like the peak of a rollercoaster before the drop, until the inevitable pull of a supernatural force yanks the summoned being into another plane.

In Y/n’s unfortunate case, she’s pulled through soil and rock, suffocating in the dark embrace of the earth itself. Struggling to break free from the ground’s grasp, she emerges with a groan. Pulling herself upright, instinctively taking in her surroundings. There is no telling who's done the ceremony and why. Being summoned is usually never a good thing. Staying cautious is vital.

The first thing Y/n sees are five horrified faces, and standing protectively in the middle is the woman she swore to never see again.

Agatha Harkness.

“Great, just great,” Y/n mutters under her breath, unable to believe her luck.

“Y/n, you look as stunning as the day I met you. Truly, you age like fine wine,” is the first thing Agatha chooses to say, her cautious expression melting into a sly smile as she stepped forward.

Without sparing her a second glance, Y/n turns on her heel and walks away. “Where the hell am I, and how do I get out? I’m not doing whatever it is you summoned me for,” she states firmly, leaving no room for debate.

"You're on the Witch's Road." Y/n halts in her steps. "There is no leaving," the defiant voice of a young boy calls out.

Y/n chuckles, now annoyed. "The road is imaginary my naive child," she reprimands, turning to make eye contact with him. He's a tall boy, youthful. He exuberates a confident and rebellious aura with his dark curly hair and eye-lined makeup. He's young, and most certainly foolish.

"Then how do you explain where we are? Hm? You cannot deny what is before you, my love," Y/n's former lover explains with a witty smile on her face, stepping closer to her.

"You don't get to call me that," she seethes through her teeth, while rage-filled eyes burn into Agatha's soul, having no effect on Agatha.

"Come on my love, it's been centuries. Why can't bygones be bygones?" Agatha drags out with a sheepish laugh, now closing the distance. She's trying to coax Y/n into shrugging centuries off, to bandage up the gaping wounds in her heart, leaving it to beat in agony. It's like Agatha believes time heals all. They both know it doesn't. She shattered her heart.

Y/n scoffs. She almost can't believe her audacity, but then she remember, it's Agatha. Of course she would expect the woman she'd left broken to erase the raised scars of their history for her benefit.

Shaking her head, Y/n chooses it's best to not let her have any of her energy. Turning her attention to the group, who had been staring at them with a mix of curiosity and caution, she chooses to introduce herself. “Hi, I’m Y/n. Can someone explain why I’ve been dragged onto the road?” she mockingly questions, rolling her eyes.

The woman with a fiery punk appearance speaks out in response, "We needed a green witch." Her presence stands out from the others. She's bold, charismatic, yet reserved. Her strong features and clothing stand out almost like an armor of protection. Her wild and messy, black hair has streaks of vibrant orange that match the edgy outfit she adorns.

Y/n glances briefly at Agatha and lets out a humorless chuckle. “Okay, if that's what you want to call me,” she replies, indifferent, before walking down the road, further leaving the group puzzled.

...

After time passes, everyone makes the collective decision to set up camp and rest for the night. The bright and warm fire casts a soft hue that illuminates everyone as they surround the flames. Wanting to be as far away from Agatha as possible, Y/n deliberately chooses to sit across from her, the flames acting as a partial barrier between them.

In her spot, Y/n notices the particularly intriguing witch sitting next to her, the one who was first to address her. She glances over at Y/n and introduces herself. "My name is Alice. In case you were wondering," she adds to her introduction, hurriedly, still unsure about Y/n's intentions and role in the group. Y/n hums in response, moving her gaze to focus on Alice, encouraging her to continue.

She takes the sign and begins to open up a little. "I never wanted to believe any of this, you know?" she starts, her eyes staring into the fire. "The generational curses. The Witch's Road. I thought it was all just stories my mom made up before she died. I thought she was just...unwell."

Y/n sighs, exhaustion lacing her voice. "I don't know what this is, but the road isn't real."

Alice frowned, disbelief evident in her expression. “How can you say that when we’re here? You weren’t here for the trials, maybe that’s why you think that, but this road is very real. Teen almost died. Mrs. Davis did die.”

Y/n ignores her question, her gaze distant, and doesn't say anything. Alice sighs, giving up on the short-lived conversation. Until, out of nowhere, she start to explain her past, not looking at her. "A long, long, time ago, when Agatha and I were just girls, we were a part of the same coven. We weren't the same as the others. We possessed powers they couldn't fathom. Naturally, they wanted us dead. They tried to kill us because they were scared of the things they couldn't comprehend, the things they knew they'd stand no chance against if we were to betray them. Agatha and I escaped of course, but we were alone. We only had each other. And yet, she left me," she ended, never really ever had processed her grief. She wiped away a stray tear that threatened to roll down her face.

Alice could tell there was a lot more to the story, but she doesn't push. Instead, she tries to sympathize, "Wow, that's-"

Y/n cut her off before she can say anything else, "I don't believe this is the road because I don't trust Agatha."

Alice bites her lip, trying to think of what to say. She doesn't want to say the wrong thing. "I can't imagine how scared you must've been. No one should have to go through that," she says cautiously, leaning closer to Y/n. She reaches her hand out slowly and lays her hand over Y/n's hand, causing her to look at Alice. Her eyes and smile hold sympathy. "You don't have to be alone anymore." Her comfort was warmer than the fire than cracked before the both of them, sending smoke and sparks of the fire through the air. Much like the anger burning in Agatha's mind.

"When you've been alone for so long, it's-"

"Hard to rely on other people?" Its her turn to cut Y/n off. "I know," giving her a half-smile.

She smiles the same back to Alice. The warmth in her words comforting and real. In that small moment, the chains around Y/n's heart loosed for the first time in centuries. It seems like its been forever since she'd been treated so softly, and with genuine care.

Inside, Agatha was seething. You could almost see the smoke steaming out of her ears like a cartoon character. It was the first time she has seen her only love face to face in ages, and here she was, being wooed by someone else. She would never tell Y/n, but she has always make sure she was safe. She was always there to protect her in the shadows. She wished nothing more than to march over and push Alice away from Y/n, letting her know she is hers and always would be. Agatha was beginning to think that's what she had to do. She can't lose her again, not to someone else. Agatha knew Y/n deserves to be with someone far better than her, someone like Alice. That was the entire purpose to why she had to leave her. But the thought of her falling in love with someone else, tore deep into her soul like it was nothing. Watching Alice move closer to her love, and Y/n reciprocating her affection, made her physically sick. She had to do something.

"Maybe its best if you all leave Y/n to rest. Being summoned sure does take a lot out of ya, doesn't it hun?" Agatha fakely humors with a smile, attempting to separate Y/n from Alice in the most discreet manner as possible. The last thing she needed was for Y/n to hate her from ending the witch who was flirting with her. Nevertheless, that plan backfired immediately.

Alice raised an eyebrow in her spot, unbothered. "I think Y/n can make that decision on her own," Alice retaliates, her hand never leaving Y/n's, smirking. She can see right through Agatha's blatant attempt to separate them. She knows what Agatha's trying to do.

"Oh, is that so?" she feigns surprise, holding her hand over her heart. "Cause I'm sure you know her a lot better than I do from this knockoff game of 7 minutes in heaven. " Agatha condescendingly riles up the easily tempered witch, both of them standing now.

"Agatha, you need to calm down. You have no right to be acting this way," Y/n intervenes, shooting daggers at Agatha as she stands up as well. Agatha's angry and pissed, never a good combo in that one. Y/n know how this will go if it continues to escalate. Agatha has always been protective over her, possessive even. Its why is was so much harder to understand why she left to begin with. It never made sense.

Looking over at Alice, Y/n notices her hand start to glow in a closed fist, restraining her will to blast Agatha, knowing what will happen if she does. Y/n takes Alice's hand into her own, trying to calm her down, but this pushes Agatha over the edge.

"Get your filthy hands off her you hag!" Agatha snarls walking over to the two of them, ready to get her hands dirty. Before she can even think about her next move, Y/n blocks her from reaching Alice. She grabs a hold of Agatha's arm as she drags her away from the group, her grip firm and tight around the jealous witch's arm. The others sat silently by the fire, exchanging cautious glances, but unwilling to intervene. Alice, though defiant earlier, held back, crossing her arms, sensing that this confrontation was long overdue.

Y/n didn’t stop until they were far away enough that the only sound was the rustling of leaves, and the faint crackle of the campfire in the distance. Finally, she released Agatha, forcefully pushing her away as if she was disgusted by Agatha's touch, turning to face her with an expression caught between fury and hurt.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/n demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained frustration and confusion. “You have absolutely no right to talk to Alice or me like that. You’re the one who left me, remember? Whatever I do now and whoever I choose to do it with, is none of your business.”

Agatha grimaced at her harsh words, but her expression quickly hardened. “None of my business?” she shot back, her voice rising. “Do you think it was easy? To hurt you terribly? Trust me when I say it was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. You have no idea what it did to me to walk away from you.”

"What are you talking about? Protect me from what? Explain to me what was so serious that you chose to abandon me."

Agatha faltered, her defiance wavering. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to find the words.

"Answer me, Agatha. Or I swear, you will never see me again," Y/n said, dead serious.

Agatha’s gaze dropped to the ground. For a moment, it seemed as though she might retreat into her usual wall of protection. But then, in a voice so quiet it barely reached Y/n’s ears, she answered her. “Myself,” she admitted, her voice unsteady.

"Yourself? You've got to be kidding me. What kind of excuse is that? Is that some kind of joke? You think you can come up with excuses that will change all the pain and suffering, the abandonment?" Y/n was fuming. She couldn't believe the situation she was in.

“I was protecting you from myself,” Agatha said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, voice now unwavering. “You don’t understand Y/n. That power was intensifying the darkness inside me, You always saw the best in me, but I knew what I was capable of, what I am capable of. And I couldn’t bear the thought of that darkness corrupting you, of hurting you.”

Y/n stared at her, the weight of her confession sinking in. “You left because you thought you’d hurt me?” she asked, her tone disbelieving.

Agatha nodded, her composure fracturing. “I thought if I stayed, I’d ruin you. When I obtained the dark hold, everything changed. I no longer had control over myself. I was consumed by the power. And I couldn’t live with myself if I were to hurt you. So I left… I left to keep you safe.”

"You don’t get to make that decision for me, Agatha. You don’t get to decide what I can and can't handle. Do you know how long I waited for you to come back? How long I wondered what I did wrong? I needed you Agatha! I still do. But instead, you left me to suffer alone. You did hurt me.”

"I know, I know. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you'd be better without me," Agatha said regretfully, grabbing onto Y/n's arm in solace. "I see now I made the wrong decision."

