#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.

[aemondwhoresworld]

THE LORD’S REDEMPTION

pairing: benjicot blackwood x reader

summary: in the intricate world of Westeros, alliances are forged and broken through marriages arranged for political gain. lady y/n of house y/l/n finds herself wed to benjicot blackwood, lord of raventree hall, a union intended to strengthen ties between their noble houses. although the marriage was one of duty, y/n begins to believe that genuine affection and love are blossoming between them, especially after the birth of their first daughter. however, her world is shattered when she discovers benjicot in the arms of his childhood friend, a betrayal that cuts deep. but in the end, love and repentance prove stronger, as benjicot, on his knees, begs for her forgiveness, vowing to honor and cherish her for the rest of their days. | word count: 2,6k

warning: english is not my first language. mention of cheating, gavebirth, infidelity, angst to fluff, etc

my first benji fic, currently there is no taglist for benji, thanks my bf to co-write this with me (almost half of the fic)

The halls of Raventree Hall were alive with the sound of celebration. The feast had been lavish, the guests numerous, and the union of House Y/L/N and House Blackwood had been met with cheers and well-wishes from all who attended. But as the night wore on, and the newlywed couple retired to their chambers, the reality of their marriage settled in.

Lady Y/N stood by the window, looking out into the darkened forest that surrounded her new home. The trees of the Blackwood lands were ancient, their branches gnarled and twisted like the old stories of the Children of the Forest. She had heard the tales as a child, but now, in this strange new place, those stories felt more real than ever.

Benjicot Blackwood, her husband, was a man of few words. He had been courteous and respectful, as expected of a lord, but there had been little warmth between them. Their marriage was one of duty, an alliance between two noble houses, and Y/N knew that well. Still, there was a small part of her that longed for something more, a connection that went beyond the cold formality of politics.

As she stood lost in thought, Benjicot approached her. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, his voice soft, as if he were afraid to break the quiet. “The stars are brighter here than in other parts of the realm.”

Y/N turned to him, surprised by the comment. “They are,” she agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It reminds me of home.”

Benjicot nodded, his gaze following hers out the window. “I know this is not the life you envisioned,” he began, hesitating slightly. “But I hope, in time, you’ll find happiness here.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. It was a fleeting moment, but it was enough to plant a seed of hope in her heart. “I hope so too, my lord,” she replied, her voice gentle.

That night, as they lay side by side in the large bed, Y/N felt the weight of his presence beside her. The sheets were cold at first, but as they lay in silence, she felt his hand slowly, hesitantly, reach for hers. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. She squeezed his hand in return, a silent acknowledgment that perhaps, just perhaps, they could make this marriage into something more than just an arrangement.

Months passed, and the seasons changed. Y/N and Benjicot fell into a comfortable rhythm, learning to navigate their roles as husband and wife. There were moments of shared laughter, quiet conversations by the fire, and even a few stolen kisses that felt more natural with time. It wasn’t the passionate love story Y/N had once dreamed of, but it was something real, something she could build upon.

When Y/N discovered she was with child, the news was met with joy throughout Raventree Hall. The Blackwood line would continue, and the bond between House Y/L/N and House Blackwood was now cemented by blood. The pregnancy brought a new closeness between Y/N and Benjicot. He was attentive, always ensuring she was comfortable, and took great care in preparing for the arrival of their child.

The day their daughter was born, Y/N’s heart swelled with love as she held the tiny bundle in her arms. The babe had her mother’s eyes and her father’s dark hair, a perfect blend of the two houses. Benjicot stood beside the bed, watching in awe as Y/N cradled their daughter.

“Would you like to hold her?” Y/N asked, looking up at him with a soft smile.

Benjicot hesitated for a moment, as if afraid he might harm the delicate creature in his wife’s arms. But when Y/N gently placed the baby in his hands, his fear melted away. As he gazed down at his daughter, his eyes softened, and Y/N saw something in him she hadn’t seen before—love, pure and unguarded.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve given me the greatest gift, Y/N.”

In that moment, Y/N felt closer to him than ever before. As she watched him hold their daughter, she allowed herself to believe that this marriage, once forged out of duty, had grown into something much deeper. Perhaps they could be happy after all.

But happiness in Westeros was often fleeting.

It was a stormy night when Y/N’s world came crashing down. She had awoken in the middle of the night to find the bed empty beside her. The sheets were cold, and the silence of the room was deafening. Worry gnawed at her as she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and ventured out into the darkened corridors of Raventree Hall.

She searched for Benjicot, her heart pounding with every step. When she finally found him, it was as if the ground had been ripped out from under her.

There, in a secluded alcove near the godswood, stood Benjicot, his arms wrapped around a woman Y/N recognized all too well—Lysa Rivers, his childhood friend. The two of them were locked in a passionate embrace, their lips pressed together in a kiss that spoke of old, unresolved feelings.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She felt as if a knife had been plunged into her chest, the pain sharp and unrelenting. This was the man she had come to love, the father of her child, and he was betraying her in the most unforgivable way.

Before she knew it, she was running, fleeing the scene of her heartbreak. The rain poured down in torrents, drenching her as she ran back to her chambers, but she didn’t care. The physical cold was nothing compared to the icy numbness that had settled in her heart.

When Benjicot finally returned to their chambers, he found Y/N standing by the window, her back to him. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice laced with guilt. “Please, let me explain.”

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. “Explain? What is there to explain, Benjicot? I saw you! I saw you with her!” Her voice cracked, the pain evident in every word.

Benjicot looked stricken, as if her words had wounded him. “It was a mistake, a moment of weakness—”

“A mistake?” Y/N’s voice rose in disbelief. “You betrayed me, Benjicot! You betrayed our marriage, our family!” She took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “I thought…I thought you loved me. I thought we had built something real.”

“I do love you,” Benjicot said desperately, reaching for her, but she stepped back, out of his reach. “I’ve loved you since the day you placed our daughter in my arms. But Lysa…she was my past, Y/N. She was someone I cared for long before we were married. When I saw her tonight, old feelings resurfaced, and I… I lost control. But it meant nothing, I swear it.”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t betray someone you love, Benjicot. You don’t risk everything for a fleeting moment with someone else.”

The hurt in her voice cut him deeply, and he sank to his knees before her, his head bowed in shame. “Please, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve wronged you in the worst way possible. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m begging you—don’t leave me. Don’t take our daughter away from me. I will do anything, anything to make this right.”

Y/N looked down at him, her heart torn. The man before her was not the strong, confident lord she had married, but a broken man, consumed by regret. Part of her wanted to push him away, to let him suffer for the pain he had caused her. But another part of her, the part that still loved him despite everything, couldn’t bear to see him like this.

“Benjicot,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive you for this. The pain you’ve caused me… it’s more than I can bear. But I won’t make any decisions tonight. I need time—to think, to heal. For now, I’ll stay, for our daughter’s sake. But know this—you will have to work harder than you ever have before to earn back my trust.”

Benjicot nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I will, Y/N. I swear to you, I will spend every day proving to you that you are the only woman I love, the only one I will ever love.”

The days that followed were filled with an uneasy quiet. Benjicot was true to his word—he devoted himself to Y/N and their daughter, never straying far from her side. He sought to make amends not with grand gestures, but with small, consistent acts of kindness and care. He listened to her, respected her space, and showed her in every way he could that she was his priority.

Y/N watched him carefully, her heart still guarded. The pain of his betrayal lingered, a sharp reminder of the trust that had been shattered. Yet, as the days turned into weeks, she couldn't deny the change in him. Benjicot seemed different, as if the weight of his guilt had transformed him. He was more attentive, more present than he had ever been before, and she could see the earnestness in his every action.

One evening, as autumn began to deepen, Y/N sat in their chambers, her daughter playing on a woven rug near the hearth. The little girl babbled happily, her tiny hands grasping at the colorful wooden toys Benjicot had carved himself. Y/N found herself smiling despite the turmoil in her heart. Her daughter’s laughter was a balm to her soul, a reminder that there was still good in her life, something pure and untainted.

