#'souls' from birth to the grave.

[junonreactor]

hm

[godjo]

✮ — altar girl.

hasn’t it been written that wherever the fire of evil blazes, a god will be there to douse it? but who saves the damned if a god kindled the fire?

tags — true form!sukuna x concubine/f!reader. 3k wc. explicit smut. dubcon at first (trust me in this one pls). exhibitionism. thigh riding. doggy style. manhandling. rough sex. womb fucking. humongous cock!sukuna (hello???). multiple orgasms. mindbreak. drool. cunnilingus bordering on tongue-fucking. orgasm denial once. he carries you. creampie. lots of cum. fuckton of religious symbolism. physical violence against the reader but not from sukuna. sukuna calls you brat like one time. minors, ageless, and blank blogs dni.

from hunter — not to be dramatic or whatever but i do feel like this fic took a huge chunk off of my sanity … the things i do for sukuna omg … if this flops i will officially retire from tumblr /j + also it's 3 am for me so i didn't proofread the last bits and i prolly got lazy ... ha ha ... ✮

gods exist. 

the annals of history tell us so.

they exist in a way that no mortal can comprehend, for a god is more than a face. they leave their imprints not with their feet but with the rise and fall of dynasties, the ruination of empires, and the death of kings. they materialize as the birth of a deluge and they rise as the reason for war. it is not the body that proves their existence but the carnage they leave behind. 

they have manifested before human eyes through myriad guises, and once again incarnated in the flesh of ryomen sukuna. 

many have met their untimely demise at his hands; he walks the earth with their tormented souls at his feet. from village to village, their numbers increased until a procession of weeping thickened behind him. hundreds of graves mark the land since his advent, and yet the heavens remain deaf to the hysterical prayers for justice. only he can hear the prayers; only he laughs at them. 

they say he is a devil. you say he is a god. because only a god can saturate the earth with blood and emerge unpunished from such transgression. hasn’t it been written that wherever the fire of evil blazes, a god will be there to douse it? but who saves the damned if a god kindled the fire? 

ryomen sukuna, in a form of some twisted mockery, decides to act the part. and so like every famished god, he demands a sacrifice to satisfy his voracious appetite. you would think that a house of gold would placate his hunger for blood, but riches mean nothing to him. his appetite needs flesh and it is flesh he got. 

“have i been too lenient that you’d dare fight amongst yourselves when i’m not around?” his voice reverberates inside the room. low, guttural, and pregnant with malice. it is enough to scorch everyone’s lungs with tension. 

you want to run away from this nightmare. go back to the peaceful bliss of mundanity when sukuna is only a piece of horrifying tale used to frighten children and not an absolute being seated cross-legged mere inches away. you try transporting your mind back to the days before his pillaging, before your village succumbed to his authority. yet his pervasive presence obstructs all your pathetic attempts at nostalgia. 

“look at what you did to the poor girl.” two of his four hands sweep you from your position to his lap, parading you to the rest of tearful eyes looking at him with entreaty. 

and it stings— their eyes. you’re in the claw of a savage hound from hell, ready to be devoured, with only your hadajuban as protection. even in this pitiful state, they offer no sympathy. their tears are for themselves alone despite their cruelty being the reason for your shared plight.

selfish bitches. 

“was it jealousy that caused this infighting? have i not divided my attention to all of you equally?” sukuna continuously taunts, lacing his voice with poisonous prudence. he fools no one and that’s what urges him forward. everyone knows that his seemingly laidback attitude is plain derision. nonetheless, he tastes the lingering hope in each of your faces before dragging his teeth along such pathetic daydreams.

“y… you have, my lord,” one of the women answers, her voice betraying a noticeable stutter. “if you would permit me to speak, i can offer his lordship an explanation for what transpired in the courtyard.”

sukuna emits a languid sigh as he rests his cheek upon his fist. he runs a rough hand down your arm, triggering vibration in the pit of your stomach. his hand is as huge as your face, his fingers long enough to snap your neck with ease. despite the surge of terror, you fight the urge to retch.

after a moment of battling your dread, it’s repulsion that filled you afterwards. repulsion rising from the woman’s explanation for your wretched state. the rest of the women nod their heads along with her account of how you tripped on a slippery stone multiple times, causing your current injuries, as if you’re a toddler who cannot orient her legs properly. 

they will save themselves with falsehood. 

sukuna yawns after the woman’s narration. his set of eyes seeking you after in the silence. 

“this matter is of your stupidity, then? you’ve wasted my time, brat.” he dips his cadence in amusement and disgust. 

anger flares within you, filling your nose and ears with the bitter scent of hatred, yet its heat descended down your throat, dampening your ability to defend yourself. what is one against many? there are twenty concubines in this room and nineteen of them just sold you to your demise for unintentionally raising this trifle to the lord of the land.

all of this— all of this merely because they have immersed themselves in playing a game in which you’ve been excluded since your arrival. after all, you’re just another competition for sukuna’s attention. 

“have mercy, my lord,” you whisper, on the verge of losing your sentience. “i… i mean no disrespect. it’s… it’s stupid of me—”

sukuna drawls, “speak no more of your nonsense. i have heard enough.” 

distressed apologies race past your mouth, along with entreaties that he spares your life. but you should’ve known that a god won’t turn his back on the sacrifice of blood. 

thus, when his enormous body finally moves to encase your fragility, you close your eyes and with jittering teeth have accepted your fate. you wait for the final release of death, a snap or his fist through your heart, but none came. instead, at your feet lay your torn garments, casting your nakedness before the other concubines in a humiliating display. the crisp air blows against your nipples, causing them to pucker tight. the same air turns your blood gelid, your bones immovable. 

“now, let’s see what all the fuss is about.” from behind, sukuna gropes your breasts, swirling the tips of your nipples with his fingers. “i’ll kill anyone who looks away.” the warning is vehement, ripe with threat, that even mere insects won’t dare defy it. 

is this the ultimate act of worship? to be stripped of all your layers? to be eaten?

his lips latch onto the bareness of your neck, sharp teeth dragging across the skin. the silence is thick, saved for the sound of your uneven breathing and the rustling of fabric as the concubines shift uncomfortably on their seats. sukuna’s wet and unusually long tongue starts licking the base of your shoulder to the back of your ear, before placing his thick and robust thigh between your quivering legs. 

your exposed cunt sticks to his skin, pussy folds flapping open. with practiced ease, as if manipulating the strings of a marionette, he subtly guided your movements. he has your pulsing clit riding the ridges of his thigh as if gushing all over will save you from inevitable demise. 

“m… mhm!” no longer entirely in control of your own form, you turn and sway in a helpless dance to his hands’ command. a gasp tinged with surprise and undeniable pleasure, escapes your lips and echoes softly in the confines of the room. you feel the searing heat of the concubines’ gazes drilling into you, a tangible weight of disapproval and something more primal — a flicker of envious fascination.

“for a condemned woman, aren’t you loving this too much?” sukuna takes the reins to your body. with speed that has your heavy tits bouncing, he secures your waist and drags your slick pussy faster and more recklessly. 

pleasure, sharp and electric at first, surges through your core, blossoming outwards like a firework. your cunt clenches and unclenches involuntarily, a delicious tremor wracking your body. the world narrows, sound and sight fading at the edges as every nerve ending sings with a single, glorious purpose. slowly, the intensity ebbs to leave a pleasant afterglow that paints your limbs with a newfound weight.

you’re but a tiny speck compared to sukuna’s imposing body; a feeble creature under the jurisdiction of a god. 

possessive hands have found you in your fleeting refuge, scooping your lower body up like you weigh nothing. with the tip of his finger he traces the curve of your spine, pressing enough weight to flatten your stomach against the tatami mat. 

“even your back is filled with lacerations,” he points out brusquely.

sukuna’s hefty cock drops to the base of your spine, its puffed up cocktip lazily pulsing to leak his thick liquids of pre-ejaculate. it must’ve been a whole arm laying heavy against your spine, warm with a gluttonous desire to ram itself through the sloppy confines of your pussy. 

and you lay there, waiting for his teeth and his claws and his animalistic hunger to devour. he presses his chest to your back, filling your ears with promises that he’s going to feed on you, eat you down to the marrow of your bones— and you’ll love it. 

“look at them,” sukuna hisses as he tugs at your forehead, “i want you to look at them while i fuck you.”

with your flesh you’ve received him like some kind of communion from root to tip. he hammers your cunt with his cock, until the heat of his savage lust reaches the pit of your belly. you feel his warmth soiling your cervix and uterus with every vigorous thrust. 

“oh! m… mhm!”  completely overtaken by sukuna, your thighs can only twitch as he destroys your insides. 

“you’re soaking wet,” he groans in your ear, deliberately adjusting his pace so he can coat his thick girth all over with your creamy hole, “and so fucking tight.” 

sukuna grunts like a wounded animal each time his cocktip kisses the smooth spot of your womb. a sheen of sweat glazes his body, tattoos aglow in the lanterns, from manically fucking your cunt. he bares his fangs whenever you tighten around his shaft enfolded with prominent and proud veins. 

the once vibrant forms of the concubines, their faces alight with prurient interest, dissolve into a sea of indistinct shapes as fog descends upon your sight. you’ve been reduced to a babbling and drooling mess, unable to grasp the reality that you’re being mounted and fucked to madness before several witnesses.

sukuna extends his hand, searching for your abandoned clit during his primal need to turn your pussy to pulp. 

“there it is,” he breathes against your clammy cheek, satisfied at his discovery. 

“n… no! not there…!” you pant as the last thread of reason frays and snaps. 

a tempestuous force of pleasure sweeps through you, leaving behind a tremor that has shaken you to the core. around you, a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations spins until a guttural moan runs from your lips, delivered by the exquisite torment of rapture. your nails scrape desperately across the tatami mat, clinging at the remnants of spilled sanity. 

sukuna cackles at your desperation to find a moment’s reprieve. the roughened end of his fingers dip into your yielding flesh as he forcefully slams your pussy back to his cock.  

“you’re not going anywhere,” he pronounces frenziedly, his eyes blowing wide. sukuna’s desperation for release intensifies to the point where he’s blatantly manhandling you, brutalizing your cunt and his cock during the process of reaching zenith. flesh meets flesh, fervid thrusts after fervid thrusts, until he feels that familiar coil in his own stomach. 

sukuna plugs your abused cunt with inconceivable amounts of cum. his cock pulses wildly, shooting globules straight to your womb it’s almost physically possible to feel his viscous cum filling every crevice of your uterus. when he’s finally pulled out, ropy cum still links his raw cocktip to your pulsing pussy hole. despite such a mind-numbing culmination, sukuna’s cock refuses to yield. it springs up proudly, aching for another taste.  

“what a sight,” sukuna issues with cavernous and demonic utterance, pertaining to your body lying inert upon the tatami mat. he sweeps the sodden hair from his brow with a lordly air, his pride evident in the contemptuous curve of his lips. 

look at the state he’s reduced you to. his thick ejaculation pools around your lower body because your little pussy can’t hold all of him. with an indifferent shrug, sukuna lowers his formidable body to your level. and only when the malevolent glint in his eyes becomes apparent does the gravity of the situation dawn upon you.

he starts fucking your cunt with his tongue.

you grit your teeth in response as sukuna places your knees upon his shoulders, burying the slimy width of his tongue in your heated pussy. it’s no mere licking— he’s practically shoved his tongue up your gummy walls, toying with the warmth of his cum pooled in your poor cunt while simultaneously licking your puffed up clit. 

“o… oh! c… can’t— please, please!” drool seeps between your gritted cuspids after your hysterical plea.

pearlescent tears warm the corner of your eyes. your sensitivity from his rigorous fucking has not yet abated, but another swell of release approaches at a hand’s reach. down to your heart, the bundles of nerves and veins constrict painfully because it’s too much. you have nowhere else to put the pleasure— the imminent pinnacle will utterly ruin you.

i’m losing my mind

i’m losing my mind

i’m losing my mind—

when ecstasy is but a heartbeat away, sukuna withdraws, denying you the finality your body craves. as if saved from drowning, you suck in and grace your lungs with air only to be propelled back to the brink of delirium when he lifts you up from the floor like a breeze. 

with carnal ferocity, he seizes the meaty flesh of your haunches with two of his limbs, while the others secure your torso. there and there, sukuna slots his insatiable cock in your dribbling cunt; an act that he’s accomplished without effort because you’re so wet, he’s slid right in. 

everyone has witnessed sukuna’s cock abusing your tingling pussy; all can see how he bounces your tingling cunt along his stiff length without strain. 

“yes… squeeze my cock like the obedient girl you are,” he sibilates on your face, followed by a harsh chuckle. “you can’t hear me now, can you?”

the voice is a distant echo, barely perceptible to your waning senses. your body, devoid of strength, limps completely in sukuna’s embrace. he buries his face in the crooks of your damped neck, groaning and babbling as he ruts into your swollen pussy. 

“how come you’re still so fucking tight?”

hasn’t he prepared you for his sheer girth? hasn’t he stimulated your pussy enough to hug his cock smoothly and effortlessly? you’ve already coated his balls shiny with all the slick your cunt has produced, but sukuna’s chest tightens because you’re milking him with a viselike grip. 

yes, it is human that he’s even affected by this carnal desire. what more can he do? he feels faint with exultation merely by fucking you. 

sukuna pumps your pussy to the hilt with slow yet profound thrusts. he bares his teeth down the blade of your shoulder as the maelstrom of release engulfs him completely. battered by waves of ecstasy, he grunts with your flesh between his teeth, the rough sound reverberating deep from his belly.

you must’ve reached the peak with him— you absolutely cannot tell. the only thing that your puddled mind can grasp is the swirl of his potent cum in the pit of your womb and the endless pulse of your cunt as you struggle to accommodate his release. 

petrified and silent, the remaining concubines are as fixed in place as if struck by an immobilizing spell. yet they watch— they watch intently while sukuna’s cock throbs with white strings of cum dripping from your cunt hole down to his balls and thighs. a hefty amount pools beneath him, oozing from where the both of you are connected. 

the envy that consumed them is a silent, suffocating thing, a palpable presence thick enough to choke. this envy deepens as they witness the delicacy with which sukuna has placed your dormant body on his own tatami mat. they grit their teeth secretly, throwing every known curse your way. may your womb not bear the fruits of sukuna’s seed, they vehemently pray. 

for ryomen sukuna, it’s nothing but a moment’s weakness, a foreign string of unknown emotion that you’ve managed to evoke from him. and even though he’s beyond human grace, he’s wasted your body to his own satisfaction, it’s only right to touch you with his claws retracted.

“performance is over, my dearests,” sukuna announces while a smirk tugs at his lips. facing his concubines, he dons his fundoshi haphazardly that it barely covers what it means to hide. 

“w… what will become of her, my lord?” one dares to ask. 

a fleeting, imperious gaze from sukuna sweeps over you before ushering the women from the opulent chamber. “you shouldn’t worry yourselves about such trivial matters. she will meet her own reckoning by my hands.”

a wave of malicious satisfaction ripples through the group as they exchange covert nods. you’re already a dead woman. with poisonous glee, they bow before ryomen sukuna with their faces shaped in unbridled mirth. 

“make sure that my wives are accompanied home safely,” sukuna orders the nearest guards. he tastes their fear hanging heavy in the air just by being in his presence. oh, humans. 

as the group began to retreat, they cast over their shoulders a flurry of flirtatious farewells to the imposing sukuna. however, before they could vanish entirely from sight, his deep voice cut through their progress.

“guards, before i forgot…” sukuna displays a grotesque smile filled with malice. “kill them all. i want nineteen heads on my feet tomorrow.”

they say he is a devil. 

you say he is a god. 

and despite all the names, sukuna has found himself a place of worship, with you as his altar. 

[yorsgirl]

Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?

Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.

He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.

He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.

Oh my, I love love love this idea!!

I kinda went out on this one, but I hope I did justice to what you were aiming at. Hope you like it :) Also I am sorry for being so late

Playing God

Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted. Needed. You had to realize that no other heaven except his arms would be comforting. Even if that meant, breaking your very soul.

Tropes: Dark Romance, horror, angst

Warnings: Implied nsfw(forced), mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, cannibalism and isolation. Trauma, mild stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, minor character death(s), gore, gaslighting, manipulation, misogyny, blood, degradation(non-kinky), patriarchal society, unhealthy relationship, implied child birth.

General warnings: Yandere!True form!Husband!Sukuna, Wife!Reader, Heian Era, both Sukuna and reader are a red flag on their own, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 9.7k

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw was the burning hut, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent. The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

Everything went down in flames. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again.

In this reverie of madness, he held your sight when you attempted to turn - the eyes tinted with crimson.

.

"I am sorry for your loss, m'lady."

You had seen it all.

You had your fair share of encounters, received news and such. Women losing their mind and sanity after delivered with a news this devastating. Notably, no woman would feel any bliss after knowing that they had lost their child. Lost the chance of motherhood before experiencing it. Violent outbursts was the most probable outcome.

"This is a hard time," The midwife spoke softly. "Yet, you shouldn't neglect your health."

You perceived the softness to be fear. She must have had dealt with situations like these, most of them traumatizing as you assumed. Perhaps, she expected the same from you too.

