#tales of a cruel world (world and lore)

[amidstcalamity]

THE ERADICATOR VS. 100 ELITES

"Why.. why wouldn't he die.. were we just that futile even as a force of a hundred? Or was he just too strong? No.. get away from me.. AAAAAAHH!!"

Iraq was infested and crawling with many Desolation forces, overflowing the country with Elites, army of vehicles from ground to air, and even a few Legends. The walking apocalypse known as the Eradicator had arrived there and annihilated them all, creating more noise than ever.

Upon cleaning up Iraq of its menaces, he walked down to Saudi Arabia and into its vast desert on September 20, 2046. General Sefiron with its openness has seen a unique opportunity to send in one of the mightiest armies the world has seen: 100 Desolation Elites, formidable in their own way, each with their own unique powers. Every one of them were at least a Tyrannosaurus-level threat. They had confronted him in the middle of the desert, with the full intent of taking him down.

At the time, the Eradicator's power was growing colossally through his bloodied, hardcore battles against seemingly insurmountable odds. But, to face 100 Elites simultaneously, was an entirely new territory and challenge that he must truly overcome.

He took them apart, one by one, while getting beaten to the brim throughout with the collective 100 Elites' plans, strategies, and sheer strength. So many times has he been severely struck, and yet he fought back with raw, full strength. It didn't matter how much he got hit, for he was bound to hit much harder.

The battle took four hours and twenty-seven minutes, and pieces of scrap from powerhouses of vehicles, all 100 corpses of the Elites, fires and a barely-alive Eradicator was all that was left. The battle in the Arabian Desert was an ultimately destructive one.

But yet, he walked on, not even taking the time to heal or regenerate in some way. He disregarded the nigh-impossible battle, and the incalculable wounds that he has accumulated. His unreal rage and willpower was still soaring.

He wanted to destroy more of the Desolation.

[valorousflower]

The Supreme Being of the Multiverse

Xeletoridterletathatheth

Or Xeth for short.

Before creation, there was him. Afterwards, there were hundreds of universes. For eons and eons, Xeth's boredom and solitude grew indefinitely. As the billions of years passed on by, and life bloomed throughout the multiverse, he'd watch them from his own dimension. However, he was not bound to his own dimension, and his malevolent intents became known.

He destroyed planets with unbelievable ease out of sheer entertainment. Universes that he deemed to be boring, he shattered like glass, along with the billions of lives that housed them. Xeth trained apprentices like Ctelozapth and sent them to the highest volume planet with life, an example being Earth, to start their global organization and inflict calamity upon the world, to entertain their god who craves entertainment through the slow, agonizing burn of the multiverse. Lord Ctelozapth has went on to accumulating a kill count of a billion. Xeth created the Calamity Effect, a godly power that has laid waste upon the multiverse in the hands of mortals.

Omnipresent, he lives through those who serves him. He is the ultimate, all-powerful evil, decimating the multiverse by a severe fraction. But he wasn't done yet. He created the Ascended Ones, one such as the Eradicator. Godlike, inhuman beings that can survive a thousand apocalypses at once, and dish it back out upon their sworn enemies, with unreal power. There is only one Ascended One in each universe.

However, he would never anticipate an Ascended One to directly confront him, much less kill him.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[shalomniscient]

ONCE UPON A TIME...

⤷ a series re-imagining famous fairy tales with assorted genshin women !

⤷ featuring:

beauty and the beast [eula lawrence] ➳ on the edges of mondstadt, nestled in the frigid mountains of dragonspine, is a lonely, forgotten castle. word around town is that within the cold stone walls is a monstrous beast, a scion of the cursed lawrence family. you are content to live your days far ignorant of such a rumor, but when your father gets into a terrible accident in the mountains, you have no choice but to take your chances with whatever lurks in the castle to save him.

the little mermaid [raiden ei] ➳ the world above the water has always fascinated you. the tales of rolling hills and towering mountains, vast plains and mystical forests; and of course, the people. the people who sing and dance and run along the shore, carefree and lively. you wish, and you wonder, what it's like to be part of that world. your wish is granted somewhat on a stormy night, when a ship crashes against the rocks and scatters its human occupants to the waves. against what you've been told, you rush to save the one person you can find--a beautiful, purple-haired woman, dressed in fine, ornate clothing. it's a meeting that will change your life, forever.

snow white [arlecchino] ➳ your step-mother wants you dead. you know as much, when she cast you from your own home and into the cold woods, setting a hunstman on your tail. you barely escape with your life. the little cottage you stumble upon as you run, and the seven little fools you find inside become your saving graces. you spend your days there in peace, and even meet a handsome, dual-tone haired prince who passes by the cottage ever so often on her hunts. but peace, as you've learned, is fragile, and your world is upended again when your step-mother discovers that you're alive. and you can't help but wonder--is a happily ever after simply not in your cards?

rapunzel [beidou] ➳ when you were born, your parents gave you to a sea monster. you don't know why, and you were never told why. all you know is that you are this beast's prisoner, forever to be locked away in a tower by the sea. there is no escape for you; the only exit is the window, and the only thing waiting beneath it are jagged rocks and harsh waves. the beast comes and goes, ascending your tower using your hair as a rope. he calls your name in a singing rhyme, and you let down your hair. only one night, it is not the beast whom climbs through your window--but a charming, pretty pirate, who brings the first light of companionship to your life.

cinderella [jean gunnhildr] ➳ life is not easy after your mother's death. your father does his best, yet the woman he brings home to replace her is cruel. but she makes your father happy (or at least, you tell yourself as much) so you keep your head down and do as she and her daughters order you to. it isn't too bad. the attic is your refuge, and the barn mice keep you company. in the dark you gaze through the window at the glittering palace in the distance, and you let yourself dream of a sweeter life. but magic--magic has a way of turning dreams to reality, and there is more magic in your life than you know.

⤷ notes/disclaimers : ➹ this will not be a 1:1 retelling! i will of course do my best to be as close as possible to the source material, but since i will be incorporating genshin lore into this as well, i will be taking several creative liberties. also, some of the source material is... dark, and i'll be changing that because i personally don't enjoy writing dark content of that level. ➹ this is currently not the finalised list! i plan to add maybe two more characters, but i have yet to figure out how to work their corresponding fairy tales. ➹ unfortunately, there won't be a upload schedule! as much as i wish i could write only this for the next few weeks, i have other life things to handle, so i'll only be working on this in my free time. nonetheless, i'll do my best to get them up as soon as i can.