Benjicot entered the room quietly, as he often did these days, as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile peace between them. He knelt beside their daughter, picking up one of the toys and joining her in play. Y/N watched them, her heart softening as she saw the love in his eyes, the way he doted on their child with such tenderness.

After a while, Benjicot looked up at Y/N, his expression tentative. "Would you walk with me in the godswood?" he asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.

Y/N hesitated. The godswood had always been a place of solace for her, a place where she could think and find peace. But it was also the place where she had first seen him with Lysa, the place where her heart had been broken. Still, she nodded. "Alright," she agreed, rising from her seat.

They walked in silence at first, the cool evening air rustling the leaves overhead. The old weirwood tree stood at the heart of the godswood, its red leaves vibrant against the darkening sky. Y/N had always found comfort here, under the watchful eyes of the old gods, but tonight she felt a sense of trepidation.

Benjicot stopped beneath the weirwood, turning to face her. His expression was earnest, his eyes full of remorse. "Y/N," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "I've been doing a lot of thinking these past weeks. I've thought about what I did, how I betrayed you, and I've realized just how much I stand to lose. I was a fool, blinded by the past, and in doing so, I risked everything we have. I can never take back what I did, and I will live with that regret for the rest of my life."

He took a deep breath, stepping closer to her. "But I want you to know that I am committed to earning back your trust. I love you, Y/N. I love our daughter, and I love the life we've built together. I don't expect you to forgive me easily, and I don't expect things to go back to the way they were overnight. But I will keep trying, every day, to prove to you that you are the only woman in my heart, the only woman I will ever want by my side."

Y/N listened to his words, her emotions swirling. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation in his voice. He was baring his soul to her, laying himself at her mercy, and for the first time since that fateful night, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way forward.

"Benjicot," she said, her voice soft but steady, "what you did hurt me more than I can put into words. It felt like everything we had built together, everything I thought we had, was just… shattered. But I can see how much you regret it, and I can see how hard you're trying to make amends. I won't lie to you—it's going to take time for me to heal, and it's going to take time for me to trust you again. But I don't want to throw away what we have, either. I want to believe that we can rebuild, that we can find a way back to each other."

Benjicot’s eyes filled with tears, and he took her hands in his, holding them as if they were the most precious thing in the world. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise you, Y/N, I will spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice."

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy but hopeful. "Then let's take it one day at a time," she said softly. "Let's start again, and see where this road takes us."

In the days and weeks that followed, Y/N and Benjicot began the slow process of rebuilding their relationship. It wasn’t easy—there were moments of doubt, of lingering pain that resurfaced when Y/N least expected it. But each time, Benjicot was there, patient and understanding, never pushing her but always ready to support her when she needed it.

They spent more time together, taking long walks in the godswood, sharing meals, and talking late into the night. Benjicot opened up to her in ways he never had before, sharing stories from his childhood, his fears, and his hopes for the future. Y/N found herself doing the same, and gradually, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

One evening, as they sat together by the hearth, their daughter asleep in her cradle, Benjicot took Y/N’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes full of the sincerity that had come to define him since that night. "I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to know that it’s true. You and our daughter mean everything to me."

Y/N looked into his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of peace. "I love you too," she replied, her voice soft but full of conviction. "It’s going to take time, but I believe in us. I believe that we can build something even stronger than before."

Benjicot smiled, a smile that reached his eyes and warmed her heart. "Together, we can do anything," he said, and in that moment, Y/N knew it to be true.

Their journey wasn’t over—there were still challenges to face, and scars that would take time to heal. But as they held each other close, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow over them, Y/N felt a sense of hope for the future. They had been through darkness, but now they were stepping into the light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came their way.

And in the end, that was what mattered most—their love, their commitment to each other, and the promise of a new beginning.

[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, sᴜᴋᴜ��ᴀ

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.

[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?

[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…

[twstowo]

Prologue [Sorceress!Yuu x OB!Characters]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: A powerful sorceress, capable of granting wishes, finds herself locked inside a mirror. To break free, she will need to seek the help of Yuu from another universe.

♡︎ The sorceress from the first universe is referred to with "she/her" pronouns, whereas the true main character (reader) is referred to as "they/them."

♡︎Inspired by the trope where the princess gets stuck in a tower but gets out by herself.

「 ✦ Next✦ 」

In the heart of a dark forest stood a sorceress, dwelling within her solitary tower. Legend speaks of her uncanny ability to transform any wish into reality, albeit at a cost. In days long past, she had wielded her magical prowess for noble causes, yet the allure of power proved too intoxicating. Once one savors its might, the craving for more consumes their soul.

Before this sorceress could execute her nefarious plans, she fell victim to a curse, locking her within the tower's walls, forever barred from the outside world.

As time passed, the people gradually forgot about her, and tranquility returned to the land. Meanwhile, the sorceress found solace in her secluded existence, immersing herself in the pursuit of knowledge, delving into tomes of spells, potions, and enchantments. Unknown to her, time slipped away, and she faded into the realm of myth and legend, becoming but a tale told to children.

Isolated in her tower, she longed for connection until an unexpected visitor arrived—a curious man seeking to make a wish. Yet, instead of a quick visit, he became captivated by the sorceress's wisdom, and soon, a profound bond grew between them. Weeks stretched into months, and their intimacy deepened, blossoming into a love that transcended the confines of her imprisonment. However, the man, driven by his affection, sought to liberate her from the tower's curse, sacrificing his wish for her freedom. In a tragic twist, he deliberately became taken by a dreadful curse—one that plagued all who sought wishes from her, gradually corroding their sanity.

The freed sorceress, grateful yet burdened by the unwanted consequences, watched in dismay as the man, once her savior, transformed into a tyrant ruling his kingdom with an iron fist. Unable to undo the curse's grip on him, she fled, compelled to escape his descent into madness, a consequence of her magic that she could not rectify.

Seeking to distance herself from the haunting memory of her lost love, the sorceress embraced her newfound freedom, venturing into a world vastly transformed during her tower-bound years. She traveled across kingdoms, encountering six more men, each with their unique dreams and desires. Yet, inevitably, they too succumbed to the enchantment of her beauty, intellect, and mastery of magic.

One by one, they approached her, fervently wishing for their heart's desires, only to be ensnared by the curse that clouded their minds, mirroring the fate of the first man. Each succumbed to the same tragic spiral of losing their sanity, trapped within the vicious cycle born from their wishes.

Haunted by the knowledge that her powers led to this relentless cycle of despair, the sorceress carried the weight of their curse, burdened by the unintended consequences of her abilities.

Faced with a profound sense of helplessness and remorse, the sorceress found herself drawn back to the confines of her tower,battling with the weight of her actions. The toll of her powers had caused irreversible harm to those she had grown to care for, leaving a trail of shattered lives in her wake.

Overwhelmed by regret and the desperate desire to undo the havoc she had wrought, she yearned to erase the consequences of her wishes. However, in a cruel twist, once the wish was granted, it became an unalterable reality, binding the person to its irreversible effects. She realized the bitter irony of her deepest desires – longing to break free from her isolation had inadvertently led to the ruin of seven lives, all because she sought companionship and a glimpse beyond her tower's confines.

Haunted by the inescapable truth that she could never amend the past, the sorceress struggled with the agony of longing for a return to the solitude she once wished to escape. Trapped within the paradox of her own wishes, she yearned for a reality where she had never ventured beyond the safety of her tower's walls.

In a tragic turn, the sorceress's fate descended further into darkness. Amid her quest for undoing the curses of her once friends, an unsettling disturbance outside her tower drew her attention. Peering out, she saw—six of the seven men she had cursed. Their beings exuded the overwhelming aura of the curses that had consumed them entirely. Lost within their own tormented thoughts, their hearts filled with a relentless thirst for vengeance against her, their memories clouded by self-loathing and venomous resentment toward the sorceress.

Knowing that confrontation would only perpetuate the cycle of suffering, she stepped out, asking for forgiveness, her pleas falling upon deafened ears blinded by fury and hatred. Together, driven by their collective anguish and rage, they devised a punishment more merciless than mere imprisonment within a tower. Instead, they imprisoned her within a mirror—a cruel fate that denied her any semblance of escape or freedom.