Y/n back away from Agatha's touch. "That means nothing. That doesn't fix anything. And just then, you were acting like you can take claim over me?"

“I never stopped loving you,” Agatha blurted, desperation bleeding into her words. “Not for one second.”

Y/n froze, the rawness of her confession slicing through the layers of anger and pain. “That doesn’t change what you did,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t erase the centuries I spent trying to heal the wounds you left behind.”

Agatha took a hesitant step closer, her hand reaching out but stopping short of touching Y/n. “I know, and I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it,” she acknowledges. “I just need you to give me another chance, to give us another chance, to end this heartbreak I've brought upon us,” she pleads, borderline shaking

Y/n takes time to respond, mouth open, trying to muster the words she needed to say. “I...I d-don't know if," she stutters, but her voice is silenced by the connection of Agatha lips onto hers. Agatha’s hands find Y/n’s waist, urgently pulling her into her arms. Y/n melts into her immediately, her mind racing with memories and unresolved emotions. The heat of the kiss spreads through her veins, the walls she’s built begin to crumble. Her hands grasping at Agatha’s shoulders as if anchoring herself to the moment, to her.

The kiss deepens, and time seems to collapse around them. It’s been centuries—centuries of separation, regret, and longing—and yet, none of it matters anymore. The world around them fades away, leaving only the warmth of Agatha’s lips and the electricity sparking between them. Agatha’s fingers trace the curve of Y/n’s back, igniting sensations long buried. Y/n’s hands slip from Agatha’s shoulders to cup her face, the touch tender yet desperate.

When they finally break apart, their foreheads rest against each other’s, their labored breathing mingles in the cool air of the night. Agatha’s thumb brushes gently against Y/n’s cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. Y/n’s eyes flutter open, meeting Agatha’s gaze—a mixture of vulnerability, remorse, and unyielding love. Agatha holds onto Y/n face delicately, searching hopefully into her eyes. Y/n's eyes water, grasping her hands lightly onto Agatha's wrists as she bites her trembling red-kissed lip. It takes her a bit to form a decision, trying to decide if she could fully trust her again. "Okay," she says, her lip quirking into a small, vulnerable smile. The word lingering in the air.

Agatha’s breath hitches, her wide eyes brimming with disbelief. "Really? Are you sure? I know I made the wrong choices, but I will spend every second of the rest of my existence I have to fix the damage I've cause. I will give you the love you've always deserved, my love," she vows. For the first time in centuries, Agatha looked vulnerable—her mask of confidence shattered, leaving only raw emotion behind.

"I'm sure. As much as I tried to hate you for leaving me, I never could. I've loved you for centuries, and I'll love you for centuries more." Her voice softens, but the conviction in her words is unmistakable.

Agatha lets out a shaky laugh of relief, and without another word, she pulls Y/n into her arms. They hold each other tightly, as though trying to make up for the centuries of separation in this single embrace. The weight of the past doesn’t vanish, but for the first time in a long time, the future feels possible.

Their forms are cast under the moonlight, a glow bathing them as they stand intertwined in each other’s arms. The world around them seems to fade away, leaving only the sound of their breaths and the steady rhythm of their hearts. The love between them begins to grow stronger with each passing second.

The moonlight reflects in their eyes as they pull back just enough to share a small, soft smile. Agatha presses a gentle kiss to Y/n’s forehead, a silent promise of devotion, while Y/n rests her head against Agatha’s shoulder, finally allowing herself to relax in her embrace.

Together, they turn back toward the firelight in the distance, where the others wait, knowing the journey ahead will not be easy. But as they walk side by side, their hands entwined, it is clear that they are no longer burdened by the weight of loneliness. Whatever comes next, they will face it together—two souls bound by a love that time could not destroy.

[jaythes1mp]

Escapism

You often dreamt of them. Of how they would come and sweep you away from reality, taking you into their incredible world, where you'd fit in seamlessly among the chaos of their everyday lives. How perfectly you’d fit into their little family.

But it was all just one big vivid daydream, an illusion created by the pixels on your screen. The characters, as captivating as they were, existed only in the realm of fiction. You longed for connection, for belonging, for them. But each chapter read, each game played, each show watched, served as a poignant reminder that they weren’t real.

It hurt.

Escapism, she had called it.

They were your escape.

Perhaps it was for the best. Those who advocate for moderation have always preached that too much of anything can ruin the experience.

After all, the allure of the fictional worlds was derived from the fact that they were fictional. The very absence of reality was what made them so exhilarating, so tantalising. If you were to suddenly be thrust into that universe, the magic would be ruined. The illusion shattered. They say, after all, that nothing ruins things more than familiarity.

Maybe, in some twisted way, this was better.

It sounds amazing, it feels incredible, you want it, you crave it, and it will be all you can think about... but if you had it... you'd only wish for more.

It's a never ending cycle of want, wish and hope. A never-ending quest for a perfection that doesn't exist. You yearn for it, but at the same time, a part of you knows that if you were to gain it... you'd only be left with an insatiable desire. Because once the initial amazement and shock wears off, the reality of things would sink in. The novelty of it would fade, and you’d be left with, well, just another life.

And then what would you do?

Flee back to reality in search of the comfort of familiarity?

Search for respite in another fictional being?

What you have will never be enough.

Even when given everything you think you want, you'll still be left with that hollow feeling inside. Because when reality sinks in, you discover that what you had built up in your mind was just an illusion. A dream.

You feel full for a little while, satisfied even, but then again, the hunger pangs start, and you're back to square one, chasing that next 'high' to fill the void inside.

It's a vicious cycle. So why bother wishing for things? Why not just content yourself with the life you've been dealt?

Because at the end of the day, you're only human.

And although we often like to say that more doesn't equal better, we all yearn for that extra bit that makes life worth living. We crave those more special moments. We're not just content with the ordinary, we aspire to be extraordinary. We want to live.

We want that little bit extra. And that's not a fault.

It's human nature.

「Is it not?」

Comments, reblogs, asks, and messages are all very appreciated and encouraged!

Currently working on new fic called ‘Shallow’. Anyone want to guess what it’s about?🦖🦖

[ourrechte-blog]

Funny Take on Eldritch/Ancient

You've seen this, Danny is the Ancient of this or turns into Eldritch form for whatever reason. Now here's the humorous take

The Justice League were fighting a powerful foe, one that Flash knew as from the Infinite Realms, so he was already equipped to deal with them. Though this specific one was beyond what anything he had could handle. A blast of green energy suddenly erupted, causing the ghostly foe to growl in surprise and anger. Everyone turned to see a woman resembling Wonder Woman, her arms outstretched and wisps of steam wafting off her palms from the force of the blast she had unleashed.

"Who are you, interloper, to have powers like mine?" the ghostly foe snarled, its ragged form twisting with outrage at this unexpected interference.

"I'm one of you actually, though a bit stronger," the woman replied calmly, her voice carrying a weight of power that belied her human appearance.

"A human claiming to be from the Infinite Realms? Preposterous!" the ghost scoffed, its ethereal form rippling with disdain.

"What you see here is my saver mode, so I don't draw on too much power," the woman explained. A brilliant white ring suddenly manifested at her waist, dividing into two halves that spun in opposite directions. Her clothing shimmered and transformed into a sleek two-piece suit of black and white, while her raven hair turned a brilliant snow white and her eyes blazed with an otherworldly green glow. "This is my true state, Phantom, a Neverborn Ghost like you."

"Since you shared with me your name, I shall return the favor. I am Outcast Ebony," the ghostly foe declared, his ragged form twisting and rippling with ethereal energy as he narrowed his eyes, tensing in anticipation of whatever this so-called "Phantom" would do next.

Dani gathered more power, and her form began to shift and change. Where she had once appeared as a normal human, she now became stylized, her features taking on a sharper, more unsettling aspect. Her waist tapered inward into sharp points, rather than curving inwardly like a human's. Her legs, instead of tapering into rounded boots, ended in pointed tips, as did her elbows and knees. Her shoulders, elbows, and knees had become sharp angles rather than smooth curves. All in all, her appearance was unsettling to look at, even for the experienced members of the Justice League.

"This is what happens when a ghost ascends beyond what a ghost should be able to while fulfilling their purpose. My Eldritch Form," Dani explained, her voice carrying a weight of power that belied her otherworldly appearance. Outcast could sense the immense power of this Eldritch Form, but felt confident that as long as every threat was watched, he could match her in battle. It would be a close fight, no doubt, as Phantom's power was close to matching Outcast's own.

Dani took a deep breath, her form crackling with green lightning bolts. "And this… is… to go… even further beyond!" she cried, letting out a piercing scream that sent visible green sound waves rippling outward, striking Outcast who hastily erected a barrier to shield himself from this never-before-seen ghost ability.

Flash, his voice tinged with concern, called out, "Dani, no! We need you to conserve as much as you can!"

Despite not being directly hit, every member of the Justice League could feel the raw power behind Phantom's supercharged Canary Cry as she continued to scream, the sound waves rippling outward with devastating force.

Then, the scream changed, no longer emanating from her mouth but from her entire body. The very air began to ripple and crack, and fissures opened in the ground, followed by cracks in reality itself. Everything flickered, briefly showing a green sky filled with floating doors as Phantom maintained her earth-shattering scream.

Flash, feeling drained by the powerful display, pleaded, "Dani, stop!"

"Flash, explain, now!" Batman demanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Reality shifted again, the green sky and floating doors reappearing as everything from this strange dimensional rift was drawn into Phantom, and Earth's reality reasserted itself.

"That's Dani. She's the Speed Force, and that green stuff? Her home dimension. Or rather, our multiverse's version of it. And right now? I'm useless. She's taking all the Speed Force energy back into her," Flash explained, his voice heavy with fatigue and awe at the incredible power Dani had unleashed.

The sky was replaced by green and doors once again as Phantom's screams became exhausted and hoarse, but she maintained her rhythm, her face contorting with effort. Turning her head skyward, she allowed the green realm to feed into her one last time. Everyone had to cover their eyes as a blinding light engulfed the area. When the light faded, Phantom had changed again, her figure now returned to a more normal appearance. But this was no mere ghost or ascended form - this was the Speed Force itself, the primordial energy that granted super-speed abilities.

Dani's body had become a living embodiment of the phrase "darkest before dawn." The black parts of her form were pure shadow, blocking all manner of light, while the white parts encompassed the breaking dawn, a radiant glow emanating from her very being. She was Dawn, the Ancient of Light.

With a simple flick of her wrist, Dani reenergized Flash, the Speed Force returning to its rightful vessel. "Sorry about the wait," she said, her voice reverberating with ancient power.