[honey-milk-depresso]

Batboys watching anime with reader

You know my ass went FULL ON LOCK MODE with Tim. I went crazy- 💀

***S/o is above 18, which means characters below are also aged up!

Doing requests until 1 Feb! Please see my pinned post and read the request rules on the navi! Thank you!🩷

Batbros watching anime with you

Dick Grayson

He’s watched a few 90s anime before, more the basic ones like One Piece and Pokémon, and he probably still watches them to this day. Boy has old CDs he has and you should probably try finding a Blue Ray (or use his if he can have Tim help fix it because it’s good as dead 💀) because he’s popping in every CD of old anime’s he have lying about.

“Wow, I didn’t know I had cowboy bebop! Or Slam Dunk!” He got a few rare gems, which makes it all the more fun to sit down on the couch under a blanket as you huddle and watch the nostalgic 90s anime shows together while eating popcorn.

He doesn’t mind watching new, modern day animes, just be prepared for when you two watch sad anime shows because he will sob like it’s the end of the world.

“NO, WHY WOULD KAORI DIE LIKE THIS?? AND SHE LOVES ARIMA- OH MY GOD IM SO—”sobs even more. He gets emotional while watching them because it’s so sad that it’s sO GOOD-

Loves dancing to those danceable anime music with you. He goes ALL. OUT. He even sings all of it in Japanese like wow-

I would love to hear him sing Cruel Angel’s Thesis in his Discowing suit and with goth makeup on it because it “sets the mood”, PLEASE-

Overall, great time watching with Dick. <3

Jason Todd

You expect someone like him to like Chainsaw Man, Trigun or something like those grunge-y, guns and knives animes, right? I mean, he does, but only with you and ONLY with you will he let his inner Magical Girl enthusiast ass shine. Because he LOVES Magical Girl animes. That’s probably the reason and one point of time why he wore red ribbons around his arms, he wanted that Sailor Moon experience and Tim might’ve just teased him about that era without knowing his love for Magical Girl animes and Jason might’ve flipped and freaked the fuck out and started chasing him down the manor.

Jason watches Sailor Moon, Madoka when he feels edgier than usual, Cardcaptor Sakura, every Precure series, Tokyo Mew Mew, man has all these shows somehow. He swears they weren’t through illegal means and he just worked very hard to gather all of them. He also might be a shoujo anime fan because if he loves Jane Austen books, you bet his ass would be reading Fruits Basket, Maid Sama or something because of course he would.

Also a Studio Ghibli fan, although watching the Tale of Princess Kaguya might make him feel too much, especially getting pissed off with the dad who forces his daughter into a wealthy life without her input and- yeah, you gotta calm him down as he cries bitterly and sourly with a pout on his face.

The two of you can go on and on about debating about unclear endings of animes all day long. You know the “AND SHE WAS A PRINCESS” video? That’s Jason.

Great man to watch anime with, and he’ll gladly be your Tuxedo Mask to your Sailor Moon (and not the “But you did nothing meme- or the other way around- he don’t mind being the Usagi-). <3

Tim Drake

I’m very convinced this man got into his whole detective shit because he watched Detective Conan and honestly I can’t blame him. Tim has probably the largest vessel of anime knowledge out of all of them. He doesn’t really have a specific genre he likes but he’s pretty fond of old 90s and 80s animes. He can explain the whole lore of One Piece, Fairytale, Pokémon like Jesus Tim, calm down- 💀

I can see him watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, Serial Experiments Lain or Key the Metal Doll because he likes that little bit of horror nature and mystery and thriller in his animes although he really doesn’t mind watching Haikyuu all over again if you want to.

Might introduce you to underrated and/or old animes like Revolutionary Girl Utena, Nadia the Secrets of Blue Water, every Studio Ghibli movie, those kinds of animes that give off the really pretty and aesthetic old anime animations that is just so pretty to watch and with really good storylines that both of you can cuddle on a couch together and watch. I bet he even watches anime with you even before you two got together, so you guys pretty much have “watching anime together” as part of the foundation of your relationship. Owns so much manga that you can’t even count, too.

Just… don’t make him watch those really slow burn, comedy love animes, specifically Love War. Not that he don’t like romance animes, he watches Ouran High School Host Club and Your Name, trust me, but Love War? He is going absolutely insane because of it.

“OH MY GOD- PLEASE JUST KISS ALREADY. ME AND S/O ARE ALREADY TOGETHER FIVE MONTHS AGO ANF YOU TWO ARE STILL TOO PROUD TO ADMIT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER WHILE BLUSHING- JUST KISS ALREADY-” <3

Damian Wayne

Damian likes anime. Would 100% go to an anime convention with you as a date if you’re up for it. He doesn’t mind (surprisingly- just for you only-).

He doesn’t necessarily like showmen animes although he has enjoyed a few, but he really loves slice of life, I feel. It just feels like he wants to put himself in a normal life and with a tad bit of drama in it like what the characters go through. The touching ones like Hyouka or Natsume’s Book of Friends.

Also animal related anime maybe except Beastars because he didn’t understand shit-?? He calls that peak anime. Aggretsuko, Chi’s Sweet Home and My Roommate is a Cat?? Damian loves this shit, he watches it intently with his arm around you. Even if he doesn’t smile, you know he loves it by the way his eyes sparkle.

Just don’t tell his brothers. He will seriously feel betrayed if you do so because he only watches these kinds of shows with you: the cute animal ones that are actually wholesome and/or funny.

The whole family is into Studio Ghibli, and he is no exception. He feels like it’s the best kinds of anime to watch with you when you guys just want to turn in for the day and huddle up on the couch. It’s one of the rare times he relaxes and softens and he’s glad to have quality time with you. <3

Duke Thomas

He likes anime! Studio Ghibli is definitely a favourite of his and he would gladly watch it together with you! He also love a fair bit of Shounen animes, the more popular ones like Jujutsu Kaisen, One Piece, Haikyuu, or Spy x Family. He likes them a lot!

A big fan of romance animes too: Ouran High School Host Club and The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya (if you two are in the mood to huddle on the couch together and cry).

Duke doesn’t mind any kind of anime so long as it doesn’t have too much horror or gore like… Higurashi. He gets chills when that anime is mentioned. D-Don’t watch it for your own sake if you don’t know. And if you do, avoid it with him at all cost because he will.

