#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.

#lore #worldbuilding #writing #shattered realms twisted reality #goblin #thoxa lore #vtuber lore #original writing

[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?

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #asks

[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…

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #Astarion #ascended astarion #astarion x tav #ascended astarion x tav #tw.dark content #tw.noncon #dark content #tw noncon #bg3 smut

[heartfullofleeches]

Yandere Demon x GN! Reader

Word count 2.3k 

Warning for swearing 

Needless to say, your new roommate was a pain in the neck. Less of a roommate and more of a demon waiting for the moment it can calm your soul, to be precise – but wasn’t much of a difference. A friend of yours had an interest in the dark arts. A bit too much of an interest; seeing as they showed up on your doorstep one day with a dusty, old book and babbling about how it could summon creatures of the damned and unknown. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the courage to try any of the spells on their on; which is why they called upon you to try it out. 

You were skeptical, as most people would be, but the second your drop of blood hit your bedroom floor your expectations were shattered. The surface spilt in two as if the droplet were the hand of Moses; cries of the wicked fleeing the chasm like sirens although far from harmonious. An ebony skeleton reached through, gripping at your rub; flesh and muscle forming over its bones as it crawled outward. It had two sets of jaws; one where a mouth would normally be and the other diagonal down its face between where it’s eyes would be down to where its normal one was. Four, eyeless sockets fall on you; dual irises that filled each space studying your small frame. 

The creature would stand to full height; inches from scraping your ceiling. Horns hindered its moving space further; two twisting masses that arched backwards against its skull. Swirls and other patterns covered its pinkish skin. Transform near complete; it lets out a loud screech – the flesh of its face creeping over its blackened tongue and sharp teeth. It brings two talons to its chin, cracking its neck to an ninety degree angle before it falls back in place. Despite its lack of lips, its chest exhales; finally finding words to speak. 

“Ah… It’s been so long since I’ve been to the mortal realm..” It chuckles darkly as it turns to you. You had been sitting in the corner the whole time, trying not to fall into the now closed hole in your floor.

“And who might you be?....”

You remain silent. 

“At a lost for words? I don’t blame you. Most people tend to doubt my existence, even when they summon me. Let’s not delay this encounter longer than we have to.”

It leans forward, offering a hand as its cheeks stretched in what you imagine to be a smile.

“Worry not, human. I shall lay you no harm, until the day of your demise. Upon death, your soul will be mine, but until then my power is yours. What is your first order, master?” 

You stare at his hand. “…. Leave.”

“As you wi- wait, excuse me?”

“Can you just – leave? Like you said I didn’t expect this to work and I’m not even the one who wanted to see if you were real in the first place.”

“You’re telling me, you used an ancient book of knowledge to summon me.”

“Yes…”

“And that you don’t want me here.” 

“Yes.”

“And the thought of unlimited wealth or power is meaningless to you?”

“Yes?.... Can you go now?”

No.”

-

Two weeks had passed since them. The demon tried everything to get you to use his power in any way  from offering things mankind should never witness, to hiding your household items in hopes you’d ask for his assistance. He couldn’t deny that you were interesting, but your dismissal was like a slap in the face to him. He’d swore to make you acknowledge him eventually and in a way that day did come. 

You had just come home from work; tired to all heck and aching for rest. Before you could get some much needed sleep, you had to fill your stomach first. You hadn’t gone grocery shopping and it was too late to order, so you’d just have to scrounge up whatever you could find. As you walked into the kitchen, you smelt something pleasant – like a mirage your overworked brain had conjured. One that blended with reality the further you entered the room. 

Resting on the table was a plate of your favorite food; heat radiating as if it had just came out fresh. You eye it cautiously; known that demon was up to something- but you were too hungry to care. You take your seat and pick up the utensil; taking a bite. As if you had just opened the portal to hell once more, the demon appeared at the other end of your table.

“I see you’ve eaten the meal I made for you. If you just used my power, you could have a personal chef making finer meals for you every-"

“It’s good.”

“..Pardon?”

“You said you made this right? Like, no demon magic involved?”

“Well, of course. I’ve been a servant for mortals in the past and had to learn how to care for your kind – such as the ways of culinary arts.” 

“It’s not bad, good job. Make sure you clean up before you leave though.” 

The demon is at a lost for words. At this point he was loosing hope in gaining your attention, and he finally had it though briefly. Goosebumps raised his tuff skin. Why did it feel so different getting praise from you, and over something so small at that? He watches you eat your meal till you had your fill; one pair of eyes pointed at the silver passing your lips. He picks it up once you leave for bed, picking at the remains of your food. He takes a bite himself. It was good, as you stated. He knew it would be, but the utensil stayed at the roof of his mouth longer than needed not for the flavor.

After that day, he began doing more household chores for your favor. Cleaning, waking you up on time for work – even mending tears in your old clothes. The rules of the contract between you two required a verbal order from you for it to be pact, but he did all without asking no longer just to fulfill his role. The slouch in his back would straight for a while whenever you begrudgingly ate the food he made or took a clean shirt from his hands; standing tall with pride. He began following you when you left home too, claiming due to the contract he couldn’t be far. Fortunately, he was able to make himself invisible to others, but a seven foot tall demon in the corner of the room wasn’t the most pleasant thing to great customers in front of.

He made his affections known for you at the stroke of midnight one cool summer night; whispering words of loyalty to you while he thought you were asleep. 

All of this led to where you where today; sitting on your couch across from your bewildered friend as your oversized hound peeled fruit behind you with his talons. They watch in fearful awe as he hummed away, breaking the fruit off into pieces for you to eat. His large hands reach over the back of the couch to offer it to you; palm big enough to crush your head like a grape if he so pleased. 

“Open wide, Y/n~ Every human likes apples and they’re good for you.”

“..I’m good.”

He lets out a creaky whine. “But I’m not making dinner for another two hours and I want to make sure you’ll be fine until then.”

You look over at your friend. “You seen what I’ve had to deal with for the past three months?”

The demon takes your lack of a response as an ultimate refusal. Disheartened, he opens his mouth; the skin covering his teeth tearing open as his jaw unhinged. Two lines of flesh remained intact on either side of his lips, giving him the appearance of having three mouths. He shovels the entire fruit down his throat without evening chewing; remaining complete eye contact with your friend the entire time. He pulls the core from his mouth with a grin.

“I- uh…I.” They stammered; too afraid of the glare they were beneath to speak – going pale as the demon runs his tongue over his jagged teeth. Of course they didn’t think believe you when you called them over to deal with the demon you summoned, but now that they were here they were seconds away from shitting bricks. The air had been hostile from the second they stepped foot in your home. Your demon guard didn’t take too kindly to guests. Though they’d never mention it publicly, they were sure he even growled at them while you were in the bathroom. 

“Anyway.. I need your help to get rid of it.”

They freeze, eyes carefully shifting up to the demon. How could you be so bold right in front of him? He flinched. His eyes narrowed; hatred burning yet none of it directed towards you. His expression softens in an instance; followed by another displeased noise as he speaks.

“Baron. My name is Baron, Y/n. And stop talking about getting rid of me. I haven’t tried to take your soul in weeks.”

More of a recent feat, he had started going by the name Baron. He tried to get you to get him to give him one, but you refused. Good thing too, since it would only make your bond stronger.

“I’ll call you whatever I want.”

He perks up. “Does that mean you’ll give me a name?” 

“…Moving on. Do you think you can help?”

“What happened to the book?”

“Got burnt up when I summoned him.” You point at the charred booklet on the table, wilted pages barely held together by its leather. There even seemed to be a few claw marks in it. Baron looks away.

“I.. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank God..” You relax as if a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders. The conversation doesn’t last much longer after that. You lead them to the door, Baron standing post behind the couch. You pull them into a hug, to their surprise. 

“Thanks again. It’ll be nice to spend some time with you again.”