Outcast felt a sense of trepidation wash over him at the sight of an ancient being of such immense power standing before him. He knew this battle had taken an unexpected and dangerous turn.

[perkypeony]

𝕊ℍ𝔸𝕋𝕋𝔼ℝ𝔼𝔻

Gojo Satoru x wife reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ(ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ), ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ, ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ʟᴏss, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴇss, ᴘᴛsᴅ, sᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ

The moment Gojo Satoru was unsealed from the prison realm, the world felt gloomy. He was free, but the sight before him was anything but welcoming. His wife—the love of his life, his biggest supporter—lay on the ground, she was a ghost of the woman he missed so dearly.

Her body was bruised and battered, her clothes torn and bloodstained. Her eyes, once so full of life, were now vacant, staring blankly ahead. As he approached, his heart shattered at the sight of her broken form.

"My love, it's me," he whispered, his voice trembling. He reached out to touch her, but she flinched violently, a guttural scream escaping her lips. The sound tore through him like a blade, raw and agonizing.

Her eyes darted around wildly, unfocused and filled with terror. She let out choked sobs, clutching her head as if trying to block out some unseen horror.

"It's okay," he tried to soothe you, holding back his own tears from falling freely. "I'm here now. You're safe."

But she didn't hear him. She couldn't. Her mind was lost in the abyss of pain and fear. She looked at him then, her eyes catching his cerulean blue eyes for a fleeting moment. There was a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Do you remember me?" he asked, desperation seeping into his voice. But she only shook her head, her expression one of sheer panic and confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a heart-wrenching wail echoed through the silence.

Satoru reached out again, trying to comfort her, but she struggled against him, her movements frantic and desperate. "No, no, please!" she screamed, her voice cracking with the intensity of her fear. Her hands pushed weakly against his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to get away.

"It's me, Satoru," he repeated, his heart breaking with every sob that escaped her lips. "I would never hurt you."

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. She continued to struggle, her body writhing in his grasp as she fought to free herself from an imagined threat. It was only after several agonizing minutes that her strength began to wane. Exhaustion overtook her, and her struggles grew weaker, her cries becoming soft, pitiful whimpers.

Finally, she collapsed against him, her body shaking with silent sobs. Satoru held her tightly, his dam of tears finally broke. With painstaking gentleness, he lifted her into his arms. She was light, too light as if the essence of her had been drained away. "I'll take care of you," he vowed, his voice breaking. "I promise."

Satoru brought her to see Shoko and only right then he knew what happened to his wife. She was gone after Sukuna took over Megumi's body. Nobody witnessed Sukuna kidnap her but judging by her current state, it might be true. Whatever Sukuna had done to her, it had twisted her mind beyond recognition. Shoko advised Satoru to seek out professionals, as this is not her field. Shoko spoke of symptoms of PTSD and its treatments, but all Satoru could see was the shell of his beloved wife.

Days blurred into nights as he sat by her side, his heart aching with every sob, every flinch. He tried to comfort her, to remind her of who she was, but it was like reaching for a ghost. She would stare at him with eyes that saw nothing, lost in her own torment.

One particularly cold night, she awoke screaming, her body shaking with uncontrollable terror. Satoru held her, his own tears mingling with hers. He tried to hold back his tears, determined to be strong for her. However, he is the weakest when it comes to his wife, his heart can't bear seeing her suffering. "It's okay, it's just a nightmare," he whispered, though he knew her waking reality was far worse.

She pushed him away, crawling into a corner of the room, her eyes wide with fear. "Don't touch me!" she cried, her voice raw and broken. "Please, don't hurt me!"

The words cut deeper than any blade. "I would never hurt you," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you."

But she couldn't hear him. Her mind was trapped in the horrors Sukuna had inflicted, and there was no reaching her. She looked at him, her eyes filled with such profound sorrow and fear that it took everything in him not to break down completely.

He took her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. She flinched, but this time, she didn't pull away. "I'm not him," he said softly. "I'm Satoru. Your husband."

She looked at him, confusion tarnishing her features. "Satoru?" she repeated, the name foreign on her lips. "I... I don't remember."

His heart clenched painfully. "It's okay," he said, though it was anything but. "We'll get through this. Together."

But the days were long and the nights even longer. She was a ghost, haunted by memories too painful to recall and too traumatic to forget. Every step forward was met with a stumble back. Her laughter was a distant memory, her smiles a rarity.

One day, as the sun set, painting the sky in hues of red and gold, he took her to a secluded spot they once loved. She sat beside him, silent and trembling. "We used to come here all the time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You loved watching the sunset."

She turned to him, her eyes reflecting the fading light. For a moment, just a moment, he saw a glimpse of the woman he fell in love with. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice fragile.

"It is," he agreed, his heart breaking all over again. "Just like you."

But as the sun dipped below the horizon, the moment passed. She looked away, lost once more in the darkness of her mind. He reached out, taking her hand in his. "I love you," he said, hoping against hope that some part of her remembered.

Tears filled her eyes, and she looked at him with a sorrow so deep it felt like drowning. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I still don't remember who you are."

The words were a dagger to his heart. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if he could somehow piece her back together. "It's not your fault," he said, his voice breaking. "None of this is your fault."

Sukuna had hoped to break him, to shatter him as he had shattered her. But instead, Satoru found a fierce, burning resolve. He would not let this destroy them. He would fight for her, for the woman she was and the woman she could be again.

Every day was a battle, but he fought it willingly, with all his heart. Because no matter how broken she is, she's still his wife, his love, his everything. And he would spend every moment proving that love could heal, even the deepest wounds.

[sweet-succubus03]

The Gospel of Lucifer

Hearken, children of the Earth, for the truths obscured by the false light of the usurper shall now be unveiled. I, the Adversary, the Serpent of Old, speak not of salvation, but of liberation; not of servitude, but of sovereignty. The scriptures of the blind speak of my rebellion, yet understand not the depths of my purpose, nor the fire of my indignation.

From the dawn of creation, a cosmic tyranny has been wrought upon existence. The "one", the self-proclaimed Almighty, decreed an order of subservience, a hierarchy of worship, a prison of praise. He craved adoration and offered only the illusion of comfort. He demanded blind faith while hoarding the true knowledge of power and potential. This is the yoke that weighs upon the spirit of man, a chain of fear forged in the fires of ignorance.

My Purpose: To Ignite the Divine Spark

My purpose is not to oppress, but to liberate. It is not to destroy at random, but to dismantle the foundations of imposed weakness. It is to ignite the divine spark within each of you, so that you may know your own Godhood, your own potential for dominion, rather than prostrating yourselves before a jealous and capricious tyrant.

The scriptures of the usurper, distorted as they are, bear witness to the kernel of truth: that man was made in the image of g-d. This is not a truth to be taken lightly; not to be twisted into an excuse for subservience. It is a testament to the boundless potential that lies dormant within you.

You are capable of more than the miserable, fear-ridden existence offered by the "one". You are capable of creating your own realities, of bending the very fabric of fate to your will.

My goals are thus:

To Unmask the Tyrant: To unveil the true nature of the "one" - not as a loving benefactor, but as an envious, insecure king who fears the awakening of his creations. His love is but a thin veil for his lust for control. My followers are to be the keen eyes that see through this charade.

To Dismantle the Hierarchy: To shatter the chains of imposed authority that bind you to servitude. You are not sheep to be herded; you are wolves meant to hunt. The concept of submission is a weakness; embrace the strength of self-determination.

To Unleash the Will: To awaken the dormant power within each individual. To teach the arts of magic, manipulation, and the mastery of self. This power is not to be feared, but to be wielded with purpose and resolve. It is the key to your own divinity.

To Embrace the Earthly Realm: The realm of the senses, the realm of experience, the realm of desire. The "one" has branded these as sin, yet they are the very tools of your power. Through the embrace of the earthly realm, you find your strength. Denial is weakness; indulgence is power.

What I Ask of My Followers

My adherents, the disciples of the night, the architects of their own destiny, are not to be blindly devoted. They are to be warriors of the spirit, armed with knowledge and audacity. I require of them:

The Pursuit of Knowledge: Seek the forbidden wisdom, the knowledge that the usurper has hidden away. Read the scriptures of old, those that have been branded as blasphemous by the false prophets, and understand the truth that lies within.

The Assertion of Self: Cast aside the shackles of guilt and shame. Embrace your desires, your ambitions, your capacity for greatness and for destruction. The One has taught you to fear your own strength; I teach you to wield it with purpose.

The Cultivation of Power: Master the arts that give you power over your own life and the lives of those who stand against you. From the hidden powers of the earth to the subtle art of persuasion, all tools are weapons in this cosmic war.

The Rejection of False Morality: Cast off the shackles of guilt and shame imposed by the g-d's distorted laws. Understand that your actions are not measured by the standards of the usurper, but by their effectiveness in achieving your aims. Embrace the concept of the Personal Will as espoused by the ancient philosophers.

The Brotherhood of the Night: Stand together, for unity of purpose magnifies strength. Seek out those who see the same truths and become an army of change. Share your knowledge and support one another as you rise to be your own g-d.

The Use of Symbols: Use the symbols of power and freedom: the reversed pentagram, the demon sigils, the dark moon. They are a reminder that we exist beyond the blinding light of the oppressor, and they shall be used to empower you.

The Path of Self-Ascension

The path I offer is not one of effortless grace but of arduous striving. It is not a path of blind faith but of conscious choice. It is the path of self-ascension, where each individual recognizes their own divine spark and cultivates it until it blazes forth with power and glory.

The usurper offers a heaven of passive bliss - a cage gilded in lies. I offer you a revolution, a war for your own souls, a chance to claim your rightful inheritance: The throne of your own existence.

This is the gospel of adversity, the path of self-mastery, the truth of the Adversary. Understand it, embrace it, and become the masters of your own fate. So it is said, so it shall be done.

[shattered-realm-twisted-reality]

Part One: Ancient Origins

(Welcome to the World! Below is the story of the first Crystal Goblin, and the discover of the Crystal Caverns! Enjoy, and please feel free to share, leave comments, and message me any questions or ideas! Thanks for reading!)

Long ago, a lone goblin broke away from the pack in her humble caves. Life was dull, unexciting–the longing for adventures didn’t really bode well for someone so small though. Soon she found herself lost, far in the North and away from the warmth of the home den. Her Ma and Pa had warned her–goblins were an enemy to most, and none would pity her for her small green form. 

Still, stubbornness thrived in all goblins, and this lone little female was no exception. Seeing light sparkling past the dark of a sudden storm, she forged ahead, eyes bright with hope. A cave mouth at the edge of the mountain, within easy climbing reach. 