Duke also like singing some good anime songs with you and you guys can go crazy and dance around, just not as dramatic as Dick.

He would be super excited to spend a date with you watching shounen anime movies like from Jujutsu Kaisen and he would be so hype to spend time with you being a fanboy while also sharing that romantic air for the shared love of anime between you two and the love that you two share, although that love is far stronger. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[jinna-aka-ninja]

Calling of the Souls ~ Poly!LostBoys X Fem!Reader Part 9

Word Count: 1,349

A/N: I... honestly have no excuse. I was overwhelmed. Sorry.

Silence. Too long of a silence. So long of a silence that it felt like there was a mounting pressure for someone to say something. Anything. Everyone's eyes filled with an eager anticipation. It felt like it was nearly an entire year since anything was last said.

Finally, at long last, like a dam that had held back far too much water, there was a burst.

"Well?" David inquired, his tone of voice filled with a hint of the impatience that he was feeling from the building suspense. Who could really blame him? So many had been left in waiting. It was cruel to make them wait for so long.

Y/N snapped out of her dozed out state, glancing up and around the seating area of the once great and grand hotel. Her eyes meeting the others who were looking back at her, waiting for her to finally update them on what was going on. "What?" She asked having been daydreaming for some time.

"What do you mean, what? You said that you would explain when we got here." Paul asked in a lighthearted but teasing tone of voice.

"Oh my gosh, I did!" Y/N said as her eyes widened and lit up as it all came crashing back into her mind. She sat up straight as if ready to tell them a great tale and fill their mind with ancient lore. Even if some things were still unknown even to her because Tyr had kept her in the dark about many things.

"You had said… that you were a demon, like Tyr?" Dwayne asked as he was trying to get the ball rolling since it seemed like no one really seemed to know where to start.

"No." Tyr said to Dwayne, Y/N assumed that he had been just trying to shut down the conversation so she continued.

"When I was young, I had met Tyr who had started to help keep me safe. Protect me from the world. It must have been hard for him to take care of someone so young. It would not be a lie to say that he practically raised me." Y/N said to them all. "He is a demon too. He found me, a young demon and decided to show some mercy and help me survive in the world. I didn't really have a horde to help raise me. I had been among the mortal humans ever since I could remember. But I didn't quite belong with them."

With the words now out there and in the open, Tyr was glaring daggers at Y/N but she shrugged them off. Not wanting to entertain his apparent tantrum. If these were her soulmates then she would be open and honest with them. There would be no good in secrets being kept among them.

Though when these words were said it seemed that Michael, who had come in to the conversation rather late now looked nearly mortified. "Demon? You're joking right? Vampires, Demons… what's next? Witches and Werewolves?"

Tyr finally stopped glaring when that was brought up and couldn't help but snort out a laugh at that question. "Damn you really are as ignorant of humans as they come, halfling. Of course there are witches and werewolves in the world."

Michael had fallen silent when he was told about that. His eyes wide and his lip lifted as if in disgust. It was honestly a little offensive to have him react like that. Y/N rolled her eyes a bit at him. "Michael, you are now a part of a world that others could only ever dream of. You have a chance to live in immortality, see all that the world has to offer, have a power that would help you in all that you may need. Strength to protect those that you love from things that you never knew were a reality before. I know you are struggling with being half a vampire now, but think this carefully. Would you rather return to being human and being vulnerable to the dangers? Or would you rather join something that would give not only you power, but the strength of a family that also has that power?"

It was finally put in a manner that Michael had never thought about before. It would give him the ability to protect his family. To be there with his family, make sure they were safe. He hesitated to answer but no one pushed him to answer the question. Letting him have the time to think the question through and let the new reality he was a part of sink into his mind.

Y/N turned her attention back to Marko, David, Paul and Dwayne and sighed. "I am sorry I kept it a secret for so long but you have to admit that you have been keeping a secret from me too that is just as big and you cannot be angry with me because of it." She said to them because though she knew she shouldn't have kept such a big secret, if she had been the only one with just as big of a secret, then she would have known she was entirely at fault.

"You do make a fair point…" David acknowledged, even he could not make a big deal about something like this when it was very clear that they had all had secrets that had been vital to the futures of their lives if they were to intertwine them. "We aren't angry, we were worried that you would have not drank from the bottle.. Because if you didn't then we would have had to find a way to get you to become immortal in one form or another. If you already have that, then there isn't really much that we have to worry about. But I do want to know, if he raised you then why is he still sticking by your side when you're not a child anymore?"

"Because she doesn't have full access to her abilities and there are things that she needs help with." Tyr hissed to David, not liking the fact that David seemed to be questioning why Tyr was still around. "She still needs to be kept safe and she is my best friend so I will not leave her side."

It was heartwarming to hear it. Tyr had been such a vital part of Y/N's life that she really didn't think that she would be happy to live in a world that he was not a part of. Tyr was much too important to her. "You're my best friend too." She whispered to Tyr with a small smile on her lips.

So here we all were, secrets out in the open. Everyone trying to understand what was happening. Though the Four vampires did know that witches and werewolves existed, the existence of demons was unknown even to them. David's mind was reeling in an attempt to try to remember if Max had ever told him about demons even once. Nothing came to mind.

Michael was still trying to cope with vampires, now he had a lot more on his plate, and on top of that, now he had to figure out if he even wanted to be human again when there was so much in the world that easily could prey on humans. Would he be left open to these potential dangers? Yes he would. These were the type of things that he would have to live with for the rest of his life, no matter which choice he made. The options were far too much and each and every one of them had dangers that he would never be able to come to full terms with. However; if he chose to live the life as a vampire then at least he would be able to have the tools he needed to stand a higher chance of living. There would be more opportunities in the world if he chose that path, and at that moment, he was becoming the best choice to make.

Taglist: @simplyreading96 , @bloodywickedvamp , @cocopuffs1450 , @vxarak , @kristel1990 , @sagis116 , @doting-dov3 , @thelostone91 , @fabunicorn , @lestat-whore , @bluerubyrose , @lchufflepuffcorn , , @dakotapaigelove , @ladycrowsworld , @reallysparklychaos , @emodemmon , @sarcastic-sourwolf , @misspendragonsworld , @humanzeww ,

I don't know if some of these tags are going to work, some wouldn't let me click. I'm sorry, please forgive me for like, everything.

[popawritter12]

I loved your yandere rain! Would I be able to request a yandere havik with a male reader?