You tore your gaze off her, leaning back on your bedframe, "I'd like to be left alone."

Your declaration was answered with compliance. Offering a humble bow, she bid you farewell, walking out of your chambers. Once her footsteps seized, you finally let your guard down. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you laid back down on your bed.

"Good riddance," You muttered to yourself. Moments of such vulnerability wasn't rare, considering you were served with loneliness, lately. Save for the times you spent in the presence of Sukuna. His decree, one might say. Your attention shouldn't be wasted on anyone but him. You scoffed recalling his words. Involuntarily, you stroked your belly, the corner of your lip curled up.

Once a house to life, given by your husband; now lay vacant from your doing.

A twisted sense of pride swelled up in your chest, a wide grin stretching on your face. You were successful in your quest, again. Mercilessly, you uprooted the seed of your husband's lineage.

Perhaps, you've truly gone sick.

Yet, this revolt of feelings were miles lesser than the repugnant you encountered when you realized your first pregnancy. You were on the brink of clawing out the creature growing in your womb. You'd have torn it apart with while revelling in the joy of watching its blood drip down on the face of Earth. If not for Sukuna's presence in the room, you might've gone through it.

You lost a fragment of yourself, that day.

Throwing up countless times, dizziness, nausea, even losing your consciousness while walking down. No, they weren't pregnancy side effects. More so, the outcome of the stress accumulating in you.

Sickening. His kin you'd have cradled in your body. To be born and grow up into a revolting, merciless creature like his father. To take up place in your womb, your flesh and blood and combining with his – a living proof of your plight. Disgusting.

Never. You'd never let that happen.

You'd never succumb to such monstrosity.

You had already given up your freedom, your dignity, your alight life to Sukuna in exchange of the lives you held dear. The lives back in your ancestral village, home to your kin.

You were affirmed. An heir of Ryomen Sukuna would never be birthed from you.

Speak of the devil, he appears.

An overwhelming familiar aura surrounded your very being, the doors to your chamber slid open, your captor, your husband strolled inside. Even his mere presence held the malevolence in him. You attempted to rise from your position at his arrival.

"Sit." He commanded.

You silently obeyed his order, keeping your gaze settled on your lap, the energy had your stomach churning with trepidation; at times when you didn't do anything either. And this time, you were guilty. Two moments passed in silence until he spoke.

"I heard from the midwife."

You took in a sharp breath, swallowing a lump in your throat. It was the same ordeal, like the first two times. Yet, you were a tad bit calm since the previous encounters. Probably, due to the fact you were getting used to this role. In this past moons, you had developed into the wife, he was carving you out to be. Giving him just the reactions he wanted, for that saved you a lot of anguish and pain. Even if it came at the price of your self-respect. This was the only way.

With your head hung low, you spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I am incapable of bearing you an heir. I-It must have been my fau-"

"Not another word."

You instantly stiffened up, his deep voice causing chills to run down your spine. Did you make an error? Was he aware of your tumultuous acts? Was the play not convincing enough?

He held your chin, forcing you to look up at him. All of his four, red eyes bore into you. You bit on your inner cheek, blood coursing in your veins - steadfast.

They say, your fear start to vanish once you've remained in the source of their vicinity too long. That statement is false. For even after staying with your captor for almost two years, you still held your fear.

"The one at fault bore consequences."

That's when you were hit with the faint stench of blood from him. Another one perished. You took the wild guess of it being the midwife. However, instead of amplifying fright, it was lessened. You wouldn't be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"You aren't at fault, wife."

Oh, but you were.

Sukuna held your gaze, cupping your cheek; the rough pad of his thumb trailed a line on your skin. His tone and grip were surprisingly gentle. "There's no need to apologize."

The corners of your eyes crinkled down, you lean into his touch. You assume, it's a good move as you noted the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "It's the third time, my lord. Perhaps, I bear some shortcomings."

"What nonsense," He rolled his eyes. "There's none, not in my eyes. Don't fill your head with such fickle thoughts." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Is that understood?"

He wasn't one for affirmations but maybe- just maybe it was his attempt at comfort, you supposed. The previous losses must had him learning, the threads of condolence. Still, for you, they'd never mean anything less than empty words. The last thing you wanted was to be comforted by your tormentor. You'd rather step into hell willingly.

But you were living under his wing. You have to play according to his whims. You nodded. "Yes, my lord."

His hand left your face, dropping to his thigh. He looked at you, as if sizing you up. You had to keep yourself from making any unnecessary movements. Sukuna wanted you composed, whatever the situation. (Except the times when he bedded you, you were allowed to scream, cry and thrash around then. Cause you were trapped under his immense strength, struggles were futile).

After a while, he asked, "Any wishes?"

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering down then back to him. You let out a breath, before continuing. "May I visit the shrine... this evening?"

Silence.

You were contemplating whether you had offended him, somehow. Previously, he did allow for your little trips, you wondered if his patience was running thin cause of your repeated incapability of bearing him an heir. Maybe, you ran out of luck.

You were about to mutter an apology but then a smug grin spread across his lips, "Why so?" He asked.

"To-" You swallowed a lump, preparing to answer the practiced dialogue. "To offer prayers for–"

"Why grieve for someone who didn't even take form?" He cut you up, raising an eyebrow. For a tad moment, he sounded curious. It broke into a cruel chuckle, "You humans would make a funeral out of anything, yes?"

If you held an ounce of sympathy then you wouldn't question.

You wanted to say but you knew better. Besides, you still have to keep up the act of being his loyal wife. Heaving a out a deep breath, you replied, "I suppose." You paused, running the tip of your tongue over your lip.

"I'd pray that I can bear you an heir the next time, my lord."

Nay, more so: I'd pray that you receive your end soon, my lord.

Sukuna watched you. No, not look. He watched, like a predator. Then, his lips cracked into a sinister grin. "You've a way with your words, wife."

It caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, attempting to voice out your confusion. "What do-"

"I will accompany you."

.

"Sukuna sama, the herbalist you asked for, has arrived."

Sukuna spared a glance at Uraume, who knelt by his feet.

"Bring him."

As on cue, they rose up from their stance, pivoting around towards the door. It parted, two curses had a man in their grasp as he struggled to break free. His eyes widening with terror when it fell on the King, sitting atop his throne.

The man was pushed down to his knees, face meeting the floor in a loud slam. His scuffles were in vain against such power, he knew that. Still, in a situation of life and death, rationality takes it's leave.

Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. All he wanted was some herbalist to answer the flurry of questions in his which had him restless for the past few days. Did this scum think he'd be killed? Maybe he would be, if he deems it necessary or he proves to be useless.

What had him restless was your miscarriages. Counting the most recent would make it a fourth. Where did he go wrong? You were kept in utmost luxury, no toils whatsoever. Still, what was wrong?

—》《—

"Perhaps, there's some faults in her highness."

"Keep your voice down, Mira. Someone may hear you."

"I am a lot quite... but tell me, don't you find it strange? How come she has lost all of her children?"

"I- I suppose. Perhaps, motherhood is not written in her fate."

"Or so, she's simply incapable."

—》《—

Safe to say, those were the last words they uttered before they were turned into a mash of flesh and blood.

Sliced into pieces that even trying to make a proper corpse out of the remnants weren't possible.

At times, Sukuna wished he held the power to bring back someone to life. Then maybe, he'd have given those servants a death, more worthy. Maybe, ripping out their limbs, piece by piece. First the bones would break, ripped from the ligaments, then it'd be the muscles; that was easy to just tear out. And after that happened, he could have just sewn up the blobs of flesh again and repeat the process until they learn their lesson or the life leaves them again.

He deduced the latter would be more probable. Still, it would be fine. They deserved that.

Speaking ill of you in his palace, in his vicinity, in his world was prohibited. A sin, in the words of humans. And a sin never goes unpunished.

You - his consort, his queen, you were heavenly. There isn't a fault in you, it's some external factor, must be. But he can't let go of his growing suspicion either.

Sukuna detested children, it was a known fact. Always ending their lives first, whenever he set foot in a village. They were of no use to him, unless they were served to him on his platter. He couldn't deny, their flesh was flavourful.

Even though, he held great disdain for them, he couldn't help but desire a kinship with you. With the price of letting go of your undivided attention? Hmm, doesn't sound too great. He assumed, he can hire a wet nurse just in case. Still, he desired to see you round with his child, feet swollen as you struggled to walk around. You do not have to worry, he, your husband would joyfully oblige in carrying you in his arms. You were more than perfect, he couldn't even imagine just how beautiful you'll look, during and after carrying your child.

It was destined. You'd extend his lineage or no one else.

You were flawless then why were you causing such errors? Contradicting. It was his question until he started to take a note in your behaviour, and he found–

Sukuna stood up from his throne, walking down the steps of bones, presumably of the ones he killed. They act as a pretty show piece, according to him.

The court resonated with his footsteps, each one carrying a promise of death. The man's struggles seized once he was harshly pulled up by his hair, his eyes met with Sukuna's.

"Yo-your high–ness," The man fumbled with his words, a spine chilling sensation going down his frame.

"Time's wasting," Sukuna said, his glare pointed. The fury evident, though his exterior was calm. "Comply if you don't wish death."

The man nodded frequently, his fingertips trembled with anticipation and horror. "Ye-yes, your highness. It's an honour to s-serve you." The man fell to his feet as he was dropped. Sukuna dismissed the extra company with a wave of his hand.

"Rise," He declared.

The man still on his knees, raises his head. "What can I- I do for you, your highness?"

—》《—

"May I make a request, my lord?"

Sukuna's eyes flickered to you, yours not meeting his. Knelt before him, you gracefully poured the sake in his ochoko.

"Speak."

He marked the squinting in your irises, fingertips trembled when you put the vessel down. Your shoulders rose and fell before you gazed at him, reluctantly. He couldn't help but find your antics inhumanely amusing. 

"Would you be kind enough... to bring me this-" You paused for a fleeting moment. "This herb called... aloe vera?"

—》《—

"Aloe vera," Sukuna tilted his head aside, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest. "What use does it have?"

"We-well, my lord it's used for heal-healing purposes, burns, cuts, rashes... it heals injuries, yes." He answered, taking a gulp. There was other uses too yet his head was alike a blank canvas, before such a formidable strength. He wasn't even aware if it was satisfactory or why the King of Curses needed to know about such a measly plant. But if it meant he could see the sun for another day then he'll just give whatever he could offer. "I-It can also be used to– to make me-medicated food. N-not a delicacy... I might add."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"

"N-no, my lord. There- it can cure diges-"

"In pregnancy."

The man stiffened, his mouth parting a tad bit. A whisper leaving his lips, "Yo-your highness...?"

Pregnancy, menstruation, considered taboo. A matter regarding women, spoken in the inner chambers, the men should remain ignorant. A topic whispered in ears not spoken aloud in any hall, let alone the royal court. Certainly, Sukuna was aware of this societal construct, yet he didn't care. The society and its idiotic rules could go to hell. He just needed answers.

"Speak," Sukuna's voice was louder, deeper when the man before him fidgeted in his spot due to discomfort - on speaking such a topic.

"It-Its a... your highness, I d-don't think you-"

"Insolent bastard," His fumbling was interrupted by Sukuna. The warning evident in his profanity. His face grew darker, the four irises glowing with impending danger akin Satan himself. "If you so much as want to live, fucking speak."

The man's blood ran cold as on cue, face turning a shade paler as if winter had started to pool in. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, "Forgive me, your highness! I will speak, I will- yes- aloe vera its-" He heaved out a deep breath, an attempt to slow down his beating heart. "Any fo-form of it is ill-suited during pregnancy... it can cause... cause pe-pelvic haemorrhage leading to... to  misc-"

"Miscarriage?"

"Yes, miscarriage... can lead to miscarriage, your highness."

A profound silence prevailed. Not a soul spoke neither was a footstep heard. Not a leaf rustled or the howling winds tapped on the window pane - assumed, mother nature had halted its elements from making any noise.

The stakes were high yet an flicker of courage alighted in the man as he raised his head up to glance at Sukuna, "My lor-"

The man's head tumbled down before he could even complete.

He couldn't scream, he couldn't beg, he couldn't apologize, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch. Watch as his beheaded body fell limp before his eyes. Watch as the blood poured out like waterfalls staining the carpet with its hues. The red marred bones protruded out amidst the flesh, globs of blood was gushing out of his severed voice box. His body jerked, the remnants of conscious nerves trying to survive.

It was a neat cut. A heavenly sight.

The world started to blur in. And before he knew it, the light was gone from his eyes.

Sukuna didn't even spare a glance as he marched out of his court.

Uraume approached the body, a few maids accompanying them. They casted a disapproving glare at the corpse.

"Not edible, dispose of it."

.

You didn't see or hear from Sukuna for a week.

He didn't visit your chambers at night neither was he present when you sat down for your meals. Even his energy was alike a hushed whisper which would remind you of his presence in the residence, but not reveal himself to you. For some reason, it had you in an unease.

No, you certainly did not miss his presence. But his absence just made the surroundings almost suffocating. There was the looming threat that something had happened or something were to happen. One worse than the other.

Silence was never uneventful.

Insinuating the courage, you had once inquired Uraume about his absence. Presenting a polite bow, they answered, "Sukuna sama doesn't want to be disturbed."

Disturbed... as if he wasn't the cause of all disturbances. A natural disaster in himself. You resisted the urge to scoff and uttered a meek line of gratitude before going about your day. (That extended with you strolling down the halls or garden or just be in your chambers and read the few books Sukuna had bought you).

On the very same day the dark commenced. While you were mesmerized by the fall of twilight over the garden, you heard his voice.

"Don't you love playing with poison, wife?"

The sudden question made you halt your steps, you weren't even aware that he was present–shielded his aura, presumably. You turned around, raising an eyebrow with bewilderment.

"Pardon, my lord?"

Sukuna snorted, walking up to you, a smirk played on his lips. You had to make the effort of tilting your head to gaze up at him. His towering figure loomed over you, his lower left hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"You love poisons, don't you? Or in your words herbs."

Your shoulders grew rigid, eyes widening with realization, a sharp breath hitting your throat. Your fingertips trembled with anticipation. You were sure to be discreet in your affairs, using the isolation he subjected you to at its best. Yet he knew. It was bad. Very much so. And what were to happen now? What would he do to you?

Another night of horror where your screams would be unheard, your resistance proved to be futile, where you'd be left to suffer alone, where another shard of your remaining soul would be plunged by him. Another night where you'd again play into his whims... Or something more vile, leaving you physically disabled? Perhaps, even death...

The foremost was the most heinous one. You silently prayed that he wouldn't resort to that. If you were to be subjected to his torment then you wished he'd just kill you, liberating you for once and for all. Even so, survival is what the mind wants. Piecing through any tactic just to live another day. The play for now should be denial.

Sukuna's affections for you worked as a double edged sword. You aimed to take advantage of it, in every way possible. You instilled a bit of courage, standing your ground, you spoke "I don't understand what you're trying to instigate, my lord."

He looked down on you, a coy smile uplifting his lips. He threaded his fingers through the knot of your kimono, leaning down next to your ear, he inhaled your scent. His lips brushing over your neck.

"I do not believe so, wife." He murmured, his warm breath hitting your skin, a range of goosebumps rising over your arm. "In fact, I think you clearly know, what I speak about."

Before you could let a word out, he straightened up, turning around, he pushed you to walk with him. His large hand still covering your back.

"Come, let me entertain you."

.

You were walking to the gallows.

Not literally, but you were sure your end was near.

The wooden floors creaked with footfalls. Each step heavier than the previous. You hesitantly glimpsed at Sukuna, his gaze was far ahead. Not a word left his mouth in this while. Only his hold remained firm. He pushed you forward every moment your step faltered.

Your breath hitched when you turned a corner - the right wing. A rule, you could say. Sukuna made it clear since the day he held you captive brought you home – never step a foot in the right wing. Despair drowned your curiosity that time, you didn't question, least bothered to. Even later, you didn't dare to defy him; courtesy to the pain you were subjected to once.

Still, you could make the wild guess of what happened in there. The muffled screams kept you awake at midnight, it was easy to put the puzzle pieces together. There he revelled with the sick pleasure of tormenting your kind.

He stopped before a pair of oak doors. That's when he glanced at you, for the first time in a long while. For a moment, he stared at you with an emotion you couldn't decipher. The next moment, he pulled out the Kanzashi from your hair, letting your strands tousle down.

You flinched, pushing away the curls which clouded your vision. Sukuna held the pin in his hand, holding your gaze. He was unmoving.

What happened to him?

"My lord," You called. "What are you-"

"Stay quiet," He handed you the kanzashi back, adjusting your hand to hold it as if it were a dagger. Turning to the door, he spared you a glance. "Don't speak a word." With that, the doors opened.

Dark.

It was dark save for the light of the lantern which illuminated the room. He shoved you forward, the door locking behind as he stood aside you.

"One bite."

Huh? Bite? What did he mean? You slightly turned your head towards him but you were stopped in your tracks. It wasn't only you and Sukuna in this room, seems you had a guest. More appropriate word? A Captive.

Your eyes were wide open. On the corner of the room, sat a young boy, not more than a adolescent - blindfolded. Restrained by chains, his wrists and ankles were cuffed with metal. A small whimper left his lips as he registered the presence of both of you.

