𝚝𝚑𝚎 ᵉᶜʰᵒ 🄲🄷🄰🄼🄱🄴🅁: 𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 || possible NSFW

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welcome to the echo chamber a tiny corner on the interwebs to store the many ideas that take up residence in my mind... ​

 

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"The general who became a slave. The slave who became a gladiator. The gladiator who defied an emperor. Striking story! But now, the people want to know how the story ends... — Commodus" War had always been a method of settling arguments between mankind for aeons and the Romans had learned the Art of War just as well as any Empire. More than a few Conquers had come and gone over the decades and in this tale, Marcus Aurelius had done the difficult part. He had conquered the barbaric tribes of the North, allowing for some sort of respite for the armies of the empire. Commodus learned this the hard way and turned out to be nothing more than a boy, trapped in a man's body and his greatest sin had been his Pride. The son of Lucius Aurelius Verus, Lucius Anthes Decimus had strived to hold to the wishes of the great Marcus Aurelius, his uncle, and keep the empire together without further unneeded bloodshed. Most of the Germanic lands had found that life under Roman rule had been very prosperous for them so there had been no need for rebellion. Under a just Emperor and one who gave just as much as they took from their people, a peace like no other could have been had for all. But greed and pride have a way of slithering their way into the narrative of the Histories of the Mortal Man. Power, once tasted by those who sought to claim it, finds themselves craving more. Few can withstand the lure of such a thing and those few were rare creatures indeed. Good intentions have a way of finding themselves twisted by those who can make their voice louder than the one of reason, leaving its mark on the land and leaving the people to suffer. In the days since the death of her father, Emperor Lucius Anthes Decimus, a once decorated Conqueror and Peacekeeper of quite a few lands in the Roman Empire, Empress Claudia Lucina Anthes, the first and only daughter tried her best to sit in the shadows and out of the probing eyes of her brother. Her villa had been on the outskirts of Rome in Tivoli and she preferred the distance with the ability to keep her ear close enough to the city. Plots within plots as plans began to form and bloom into fruition. Intrigues and rumours spread wide of assassinations that were designed for a few heads of state and Lydia was sure that her name had found its way on one of the hitlists. The only question was, when would these plots be played out? ​ P L O T | I N F O: N A M E: Empress Claudia Lucina Anthes F A T H E R: Emperor Lucius Anthes Decimus, son of Lucius Aurelius Verus (can explain more in-depth if interested) S I B L I N G: Lucus Anthes Quintus, current Emperor of Rome P R E M I S E: Emperor Lucius has passed in battle, a tragedy that could have been avoided but alas, it was not meant to be. Leaving behind legitimate heirs, though had found the son wanting, (I know, I know, just like the movie). Anyway, Empress Claudia is not only the sister to the ruler of Rome, but she also detests her brother and how he has been running the lands that had been so painfully collected to the ground. Many of Rome's men are loyal to the empress, as is the majority of the Senate. The problem therein lies with the people of Rome. She is beloved, sure, intelligent, aye, but she is also one who knows how to read her opponent. Having been against the Games herself, feeling that the men who battled and lost their lives in the arena, could have been used for far better things. (I know what you're thinking, you perv!) But really. Soldiers. A chance for the men to earn their citizenship through service. To her. Finding that the buying of slaves who knew their way around a sword and using them not only in the games but also as a means to glean information. Most are willing when it is their freedom or their lives. Granted, they're Gladiators eventually, but fighting for the empress has its perks.. Anyhum, I am going to close this now and come back to it when my brain isn't so fried. I would like for this to be a love story, where the empress falls for the gladiator she frees. Had to have the other stuff in there as more of a filler for the plot, but all can be worked out via messaging if there is an interest. <shrugs>

 

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❝ Here rise to life again, dead poetry! Let it, O holy Muses, for I am yours, And here Calliope, strike a higher key, Accompanying my song with that sweet air which made the wretched Magpies feel a blow that turned all hope of pardon to despair ❞ — Dante, "Purgatorio", Canto I, lines 7 to 12​ Most know of the Muse, Calliope, or Kalliope as being the Muse of Epic Poetry. Her fame and beauty were said to rival that of Aphrodite herself. Hesiod and Ovid called her the "Chief of all Muses" and her story is a fantastical one. (If you haven't read it, you should. It's brilliant.) What happens if a Muse loses her... Muse? A much-needed vacation perhaps? Maybe one of the Greats finally got bored and decided to use her own powers for herself? Ya know, get a little more recognition for all of her efforts? Mayhaps she's been assigned to a mortal that has been Fated for greatness but the other Muse's were able to stoke his talent into rising to the surface so the mortal can achieve their destiny? I am leaving this relatively open, but the idea of a Muse, especially one like Kalliope, taking a moment to either find herself, make a name for herself, or even find an epic love struck me as a potential Musing that should be explored. The details can be discussed and I may add the already 'predetermined/thunk'd out' scenario's at a later date.​ ​