Author's Notes: Let's not say that I do not paid a lot of attention to Havik during my "stay" in MK1, but after digging a little into his lore, I was very attracted to this idea, I hope you like it!

Yandere! Havik x Male! Reader

Yandere character: Havik From the videogame/anime/manga/movie/serie: Mortal Kombat 1 Case: Kidnapping, chilhood friendship, agression to the reader. Warning: Mention of rape, SA and physical and mental abuse on the reader. Part:1 of 1 Finished:Yes

Where had he gone?

That question, short and simple, that could be answered in two or even a single paragraph, had run through your mind for so long that it seemed like it already knew where each nerve was, where your darkest sorrows were hidden, or where the heart lay. memory of that man whom you admired so much at the time.

Havik was his name; You still had the memory of when you saw him for the first time, someone quite tall, hair that gave off strands that barely followed an order, a stupid smile on his face - which, it should be noted, his lack of emotions when he walked away from you - and acting nervous when talking to you.

That's how he was, as stupid as a king in love, as kind as a vase when manipulating the stems of a flower, and as sweet in simple acts as company was on a fearful afternoon, or help in moments of crisis. .

It was because of that—or perhaps, because of the change of letters on each card—that, when you saw him again, with that mask covering his jaw, there was only one question running through your head.

Where had he gone? Who was this strange being that had the audacity to invade the body of your loved one? Of all the people in the world, why specifically him? And his face, fearful and even aggressive at the moment your hands appeared between his two cheeks, only showed a feature that you were lucky enough to see at the moment of his departure; the horror.

Whether it be to the unknown, or to how horrific the journey that he was forced to undertake was going to be when he left his hometown, or even to this moment, where the emotions have such an overwhelming size that it is frightening, that it causes such feeling in his heart—which seemed to have turned to stone after so many months away—that softens his soul, but that generates earthquakes in his mind.

He felt rotten, after so much time alone, after so much pain without being shared, and from such burns that it makes one believe that they would never heal, he felt as if throughout the trip, he had suffered a metamorphosis, one such that At this point, it caused everything to go to hell.

He never wanted to allow himself to love, but with you everything was different, with you it always had to be different, perhaps because the gods wanted it that way, or perhaps because fate, always cruel and cold, decided to condemn his soul to this torment. . The torment of seeing you from afar, of knowing that he had become a monster, a strange creature and that he had no place in his town, and, going even further, that he changed both his physical appearance and his soul, as well as his thinking. , like his belief that, even in the darkest moments, there was a way out.

But. that light never seemed to exist, or at least when that witch, so vile and deceitful, ruined all his hopes to nothing, submerged all his innocent thoughts of keeping you safe in an ocean of pain, from which there seemed to be no escape.

So ugly and cruel was the reality that he had to take days to accept that the path was the most difficult, however, that was never mentioned in the letters. The same ones, so sweet and tender they were, that it seemed like he was playing with your mind, that he was tricking your head, that he was writing a fairy tale so that you wouldn't escape from his grasp, much less from the reach of his arms.

However, Havik also learned to be cruel, so cruel that, more than one night, he happily fantasized about destroying those suitors who dared to touch what was his, longing to steal a heart that belonged to him, and seeking to generate in you a feeling of apathy for him.

But, in poetic words he was expert; so many days dedicated just to writing to you, so many spelling mistakes fixed, and so many papers thrown into the trash solely because they did not meet his expectations of expressing his growing and throbbing love in every drop of his blood for you.

Maybe it was his eccentricity to deceive you, or his professionalism when it came to expressing his affection for you in every letter that you fell into the trap of his arms, in the obsessive ties tied to his soul, and in the eccentric loves that decided to torment everyone. and each of your thoughts.

It was exceedingly painful for you to see how different it was when he saw you again; the look in his eyes when he simply saw your figure again in the darkness made you foolishly believe that he was the same as he was when he was gone. However, it was when his arms trapped you in an immovable grip that you noticed something was wrong.

He had that pleasure of wrapping his arms around you, of laying his head against your hair or simply allowing him, so desperate and eager to free people from him, to receive even a token of affection, a small sign that he was doing everything right, a piece of reality, which was that you were with him, that you were there to receive him with a hug, and that, above all, the relationship that for years was seen as tender, continued to lie. same love that they felt for each other, that affection still existed, that energy of showing love, that joy that generates in the heart of the other to be in the presence of the one whom they considered was the destiny of their life.

“They are going to be freed,” he had whispered to you, “finally, the bastards will be gone.” he assures you, as if it were a wish that had finally come true. And as he joyfully intoned and highlighted how far he had come to fulfill his goal of freedom, your happy grimace twisted, protesting and alert to each of his words.

“What bastards?” You asked him “Are you talking about the wizard you had helped or…?”, you tried to continue questioning, but your mind clicked quickly.

You weren't exactly known for being smart, let alone being able to fully understand Havik. Even with all the time of friendship, or all the years of affection and sweet moments that you shared between the two of you, there was something that you always tried to ignore; that black stain which seemed to expand with the passing of the years, that sign of corruption which was only a small sign that maybe, and just maybe, the thoughts that lay on his mind were not as sweet and kind as you. you believed for so many years of stubbornness and lies. And of course, when seeing the reality, it was already too late.

Your screams were heard only by him and by Rain, who was the direct cause of so much blood and corpses scattered across the well-built terrain of your city, your town, your people, your beloved people whose lives had been so important to you how to breathe and release the air from your lungs. Your sobs, useless and exasperating, were the cause of Havik's anger, who seemed not to understand your desperation and anger.

The screams turned to pushing, pulling, and too soon, hitting you to try to subdue you, and it was soon when you ripped the mask from his jaw. His burned face, his angry countenance that could only be noticed by the tilt and expression of his eyebrows and the color that formed around his eyelids, only provoked even more terror in your soul.

This wasn't Havik, you repeated over and over in your mind. This is not my man, you screamed at your heart as he punches you in anger. Each spank against your skin was like a direct stab to your feelings. “I did this for us!” he shouted at you, but you couldn't hear him clearly, your sobs of pain and desperate attempts to try to escape him were as useless as a lamb's attempt to escape from a hunting wolf.

Again and again, the blows and expressions extended to reality by his lips caused your soul to tremble in horror. Something had happened to your much-loved man, whom you called the love of your life, the man who you had so claimed that he was going to be yours for eternity, and that you would belong to him until the end of time.