You were about to speak but then his words rang in your mind.

Don't speak a word.

Sukuna gripped your wrist, leading you to the boy, "One bite, in the arm."

He wasn't talking to you. To the boy, he kept his eyes. You marked how the boy flinched. The metals clanking on contact.

He turned to you then, motioning to the pin in your hand then the boy's arm. Realization hit you. You tried to shake your head, refuse; but one glare of his and you were compelled. Reluctantly, you turned around, trudging to the boy.

Something was wrong.

You could feel it. Why... why would he want you to stab this poor boy? A picture of misery, he was. You noted he didn't have any sign of bruises in his body - peculiar. Yet, his fragile state was enough to give you a hint that he had been here for days. Perhaps, starved too. The tension was high and all you wanted was to leave this room, in an instant.

Fine, if Sukuna wanted you to just stab the boy. You'd do it. Missing the vital points which could end his life. One, he said. You'll miss the point and done. Its not upon you that you'd pierce the wrong place. His instructions weren't specific—that'd be your excuse.

He won't die. Not from your hands.

You gently held the boy's arm, angling the pointers on the muscles. You drove it in.

Miscalculation.

The boy's body instantly stiffened, a gut wrenching scream erupted from his mouth. He thrashed around, swinging his legs and arms, his body twitching violently.

You recoiled back soon, yanking out the pin, stepping away on instinct. You watched with terror.

Foam rose up the boy's mouth, his shrieks pierced your eardrums. The fluid dripped down his jaw, marring his clothes. He clutched the area where you stabbed him. Scratching at it with all his might. The sound of flesh ripping filled your ears as the boy ruthlessly, tore the muscles.

You were stunted. You couldn't speak or move. You weren't chained but you felt as if a thousand shackles bore you down.

The next seconds were a blur. The screams started to die down, his body losing it's color. Sooner than you could grasp, did the room turn silent again.

The boy was dead.

.

"Enjoyed the show, wife?"

You slapped your hand over your mouth, stumbling a few steps back. You couldn't tear your eyes off the young boy, bile rose up your throat as the room started to spin.

"Wh-what did you-"

No- you couldn't throw up, whatever second thought it was, it refrained you from crumbling to your knees and make a mess. Shivers went down your spine, you struggled to stand straight. The stench of the corpse and the expunging liquids started to fill your nostrils. You were almost on the verge to lose consciousness.

"What... did you do?"

Your eyes flickered to Sukuna. He stood tall, not a sign of emotion on his mien. You regret ever considering mirth to the worst feature on him, cause none was more terrifying.

And he was watching you.

It reminded you of the time, you first saw him -  covered with blood of the lives he had taken, down the river bank. Victim of naivety and ignorance, you didn't know any better than to not let him see you. Wandering towards the peculiar beast, even when a gut wrenching terror asked you to run; you were stubborn. You had asked - are you alright?

"What did you do?" You repeated again.

Tilting his head, he kept his unwavering gaze fixed on you. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do anything, wife." He paused, letting the horror shadow your features, "It was all you."

You needed to run.

The kanzashi– which was till then clasped in your hand firmly– fell down. A clank, you heard.

One step.

One step towards the door. He is standing afore you, the fingers of his upper right arm ran through your open hair, tangling in the roots, he yanked your head back.

"I don't remember, giving you the permission to leave."

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to break free. Sukuna was having none of it. He dragged you by your hair towards the corpse of the boy. Your nails jabbed into his wrist while whimpers of anguish left your mouth.

Sukuna shoved you down to your knees, tugging your hair back - you were sure, they will be ripped off if he yanked with any more pressure - he made you glance at its face. He crouched beside you. With a flick of his finger, he ripped the blindfold out of the boy.

"Dare to shut your eyes."

Compliance had become second nature.

The body was rigid, skin turning blue. The veins on his arms were bulged out, his mouth wide open, filled with foam, trickling down his cheek, drying on it.

The sight caused you to gag.

Horrifying. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, protruding out of the sockets. Irises dilated in shape, which you considered humanly impossible. But what had your heart hammering in your chest wasn't the vivid details you saw on the corpse. It was the fact, that you recognized the boy. Son of that distant elder cousin, you'd seen once or twice in a year.

"Look at that, love." Sukuna cooed in your ear, forcing you to face the corpse.

You shook your head violently, nails dug into his wrist - desperate to escape. Your heart thumped inside your ribcage, you could hear it in your ears, your guts twisted in numerous ways as sweatbeads trailed down your forehead.

"You did that."

No. No, you didn't. You didn't do it. It wasn't you.

"You killed him."

No, you didn't... he didn't die because of you.

"Take a good look. See what you've done."

You vigorously shook your head. Denying all of his claims cause... cause they were... false, yes, false. They were false.

"No," You stated once you found your voice. "N-no, no... I- no."

Sukuna hummed, twisting a knot in your hair, "Yes, you. You did it."

No. You were innocent. You weren't to be blamed. It wasn't you.

It was... him.

"No, no, I didn't," You refused again, standing your ground. Moving your eyes towards him, you gritted your teeth. "No, I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. It was you."

"Really? How so?"

Fire burnt in your eyes. It was enough. He couldn't make you believe which you didn't commit - you didn't kill him.

"Poison," You said with conviction lacing your tone. "He was poisoned, a stab wouldn't procure such a reaction."

"Observant as ever," He mused, quirking up an eyebrow. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "Still, it doesn't gratify the fact that you were the one to end his life."

Blood boiled inside you, surging through your veins like lava. He had no right to accuse you of something. You didn't kill him, he couldn't make you believe it, whatsoever may happen.

"I may have stabbed him with the kanzashi, but that didn't have any trace of poison in it. I am-"

"Sure of it?"

You could only glare at him. He was toying with you. Tugging the strings of your conscience but you won't have any of it. "I am," You confirmed, staring at him without any falters. "I held it... you held it. If it was really drenched with toxicant as lethal as that, we- we both would be dead."

His grip loosened from your hair, hand falling down. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the smile turning into a smirk.

"It was you," You continued. "You did something to him at first and-"

Sukuna broke into a chortle of laughter. Far from jovial, more so sinister, filled with sheer malevolence. He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to himself. His sharp canines glinted in the dim light.

"You just keep on fascinating me, wife."

Each second with him was revolting. Just his touch alone had your skin crawling. Yet, you couldn't let him know he has the upper hand.

"We had a pact," You stated firmly. His game was disgusting. What was he trying to do? What was his goal? "If I stay with you, you wouldn't lay a finger on my family, then- h-how could-"

"I would still stand on the ground, that I didn't do anything." He replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It was all you, wife. I can assure you that I didn't go back in my words." His canines glinted while he smiled. "Not a flick of pain. Save for..." He paused, his eyes widening, the carmine irises glowed in the dark. "Save for telling him, he'd be killed by a snake bite."

"There was no venom on my pin."

"Know so," He confirmed, a playful smirk on his visage. You wished you could read minds, if possible only of him, that'd been enough. Then where did poison come from? You wanted to question but he beat you to it.

"His fear turned into poison."

You blinked. Once. Twice. You knew he had an urge to play mind games but this was ridiculous. You questioned, shell-shocked, "What?"

"He let his fear get the better of him, assuming your pin to be a snake. He believed it." He explained while you listened without so much as a word. "His conscience caused his body to give out the exact reactions, he imagined. A shock, you might say. That caused his death."

His game was disgusting. If he thought, he could just give you any excuse as this and let you believe his accusations then he was mad wrong. You gritted your teeth, yanking your face away from his grip. For a second, you saw all of his eyes opening wide with surprise. But that didn't extinguish the fire burning in you.

He reached out, dragging you towards him via the arm. A glare resting on his face. "What did I tell about refusi-"

"I don't believe you," You cut him off, hands clenched into fists. It was the first time in a long time, you lost your composure in front of him. No, you wouldn't play as his doll anymore. He broke his promise, its only fair that you do so. "I don't believe a single word you say. You- you did something, you must have. Fear, belief, whatever the fuck, something as trivial as that-"

"So you think fear is trivial, wife?" He sighed, his clutch in your arm remained firm. The rough callouses of his palm, rubbed over your skin. "And here I thought, you might be different than the rest. But you managed to drop below my expectations."

"Maybe that's what I love about you, darling." He continued.

Disgust arose in you yet again. Love. As if he had any of that. He wasn't capable of love. Not in this lifetime. Never. 

He spoke again, "Times you are the smartest I have seen, then you speak such blasphemy which would even embarrass the Gods you worship. Your silence was awarded by him leaning near your ear. He twisted a curl of your hair between his fingers. "Fear, wife..." He whispered to you. "Fear is a mind killer. It makes you believe anything. The small drop of poison which contaminates all the water."

"In the end, belief and fear are sides of the same coin," His top two eyes, flickered to the corpse of the boy. "I made him consume the poison of fear and you-" He turned to you again. "You made him believe it... so, in a way, yes. Yes, I did do something. Save for the part of ending his life. Though I didn't break my part of our pact." A smirk tugged on his lips. "You were the one who killed him. Isn't that great?"

Your breath hitched, throat gone dry. You gazed at him, eyes wide open. Your mind was a blank canvas.

Fear, poison, belief, killing...

He made you kill someone. An innocent boy who didn't even do anything.

Why won't he much rather just end your life?

Sukuna pulled away from you, standing up, he walked over to the lantern placed in the room. The stench of the rotting corpse had long ago started to pool in.

"You made me kill him." You whispered, still knelt, staring at the floor. When greeted with silence, you questioned again, a tone higher, "You made me kill him."

"And?"

His nonchalance had always been infuriating to you.

You could feel him standing a few steps behind you. "If you really wanted to kill my kin, you should've just told me. Getting your herbs was a tiring chore." You didn't miss the emphasis he put on, herbs. The roll of his eyes while speaking floated before your eyes even though you couldn't see him; the expression must had turned to a smirk later. "However, the taste of taking a life– isn't it delicious, wife?"

Guilt gnawed at you, tearing you internally. Your shoulders trembled as you let out ragged breaths, eyes fixed on the bloodied arm of the boy. The same arm where the kanzashi pierced, the muscles torn apart, blood drying on it due to the boy's onslaught. Nausea overrode your senses, bile rose up your throat and the next moment you were throwing up. The wastes ran down your mouth, your nails dug into the wooded boards – bruising your fingertips and chipping the nails. You didn't realize Sukuna stepping up to your side, pulling your hair back while you were caught into the ordeal.

A disapproving grunt left his mouth after you were finished, yanking you up with your wrist. He pulled you towards the door. "Com-"

"No." Your heels remained firm on the ground. You refused him before you could even think. He turned towards you slightly, a scowl resting on his features before he pivoted around. He cast a glare upon you but before he could speak, your mouth opened again.

"You're even lower than scum." Your jaw ticked, hands clenching into fists. "You made me kill an innocent boy. Someone who might have done nothing to you, You– You disgust me, Sukuna."

Done you were with the respect, he demanded. If that angered him, made him want to rip out your heart and watch the life drain from your eyes. He was most welcome.

But it looks like, he wasn't resorting to any of that.

"You made me a murderer." You urged, staying strong in your stance. "You turned me into you."

His eyebrow twitched, a wave of mirth washed over him. "You were always like me, wife."

"I am nothing-"

"You are. You are like me. You are no saint, as you think so of yourself. " He said, leaving no room for argument. His lips pressed tight into a thin line. 

Yet, you refused to believe that. You were nothing like him. Couldn't even dream so. You were not him.

"You kill children in your womb, I kill them after they're born. How is it so different?"

"It is different." You yelled, your jaw clenched, teeth baring out. "This world needs no more of your lineage, it needs no more of you." You jabbed your pointer finger on his chest, tears pooling into your eyes. You refused to shed them. "You kill for your own sake, I do not."

"Then who do you kill for?"

"For everyone." The faint snort of his reached your ears. You couldn't decipher what he found so delightful in this.

"Playing God, are we?" He mocked causing your vexation to rise.

"Maybe I am. For the least, I am not killing innocent people like you."

From where such defiance arose, you weren't sure of. Perhaps, all the frustration, fright, terror which accumulated till now had reached its limit. Moreover, Sukuna's provocation must be the fuel to the fire.

You might be left bleeding– No, you would be left bleeding. You welcomed it with open arms.

.

"Careful," Sukuna pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "All Gods aren't worshipped."

He was enjoying himself. In all honesty, your obedience was getting too monotonous. This was better. Your defiance was amusing. Arousing, if there's to add. If he knew, letting you end a few lives would have this effect then he would have resorted to this long ago.

"Better than you." You shoved his hand away, "You are nothing more than a wretched, two-faced curse destroying all of our lives."

He noted your scowl, the way your lips were shut tight, your eyebrows crinkled together. Reasons evident, all he desired was to pull you into his arms smash his lips against yours. Taste the very essence of your being. Consume you wholly, just the way you are. So that in the end, your name, your taste, your scent would be engraved in his very soul. Without your mention, he wouldn't be complete. 

But he refrained from giving in now. His desire extended to a far more sinister route. "I wonder..."

What would it be like to break your conviction? What would it be like to break you?

Oh, he knew.

Would it be right moment to let you know? Maybe he should wait for another, more appropriate time.

Hmm, perhaps he should. But no.

He let you play these games for too long. Tired of this game plan, he was. Maybe, you would just come to your senses if he let you know. So he let the words, flow out:

"I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay siege to your life?"

Worth everything.

Sukuna watched as your face lost its color. The previous boldness you presented him with was replaced by a mask of confusion and. Such a pretty sight, it was. To see you, falter from your stand. Second guess, yourself, be in denial then rage consumes you. And you look at him, like he was the forbearer of your misery. (He is).

Oh, how good he has you memorized.

Even the littlest of reactions you contort on your mien, on your mannerisms; everything has him intrigued. You have him intoxicated.

"You know the ones, the people... your people, for whom you play this God."

Sukuna wished he could capture this moment. He'd have the chance to take a glimpse of it again, whenever he wished to. The horrified look on your face as the weight of his words started to sink in.

Would you still look like this if he tells you the terror he bestowed on them who tried to steal you away from him? What would you say if he vividly describes each imagery of how he slowly, agonizingly burnt them, severed them and tormented them? Leaving them nothing but fragments beyond recognition.

You were his. All of you belonged to him. Without his sanction, no one could even see you, let alone touch you. Ah- just how many sorcerers perished from his hands, the number of villages, bathed in blood; save for yours. (Courtesy to that stupid pact, he forged with you)

Something had told him, that there'd be a better time to put an end to the pitiful lives of your kin.

"Can't speak? What caused so, darling?" His tone was laced with smugness, a twisted joy elicited in him. "Fearful that your play amounted to nothing?"

Your jaw ticked with anger. You were furious. "I don't believe you. You are lying."

Your trust on humans was commendable, he'd give you that. However, there's stark contrast between faith and blind belief. You were inclining towards the latter.

So, what do they do when words fail to convey message? Oh right, you give them a prime example.

"Let me just show it to you then, wife."

It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted - he needed you to know that no place other than his arms would be as comforting. Even if that meant breaking your very soul, so be it.

.

You were home.

One moment, Sukuna held your gaze. The next, you are standing before your hearth.

Toes dipping into the familiar black soil, the land where you ran and played during your childhood. Your familial home stood steps away from you. Still looked the same except the visible cracks on the wall, a layer of dust on top of the door and the woods looked worn out. However, what caught your eyes weren't the flaws of your home but the familiar older woman walking into your home.

"Mother…"

She stilled all of a sudden, rotating on her heels, her eyes landed on you. Shell shocked, that's what she was with the widened eyes and parted lips. A small smile curved up on your lips, she still looked the same except the few grey hairs and wrinkles aside her eyes.

"Mother," You called again, taking a step towards her. "I am back."

Sooner than you expected, her eyebrows scrunched up, mouth curving down when she finally registered your presence. You weren't some illusion or her mind playing tricks. "What are you here for?"

The disdainful tone caused you to flinch. You didn't expect this. Returning home, you dreamt of it to be filled with tears of joy and warm embraces. Not this… whatever, she was presenting you with. But- But its fine, you have returned after a two whole years. She must have been worried. The reason of her apprehension. God, you had a lot making up to do.

"Well, you know," You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck. "Back… just back. I have returned."

"Found your way after two years?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at you with a look you didn't want to recognize.

You nodded, "Yes. How could I forget my way? Our address, its-"

You were interrupted when your name was spit out from her mouth. Her glare on you was palpable, "I know what it is. What are you here for?"

Her fury even made your skin crawl with fear. You were often on the receiving end of her glare when you were a child, given by your tendencies to run around and cause trouble for others. Yet, those glares, were none like this. This- this- you didn't want to name what it was.

"You are angry," You don't know if its directed towards your mother or yourself as you hold onto the last bit of fragments that not all is lost. "I get it, I really do." You stood on your toes, attempting to look behind her, into your house. "Where's father? Tell him, I am-"

"No more."

As if the air was knocked out of your lungs.

"What?" Your neck craned towards her so fast, it might have left a sprain. Yet, that was the least of your concern. "What do you mean by no more?"