Helpless and trapped within her mirrored confinement, the sorceress became a prisoner. They, in turn, carried the mirror to their kingdoms, parading her before the world she would forever be denied, a mocking reminder of the life she could never experience again. Forced to witness the outside world she yearned for, yet eternally barred from touching or experiencing it, the sorceress endured an unending torment crafted by the very souls she inadvertently harmed.

Trapped within the confinements of the mirror world, the sorceress found herself in a relentless pursuit of an escape, weaving incantations and spells in a desperate bid to break free. Despite her unwavering determination, her magic yielded no solutions within the confines of the mirrored realm.

Realization dawned upon her—a solution lay beyond the confines of her mirrored prison. She needed aid from someone external, but trust was a scarce commodity in her world. Amidst her predicament, a glimmer of hope arose: herself. She knew the depths of her own intentions, the truths that guided her, and the longing to erase the unintended consequences of her actions.

With a resolve forged from the depths of her isolation and remorse, she sought a way to reach beyond the mirror's boundaries, attempting to communicate with her own self outside.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

‎♡‧₊˚Thank you for reading!

「 ✦ Next✦ 」

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 4: Obedience (Link/Midna)

Ao3

CW for blood and injury, torture, and mild body horror

——————————-

Midna is no stranger to the sound of screams.

Her people had cried out when Zant had taken the throne and transformed her beautiful kingdom into something dark and twisted. Their cries of agony and anguish had echoed in her ears as she fled, a hideous imp, humiliated and furious. And they have remained with her all this time, spurring her onward toward salvation and victory.

But the noise that fills the air now is terrible in its own right. It pierces her skull and sets her heart racing erratically in her chest. And it feels as though it has been going on for eternity.

In reality, however, it has probably only been a few minutes. It doesn’t matter though. Midna has never derived joy from seeing Link suffer. This time is no different.

“Midna,” Zant’s leering voice reaches her ears once more, cascading smoothly over the waning sound of the hero’s hoarse screams. “Be an obedient dear and lend me your power. Do so and your precious, little human need not suffer further.”

Midna’s gaze travels down to where Link kneels mere feet away from her. His body is rigid, held in place by invisible bindings. His cap has fallen a short distance from him; his tunic and pants are splotched with mud, sweat, and blood. Tears stream down his ashen cheeks and well in his eyes, turning their gray the color of a stormy sky. But there is fire in them.

“Don’t,” he gasps, voice painfully ragged. “Please, Midna.”

Zant flicks a hand and the hero tenses further, an agonized whine breaking free.

“Quiet, dog,” he growls. “Count yourself lucky that I have allowed you the dignity of this form rather than letting the twilight have its way with you.”

“Lucky?” Midna shrieks, unable and unwilling to restrain herself. The nerve of this man! Calling himself her king, banishing her from her kingdom, demanding her aid…and now, hurting the hero. Her hero. “Being a human in a twilight realm is excruciating and you know that full well!”

“Come now, Midna,” Zant purrs, rounding her once more. His attempts at sweetness are as sour as his breath. “Calm yourself. This…human is pathetic in comparison to us. He has enjoyed the fruits of his people’s cruelty for far too long. It is time he felt some small portion of what we have endured.”

Midna is seething now. If only she were in her true form. If only she had that shadow crystal. She would rip this monster’s limbs off and cast him into the light-filled world he so detests.

“What we’ve endured?” She spits. “What about the things my people have suffered by your hand? You call yourself their king while you turn them into disgusting beasts!”

She kicks out, struggling against her bonds. But they hold fast, as suffocating and restrictive as this world.

“I have made the kingdom what it long should have been,” Zant replies, tone darkening. “You would have had it fall into obscurity and disrepair. You would have had our people forget all that they have endured because of the light dwellers.

“But you evade the question, my fallen princess. Will you help me or not?”

Link’s eyes find hers. He is breathing hard, shuddering beneath the weight of his own form. And yet, he smiles. It is only the slightest upturn of the lips, like a thread of twilight stretching bravely into the world of light. But Midna sees it all the same.

“Never.”

The word when she speaks it, shatters the momentary silence. She doesn’t have to see him to know Zant’s expression has turned murderous.

(Though, if she’s being honest, does it ever not look murderous? The man is vile.)

Her eyes, however, are only for Link. He is looking at her with pride in his gaze, pride and…maybe the beginnings of something else? She can’t be certain.

Whatever it is, she doesn’t deserve it.

“No?” Zant laughs and it seems to echo in the cavernous space. “Well then. You truly have fallen far Midna, to conspire with light dwellers in such a way. It nauseates me!”

Power surges through the air, a projectile of pure darkness slicing its way toward the hero. The energy it emanates is so dark, so sinister the air reverberates with it.

Midna gasps as she realizes what is about to happen. With an enraged screech, she struggles even harder than before. But she is helpless to stop it.

Darkness, fierce and sharp, collides with Link’s chest. It keeps going, shoving aside flesh and muscle and bone to burrow deep into his heart. His eyes go wide, blood bubbling from his lips as he chokes on a cry.

“This light dweller pretends to care for you and your world,” Zant sneers. “Perhaps, then, he will enjoy internalizing the shadows you inhabit.”

A skull-shattering scream pierces the air. Link thrashes, fighting desperately to get loose. Streaks of black crawl across his skin now, craters of molten obsidian amongst bloodless white.

“I wonder how much he can take before he breaks,” Zant muses.

He twists sleeve-hidden fingers and abruptly, Link crumples. Shadows dance in the air around him as he transforms. And then a beast lays twitching on the ground before her.

“No, stop!” The shout breaks free before she can restrain it.

But Zant doesn’t seem to even hear her. He is too enraptured by his own sadistic glee at Link’s agony.

The shadows around him grow thicker now, more potent. The obsidian marks spread like jagged lines of ink and blood oozes in their wake. They mar the hero’s lush gray coat, trickle into his once-bright eyes.

Midna inhales a ragged breath. If she doesn’t stop this, if she doesn’t act Link will die. That cannot happen.

She needs him to help her save her kingdom and her people. She needs him to save that little country town of his, and the kids who gaze at him like he is the sun itself, and the family he adores despite how they so violently despised his wolf form. She needs him to save the land Zelda has sacrificed so much for, the land Link looks upon with wonder.

She needs…she needs him.

So, she takes a deep breath and focuses. There is a crack, she realizes with a spark of hope, in the magic Zant is using to restrain her. She isn’t certain how she didn’t see it before. Perhaps, it wasn’t even there before.

It doesn’t matter. All that’s important is the way she can exploit it.

Midna forces her hands inside it, pulls it wider and wider until it is a gaping hole. Then, she shoves herself through, shattering her bonds as she does so. And when she opens her eyes once more, she is free.

She hits the ground with a dull thud and scrambles up. Zant whirls to face her, a screech of indignation ringing out as he unsheathes his swords. But she is too fast for him.

Fiery locks fly free, scooping the still-shuddering hero into their silken folds. Magic surges through her panicked and quick. And with a burst of sharp shadows, they are gone.

She lands them in Hyrule Field, for lack of a better place. It is far from most villages at least, with their mindless terror and ready torches. Gently, she lowers Link into the blades of green grass.

She can only hope that the teleportation wasn’t too much for him. But what other choice had she had?

“Link.”

Midna reaches out, ghostly fingers brushing his cheek. The word hitches in her throat, traitorous emotion struggling to break free. Fiercely, she shoves it back down.

“Come on, you idiot! Wake up!”

As if in response, his breath stutters. Gray-blue eyes flutter open, flitting about in a panic before they land on her. He shifts, brushing his nose against her immaterial form. A low whine echoes in his throat.

Midna lets out a shaky sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. Worry about yourself like you should.”

Link huffs a breath, seeming indignant. But his efforts are weak. His usual snark is gone with his strength, sapped by the madman who had sought to use him.

Shaking her head, Midna turns to gaze at the castle that bravely rises past the horizon.

“You just hold on, Link,” she murmurs. “I’ll get you the help you need.”

And after that? She’ll find the might necessary to hurl Zant into the sun.

[thereceptioniststyles]

Stolen Glances

Harry.