They slowly wrap their arms around you, blush tinting their face. “Yeah…”

What could have been a calm moment between friends becomes a horror filled nightmare for one as they look over your shoulder. Drilling rage in the form of a medusa like stare; freezing them into place. If looks could kill, your friend would be dead for several lifetimes. Baron lifts the core of the apple, crushing it to pulp in his hand. He licks its juices off his hand before pulling his digits into a shushing motion. They suddenly gain use of their legs again and run off.

You return to the couch, plopping down on it with a sigh. Baron continues to stare at the door, dark aura surrounding him. He suddenly snaps his head back to you, bubbly as can be.

“Hey, Y/n? Can we watch more of that show you were watching last night? I made sure to pause it after you fell asleep!”

-

The entire ride home your friend felt like something was watching them. In a state of paranoia, they had to make sure the front door was locked four times. In the confines of their room, they allow themself to relax slightly. They crawl under the blankets, cocooning within them in a need for safety. After a while, the comfort melts away. They couldn’t get over the feeling that something was watching, and – they were right. 

In the corner of their room, Baron stood in silence, eyes glowing in the dark. Their ceiling was lower than yours; giving him an even taller silhouette and making the room feel small. They couldn’t even bring themself to scream; a frightened whimper escaping their throat.

“W...what are you doing here?”

“Do you take me for a cuck?”

“Wha…?”

“I said….” He steps forward, the diagonal mouth on his face visible and baring teeth with a growl. His voice stays low, teetering on aggressive. “Do you think I’m a fucking cuck?”

“N-no… I don’t.”

“Then why the fuck are you trying to steal my mate?!” He slams his hands on the bed frame with an emphasis on the word “fuck", drawing another yelp from your friend.

“I don’t like them like that! I…. I thought you couldn’t be away from them!”

“That was just a lie I told them so we wouldn’t be apart. They’re mine.”

“Ok.. ok. Please just… don’t hurt me.”

Baron chuckles. “You’re pathetic. If you had been my master I would have rung your neck on the first day.”

In an act of rebellion, your friend speaks up. “Why do you even want them so badly in the first place.” 

“With age comes different needs. They’re that need I’ve awaited to quench for thousands of years. Stay away from Y/n or I swear I’ll drag you to hell by your tongue.”

Baron slips back into the darkness, leaving them shaking in fear for their life.

-

“Huh… Not answering again.”

You set your phone on the table, ending the call before voice-mail message could play; knowing it was already full. You were on the couch once more; trapped to the cushions by Baron. His head rested on your lap, horns against you chest and legs dangling off the side; trying not to pull all his weight on you. You reluctantly let him stay there due to said weight. You had been trying to call your friend for the past few days with no luck, even showing up to their vacant home when you began to worry.

Baron opens both left eyes. “Maybe they’re on vacation. Or got eaten by a bear. Who knows, who cares.”

“Did you have something to do with this?”

He gasps. “Y/n, I am offended…. But if you order me to answer, then I’ll have no choice but to.”

#yandere male #male yandere #yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere story #yandere insert #tw yandere #yandere scenario #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #yandere monster #yandere demon #yandere works #yandere writing #x reader #reader insert #yandere requests #tw: swearing #demon yandere #demon x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend

[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✦ 」

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #twst reader #twst x y/n #twst x you #twst x mc #twst #reader insert #disney twst #twst wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #idia shroud #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #twst jamil #twst idia #twst riddle #twst azul #twst leona #twst malleus

[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.

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhump day 4 #torture tw #blood tw #injury tw #mild body horror #angst #whump #trin writes #pre-lu #loz #twilight princess #midlink #I love the lakebed temple cutscene SO MUCH #and on my recent replay thought #‘hey what if link got tortured like midna was?’ #had a bunch of dark magic poured into him instead of light #and lo and behold this came out

[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.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x you #astarion fic #astarion romance

[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

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fiction #lhh #smut #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry angst #harry styles one shot #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanart #harry imagines #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfic rec #harry au #harry styles au #harry styles masterlist #harry blurb #oneshot #one direction #LLH #lhh supremacy #Wattpad #harry imagine

[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 ?

#ai babe #ai beauty #ai girl #ai waifu #ai #ai art #ai artwork #ai image #ai art generator #ai art discussion #stable diffusion #sd #ssd #sexy stable diffusion #Tale #Narrative #Chronicle #Saga #Fable #Legend #Myth #Writer #Novelist #Storyteller #fairy tales #Seraphina #Seraphina's story #story

[rushtoprove]

a princess and her secrets

summary: the arrival of the realm's fiercest swordsman creates a scandal when it turns out to be a mere woman. the princess helaena, finds herself playing with some very dangerous thoughts.

chapter 1: not a very warm welcome helaena desperately hopes no one notices the way she can't take her eyes off the new general.

words: 3635

warnings: sexual references

masterlist

Helaena was well aware that those around her assumed she was weak. Her kindness was often mistaken as her being nothing more than a fragile girl. Her mother often stared at her in sympathy, pitying the naivety of her only daughter. Her dear husband Aegon has always made it clear that the only emotion he held for his dull wife was disgust, and Aemond often treated her as something that could easily shatter into a million pieces.  

It made her want to scream. 

 She often fantasised about standing up and destroying everything that decorated the grand table at which her family sat for dinner. She would relish in the sound of the glass shattering, and hearing the gasps of shock would further fuel her rage. Aemond would reach out to calm her but she would shake him off and begin screaming. Perhaps she would put a knife up to her husband’s throat and threaten him to enjoy his last breath before she let herself be coated in his crimson blood. Her mother would cower at the curses her daughter would send her way, unforgiving to the way she sold her to Aegon knowing full well the horror’s he inflicts for entertainment. She would pick up her twins, her dearest children, and she would mount Dreamfyre and fly as far as she could.  

“Are you ready yet?” Aegon yawned from the edge of the bed as his wife stared at herself in the reflection of her mirror. She moved her gaze to take in her husband, and shivered in disgust.  

“Yes. I am ready.” Her voice was sickly sweet and she smiled at her brother. All the years spent training to be the perfect wife, the perfect pet, just to obey this miserable creature. Aegon took pleasure in treating his wife awfully. She often spent her nights abandoned in her room as he sought pleasure elsewhere in the city. She loved the arrangement; she could not lie about that.  

Helaena had spent her whole life trying to master the art of hiding her true emotions but now she found it hard to feel anything at all. She was numb. She spent her days flinching away from everyone’s touch, and instead sat in corners trying to understand this disarray inside her mind. She felt she was constantly falling in and out of reality, nothing felt real. 

“Well hurry up.” Aegon moaned as he made his way to exit the room. His mother had forced him to collect his wife from her room as she did not wish for the court to find out the young couple sleep separately. It was, however, already well known by all. Helaena took one final look at herself before following her husband emotionlessly. The servants bowed as they passed, and the young princess pretending to not notice the way Aegon winked and smirked at all the young maids. She wished nothing more than to tear him apart then and there. 

“Brother. Sister.” Aemond stood straight at the entrance to the dining room and he quickly stood beside Helaena and moved to hold her lightly, as if she could fall any second. Aemond was never one to dress up, so looking at his formal attire let the married couple know this was not to be a closed family dinner. 

“You are dressed up.” Helaena hummed and laughed softly as Aemond rolled his eye.  

“Mother told me the news. We have guests from the war in the Stepstones. Generals and shit. Did she not mention?” He looking judgingly at Aegon who gave of the appearance of someone who had spent his last week drunk and sleepless every night, which he had. 

“Aw you’re dressing up to impress the little war lords. You want to go and swing your little sword with them, don’t you?” Aegon was condescending and went to pinch his young brother’s face but Aemond moved fast, twisting his arm behind his back and making him howl in pain. 

“Look away sister.” He growled. Helaena turned, but only so no one could see her roll her eyes. She was but twenty years old, the youngest of the three, and she often felt too mature to be around such children. 

“Why would they be here?” She asked about the awaiting guests. 

“They need more help. More funds from the crown.” Aemond grunted as Aegon tried to swing his remaining arm. The impact was weak and did nothing to stop the hold his brother had on him. 