"No more means no more." Your mother's sigh fell heavy on the air, words carried the weight of the world. Laid with pain underneath.

"How- when? Wha-what happened?" You couldn't wrap your mind around the new discovery. No one told you such. Who could've guessed? Such an ordeal to occur in your absence. And what might she be going through, without you. You didn't even get the chance to talk to him, one last time.

"A year ago," She confessed, her voice conveyed her lament and sorrow. Her words felt like a hammered blow on the fragile façade of hope, you had intricately crafted for yourself. However, she wasn't done. Her eyes held scorn, lips curled up to a sneer. "Aren't you satisfied? You finally made your mark. Must tell you," Her voice, once filled with love held nothing save for contempt, directed at you. "Good game, you played, dear." She spit the endearment as if, it were poison.

"No, I- I never wanted any of this. What are you even talking about?" A trembling footfall towards her, you whispered, "M-mother-"

"Don't you dare call me that."

The weight of her judgement felt heavy on you, pressing down, suffocating you alike chains.

"You are no daughter of mine."

You weren't aware since when the tears had sprang up your eyes, breaking the barricades, they shed down. Your throat burnt as you struggled to even breathe, clutching your chest - a searing pain shooting in your heart. Your heart was shattering from the ultimate rejection from your own flesh and blood.

"While you're at it, know this." Your mother continued.

The next words were like a blow to the gut, each syllable lined with the weight of revelations. Ones that hung in the air like a funeral shroud.

"In his last moments, his only regret was bringing a daughter like you in this world."

.

This night just doesn't seem to end, does it?

You were left as a hollow shell. Tethering the steps away from the home you were no more welcomed. Exhaustion reigned heavy on you. Physically and mentally.

Where were you going? You didn't know. Just where your feet would take you, there would you go. Perhaps, you can return to Sukuna. Would he take you back? Most probably not. Considering, your earlier outburst, adding to the fact that you refused to give him what you want; he might just discard you as you proved to be useless.

Funny. It was so damn funny. Once, you wished to escape from his hands whatsoever the price yet now… now you considered returning to him.

You could hear him calling you pathetic. Disgusting. More disgusting, that you agreed with him.

You were truly pathetic.

But before you could spiral down the void of self-hatred, a voice- nah, multiple voices startled you.

"There she is, parading around some meek, innocent girl." A scoff is added. "You are far from it."

"The nerve of you to just walk back into our lives after you betrayed us."

Your neck cranes to your left, an old man - the village elder with a few other men and women following behind; they approached you. "Excuse me?"

"Who do you think you are?" A woman's cry reached your ears. "Returning after you turned your back on us."

You flinched at the accusation thrown. What could be possibly be instigating? To all your knowledge, you were walking in this- in your village after two long years. Anger, disdain and accusatory glares clouded their features. If your mother's insults weren't enough to pierce through your heart then it certainly did now, with all the people, you once called your own to look at you like you were the monster.

You summoned the least bit of courage you had, squared your shoulders and started, "I'd have you know-"

"Traitors don't get to speak." At the center of the crowd was the village elder. He was the pillars of your hamlet, revered for his wisdom and guidance, but now he looked akin a judge ready to deliver his sentence upon you. A sentence which would push you more into this conundrum. "You've been cavorting to that monster. Disgusting."

"I am no traitor." You retorted soon. "You can't accuse me of such when you don't ev-"

"Save it for someone who would care, whore."

The curse had your mouth parted in disbelief, horror etched upon your mien. Sooner than you could compose yourself, did whispers of agreement rippled through the crowd which branded you as a traitor.

"You are just as twisted as him."

"Get out of here if you so much as hold your life dear."

"Don't play as the innocent bitch, now."

The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with its venomous hatred. Your breath was caught in your throat as you searched desperately for words to defend yourself; the crowd's hostility rendered you speechless. But amidst the cacophony of condemnation, one voice stood out above the rest.

I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay down yours?

Really? Were you really recalling his words now? Now of all times… You truly were pathetic.

For one moment, You just stayed silent - letting their accusations bore you down. Somewhere you wished all of it were just a nightmare. You'll soon wake up on your bed beside Sukun- fuck! Since when did you start to expect to wake up with him? He- He was toying with your mind. This was the only result. But the fact that this was your thought process had you recoil back.

The next moment, everything made sense.

These accusations were stemmed from the fact that you- you were proclaimed to be the wife of the King of curses. Your unwillingness to return, given for the pact you forged with Sukuna, was taken as your cue that you betrayed your family, your home, your people.

Your family despised you. Your people despised you. The very same people you chose to protect were turning their back on you.

Did they truly try to lay down your life?

Amidst your plight, you didn't register when the village elder marched up to you. "Didn't you hea-" His trial at speech was cut off. Nay, his lifeline was cut off. (Humorous, isn't it?)

Numerous red lines appeared on his body before it burst off into a globs of flesh and blood. Blood which splashed onto you, marring your visage and attire with its hues.

He was here. You knew it. You could feel it.

For some reason, it filled you with a sense of relief.

However, your people were on the other end of the rope. The eyes which afore held hatred and disgust, they were now filled with horror and fright. In this reverie as the villagers started to flee, a torch tumbled on the ground - lighting the grass on fire. The winds showed no mercy, as the howls increased, so did the flames.

Provoking him was never the right move.

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw were the burning huts, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent.

No one touches what's mine.

The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

The sparks danced over your irises as everything went down in the crimson hues. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this trance of insanity, only one thing held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

All of a sudden, something burnt inside you too.

Unbridled rage consumed you. Your chest heaved up and down as ragged breath left your mouth. Their words came back to you, ringing in your ears as if you were pushed into a void.

Who do you think you are? Returning after you turned your back on us.

Would this bitch even be alive if you prioritized yourself?

Don't play as the innocent bitch, now.

Is that the thanks you get for trying to protect them?

Traitors don't get to talk.

Traitor… fine, you'd be the traitor.

With caution you took one step towards him. No reaction. Your chance - you took another. Then another and another. You stood before him, with nothing save for a void etching your features. Amusement flickered over him, the corner of his lip curled up.

"Saw it for yourself wife?"

Seemed like silence was your go-to response lately. From your peripheral, you saw the burning houses, the distant screams reached you. For some reason, the screams were almost soothing. You revelled in this. Their gut wrenching shrieks were like a balm to your essence.

Their predicament was your solace.

Sounded like someone you knew. Someone who had warned you about them but you chose to remain ignorant. Sickening… were you becoming like him?

You were always like me, wife.

You could laugh. Maybe you were like him.

"Let's forge another pact?" You offered, keeping your eyes pinned on him.

"A pact?"

"A pact."

A smirk curved up his lips, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest, "Humour me, love."

The smirk wasn't directly for you. But he did. So you returned it back. One with an equal malicious intent. Cause in that moment, no second thoughts, no doubts clouded your mind. And so, you uttered the blasphemy:

"You kill them all, each and everyone. In return, I will stay with you, give you an heir. Whatever you want from me."

.

A year later

Screams died down after a gruelling ten hours.

"Good news, Sukuna sama. It's a boy."

A/N: Honestly, I was almost done with this fic, long ago but while writing the climax, I kept chickening out with all the self-doubts but then I just wrote what I wanted. I do understand if the ending is not up to your liking and I sincerely apologize for it.

However, thanks for reading up till the end. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Some feedback is appreciated <3

[multific]

Maybe In Another Life

King Baldwin IV x Reader

Warnings: Mention of smut, Illness, Mourning, Death

Summary: A short piece about a King who was doomed to die early and his Queen.

You were promised to him before either of you were even born.

You were married by the time you were 13. He was 14 years old.

And you loved him.

You loved how smart he was. How gentle and kind he was. 

Your love for him started when you began to grow older, you got used to one another.

You loved him.

Then, he started to get more and more sick. It scared you. The thought of losing him petrified you.

You tried to ignore his illness, you tried to act as if everything was fine. But you couldn't hide it for long. 

He was a strong soul, but his body was weak. 

You remember the night of your wedding when you had to consummate your marriage. It was a night you would never forget.

It was the first time you laid with him. It was the first time you felt truly loved. 

Even if you wanted to, tried to, there was only ever one time when he gave himself to you. 

You seduced him, not giving him an option, you laid in his bed, bare and presented yourself to him. It was his 16th day of birth before his illness got worse.

He began to wear the mask, never letting anyone touch him.

You loved him, it was simple yet complicated.

But you knew he loved you. 

His actions showed it to you. 

The garden he built just for you, was grand and gorgeous.

"Just like you, My Wife." he would say. "This garden will be the proof of my love for you and of your beauty for the upcoming centuries." 

How he loved your smile. 

But then, you were sitting next to him as he was taking his last breaths. Your tears falling, you couldn't control them.

"I will miss you greatly." you said as he moved his hand and allowed you to take it.

One last touch.

"I love you," he said and you smiled, allowing him to see it right as he died.

You took a deep breath and placed a kiss on his mask. 

"I love you too." you said as you broke down sobbing. 

You visited his grave daily.

In the beginning, you didn't even leave it for days.

They will crown a new King, and people will move on, but not you. 

Barely a year passed and you were lost. You had nothing and no one to live for.

You still visited your husband's grave daily, hoping he would wake up, hoping he would come back to you, but he never did.

Your mourning caused you to become sick.

In the hopes of joining your husband in the afterlife, you prayed and begged for death until the day it finally took you.

You joined him in death as you wished.

The wife of King Baldwin IV was placed to rest next to him, your rightful place, right by his side. 

Maybe in another life, you two would meet again, hopefully, that time it will be right. 

----

They say you don't remember your past life, but the feeling stays with you.

It is why a person who you know you have not met, might feel familiar. In a past life, you might have known them.

Then, there are people who claim to remember their past life. Who say they found their true love once again.

You used to laugh at those people.

But not today.

Not when you couldn't look away from him.

He stood right across the other side of the street. Occasionally, cars obstructed your view, but he was there.

With each passing car, you feared he would disappear.

But he didn't.

His eyes were glued to yours.

A familiar feeling flooded you, you knew him but you never met him.

You would remember such a handsome face, he was tall, lean yet built, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing spectacular.

But he looked amazing in your eyes.

Soon, he crossed the road, and you felt your heartbeat pick up.

You didn't move as he walked closer to you.

He was even taller up close.

"My Wife." he said and it felt so right.

You have never seen this man in your life. And yet, you remembered him.

"My King." you said as tears fell from your eyes.

"I remember learning about you in history class. The Mourning Queen of the Leper King." he stepped closer, lifting his hand to your cheek, and you smiled.

"I told you before, I couldn't possibly live without you." he smiled as you leaned closer, grabbing his shirt to pull him down.

And now, you could kiss him freely.

Your past was filled with love and pain. You both will make sure that this life will be a happy one.

You both pulled away from the kiss and spoke in sync.

"I love you."

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ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[blingblong55]

The shadow's obsession- Philip Graves NSFW

Based on a request:

Erm...sweats nervously Obsessive stalker! Graves x reader... 🧍🏻‍♀️ "As soon as he saw you he knew that he needed to know everything about you. Every dirty little secret, every private thought and every small detail about you. But of course, talking to you wouldn't do the trick entirely, he needed something more. He's read every file that's ever been written about you. He has your birth certificate, your license, your every text and call you've ever made, every post made on social media, everything. Hes hacked every device so he can watch what you search during the day and what you're doing. He knows things about you that even you don't know about." Drops this and runs away🏃🏻‍♀️ (I moved on from Makarov now it's time for graves 💯💯 I love ur writing sm!! Er i usually request anon cause I request too much..😞😞 YK the popsicle Makarov fic? Requested that anon to.. and also the one where Makarov apologized with money...but now I moved on to graves no more Makarov new year new character 🙏🙏)

---- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, obsessive!Graves, neighbour!Graves, stalker!Graves ----

A/N: Not much smut to be honest, so please don't expect to be fucked in this one....so...yeah.....

Philip sits in the dimly lit flat, one he owned only to be close to you. In his home, there is a room that is filled with screens and various feeds from the hacked devices you owned. How could he not do this? You are such a beautiful thing, of course, he had to keep his eyes on him. You're an obsession. An obsession that consumed him, every moment of his existence revolves around you. From the first time he laid eyes on you, he knew you were the one. But, this isn't love in the traditional sense; it's a dark and twisted obsession that gnaws at his soul. 

He had developed deep into your life, souring every corner of the internet for information about you. Birth certificates, licenses, social media posts– nothing escaped his grasp. He knows you better than anyone, even more than you know yourself, or so he believes. 

Every text, every call, every search query you ever made was meticulously logged and analyzed by him. He watched you from the lens of your own devices, a silent observer in your little world. He knows your routines, fears, and desires and he relishes in the power this gives him over you. 

To you, he was just your overly friendly neighbour. He was the man you called when help was needed inside your flat. 

His obsession only grew stronger with each passing day, fueled by the way you spoke, and the way your eyes glimmer as you looked at him. It wasn't that you were just being kind, right?

But he wanted you to know him. To know that he is more than just a neighbour, he can be more. He is more. 

He was happy this way though, he knew it all. He knows you're single, he knows your body like no other. Hell, he knows your scent, the way your legs shake when you reach your climax and how you try and suppress the moans. He dreams of the day he would finally have you all to himself when you'd see how much he loves you. 

But until the day you know how he feels for you, he'll just remain in his bubble. He'll lay in bed, take in the scent of your panties, the same ones he stole, and look at the videos he has of your showering, touching yourself and moaning. For you're his everything, his reason for living in a world consumed by darkness. 

As days turned to weeks and the weeks into months, his obsession with you only intensified. He found himself unable to tear his gaze from you, his every waking thought consumed by your presence. He began to lose himself in fantasies of what it would be like to finally sleep by your side, to hold you in his arms and whisper his darkest desires into your ear. 

But even as he dreamed of a future where he had you, he knew his fantasies were just delusions of his own making. He is addicted to the thrill of watching you, to the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins every time you appeared on one of his screens. You're a drug. 

The same drug that has his fist around his throbbing cock. Moans escape the same ones that call for you. Pre-cum leaks down his shaft. Your panties by his nose. What an addicting scent you have. In his screen, he has you, fingering and playing with that sweet pussy. Your moans and whimpers are all for him to enjoy. As you play with one of your nipples, he finds himself wishing to be the one to worship those precious tits of yours.

He only allows himself to cum when you do. That's the one rule and it's all so he can be prepared for when he has you right in front of him.

Times go on, men you've met disappear, and one by one they mysteriously leave town. 

5 in the morning and there you went, regular morning walk, same streets, same speed and always listening to the same playlist. Those thighs of yours, only made his hands want to explore every inch of them. Leave his marks on them for all to see. 

His train of thought gets interrupted when he sees a man approach you. Graves, being the man he is, always kept his distance from you as you jogged, never trying to engage with you but rather just watching to understand you. This time, he can't just let this man be close to you. Who is he? He certainly isn't someone you know, Graves would've known if you were talking to this man. 

Your soft voice fills his ears as you smile and talk with this stranger. Your smile is as beautiful as day but why must you insist on smiling to this man? Philip is right there, why can't he have all your smiles? Love him. Love him. Love him. LOVE him. Love HIM. LOVE HIM. LOVE HIM Y/N!

"Love me," he whispers as he approaches you. "Oh, hi," you softly say as you recognise your neighbour. "Hey, who is this?" A little too forward, no? He thinks. "This is," you turn to the man. "Robert," he answers with a kind smile. "Ah, I see, well, I'm Philip," he says as he stands closer to you. 

An awkward conversation later and Philip finally has you where he wanted. Sitting on a bench as you two talk, something he rarely got to do. "And my mum was a teacher, that's where the nickname came from," you mention casually. Of course, he knew this, he knows it all, remember? "And for a pretty lady like you, it suits you," he compliments and with barely any notice from you, he scoots closer. 

If only you knew he has all he needed to know in files. A man like him is organised. He just wants to know if you'd ever lie. Do you? 

An hour passed, shared laughter, more than small talk and he knew it well. You were a person who told the truth. Oh, what a darling of a girl you are. 

With smooth talk, he tells you to join him for dinner. Not an ask, he knows you like men who know what they want. It's the same thing he heard you tell your friends over the phone. 

Once he makes it back to his place, after dropping you at your flat, he sits in his room, watches and listens as you tell your friends about him. A smile creeps into his lips. "That's right, darlin' tell 'em, let 'em know about the man who will own that every needy heart," he says to himself. 

With time, the more you spend with him, the more he finds himself pleased with the idea of how you feel inside. He wishes to know what exactly excites you about him. Sure he knows you blush when he drops you off at your place and kisses your cheek, but does his accent excite you? Does the idea of him being such a gentleman bring butterflies to you? Do you like how he knows your favourite treats? 

Why is he so perfect? You ask yourself. How come he knows that you love to watch rom-coms? How does he know you cry over romance scenes? Why does he kiss you in the rain? Why does he know you smile so much because you always wanted that? Why does dancing in the rain make you excited? Are you falling in love? 

Oh....you are in love, aren't you? Is this why you asked him to have a casual date? It's why he's now holding you in his arms as you two watch 'How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days' right? 

Do you love him?