His name echoed in my mind, a constant presence that refused to let me sleep. I was consumed by an insatiable curiosity about him. When would our paths cross? What did he really look like? Did he possess the necessary skills to excel as a receptionist? These questions may have seemed trivial, but little did I know that Harry would become the catalyst for the destruction of my entire existence.

The days crawled by, each one dripping with mounting anticipation. I found it nearly impossible to concentrate, the mere thought of his imminent arrival sending shivers down my spine. And yet, fate had a cruel twist in store for me. Our meeting would not unfold as I had envisioned. No, it would be the other way around.

I parked my car on the desolate street, my hands trembling as I rummaged through my purse in search of my employee badge. The frigid air bit at my fingers, numbing them to the bone, making it a challenge to locate the badge amidst the chaos within my bag. After what felt like an eternity, I finally grasped it, only to have my nerves intensify as I hastened my pace down the pavement. The weight of the unknown bearing down on me.

I arrived at the entrance of the imposing building, the echo of my footsteps drowned out by the sound of my racing heart. With a trembling hand, I swiped my ID card, granting myself access to the enigmatic realm that awaited me. As I stepped inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the reception desk where two girls engaged in animated conversation, their attention seemingly fixated on a phone call, undoubtedly scheduling an appointment. And then, it happened. Our gazes collided. Him.

Harry was nothing like the image I had constructed in my mind. In my fantasies, he was a polished intellectual, a charming nerd of sorts. But reality shattered my illusions. I stood there, rooted to the spot, utterly stupefied. Callie had not been exaggerating when she spoke of his attractiveness.

He was breathtaking. His dark hair cascaded in gentle waves, as though meticulously crafted to caress his forehead with effortless grace. His eyes, oh those piercing green eyes, possessed an intensity that could penetrate the very walls of my soul. His skin, concealed beneath a rolled-up button-down shirt, hinted at a fair complexion tinged with a subtle tan. And there, just beneath the cuff, tantalizing glimpses of inked artistry teased my hungry eyes.

My heart threatened to burst through my ribcage, its erratic beats echoing in my ears like a war drum. I prayed fervently that he hadn't caught me in the act of staring, my gaze fixated on him like a moth drawn to a flame. With trembling hands, I gathered my belongings, desperate to appear composed as I scurried towards my desk. I cast my eyes downward, then upward, anywhere but in his direction. I struggled to regain my focus, but it was an uphill battle. The world around me seemed to freeze, time grinding to a halt while my palms grew clammy with nervous perspiration.

As clients checked out and appointments were booked, I threw myself into the tasks at hand, a whirlwind of activity to distract myself from the magnetic pull of Harry's presence. I rushed to answer the phone, offering assistance to the person on the other end of the line. I did everything in my power to keep my hands and mind occupied, until I reached a point where distraction was futile.

One girl was engrossed in a phone call, another on her lunch break, and suddenly it was just Harry and me. I stole glances in his direction, catching glimpses of him, absorbed in learning the intricacies of the computer system. I could feel his eyes on me too, a magnetic connection that sent shivers down my spine. I silently thanked myself for taking the extra time to primp and preen, unwilling to appear anything less than presentable in his presence. After all, a guy like him, he was practically divine.

Suddenly, a voice shattered the cacophony of conflicting thoughts that had been swirling in my mind. The sound of his chair wheels sliding across the floor reverberated through the air, drawing my attention towards him.

"Hi," Harry's voice was a soft whisper, sending an electric current coursing through my veins. "I'm Harry."

In those few words, I felt a primal surge of wildness coursing through my being. It was as if my very essence had been awakened, ready to unleash an untamed, feral side of myself that I never knew existed.

The desire coursing through my veins was insatiable, an all-consuming fire that threatened to consume me whole. I longed to tear through any obstacle that stood between us, to claw my way to him and feel the strength of his arms, hidden beneath those rolled-up sleeves. My heart yearned to devote itself entirely to him, to become a willing sacrifice at the altar of his presence. In that moment, he was a god, and I was but a mere mortal, ready to surrender myself to his whims.

I nodded, my head barely moving, as if I were in a trance. I paused, gathering my thoughts for a fleeting moment, before slowly lifting my gaze to meet his. His emerald eyes bore into the depths of my soul, capturing my very essence in their hypnotic gaze.

"I'm Ayla," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I kept my introduction brief, fully aware of the potential to make a complete fool of myself. I had to tread carefully, to consider my every word and action in his presence.

A smile played at the corners of his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he extended his hand towards me, an invitation for a handshake. My hand trembled as it found its place within his, our palms meeting in a delicate clasp. A surge of electricity surged through me, setting my entire body ablaze.

"So, do you enjoy this job?" Harry inquired, his voice laced with genuine curiosity and a thick British accent. I nodded, a silent affirmation of my satisfaction.

"Yeah, it's fun. It has its ups and downs, but then again, what job doesn't?" I replied, attempting to maintain composure despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.

Our eyes remained locked, an unspoken connection forming between us, until our manager emerged from her office, interrupting the charged atmosphere. She was a stern, no-nonsense woman who commanded respect with every stride. Her presence was a stark contrast to the intoxicating aura that surrounded Harry.

"Ah, Harry," our manager's voice cut through the air, her tone businesslike yet friendly. "I see you've met Ayla, one of our valued team members."

Harry released my hand, reluctantly breaking our connection, and turned towards our manager. "Yes, we just had a very brief introduction," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of warmth.

"Well, Ayla," our manager addressed me, her gaze piercing. "I trust you'll show Harry the ropes and ensure he settles in smoothly."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest as I absorbed the weight of her words. Showing Harry the ropes meant spending more time with him, delving deeper into the enchanting allure he exuded. It was an opportunity I simultaneously craved and feared.

"Of course," I managed to say, my voice steady despite the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

"Ayla," she declared with a commanding tone, her voice cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "Step into my office. I have a question."

I rose swiftly from my desk, relief washing over me like a cool, soothing wave. She had come to my rescue, sparing me from the torment of prolonging the conversation with him. It wasn't right for me to entertain such thoughts, especially when I had a devoted boyfriend. Though our demanding schedules kept us apart, Beck and I had been together for nearly two years, and the last thing I needed was to be consumed by thoughts of another man who seemed out of my league.

I obediently followed Callie into her office, the heavy door clicking shut behind us. She pivoted to face me, her eyes piercing into mine, as she settled into the chair across from me.

"So," she began, her voice dripping with caution and concern, "Harry is undeniably attractive, and it's no secret that everyone finds him so. But you and Harry? That's a dangerous path, Ayla. I know you have a boyfriend, but life has a way of throwing unexpected curveballs, doesn't it? Focus on your work, stay grounded, and you'll be just fine. Besides, Harry, well, he's considerably older than you, isn't he?"

I nodded, though deep inside, I was engulfed in a sea of uncertainty. How could she draw such conclusions from a mere introduction and a brief handshake? It was unprofessional of her to pry into my personal affairs, but there was a grain of truth in her words. I had Beck, my pillar of support, the one who stood by my side.

All Parts

[jadegretz]

Wonder Woman: The Enigmatic Heroine by Jade Gretz

The salty spray of the Aegean Sea stung Diana's face as she landed on the windswept shore of Mykonos. Her golden lasso, coiled at her hip, felt uncomfortably heavy. This wasn't a mission for truth, but for a confrontation she'd dreaded for millennia.

Mykonos, once a vibrant island paradise, was now shrouded in an unnatural gloom. The normally bustling tourist spots were eerily deserted, replaced by an oppressive silence. The air crackled with a dark energy, a malevolent presence that sent shivers down Diana's spine.

This wasn't the work of Ares or any Olympian she knew. This felt older, more primal. It called to a darker corner of Themyscira's history, a time when the Amazons weren't just warriors, but hunters of a different kind.

Diana had come for Myrrine, a warrior queen from a forgotten age. Once a beacon of strength and justice, Myrrine had delved into forbidden knowledge, seeking to bend the very fabric of reality to her will. The consequences were swift and brutal. The Amazons, forced to choose between their loyalty and the safety of the world, had banished Myrrine to a dimension beyond even their reach, a realm of unending twilight.