“Boys! Why are you like this!?” Alicent came rushing down the stairs, their frail father wobbling behind her. The two instantly split apart and stood tall as if to hide that anything had happened. Their mother rushed straight to Helaena and brushed the stray hair that had fallen behind her ear. 

“Are you alright my princess?” Her daughter wanted to scream. She was not the one in a headlock; why would she need to be cared for? 

“Very well mother.” Her reply was feeble making Alicent sigh. Nothing more was said as the family lined up to enter the dining hall. Her grandfather Otto Hightower, moved to stand behind her father and gave a smirk to his little granddaughter. He was a cruel man, but never with Helaena.  

“These guests have won many battles my children. Youn must show them great respect.” King Viserys spoke out, looking at Aegon directly. The two boys bowed at their father’s words, and Helaena wordlessly curtsied and stared ahead. She was already dreading having to spend her night amongst men pridefully telling tales of the men they had slain in battle.  

“Apparently there is a new general. From House Arryn. They say he is the most skilled warrior this realm will ever see. The war was failing until he arrived and they have won every battle since. Masterful plans and skilled with a sword. An asset if we all play our cards right.” Otto muttered to his family as the King began to discuss other matters with the guard. 

“An Arryn! Why would we need such a useless house on our side!” Aegon snorted. Everyone simply stared at him. 

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Otto talked to him as he was trying to talk to a child, making Aegon burn red with embarrassment.  

“Helaena, my sweet child, we have seated you next to him. You simply be your kind self and we are sure he will befriend you. They say he has a very kind heart. The folk that he leads into battle love and respect him greatly. We have no doubt you two will get along.” It took everything in Helaena not to groan. She was hoping to hide between her brother’s and let them entertain the noblemen, but now she would have to fake her blushes and giggle at every stupid comment this lord would surely make. 

“Whatever you require from me.” She quietly dipped her head so that her hair hid her discontent.  

“I shall sit beside her. I do not wish this lord to discuss anything grotesque with my dearest sister.” Aemond’s voice was commanding and it was often something Helaena craved to learn. No one argued with him. 

“I guess I shall go and fuck myself then.” Aegon fake smiled before turning his eyes forward in mock boredom.  

“Behave yourself tonight Aegon. Please.” His mother begged but there was no chance for a reply. The doors swung open as it was announced the royal family were about to enter. They had to wait as each name and title was read out, and every time Helaena thought she could die of shame. It seemed to be an endless jumble of words she had to wait for but they were finally allowed to move into the room. They were instantly swarmed by the lords bowing and every one took turns to kiss the young princess’s hand. It was a battle to get to her seat and her throat caught as she saw her family being swept in the opposite direction. It was overwhelming to have each man come forward and introduce themselves. Whispering lowly how fair she was. How beautiful she had grown. She remembers Lord Corlys Velaryon from his daughter’s funeral many years ago, and was relieved when he kindly pushed a path for her so she could find her seat.  

“I believe you will be seated with me dear friend General Jamie Arryn. I am certain you shall get along well.” He smiled kindly at the princess as they made it to her seat. 

“I am very excited to meet him.” She lied through her teeth and thought herself caught when he let out a loud laugh.  

“Perhaps we should begin writing ahead to warn that the general they plan to dine with is a woman every time we plan these things?” Helaena looked shocked as a sweet voice chuckled in her ear. She felt a hand on her back to guide her forward as her chair was pulled out. Let her gaze follow up the arm, Helaena’s heart stopped. A woman, with midnight black hair pulled up into a tight ponytail stood smirking at the young princess. Her tight leather pants had a dagger strapped to her thigh and was accompanied by her black corset and loosely fitting black silk undershirt. She had never seen a woman so proudly dressed in man’s clothes.  

“Who are you?” Helaena sounded out of breath, and perhaps it was because she found it impossible to breathe.  

“I am Jamie Arryn. I believe I am to be your dinner partner tonight.” She bowed like a man and Helaena could not help her eyes widen in shock. She looked desperately towards her family to see their face held the exact same shock. 

“The finest general I’ve ever met.” Corlys boasted proudly and Helaena was astonished to see many men in the room nod in agreement. She had not seen any woman respected the way they did her. 

“Oh hush. Let us feast.” Jamie laughed as she moved to her chair. A servant tried to run up to move her seat for her but was ushered away and she instead dropped into the chair with a smile. Helaena seemed unable to move and knew she must have looked stupid simply standing with her mouth hanging.  

“Sit Princess. I promise I do not bite.” Helaena tried hard not to look at Jamie as she took her seat but she could tell the general thought the whole situation quite humorous. She let out a laugh with Corlys who was seated beside her and Helaena looked at Aemond, startled, as he rigidly took to his seat beside his sister. The whole table was silent as the royal family took in Jamie Arryn, scandalized at the sight of a woman sitting amongst these men of war so freely.  

“You shall not talk to her. I do not want her to corrupt you my little honey sister.” Aemond spoke lowly to Helaena, who nodded dumbly in response.  

“What... What a surprise.” Viserys was also shocked having not been informed his most promising general in the realm was a woman. 

“We always seem to forget to mention Jamie is a woman.” Corlys explained with a grin and some of the men slapped their forehead before barking out laughs. Jamie quietly shushed them and quickly bowed her head to the King. 

“I am just a humble woman at your service, my King.” It seemed a personal joke given the way everyone but the noble Targaryen family snickered. Alicent shifted uncomfortably in her seat before sending her signature sympathetic gaze to her daughter.  

The tension went nowhere for Helaena and her family as the men of war made their toasts. She didn’t understand why, but she was desperate to hear General Jamie make her own. She didn’t understand the craving she had to hear her voice again. The General, however, simply sipped her wine and laughed at the jokes. The young princess was struck by her presence and could not help herself from staring from beneath her eyelashes. When Jamie turned and smiled at her, Helaena quickly gasped and looked down at her plate. She felt caught. 

“They say you are a fine swordsman, Lady Jamie. The finest the realm has seen.” Aemond lent over his sister to stare curiously at the woman and made sure Helaena would find it impossible to join this conversation. Instead, she had to shift uncomfortably in her seat so that her brother was not lounging on her. 

“Do they now?” Lady Jamie looked at her brother and refused to break eye contact. Helaena was surprised when Aemond looked away first. 

“It is... uncommon. For your sex, that is.” Aemond was trying to delicately put it, but Helaena wanted to die over how condescending it sounded.  

“Perhaps it is because the men of this realm do not offer the chance for a woman to learn.” She leaned back in her chair, placing one elbow on the table and turning to directly face the two siblings. Helaena prayed to the seven that no one noticed how tightly she squeezed her thighs. The general looked so powerful standing up to Aemond so casually and the princess was infatuated.  

This was Helaena’s deepest secret. She could tell no one of her desires or her attractions. She could not share that her first kiss had been with the kitchen maid beneath one of the castles tunnels when she was ten and five. Nor could she confide that she had never once felt any appeal to a man in her entire life. Helaena knew that no one, especially not her family would understand. Instead, she simply bowed her head and told everyone she loved her husband very much. 

“I... I guess?” Aemond had never been this lost for words. Lady Jamie simply smiled as if she had this conversation before. 

“I fear if you lean over your sister any more, she shall suffocate.” Aemond threw himself back without realizing and Helaena swallowed harshly. She did not remember a time anyone had paid attention to her suffering, no matter how small. She watched closely as Jamie gave a slight nod to the Lord who sat beside Aemond, and the nod he gave back to her. Aemond was oblivious to the interaction, still trying to compose himself.  

“Prince Aemond, is it true you ride the largest dragon in the world?” The man beside Aemond acted shocked, and the prince, like all men, loved nothing more than to gloat. His attention was easily captured and he was happy to boast of his mighty dragon, leaving Helaena awkwardly trying not to look at the woman who was still turned to face her. She fought so hard but lost the battle and turned to look at Jamie, who was still casually lounging with her drink in hand. This time she had a smirk on her lips and Helaena rapidly tried to look anywhere else. She could not want. She needed to forget this silly little need. Helaena was a married woman. 