Do you love me? He thinks when you look up at him. Your heart racing as he smiles. His hands cup your so sweet face, "Yes, darlin'?" How does he know you this well? You lean in and kiss him. What a sweet thing. 

From here on, not only does he obsess over you, but he worships you. You're the newfound religion. You're the sun and he the planets. 

There is something so dark and twisted, something so macabre that it almost makes his love holy. 

You are what the shadows love. 

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[trupowieszcz-moved]

fun facts about (polish) vampire folklore because i'm too autism

(disclaimer: my source for all of this is the book "Upiór. Historia naturalna" by Łukasz Kozak i'm not pulling this out of my ass)

The word "vampire" came from a mistranscribed Serbian word, written down by Austrian officials informing about a panic among the locals, who claimed that during a plague their dead were rising and biting them and spreading the plague further

In Poland, the words used to describe what later transformed into a "vampire" in literature were: upiór (and variations thereof - the word came from Ukrainian, and the Ukrainians got it from Turkish "ubyr"), strzyga (f)/strzygoń (m) and wieszczy (m)/wieszczyca (f). "Upiór" was used in the southeast, "strzyga" around the central regions, "strzygoń" (as well as strzyga) specifically in Lesser Poland (Małopolska) and "wieszczy" in Greater Poland (Wielkopolska) and in Kashubia. "Wąpierz" was not a word until some writer in the 19th century made it up!

The upiór actually very rarely drank blood. It happened, sure, but a much more bloodthirsty creature was zmora/mara. However, upiory often drank milk, stealing it from cows and horses. Both are life-giving bodily fluids, after all.

The above might make you think about witches, who were often blamed with stealing or spoiling milk, and you wouldn't be far off. You see, you had to be born as an upiór (these ones weren't contagiously biting!), and while you were alive, it would give you various magical powers, like clairvoyance and detecting the dead upiory, and so the upiór was practically a synonym of a sorcerer or witch. Of course, the sources vary, but depending on who you asked, they could control weather bringing heavy rains or droughts, see the future, know literally everything and so on. Those so-called "living vampires" knew who they were since birth and were often helpful, until they died.

After an upiór died, that's when the bad things happened. They disappeared from their graves, destroyed churches, broke candles, brought plague upon the people, scared their neighbors, and if one puffed in your face, you would soon die. They were said to be able to walk around with their decapitated head, so anti-vampiric burials often had to be very thorough and decapitation wasn't enough.

The signs that were supposedly telling of a living vampire were, among others: being born with teeth, being born in a caul, not having armpit or pubic hair BUT having a hairy chest, not having undergone confirmation (i'll come back to that in a moment), having a very red face and easily and often blushing (not being pale!), or being born with a deformed foot.

Not having participated in the confirmation sacrament was especially damning, because it was believed that upiory had two souls (and two hearts). When they were baptized, only one soul was being saved, and the confirmation sacrament was supposed to protect the second soul. This, of course, was extremely against the catechism, so the first "official", church-related sources recording those beliefs had to invent another "backstory" for upiory, and they claim that an upiór is a dead person specifically, who was given to the devil at birth, the baptism saving their soul, but their body still belonging to the dark forces, which was why they rose from their graves - the devil basically hijacked their corpses.

I won't make this post much longer but I will GLADLY answer any questions because this is my special interest and I just came back from an exhibition where the author of the aforementioned book talked about all of that so. me right now ⬇️ (readmore so you dont get continuously blased with the gif under it)

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

you are love itself (君は愛そのものだ)

cw. fem!reader, childhood friend au, established relationship, love as worship, love as a choice, reader has a defined devil fruit ability

pairing. portgas d. ace x reader

synopsis. his skin is dotted in stardust.

notes. a 1.3k look into those short moments of privacy you have with ace on the moby. i got the title from 'therefore you and me' after rewatching this amazing asl brothers animatic for the billionth time. cover comes klimt's the kiss (1908).

Everything is made of stardust; the stars that made Ace are simply visible to the eye.

They couldn't be contained in the depths of his body like the rest of the world's inhabitants. It's scattered all across his skin in a beautiful display, matching the skies they fell from. Isn't that something? You brush a hand against warm skin in awe. It's all right there. The stars themselves rest upon his skin, how beautiful is that? How could anyone want someone like that dead?

When you were children, Ace told you he would bring you the moon.

What do you need the moon for when you've been touching the stars since you were 10?

Straddling his lap, you can't help laughing as you think you'd been fighting a losing battle from the start. From the beginning, you'd been drawn to Ace and his stars and you wanted to follow where they'd go for the rest of your life.

"What's so funny?" Ace murmurs into your shoulder.

"I think I was born to love you." It is the only plausible conclusion for you to reach after 10 years of loving the same person. For the half of your life you've known him, you've chosen Ace from day one. You will continue to choose him for the rest of the life you have. You chose to chase him all around Mt. Corvo, you chose to be his friend, you chose to join his crew and your heart chose him even if your head had been slow to realize. "We don't need to find the One Piece," you murmur as you lead a trail of kisses from his shoulder to Ace's cheek. "I already have everything the world has to offer right here."

You feel Ace stiffen beneath you before he laughs sheepishly, "I think you need to have your eyes checked if you think that."

"Hey," you lean back so you can see his face. Your brows are furrowed sternly but your eyes sparkle with mischief and your lips stretch into a challenging grin. "I have better eyes than you, I can see the soul."

Ace snorts but his voice is light and as warm as the smile painting his face, "souls of the dead, yeah." Smiles suit Ace more than the frowns that were once commonplace when you were younger.

"That still counts," you protest with a chuckle. He doesn't have to believe he's worthy of it, you'll tell Ace all the same. You cup his face in your hands and enjoy the vibration of his mellifluous laughter under your fingers tips as you squeeze his cheeks. "There's a lot you can learn about this sort of stuff when you can see the dead." How the soul carries its wounds even after death. How the soul carries the essence of everything that makes something itself. How love can carry on beyond the grave.

You've seen it countless times by now in your truthfully short time of being a power holder.

The spirit of a man who wanted a few berries to leave as a surprise his husband could stumble upon to brighten his day.

An elderly woman dancing in the town square, seemingly alone following the steps she took with her lost love long ago. Unbeknownst to her, however, her love danced with all the same as they did once a long time ago.

Pods of orcas full of members past and present, refusing to part from their birth pod even in death.

How beautiful it is, a love like that.

Even while deceased, they choose to remain by their beloved all the same.

Whenever it is Ace's time, he'll take his stars with him and they will rest on his skin just as they did when he was alive. But I'll make sure you're so happy you won't want to stay, you vowed when you partook of the sea's cursed fruit. You carry this vow even now. Ace will die a happy death but more importantly, he will live a long and mirthful life.

(You can tell for as sure as your eyes are dry; the urge to cry and scream in mourning and warning nonexistent. Still it's your heart's desire that you go first so you don't ever have to risk the day you know death will come for Portgas D. Ace.)

"You know what I think," you cease your pinching, letting your lax thumbs stroke his face. Dark eyes look up at you like you're a dream and gold like sunlight rests in your chest. It's light yet heavy and even if your heart is calm, its rhythmic beating tells you something precious. And he's so, so precious. "I think that when people move on, they're reborn as someone else. Then they get to live life all over again. And one day, that's gonna happen to us."

Then you'll cease to be the 'you' you have been and so will he.

Maybe that time, you'll be raised in separate seas and there will be no trio of brothers you'll latch onto. Maybe he'll be born somewhere in Paradise but I'll be from the West Blue. Or maybe he'll be a fishman. Or a giant!

Maybe next time, Ace will be a short girl with firey auburn hair and chocolate brown eyes with the disposition to match. Or he'll be a scarred and gruff dragon moray eel fishman who is an overt romantic.

Maybe next time his stars will follow him as the marker that ties him to his previous life. Then you'll recognize him the moment you see him. But even if I don't, I'll love you then too. You don't need reminders of who he was to make you want him again.

Whatever the outcome may be, you will embrace it wholly.

"Whenever that happens, I'm gonna find you and I'm going to love you all over again. You can be a girl or a giant or a fishman." Or maybe he'll be the tiny human and you'll be the giant. It will be nice being taller than Ace for once, you tell him as much with a laugh. There's a spot of wetness at the corner of his eyes that you wipe away instinctively. "Or… maybe this world runs in one big loop and we get to be us again but that time we get to make different choices. Do the stuff we didn't do last time. But regardless of all the different things I might end up doing, the one thing that is gonna stay the same is that I'll choose you all over again."

There's a pause before Ace ducks from your gaze with a wet laugh, forehead pressed against your shoulder again. The unmistakeable feel of warm droplets subsequently follow. "Thatch must be cutting onions," he chuckles weakly. "Sorry."

"Dummy," you wrap your arms around his shoulders and inhale his scent. There's a natural sweetness to it you can't explain; it's sweet but there is a peppery kick. It's been that way since the first day you met him. I love him, I love him, I love him. The sentiment echoes throughout your entire being. "it's okay to cry."

"Would you really want me again?" His voice is soft and unsure like a young bird who doesn't know if it can trust its wings.

Who else would I want?

Why would I want anyone else?

I've known you for 10 years, Ace. There's nothing about you I don't want.

"Over and over again," you kiss his temple once, twice and then a third time before you lift his head and kiss the corners of his eyes. "It's you and no one else."

A noise of surprise escapes you when Ace's lips press against your own but you relax a beat later, humming tenderly. You relish every sensation, how his arms wrap around you tight and how his fingers gently dig into your back. The taste of salt on your lips is akin to the ocean and your heartbeat reverberates throughout your chest.

Yes, it's telling you something precious.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #31

You and I, we’re not the same.

Imagine dis…

Corrupted ectoplasm is always the main reason why Jason had a pit rage. I know it was because he was dumped in Lazarus' pits when he was found wandering around.

What if I offer you guys another reason why he rages so much?

…

Lady Gotham is devastated by her little squire, her beloved child laid to rest. The little boy used to play around her alley as if it was the best playground he ever played in. The little boy whom she shielded personally with her shadows to hide from those who wished harm to her child. The little boy who shines the brightest when he laughs, and that good-for-nothing pest killed him. 

If she had enough strength within her city she would have already dragged that clown’s soul to the deepest and darkest place of her realm but couldn't. She needed whatever ectoplasm and strength she had to bring him back. Her Dark Knight is getting reckless by the day, gone the knight that would protect and see the goodness in this cesspool of a city, was replaced by a man who is still grieving for the loss of his child and taking it out on everyone but mostly himself. 

The boy rose and could dig himself out but his father didn't find him, someone else did.

That day Lady Gotham wailed in devastation. Every Gothamite felt and heard something, from the people who had hidden in the deepest of corners of her city for protection to the labyrinths that hold countless undead Talons all of whom simultaneously shivered as they all seemingly heard a mother’s scream that had just lost her child again.

…

It was assassins that had found him that was true but they didn't find him in his grave, they had found him wandering around with instincts and muscle memory as his only tool to survive. At first, Ra thought that he was the missing link, the key to everlasting life but after countless research and experiments thought that Jason Todd was a fluke in the greater systems. Seeing that Talia’s leverage on her beloved is about to be disposed of, she immediately throws Jason into the pits as it may have not raised the dead but he is alive enough for the pits to heal.

When Jason Todd was dipped into the green glowing waters of the Lazarus pits they didn't see it…

They didn't see the way the pits seemed to split Jason Todd in half. As if answering a man or a father’s prayer.

I need no other child as long as mine can split themselves in half.

At that moment, deep within the deep waters of the pits, there were two. 

One who looked far too different from what he looked like before, a body that had been fixed by the pits. 

One who had been left behind, the body of a teen who had been too malnourished.

The pits split Jason Todd apart, while the other one started to gasp for air and began swimming to the top, the other continued to sink into the endless pit.

No one was there to witness it but as the other one sank deeper a portal manifested behind the sinking Jason Todd swallowing him whole as if there was no one else.

…

Jason knew the moment he woke up in the middle of the Lazarus pit, was rage. RAGE for naively believing his birth giver yet she had given him to the Joker for safety, RAGE for not being avenged by his father, RAGE for being replaced before his body even turned cold… 

rage for something, MISSING?!?!?!!?

Jason knew that there was a part of him missing, maybe it was the once young innocent naïve child that loved theater, perhaps it was the once hopeful child to help their home into something more, but it was because deep down he knew that there was something wrong with him.

He had memories missing or even spotty and blurry at best. He knew he used to help Alfred around the kitchen but the feelings and the details behind such core memory vanished. The sense of joy and utter happiness, when DAD Bruce bought a first edition book that he had been eyeing for a while, the fear and dread to open and read, said book in fear of damaging his first ever gift.

He knew that if the rest knew of it he would be kicked out, just when they were both trying to mend their broken bridges. So he kept it all in memories and emotions that should have been present are gone as if someone had cut through him and dragged those out.

But it all clicked in one normal night during patrol.

…

He was just swinging from one building to another when he felt it, a pulse, calling out to him. Every inch of him is screaming to follow it as if something is begging him to go, so he does.

Upon arriving at, his former rundown apartment. Where he and his mom, Catherine, once shared and called home. 

Slowly entering the said apartment there he saw his old room where he and Catherine slept while cuddling when she had drugs out of her system. 

A teen, looks exactly like him, same eyes that have the same shade of blue that the butler managed to capture before his death. The shape of his eyes, the way his hair was styled, the way he looked at Jason as if he was in danger.

But the moment the two of them met their eyes something clicked inside them.

They are each other’s half…

…

Jason and Danny, after he introduced himself which made him a bit confused and so that there would be no mix-ups seeing both of them are technically Jason Peter Todd, both began exchanging stories to each other seeing that even though they have no idea how and why they were separated better yet they don’t know how come Danny traveled to the past to be raised normally.

…

As Danny begins to narrate his story Jason can’t help but let his mind wander here he is. Talking to a version of him if Joker didn’t happen. A smart and innocent version of him that has a loving family, and haven’t have any blood in their hands. The perfect son, something Bruce would be ecstatic about. He is ruling over Crime Alley using every dirty trick in the book. Yet a version of him became the perfect vigilante, despite death wanting to do good and see good in everyone. 

I am the sinner, and you are the saint.

…

I am the sinner, and you are the saint.

Danny thought as he in turn listened to his other part, he knew that that Jason the one in front of him was the one who made it out. While he merely drifted at the bottom, Danny felt envious of Jason despite the two being the same person just different experiences. Yet the moment he regained Jason Todd-Wayne’s memories he can't help but laugh at fate for pulling their strings. A billionaire who wanted to be his son, eccentric parents, dying once again with no mom nor dad within sight… He was laughing deep within his room when he got his memories back. 

Even Clockwork looked at him with pity? Sympathy? sorry? He doesn't care when the ghost visits him for a timely visit.

Here he is looking at the version of him if he ever came back to Bruce. The father had yelled at him about not wanting teenage rebellion from him. When he remembered his memories it was already far too long when the League of Assassins had him and Bruce already had a shinier Robin, a perfect son and the perfect brother to Richard Grayson. So he didn’t reach out despite remembering each code that could verify his identity. Each secret and each whisper that only Jason Todd knew and experienced.

So he stayed, stayed with a family that practically raised him a family that neglected him and their biological daughter. But in the end, he still died, for their cause, he may be considered a trained individual but fought humans, not immortal-like beings that seem to have their version of madness.

His parents whom he grew to love and care for parents despite their shortcomings, still opened him up and explored his insides when they learned the truth.

It made him chuckle, he just never did learn, did he…

He escaped, running from one city to another, never staying for too long as many heroes despite their dislike of him when Grayson made his hatred known for him, learned and still watched him grow into a young teen.

So when he was living from one state to another, to avoid detection, lose his trail, escape his hunters, going back to his training as Robin as well as the memory of being a street kid deep within Gotham’s dirty alley. So when he first entered the city boundaries, Danny could feel it, the way Lady Gotham immediately welcomed him.

He heard it all, how Red Hood controlled crime, how he staking his claim on Crime Alley that even the Bats had forsaken. How within his rule was better than any gang or leader who did try and control that section of Gotham.

Danny can’t help but feel envy, here his other self doing good to the place where he crawled from. His other being the vigilante who made a change, has the drive to fight and protect, the drive to dirty his hands to ensure that the kids in his territory live a somewhat normal life. So when he made eye contact he knew that he was the sinner.

So here he was talking and listening to a grown Jason Todd of him. It made him cringe the moment he saw him, it made him think of Dan, the way he stood, his expressions, and even the tiniest of details. The anger, if Danny and Jason never met again despite one knowing of the other’s identity.

…

If one looked from outside of their little bubble one would see two beings. Who truly understood, acknowledged, and accepted each other. No matter how different the two are, one would comment that they look like soulmates, who gravitate toward each other and readily accept each other’s edges. One would whisper that the two are brothers, who support each other and rely to each other.

No matter, the Gothamites muttered, Gotham never have felt more content and at home than the day they saw Jason Todd, the supposed right-hand man of Red Hood, and Danny Nightgale, the Gotham’s guardian for the children. Talking and spending time to each other.