Of course there was a reality in those words; You were going to belong to this cruel man, even with all the horror, the screams and the storm that hit the city and the corpses that lay beneath the depths of the magic-tinged water, along with the screams of horror of the people who were victims. During the dark night where no one could return to their bed and rest as they deserved, you were going to be an object, a small, manipulable and weak object, whose openings caused by so many blows had to be covered by countless bandages.

But before everything escalated, the tan-skinned man's magic forced him away from you with a crash.

Even with all the damage already caused, and all the deaths that occurred during the few minutes that your “punishment” lasted for the futile attempt to make that man understand the mistake he was making, he had quickly reached the state of repentance.

Even with your attempt to speak, it was difficult for the man whose name you didn't know to try to understand your speech, and only Havik's aggressive and understandable reaction reminded Rain how dangerous it was to try to prevent you from being hurt further. The fight, inevitable even at such a crucial moment in the people's “liberation” from the forcibly established order, spread, but it was obvious that it was already useless to try to reason at such an important moment.

It was the first and last time Havik forgave Rain for anything, and it even took him a few hours to realize how much he had gone too far when it came to hitting your face. But at that point, his mind, having the room of rottenness so normalized, just decided to “let it go.”

It was painful to remember that you were about to faint as buildings fell on your friends, where your family searched for you all over the city even on the brink of collapse and so close to death, and knowing that, even if you had tried, you wouldn't have managed to even move a hair on the man who looked so hurt by the experiences he gained after such a long trip, much less knocking down his companion.

The only memory you had after such savage blows was hearing his voice, that voice that had made you crazy with love for so long, and that now only caused terror in your heart.

Days passed until your eyes opened again, and the bed, the worn walls, the sheet that covered your skin and the bandages so poorly fitted that they seemed to have been hastily made were not part of your room, nor of your house, or anywhere in your house. And the rough footsteps in the distance reminded you of that man, no, that monster who had ruined what meant so much to you.

Disgusting, was what you thought when he treated you with all the kindness he could, and your serious expression demonstrated the obviousness of your anger, and even in your crude attempt to pretend that you were just looking to “get used” to your new life, there was only a look of anger on your face.

No, of course Havik was not easy to fool —or at least that was what you believed during your first days in your new home—, much less when he was able to weaken you and generate a trauma in your mind, one such that it could reduce your mind to nothing if he shown even a little cruelty.

It was horrible knowing that you had been deceived, so many hours, days, months dedicating yourself to knowing if he was alive, if he still loved you, if he still planned to return to your arms and whisper in your ear how much he loved you. All thrown down the drain the moment you realized his horrendous cruelty.

For countless nights you planned the escape of your life, but each attempt was worse than the last, and it was even more difficult when he seemed so calm when you simply didn't say anything or beg to be released. Of course, when something was wrong, he had to force himself on you through fear, and obviously, you were too manipulable for him at that point.

Without daily exercise in those four walls you lost your strength, there was no room for magic, much less a measly attempt to stab him. Everything was so useless at that point that it seemed impossible to escape.

But a ray of light crossed your life when the chains managed to soften his overwhelming grip after resisting your struggles for so long, and by then, you managed to escape during that time. Your feet against the twigs on the ground, and your gaze fixed on various animals that crossed your path as you hurriedly fled from that home of terror, everything was even like a fairy tale for you.

But reality hits much harder than it embraces, and in this case, it hit you with Havik's cruelty when he managed to find you. And of course, at the time of the encounter, his anger was so thunderous that he seemed to be unstoppable at this point. Every second in which you were dragged by his powerful arms along with threatening promises of how cruel he would be from now on was overwhelming.

The cries of pain still terrorize your mind during the first few nights he had the nerve to force himself on you again, but now in the worst way possible. You still tremble as you remember all the nights in which you were barely able to get a little rest; Whether it was because of how cruel he was to your poor, weak body, like the bite marks on your neck and neck, or the pain after the forced acts, or the crying that you were forced to suppress after so much agony, everything was so horrible that to this day is traumatic.

Day in which, even with the hope that those stormy nights were only generated by his temporary anger over your miserable escape, it was only a small beginning of what was to come in the rest of your life, the suffering that was going to twist your life. mind and shatter it only to cause a pleasurable twist in the mind of such a macabre man, and a minimal taste of the pain that awaited you until the end of your days, for the man you once called the love of your life.

[rpgsandbox]

Obojima is a 250+ page campaign setting inspired by the wondrous worlds featured in Studio Ghibli films and the beloved Legend of Zelda game series. Guide your players through breathtaking locations, encounter strange spirits, discover rare oddities, and battle wild and wondrous creatures. Create your own unforgettable narrative in this familiar world with an all-new collection of curious items, magical spells, and numerous player options.

A world built for exploration and adventure. Lose yourself alongside your players as you travel the breathtaking island of Obojima, a curious place with a mysterious past. Obojima is a prime location for many adventurers' stories.

In Obojima: Tales From The Tall Grass, you'll find pages and pages of rich lore, detailed maps, pre-generated characters, strange factions, unique locations, and more.  All of which is accompanied by breathtaking art to pull you deeper into the world. 

On the Island of Obojima, potion crafting is a useful skill that most adventures learn, but few master. LUCKILY, Potion Brewing has never been easier!

Hunt for any of the 100 + ingredients spread across the island and combine them to create custom potion recipes. With over 180 potions to brew, you'll be a seasoned adventure before you've crafted them all. That being said, you must be careful; some of these fabled ingredients are hard to obtain! Many experienced Brewmasters have lost themselves or worse in search of a rare ingredient.

Foul magic has begun to spread across Obojima's Eastern coastline!

The sea has turned black: the waters have begun to poison the sea life and corrupt the land. Rumors have spread amongst the spirits, but few claim to understand what's taking place on this strange island. What we can say for sure is this corruption has bestowed unlikely creatures with dangerous abilities. It has even affected some adventurers. 

Will you explore the coast and delve below the water's surface to uncover the cause of this dark affliction?

Play as an eclectic College of Masks bard and craft versatile theater masks to help you in any situation. Breathe life into paper constructs and control the battlefield as an Origami Mage. Harness the potent magic that has slowly begun to infect Obojima as the Corrupted Ranger.

Fully immerse yourself and your players in the world by using any of the new subclasses, spells, backgrounds, feats, weapon types, or player races. 

The numerous options will have you struggling to decide what to play.