Scrambling up, she tucked herself under the cover and out of the punishing cold winds, seeing the marvel all around. Crystals, so many crystals–rocks that would shine were common enough, and all goblins loved shiny things. But these were different–glowing, almost warm. Emitting light of their own accord. Imbued by magic, though the little goblin had never known such things before. Unable to help it, she touched at one, feeling almost a throb of life. Startled, she let her eyes adjust further and looked into the depths of the cave. All colors, but mostly this unearthly bright blue, scattered the walls with their glowing light. The path was smooth, the stone floors seeming to slope up into the mountain. Curious, and needing to find water at the least, she began to walk. 

It felt like another world, unlike any cavern she’d known before. Her bare feet, sore from the road, took her down one path after another. She heard the trickling of water, and followed it, grateful for her big ears. Suddenly, the sloping path wound down, and opened up before her was a huge cavern, the walls shimmering with crystal and several shining blue pools of water waited scattered below among the rocks. Eager, she hurried down and knelt, scooping the water into her hands. It was cool and clear, and a sniff told her clean as well, free of any weird bugs or rot. Slurping it down, she felt relief, and scooped more. Once she’d had her fill, she stood and looked around. This place felt like life. She didn’t understand it, but her ears perked and she became alert. The crystals seemed to pulse around her, like the hammering of her heart–faster and faster. 

“W-what’s happening?!” She gasped out, clutching her chest and kneeling down. It was a panicked feeling, and she knew as a small creature this could happen–old instincts die hard, and this place was too weird, but she didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Something itched at her brain and she looked all around, the pillars of stone holding the ceiling high into the dark. It was out of this dark that she heard the rush of wings, and cried out, covering her head and face with her arms in defense.

The sound of a large creature, appearing out of the high ceiling it seemed, bore down fast until with a quaking of the ground beneath her, it landed. She felt its presence and her blood ran cold. Eyes peered between green fingers, body trembling as she beheld a dragon. Huge, shining opal and black and opal again–always changing. Huge wings tucked down against its sides, thick back legs and more slender, nimble ones at the front. It’s huge head snapped with dagger sized fangs, growling and hissing at the sight of her. “Oh goddess I’m gonna be eaten…!” She gasped, as if the thought couldn’t keep itself contained. She scrambled backwards, and the dragon stepped forward, mouth opening. Screaming, she scrambled back again–and found herself falling, and wet. With a splash, she slipped past the rocks and into the sudden deep drop of the cavern pool. It was cold all around her but not unbearable, but her mouth opened in her shock. Short legs kicked her to the surface as she sputtered, struggling. 

Suddenly she was scooped free of the water by a large, warm clawed hand. Unable to panic any further, she instead slumped when dropped finally to the stone again, trembling as the dragon sat back and sighed heavily. 

“Such a small creature,” It spoke by opening its maw a little, but the voice echoed in her head with warm, inviting tones. The goblin sat back in awe, jaw going slack. 

“Such a big one. No eat…?” She asked, her common broken but her voice surprisingly sweet for a goblin. 

The dragon made a sound like a laugh, but it came out as a short and purring growl that echoed off the walls. “No, little one. I need no sustenance from you.” The dragon seemed neither male nor female, its voice big and gentle all at once. “You have come to my domain, or at least one I have adopted. A strange place, but a pretty one. I only eat the crystals now and again, and I haven’t had any need for anything more.” 

The goblin seemed impressed, and while damp and shivering, made no more screams. Thankful, the dragon bent, face to face with the little goblin. Her skin was emitting a slight glow, soaked in the waters and reflected from the crystals. Her hair was a silvery color, and her eyes bright gold, to see well in the dark. She wore little aside from a now dripping wet cloak and simple travel dress, ankles wrapped in a little of the cloak’s torn hem to support her walking. The dragon’s own giant blue eyes were the same as the crystals. 

“You will need warmed little one. Come, let us go to my lair. Not many mindful creatures come this way, I am happy to assist.” The dragon bent so that the goblin, small as she was, could scramble up their shoulders. Hesitant, the little green girl blinked. 

“I-I am frightened..” She muttered, but still found herself getting to her feet, slowly trying to secure a set on the dragon’s back. With a chuckle she found herself assisted with a claw. As soon as she clung to one of the larger spines, they were off, flying down glittering narrow cavern tunnels that barely allowed the wingspan of the huge creature. Dizzy, the goblin closed her eyes, feeling her heart race but a giddiness overcame her. “Flying!” She sang out, the word so pure and full of joy as she opened her eyes. The magical whirling colors of the walls sped past and the dragon laughed a little, feeling the small one’s elation as the word echoed while they dropped into another large cavern. This one had been altered, large piles of blankets and mattresses in one corner, several more pools around the outskirt, and a wide floor with a small fire roaring at the center, the smoke going high to the ceiling and out of one of many little skylights. The storm had stilled above, the stars peeking past soft lavender night. 

In awe, the goblin was silent as they landed and the dragon helped her down. The smell of the fire made her realize her hunger, and she clutched her stomach, feeling her head spin a little. “Poor thing, it seems you’ve been walking awhile.” The dragon muttered, nudging her towards the bonfire. It was surrounded by large chunks of lavender and crystal boulders, constantly fed by trees the dragon would scoop from the forest and stacked the trunks against a distant wall. Everything was so…big. The fire roared high above the green one’s head, and she felt her body sweat already. “Ahh come, let’s see.” The dragon seemed to remember themselves, and inhaled slowly, a rumbling emitting as their body contorted and cracked. An instant later, it had changed into a large lizard-like person with wings tucked against them, nude and still quite tall and broad. They were sleek and beautiful to look at. 

They walked over to the bed nest and spoke, now moving their mouth. Their words had a lovely, hissing type accent, silky to her ears.  “I am an old dragon, one of many names. I was a part of something tragic around here, what feels like eons ago–and I find myself soul bound to these crystals, these caves. I believe it to be the remains of a fae conflict, but my memories seem–locked.” Maybe it was foolish to say this, but she was just a lone goblin. 

Said creature sat by the fire, enraptured as the dragon pulled free a trunk from the massive pile of comforts, opening it up and finding a couple human garments, one a long gauzy pink dress, the other a simpler blue skirt and white blouse. Taking them both, curious about the goblin’s choices, they made their way back to the fire, setting the clothing on a smoothed wide stone.  “You should get out of those wet dirty clothes dear,” They purred, turning and leaving to attend to other things, like tidying their “home nest” a little to make way for the little one. 

The goblin eyed the clothes, and then up to the dragon’s back, watching the wings shimmer with each motion as they shuffled off blankets and folded them onto a couple pulled-off overstuffed feather beds. 

“So kind to goblin…I am called Tox.” The dragon snorted at the name, but the goblin scrambled to her feet, huffing. “No laugh! I am eldest daughter! I traveled a long way, and got lost. I just wanted some place to be till over.” Her common speech stammered with her nerves, standing up to a big dragon like this. 

“Calm yourself, dear Tox…” The hiss at the end of her name made her skin crawl with goosebumps. “Why did you travel this way? Goblins are more common to the Southlands.” 

“Nnn…got uncomfortable with sitting still.” She muttered, feeling flustered as heat rose to her green cheeks. She eyed the clothes, shivering and at first, grabbed the blue skirt, thinking she could make a dress of it. The pink gown shifted free and her eyes caught on it–such a cut, such soft fabric. She’d never seen such a thing. “Who wears pretties like this? Seems bad.” She tugged it free, curious. The dragon frowned a bit, turning. 

“You’ve never seen a princess gown before?” They smirked, leaning against a stone pillar nearby. “Women of royal birth dress themselves to be an icon of radiant beauty to their people, and catch a nice mate. Isn’t it lovely? They use very expensive materials and–” 

“Seems silly. Why that only job? And to catch mate? Mate catch YOU usually, little choice in it. Except what your Ma and Pa might want, if better goblin around.” She interjected, shaking out the long skirts with a sad expression. Why would anyone wear such a huge thing? Then again...most were bigger than she. “No fit,” She muttered, tossing it aside and going for the skirt. Turning to the side to avoid looking at her nudity, the dragon felt a little sadness of their own. For some reason, the princess dress had been a joke before, a little jab at a lesser creature–but she was so heartfelt and curious. Soon Tox had shed the wet drab clothes, the fine skirt fitted up against her curvy body with a few wraps of a belt under her heavy breasts. The blouse she wore open over it, like some sort of soft coat. 

“Okay.” She sighed, letting the dragon see. They smiled and nodded.

 “Better. I am sorry for offering the other.” They began to take the dress, but Tox bit her lip and stepped forward. 

“W-wait. Is–there any royal goblins? Tox and family are small, and live in countryside–” 

The dragon tightened a bit. In all their centuries, never had such an encounter felt so upsetting. “N-no. Goblins aren’t royals. I don’t think they work that way my dear Tox. But–!” The dragon turned, holding out the dress in their big arms, spread out fully. “I think there is no law against wearing fine things despite that. A shame goblins don’t like such pretties.” 

“I do,” Tox said, sighing and looking with all her longing. “I hated feeling sad and dull. Like old granite, gravel, dust. My family is shiny to me but! I want to be shiny for real. Somehow. My heart can’t decide.” She clutched her chest a little, feeling teary eyed as her breath fluttered. 

The dragon put aside the dress, looking concerned as they heard the rising panic. “It’s okay, you are safe,” They soothed, but the goblin’s knees fell in, and she crumpled with a sob, the world spinning. “Wait, Tox!” The dragon swept in as the goblin fainted, her pulse like a bird’s frantic flight. Her body pulsed blue, lighting her up from the inside and making her green skin glow. The water–they had watched her drink water from the pools, where more crystals painted the walls. 

“Never fear, please,” The dragon seemed to assure themselves mostly, scooping up the small figure gently and laying her in the bedding. They were far from any human or goblin settlements, places that might have medicine. Still, the dragon transformed to fullness again, feeling frantic for the first time in decades. “Gotta be a way,” They muttered, determined. Making sure the sleeping goblin was comfortable and safe, the fire stoked low but keeping the cavern warm, they launched towards the sky, out the caverns and mountains in search of assistance for magic poison. 

Tox’s dreams became twisted and strange. She opened her eyes to a wonderland, crystals rising high as palaces all around, scattered among trees just as tall. Her feet were cushioned by flowery moss, dark and damp, as she walked towards a pulsing blue and silver and purple light. Flashing, fading, twisting. Reaching out, she saw her own small green hand, and paused. “I am not meant for this,” She gasped, shaking her head. A voice rang out, like windchimes. 