 

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"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..." ~ Bram Stoker In ages not yet come to pass, Shall the soul return, Of the Goddess... Many deaths shall she face, Returning to Clotho each time, But in one lifetime shall she meet her Fate... How their Love is rare and true, She can be found in Oneiros And only then will she find you...​ We all know the fabled tale of Hades and his Persephone, yes? Fabulous tale laced with trauma, heartbreak, and all of the goodness that creates a wonderful story. I rather like to think that Persephone went willingly to the Underworld and ate the pomegrante seeds on purpose, just so she would have an excuse to stay. But what if... Demetre, never fully accepting the Fate of her daughter, had devised a plan to free Persephone from the prison she believed her to be in. While tucked away in the Underworld, safe in the arms of the God she loved, Persephone had been oblivious to the schemes of her mother. Olympus having gone quiet for some time with the loss of faith in mankind, had kept Hades rather busy with the new arrivals in the Underworld in which he ruled. There had truly never been a lack of faith in him. Striking an accord with Kratos, Demetre has him sit in waiting while she stands, ready to greet her daughter after her time spent in the realm of the Dead. With a look of sadness that Persephone had immediately picked up on, she embraces her daughter, one last time. "Please, forgive me, child," she whispered through silent tears that had fallen down her cheeks and into her daughter's hair. "I do this to save you..." Once those words were out of her mouth, Kratos revealed himself. Before Persephone could do anything to defend herself, having been caught completely off guard by the ploy of her mother, the hammer had fallen and found its mark. With her dying breath, Persephone cursed them both to walk the world in agony for the crime they had committed against her. Making sure to not lose her daughter for good, Demetre negotiated a deal with the youngest sister of Fate, Klothos. Her threads of Human Life. As a celestial being, the thread of the Divine can truly never be destroyed, only redisbursed. The mother of the goddess would rather see her daughter cast and recast through the wheel of time as a mortal than to see her trapped in the Underworld with someone who spends his time with dead people. Trapped in the Threads of Clotho, Persephone has been caught in the mortal webs cast out by the Fates who weave them. For centuries, Hades searched for his beloved, and every time he almost reclaimed her, she slipped through his fingers like the sands of the Sahara. Now, as the mortal Kore St. Lawerence, Hades has devised a plan to find her, win her, and make her remember her true self. Who she was meant to be. The question is... Will they be reunited, or will she choose a mortal life?​

 

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Desperate for a fresh start, Elena Carter moves into a tiny, run-down studio apartment on the outskirts of the city. It's the kind of place that makes her mother's voice ring in her head—"You can do better than this." But she can't. Not now. Not after him. The apartment is cheap, suspiciously so. The landlord is an older man with averted eyes who barely speaks as he hands her the keys. He mutters something about the unit being vacant for years, but when she asks why, he only shrugs. The space is suffocatingly small—just a bed, a kitchenette, and a door that leads to a too-dark bathroom. The air smells stale, as if it's been waiting too long for someone to breathe life into it. But Elena doesn't care. She is exhausted—mentally, emotionally, in ways that make her bones ache. She spends the first few nights crying herself to sleep. The weight of the past clings to her like an unwanted second skin. The echoes of his voice still slither through her mind. The bruises have faded, but the memories remain. Then the dreams begin. The first time, she wakes feeling... strange. As if she had been touched, though she is alone. The dream lingers in pieces—a shadow standing over her, a faceless figure. He didn't speak, but she remembers the feeling of being watched. The second night, the dream is clearer. He is there—featureless, but present. She should be afraid, but she isn't. Not at first. His presence is almost soothing, a strange comfort against the loneliness she has been drowning in. Then the third night comes. This time, he doesn't just watch. He takes. She wakes gasping, body trembling. It was just a dream... wasn't it? But the feeling lingers—the press of hands that never existed, the phantom weight of something that should not be there. And then, as she turns onto her side, she sees them. Fingerprints. On her skin. Dark, blooming in places he had touched. The dreams do not stop. Sometimes, the faceless man is gentle, his presence almost protective. Other times, he is not. He takes what he wants, leaving her breathless, confused, and dependent. Elena tells herself it isn't real. That she is just vulnerable, that her mind is playing tricks on her. But then she starts noticing things. ~The sheets are rumpled when she wakes, though she fell asleep still. ~The closet door, always closed, now stands slightly open. ~And then there's the whisper she swears she hears before she sleeps. A voice like static in the dark. "Mine." She begins to wonder about the last tenant. The one no one talks about. And as the nights stretch on, she starts to fear that she is not the first. She is simply the next.