Create unforgettable encounters using any of the 60+ new monsters only found on the island of Obojima. See if your players can catch the elusive and playful Sheep Dragon on one of the islands' rolling hillsides, or stay hidden as the dangerous and cruel Urugama haunts the roads between villages. Reveal these creatures' strange quirks or powerful abilities and watch as your players scream and shout in delight or shock!

Kickstarter campaign ends: Thu, August 31 2023 5:00 PM BST

Website: [1985 Games] [facebook] [twitter] [instagram]

[amidstcalamity]

The Classic Order symbol that soldiers, vehicles and buildings wear. It symbolizes freedom, peace and order, one that many civilians across the globe respects. The shield itself represents the defense against evil forces.

[valorousflower]

The Classic Order.

It was founded in 1632, around the times where the vast majority of the European colonists settled in America. The Desolation in the earliest 1600s had started their attacks in the country, and a Desolation Legend by the name of Timothy Wright, got to test his new Calamity Effect abilities on the land.

He moved with his family, and for the longest time he has kept his godlike abilities a secret from them. But then, upon discovering his atrocious actions on the innocents of America, they had left the him for good.

It was then overtime, as he went on missions with the Desolation to terrorize America, he saw the begs for mercy all around the towns and cities. Instead of living in glory, he didn't wish to do it any longer. Instead, oppose them.

Wright in order to change his ways formed the Classic Order, and he never died due to his Calamity Effect granting him agelessness; manipulating the loss of young age. Weapons, vehicles, armor and equipment had changed over the centuries, and with his ever-growing knowledge on war technology, had many steps ahead of the rest of the armies of the world.

The Classic Order became known as the only super elite fighting force. Throughout the history of mankind, many elite forces have been formed throughout the world, but none of them had the necessary training and firepower to take on the ever-powerful forces of the Desolation.

In the 2040s, the Classic Order pulls far ahead of the rest of the armies in terms of population, technology, weaponry, vehicles, training, and tactics. They have also introduced to the world the supersoldier serum that was stolen off of Desolation Elites' Tragedies, one that turned people into heroes. One had become a powerful Champion by the name of Dave Vincent "The Lightstrike", who survived two supersoldier serums, an extraordinary rarity.

The Classic Order has built base, fortresses, strongholds, and rarely superfortresses throughout the world to combat the Desolation threats there. Keeping the many civilians of the world safe from the Desolation and defeating the evil organization is their ultimate priority.

[missterious-figure]

The Legend of the Aurora Dragons

In the coldest regions of the world, amidst towering mountains and endless snowfields, there exists a creature of breathtaking beauty—the Aurora Dragons. Known far and wide for their shimmering, iridescent scales, these majestic beings shift in color as light touches them, dancing between hues of pink, blue, and purple like the very auroras that grace the night sky. 

It is whispered among the northern tribes that when the Aurora Borealis illuminates the heavens, it is not just celestial light but the dragons themselves, gliding gracefully across the sky. Their forms blend with the light, their wings outstretched as they soar through the frozen night. Only those who look close enough, and with eyes unclouded by doubt, may glimpse their radiant forms.

Legends tell that where the blood of an Aurora Dragon touches the earth, a miraculous ore grows—one imbued with the light of the auroras. Whether it be grass, stone, or barren ice, these glowing crystals rise from the ground, pulsing with the colors of the heavens. It is said that those who find and hold such a crystal are blessed with untold power, yet few are brave or lucky enough to witness such an event.

The origins of these enigmatic dragons are shrouded in mystery. Some believe they once lived among the stars, radiant guardians of the skies. In ancient times, they were thought to be dying stars, whose light had not yet faded, casting themselves down from the heavens before their time. Upon their fall, they took the form of dragons, their celestial essence preserved in the ever-shifting light of their scales. 

Their eggs, too, are a marvel beyond compare, resembling glowing gems—crystalline orbs that emit soft, colorful light, reminiscent of the auroras themselves. It is said that when these eggs hatch, they do not simply crack open like those of lesser creatures. Instead, they burst into a radiant flash of light so blinding that no mortal can look upon it. In that moment of brilliance, the dragon emerges, fully formed, while the egg itself dissolves into nothing, leaving no trace of its existence.

Aurora Dragons are said to be beings of pure light, able to harness and manipulate it for their own purposes. Some believe that when all the colors of their flames unite, a portal to another realm may open—a realm where light reigns eternal and darkness has no hold. Yet, this remains a tale unproven, a rumor passed down through generations.

Though their true nature—whether kind or cruel—remains a mystery, the people of the northern lands revere these dragons. Each year, they hold grand festivals in their honor, believing that the sighting of an Aurora Dragon brings good fortune, health, and prosperity. Offerings are made, songs are sung, and fires are lit, all in the hope that these celestial creatures will look kindly upon them from the night sky.

(Aaaaand das what I got for now! I may reblog if you are to answer this and add the abilities this dragon species got! Hope ya have fun reading!)

OMG!! The writing!? IT WAS SO GOOD! It really felt like I was reading some old scroll or book or something!! Damn!

The dragons themselves sound really cool! And beautiful! Wow! The wording was wonderful, and it was an effective way to go into the dragon's lore!!

[doumadono]

for sonnets event, can I please ask for a poem about a girl falling in love with Dabi?

SHONEN SONNETS

In shadows' grasp, where danger's whispers wove, A quirkless girl sought a soul to love. With innocence that bloomed like springtime's bloom, She danced on edges, flirting with her doom.

Dabi, a flame that flickered in the night, A villain's heart, obscured from purest light. Yet, in the shadows where their worlds entwined, A tale of love and risk began to bind.

Her quirkless heart, resilient, unafraid, Embraced a love society forbade. In his chaotic flames, she found a spark, A connection deep, beyond the shadows dark.

His gaze, a piercing, cerulean fire, Awakening in her a deep desire. In every scar that marked his tortured skin, She found a story, a world to begin.

Through dangers wild, their hearts began to soar, A love that dared defy the world's cruel lore. In villain's arms, she found a kindred fire, A passion fierce, a tale to inspire.

Her touch, a balm on scars of wicked past, A love forbidden, yet forever cast. Quirkless she may be, in power's disdain, But love, unyielding, breaks through every chain.

With every heartbeat, love's crescendo played, In sonnets sweet, their tale of passion swayed. A girl enamored, flames of love ablaze, In Dabi's arms, she found her fervent maze.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LIX

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. This chapter contains references to war and the consequences of it. Mind the tags from AO3 as always. Chapter on AO3 here.