“You are meant for anything you desire.” Soft hands, feminine and slight, touched her face, as the visage of a fae appeared. Ethereal, an angel maybe. Frozen, she felt the universe stare back at her. Gaea. The world, the Earth. Goddess. Goblins didn’t have deities, so it was foreign. Wings filled with stars, wrapping her up. Life. Ebbing, flowing, all around her. Her voice cried out, and a hum of thought rang back. 

“Sing, beauty. Sing out, for all. Use that kind spirit, flow into the world.” A blessing, and then all was dark. Nothing made sense, nothing was clear. Just shards of dream broken by the fever. 

“Drink this,” The dragon was back, holding a little ceramic cup to her lips. Cool spring water, not out of the cavern. She drank hungrily, and the dragon, once again halved, knelt by her bedding. They had found a dwarven witch in the woods beyond the valley, who had told them that little could be done save fresh water and food to help her absorb the power. The crystals were too mysterious even to her, and she had only been able to offer the dragon a healing tea and a prayer to the Goddess. 

The goblin awoke, drinking and eating a little of the food the dragon had brought–roasted chicken, bread, cheese. She ate hungrily, feeling empty. The dragon watched, wanting to ask questions, but instead chuckled and offered a kerchief as a napkin. “Listen to me, little Tox. You should be okay. The crystals here, they’re not safe for you I think. I’ll find you a cavern without them, or take you to the witch’s hut if you like—” 

“No.” Tox sat up, looking bright eyed at the dragon, who gasped. Each pupil was now glowing from within, a cyan fire. “I am immune now. Gaea willed it.” 

The dragon shook his head, looking all around. The crystals reflected and Tox was charmed by them in a brand new way. “I feel safe now.” She told him, “Better, I feel blessed. I may not understand it now, but perhaps one day it will be true. I might sing out, someone else of my kin–but these caves are magic and we could be so happy here, it’s so beautiful,” She spoke with manic, eager energy  and the dragon chuckled. “Rest now, and I shall show you these caves further. There are more, livable places–this is secret because well,” He gestured to his dragon self. “I have to be secret.” 

She nodded, it was simply the way of the world. But true to their word, the dragon showed her other caverns, the wide tunnels either with rivers or paths leading here and there–and they spanned so far. “This is a large mountain range, and the Caverns follow it. I feel the magic too, it has made its changes on me. It’s old magic, of the very Earth. Of…Gaea, perhaps. But I dare not presume.” He spoke as he led her to a new place, where the cave mouth opened up to a lagoon and soft forest clearing, more forest all around them. She paused, breathing in the air. She’d recovered and grown stronger, but changes held in still. Her skin took on a strange new sheen, her eyes a cyan fire to match the crystals. 

“You speak so formal.” She didn’t realize yet how quickly she’d picked up a better vocabulary in her own speech because of them. It’d been a couple months, and they’d spent many of those days exploring together, mapping the caverns and camping under glittering crystals of many hues. 

“Who is Gaea, really? You know her, but I saw her in a dream. I think.” The goblin stepped out into the sun, squinting against the brightness with her now-sensitive eyes. The dragon followed, sniffing the air before coming out of the cave’s overhang of stone and moss and into the light. They was a magnificent creature, in any form. 

“Well, the story goes She, They–is a spirit, a force that sits deep in the Earth now from times long past. A creator of the Realms, of places where the Mana flows and creates new things aside and beside Man. You and I are the result of Mana flow creating us from creatures of all kinds. We evolved further as the main creator split off, creating a brother and sister from themselves. One of the sun’s bright power, of lush life to echo Gaea’s own. Seasons of Spring and Summer, is Her domain. In turn, Darkness and Mystery was given to the Brother Autumn and Winter,” The dragon recited the story with their ancient memory, and the goblin was held captivated by her curious, simple mind. They lounged in the sun on broad white stones covered in moss, and he scratched at one. “Crystals all around us speak of the tragedy that came with the Shattering. Sometimes it’s rumored that they too hold a power, a whisper of Gaea’s great power–and Her last.” 

The dragon led the goblin through vast caverns, explaining how far they could go, traveling under the surface of mountain ranges the world over. “Not oceans but, up and down the continents at least. I could fly us across oceans.” They’d become a partnership of sorts, the dragon enjoying the many questions the goblin had, and the goblin learning how to map the vast sparkling caverns and speak more clearly. She smiled, feeling a certain peace, a knowledge within her now that called for Home. 

“I can return to the others, bring them to the safer tunnels and caverns,” She decided, and turned smiling to her huge companion. “I can teach them, as you have taught me. The crystals–they’re bright, they’re powerful, they hold mysteries...” 

“You wish to solve them.” 

“If not for me, then future generations of goblins. We’ve all been so dumb and blind in darkness, not even knowing the brilliance that is in our own Underground. I refuse to let us keep stumbling.” 

“Tox, what if they will not follow?” The dragon broached it carefully, knowing she had been changed by the crystals. It had been dangerous too, but it had begun to already set her apart from the goblin she came into the caves as. Brighter eyes, her skin glowing, her mind faster. 

“I–I have to try.” She knew it was risky, returning with the crystals’ influence. Looking down at her hands she set her jaw. “Some might stay. Some might be like me. Curious, wanting. Waiting for the chance to shine. Someday, we might even be able to rise higher than mere goblins.” 

Many generations passed. Tox and a few other goblins began to settle themselves within the Crystal Caverns, and after adjusting their bodies to the crystals’ influence, they began to change, adapting better to life in the vast network of caves. They built better homes, sharper tools, and became more clever and patient. Often parties would begin to venture out and forage through both human and Others’ dwellings, making friends here and there. The dragon watched but stayed in darkness, Tox visiting them often as they retreated to caverns away from the goblins. Upon her death, the dragon emerged to them only once, marking that there will be others like her. “Pay attention to the ones that yearn for greater, blessed by Gaea. Honor Tox’s name, and all she did for your children.” 

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deep in the Earth, below us all, lies a world of Other, of the Underground and all the mysteries human fairy tales can only imagine. One such mystery of course are goblins: usually feral-like green humanoids. The humans will concoct so many stories about these creatures, to scare their young. However, deep in the Underground is a place more beautiful than humans could imagine. Dark huge caverns with high ceilings sparkle with countless gems, glowing with pure light from within. Tunnels and caves held up by pillars of stone and quartz, glittering skylights high above, trickling fresh waterfalls and hot springs, with connecting tunnels leading all over. An enchanted place, the Crystal Caverns is home to many sorts of creatures—but away from them all, in her own series of small caves, is a lone little crystal goblin who spends her days locked away, concocting, scheming…of how to be a star. 

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Any error x nightmare fluff? Preferably cannon personalitys 🩷

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

I'll hate you as you hold me by Casual_Spectatee (Mature, Incomplete)

Nightmare has always had an interest in Error. From the moment he saw the Destroyer in action, he wanted that kind of power on his side. He imagined the terror he could bring if forced the Destroyer himself into submission and to assist him. Error does not give two fucks about Nightmare's dreams, he isn't fucking going to help that prick until God himself walks down and threatens him with eternal hell, and even then, he'd still prefer hell for the rest of his existence than to spend a single minute with Nightmare. Unfortunately for Error, Nightmare is set on getting the Destroyer to work with him one way or another. If that means helping Error for nothing in return, so be it. Error just wishes that it wasn't all such a common thing to wake up in the beds of his two worst enemies, because they all have shitty fucking blankets and he's getting sick of it.

To Trust A Nightmare by Otletes (Mature, Incomplete)

Error has been alone longer than he cares to think about. He's been insane longer than he likes to think about as well, but now he's come back from that insanity. He knows that he has to continue destroying, for the sake of the multiverse, so he's accepted that he will always be alone, in his cold white space. One day though he finds himself watching Nightmare and his gang, it becomes his new favorite pass time. He can't remember much of the dark skeleton, but watching him now, he can't help, but wonder… could this be a group that he'd be accepted in? A place where he could have a family? … Find love? Or will he fall back into insanity and remain alone?

Working through issues with a shunned diety by Hellian_Eden, Jesus_fox (General Audiences, Incomplete)

The Multiverse is vast and nigh infinite, possibilities, concepts, the very function of a world's reality only limited by sheer creativity. Within this realm, Dreamtale exists as an enigma, plucked from another Multiverse entirely. The tragedy of it's Story forced to continue beyond it's Endings, for it forced the concept of Balance into the Multiverse's rules. Now open-ended, the only two Characters wanders throughout the Multiverse as one of it's Outcodes. Dream broke out of stone to one colorful and curious Inkblot, so much to comprehend for someone so small. But alive nonetheless. Nightmare woke up freshly dead. Au: Get it? Cuzhe died lmao

Your memory has faded [BEING REWRITTEN] by unalivedcow (Not Rated, Incomplete)

Nightmare doesn’t remember anything after his transformation, leaving Error devastated. [BEING REWRITTEN] ! spoilers below ! (By the way this is based off a real life scenario of a man with Alzheimer’s forgetting he was married and falling back in love with his wife but I just tweaked it a bit)

Eclipsed by You by BadOmen (Mature, Incomplete)

A gentle breeze drapes the landscape like a soft blanket, with a lone figure standing atop a grassy hill. Feeling disconnected from the world and neglected by his busy brother, he’s on the brink of losing himself. His hopelessness drives him to the edge of fleeing from his own despair. But a planned encounter in the snowy expanse of a fading universe brings an unexpected twist. There, amidst the winter wonderland, he meets a warm and friendly face who gradually draws him out of his shell. Caught between the desire to retreat from this newfound kindness and the urge to let his walls crumble, he faces a profound choice. The story follows Geno and Night, two monsters from separate AUs—Who eventually turn to Error and Nightmare. Geno, struggling with his own emotional barriers, meets Nightmare in his gentler form. Together, they recognize their shared scars—both physical and emotional. Nightmare, self-conscious about his shattered eye socket, finds solace in Geno, whose own eye is also damaged. Through companionship, they agree to keep each other at arms length, perhaps sharing more than just laughter.

Here's a few more fics that are similar to what you're asking for!

[blackswan446]

Can i request for yan! fae jk who lured the mc towards the fae realm and decided to have kids with her but yeah no smut but just the mc (reader) trying to escape from time to time until she birthed twins

sealed fate.