Now, if only Batman and Co. stop sneaking in to take a glance at their new resident.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[smileyoongle]

Pairing- VampireKing!Jungkook × Human!Reader

Genre- Arranged Marriage AU (Sort of?), Enemies to Lovers, Soulmate AU

Summary- Jeon Jungkook was known to be a tyrant, destroying anything and everything to get what he wanted. And this time, he wanted you.

A/N- Hi guys, this chapter is not essentially a chapter in the series. It is more like an explanation of the current world order in the series' timeline. Please remember, there is going to be no taglist for this series, so keep your notifications on. Okay bye :-)

The Exodus: Unveiling the Origins and Consequences of the Night-Walker Dominion

By Elara Claxon

July 14th 1324

Three thousand years ago, the world witnessed a cataclysmic event known as The Exodus. It was a day when Hell, overwhelmed by an unprecedented number of sinners, could no longer contain them. In an act of desperation, the Devil unleashed these tormented souls upon the Earth, transforming them into vampires. They emerged from their graves, giving birth to an era of terror and bloodshed. These night-walkers, driven by an insatiable thirst for blood, wreaked havoc across the world, decimating entire populations and forcing humanity into hiding.

For years, humans struggled to survive, constantly on the run, seeking refuge from their relentless pursuers. In the midst of this chaos, they began to uncover the weaknesses of these creatures and devise means to counter their strength. It was during this dark period that two self-chosen leaders emerged—Theron for the humans and Aristarchus for the vampires. These leaders, whose names have since become legendary, met in secret to negotiate a fragile peace.

At the time, the world was divided into thirteen nations. Theron and Aristarchus brokered an agreement to partition these nations based on mutual understanding, creating a semblance of order amid the chaos. For a while, this uneasy truce held, allowing both humans and night-walkers to coexist in their respective territories.

However, not all vampires were content with the division. A faction of them, hungry for absolute power, revolted against the established order. They waged a brutal campaign, overthrowing the human-controlled kingdoms one by one until only a single human nation remained. Today, the world is divided into twelve vampire kingdoms and one human kingdom, a stark testament to the aftermath of the great night-walker revolt.

To govern their expanding dominion, the monsters established a ruling council known as the Domini, composed of the seven oldest and most powerful night-walkers. These ancient beings, with centuries of wisdom and strength, assumed control over the night-walker kingdoms. They decreed that one vampire would be chosen as Emperor, tasked with overseeing all thirteen kingdoms. Despite this, the human kingdom remained autonomous, refusing to acknowledge the night-walker emperor’s rule.

The Domini also codified a set of laws and principles in a tome called "The New Order." This book became the cornerstone of vampire governance, outlining the rights and responsibilities of both the Primas and the Foundlings. Primas, the pure-bred who were awakened from the grave by Hell or some miracle, held a revered status. Foundlings, created from turned humans, were often treated as outcasts within their own society.

In recent times, tensions have reached a boiling point. The humans, determined to reclaim their lost territories and sovereignty, have incited revolts across the vampiric kingdoms. These uprisings have led to widespread destruction and loss of life on both sides. Cities lie in ruins, and the streets run red with the blood of humans and night-walkers alike.

The world now stands on the brink of another great upheaval. The delicate balance maintained by The New Order is crumbling under the weight of renewed conflict. As humans fight to regain their power and night-walkers struggle to maintain their dominance, the future of this fractured world hangs in the balance. The Domini, once thought to be the unassailable rulers of the night-walker kingdoms, find their authority challenged at every turn. The ancient treaties and laws that once held the world together are now mere relics of a forgotten era.

In this tumultuous landscape, the fate of humanity and night-walker-kind alike is uncertain. The echoes of The Exodus still reverberate through the ages, a grim reminder of the chaos that can ensue when the balance of power is disrupted. As both sides prepare for the battles to come, one thing is clear: the world as it once was will never be the same again.

Stay vigilant, stay informed, and may we never lose hope.

For information, or to report news, please find us at:

23 Shadowed Alley, Raven's Cross, Valoria

The Eyewitness Post | Keeping the Light of Truth Alive in the Darkest Times

[smoke-and-silver]

Alpha Ghoul - Characterization

My personal interpretation of Alpha, for reference.

He is the very first summon. At the founding of the ministry he was raised from the pit before any other Ghoul. To this day no one can make the man retire. He will be there when the stones of the cathedral crack apart and tumble to the earth.

He is 5'8", with a lighter frame than the other ghouls that were summoned just after him--these were Aether, Ifrit, and Omega, in my canon. They formed the first group of Ghouls in the ministry and, while Alpha was certainly the most sleek of the bunch, he is still solidly built.

Mountain usually tends to the garden now, but what most don't know is that Alpha planted half of it. When the ministry's walls were still being built, he knelt down in the dirt with the first Mothers and Sisters of Sin and buried the seeds that would eventually grow to cover the courtyard.

For the first few months, he could barely sleep. The ministry was still new and vulnerable and he was so vigilant against any potential threats that he hardly allowed himself to rest. He'd walk the halls and gardens, checking their wards, listening intently for anything out of place. It took time for his fellow ghouls to ease him into a full night's sleep.

There's a chair just outside the nuns' quarters that he's still found fast asleep in some nights. Father Nihil placed it there for him when it became apparent that he tended to linger in that area. He likes to be near the Sisters in case anything happens. It's difficult to get him into his own bed in the den. That chair is more worn than his mattress.

He's there, and has been there, for every birth, death, marriage and baptism. New babies have each felt a kiss pressed to their forehead by the old ghoul. New Sisters have found him waiting with open arms--and towels--after their baptisms and initiations. He ties the hands of newlyweds for their handfasting and blesses every grave at the end of a life. No soul passes through the ministry untouched by Alpha's warmth.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Horror Movies Pt. 2 | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary: She shares a special passion for horror movies with her boss, Neil Lewis. But it doesn't end there, she also shares his secrets... or at least the ones he can keep himself. He's been keeping one from her but maybe a night of adventure will break the silence and scare them to their senses.

Warnings: Drinking, semi-public sex, boss/employee relationship, struggles with self-image, spying, invasion of privacy, slight disrespect for the dead, smut, moments of miscommunication and assumed consent, unprotected sex, oral, and some fluff.

word count: 3229k

Lady Grinning Soul- David Bowie 🎶

Freak- Lana Del Rey 🎵

Minors do not interact!

“What are you doing, Neil?” She whispered, not wanting to trespass. 

“Having a little adventure since our act of chivalry was all for naught.” He shrugged and smiled goofily. 

“You want to play golf?” She looked between the dark green and Neil’s face. 

“Nah, not golf.” 

She stared at him for a little while longer before ducking beneath the fence. He followed her and they started to cross the green, looking up at the star studded sky. 

“The stars are so pretty tonight.” She pointed up at the clusters of twinkling lights. 

“Wait until you see what I have to show you.” He smiled mischievously and took her wrist. He pulled her across the golf course and through the connecting gate. 

“Where are we now?” She looked around and noticed the distant groupings of headstones. “Are we in a cemetery?” 

“Bingo.” Neil laughed and let her wrist go, running ahead a little. The graveyard was cool and still, surrounded on all sides by tall shrubbery. They climbed the short hill up onto the main stretch of green, walking alongside the grave markers. 

“This feels like the beginning of a horror movie.” She recalled Neil’s previous statement from the morning and he laughed. 

“I like to come here at night. It’s so peaceful and I like to look at the people’s names. It helps put my life into perspective.” He led her to a small mausoleum beside a weeping willow and swiped his arm across his forehead. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He gestured around and she nodded. 

“It really is but… what does this have to do with the bra?” 

“Ah, well since you can’t use it and Nancy doesn’t want it back, I thought we could leave it as an offering… here.” 

“Who do you want to give it to?” 

“Someone who died the same day that one of us was born.” He stated as he had already begun looking. She helped him and they passed the lines of headstones, checking each name for their respective birth and death dates. They wandered through a few plots until they found a secluded embankment. There was an older headstone with Neil’s birthday listed as the person’s death date. 

“Here.” Neil pointed to the numbers on the stone and smiled up at her from the ground where he was crouched. She joined him on the ground and nodded. “Edgar Allen… that’s almost too weird. It must be a fake name. Edgar Allen? He just needs a ‘Poe.’” 

She trailed her fingers over his name and nodded. 

“So, how do we do this?”

“What, are you saying that you’ve never left an expensive bra at a dead person’s grave?” He joked and she almost laughed out loud when he put his hand over her mouth, shushing her with a smile. 

“You’ll wake the dead.” He whispered and she smiled against his hand, her eyes boring into his. She hoped that her eyes were telling him what she wanted or how happy she was to be with him, even if it was in a fucking cementary. He removed his hand slowly and cleared his throat. Sweat coating his forehead, trapping a few strands of his longer dark hair. 

“We, uh, let’s just drape it over the headstone.” He put the bra over the long rectangular top of the stone. 

“We should say a few words.” She offered and cleared her throat quietly, “May I?” She glanced over at him. Neil was staring at her, his lips parted partly. 

“Uh, er, yeah. Of course.” He sniffed and looked back at the headstone. 

“Mr. Allen, we leave you this offering in hopes that you will bestow upon us the grace of your guidance and experience. Inspire us to be brave and forward with our… desires,” she couldn’t think of a better word, “Help us imagine ways of living our lives to the fullest.” She added. When she glanced over, Neil was nodding almost absentmindedly. 

“Give us a little adventure in our lives, Edgar.” He clarified. 

“Mhmm.” She hummed in agreement and they waited in silence for a few minutes, taking in the serene peacefulness of the graveyard. 

“If this were a horror movie, we would be-” She broke the silence but the force of Neil’s body cut her off. He’d kissed her, his hands snaking behind her head and pulling her into an aggressive kiss. She pulled away breathlessly, he was panting too.

“What-” She started.

“I’m sorry, christ. I thought you were… sending me a signal.” He stumbled over his words. 

“You thought I was asking you to make a move on top of someone’s grave?” She raised a suspicious eyebrow and he chuckled, embarrassed. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I just… oh I don’t know.” He trailed off and stood, putting his hands back into his pocket and turning away from the grave. She followed him quickly. 

“What, Neil?” She stumbled after him, up the embankment. He spun around and held a hand against his head.

“I just… I thought that lately there was something different between us.” He looked away. 

“Neil…” she frowned and fought the anger in her voice, “you just fucked someone last night. I don’t know if I should believe anything that you’re saying right now.” She crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at the sky. 

“I, well we didn’t actually… have sex.” He mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” She raised her eyebrow. 

“God, this is so fucking embarrassing,” he pulled down on his face and trilled his lips. 

“What, what is it?” He nearly smiled, finding him too funny to take seriously. 

“Well, she came into the store right before closing last night and put on this whole act about which movie to pick… kind of like the girl in the store today. I told her to pick Arsenic and Old Lace… yada yada yada, she ends up flirting and leaning over the counter, batting her eyelashes at me. I’ll admit that I succumbed to her but as soon as she got me on the couch, she started… eh slapping me and calling me a bad boy and look, I totally get kinks but it was a little too weird for me.” 

“So what happened?” She encouraged him to go on and he looked back at her, his heart fluttering in his chest. He sighed and looked at his feet. 

“We watched the movie and the whole time she wouldn’t stop talking, so she missed basically everything. And when the movie was over, she started kissing me and undressing herself. And when she got my pants down, I couldn’t get it up. So, that’s what happened.” 

She gasped and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t funny, Neil,” she apologized but he shook his head. “Whatever, go ahead and laugh. I don’t know how it happened but I just wasn’t attracted to her. I don’t need a girl who’s a film geek like me but I can’t stand people who just talk through a movie or pay absolutely no attention to what’s happening. There’s not point in putting it on if you’re not going to pay attention. And not to mention she looked-” He cut himself off and chucked. 

“What?” She waited for him to finish but he shook his head. 

“It’s silly.” He sniffed. 

“We’ve already gotten this far, you might as well tell me.” 

He cocked his head, staring at her face in the faded light of the crescent moon. He inhaled deeply and told her, point blank. 

“She looked like you,” he took another breath, “she looked like you but she was nothing like you. I realized that I was only humoring her because she looked like you and for some reason, my subconscious had tricked me into thinking she was you. And after that, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He watched her for her reaction and she exhaled shakily, not knowing how to respond. 

“What happened after that?” She asked quietly. 

“I told her that it wasn’t a good night and she packed up. In the heat of the moment, she must have forgotten her bra but look,” he took a step closer, “that doesn’t mean our relationship needs to change. It's not like I’m in love with you or obsessed, I just realized that the person that I was really attracted to this whole time has been you.” He looked down into her eyes. “I didn’t have time to explain it this morning and I knew how it looked so…” He shrugged, “I actually haven’t slept with anyone in weeks. Ever since you got the haircut actually, I guess I haven’t stopped thinking about you whether or not I was conscious of it.” 

“Jonathan asked me out.” Was all she could think to say and Neil chuckled lightly. 

“That’s a minor detail.”

“He’s one of your best friends.” 

“And because he’s one of my best friends, he’ll understand why I’m doing this.” 

“What if I don’t like you back?” She narrowed her eyes, wanting to stand her ground a little longer. He took one more step closer, their feet almost touching and he leaned over slightly, his breath brushing her forehead.

“Do you like me?” He asked softly. 

“I don’t know,” she lied. He brushed his lips against hers. 

“Do you want to find out?” He teased her and her breath caught, nearly choking her. She couldn’t speak from the nerves paralyzing her, so she just nodded. He rubbed his lips against her lips, not kissing her yet. She brushed her nose against the soft spot of skin below his nose and above his lip, standing on the balls of her feet. Her hands came up and stopped midair, unsure how or where to touch him. Turning his head slightly to the side he kissed her. His hands went from the top of her thighs to her waist and then up to her neck, which he held in place while he moved his head to kiss her. He stood still and reciprocated his slow kisses as best as she could. She put her hands on the outside of his and wrapped her fingers around each wrist. He sucked on her lip and she let her head fall back, giving him a better angle. She stumbled back a little and he caught her in his arms, his lips never skipping a beat as he sucked her and explored her. 

“Are we going to fuck in a graveyard?” She panted, pulling herself away from his hungry mouth. Neil smiled and looked around at the deserted cemetery, empty with the exception of the dead. He shrugged. 

“Do you think they’ll hold it against us? Haunt us for the rest of our lives?” She smiled.

“Are you kidding? They’re probably dying for a show.” He cracked himself up over his own pun and she rolled her eyes affectionately. She kissed him again before he could make another joke and pulled him into the alcove of a mausoleum. There was a stone casket beside the mausoleum and they stumbled over to it, wordlessly deciding to fuck against it. He pressed her back up against the cold stone which felt amazing in the humid summer air. He groped her breasts and she slid a hand down Neil’s chest below the waistband of his jeans. She reached her hand into his underwear and took a hold of his hard cock. She smiled against his lips. 

“It obviously wasn’t a problem this time, was it?” She teased and he groaned, looking up at the sky. 

“No, no, it wasn’t.” He laughed breathlessly as she rubbed her hand down his length, twisting her palm at the end. He went back to kissing her but broke off to whine and pant occasionally as she jerked him off. She pulled her hand back out and spat on it before returning it back into his pants. She fondled his balls and squeezed them, making him gasp against her lips. He reached a hand up her camisole and wrestled his hand beneath her bra. He was definitely a breast man. 

She removed her hand from his pants and pulled his pelvis against her by looping her fingers through his belt loops. With his free hand, Neil unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped the fly. She did the same for his jeans and turned around, sticking her butt against his hard crotch. 

“Fuck…” Neil looked at her ass and felt himself get even harder. He pulled her back against him by holding her shoulder. He kissed her bare neck and carded his hands through her cropped hair. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered and she sighed softly. At that moment, she felt infinitely beautiful, so beautiful that it would last a lifetime. He pulled down his pants slightly and glanced around before bending her over again. She pulled down her jeans and rubbed her underwear against him like before. She held her hands flat against the stone casket monument and opened her mouth, nearly moaning in anticipation of Neil’s cock inside her. He slowly rolled down her underwear, the hipster style that covered her butt. They were white, ironically. 

Exposing her ass, he moaned and reached around to her cunt and rubbed her clit. 

“God, fuck me already, Neil.” She pleaded and he nodded. 

“Are you wet enough? I don’t have a condom.” 

“I’m soaking wet, Neil. Don’t worry about the condom. It’s ok with me.” 

“Ok, ok.” He smiled and spat on his hand, rubbing the saliva over her folds. Then he did it again, smearing his spit on his own cock. She gasped loudly when he pushed his tip inside her. He grabbed her hips and tried to stop himself from rutting into her. 

“Fuck, go slow… you’re so big.” She whimpered and moaned as he slowly pushed further in. He gasped pitifully and resisted the urge to cum immediately like a schoolboy. 

“Jesus, you feel so good.” He panted and watched as his cock went further inside her. She clutched her uterus, trying to allow him to enter her. He whined as she did so and gave a few tiny thrusts. 

“Ah, ahh.” He moaned weakly and started to fuck her more regularly, feeling her walls begin to mold around him. “Oh fuck, its so good.” He pulled her hips against him with a harder thrust and she cried out softly, her hands sweating against the stone. As she became wetter, he slid in and out faster, hitting the bottom of her uterus each time. 

“Jesus, Neil!” She moaned and pushed herself against him, wanting him further inside. 