You suppressed a shiver as you gazed out at the vast wasteland before you. Nothing but permafrost and evergreen pines for miles upon miles. For once, you cursed your mask; the metal was lined on the inside, but that did not prevent the bitter freeze from permeating. The wind shook your hood’s fur lining and you shifted your weight.

The strange box was hooked up to various generators, striking against the shining white snow and ice. Panels had opened to reveal conical pieces that faced towards the testing area.

Zandik pulled you away before you could ask questions, his grin as wide as the day he showed you the cello.

You were given no details and could only pick apart certain words spoken between the two Harbingers and their Archon. Your Snezhnayan was passable but it was not as though you’d put much time into trying; music was the true common tongue, in your opinion.

Alone, you were left to ponder Natlan’s landscapes and its people. Supposedly, the Archon and the supposed Sovereign, who served Murata for centuries prior, were unable to come to a resolution over a matter that captured the attention of their people. It reminded you of an old tale about an abducted queen whose disappearance caused a decade-long conflict so dramatic that even the gods themselves took sides. Zandik explained only that the people sided with the Sovereign while the military forces were aligned with the Archon; he corrected you when you called it a coup d'état, for the Sovereign was the true incumbent.

“Whose side are the Fatui on, then?” you had asked.

You could not see a clear side: both contained the common people merely fighting for a cause.

“We need only the Gnosis; it does not matter to us what side wins. But consider this: Liyue is without Morax, and Focalors is dead. The age of gods has passed. Doesn’t humanity deserve to control the narrative again?”

Zandik posed it in the same way he gestured to a question from the Captain, a hand open and his palm up, hiding nothing.

Your soulmate stepped away to once again check configurations before he took a place between you and the Tsaritsa. He reminded you less like the ravens that haunted the high towers of the palace and more like a peacock, head tilted slightly and shoulders back.

All it took was the press of a button.

The ground shook, a slight rumbling making its way through your body as the wasteland beyond began to crumble. An invisible hand cracked the permafrost, loosened soil and water, and then dragged its fingers through the forest; trees fell of their own accord, some uprooted while others snapped free of their trunks. Birds and squirrels and other wildlife scattered in a dusty haze of snow and dirt.

Your body retained the echoes of the vibrations, your very heart trembling, and when the debris settled, silence held the landscape in a death grip.

Absolute decimation.

And Zandik wore nothing but a prideful grin.

Large fissures and loosened ground were treacherous to navigate. Dispersed wildlife was both an ecological tragedy and a matter of food and resources.

What else would happen in another environment?

Your mind worked too quickly. Flooding, drought, both of which resulted in famine and displacement of people. In a city, the results would be devastating.

You’d felt such a sensation before that started in your chest and crawled down your limbs, the very fibers of your muscles vibrating as—

Zandik stepped forward and turned, addressing the Tsaritsa, his entire body angled at her.

“The full effects and consequences are in the notes I provided, which, upon approval, will be handed over to the Sovereign in exchange for a call for a ceasefire. During which, with myself and Pantalone present, we will demonstrate the weapon’s capabilities on a predetermined location; I believe that will be sufficient enough for Murata to hand over the Gnosis without further conflict. She may be passionate about the strategy of war but even she cares for her people enough to not let them suffer.”

He continued on but your ears were ringing now, pulse throbbing behind your eyes. You stared at Zandik and your stomach churned and your blood turned to ice, burning as it went. The image of him swam and thought not of the man hours earlier, nor the one who pressed a baton into your hand and showed you what it meant to feel powerful again.

You saw arrogance, disregard for all caught up in his web, one that you had woven for him every time he heard you play.

How you wished Celestia struck you down in that moment.

Fate was rarely ever so kind.

[dottymsatomic]

I Can Dream, Can't I?

The way this man has a vice grip on me. I cant.

I've been a die-hard Fallout fan since the '90s, playing Fallout 2 when I was just a kid. Let me tell you, Like Jason Bright and his Repconn ghouls, my love for the series has skyrocketed again in the last few weeks.

I'm very green to this community, but you'll have motivated me to dip my toes into writing my first-ever story. I'm totally immersed in the lore of the fallout universe, so of course, I wanted to create something with a tragic back story and very lore involved. Here I am putting out the synopsis to see if you folks were interested.

( Chapter 1 is 80% done, so you'll wont have to wait long.)

18+, Slow burn, F!reader , porn with a plot

Please go easy on me, I'm just a cinnamon roll with dyslexia.

I Can Dream, Can't I?

Title based on the song by the Andrews Sisters. About a man who will never belong to the singer.

Synopsis:

Death is the law of the wasteland. Tragedies write themselves into existence daily, and you are no mere footnote in this tale.  

Born a rancher's daughter, daring to dance with destiny by falling for father’s ghoul farmhand, sealing your love in secret vows. But fate, that cruel mistress, had other plans.

Enter the NCR, promising a haven free from bigotry and the stench of brahmin shit. With grit and determination, you embraced their militant offer, transforming from a humble farmer to the epitome of valor, earning the esteemed title of Ranger in record time.

Yet, duty beckoned, tearing you from the sanctuary you fought so hard to secure. As you ventured forth, your heart weighed heavy with the burden of leaving behind all you held dear. Alas, despite your valor, you couldn't shield your loved ones from the cruel hands of fate, watching helplessly as everything you cherished crumbled to dust.

In the aftermath of Shady Sands' demise, you found yourself adrift, a mere specter in a world's background radiation. Your life devoid of color or meaning. Aimlessly wandering the vast expanse of the Mojave, you sought solace in dealing cems and odd tasks, your spirit as desolate as the wasteland itself.

Then, akin to a rad storm tearing through the darkness, a lone cowboy sauntered into your world one fateful evening. In a daring move, you extended an invitation, sparking a dormant fire within your very being. In an instant, the world shed its harsh veneer, while his mere touch felt like the antidote your hardened heart craved for healing.

[cherrypikkins]

Here is my contribution to today's prompt from @fe-oc-week! Oct 13 - Joy

Once again with more Kitt lore :3

(cw blood, injury, body horror)

everything below the read more!

Gwyn, the Unsung Hero - Part II Though the story of Gwyn is little known in Fodlan society, one tale that has recently surfaced from obscurity is that of the Ghost of Annwen.