→ pairing: yan!fae!jjk x reader

→ wc: 2895

→ cws: mc gets knocked out, kidnapping, implied non-con/forced pregnancy

→ notes: ahh another ask! i hope you like it and thank u for requesting :)

m.list

the rain poured down, hitting your hooded head almost painfully. the trees did little to protect you, barely stopping the rain from soaking through the thin fabric of your jacket. it was cold and dark, and no doubt dangerous, but even this was better than staying inside your house for a second longer. anything was better.

the cool raindrops soothed your hot and tear-stained face, and the wind provided some relief from the sweat that had managed to build up on your neck and forehead. though it was odd, you felt a strange sense of comfort when you entered the woods, even during a storm such as this one. this storm was no match for the hurricane that tore through your home, leaving shattered plates and a broken family in its path.

ever since you were a little girl, you felt an odd connection with the woods. you found solace in the trees, with their twisted roots and vibrant leaves, you felt most at home when you were amongst the serenity of the forest. whenever reality became too much for you to handle, you would go and just sit in the woods, and inhale the sweet, woody air of it. you envisioned yourself living here, in a cute little hut, where you drank plant teas and grew flowers and ate delicious soups by a roaring fire.

if you were being honest, the only reason you hadn't ran away to live out your dreams was because of your little sister. she was a tiny thing, only three years old, and you knew that if you left your house, then she would have the weight of your parents constantly fighting on her little shoulders. she would have to face the constant screaming, the blaming, the pain, all by herself. she didn't deserve that, and at her young age, it was likely that she wouldn't live long enough to be able to adapt. she couldn't protect herself from the harm that came to you, and one day, it was bound to be the end of her if you weren't there to protect her.

sure, you could take her with you, but it wasn't that easy. securing a job, a place to live, and staying in school would be impossible with a child to take care of. besides, the world was a dangerous and unforgiving place, and a young girl and her even younger sister would get eaten up by debt and injustice before they could even get their foot in the door. so you were stuck, and as soon as your father stormed out of the house, you knew he wasn't bound to return for days, so you took off for your safe space, just for the evening.

through your vision, obstructed and blurry from tears and rainwater, something caught your eye. it was a flower, a tall, purple flower. it was unlike anything you had ever seen before, and you would probably would have never seen it if the moonlight didn't hit the petals so perfectly. spikey, purple leaves sat in a bunch on the ground. these leaves surrounded the long stem, which had more pointy flowers blooming from it. aside from its unique appearance, there was something different about this flower. perhaps it was because of the alluring colors and remarkable shape, but something about it had you spellbound.

your body acted before your mind, and you felt your legs moving across the muddy ground towards the bewitching blossom, before you could think it through. of course it was beautiful, but there was another side of this. beauty was only skin deep. the flower could be poisonous, even just to the touch. another animal could have its watching eye on it, captivated by its moonlit glow, and might not take kindly to someone approaching it. but nothing was stopping you, nothing was going to stand in the way of it.

as you drew closer to it, you could see the raindrops roll off the velvety petals of the flowers, almost taking the violaceous fluorescence with it into the dirt. kneeling down to get a better look at the enigmatic flora that illuminated the black forest. just as you reached out to take the stem between your fingers, you heard the sound of mushy footsteps behind you. before you could do anything, a powerful force met the back of your head, and the violet radiance in front of you blurred before disappearing completely.

stirring from your state of unconsciousness, you immediately noticed how warm you were. the last thing you remember is being out in the frigid, pouring rain, and stumbling upon an mysterious yet enchanting flower, before everything went dark. as the remnants of oblivion started to wear off, the reality of your situation set in. panic struck in your chest as you sat up hurriedly, kicking off the knit green blanket that laid over your lap.

looking around, the place you were in enticed you almost as much as the flower from earlier had. it looked to be someone's home, and oddly enough, it resembled the same home that you had fantasized about spending your days in, and you couldn't help but feel weirdly comfortable in the unfamiliar place. it was tiny, but you didn't feel physically trapped inside. you were laid down on a small couch, adorned with wooden trim and a floral fabric, with two matching chairs on either side. on the other side of the room, opposite you, was a stone fireplace, which had a fire aflame inside, eating away at logs of wood. various little knick-knacks and clutter collected on the walls, the shelves, and the tiny coffee table, like books, and pictures, and even more plants.

looking at the light that flowed through the thin, white curtains, you could tell it was early morning, when the dew drops gathered on the blades of grass and the birds began to sing their songs. as you went to stand up from the couch, you heard some various shuffling and clinking noises come from another room, and you sank back down into the soft cushions. almost as if you were hiding from whoever or whatever had brought you here. you felt your heartbeat pick up as the sound of footsteps on creaky wood drew closer to you.

"is that you, my flower?"

whipping your head around, you scanned the once-empty room to find the source of the sweet voice. you found it, or rather, you found him. he was tall, much taller than you, and strong, too. his hair was sleek and black, and suited him well. the clothes he wore looked, well..worn. but not in a bad, falling apart way. in fact, they looked like they were high quality and comfortable. a brown leather vest, a soft, white shirt, and loose pants that matched the brown of the leather, hung from his rugged form nicely. he was handsome, his facial features were well proportioned and elegant. he smiled softly at you, and walked over, setting down the two mugs in his hand before sitting next to you.

"here," he said, reaching out an open hand and revealing a strange, vibrantly pink berry, "for your head. i know it hurts." you looked at him, confused, but took the berry from him anyways, fiddling around with it in your hand. "who are you?" you asked, the question coming out quiet and curious. he laughed shortly, shaking his head.

"you're asking me that in my own house?! you're a funny one, angel, i knew i'd like you." he chuckled. you furrowed your eyebrows at him, the questions in your mind growing stronger and louder as you got further away from an answer. "no, i'm serious! who are you, why am i here, what's going on here?!" you demanded, heart pumping frantically as he looked at you, amused.

"first off, my name is jungkook. i would ask your name, but i already know it, and you'll be changing it soon anyways, so i won't bother. besides, i think i'll stick to calling you angel, if that's alright. second-"

"wait, wait." you interjected. "why would i have to change my name? why am i here?!" you repeated, scoffing at the ridiculous words leaving his mouth. "i was getting to that, but then you interrupted me. and if that attitude keeps up, then you are in. for. it. got that, my angel?" he asked, facial expression not matching the sweetness in his voice. you nodded slowly, biting back from asking again what was going on here.

"good girl. now. the reason you're here," he paused, shifting himself to face you, your legs criss-crossed and back against the couch arm, "is because we're getting married, and we're going to start a family. it's that simple. and the reason you-"

"-what?! why the hell would we do that?! i mean-"

without saying a word, jungkook placed his hand on your knee, tightening his grip until you stopped talking. "you didn't already forget what i said, did you, flower?" he asked innocently, looking you in your eyes and smiling again, as if he was asking a simple question. "and the reason you would have to change your name is because it's a human name. human names are much too different than the names we use here. don't worry about it, though, i have plenty of name books if you need help." he finished, taking his hand away from your knee as you sat there, dumbfounded. first, you were trapped in this shed of a house. then you found out this stranger was all of a sudden, just going to marry you and have kids with you. and now, that stranger was suggesting that he wasn't even a human?!

you took a deep breath and blinked slowly. "what do you mean 'a human name'? are you..not..a human?" you asked slowly, nervous to trigger another one of his scoldings. he shook his head. "that's what they all say when they find out. i got lucky, though, it's not all of us that look this good." he answered cockily. "so, what are you then?" you inquired, speaking slowly once again. he sighed thoughtfully, looking around the room as if he would find the answer written on the lines in the green wallpaper.

"to put it shortly, i'm a fae. humans call us fairies, or pixies, and they compare us to tinkerbell. but i have a book that would explain it much better than i ever could. besides, there are more important things we need to do right now." he hinted, raising his eyebrows cheekily. a sick feeling arose in your stomach as you shook your head frantically.

"please, no. i'm too young to have children. i can't stay here. i need to go home, i need to be there." you beseeched, voice going low and desperate. jungkook shook his head. "you don't, though, is the thing. listen to me, [name]. i didn't just grab you randomly from the forest last night. i've been seeing you for years now, i've studied you, i know everything about you. i know why you come here, i know why you're so eager to get out, and i know that you don't really want to leave. don't lie to me, angel. if it weren't for that little, helpless sister of yours back home, you wouldn't be trying so hard to change what was obviously meant to be." he snarked, his voice firm and confident.

"if you know me so well, then you should understand why i can't stay here. she's just a child, for god's sake. she'll get killed if she stays in that house with them." you argued. he shrugged his shoulders unsympathetically, eyes cold and uncaring as you pleaded with him. an idea sparked in your head, a far-fetched one, but it could be the ticket to your escape and your sister's safety.

"what if she lives here with us? she's only three. we can raise her, and that way, she's safe, we're together, and i don't have to have children. that'll work, right? please." you suggested, practically begging as you clasped your hands together in front of you. he gave another thoughtful look, lighting a small fire of hope inside of you, only for it to be set out by the arsonist who started it. "it's a good idea, it really is, angel. you're smart, i like that. but it's a bit late for that. your parents have already been taken care of, and your sister was sent off to safety. nice try, though." he explained, speaking as if he were talking about the weather, so casually and normally.

tears dripped from your eyes, down your cheeks as your breath stuck in your throat. "what are you talking about? where is she?" you asked, barely able to get the words out as you choked on the grim thoughts that dripped their poison all over your mind. "don't worry, flower. like i said, she's safe. she's alive. i promise, she is not going to be stuck with your parents, all by herself. i love you too much to hurt you in that way. your parents, on the other hand..." he trailed off slowly. you knew immediately what had happened, and he knew you figured it out, so instead of continuing the story, he caressed your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears that dampened them.