“I’m sorry if my company makes you uncomfortable. I do try and get Corlys to tell people what to expect.” Taking another sip of wine, Lady Jamie finally leaned away from Helaena and instead began to observe the feast around her. Helaena should have allowed it, but the thought of the general moving her attention elsewhere had the princess’s heart still. 

“It is... I... My name is Helaena.” She blurted it out before envisioning herself smashing her head on the table. Of course, that fact was already known. She was such a fucking idiot. 

“Well, my name is Jamie.” She gently clasped Helaena’s fingers and slowly lifted them to her lips. The two women did not break eye contact as it happened. 

“That’s a boy's name.” The princess blurted out making Jamie chuckle. 

“Yes, my father was desperate for a son but instead he got me. I think he thought if he name me a man, and train me as a man, I would become the son he always wanted.” The princess looked curiously at Jamie. 

“And do you think yourself a man?” 

“No.” She was firm with her answer. “I am a woman, and I’m better than any and all of these men at swordsmanship and battle plans. I try not to let them forget that.” 

“I am a woman.” Helaena could not think straight and knew she must have sounded simple. Jamie turned to her with a raised eyebrow, then grinned and skulled the rest of her wine. 

“And what a woman you are.” Helaena doesn’t know if she imagined the way the general’s eyes raked over her boy, but her body flushed all the same. When Jamie stood from her seat, Helaena’s heart dropped. Of course, her stupid conversation was not enough to keep this powerful woman enthralled and Helaena was a fool to think otherwise. 

“Will you show me the gardens Princess Helaena? I hear they are a sight to behold.” The way her name sounded on Jamie’s lips made Helaena want to burst. She was embarrassed how overcome with need she was to be near this woman. How desperate everyone would think if they found out. 

“Yes! Of course.” Helaena cursed herself for standing so quickly, but the moment Jamie ran her fingers down the princess’s arm as she linked herself to her, the embarrassment was gone. Instead, Helaena found herself yet again at a loss for words. She must look to be an absolute idiot. She let Jamie guide her towards the door, and from each twist and turn that happened, it was obvious the general had already been to the gardens. Helaena looked at her suspiciously making Jamie roll her eyes and her closer. 

“I know I lied; it was just so boring in there. I needed some fresh air.” 

“I don’t mind. I like fresh air too. The conversation is always so dull.” Helaena instantly squeezed her eyes shut. She should not have criticised such noblemen, she knew better than that. 

“So very dull. I swear they like the sound of their own voice.” The two-woman grinned at each other as they finally made it to the gardens. Jamie went to pull her towards the main area, but Helaena quickly ushered her a different way. Taking the lead, they ended up sitting on a stone bench behind a large hedge, shielding them from view. Helaena felt giddy at the idea that no guards had followed, nor had her family noticed her absence.  

“I like to come and read here. It is more secluded than the main garden.” Helaena felt as if she needed to explain, but Jamie understood perfectly. 

“I’m sure you crave your privacy. I cannot imagine a princess would get much.”  

“No not much. Only when I read or when I am alone in my chambers. It’s very precious time to me.”  

“I do not crave your position. I think I would find it awfully dreadful.” Jamie looked to Helaena as if she was listening intently to every word and Helaena was constantly blushing under her gaze. 

“It is... sometimes. But I get to go to many dances. I love dancing” Helaena tried not to get too excited and Jaime simply faked discomfort. 

“Ah unfortunately I was not taught how to dance. I was only trained. I find it impossible to step to the beat at the right time.” 

“I could teach you! I am very good at it.” Helaena bit her lip as the suggestion rolled of her tongue and Jamie looked amused. She could not take her eyes from the princess’s lip.  

“I would be happy to dance with you Princess. But you must be patient with me I will have a lot to learn.” Their gaze at one another lit up Helaena’s entire body. Unbeknownst to her, Jamie was overwhelmed by the same need.  

“Perhaps, tomorrow?” Helaena whispered, scared that this was just to be nice and actually setting the plan in stone would simply end in a kind rejection. 

“Tomorrow.” It was agreed.  

“SISTER!?” Aemond’s voice cut through the night making Helaena jump, as if she was a child caught doing something wrong. She quickly stood and moved forward but her shoe got trapped between a tree root and she felt herself stumble forward without it. Jamie quickly dropped to her knees and pulled the pale-yellow shoe from its tight trap.  

“Thank you.” Helaena squeaked. Jamie simply swallowed before reaching forward. Kneeling before the princess, she lifted the leg that the shoe was for and slowly placed it on. Running her hand lightly up the princess’s leg, she slowly let her thumb brush over Helaena’s knee. The quiver that ran through Helaena’s body was not lost on the general. Looking down at Jamie before her, Helaena knew she was in deep trouble. 

“Tomorrow, dear princess.” Jamie did not remove her hand and instead stared up at Helaena, who seemed to glow in the moonlight. 

“Tomorrow General Arryn. I must go.” The sound of her brother’s nearing footstep panicked Helaena.  

“Yes. And I best hide from your brother.” With a wink, Jamie was gone and Helaena was left standing dumbly by herself as her brother rounded the hedge.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” He looked at his flushed sister in confusion while she simply looked at him with wide eyes. 

“The moon.” She pointed up. Aemond simply chuckled before pulling his sister away. 

“You are the strangest person I know.” 

But Helaena was no longer listening. All she could think of was the feeling of Jamie’s fingers on her skin. The fire that was a light in her soul. The tremble that had shaken her to her core. 

“Tomorrow is going to be a great day brother.” 

#queen helaena #helaena targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #phia saban #aemond targaryen imagine #game of thrones imagine #helaena targaryen imagine #haelaena targeryen x reader #helaena targaryen fanfic

[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. 

#original writing #short story #fantasy #goblins #fae #dragon #my writing #shattered realms twisted reality #main story #Thoxa #Tox

[vibke]

How did the cookies react to pure vanilla cannibalizing a faerie?? Pretty out of character for him so I’d wonder what everybody would think of him after witnessing something like that 👁️👁️

The once serene realm of the fairies was shattered by the chilling sight of Vanilla, the gentle cookie they knew as White Lily's closest companion, committing an unfathomable act - consuming one of their own kind. White Lily, with tear-filled eyes and a heart heavy with disbelief, stood frozen in place, her mind unable to reconcile the kind soul she thought she knew with the monstrous act unfolding before her.

The rest of the fairies, their delicate wings trembling in shock and horror, struggled to make sense of the incomprehensible scene before them. Whispers of disbelief and fear rippled through their ranks, their voices tinged with a mixture of desperation and disbelief as they grappled with the sudden betrayal of trust from Vanilla.

For White Lily, the incident cut deep, a jagged wound in her heart that threatened to shatter the memories of the kind and compassionate friend she once knew. Her gaze, filled with a cocktail of sorrow and confusion, sought answers in the depths of Vanilla's eyes, now clouded by a darkness she could not fathom.

As for the other fairies, their perception of Vanilla as Lily's loyal companion clashed violently with the harrowing reality playing out before them. Their minds raced with questions, their hearts heavy with a profound sense of loss and betrayal as they struggled to come to terms with the unthinkable truth laid bare before them.

In this moment of profound despair and shattered illusions, the fairies stood united in their shared bewilderment and sorrow, grappling with the cruel twist of fate that had torn apart the fabric of their once harmonious world.

In a desperate bid to save Pure Vanilla from his mysterious transformation, White Lily sent urgent letters to the ancients, calling for their immediate assistance. Only Shadow Milk knew the truth about Vanilla's plight, yet White Lily clung to hope, determined to rescue her dear friend

(Awwwww, thank you so much for asking! It was such an interesting experience for me to think about how the characters felt! There is never too much drama and suffering (＾▽＾)

#pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla crk #cookie run #crk #crk fanart #cookie run fanart #white lily cookie #faerie #hope I managed to give a complete and interesting answer :P

[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.* 🌸🌿✨

#mpreg birth #pregnant man #mpreg #giving birth

[darklyndivinely]

The Brothers react to your sudden demise

Fandom(s) - Obey Me!

Character(s) - The Demon Brothers (-Mammon, Belphie)

Summary - Headcannons about how The Brothers would react to finding out about your death.