“I can’t go any farther, honey. You’re not big enough.” He whispered against her neck and continued to fuck her with the same primal sexuality as a dog in heat. She hummed to keep herself from screaming out. 

“Fuck yes, this is so good.” He praised her and went faster, his pale legs shaking with pleasure. He felt like he was losing his virginity all over again, needing to come already and they had just started. He pulled out and spun her around to kiss her, his hand holding her chin up to reciprocate his kiss. He switched places with him and pushed him onto the ground where he was sitting on the grass. She kicked off her jeans and underwear, still in her shoes and socks and straddled him. He whimpered as she lowered herself onto him and sat completely on him. She shifted her hips back and forth, wanting him to stay completely inside her. His back was against the stone. When she started to feel her orgasm approaching he started to move up and down, snapping on top of his cock in quick movements that made them both cry out.

“Mmmm, fuck…” Neil panted and looked up at her, studying how her head fell back and her neck arched out towards him. He looked down and watched how her cunt took him, so wet that precum dribbled down his cock onto his pubic hair. 

“Um, God, Neil, I’m gonna cum.” She panted and he smiled. 

“Come here,” he wrapped his arms around her and turned her around again, laying her flat on her back on the grass and thrusted into her again. She gasped and clutched a handful of grass above her head. She wrapped her thighs around his waist and he sat on his knees, pulling her up to meet him. He fucked her hard and fast, pounding his pelvis against hers. The muscles in his butt clenched as he fucked her desperately. She covered her mouth and cried out in pleasure. She squirted but he continued to fuck her, chasing his own high. 

“I’m so close.” He panted and ran his hand down her chin. She looked so beautiful below him, mouth still slightly agape in a pleasurable ‘O’ shape. “Fuck! Oh my God.” He cried and pulled out quickly so that he wouldn’t cum inside her. She rolled over and sucked him off, allowing him to fuck her throat weakly as he finally spilled him cum down her throat. She rolled her tongue around his cock and licked the tip as he pulled out, panting like he had just run a race. He collapsed beside her on the ground and laughed in disbelief. She laughed too, covering her face with her hands. 

“Fucking hell.” She laughed into her hands. “That was the best I ever had,” she admitted and he smiled proudly. 

“Honestly it was mine too, and my first time in a cemetery, I’ll admit.” 

“What, you’re saying to don’t fuck all your girlfriends here?” She teased and he shook his head, rolling it side to side on the ground. A pleasant silence settled between them as they caught their breath. She tried to ignore the fact that she mentioned girlfriends. Neil flopped his head to the side and watched her, her long eyelashes fluttering as she blinked. 

“Is that what you are now?” He asked.

“Am I what?”

“Are you my girlfriend now?” He clarified with a small smirk. 

“Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” She laughed and looked away.

“No…” He rolled on top of her and kissed her all over her face, “this is my way of asking. Will… you… be… my… girlfriend?” He asked between feverish kisses. She giggled and propped herself up on her elbows, kissing him back. He slowed his kisses down and she pulled away with a happy sigh. 

“I guess so.” She said finally and he raised his shoulder to his ears, looking around in childish glee.

“Oh, come on!” She pushed him playfully away and stood. He helped her change back into her clothes and they fixed their clothing. She combed through Neil’s hair with her fingers and nodded her approval. Neil looked down at his watch and nodded. 

“The store opens in exactly seven hours, whatever will we do with our time?” He wrapped his arms around her, clamping her arms against her sides and kissing her neck. 

“I have an idea.” She smiled around his kisses.

“What?” 

“Take me home.” 

“What if you’re a serial killer?” He faked a sense of suspicion. 

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find out.” She teased and kissed him deeply, her index finger pressed against the hollow of his cheek.

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello gorgeous! if you don't mind modern au, i have an idea. if you don't feel like writing anything it'd be great to hear your thoughts abt it. daemon x wife!reader (who's somehow connected with magic but not targaryen) who are devoted to each other like madly in love. before daemon has to go to war they're saying goodbyes kissing, crying and not being able to let the other go. feeling like something's off he says smth like "i'll find you in another life. i'll find you in any time we'll be existing. i will love you any time i am alive" (in high valyrian or calling her some name in it) kissing her knuckles and going away. unfortunately, he was right. reader died some way while he was away and he remains faithful to her for the rest of his life (oc but whatever) and in the modern world he does find her. maybe targaryens are some sort of royal family, maybe they keep a family business or an ordinary family with lots of relatives. but he fins the reader and they somehow just feel. sorry if it's too much. i'd really like to read something about it but it absolutely ok if you don't feel like it. thank u in advance! take care!

Waiting For A Lifetime

Part 1 2 3 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader cos it just sorta happened

Summary: Overcome by grief, Daemon turned to black magic to revive you. Moved by pity, the witch who casted the spell promised you would live until you met your love again in his next life.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Modern AU, fem!reader, mentions/depictions of death/still birth/war, my pretty boy aegon whom i would die for, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i saw this last night when i woke up in the middle of my sleep and couldn't stop thinking about it. I changed a lot about your req nonnie. I do hope you still like it though. I absolutely could not help myself with this one and I got so carried away T_T also a lot of facts about the Targaryens have distorted so just just just roll with it ok ok ok thank you And yes i know this is a gif from the crown but i love it so much the hat falling off the kiss ITS EVERYTHING I WANT TO BE HERRRRRRRRRRRRR also i do acknowledge the fact that this anon came to me with this idea after i reblogged this amazing moodboard sooooo yeah i think this post sparked this fic idea lol ALSO ALSO ALSO 2022 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! LOVE YA ALL imagine seeing this post in like 2032 or smth shit thats like 35 years from now Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony pssst i made p2 "Never Before"

Daemon's face was streaked with tears and sorrow. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice was as sure as it was grave as he repeated the word he uttered to the shaman, "anything."

She looked at him, able to taste the desperation in the air, "even if it costs your life, prince?"

Daemon looks at his love before him, his love that was carrying his child. He places his bloody palm on the gaping wound on her stomach.

"Your child will not live even if she does."

Daemon screws his eyes shut tightly. He begins to quiver in anger, in grief, in pure sorrow. He mutters, "anything," he slowly opens his eyes to gaze upon her lifeless face, "better it me than her. There is no world worth living without her."

The woman narrows her eyes at the prince. She knew he was the Targaryen, once heir, known to be rugged and harsh. The Rouge Prince. Yet, there was no trace of malice within his being, only what she would describe as true devotion, true love.

"So, may it be done by the gods old and new," she says, drawing the prince's attention to her, "I will plead for her soul that she may live."

Daemon watches the witch, as she stands to her feet from the ground they were both sprawled on, in front of the body of the dead woman.

"I will plead that she may live long enough to meet you again in another life, so that you may have the love you have now once more."

"Another life?"

"Yes," she says, "the gods recreate humans they are pleased with to grace the earth again. I am certain they will let you be reborn to be with her again. I will make it certain."

Daemon grabs the cold hand that was beginning to stiffen.

"Although, I am unsure if they will allow you to remember her."

"I will remember her," Daemon retorts, kissing the hand of his love, "I will remember her no matter form I take... I will, I must."

"So it remains to be seen," she says before speaking out her incantation.

And it would not be seen until nearly 2000 years later.

The times have changed drastically. Women wore pants and voted. Men where made to take more responsibility for their actions, though still got away with things.

And yet...

... my love for him never faded.

Every prince that was born and named Daemon, I hoped would finally be him. It went about like this century after century, war after war, plague after plague, rise after fall. I had feared the Targaryens would die out, but they proved to be as strong as the very foundations of the earth.

And it took the televised of the marriage of Viserys XXIX to Duchess Aemma of Eyrie for me to see the face of my love: Daemon, the Wild Child, the Knight of Knickers, as penned by the press. Ultimately, the prince of my heart.

I burst into tears when I saw his cheeky face as he nudged his brother at the isle. I pressed my hands on the screen, thinking to myself, the wait was finally over, he was finally here.

All that was left was for me to meet the Prince of Valyria.

Yes. That would be no problem at all.

Except it was, because Daemon was just as mad as he was in this life as he was in the last.

After all, he did not get those nicknames from the press for nothing.

I used up so many of my resources to even just get a glimpse of him. It was hard to catch him in one place. I mostly caught him with a scandalous headline in the cover of magazines and newspapers.

Tonight, it was a newspaper.

"You know," the bartender taps his finger on my newspaper that was sprawled out on his bar, "he's a frequent here."

I turn to the blonde, in his white dress shirt, black waist apron, and black slacks. I raise a brow as he purses his lips as though the information was ground breaking. He wipes on a glass with his blue towel.

"Gee, Aegon," I lean on the surface before me, "I would have never guessed that from the picture on the wall."

I nod at the said picture. It's one of Daemon and the current owner of the bar, Tywin Lannister, who also happened to own Lannister Land Corp, shaking hands. Oh, Lannisters.

"Hey," Aegon shrugs, pulling his lips down in a nuff-said manner, "it had to be said, since you're literally the only patron here that has not interrogated me with questions about the Knight of Knickers."

I snort, "then allow me to change that," I rest my head on my hand, "is he truly so dashing that his looks practically steal the knickers of the ladies around him?"

Aegon finishes buffing his glass and puts it down, looking up in thought, "mmm, I think it's mostly cause he's a prince that he's got the effect he's got. I've got no idea what possessed the first girl to throw her panties at him."

I giggle, "are you saying the prince is ugly?"

"Bit harsh, innit," Aegon pulls back, getting another glass, rubbing it down with his towel, "your words, not mine."

I roll my eyes, shaking my head, as I laugh at the light haired boy's muses, "you know, if we had been living at the height of the Targaryen rule, Daemon would have had your head for that, pretty boy."

"Gods, to be beheaded," he sighed, "a dream, rather than working here, taking about some monarch who lives off the money of the people."

I snort once more. Aegon's face softens as he breaks into a laugh himself.

"No, but honestly," he says putting down the glass and the towel, "you, my dear, are my saving grace. The highlight of my begrudgingly stretched out day," he stretches out a hand to me.

I chuckle at him as I take his hand. He presses a kiss on the back of it, making me grin at him in amusement.

"You're the only sane person here," he releases my hand, "everyone else is so desperate to brush shoulders with the prince, or simply even catch a of whiff of his flatulence."

I break out into a fit of chuckles, slamming firmly at the wood between us.

"No, I'm serious! I heard the fittest gal, a total bombshell, boasting with pride about how she managed a sniff of the bloke's fart."

I'm wheezing with laughter, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

Aegon releases a deep and dramatic sigh, "what has the world come to?"

I wipe a tear as Aegon watches me empty myself of laughter. His face crinkles in a pleased expression, Adam's apple bobbing as he chuckles airily.

I sigh, catching my breath, "well, if I ever become that desperate, I ask that you pray for my soul."

Aegon presses his palms together, "praying for that girl as we speak."

I chuckle, folding the newspaper before me, "I must say, I am actually desperate to meet the wild child myself."

Aegon drops his hands along with his humored expression.

I cannot help but laugh at him as I continue to fold the paper, "though, I would say I am the desperate kind that is so desperate..." I eye him as I press the grey material together, "that I, somehow, dread to meet him at all."

Aegon snorts, screwing his eyes shut as he wipes his face, "the Stranger. Don't say things like that! I nearly had a heart attack believing you."

"No, but it's true, Aegon!" I say with a faux wounded pout, "prince Daemon is my great love, we have been destined to meet for millennia!"

Aegon leans on the table, humming as he nodds his head, "yes, and I suppose I am Aegon the Conqueror."

I lean towards him and grab his jaw, "no, you look more like Aegon II. The spitting image, I dare say."

He scoffs, swatting me off, "I'm hotter than him."

I pull away, "yes. That I can agree with, pretty boy. Personal hygiene does wonders."

Aegon snorts and plays off the blush on his cheeks by wiping his nose with his thumb, "you speak as though you met him."

I straighten up, "that's because I have. He was once my nephew."

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. His face contorts at the thought.

I raise my brows at him, "have I not told you I am not only a Targaryen historian, an expert at that, but I am also a patron of the Museum of Ice and Fire? I'm married into their family."

"Okay," he raises a finger, "ew."

I snort.

Aegon lifts his jaw and hums, "well, now that you mentioned it, I always knew you were one of those insanely rich blokes who frequent here. I was thinking you were a mafia boss or something though."

I scoff in amusement, raising my brows at him.

He pushes his white sleeves up then raises his hand in defense, "you have a very intense aura about you."

"That's because you trigger my fight mode," I retort.

He huffs, "do I? I'm scared to know what you'll do to me when I've seen what you do to men who hit on you."

"Aww, don't worry," I coo, "I wouldn't hurt my pretty, baby boy."

Aegon doesn't get to reply when a customer calls his attention. With this, he pulls away and leaves me to my own devices.

We don't get to continue our conversation at all, for it was clear that the rush hour had begun.

I eventually pulled back and decided to entertain myself while my favorite bartender was busy. I swiveled on my stool, looking out to the room, spotting the jukebox collecting dust in the corner. I smile at the sight of it, thinking about how it was still here after all these years, in spite of being older than Aegon.

I stand from my seat and walk over to it.

Aegon, finding one patron missing, frantically looks around then calms, raising a brow.

I place my hands on the jukebox, bending over to check if it was plugged in.

Aegon snorts as he hands a man a beer, eyes not at all fixed on him, "that doesn't work, love."

"Mmm, ye of little faith."

Aegon is annoyed by the man that sits on the vacated stool, blocking his vision. In retaliation, he blocks out the sound of his voice. Aegon calls out, "if you can make that hunkajunk work, I'll clear your tab for you."

I chuckle as I pull the machine forward, checking its wiring, "I wouldn't want to make a kid working on minimum wage to pay for me at all."

"I only said I would clear your tab, doll face," is all he replies before he goes back to tending to drinks again.

I break into chuckles as I fiddle with the wires on the back. I admit, it took me quite a while to go through everything, which was why Aegon warned that he would not call an ambulance for me if I got electrocuted.

The sight of the jukebox coming to life was enough to shut him up.

I get to my feet with a huff, brushing my hands off with each other. I turn to Aegon, who was already looking at me in astonishment, along with a few other people in the room.

I smirk, "my tab then?"

"Good as gone," Aegon shakes his head in disbelief, cutting his hand across his neck.

I release a satisfied sigh as I punch at the hardened buttons and play whatever it was that was available to be played.

When the music starts, I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off with the music. The sound brings back some memories I had in the 1940's. If I recall correctly, it was around this time Daemon's father, King Baelon, was crowned.

I slowly moved to the rhythm of the song, swaying my hips, waving my extended arms out as I made my way to the center of the room.

Aegon stilled in his spot upon seeing this. His breath caught in his throat and he was only brought back to reality when someone demanded a gin. He looked around the room as he poured that idjit his drink and clenched his jaw tightly when he saw the onlooking crowd.

He snorts loudly, grabbing his towel, throwing it over his shoulder roughly, clearing his throat with more noise than necessary.

I smile to myself when I hear Aegon's familiar coughing. He had a tendency to do this whenever men around me started to be a bother. And I loved him dearly for it. He was a sweet boy.

With my eyes still closed, I continue dancing to the soothing song. My smile grows bigger when a section comes that tickles my musical senses. I chuckle as I twirl in my spot.

When I felt a hand come to my waist, I didn't have to open my eyes to know it was Aegon. He wouldn't have let anyone come near me at all without barking up a storm.

I hummed at the scent of him, familiar yet foreign to me at once. He must have changed his cologne. I prefer this one better. He pulls me close when I reach out to him, grabbing one of his hands and placing a palm on his shoulder. His dress shirt is softer than what I imagined it to be.

I am surprised when he leads us into a ballroom dance. In fact, I am so shocked, I open my eyes and see a blur of his white shirt and blonde hair as he spins me around.

I break into a fit of chuckles, screwing my eyes shut in pure bliss when he dips me, "I had no idea you were a dancer, pretty boy."

"Yes, well, journalists don't find it interesting enough to write about."

My eyes burst open at the sound of the deep voice.

My heart is pounding at the sight of the smirking man with silver hair. I nearly faint at the violet irises so close to mine.

"I do say," his hot breath fans on my face, "if we were spotted by one now, they'd have a field day."

I jolt upright and shove the man away. He doesn't seem to be offended by my harsh actions, and, in fact, chuckles as he reels back from my action, "not what I had expected and not the reaction I usually get, but there's a first for everything."

My breath hitches when he smiles at me. I turn from him, to Aegon, who was staring coldly from his place behind the bar. It seems the rest of the people here were doing the same as well, gobsmacked by the presence of the man in the middle of the room

I roll my shoulders back, turning to my dance partner, "Prince Daemon," I mutter, bowing my head slowly, "pardon my rudeness."

He chuckles, waving me off as he stuffs a hand in his pocket, "oh, no need to be so formal, my dear. I can understand the shock," he tilts his head at me, lips still curved, "you surely weren't expecting to be dancing with the prince and thought me to be someone else, no?"

I look at him and stare in silence. For the first time in my life, I was at a loss for words.

Everything was suddenly so real, and it was making my mind and my heart race.

Aegon watches this and clears his throat loudly.