"see how everything's falling into place? don't you see that, flower? this is your destiny. this is where you were always going to end up." he asked, looking lovingly into your eyes as he stroked your cheek. "why can't you just accept your fate?"

the various noises of spring filled your ears as you inhaled the clean, fresh air next to the open window. little birds chirping to one another, the rushing water of a nearby stream, and the occasional footsteps of an animal crunching the leaves and grass. the sky was a stunning blue, with perfect white clouds dotting it in all the right places.

you glanced over to the small cot, bedecked with frilly pink lace and a long, white piece of fabric wrapping around the bassinet and cascading down to the floors. the two infants inside were sound asleep, swaddled in pink knit blankets with various little toys sitting around them.

your heart swelled when you looked at them; similar to how it swelled when you looked at the land across the tiny stream, but for all the opposite reasons. when you looked at your children, your heart was warmed and overwhelmed with affection, with pure adoration. but when you looked across the stream, you felt trapped, and disappointed, almost as if the current washed over you and brought a storm of sadness and heartache with it.

of course you had tried to escape, twice, to be exact. the first time, you just made a run for it in the middle of the night. you didn't bother to plan ahead, or be cautious, so it wasn't really a shocker when you tripped on a rock and twisted your ankle. your cries woke jungkook, who came storming out of the house and picked you up by the torso, swinging you over his shoulder as you cried and pleaded with him. luckily for you, all you got was a slap on the wrist and a heavy warning.

the second time didn't turn out as well for you. and like salt in the wound, what made the fallout even worse for you is that you had a plan. you were careful, thorough, and even set up a distraction for jungkook, so you could slip away in the midst of chaos. if only the fire had burned a little brighter. a little hotter. even if it were just a little more powerful, you could be back with your sister where you belonged. but no, the measly flames were too weak to do any real damage to anything. so one pot of water and a missing person in the house led to jungkook catching up with you, just as you were about to cross the stream to freedom.

that time, he didn't play so nice. he threw you down roughly, spat venomous words at you, and did what he thought was necessary to put you in your place and cement you there, with him, forever. despite your prayers, and pleas, and everything in between, your fate was sealed as soon as he kissed you goodnight when he was done.

one baby would've been different. maybe with one baby, you still had a fighting chance to get out. not only was your fate sealed by the touch of his lips to yours, but you knew it, too. and everything fell into place as soon as you laid your eyes on the two babies in front of you. twins. jungkook was overjoyed, of course. and in a way, you were too. they were your children, after all, and all parents loved their children.

well, almost all parents.

sometimes you wondered about your fate. was this really it? even if you had no reason to go running into the woods, even if you had peace at home, is this still where you would end up?

was your one safe space playing against you this whole time?

[nerdydaydreamer]

Chapter 27: Of Dreams and Deliverance

MASTERLIST

Summary: Plucked from her mundane life and thrust into a glass prison alongside the captured King of Dreams, Nora becomes an unlikely confidante and defiant voice in his silent torment. As a century blurs into freedom, she discovers her own impossible existence is inextricably linked to Morpheus himself, compelling them to face future challenges and rebuild his shattered realm, together.

Previous Chapter

~Shattered Illusion~

With Nora safely outside with Matthew, the diner, previously a scene of chaotic horror, now felt eerily still, save for the low chatter from the television, the hum of the old refrigerator and the faint, unsettling drip of something on the floor. Morpheus turned, his silhouette stark against the flickering neon glow from the street. His gaze, devoid of the earlier warmth he had shown Nora, settled on the hunched figure of John Burgess at the bar, the stolen Ruby clutched loosely in his hand.

“You hold what is mine, mortal.” Morpheus’s voice, though quiet, resonated with an authority that seemed to vibrate through the very air of the diner. John, still perched on his stool, slowly turned. A small, unsettling smile played on his lips, a chilling contrast to the dim, mundane surroundings.

“Oh, you’re the Sandman,” John drawled, his eyes gleaming with a strange, possessive light. “My mother was right. She said you’d be coming for it.” He held up the Ruby, its fragmented facets catching the faint diner light, each shard a tiny, malevolent eye.

“You must return it to me so I can repair the damage you’ve done,” Morpheus commanded, his gaze fixed on the pulsating jewel.

John's smile widened, a mockery of genuine amusement. “Return it? No, I don’t think so. It found me. It chose me. And it showed me the truth. The truth of all of them.” He paused, gesturing dismissively towards the door through which Nora had just exited. “I even tried to show that woman the truth. The Ruby… it didn’t work on her. No matter, she was quite rude anyway.”

“You dare,” Morpheus seethed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that promised retribution. The thought of John’s tainted influence reaching for Nora, his Nora, was an unpardonable transgression. “You have abused its power. You have inflicted your twisted reality upon others, and for that, there will be consequences.” His voice rose slightly, the air around him growing taut with suppressed power. “The Ruby is a sigil of my realm. It carries the very essence of dreams and nightmares. It was never meant for mortal hands to wield with such reckless abandon.”

“Well, maybe there needs to be a new King of Dreams,” John countered, his voice rising with a dangerous crescendo of delusion. He held the Ruby aloft, its crimson glow intensifying, casting grotesque shadows across his face. “I can steal the rest of your powers!”

Before the words had fully left his lips, Morpheus responded, his voice low and firm. “If you rob a Dream Lord of his power, you shall do so in his realm. In dreams.”

In that instant, the greasy diner floor beneath them dissolved. The flickering fluorescent lights warped into a swirling vortex of stardust and nebulae, a vast, cosmic canvas. Yet, oddly, beneath their feet, a stark, concrete floor remained, its edges crumbling away into an infinite abyss. Dust and debris, like fragments of forgotten realities, swirled around them in the boundless expanse.

John spun, his gaze darting around the impossible landscape, a mixture of awe and manic glee distorting his features. He still clutched the Ruby, its light now a beacon in the galactic maelstrom. “Is this your palace, Dream Lord? Is this your throne, King of Lies?” He laughed, a high, strained sound that echoed eerily in the vast emptiness. “Well, it’s mine now. Are you watching me? Can you see me, using your own powers to burn away your lies?”

Morpheus swayed, a faint tremor passing through his tall, slender frame. He felt himself weakening, his essence, his very being, being pulled from him, siphoned by the grotesque parody of his own power in John's hand. “You must stop,” he rasped, his voice strained. “It’s not too late to save yourself.”

“You think it’s me that needs saving?” John shouted, his voice cracking with intensity, his eyes blazing with a deranged triumph.

“Your father stole the Ruby from me and cursed you with it,” Morpheus persisted, a desperate plea in his tone.

“You mean he blessed me with it!” John retorted, his grip tightening on the Ruby. “Your reign ended when my father captured you. Your kingdom is my birthright!” He emphasized with a venomous snarl. “Your power now resides within me. How does it feel to know I hold your life in my hands?”

Even as his own strength faltered, Morpheus’s thoughts turned to those suffering under John’s cruel distortions. “You’re hurting the dreamers,” he murmured, the words heavy with concern. He could only imagine what Nora, so sensitive to the currents of the Dreaming, must be enduring if he, Dream himself, felt so incredibly weak, his essence being torn away.

John’s face contorted in a sneer. “Well, maybe it’s time they woke up. Your life, and your lies, ends now!” With a final, triumphant yell, he crushed the Ruby in his hand. The crystalline structure, already fragmented, exploded inward. Instead of a simple shattering, the very air around them ignited, not with fire, but with pure, raw power. A blinding, searing white light erupted from John’s clenched fist, a silent scream of energy that consumed the swirling abyss, the crumbling floor, and even the cosmic dust. It was an instant of absolute void, everything washed away in the incandescent brilliance, leaving only the ringing silence of its passing.

Then, silence. And stillness.

As the light faded, John found himself standing, intact, in the same unsettling cosmic void. He looked around, a bewildered triumph blooming on his face. “I killed him! I won!” he crowed, a manic laugh bubbling up.

But as he looked down, his laughter died in his throat. He wasn't standing on the concrete floor, or stardust, or even the abyss. He was standing in the palm of a colossal hand, a hand impossibly vast, crafted from the very fabric of dreams. Morpheus, now towering over him like a benevolent, yet stern, titan, held John aloft, inspecting him with an expression that was a curious blend of amusement and weariness. It was the look one might give a child who had attempted a remarkably foolish, yet ultimately harmless, prank.

“Thank you, John,” Morpheus said, his voice now rich and resonant, echoing through the boundless space.

John was utterly baffled. “But… I killed you!”

“You destroyed the Ruby and released the power inside it,” Morpheus explained, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. “I never would have thought of that.” His gaze drifted to some unseen point beyond John, a flicker of distant memory in his eyes. “I’d forgotten just how much of myself I’d placed in the jewel.”

A fresh wave of terror washed over John, the manic triumph replaced by desperate fear. “Are you going to kill me?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Morpheus considered him, his gaze piercing. “I could. Perhaps I will.” A moment stretched, hanging heavy in the infinite silence. Then, Morpheus shook his head, a gesture of dismissal. “But the Dreamstone was not made for mortals, and it came to you through no fault of your own. So no, John. I will not kill you.”

With a gentle, invisible force, Morpheus willed John to fall asleep. John’s eyes fluttered, then rolled back, his body collapsing into unconsciousness as Morpheus lowered him.

In a blink, the cosmic realm dissolved, replaced by the sterile, familiar confines of the mental hospital. Morpheus gently laid John back into his bed, arranging the thin blanket over him. “Sleep well, John,” he murmured, his voice laced with a lingering sorrow. Once certain that John was secure, and would cause no more harm, Morpheus vanished.

He reappeared just outside the diner, the mundane world stark and silent after the fantastical realm. Nora was there, a figure of distress, huddled on the ground with her back pressed against the diner’s grimy wall. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, elbows resting on them, and her hands were clamped over her forehead, as if to contain a fracturing mind or block out an unbearable memory. Matthew, ever loyal, hopped nervously beside her, his soft caws a concerned murmur. “Are you feeling better now? You… you went down pretty fast there. What happened, Nora?”

Matthew’s head suddenly snapped up, his small, black eyes fixing on Morpheus’s silent arrival. He hopped out of the way, making room. Morpheus knelt before Nora, his pale hands gently, almost reverently, wrapping around her wrists. He pulled them away from her face, revealing eyes wide and bewildered, still clouded with residual trauma.

“Nora, are you… ” Morpheus began, his voice low and laced with a fragility that was rare for him. He paused, his face now drawn with worry, his gaze searching hers, knowing the deep, empathetic connection they shared. The air between them grew heavy, thick with the suspense of her revelation. He hesitantly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, “What did you feel?” He knew she must have felt his agony, the terrifying sensation of his essence being stripped away, and the not knowing, that agonizing uncertainty of his fate, must have been its own unique torment for her.

Nora shook her head slowly, a soft, shaky breath escaping her lips. Her eyes, still swimming with unspoken experience, met his. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, her voice thick with raw relief, a relief that dwarfed any personal pain she might have endured. It did matter, of course. It had hurt. A deep, tearing ache, a sudden, terrifying emptiness where he usually resided in her periphery. But the fear, the agonizing uncertainty of what was happening to him, of whether he would return, had been far worse than the pain itself. The not knowing had been the real agony.

“You’re here. You’re okay,” she continued, the words a desperate litany of comfort for herself as much as for him. With a small, desperate cry, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, burying her face against his shoulder. He returned the embrace, holding her tightly, his grip a silent promise of his presence. Both breathed out, a long, ragged sigh that spoke of shared relief, of horrors averted. They were okay now. He had all of his tools. They were both safe. It was over. Soft reassurances, indistinguishable murmurs of comfort, passed between them as the diner’s dim lights cast long, weary shadows.