Warnings - ANGST, sad!Bois, mentions of death, mentions of kissing (Satan, Asmo), mentions of sex and related activities (Asmo), most of them don't know how to cope healthily.

Wordcount - 3.5k+

A/N - This has been in the work for ages. Unfortunately, I could not write Mammon and Belphie even though I had ideas for them. Also idk why Beel's is so short, it just feels like there's nothing more to add. This time Levi's is the best, haha.

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Like this? Check out my headcannons about angry brothers here!

Premise - Diavolo steeples his fingers together. The atmosphere of the Council Meeting Room is palpable with tension. Finally, after a deep breath, the prince says, "Mc is dead... They died from a sudden heart attack and were discovered a couple hours ago in their apartment."

LUCIFER, AVATAR OF PRIDE

Lucifer is distressed beyond belief. Playing in front of his eyes is his worst nightmare, the dread of a reality he had been steadily gathering his courage for. Suddenly, it’s not a moment of dire anticipation swirling through his mind nor is it contemplation of a reaction he might have in the future. This is the future. You are dead, and Lucifer doesn’t know whether to scream or sob. 

The council meeting room has become blanketed by silence following Diavolo’s words. None of his brothers seem forthcoming to break it, eyes hooded over with fierce emotions, and so Lucifer stifles the tremor in his bones. His voice, as he demands more information, quivers on its way out.

All he wants at that moment is for Diavolo to laugh in his signature boisterous way, clap a hand on his shoulder, and say how this was nothing but part of an elaborate prank. But the Demon Prince, to his deep disappointment, doesn’t laugh or show any signs of amusement at his suffering, and instead offers him details that only twist the knife lodged in his heart deeper.

Lucifer's eyes gravitate to Barbatos' then, seeking confirmation or comfort, he doesn’t know. What he does know is he shouldn't, he really shouldn’t, but as the butler displays a breath of hesitation before firmly shaking his head, he can’t help but latch onto that brief moment of uncertainty.

The next day, having freshened up to the best of his abilities, he reaches out to Barbatos. A couple of hours of rephrasing his questions enough times irritates the butler into submission, and he receives the wretched answer he’d been so craving. The one and only timeline in which you’ll still be alive and breathing was the one where you never discovered Devildom, where he didn’t sign his approval on your application, where he didn’t live out all those blissful years with you at all. 

Lucifer feels his teetering balance tip. Did he possess enough strength to grant you life but watch you thrive from afar, blissfully unaware of his existence? Was he resilient enough to watch you fall in love with a stranger and hold himself back to allow you that simple shred of happiness? The answer is simple and yet the most impractical course to exist, so Lucifer accepts the soft hug he receives from Barbatos.

Later that night, back against his cool headboard, lower half cocooned in his blankets, he clasps in his fingers a polaroid of you. With the human realm’s sun shining directly in your face, your eyes were scrunched in this frozen piece of bliss, lips tilted in an amused grimace. Against the bright green backdrop of the vibrant grass and shadows spread at your feet—both his and yours—you were ethereal, the most candid he’ll ever experience you as. 

He cradles his shattering heart in the embrace of your warm memory then, forfeiting his being to the anguish knocking at the door of his soul. It bursts in, rushing through his veins with a frenzy, consuming his senses like liquid fire, and tumbling out of his lips in a bloody stream of misery.

How long he fists the sheets on his bed, Lucifer doesn’t know. Grief comes alive in his eyes, fades into anger, and then, sometime after, revisits again. Only this time, when pain sears his body apart, he doesn’t resist, doesn’t scream or sob or cry or even think. 

Muffled steps stop before his door at some point. The person doesn't knock though so Lucifer burrows deeper into his cave of exhaustion. As his body succumbs to slumber, he manages to catch sight of a crow settling on his windowsill. He doesn’t send it away.

The next morning, Lucifer pulls his cape over his shoulder with hollow movements, missing the hands that used to run over the lapels and loop around his nape. The breakfast table lacks its eighth set of cutlery, the sight of the vacant chair adjacent to him plucking ruthlessly at the strings of his heart. The first sip of his coffee is starkly normal on his tongue, no bitterness, no edge of cinnamon, no one to thank and appreciate.

Once upon a time, ‘normal’ had been an actuality that he had yearned for. Now, the same word is an incredibly sour thought to him, a harbinger of torment and darkness. You, who he had once considered ruthlessly far from normal, had captured his heart in a vice grip of adoration by that exact unpredictability of yours. You were the most strange, vivid, and beautiful thing to happen to him. The absence of you is, consequently, the most desolating occurence in his life.

The bottle of Demonus Lucifer touches to his lips is freezing, sweet poison popping across his tongue in bubbles of inebriation. Classical notes fade in and out of his hearing, the music a bit too loud to be considered appropriate for nighttime. He begs then, mind hazy with inconsolable longing, desperation solidifying in his eyes once again. His hands reach out, yearning, and graze over the seat you used to once occupy, the covered glass he kept for you to peruse is a bit askew atop his table, the dark skull in his office that you used to admire raking cold claws of uneasiness down his spine. 

What would you do if you saw him now? Would you chide him for the liquor that lingers on his lips or would you join in and raise a somber toast? Will your glass as it clinks with his bottle make any sound? Or will it, instead, be a faded ring of your laugh that loses its intensity every passing second? 

Lucifer raises the alcohol to his lips again. All that was warm is now cold. But the cold must wait before its descent, for he is not ready for battle yet.

LEVIATHAN, AVATAR OF ENVY

Levi is in disbelief.  An incessant buzz rings in his ears, denial bubbling out of his throat in a hurry. Nonsense! How could you be dead when he had talked with you just this morning? Diavolo assures him that they have double-checked—you were dead. Levi shoots out of his seat then. He’ll call you; you’ll pick up, laugh at how ridiculous Diavolo was being, and reassure him of your sentience by gently calling his name through the speakers. 

His heart thuds shakily in his chest when the line doesn’t connect. He persists through the agitating rings when finally, finally you pick up. The voice that greets him though, is vastly different than yours. Stumped, Levi tells them how he was hoping to contact you. The voice is slow as it informs him: you had a heart attack this afternoon. There was going to be a funeral soon, if he wished to attend, he was welcome. He thanks them softly, disconnecting the call and turning to avoid the concerned eyes trained on his skin.

You were dead...but how? How could you—fierce and strong, and so, so brave—die? Death didn’t seem to be a concept that rhymed with you, and yet, the grief streaked through the faces around in sharp waves. 

“How do you feel?” Mammon asks during a weekly gaming session. For once, Levi doesn’t shush him and tell him to focus; instead, he tries to come up with an answer.

How did he feel? Like his world had darkened at its edges, peace blurring out of existence. The clock in his room has become nothing but a showpiece; his days have started to replicate the journey of the needles, starting and ending the same way. He felt trivial in his existence, unimportant, insignificant; an ink smudge in a sea of pages bound together, nothing more than a drop in comparison. He feels too much. And yet, words fall short, drying on their journey to his lips. There’s so much to say, so Levi stays quiet.

He’s uncertain about the exact moment when he fully braced the full weight of your death. Maybe it was when he had blearily opened his closet one morning and the cosplay costume he had helped you stitch had spilled into his arms. Perhaps it happened when he had been searching for one of his noise-cancelling headphones and had instead found a bunch of pictures of you and him together from when you had dragged him to a carnival photo booth.

Levi has never experienced drowning; water is his main source of power after all. But now, it feels as if his lungs are on fire, ears throbbing in the sea of grief he can’t seem to reach the surface of. The breath he so desperately tries to hold onto soon bubbles into sour water that turns his skin translucent. The glass tank around him has shattered into a billion pieces, all reflecting his numb and broken face and they digdigdig into his heart, deeper and deeper until they pass through and he is left motionless with blood colouring his surroundings and seeping in through his clothes and his exhausted body and back into his heart. Levi thinks he’s screaming, or maybe there are screams in his ears, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.