It does not help anyone.

Daemon raises his brows at me in expectation, placing his other hand in his pocket as he leans on one leg.

I open my mouth. A second passes before I mutter, "I thought you were my pretty boy."

His lips spread into a toothy grin. Airy chuckles leave him, "I can be your pretty boy."

When he extends his hand out to me, it was like the heavens opened and I could hear the angels sing.

This was the moment I have been waiting for since that day that I came back to life and kissed him goodbye with a promise of finding him in his next one.

My breath was heavily taxed when I lifted my hand.

My soul nearly leaves me when I jolt in shock over the sound of a record scratching and jumping, repeating over and over again.

In that moment, I am hit by an epiphany. I am so overwhelmed with emotions that I could barely breathe. The sight of Daemon before me brought tears to my eyes. This was all I ever wanted, and yet-- and yet-- I was drowning. I could not breathe properly.

"I..." I shudder, making Daemon's face fall, "I have to go," I mutter through a strained breath.

Daemon knits his brows, shifting in his spot with his hand still out, "what?"

Aegon watched with tightly knit brows as I ran out of the room.

The prince drops his hand and spins on his heels, eyes locked on the runaway. His nostrils flare as his face contorts in confusion, "wait! Stop! Where are you going?!"

I heave heavily as I push past people on my way out. I am absolutely winded when I exit the establishment, hands shivering from both the cold and the nerves that were getting to me in this moment.

I walk aimlessly farther out, down to the lawn that was now dark, since it was gods-know-what hour.

"Wait!"

My heart drops.

I spin around when someone grabs my wrist. My heart is still quick in my chest when I see Daemon, heaving. His short, light hair was slightly tousled in its place. He knits his brows at me, tilting his head, "you dare leave your prince, Cinderella?"

My jaw hangs low.

He releases a sigh, shaking his head, "I forbid it."

Seeing him here and now made everything feel more Real with a capital R.

Daemon adjusts his grip on my wrist, pulling his hand back, so that he was now holding my hand.

I look at him, blinking the glassiness of my eyes away, still in shock of his presence. A million questions were running through my head, and I was glad to be able to even have the mind to ask one in this moment, "do you know me, Daemon?"

He tilts his head upon hearing this, brows knitting, lips curving. He releases a chuckle at the lack of formality and how haphazard the question was, but finds himself further drawn because of it, "no," he shakes his head, "but I would love to know you."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth shatters something in me.

He did not know me.

I turn away from him as I try to even my breath. I retreat my hand and step back as a shiver runs down my spine.

And yet here he was, chasing after me.

Daemon steps forward to make up for the space between us, "don't leave. Come back inside with me. I'll give you my coat, then you can boast that the prince of Valyria gave it to you."

I continue stepping back as I shake my head, "you don't understand," I mutter under my breath in High Valyrian.

"Then make me understand," he retorts in the same tongue with a chuckle as he shakes his head and takes a wide stride over to me, grabbing my hand again.

I gasp at the warmth of his touch. When I turn back to him, tears have finally fallen from my eyes.

Daemon's face hardens at the sight of it. His hand reaches out to my face, wiping the wetness away. The sight of his torn expression tears at me, bringing me more tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asks in High Valyrian.

I do not get to reply, as suddenly there is a loud burst from behind us, commanding both our attentions.

It's Aegon. He busted through the door with my things in his hand. Upon catching the sight of the two of us, he freezes, breathing heavily as the looks out.

Daemon's expression hardens; his grip on me tightens. He turns to me, jealousy coating his mouth when he catches I where I am looking, "is that your pretty boy?"

I do not reply to him as Aegon walks over.

Daemon pulls me close to him. I look up at him with teary eyes. Aegon looks between us, jaw tense as he hands me my bag, coat, and newspaper.

"Thank you, bartender," Daemon dismisses, patting Aegon on the shoulder, before turning from him to face me again.

When I catch Aegon's face, I finally have the wits to move.

I pull away from Daemon to put my coat on. I swallow a heavy lump in my throat at feel of the stares of the two men.

Once I have my coat on, I pull a card from my bag, handing it to Daemon. He wastes no time in taking it from me, immediately scrutinizing it.

"I'd..." I start, taking a deep breath, "like to see you again."

Daemon's eyes dart to me, breaking into a smile.

Butterflies explode in my stomach at the sight of him.

Aegon's face tenses.

I release a breath before asking, "when are you fr-"

"Whenever," Daemon blurts. He places the card in the breast pocket of his white shirt, "I'm free whenever."

I nod slowly at his words, "I have work tomorrow, but I do have a long lunch at 12-

"I'll call you a 11:55."

I purse my lips at his words, trying to hold back my chuckle, but failing, "11:55?"

Daemon grins, nodding once, "on the dot."

I chuckle, turning to my feet as I nod at his words, "11:55 then."

"On the dot," he nods, extending a hand out to rub his thumb on my cheek.

I turn to him just as Daemon pulls away and stuffs his hands back in his pockets, "I'll walk you."

I shake my head, turning to Aegon, who was still standing there, watching the whole interaction between us, "you don't have to. I have a car parked nearby."

"Then I'll walk you to your car."

I turn back to Daemon, who then offers his arm out to me. I smile, unable to deny him, or myself, of the offer. I take his arm, and the next moment, he leads us off.

I turn over my shoulder, raising a hand at Aegon while I offer him a smile, "see you, Aegon."

Aegon watches as I turn back.

There is a twisted feeling inside him that grows. He mutters softly. It is too soft for anyone but himself to hear, "see you."

[fictionadventurer]

I know you don't rely on religious arguments against abortion. But I thought I'd offer my two cents on when the body is "infused" with a soul. The term almost implies the soul exists before conception. If I'm not mistaken, Christianity doesn't teach the pre-existence of the soul. The soul begins to exist the moment the body begins to exist, e.g. conception.

On whether Numbers 5:11-31 describes an abortion, compare translations of Num. 5:21-22 on Biblehub. Out of dozens of translations the NIV is the only one that uses the term "miscarry." The rest mention the shriveling of a body part, but the Hebrew word for it is vague. The same word is used to describe where Ehud stabbed King Eglon, but also where God injured Jacob. Thus some versions translate it as womb/abdomen, but a majority translate it as thigh. Also important to note that pregnancy wasn't a requirement for the ritual. Pregnant or not, the faithful wife received no harm. Pregnant or not, the unfaithful wife was found out.

Again, I know we don't have to rely on scripture to be prolife. There are many secular prolife arguments from science. But I thought you might want this in your arsenal if someone wants to argue for abortion from scripture.

Excellent point about the body and soul not being separate. Consistent with Theology of the Body.

I also found this article that goes into extreme depth about the many, many reasons that the Numbers passage does not describe abortion/forced miscarriage and the many, many other much more likely possibilities.

As long as we're discussing Biblical arguments against abortion, let's look at two New Testament ones.

The Annunciation: Mary's conception is the beginning of God coming into the world. If she'd had an abortion at any point in her pregnancy, she would have been destroying Jesus.

The Visitation: Elizabeth's son leapt in her womb upon the arrival of the Lord. This proves that he was a separate person, and that Jesus was a person long before birth. Since Elizabeth was in her sixth month of pregnancy at the time of Mary's Annunciation, Jesus is no more than three months' gestation at this time.

And to expand it to other religious arguments against abortion, since I'm Catholic, anyone who wants to argue for abortion on religious grounds had better read Evangelium Vitae first. God gave His Church teaching authority, and His Church clearly teaches that abortion is a grave evil. (When this is written by a Pope who lived through Nazi-occupied Poland and Communist-occupied Poland, you had better believe he has first-hand experience with the horrors that result when you don't value all human life.)

[quitealotofsodapop]

This goes for all the Egg aus where Wukong is with egg during the Journey, but I like or think Wukong never, explicitly, informs his Pilgrim brothers just how risky and dangerous his pregnancy was. Only Ao Lie even has a clue, and that'd only be because he overheard Wukong and Guanyin talking about it.

Cutting to Jttw and Soft Boiled au, that means when the baby comes, none of them are prepared for the seven times immortal sage to NEARLY DIE in childbirth! It's at its most chaotic and frightening in Soft Boile because they didn't have Macaque there to fill in the blanks, so from their perspective, they just were doing this very dangerous ritual when Wikogn suddenly collapses in massive amounts of pain. At first they think he had just gotten cocky and Nezha starts to yell at him after Ao Lie steps in to prevent the stray fire form hitting him and Tripitaka. But before he can smack him with his ring he pauses, seeing something that DEFINITELY shouldn't be there, and his jaw drops in horrified realization that A) Wukong is pregnant and B) the ritual had thrown him into an early labor and they'll potentially lose the baby if they don't get him some medical attention NOW!!

DBK, just hearing this is absolutely panicking. His baby boy is safe but suddenly his little brother is in labor and he recalls a small anecdote, just a bit of dialog he had with Wukong when they were bith still very young back in the Brotherhood and talking about a potential future, you're average "think you'll ever have kids" conversation. Wukong had brushed the matter off, saying that he wanted one eventually but not for a very long time since it's more risky for him. He hadn't known what he'd meant then and thought it was related to the many enemies they had.

When Guanyin and Gold Star appear (they were probably having tea or something together) and reveal that Wukong dying in childbirth is actually a very high possibility since "Stone Monkeys sacrifice their own dao to bring their young into the world," DBK suddenly has a whole new realization about what Wukong had meant and panics even harder because his bratty little brother KNEW and never fucking told any of them!

Yeah, Wukong gets into a lot of trouble when he hides just how dangerous having kids is to him.

Especially when having said kid interrupts a very dangerous ritual and sends him into early labour!

I love the mental imagery of Nezha shouting at Wukong for "getting cocky" during the Ritual, only for his own God of Children-senses to kick in as he notices an extra soul there.

In the Jttw Stone Egged/Post-Jttw Au the "extra" is MK himself, while in the Soft Boiled Au it's little Yuebei. And unlike Slow Boiled, where Yuebei is ok to chill out for a few more centuries; the second the ritual is over, the baby is ready to Go NOW.

(btw; me and a bud were discussing the hilarity and chaos that would ensue if both babies were in there. A little double-yolk egg where big chubby Xiaotian is curled protectively around his tinier sister Yuebei. XD)

DBK freaking tf OUT, cus while his baby is safe and no longer in pain from hosting a primordial fire - he just learned that Wukong's own baby is in grave danger! He quickly alerts PIF to whats happening so that they can organise Red's care and tend to Wukong at the same time.

Guanyin is like second on the scene - Nezha zipped over on his fiery rings the second he realised it was a birth-related matter, panicking as a teen boy does. Gold Star was just there checking in when he heard the news.

Overall, no matter if the other monkey is present or not; the birth of a new Stone Monkey, and the survival of the Parent, is a monumental occasion.

Even if the parent is about to get yelled at by 10+ family members for hiding the severity of his condition.

[mariacallous]

(JTA) — As we mark the grim second anniversary of the Ukraine conflict this Shabbat, I’m reminded of a haunting melody I heard in the city of Poltava last month.

I was standing before Sonia Bunina, a plucky 17-year-old, when she opened her mouth to sing when an air raid siren rang out.

I flinched. Not Sonia — she didn’t miss a beat.

“Kol haolam kulo gesher t’zar meod, veha’ikar lo lifached k’lal,” she belted out before seeking shelter. “The whole world is a very narrow bridge, and the most important thing is to have no fear at all.”

Sonia, like so many Jews I know in Ukraine, is many things — determined, grieving, focused — but she’s certainly not cowering.

As she sang those words by Rebbe Nachman of Breslov — the Ukrainian Jewish sage whose followers continue to come by the tens of thousands to his grave in Uman annually — she embodied the prayer’s indomitable spirit.

Sonia and I met outside Poltava’s Hesed, part of the network of Jewish humanitarian hubs founded by my organization — the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, or JDC — more than three decades ago. Today they’re a lifeline to tens of thousands of Jews facing loss and strife. Since she was a toddler, Sonia has been attending activities at Hesed — her mother coordinates cultural programs for the elderly, and she connects teen volunteers like herself with isolated seniors, a critical source of comfort these last two years.

These days, traveling to Ukraine feels like a pilgrimage — there’s a pull in my soul to visit family near Lviv, to bear witness to Ukrainian Jewish resilience, and to be inspired by the clarity of purpose that is so palpable there. Since my first trip in 2011, I’ve been eight times. Last year, I wrote about how a year of crisis had transformed the ordinary into the sacred in Ukraine. Now, visiting feels even more essential with the worsening humanitarian situation.

Ukrainian Jews aren’t blasé about these challenges — far from it. Just take the delicate ballet of emotions on their faces when checking their phones during an air alert — contacting loved ones, scrolling through photos of devastation, and analyzing Telegram chats speculating on a given rocket’s make and trajectory.

But life goes on — there’s work to do — and though they’ve lost so much, they refuse to give any more away.

Showing up for each other, whatever it takes, is now baked into their very essence as Jews, and in Ukraine, there are tens of thousands to serve — hungry old women and displaced young families, disabled Holocaust survivors and stunned middle-aged professionals, shocked to now need help when they were once donors and volunteers.

They act fearlessly to ensure their communities make it through this crisis, body and soul intact. Can we expect anything less than boundless creativity from the people who birthed Sholem Aleichem and the Baal Shem Tov?

“These bombings, all these things that are killing people, destroying houses, leaving children homeless … it’s very scary,” Galina Limarenko, an 82-year-old retired nurse, told me in her small bedroom in Berezivka, taking note of the warm blanket, firewood, and other winter supplies my colleagues provided. “Thank God for the Jewish community, which never gives up and always shares even their very last piece of bread.”

I saw that irrepressible spirit again at our Beit Dan JCC in battered Kharkiv — a shapeshifting wellspring of strength just a few dozen kilometers from the eastern border. Shortly after Feb. 24, 2022, the center became a staging ground for truckloads of emergency aid — part of the 800 tons of humanitarian assistance we’ve delivered so far.

A few blocks from missile strikes, it now hosts children’s camps and soulful Shabbat services and operates a “kids hub,” offering academic enrichment to children who haven’t had in-person school for years — robbed of normal childhood by the pandemic and now the ongoing crisis.

And amidst blizzards and blackouts, Beit Dan has also become a “warm hub,” a safe place for beleaguered Jewish Kharkivites to charge their devices and obtain a hot drink and warm meal.

“If you share in our pain, and provide support where it’s needed, I’m forever grateful,” said Nika Simonova, Beit Dan’s program director. “The ability to remain human is the main thing. Done right, I believe that can save the world.”

That’s why we at JDC, aided by a coalition of partners including the Jewish Federations, Claims Conference, and International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, deployed a historic response to this conflict and remain committed to the Jewish future here.

We’re focused on ongoing humanitarian support for more than 41,000 Ukrainian Jews, expanding trauma relief, closing children’s educational gaps, and getting unemployed Jewish community members, among millions of Ukrainians plunged into poverty, back to work.

There is no doubt that the Jewish world is now responding to crises on multiple fronts, including this one, but we have been here so many times before. We must draw strength from our history and from the sure knowledge that this is what we’re built for. Our compassion and commitment, when leveraged with that timeless sense of mutual Jewish responsibility, means we can tackle the challenges we face — and come out on the other side even stronger.

As I walked through Lviv on my last day in Ukraine, I asked my cousin Anna Saprun, a 25-year-old business analyst, how this period has changed her.

“I hate what’s brought me here, but I love who I’ve become,” she said with a fierce and feisty smile. “Nothing scares me anymore. I feel powerful.”

Two years after the conflict began, Ukraine’s Jews are inspired anew each day, resolute in the sure knowledge that they know exactly who they’re working for — each other.

[thewarmestplacetohide]

Dread by the Decade: 1920s Master List

👻 My Kofi ❤️

Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari (1920 | Germany): A somnambulist at a carnival foretells death. ★★★★½

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920 | USA): A doctor uses an experiment to transform into his dark side. ★★★½

Körkarlen (1921 | Sweden): Death forces a man to revisit his past. ★★★½

Häxan (1922 | Sweden): A documentary about witchcraft and Catholic persecution. ★★★½

The Headless Horseman (1922 | USA): A schoolteacher encounters the Headless Horseman. ★½

Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922 | Germany): A solicitor helps a mysterious count move to Germany. ★★★★★

Orlacs Hände (1924 | Germany): A pianist has his hands replaced with those of a murderer. ★★★★½

The Monster (1925 | USA): A surgeon abducts people for his experiments. ★

The Phantom of the Opera (1925 | USA): A mysterious figure stalks an opera house singer. ★★★★½

Faust – Eine deutsche Volkssage (1926 | Germany): Mephisto tries to corrupt a good man’s soul. ★★★★

Der Student von Prag (1926 | Germany): A student trades his reflection for gold. ★★★

The Cat and the Canary (1927 | USA): The family of a millionaire gathers for the reading of his will. ★★★★

La chute de la maison Usher (1928 | France): A man grows obsessed with painting his ailing wife. ★★★★

The Man Who Laughs (1928 | USA): A man disfigured to have a permanent smile learns he is of noble birth. ★★★★

The Skeleton Dance (1929 | USA): Skeletons rise from the grave to dance. ★★★★