Now, Myrrine was back, her exile shattered by an unknown force. And Mykonos, with its vibrant life force, was her feeding ground.

Diana followed the trail of devastation, the once-picturesque alleys now littered with drained husks, their life energy siphoned away. The scent of decay mingled with the cloying sweetness of rot, a sickening reminder of Myrrine's macabre methods.

Finally, she reached the heart of the darkness – a dilapidated temple on the island's highest peak. Through the crumbling archway, Diana saw a horrific tableau. Myrrine, her raven hair cascading down her back, stood amidst a circle of pulsating obsidian obelisks. Her once-noble features were twisted in a grotesque parody of a smile, her eyes glowing with an infernal fire.

Around her, drained human husks writhed on the ground, their life essence fueling the pulsating energy of the obelisks. It was a scene ripped from a nightmare, a chil …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[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. 

[pagesfromthevoid]

A Real Nightmare | a.a. | 3

Astarion x fem!tav

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex. A little bit of angst. Mild trauma bonding.

Author's Note: I really did plan on them banging in this part but then I got in my feelings and then....this happened.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist | AO3

She jolted awake, the darkness of her surroundings swallowing her confusion. A hand gripped her shoulder, pulling her from the clutches of sleep. Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of it all. This wasn't the familiar touch of Asterion, nor the comforting confines of her camp. Panic clawed at her throat, threatening to choke her.

"You're awake, good," came a voice, gentle yet urgent. It felt like a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty that engulfed her. With trembling hands, she reached out to grasp at the reality slipping through her fingers.

As she struggled to focus, she noticed the figure before her, bathed in an otherworldly glow. His armor gleamed like starlight, and his eyes held a wisdom that seemed to stretch beyond time itself. He was graying around the edges, the only indication of his age. Recognition flickered within her, a memory just out of reach.

"I know your voice," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've heard it before."

He nodded, a somber acknowledgment passing between them. "We have met," he confirmed, his words carrying the weight of shared history. "More than once."

She tried to piece together the fragments of memory, but slipped through her fingers. Something about a shipwreck, a beach strewn with wreckage and the promise of salvation. His presence felt like a thread connecting her past to her present, weaving a tapestry of destiny.

"We have met," he repeated, drawing her attention back to the present. "But now, I am here to save you again, Tav."

Her name echoed in the caverns of her mind, a beacon in the darkness. She followed him, stepping into a realm that felt both alien and achingly familiar. Reality twisted and contorted around her, a surreal landscape painted with the brushstrokes of possibility.

"Don't worry, love," he reassured, his voice a lifeline in the storm. "You will not become a mind flayer, not while I'm around. I will protect you."

She hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at her resolve. But his hand extended towards her, offering solace amidst the chaos. With trembling fingers, she reached out, her touch igniting a spark of recognition deep within her soul.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"There is a great potential within you," he explained, his words like a guiding light in the darkness. "But you must learn to wield it."

She struggled to comprehend the magnitude of his words, the weight of the future resting upon her shoulders. But before she could protest, he ushered her forward, unveiling a vision of turmoil and strife. Was he truly asking her to accept this parasite writhing in her mind? Promises were meaningless when he wouldn’t even tell her his name. Worthless when she couldn’t even trust her own mind.

"What you see is a fight for the very fate of Faerun," he explained, his voice grave with solemnity. "A fight we are losing—for now."

She watched in silence as spectral beings descended upon a ship, their presence a harbinger of doom. Fear clutched at her heart, threatening to consume her whole.

"You can change that, Tav," he implored, his eyes burning with determination. "But only if you embrace your potential."

She hesitated, the weight of his words settling like a cloak around her shoulders. But as she watched the chaos unfold before her, a fire ignited within her soul. 

"I don't understand," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

But before she could seek clarification, he was gone, leaving her alone in the void. Reality shattered around her, fragments of truth swirling like leaves in the wind.

And then, with a gasp, she awoke, the remnants of the vision fading like wisps of smoke. 

Sitting up in her bedroll, Tav took in her surroundings with a sense of disorientation. She wasn't outside by the fire where she fell asleep earlier in the night. Instead, she found herself within the confines of someone's tent. Looking around for a moment, trying to get her bearings straight, she realized it was Astarion's tent that she was occupying now.

Outside, a storm raged on, the sound of rain pounding against the canvas creating a backdrop to her thoughts. She pulled her knees to her chest, noting the scattered belongings and the subtle signs of occupation. Astarion must have brought her inside from the rain, she deduced, her gaze lingering on his wet clothes strewn across the floor. 

Then she noticed her own clothes were on the floor as well and for a moment, she panicked, looking over herself. However, she was dressed –sort of, at least. It was one of Asterion's night shirts –loose and a bit tattered on closer inspection –but dry against her otherwise rain slicked skin. While she wasn’t wearing anything beyond the shirt and her underwear, she wondered why Astarion, of all people, decided to bring her in from the storm.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement from where he stood perched at the flap of his tent. He wasn't looking at her –instead keeping his eyes out on the storm. Her eyes trailed over the markings on his back, exposed skin raised into scars that covered the entirety of his pale flesh. He had explained them previously, having gone on a bit of a personal tirade about Cazador and the torture forced on Astarion. Tav had listened intently that night –only for him to blow it off like it wasn’t clearly traumatizing for him.  "Someone’s finally awake –I hope whatever dream was keeping you so occupied was worth soaking everything you own.”

“I…yeah, I guess it was,” she managed to say, though she didn’t know how to explain what she had experienced in her dreams. She wondered, momentarily, if any of the others had a similar dream. “Have you tranced tonight, yet?”

Astarion shook his head, finally turning away from the storm to look down at her. “Too much is happening to properly rest, I’m afraid. Perhaps tomorrow. Besides –you are using my bedroll.”

Silence filled the space between them for a beat, with Tav still processing everything that had happened in her dream. His eyes were on her, piercing and analytical, even as he moved through his tent and collected a book from the stack beside her. 

“I didn’t mean to take over your space,” she finally sighed, running a hand through her wet hair. “Thank you for bringing me inside.”

Astarion snatched two of the larger cushions she had been laying on and tossed them to the side, sitting down on them himself. His legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, and he opened the book in his hands, his attention no longer on her.

Then he shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as his eyes scanned the pages of his book. "No harm done," he replied, waving one hand dismissively. "Consider it repayment of sorts…for the blood. And besides –I couldn’t bear the idea of drinking from someone ill, Tav. The sickly don’t taste nearly as good as the healthy.”

Stretching her bare legs in front of her once more, Tav raised a brow at him as she tried to read the title of his book. Noble Blood, Common Heart, a silly little romance novel that she had picked up from one of the villages they had traveled through. Most of the books she snagged she simply left in the camp for whoever wanted to read them. Something about Astarion choosing a romance novel was almost funny to her.

“Do you like it?” She asked, motioning to the book in his hands. “I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”

He glanced over the top of the book, eyeing her closely for a moment before he closed it. “It fills the void.”

“The void of…what, exactly?” 

“Desire, boredom, lust –whatever fits the bill,” he explained simply, returning his attention to the book. Tav’s brows furrowed in thought, trying to understand what in the hells he meant by the comment. He must have sensed her confusion because he drawled out, “Sex, my dear. It fills the void of wanting to have sex.”

At that, she barked out a laugh and looked at him funny. “I can’t imagine any book filling the void of actual intimacy, but to each their own, I suppose.”

Astarion chuckled, a sound that held a hint of mischief. "Ah, but you underestimate the power of literature, my dear Tav," he retorted, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Words have a way of stirring the imagination, igniting passions that transcend the physical realm."

Tav raised an eyebrow, skeptical yet intrigued by his words. "So, you're saying that reading about it is just as satisfying as the real thing?"

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps not quite as satisfying, but it certainly offers a...distraction," he replied cryptically, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

She shook her head, unable to suppress a smile at his audacity. "Well, I suppose everyone has their own way of coping with desire," she conceded, her tone laced with amusement. "Though I’m certain there’s better distractions out here than books.”