Where did you go? Levi wonders at night, the blink of his gaming console shading his face blue. Why did you go? Could you not have stayed with him for a day longer? He wanted to tell you how much he enjoyed the song you had sent him. The music video of it was so beautiful and ethereal. And he still hadn’t gotten around to watching that trilogy you had recommended. He wanted to watch it with you. He wanted you to tell him every little trivia you knew about it. He wanted to see you excitedly explain theories and try to swallow any spoilers for his benefit. He wanted to see you again, touch you again, and feel you trace his tail again. Where had you gone?

He’s crashing through walls of memories, screaming and aching and yearning for anything of you. There’s an unfurling seed of desperation in his chest that spreadsspreadsspreads through his veins, and sets his blood alight with the need to be close to you. You can no longer reserve your most wholesome smile for him, the twinkle in your eye as you call his name just before you pull a prank on him having gone missing. He can longer be close to you physically, but he still can feel you emotionally. 

And so Levi reaches out to you in his memories. He holds you in his arms and spins you around merrily. He remembers every tidbit of yourself you ever gifted him: phrases of songs you used to hum in the shower, show recommendations given to him over the breakfast table, brand names you had claimed to be your favourite and used. Everything that had brought a smile to your face starts to bring one on his as well. This is a part of you that he has found—many of which are parts you had endowed onto him and him alone.

There are so many things you had loved that he had been unable to, so many memories that he was supposed to have with you, but no more. He’ll live your share of the happiness too, for when he finally meets you again—in this lifetime or the one after—he will tell you all that you have missed. He will tell you how you are and will always be his Henry.

SATAN, AVATAR OF WRATH

Satan doesn’t know how to handle the emotions that rain down on him with Diavolo’s words. His mind feels stuffed with cotton, the tips of his fingers cold with disbelief, and the stark taste of blood on his tongue is fresh and raw. He thinks he says something to Diavolo then, but two days later he has no memory of the words. He has no remembrance of anything besides you.

Satan finds himself tracing the bookshelves in his room. His heart is subdued in his chest, quivering feelings caged inside. He fingers free a familiar book, flipping through the pages yearningly. The book is a most colorful sight, marked with an assortment of highlighters and the familiar imprints of your scent. There are tiny sentences nestled in between paragraphs, so much like words of love and reassurance you used to whisper in his hairline during the truly dark hours, and Satan wonders for the umpteenth time if this was your way of crawling inside his soul and immortalizing yourself. He traces a winky face etched at one of the corners, the full weight of your love cradled between his arms crashing through his being. His knees give way under him, body collapsing onto the ground as heaving sobs rip through his throat.

Forever; such a lie it was. All the soft flutters of it from your lips had fooled him; fooled him into grand delusions; fooled him into saying it back. He had believed that delusion to be reality, taken for granted the touch of your lips on his, and now forever had slipped from between his fingers. His hands had been emptied just like the other side of his bed.

Satan screams then, at the memories throbbing in him like spikes of hot emotion. He rages at the moon that had dulled without your warmth at his side, at the pulsing silence of the library that had become devoid of your breath, at death that had snatched your life away. The white hot pain is unfamiliar but it’s full of meaning, composed of nothing but you, so Satan reaches out to it. He savors the smoke that curls from his burning flesh, the needles that prick his body and draw out his life force. So what if you had lost yours? He’ll gladly share his own life with you. He’ll gladly surrender every second of his existence to you.

Satan knows it’s stupid, cradling the pain like it was you instead. But emotion had never been his forte, and by default, neither had been you. So for once Satan lets himself be stupid, lets his wrath and his pain accompany him as he ventures with you in memories.

The air of House of Lamentation has become charged with cautiousness ever since your demise. Everyone has started treading on eggshells, carefully phrasing their words when trying to initiate communication with the fifth born. Satan shouldn’t, but he feels a twisted satisfaction at their discomfort. The sight of their stuttering tongues and fidgety eyes brings him a pleasure compared to none. He had let loose of the frayed strings of control, had let them fall far, far beyond his reach. He had stopped pretending and everyone hated it. In moments when he feels other’s despair at his behavior, his thoughts of you renew with fervor. You, who had never looked at him differently for his wrath, who had always gripped his arm silently and offered comfort in trying times; you who had loved him and who he had loved in return. You, who had made even his wrath, fall in love with you.

Satan knows the right word for it: defense mechanism. He knows this is nothing but a way to cope with the loss he has endured and yet he can’t bring himself to care. Each passing day, the anchor to his emotions weakens in its hold as his actions blur into a façade and reshape themselves into another hastily conjured illusion. The clock ticking in his mind is consistent: someday he’ll run out of anger and all of his aching and bleeding flesh would tumble out of him. But fortunately for him, that is a long time to come. When that day does come, Satan will be ready. Ready to embrace the chaos inside of him the way you always had.

ASMODEUS, AVATAR OF LUST

Asmo’s immediate reaction is numbness. His mind stills, so does his physical body. Distantly he observes Levi shoot out of his seat but Asmo can’t conjure up any energy to mimic his brother. All of his energy seems to have seeped out of his body with the news of your demise. Upon returning to the House of Lamentation he immediately retreats into his room. Nobody catches sight of him for the next couple days. Mammon tries to get him to open the door after Asmo fails to show up for meals for a full day, but he gives up when it’s clear that his brother has no intention of picking the food he had left outside.

When Asmo does appear, a full five days later, everybody does a double check at the sight. When before Asmo had been soft pinks and tangy greens, he now had switched those colors with treacherous black and ruminating silver. His face had hardened into smooth marble with spikes circling his neck in beautiful constrictions, heels getting deadlier by the day. Your death had both awakened and subdued something in him.

One morning, when Satan casually brings up the change in aesthetics, Asmo pauses, twirls his fork around his fingers, and replies without glancing up, “I am mourning, of course.”

He is mourning, that much is true. However, as he sits in the dark of his room, Asmo wonders if his ways are healthy. There are so many feelings in his chest that he had never expressed to you. Everything around him: his room, his closet, the dining table, the garden, all of it so familiar was now painted with memories of you. A part of him yearns to run. Escape from the ghost of your hand that lingers on his cheek, the color of your eyes that haunts his mind, the taste of your lips, and the cozy fit of his face against your shoulder that never leaves him be.

Everything hurts. And some days, Asmo gives in to that yearning. Let the succubus’ clinging to him run their hands over his hips because did it really matter if those hands weren’t yours? At least this way he could pretend. Pretend that the voice moaning his name is yours, that the fingers that scrape against his scalp are familiar. At least this way he can pretend that you hadn’t scooped his soul hollow with your death, that he hadn’t lost all sense of direction when you had taken your last breath.

There’s another part of him too. A part that doesn’t want to let you go, that wants to cling to the shadow of your memory and carve your name on the insides of his soul. On days he succumbs to this part of his being, Asmo welcomes the phantom touch of your gaze on his. He goes to The Fall, a club you both had frequented and orders the drinks you had. He twirls in the spot you had liked, breathlessly sings along to the music like you had, and dances and dances.

Dances till his vision swims with vivid memories and pain becomes his enemy; it’s a constant company, a relentless reminder that he is alive and breathing while you aren’t. You weren’t dancing with him or holding hands or laughing or doing anything but lying dead somewhere so, so far away. He was so dumb for letting you return to that wretched human realm by yourself. He should have been there with you but he wasn’t.

Instead, he is here, wrecked and inebriated, trying to pretend that his world hasn’t slipped off his axis; trying to pretend that he isn’t completely and utterly shattered with you gone.

BEELZEBUB, AVATAR OF GLUTTONY

Beel is heartbroken. Two days ago when you had called him, you had sounded like you always did: excited, radiant and full of life. You had found a delicious velvet cake, you’d told him and had proceeded to describe the taste in such exquisite detail, Beel had to run to Madam Screams to satisfy his sudden craving. The news that you had succumbed to death barely forty-eight hours after he had talked with you was agonizing to hear.