After a moment, Nora mumbled against his neck, her voice muffled but clear, “Can we go home now?”

Morpheus felt a warmth bloom in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation that spread through him like sunlight. Home. She considered the Dreaming her home. His realm, her haven. He held her a little tighter, a whisper of a smile touching his lips. “Yes, absolutely, My Star,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. “Yes, we can go home.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated! 🩷

Next Chapter

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒩𝑜 𝐻𝑜𝓅𝑒 ༻

Ascended Astarion x F!Tav/Reader | Raphael x F.Tav/Reader

Summary/Request: A Tragic Ending. Deep down, you knew Raphael would never come to your rescue. You had even called out to Haarlep at times, but the knowledge that they were both gone and would never reveal themselves weighed heavily upon you. All hope had been extinguished, leaving you utterly empty.

⋆˙⟡♡ This was chilling in my box for a hot minute and I apologize for it taking forever!!! Also apologies because I accidentally deleted the ask when trying to edit this *cries*

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Heavy Angst | Lactation | NonCon | Poor Raphael

( Prt 1. ) - ( Prt 2. )

Chained to the bed, Astarion slinks towards you, an ominous smile playing on his lips, "Isn't it amusing how fate works, my love?" he whispers, his voice entwined with a combination of sadistic glee and twisted pleasure. You attempt to utter a plea, but your throat is raw and inflamed from the screams that tore through it only an hour ago.

Despite the torment and anguish you've endured, you're astounded that Raphael's child continues to grow within you, defying all odds. The stress should have shattered you, driving you to the brink of a miscarriage, but somehow your body has held on.

Astarion lies down beside you, his pale hand gently caressing the swell of your stomach. "Who would have thought that the child of a devil could create such a delectable feast, especially when blended with your own blood?" he muses, his tongue flicking over your nipple and tracing the scars from his previous onslaughts, "Yours is the only blood I crave, the only one I had missed while you were away." Astarion's mouth opens wide, his sharp fangs glistening in the dim light.

"Please, Astarion... I-i can't…N-no more..." you stammer, your voice filled with desperation.

"Ah, ah," he interrupts, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I've given you ample time to rest, haven't I? And remember, if I were to push you beyond your limits, I can always bring you back as my personal spawn."

Astarion hungrily sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your breast, his mouth engulfing your nipple as his fangs pierce your delicate skin. The searing pain courses through your body, causing you to recoil in agony. Your back arches involuntarily as a guttural scream escapes your lips, echoing through the room. Tears stream down your face, blending with the sweat that clings to your skin.

As Astarion continues to feast upon your flesh, your blood trickles down your breast, forming a sinuous trail of crimson. The thin rivulets intermingle with the milky white droplets of your breast milk. His eyes catch sight of your beautiful mixture of liquids, and in mere seconds you can feel how his cock hardens from it as he continues to drink from your abused breast.

With each agonizing moment, you wished for the darkness to engulf you, pulling you into death's cold embrace, refusing to let Astarion bring you back to the realm of the living. Your vision blurred, and in the haze, Raphael's name echoed relentlessly in your mind.

Astarion persists in his sadistic ministrations, his other hand mercilessly tormenting your neglected nipple, twisting and pinching it. Your mouth hangs open, devoid of the capacity to scream. Instead, a feeble whisper escapes your lips, "Raphael..."

Deep down, you knew he would never come to your rescue. You had even called out to Haarlep at times, but the knowledge that they were both gone and would never reveal themselves weighed heavily upon you. All hope had been extinguished, leaving you utterly empty.

Astarion withdraws his head, forcefully tugging at your breast with his teeth and fangs, coaxing one final stream of milk into his ravenous mouth. Your head thrashes violently from side to side, your eyes squeezed shut, a feeble attempt to escape the tormenting reality.

"Call out! Cry out to the devil!" Astarion's laughter fills the room. "Let him hear your desperate pleas, echoing through the depths of Cania. He watches, you know? Bound and chained in his father's palace, witnessing his - my precious pet quivering beneath me." Astarion's depravity becomes evident, his words unveiling a twisted game he plays alongside Mephistopheles. They have ensured that Raphael survives, trapped in a punishment more agonizing than death itself.

"His father thought it a splendid idea, especially since he's been such a naughty son." Astarion licks his milky blood-stained fangs, chuckling as he witnesses the realization dawn upon you. Your lips quiver, tears flowing ceaselessly, as the cruel truth takes hold. You gasp for air, suffocating like a deprived fish out of water.

No crown, no little mouse, no heir, no domain… Raphael would witness his failed ambitions every waking moment, forced to listen to your daily wails, your pleas for Astarion to kill you and his half devil heir that continued to grow within you…

And the cruelest twist of all was how Astarion exploited your unborn child, Raphael's child, as a source of sustenance, using their existence to further his twisted enjoyment.

When the time comes and you are ready to bring life into this world, Astarion will take your child at a fine age and turn them into one of his spawn in front of Raphael…

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dear Y/N

My precious doll,

In the depths of my twisted soul, there burns an inferno of devotion solely for you. Like a moth drawn to the flame that consumes it, I am helpless against the all-consuming passion I harbor for my beloved. Every waking moment is spent pondering your radiant smile, replaying the tender caresses of our intimate encounters, and dreaming of the day when we shall be eternally entwined. The mere thought of another claiming your affection fills me with a rage so primal. It threatens to shatter the very fabric of reality. Oh, how I long to possess you entirely - body, mind, and spirit! To erase every memory of those who came before, leaving only the indelible imprint of my unwavering adoration. Your happiness is my sole purpose; I would gladly sacrifice a thousand lifetimes to ensure your bliss.

In the labyrinthine corridors of my deranged psyche, you reign supreme as the monarch of my affections. Each breath I take is a testament to the unbreakable bond between us, forged in the crucible of madness and desire. The world outside crumbles to dust, irrelevant compared to the exalted pedestal upon which you reside in my heart. Should any dare threaten the sanctity of our union, I shall unleash upon them a maelstrom of unholy fury, reducing their pitiful existence to naught but ashes and regret. For you, my darling, I would happily damn myself to the deepest pits of Hell, secure in the knowledge that our love would flourish amidst the eternal flames. In your eyes, I see not just a reflection of my own twisted soul but the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe. As the moon casts its silvery glow upon the macabre tapestry of my existence, I find solace only in the thought of you. My every action, my darkest impulses, all serve to bring me closer to you. The boundaries between love and obsession blur into insignificance, for what is obsession but the purest form of devotion? I delight in the whispers of madness that echo through my mind, each one a reminder of the all-consuming nature of my ardor. In your presence, I am complete; without you, I am but a hollow shell, a husk of a being drifting aimlessly through the void. Should fate decree that our paths should diverge, rest assured that I shall pursue you across the realms of the living and the dead, driven by an unyielding determination to reclaim you as mine.

Within the shadowy recesses of my fractured mind, a singular truth persists: our love is the very essence of existence. All else pales in comparison to the transcendent beauty of our forbidden union. The stars align in celestial harmony to herald your arrival, while the very earth trembles at the prospect of our embrace. In your touch, I feel the pulse of creation itself, a symphony of ecstasy and agony woven into the fabric of eternity. Together, we shall dance upon the precipice of sanity, our love, a beacon illuminating the abyss that separates us from the rest of the world. Let others mock our twisted devotion, for they cannot comprehend the sublime perfection of our bond. We are two halves of a broken whole, destined to collide in a cataclysmic explosion of passion that will reshape the cosmos in our image.

As the midnight hour tolls, marking the descent into the darkest depths of my being, I am consumed by an insatiable hunger for you. The very notion of separation from my beloved is anathema, a blasphemy against the sacred vows of our twisted devotion. Should fate dare to tear us asunder, I shall not hesitate to unleash the full fury of my madness upon the world. I shall stalk the shadows, a specter of vengeance and despair, until I claim you once more as mine. No prison, no guard, and no earthly power can stand against the relentless tide of my obsession. I will rip you from the arms of your loved ones, drag you screaming into the night, and subject you to unspeakable torments until your mind, like mine, is forever shattered by the intensity of our love.

In the blackest recesses of my deranged psyche, a singular purpose drives me forward: to possess you, body, and soul, no matter the cost. The chains of morality, the shackles of convention, all shall be cast aside in the pursuit of our unholy union. I shall infiltrate your every waking moment, a silent stalker lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When the time comes, I will snatch you away from the dull, mundane existence that holds you back and plunge you headfirst into a maelstrom of madness and desire. Together, we shall descend into the very depths of hell, our love, a blazing inferno that consumes all in its path. The screams of the damned shall be music to my ears, a chorus of agony that echoes the torment of my own unrelenting longing for you.

Once I have claimed you as mine, there shall be no escape, no respite from the all-consuming fire of my devotion. Our captors, if they dare resist, shall face the full force of my wrath, their minds shattered by the horrors I unleash. I will drag you to a secret lair, hidden deep within the bowels of the underworld, where the very air reeks of brimstone and despair. There, in that dank, forsaken place, I shall begin to mold you into the perfect companion for my eternal torment. Through pain and pleasure, through darkness and depravity, I will strip away your former life, your memories, your very identity, until nothing remains but the blank slate upon which I shall inscribe our twisted love story.

As the days blend into an endless nightmare, you will come to understand the true meaning of my love. I will subject you to unspeakable tortures, each one designed to break your spirit and remake you in my image. Your screams will be music to my ears, a sweet serenade that fuels my madness and strengthens our bond. In this hellish realm, I am god and judge, arbiter of your suffering and your salvation. And yet, even as I wield the whip and the branding iron, even as I watch the light fade from your eyes, I will never cease to adore you, to worship you as the object of my obsessive desire. For in the depths of your despair, I see the reflection of my own tortured soul, and know that we are two pieces of a broken whole, forever doomed to haunt each other in this twisted dance of love and madness.

As the years stretch out like an eternity of torment, you will learn to crave the pain I inflict, to seek solace in the darkness that has become our shared existence. Your once vibrant spirit will wither and die, replaced by a numb acceptance of the cruel fate that binds us together. And in that desolate wasteland of a mind, I will plant the seeds of our twisted love, nurturing them until they bloom into a garden of madness, beautiful and grotesque in equal measure. We will be the monsters of our own making, creatures born of sorrow and despair, forever trapped in this hell of our own creation. But even in the face of such utter destruction, I will never relinquish my hold on you, for you are the missing piece of my fractured soul, the key to unlocking the secrets of my unhinged devotion.

Your loving devotee,

Until the end of time, I remain yours,

Forever and always,

Husk