“Are there?” He questioned, setting the book down now to finally give his full attention back to her. “Unless you’re suggesting you may be a better distraction.”

“I –what? No, I was just –I meant –,”

“You’re too pretty when you blush, love,” he teased, resting his chin in his hand as he looked her over. “All hot and bothered and I’m not even doing anything to cause it.”

Tav bit her cheek, feeling the heat rushing to her up her chest and to her ears. Astarion was too good at getting her flustered –or hot and bothered as he put it –and he was right. He wasn’t even trying to. Which only frustrated Tav more.

“If you want to have sex with me, you only have to say so,” he continued to tease, brow raised in a way that could only be described as seductive. 

“I don’t want to —I mean, of course I want to, but I don’t want…I just —,” she couldn’t manage to get the words out, embarrassed by the shift in conversation. 

There wasn’t any reason to deny her desires for the spawn in front of her. And it wasn’t as if she was some inexperienced girl; what she lacked in friends in Otherus was made up for in bed mates when she felt inclined. But that didn’t make this conversation any less embarrassing. 

She did want to sleep with him; but she wanted more than that —at least, she thought she did. She liked Astarion for all his flaws, and while she wasn’t in love with him by any means, she could certainly see herself loving him. 

More importantly though, she knew that what he was offering —a tryst in his tent —was his way of repaying her for letting him feed off of her every night. As if he owed her anything for ensuring he was strong enough. And Tav couldn’t bear the thought that he might actually think so lowly of her that all she’d want was sex from him. 

“I do want to sleep with you, Astarion,” she finally admitted, covering her face with her hands for a moment. “What I don’t want is for you to feel like you have to.”

This must have caught the elf off guard, because his brows knitted together in confusion as he sat silently for a few seconds. But his smirk returned —though it wasn’t the same as before. It was timid, not all there. 

“I can assure you, darling, if I didn’t want to —I wouldn’t be offering.”

She eyed him cautiously before finally standing and making her way to his side of the tent. Even with all her caution, she could see his shoulders tensing up as she approached. 

“I don’t want you to want me because you think that’s all I want, Astarion,” she explained, sitting on her knees in front of him. Her hands rested in her lap. “I want you to want me because that’s what you truly want. Not repayment, not obligation —not some trick you think will work on me because I’m naive. Because it is something you want for yourself.”

Astarion opened his mouth to comment, but shut it just as quick. Slowly, he sat up, the facade of the charming rogue slipping just enough that she was able to see the confusion –the fear, really –behind his eyes. While it was easy to assume that everyone she had managed to bring together had some sort of trauma they needed to sort through, something about the way Astarion held himself in this moment said quite a bit.

“You have a choice,” she finally said as he rested on his knees in front of her. “You know what I want –but I can and I will take ‘no’ for an answer if you do not want the same as I do.”

“Why?”

She wasn’t sure he meant to ask that, because his brows knit together and he snapped his mouth shut immediately after asking. But she hesitantly reached out to take his hand. And when he didn’t pull away, she rested her other on top of his, holding it carefully.

“Because we all deserve a choice, Astarion,” she promised, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I know what it’s like to lose my choice to say no, and I will never take that from someone else. Even if that someone happens to think he doesn’t have a choice.”

“I…,” Astarion trailed off, resting his free hand over hers now, their hands stacked on one another’s. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I do love when I leave you speechless,” she teased, mimicking his accent dramatically –easing out of the tension that had filled the tent.

Astarion laughed –an actual, proper laugh with a smile that she had never seen on him before –and Tav decided in that moment she would find more ways to bring him little bits of joy.

[sexy-stable-diffusion]

The tragic story of Queen Seraphina

Once upon a time, in a realm where the sun kissed the earth with a golden warmth, there existed a kingdom unlike any other. This was the land of Elaria, ruled by the wise and noble Queen Seraphina. Seraphina was renowned not only for her unparalleled beauty but for her unmatched wisdom and strength.

Her kingdom thrived under her rule, its people living in harmony and prosperity. The heart of her reign was her elite guard, the Valkyries of Elaria, fierce female warriors who were as skilled with diplomacy as they were with the blade.

Seraphina’s life was the epitome of perfection, a tapestry woven with threads of triumph and peace. Her days were filled with the laughter of her people and the counsel of her closest allies. 

Yet, the queen harbored a secret burden; a prophetic dream that spoke of a shadow that would one day engulf her bright kingdom. She dismissed it as a mere figment of her imagination, focusing instead on the present splendor of her reign.

One fateful day, as the sun hung high, Elaria’s tranquility was shattered. From the depths of the Forbidden Forest, a creature of unspeakable horror emerged with a massive demonic army. It was known as the Malgore, an organic monstrosity born from the darkest nightmares. With sinews of twisted flesh and eyes that gleamed with malevolence, it descended upon the kingdom, leaving ruin in its wake.

The Valkyries fought valiantly, their courage unwavering, but the Malgore was a force unlike any they had ever encountered. Seraphina herself donned her armor and led her warriors into battle. The clash was fierce, but the creature's power and his strong army were overwhelming. In a moment of desperation, the Malgore seized Seraphina, binding her with sinewy tendrils that pulsed with a sickly, purple light. The queen’s struggles were in vain, and with a final, triumphant roar, the beast carried her off to its lair deep within the Forbidden Forest.

Imprisoned in the dark, cavernous kingdom of the Malgore, Seraphina was held captive in a cell of living obscurity. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the walls seemed to pulse with a sinister life of their own. Days stretched into weeks, and weeks blurred into what felt like endless months. Time lost all meaning in the stifling darkness of her prison, each moment stretching into an eternity. Strangely, she felt no hunger or thirst; a malevolent presence seemed to sustain her, its dark energy seeping into her very being. This unnatural existence was a torment in itself, and yet, the true horror had yet to unfold. 

As time dragged on in the Malgore's lair, Seraphina became acutely aware of unsettling changes occurring within her body. She felt a surge in her hormones, an intensity that was impossible to ignore. Her primary instincts and physical needs grew more pronounced, overwhelming her with raw, primal urges. Her senses heightened, her skin prickling with a newfound sensitivity that made her hyper-aware of every movement, every breath in the stifling air around her.

Her thoughts, once clear and strategic, began to blur, invaded by an undercurrent of sensual desires and a fierce will to dominate. Seraphina's transformation took on a grotesque reality. Her once radiant skin began to slowly merge with the fine fabric of her clothes. The delicate lace of her underwear fused with her flesh, morphing into an unnerving, sinewy texture that pulsed with a life of its own. Each thread and seam intertwined with her body, becoming a grotesque, organic armor that seemed to breathe and move with her every gesture. The sensation was both alien and intimate, a constant reminder of the monster she was becoming. The fusion of her clothing with her body seemed to mirror the internal transformation, as her very essence was reshaped by the dark energy that kept her alive.

The organic armor could sculpt her form into any vision she desired—sleek and seductive, fierce and intimidating, or grotesquely beautiful. It accentuated her curves, highlighted her strength, and responded to her slightest touch. With each transformation, Seraphina felt a deep, sensual thrill, her new form a constant source of both power and pleasure. This living, breathing armor became a symbol of her new identity, a queen reborn in darkness, her appearance as fluid and dynamic as the desires that now drove her.

Each passing moment, she felt herself slipping further away from the noble queen she had once been, becoming something far more elemental and powerful, driven by needs she had never known before.

One day, as she lay in the stifling darkness, a single drop of water from the damp cave ceiling found its way onto her body. It slid down her shoulder, tracing a slow, deliberate path along her skin. The sensation was electric, sending a shiver of pleasure through her that made her gasp and arch involuntarily.

Every nerve in her body seemed to come alive, her heightened senses amplifying the simple touch into a moment of exquisite intensity. Her breath quickened, and she felt a deep, pulsing desire awaken within her, overpowering her thoughts with waves of sensual longing. In that dark, oppressive cave, a single drop of water became a catalyst, making her crave the forbidden pleasures her new form promised, igniting a flame of passion that consumed her utterly.

Slowly, insidiously, Seraphina’s body began to change. It started with her skin, once smooth and radiant, now becoming rough to the touch. Her fingers elongated into claws, her teeth sharpened into fangs, and her eyes, once the color of the clear sky, became red. She was becoming an abomination, a twisted reflection of the monster that had imprisoned her.