The weight in his chest seems lighter when Belphie is beside him. His twin is calming, can voicelessly feel his turmoil, and always offers an unassuming reprieve to his raw and aching heart. In the familiar attic with the warmth of his brother beside him it’s easy to pretend of your inexistence. When Belphie’s eyes fall shut, however, is when the true weight of your demise dawns upon Beel. No longer sheltered within a façade, he finds himself stranded at the center of a storm, icy memories of your infectious laughter and the glide of your fingers along his flesh whipping his skin raw.

Beel is caught in a tornado of heartache, tumbling out of the past and into a future devoid of your light. The ache of the fall is eternal, thawing through his insides in strikes of relentless agony and sorrow. He tries to adhere to his routine to distract himself then, aiming to not miss any of his Fangol practices. It provides another reprieve: the adrenaline thrumming through his blood, the brief but welcome shot of happiness that accompanies their win.

When the match ends Beel changes out of his sweaty clothes and starts towards the bleachers, lips parted with a breathy grin and body flushed with excitement, but stills halfway, freezing realization creeping through his heart: You weren’t going to be there. Yet his feet pull him over to the benches, to the vacant seat you once occupied. Beel doesn’t know why he sits there, or how long. He just sits, hands resting on the metal arms and tries to see the Devildom moon the way you must have seen it. Maybe if he touches this seat long enough, he’ll be able to identify all the places your fingers had grazed it. Maybe if he thinks about you enough then he’ll have something more than just a past with you.

You were gone and had left your inevitable mark on Beel. His hunger which used to be a means to extinguish the ravenous fire in his stomach has now become a way to fill the chasm that has hollowed his soul neatly through the middle. It is the only healthy way for him to cope with the excruciating pain that throbs through his being every time a whisper of name stumbles upon him.

Guilt plagues his heart then, just like you haunt his soul. Isn’t this emptiness all he has left of you? Isn’t the hollow carving in his heart a sentient reminder of how much you had meant to him? He shouldn’t try to subdue this pain that makes him feel so alive; a pain that feels like his soul has merged with yours.

Was this what you had felt when you had died? Because if so, Beel would gladly claim this pain as his own. He would gladly draw the blood from his body if it meant he could be closer to yours.

#obey me #lucifer x reader #lucifer angst #leviathan x reader #leviathan angst #levi x reader #levi angst #satan x reader #satan angst #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus angst #asmo x reader #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub angst #beel x reader #obey me headcannons #om! lucifer #om! beelzebub #om! leviathan #om! asmodeus #om! satan #darkly and divinely written #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #lucifer obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #asmodeus avatar of lust #lucifer avatar of pride #leviathan avatar of envy

[ch4singchase]

The Ballad of Moths | LUKE CASTELLAN

Summary: Eurydice grapples with the recent death of her mother and the haunting memories of Viola's tragic passing. Viola's mother, Nicole, reveals a hidden world of mythical creatures and urges Eurydice to seek refuge at Camp Half-Blood.

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Violence, tragedy, emotional distress, parental loss and the death of a child.

chapter one, chapter two | series masterlist

chapter 01: The Day I Talked To A Moth

The memory of Viola's passing remains etched in the corridors of my mind, an indelible mark that time has failed to erase.

My mother, a sage of life's transience, had often forewarned me about death's omnipresence, its silent footsteps trailing each of us, patiently awaiting the opportune moment to guide us into its realm. Yet, she spared me the knowledge that age was no shield against its grasp.

In my youthful naivety, I believed Viola and I, being so young, were exempt from such somber realities. However, reality had a way of shattering illusions, and ours came crashing down during our brief sojourn in Northern California.

My mother and I were perpetual wanderers, rarely settling in one city for long. Our nomadic lifestyle changed momentarily when we found a charming neighborhood that beckoned us to linger a little while longer. Perhaps my mother yearned for companionship beyond my six-year-old self, and I, too, longed for friendships with children of similar age and energy.

In that Californian neighborhood, we discovered a temporary haven, filled with laughter and camaraderie. Viola, a kindred spirit, stood out among my newfound friends. Her mother and mine formed an easy bond, sharing the same wanderlust that defined our nomadic existence. Viola, having lost her father like me, seemed like a twist of destiny, signaling an end to our perpetual wandering.

For a fleeting moment, it felt like we had found our home.

Until we hadn't.

A seemingly innocuous day at the park, filled with laughter and games, took a nightmarish turn. Engrossed in a competitive game of tag, Viola and I reveled in the illusion of safety, oblivious to the impending tragedy. In the blink of an eye, a surreal scorpion's tail pierced Viola's chest, shattering our sense of security.

The ensuing chaos blurred the lines between reality and nightmare. I remember screams and tears, the tight embrace of my mother as she swiftly led us away from the park, leaving California behind. Our return to the road, to the nomadic rhythm of our lives, marked the end of our brief illusion of home.

Viola's mother became a distant enigma, her name slipping away like an elusive echo—Nancy? Nora? Pansy? Patricia? Time had rendered it a mere whisper from the distant past. Yet, fate had a peculiar way of weaving connections, and I encountered her once more, at my mother’s funeral.

It all was still too recent. I could still feel her blood soaking my clothes and how my hands had become red in seconds.

The wounds were still fresh. I could still feel her blood staining my clothes, my hands turning crimson in seconds. Unceasing tears bore witness to the haunting memory, the giant one-eyed man.

Yet, this time, a revelation emerged—it wasn't a man but a Cyclops.

I didn’t know how or why, there was no room for explanations. It simply was.

There were not many people at the funeral.

My mother never talked to me about her parents, so when I tried to reach for them, I didn't have a clue where to start. She also didn’t have any friends, only people she met briefly, some of them were there more for respect than anything else. Since my mom was always the kind of woman that did favors without asking anything in return.

Besides me, there wasn't anyone else that knew her who knew her besides the kind and selfless woman that she was.

No one except Viola’s mother.

I sought refuge beneath my umbrella, a futile attempt to hide the evidence of my tears and the redness of my eyes, which had been incessantly shedding tears since the moment I felt my mom's absence.

“I’m sorry about your mother, dear,” a voice sounded behind me, nearly catching me by surprise.

But I recognized that voice anywhere. When I raised my head and looked into her eyes, I wasn’t startled. Viola’s mom had always been a quiet and astute woman.

I wasn't surprised that she was there; I could wager she had been trying to reach out to me and my mother since Viola's death.

“Thank you,” I uttered, the phrase having become a constant refrain throughout the morning. Everyone present was expressing their condolences.

“I know it sounds redundant when everyone says it to you, but I truly am,” she continued. “Your mom was a fighter. I have no doubt that she didn’t give up for a moment. She always said she would do anything to keep you alive.”

There was a bitterness in her voice, as she bit something back. Every day, I remember the day Viola died. And every day, I remember how her mother could move when her eyes stopped on the motionless body of her daughter, her eyes no longer full of life.

“We couldn’t have done anything to help Viola,” I bit my lips, playing with the nails of my fingers, “That thing- Everything was too fast.”

“Chimera,” she said, her voice low as her eyes darkened in a void. I gave her a puzzled look, “The thing. It was a Chimera.”

“No,” I shook my head, “Chimeras are from fairy tales, they are made up. They don’t exist.”

“Just like Cyclopes?”

I swallowed, feeling something heavy in my chest just from thinking about yesterday. The rain, the car in full speed, the accident, the man… That eye. That one single and creepy eye.

What had he said? That we had been running for a long time? He also had called me by a name, something that I would often be called from time to time again.

Half-blood.

“Your mother never told you for the same reason I never told Viola,” Viola’s mother continued, coming closer to me until her umbrella bumped into mine, “It only makes it easier for them. If we had ever told you, it would mean we would have to accept the idea of keeping you away from us.”

None of her words made sense to me. I tried to pay attention, but each time I felt myself drifting away.

“Them? Who are they? I don’t know what you are talking about.” My grip on my umbrella became stronger.

Viola’s mother wore a strange expression, a kind of fear. Every second, she glanced around before meeting my eyes, as if ensuring that no one was eavesdropping on our conversation.

But there was no one else there, only us. Everyone else had already left after an hour.