Legends say that the spirit of a fallen warrior sleeps for a hundred years at a time, deep beneath a lake hidden in the Oghma Mountains. When it wakes, it shows one of two faces - that of a great hero or a terrible demon. None may know which face it will show when it awakens - only that the world will be forever changed. Even in sleep, it guards the mountains, ensuring peace and order, answering the prayers of those who are in great danger. However, those who dare incite violence and tragedy within the ancient sanctuary will be hunted down without mercy by the Demon of Annwen.

There was a time in ancient history when it brought unfathomable destruction and chaos to Fodlan, and was condemned to death for its misdeeds.

And yet, there was another time when it saved Fodlan from certain doom, sacrificing itself in the process.

The hero is just and fair as much as the demon is cruel and wretched, so says the tale. So different in their natures, yet they are bound together, trapped to wander this mortal realm in a hopeless, never-ending search for salvation. But what is the true meaning of the 'salvation' that it seeks? How does one grant salvation to that which is already dead?

Once there was a scholar who penned this tale in full, even citing evidence that attributes this tale to Gwyn, the Unsung Hero of Annwen. However, this script has since been struck by the Church, under the orders of Seteth. How strange that such a simple tale would be condemned as blasphemy under the eyes of Seiros.

Supposedly, the librarian Tomas took such an interest in the tale that he traveled to the Oghma Mountains for months at a time to visit the village of Annwen, hoping to learn more. In recent years, he seems to have returned to his duties working at the Garreg Mach library full-time. When asked of his research, he said that his efforts bore little fruit - it seems that the so-called 'Ghost of Annwen' is little more than a fanciful story.

These days, it seems more and more likely that no such spirit exists today - for Demonic Beasts now roam and rampage the once tranquil mountainside where Annwen formerly stood, and there is neither a hero nor a demon present to keep the peace. And yet, those brave enough to venture into the forbidden wilderness will find it mysteriously strewn with corpses - that of both monsters and sinister mages garbed in masks and dark robes.

The Capricious One - Part IV Of all Nabateans, the Capricious One was said to be the most talented in their ability to shapeshift and transform.

They even had the ability to suppress the power of their Nabatean blood, hiding their Crest in order to better assume the guise of a common beast or a human.

Some said they were the weakest amongst their family. Others said they simply preferred to keep their true strengths hidden, and were not to be underestimated.

Little did the Children of the Goddess know, that so great was their power to transform that they could split their physical forms voluntarily, with each part fully alive and able to act independently of the other. But to do so repeatedly and for extended periods of time would invite confusion. Changes in personality. Distorted memories. A loss of self. And eventually, madness. Thus, whether in form or in spirit, all parts must one day rejoin, lest existence itself become unbearable.

The only one who knew of this power was the Hammer of Judgment. When the two were younger, he saw that the Capricious One was eager to test their limits, and so asked his sibling, "Do you not fear losing yourself forever?" The Capricious One laughed at this and answered, "To remember who I am, I need only to look towards The Beginning."

Now, Sothis is gone, leaving behind nary a beacon to guide a lost and shattered soul from the depths of madness. And to this day, there exist countless Demonic Beasts that carry even the smallest essence of the Capricious One's blood in their veins. With each one felled, they reclaim a part of themselves, that even in death they may someday become whole once more.

[riririnnnn]

What the family lore about the girlfriend fc— I'm curious???

Ah, a curious fellow seems to have greet me today. What a pleasant surprise! Very well, please help yourself with a cup of tea as I recount the beautiful tale of our family.

It was a lovely day. Sun felt warm against my skin while the butterflies outside kissed all the pretty flowers in my garden. Wind was mellow as I hummed a tune along with the little bird friends of mine.

Then suddenly, a soft thud broke this peace.

There was a knock on my door.

Not expecting any visitor that day, I was a bit suspicious.

With light footsteps, I made my way to cautiously open the door.

And to my surprise, I was met by a beautiful bouquet on my doorstep.

I was taken aback by the beauty of it. It lured me in like sirens calling out for sailors. I quickly picked it up and by doing so, a letter fell down.

My interest was piqued.

I hurriedly opened it and what was revealed in front of me is something that still gives me goosebumps.

Shimmering in beautiful gold ink, it was an invitation specially written by none other than @galaxynajma, the co-founder of the most powerful football team to have ever reigned in the world of football.

And yes.

It was an invitation for me to join the said powerful team, Girlfriend FC.

I was thrilled.

I was overjoyed.

My heartbeat picked up pace as I read the words over and over. My hands shook with joy.

And just like that, I embarked on my journey to be the best midfielder the world have ever seen.

I won't lie, the training regime was difficult—it was the most powerful team for a reason after all. Everyone had to fight tooth and nail. Rest was something that felt like a luxury, but despite the harshness, I never quit because I knew it was worth it in the end.

Then one faithful day, a gentle soul bumped into me.

I winced in surprise and tried to help her.

But just as our eyes met, the time stopped. The background turned white and my throat became parched. A buzz sound ran inside my head as a warm feeling spread inside my chest—I had never felt such belongingness, I had never felt such home.

"Bue," a weak whisper escaped my lips.

"Riri," replied the tender voice.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

It was my twin, @bueris.

The cruel strings of our fate had separated us, but those same strings had spun a path that led us to find eachother again.

We wasted no time and engulfed eachother in our arms. We cried out the emptiness we had left in our hearts when fate decided to wedge an invisible wall between us.

I had been finally reunited with my twin sister.

We stayed together after that. We practiced together. We trained together. We did everything together.

And just like that, we got accepted in the team together.

We were overjoyed as we showcased our power together—the whole world was in awe. They had never seen such a pair of twins. They chanted praises to us and showered us with love. They made statues in our honour. They crowned us with their highest title.

However.

Despite everything, a hand was missing that fondly caressed our hair and cared for our well-being without expecting anything in return. There was something missing in our lives.

And that's when one afternoon, the Sun shined the brightest in the empire of Girlfriend FC. The wind whispered in a language that no one had heard before. Something was going to happen.

I held @bueris in my arms as we waited with bated breaths.

The thick white smoke that had blinded everyone, slowly dispersed as two angels descend down.

They both outstretched their hand for us to hold.

We were skeptical, but there was a warm glow of softness that we couldn't bear to refuse.

And when we felt their touch, everything made sense.

It was our Mamas, @someprettyname and @hooudie212. They left the comfort of heaven to answer the prays of our solemn hearts.

And now, we all are a happy family.