As her transformation progressed, Seraphina found her mind clouding with dark thoughts. The Malgore's influence seeped into her very soul, corrupting her memories and warping her sense of self. She could feel her humanity slipping away, replaced by a primal, feral instinct. Yet, amidst the encroaching darkness, a spark of her former self remained. It was this spark that kept her from succumbing completely to the Malgore's will.

One night, as she lay in her living prison, Seraphina heard a voice echoing through the darkness. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it called to her. Following the sound, she discovered a hidden chamber within the cave, its walls covered in ancient runes that glowed with a soft, blue light. At the center of the chamber was a pool of crystal-clear water. As she approached, the water shimmered, and a vision appeared before her.

It was the spirit of Elaria’s first queen, a legendary figure who had defeated the Malgore centuries ago. The spirit spoke to Seraphina, telling her that the Malgore could be defeated once more, but it would require great sacrifice. She revealed that the pool was imbued with the essence of purity and could cleanse the darkness from Seraphina’s soul. However, to defeat the Malgore, Seraphina would have to fully embrace her monstrous form, using the creature’s own power against it.

Torn between her desire to reclaim her humanity and the need to save her kingdom, Seraphina made her decision. Instead of immersing herself in the pool, she devised a daring plan. Using her monstrous strength, she shattered the crystal-clear water pool, gathering the shimmering liquid into a vessel of living flesh. She focused her will, channeling the water’s purifying essence into a single, concentrated form. The water glowed with an intense light, slowly crystallizing into a radiant pink gem that pulsed with a powerful energy.

With the pink crystal in hand, Seraphina felt a surge of strength like never before. She marched back to the heart of the Malgore’s lair, her monstrous form now exuding an aura of both light and darkness. As she approached the creature, her mind began to cloud, invaded by seductive whispers and dark desires. The power of the crystal was immense, but it came at a cost. Sensual urges and a will for destruction and domination began to grip her thoughts.

Days later, in the titanic battle that followed, Seraphina wielded the crystal’s power with ruthless efficiency. Each strike was infused with the dual forces of purification and corruption, weakening the Malgore with pure light force while feeding off its dark essence. The clash shook the very foundations of the cavern, a tempest of light and shadow.

Finally, with a cry that echoed through the ages, she plunged the pink crystal into the heart of the beast. A torrent of light and darkness erupted, engulfing the Malgore and obliterating it completely. As the dust settled, Seraphina stood victorious, the pink crystal now glowing with a darker, more sinister hue.

The victory, however, came at a profound cost. The queen’s transformation was irreversible, her body forever altered into a monstrous form. Moreover, the crystal's corrupting influence began to take hold of her mind more fiercely. Sensual desires and a thirst for power and domination seeped into her thoughts, reshaping her very essence.

Returning to Elaria, Seraphina was met with a mixture of fear and awe. Her people, initially horrified by her appearance, soon recognized their queen, but they also sensed the change within her. The once benevolent ruler now exuded an aura of dark charisma, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of intelligence and seductive malevolence.

Some among her people, brave and defiant, attempted to resist her new reign. They gathered in secret, plotting to overthrow the queen they no longer recognized. Armed with courage and desperation, they confronted Seraphina, hoping to reclaim their beloved kingdom.

But Seraphina was too strong, her power and cunning far beyond their reckoning. The organic armor that encased her body shifted and adapted, effortlessly deflecting their attacks. Her movements were swift and precise, a deadly dance that left no room for error. She anticipated their strategies, countering each move with a ruthless efficiency.

One by one, the rebels fell before her, their efforts futile against her overwhelming might. As they lay defeated, Seraphina stood tall, her presence both mesmerizing and terrifying. She looked down upon them with a mix of pity and disdain, her dark charisma casting a spell over those who remained.

"You cannot hope to stand against me," she declared, her voice a seductive whisper that echoed through the silent streets. "I am your queen, reborn in power and desire. Embrace the new order, or be crushed beneath it."

With her words, the last flicker of rebellion was extinguished. Elaria's people, now fully subdued, could do nothing but bow to their queen, their spirits broken and their hearts captivated by her dark allure. Seraphina's reign of sensual dominance and unyielding strength had begun, and there was no force in Elaria strong enough to challenge her.

Under her rule, Elaria entered a new era, one marked by an iron fist and unyielding dominance. The tale of Queen Seraphina, the Monster Queen, became a dark legend, a story of both terrifying power and unrelenting desire. She led her kingdom with unmatched strength and cunning, her monstrous form and her constant desire to mentally and physically dominate her subordinates, a constant reminder of the darkness she had embraced and now drove her.

Seraphina enslaved all who opposed her, forcing them to fulfill her endless sensual and carnal needs. Her once noble court was transformed into a den of debauchery, where her subjects lived in constant fear and servitude. The Valkyries, once her loyal and noble guard, were now her enslaved warriors, bound to her will and compelled to carry out her every command.

Her kingdom, while thriving under the enforced order, was a twisted shadow of its former self. The sunlit days of Elaria now bore witness to the queen's dark reign, where her subjects' loyalty was ensured through the manipulation of their very wills. Using her dark magical powers, Seraphina cast enchantments that bent the minds of her people to her desires, ensuring unwavering obedience and adoration. These same dark powers were used to augment the strength of her new Valkyrie warriors, transforming them into formidable enforcers of her will. Their enhanced abilities made them nearly invincible, their loyalty to Seraphina absolute and unbreakable. The land prospered, but its people were broken, their spirits crushed under the weight of Seraphina's insidious rule.

Yet, her hunger for power and control was unquenchable. With Elaria firmly under her grasp, Seraphina turned her attention to the sacred kingdoms that had yet to fall before her armies of Valkyrie slaves. She envisioned an empire where her rule was absolute, where her sensual and constant needs were met by countless more subjects.

Her once benevolent gaze now gleamed with ambition and lust as she plotted her conquests. The sacred kingdoms, known for their ancient magic and unyielding resistance, became her next targets. She would send her enslaved Valkyries, now ruthless and efficient enforcers of her will, to lay siege to these lands.

Under her dark banner, the armies marched, spreading fear and domination across the realm. Each conquered kingdom added to her power, each fallen warrior another slave to her insatiable desires. Seraphina's reign of terror grew, her influence spreading like a shadow over the world…

...The end ?

I wanted to try a new exercise, writing a short story and using artificial intelligence to help me illustrate it. It took me a while, but I'm happy with the result… What do you think? Did you like it ?

[desmon1995]

The Wonder Wheel of Nostalgia : How the Warriors navigate the past to point us to a better future.

In the realm of iconic, rough-and-tumble portrayals of New York’s late '70s and early '80s gang culture, The Warriors stands as a time capsule. Everything from its hyper-masculinity, intense action, and Marvel-comic-inspired costumes embodies the gritty, unfiltered spirit of an era. But as much as we celebrate its slick visuals and electrifying energy, it’s essential to remember where it all began—a book by Sol Yurick, a Marxist author and youth counselor. Yurick’s 1965 novel intended to deliver an unvarnished depiction of gang life, challenging the glamorized portrayals perpetuated by West Side Story. In his hands, the Warriors weren’t lovable antiheroes but violent, unsympathetic young men, shaped and shattered by the harsh reality of their world.

Where the film cut some of the grittier edges, trading raw brutality for pop-culture appeal, the concept album—helmed by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Eisa Davis—reclaims some of Yurick’s original urgency, but with a twist for our times. Here, The Warriors becomes more than a showcase of thrilling gang warfare; it’s a powerful commentary on how beginnings shape not only individuals but entire communities, especially those marginalized and boxed in by systemic forces. There’s a reason why the streets of New York and its gang-ridden alleys serve as an urgent backdrop, not just a setting: The Warriors were not born into violence by choice; they were molded by it.