“The monsters,” she whispered, gripping at her own umbrella, “They always find you, just like they always found Viola. I could take care of you but I can’t, not since what happened to Viola, I can’t keep you safe”

I frowned, take care of me? I would end up going to a foster house or something like that; the policeman I met that morning was just waiting for me outside. Had Viola’s mother thought of adopting me?

I almost felt outraged at the idea that the only person I had known that was close to my family had given up on me.

But… Keep me safe? Those were her words, what did she mean?

“Safe from the monsters? What are you talking about? There are no monsters, that one eyed guy probably suffered from an accident or I don’t know and that said Chimera for sure could be a giant scorpion.”

I tried to find justifications, answers for everything I had been seeing since I was born. Monsters and creatures no one else seemed to acknowledge. Things that followed me everywhere, no matter where I and my mother went, even in my dreams.

But nothing made sense.

Since my mother left, none of her justifications for what had been happening to our lives made sense anymore.

Those creatures looked too real to simply be my imagination.

I was already fourteen; I didn’t feel that creative anymore.

“You understand now, don’t you?” Viola’s mother sighed, “No matter where you go, they will hunt you down; there’s only one place where you will be safe.”

“Where? I can’t simply go somewhere now; tonight I will go to the foster system,” I glanced at the policeman in the distance, with his umbrella waiting for me.

“The Camp Half-Blood, it’s the safest place for kids like you,” Viola’s mother said, biting the tip of her fingers out of nervousness, “I can help you to get out of this town but after you’re on your own, you are better if you go alone or find others like you in the way.”

Camp Half-Blood… That, for sure, wasn’t a joke; there wasn’t any way that Viola’s mother knew what the Cyclops said to me.

I tried to focus on her face and her words, feeling the reality shift around us. Everything felt real. Too real.

I tried to focus on her face and her words, feeling the reality shift around us. Everything felt real. Too real.

I glanced at the policeman again; I didn’t want to go to a stranger’s family. I wanted to go… Anywhere, a place where I could feel home again, just like I felt when I lived side by side with my mom, Viola, and Viola’s mother.

And if that camp had people like me… People like Viola, I would take a risk. I didn’t have any hope anymore, or direction.

“Okay,” I said, for the more impossible it can sound, “Okay, what’s your idea?”

The idea involved nothing astute or well-planned for a woman like Viola’s mother; she simply grabbed me and ran away to her car, not caring about my fallen umbrella and the rain crashing into my head. She also didn’t give a damn about the policeman screaming at her and chasing us until we got into her car and she hit the car accelerator.

She kept everything that she had said. Viola’s mother drove us to the exit of the city and stopped at a random convenience store near a bus station.

She fished for her wallet in her pockets, getting twenty bucks out of it before handing it to me.

I looked at her with my mouth shut; I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t uttered a word the whole ride.

Perhaps, I was in shock at the time. Deep down, I had hoped she would change her mind and decide to help me find the place or decide to take me with her.

Which wasn’t the case.

I had lied when I said I didn’t have any hope anymore. I think there’s no such thing as a person without hope.

We can’t live without it, even when we know it’s a false hope.

“Now you're on your own,” she took a deep breath, opening the doors of her car, but not daring to look into my eyes.

As if she did so, she would change her mind and decide not to let me go away. The daughter of a mom that had gone through the same things as her, someone that could have been her best friend and now was gone.

The little girl beside her was her daughter, someone that once played with her own daughter.

And now, was a teenager.

How things could have been if anything in that day at that park went differently?

“Thank you, Mrs…” I couldn’t recall her name; I always used to call her Viola’s mother when I was younger.

“Nicole.” Nicole smiled, pressing her lips in a thin line as she glanced at me, “You can call me Nicole, dear.”

“Thank you, Nicole” I smiled back, holding back my tears and taking the twenty bucks before getting out of the car.

Before Nicole drove away from me, she rolled down the window’s car.

“Good luck, Eury” and there she went, into a journey far too different I would take.

How long had it been since someone had called me Eury? I really couldn’t remember.

I looked around, trying to trace a plan. Buy resources and a ticket for the bus, but where should I go?

Viola’s mother didn’t tell me or didn’t know where the camp was, and little I knew where it could be. I walked to the front of the convenience store, staring at the map of the USA that covered the wall on the outside. It could be anywhere.

I was at Massachusetts, Springfield. Once I found the state on the map, I looked up and sighed, where I could go from there? I tried to run my fingers through the dotted lines and the names of the most distant states to the closest ones, thinking about routes and paths that I would have taken before with my mother. Trying to remember the buses and prices, even though I still didn't know exactly where I was going.

Until a moth landed next to my finger, resting from its arduous flight just above Riverhead on Long Island, Baiting Hollow. Its wings were dark with brown details, with no trace of the rain outside.

I looked at the road behind me confused, I was in a more convenient area because of the convenience store, but still the rain outside was heavy. How was that moth so... Intact?

Again, I turned to the moth, observing it cautiously.

"Long Island" A deep voice resonated in my mind, as low as a whisper, almost making me question whether it really was my conscience or the voice of someone I had met before.

But I would definitely remember a voice as serene as that.

Looking at the letters beneath the moth, I swallowed hard. Baiting Hollow, Long Island, right? Would this be the place?

I looked around me, seeing if all this was the sign of a monster, whatever it was. Even though I didn't remember any monster that carried moths, not at that moment.

“I’m trusting you, buddy” I said to the moth, which I know, crazy. It was a moth after all, but at this point, what in my life didn’t sound crazy?

Next thing, I’m buying some snacks, bottles of water and a ticket to New Haven, Connecticut. From there, I would have to figure out what to do next.

At least, now I knew where I should go.

#pjo tv show #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #thalia grace #luke castellan #chiron #dionysus pjo #pjo series #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians

[marispunk]

Dear Simon...... || Simon "Ghost" Riley

pairing: simon "ghost" riley!cod x grieving reader

reader is writing a letter to simon to cope with simons death :(

warnings: mention of death, grieving, no use of y/n. please let me know if i missed anything this is my very first post!

idk why of all things i write, i write this FORGIVE ME.

Dear Simon,

It's been 4 years since you left this world, yet the pain in my heart feels as fresh as the day you were taken from me. In this desolate world, I find myself reaching out to you, as if the words I write can somehow bridge the gap between the living and departed.

The days blur together, each one a relentless tide of the undead. But in the midst of this grim reality your memory becomes a beacon, guiding me through the darkness. I often find solace in the quiet moments, stealing a breath between the chaos to imagine your warm smile and the way your laughter used to echo through our once vibrant world.

I've met others along this harrowing journey—strangers turned allies in the fight for survival. Among them, there's a man named Joel. His presence feels like a thread connecting me to life beyond the horrors we face. He listens to my stories of you, sharing in the laughter and tears that emerge from the depths of my memories.

Joel is not you, and I would never claim that he could replace what we had. Yet, in the hushed moments when the world seems to pause, I catch a glimpse of something resembling hope. Perhaps it's the universe's twisted way of offering a sliver of light amid the encroaching darkness.

As I traverse this broken world, I carry your love with me like a cherished relic. Our dreams of a future together may have crumbled, but the love we shared endures, resilient in the face of the apocalypse. I hope you can see, from whatever realm you now inhabit, that your absence hasn't left me shattered beyond repair.

In the midst of this nightmare, I am learning to find joy in the fleeting moments, to appreciate the beauty that persists even in the most unexpected places. And through it all, I hold onto the belief that you're watching over me, a silent guardian in a world gone mad.

The nights are the hardest the silence amplifies the ache in my chest, and I yearn for the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch. Yet, as I write these words under the feeble glow of a flickering candle, I feel a connection—a whisper of your presence in the shadows.

This letter may never reach you in the way I wish it could, but the act of writing to you provides a form of catharsis, a release for the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. In these lines, I pour my heart out to you, hoping that somewhere, somehow, the essence of our love transcends the boundaries between life and death.

Until we meet again, my love, whether in this world or the next, know that you are cherished, remembered, and deeply missed.

Forever Yours

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #call of duty modern warfare #cod