 

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currently in play, but it's pretty, so adding.

She wakes up in a hospital bed with no memory of who she is or how she got there. Her body aches like it's been through a violent car accident, but oddly, there are no broken bones. Only two long, symmetrical scars down her back, as though something once protruded there and was violently ripped away. She's given a name by the hospital—"Eve Doe"—and is released when no relatives or ID can be found. Confused, vulnerable, and haunted by dreams of falling through the endless light, Eve tries to piece things together. That's when YC enters the picture. He claims to be a trauma volunteer who helps people with memory loss. But the truth, is he is a fallen angel. Years ago, he gave up his place in Heaven for someone he loved—a mortal woman whose soul had been torn away by the very demon who had been hunting him. He could not save her... Time in Heaven flows differently. What had been years for him, had only been mere weeks for Eve. He recognizes her as "Yael"—an angel of vengeance and compassion. Her fall wasn't an accident; it was a choice. But, she can't remember why... He knows that newly fallen angels are vulnerable, they attract demonic predators seeking to either corrupt or destroy them. Since her fall, Eve is unknowingly drawing the attention of one such demon, Marek, who had been responsible for the death of YC's beloved. Marek seeks to finish what he started and drag Eve into Hell. Haunted by his own failure and loss, he vows to protect her. Had he been the reason she took the Plunge? Or had there been a more insidious scheme, hatched by none other than the very demon that hunts them both?

 

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In talks, but adding because same reason. It's pretty.

❝"You hit me to end me. But all you did was wake me up."❞​ After a near-fatal blow in the ring and a brutal betrayal by the man she loved and trusted most—her coach—disgraced boxer Reyna Cruz is ready to hang up the gloves for good. But when an old friend from her past resurfaces, she's reminded of who she was before love turned into a weapon, and who she still could be if she dares to rise again. Reyna Cruz was a rising star in the boxing world—undefeated, fierce, and trained by the man she loved, her coach and long-time boyfriend, Ethan Vale. Under his guidance, she climbed the ranks, her power and precision unmatched. But in her last title fight, something went wrong. Terribly wrong. The woman across the ring, Kiara "K.O." Marten, exploited every flaw in Reyna's game. It was like she knew her too well—every feint, every tell. Reyna took a brutal hit that sent her into emergency surgery and months of recovery, both physical and emotional. In her hospital bed, she learns the truth: Kiara wasn't just a challenger. She was Ethan's secret lover. The betrayal is gutting—not just because of the infidelity, but because Ethan had helped engineer her downfall. He'd trained Reyna... then whispered her secrets into her opponent's ear. Broken and disillusioned, Reyna vanishes from the public eye, her gloves packed away in a box labelled never again. Just when she's settling into a life of silence and shadows, he walks back in. Her childhood friend and first love, who had disappeared from her life when Ethan declared him a distraction. A fellow boxer-turned-coach, he sees the fire in her eyes isn't gone—it's just buried beneath pain and betrayal. He lays it out plainly: "You don't walk away. You fight. You fight for every hit they took at you, and every lie they built around your heart. You destroy them the way they tried to destroy you. But this time, you don't do it alone." With his support, Reyna begins to rebuild. She trains in secret, out of the spotlight, out of Ethan's reach. The chemistry between them ignites again—tender, but edged with years of regret and missed chances. The road back to the ring is hell. Reyna fights through PTSD, anger, and fear—not just of getting hit again, but of trusting someone with her heart. But as the comeback fight approaches, the fire returns. In a brutal, high-stakes match against Kiara—one that feels more like justice than sport—Reyna holds her own. This time, she's not fighting just for a belt. She's fighting for herself. And in the crowd, he watches, eyes fierce and full of something that feels a lot like love.​

 