In Yurick’s original novel, the Warriors were exclusively Latino and Black, a poignant decision that underscored the book’s social message. The novel’s Warriors are not romanticized; they are hard-edged, often cruel, shaped by a world that offers them no other outlet. Unlike in the film, they don't earn sympathy—they embody what it means to be caged by circumstance. Yurick was giving us a third-person view of life in the hood, drawing from his years as a counselor, highlighting how neglected environments breed neglected people. The film adaptation preserved much of this tone, though it softened the edges enough to allow mainstream audiences a measure of comfort, even admiration, for its characters. This Hollywood filtering gave the story a mythic, almost heroic quality that ignored the darker undercurrents and turned the Warriors into icons of cult cinema.

Enter the concept album. When Miranda and Davis announced a reimagining of The Warriors for the 2020s, responses were mixed. There was intrigue, nostalgia, and some backlash from purists who felt that a modern take would inevitably water down the harsh realities of the original. And sure enough, there was debate on social media about whether the adaptation would be “too sanitized”—some fans even wanted the album to keep the raw misogyny and homophobia to convey just how twisted these characters could be. But such demands misunderstand what this concept album achieves: The Warriors isn’t about mindlessly mirroring the past; it’s about examining what that era taught us, and how we can use those lessons to tell a new story that resonates with today’s audience.

In this reimagined musical landscape, we are invited to consider the complexities of systemic oppression in a way that respects the story’s roots yet speaks to the present. Here, the American government and social elites are the true obstacles—the forces that keep the Warriors and others like them trapped in cycles of poverty and violence. Through their collective songs, we hear how the Warriors are more than just a gang; they’re a family, navigating a world that’s rigged against them, offering each other the love and support the system denies them. Found family isn’t just a theme—it’s a survival tactic, a way of enduring when traditional structures fail. Cleon’s leadership and Swan’s resolve aren’t just virtues; they’re necessary, traits honed through hardship, proving that even amidst brokenness, there’s room for loyalty and connection.

This choice is significant. Unlike the book’s purely third-person brutality, the concept album allows the listener a chance to root for the Warriors, not because they’re morally untouchable but because they’re trying to survive and carve out meaning in a society that gives them none. In reworking the story, Miranda and Davis don’t ignore the Warriors’ flaws; they amplify them within a framework that shows how the Warriors’ lives are a reaction to oppression, not just innate lawlessness.

One standout is the reimagined character of Cyrus, who becomes a revolutionary. Her call for gang unity isn’t a misguided attempt to “own the city” but an idealistic stand against the power structures that have confined the Warriors and everyone like them. Her assassination is a symbolic echo of history, a reminder that every leader who dares to challenge the system is met with the same tragic end. It’s an allusion to the untimely deaths of revolutionary figures, from Elijah Parish Lovejoy to Fred Hampton ., grounding The Warriors in the rich yet tragic lineage of resistance. Even without the visuals, the stakes feel visceral; the cops aren’t there to “keep the peace” but to maintain the status quo, allowing the powerful to exploit the disenfranchised. And though the Warriors are flawed and sometimes brutal, they are humanized through each other—an echo of community in the face of unrelenting hardship.

Interestingly, the album doesn’t downplay the violence. It doesn’t gloss over the fact that the Warriors are engaged in brutal battles with both rival gangs and a hostile police force. The danger is real, palpable. For every moment of hope, there’s a reality check, a reminder that survival isn’t guaranteed. The album explores a grimmer, more complicated version of optimism, one rooted in a will to endure rather than naive hope. After all, cynicism is a luxury these characters can’t afford.

And while some may argue that Miranda and Davis’s interpretation is “liberal idealism,” it’s worth noting that revolutionary spirits rarely fade; they adapt, especially in times of political division and systemic failure. In today’s world, where socioeconomic divides and racial profiling still dominate headlines, The Warriors holds a mirror to the past and present. It asks us to consider the cumulative impact of systemic neglect and discrimination, reminding us that what society normalizes shapes public perception.

This retelling of The Warriors also raises another question: how do we balance nostalgia with progress? How do we celebrate iconic works of the past while acknowledging the problematic undertones they might carry? Media analysis is more intense now, partly because we’ve come to understand that popular culture doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it shapes, reinforces, and sometimes even distorts public opinion. By exploring the lives of female and queer characters in the Warriors’ ranks, Miranda and Davis tap into perspectives that the original iterations ignored. Their take isn’t an erasure; it’s an addition—a recognition that marginalized communities deserve the full spectrum of representation, from hardship to humanity.

There’s no denying that the concept album will challenge some fans, especially those who are attached to the original for its raw energy. But change isn’t inherently a loss. Instead, it’s an opportunity to rediscover something meaningful. Like a sleeper hit that finds its audience slowly, the album may build momentum over the years, perhaps reaching listeners who weren’t even born when the film came out. And maybe that’s the point: allowing this story to evolve naturally, allowing new generations to find their own meanings within its timeless yet timely themes.

By giving The Warriors new voices, this concept album doesn’t rewrite history; it contextualizes it, bringing new life to a story that speaks volumes about who we are, where we’ve been, and where we still have to go. And in a world where representation is power, this story feels like a necessary continuation, rather than a nostalgic return.

[mrk236547789]

**mpreg (male pregnancy)** birth story for you:

---

# The Enchanted Blossom's Gift

Once upon a time, in the mystical land of Eldoria, there existed a rare and magical creature known as the "Blossombearer." These ethereal beings were neither fully male nor female but embodied the essence of both. Their bodies could carry life in a way that defied the norms of nature.

Our tale begins with Eirik, a young Blossombearer who lived deep within the Whispering Woods. Eirik's belly swelled with the promise of new life—a secret he guarded fiercely. His partner, Lysander, a gentle forest sprite, fluttered around him, tending to the delicate blossoms that adorned Eirik's skin.

The Blossombearer's pregnancy was no ordinary affair. Instead of a traditional womb, Eirik's abdomen held a luminous bud—an otherworldly vessel where life took root. The bud pulsed with iridescent light, casting a soft glow on the forest floor.

As the days passed, Eirik's cravings grew stranger. He longed for moonbeam honey and stardust-infused berries. Lysander dutifully gathered these celestial treats, whispering sweet promises to the unborn child within.

One moonlit night, Eirik's bud began to bloom. Petals unfurled, revealing a tiny creature—a blend of human and woodland magic. Its eyes sparkled like dew-kissed leaves, and its skin shimmered with opalescent hues. Lysander wept with joy, cradling their child against his chest.

But the birth was not without challenges. Eldoria's ancient laws forbade male pregnancy, and jealous eyes watched from the shadows. The Moon Sorceress, Selene, coveted the Blossombearer's gift. She believed it held the key to eternal life.

Selene's dark magic seeped into the Whispering Woods, twisting the very roots that sustained Eirik's bud. The pain intensified, and Eirik's breaths came in ragged gasps. Lysander pleaded with the forest spirits for aid.

The eldest Dryad, Elowen, appeared—a gnarled oak with eyes like starlight. She whispered ancient incantations, weaving protective spells around Eirik. The birthing chamber glowed with Elowen's magic, shielding the fragile life within.

And then, with a final surge of power, Eirik pushed. The bud burst open, releasing a wailing infant—a boy with translucent wings and petals for hair. Lysander named him Orion, after the constellation that watched over their love.

As dawn painted the sky, Eirik cradled Orion in his arms. The Blossombearer's sacrifice had birthed not only a child but also hope. Selene's curse shattered, and the Whispering Woods rejoiced. Flowers bloomed, and birds sang songs of wonder.

Eirik and Lysander raised Orion beneath the ancient boughs, teaching him the secrets of both worlds. The boy's laughter echoed through Eldoria, a melody that healed wounded hearts. And whenever the moon waxed full, Orion would touch his father's belly, feeling the dormant bud stir with magic.

For in the land of Blossombearers, love transcended boundaries. And as Eirik and Lysander watched their son dance among fireflies, they knew that miracles bloomed even in the unlikeliest of places.

And so, dear reader, if you ever wander into the Whispering Woods, listen closely. You might hear the soft rustle of petals—the echo of a love story that defied fate and birthed magic anew.

---

*Note: This tale is purely fictional and meant for entertainment. In reality, male pregnancy remains an imaginative concept, but in the realm of fantasy, anything is possible.* 🌸🌿✨