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In the high-octane world of Formula 1, a fierce and rising star—Valentina Moreau—fights for victory, respect, and her heart as she navigates a male-dominated sport, a scandalous rivalry, and a forbidden romance with her team's exiled golden boy. Valentina Moreau is the first female driver to secure a permanent seat with the prestigious Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team. At just 26, she's become a media sensation not only for her fierce driving style and tactical brilliance, but also for her unapologetic personality and radiant charisma. The world sees her as a symbol of breaking boundaries—what they don't see is the immense pressure crushing her behind the scenes. Her debut season starts strong, until tensions rise with her cold and calculating teammate, Klaus Reinhardt, who views her as a PR stunt threatening his legacy. Their rivalry escalates both on and off the track, culminating in a near-fatal crash during a qualifying lap that sparks an FIA investigation and shakes the entire team. Enter him, the exiled former Mercedes star who was suspended after a mysterious scandal two seasons ago. A ghost in the paddock, he returns as a temporary consultant—his punishment quietly lifted, but his career is in limbo. He's brooding, brilliant, and dangerous in every sense of the word—and he's the only one who seems to truly understand Valentina's inner chaos. Their chemistry is instant. Unwanted. Electric. But as they grow closer—hidden glances in the paddock, midnight strategy meetings that turn into something more—Valentina discovers his secrets about Klaus, the team, and her own recruitment she was never meant to know. As the championship nears its end, and sabotage within her own team threatens to end her career, Valentina must decide: Does she protect her heart—or risk everything to expose the truth?

 

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The Garden of Eden is not a simple paradise, but a living, breathing realm of divine design. Its beauty is overwhelming—sunlight falls like gold upon flowers that sing, rivers whisper riddles, and the very trees pulse with celestial life. Eve walks in this eternal dawn, first of her kind, her skin kissed by starlight, her soul unmarked by shame or fear. She is not alone, but she is untouched. Adam is a mirror, a companion, but he offers no fire, no reflection of her deep and growing questions. The world is perfect—and yet, something is missing. That is when He appears. He is not a beast. Not truly. He moves like smoke and shadow between the trees—sometimes a voice without form, other times a man with eyes like polished obsidian and a tongue that tastes like honey and sin. He is old. He is patient. And he has been watching her since the beginning. They say he was once the brightest of angels. He does not offer the fruit immediately. That would be too crude. Instead, he offers her conversation. He speaks of the stars, of creation, of the fire that the gods keep hidden from mortals. He delights in her questions. He tells her stories Adam never could. He sees her mind—hungry, wild, divine in its own right—and he feeds it. He does not ask her to disobey. He merely asks her to wonder. She is not a simple figure of temptation—she is intelligent, inquisitive, and slowly awakening to the vast, veiled truths of the cosmos. Each meeting with Him peels back another layer of innocence, another veil from her eyes. He speaks not just to her body, but her soul. Their interactions are a dance, close, but never touching. He never pressures, only invites. He praises her questions, her boldness, her uniqueness. She begins to see herself not just as a creation, but as a creatrix. The fire she sees in his eyes begins to burn in her chest. And when he finally brings her to the Tree... it is not a trick. It is an offering. "Take it, if you wish," he murmurs. "Not for me. Not for Adam. Not even for Him. But for you..."

 

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"There are doors that do not open with keys. There are pleasures that do not soothe. And there are desires that, once awakened, do not sleep." In a crumbling old city where gaslamps flicker through wet, cobbled streets and unseen things move in alley shadows, there exists a myth—whispered among collectors of the obscure, those who haunt antique shops and secret salons. It tells of The Velvet Labyrinth, a ritual-bound, otherworldly space said to offer transcendence to those who dare seek its hidden entrance. Not merely pleasure. Not merely pain. But revelation. She is a seeker—whether a scholar of esoterica, a disillusioned artist, or simply someone numb from the ordinary. She has always felt haunted by something—some yearning without a name. When she uncovers an ornate puzzle-box in an underground gallery, she feels it pulse in her hands like a living thing. She solves it. Not all at once—but in fragments, dreams, whispers. And when she does… The veil tears. He is not human—not anymore. Once a man who pursued extremes of sensation, he has become something other in the wake of entering the Labyrinth long ago. No longer bound by flesh alone, he is a creature shaped by ritual, desire, and torment—a dark guide, perhaps a warden, or perhaps the architect of the Labyrinth itself. He comes to her—not to take her, but to test her. To awaken what lies dormant inside. But something about her unsettles him. She reminds him of the man he once was, before his transformation. And she, in turn, finds herself drawn to him not in fear—but in longing.