#force of habit i guess xD

[daughterofhecata]

Have the bonus interview!

[loupy-mongoose]

I wish my art motivation and my "want-to-move-the-story-along" motivation would get along, lol.

There's so much I rather would've drawn for this, but my brain is still in the Hisui rot. So, I'll have to make due.

Speech guide:

Randy's speech Jamie's speech (Pokespeak in parentheses) ~~Telepathy is in... these things... Whatever they're called. XD~~

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The group spread out among the foliage, keeping their eyes keen and calling out Midas' name.

As they searched, Akoya sent her husband a private vent.

~~Rrrrrrrrrgggghhh! ~~ ~~Why'd she have to come with us?!~~ ~~We'll find him fine on our own, then get right back to her. She doesn't need to babysit us! What threat do we pose anyway??~~

Randy struggled to suppress a sigh. ~~I know, Hon. But we really shouldn't do anything to upset her. We're on her turf right now, and she seems to be a high authority on it.~~

~~Huh. Well I'll be happy to be done with this and back home safely in Paldea.~~

~~I know. Believe me, I know. But let's just focus on one thing at a time, okay? Right now we need to make our way to Midas without her figuring out we can feel him.~~

Randy felt a stab of regret from her direction, and glance at her to see her giving him a remorseful look.

~~...I'm sorry.~~

Randy struggled to hide shock from Jamie.

~~For what?~~

~~For being difficult...~~ ~~Thank you for being patient with me, and... all this...~~

Seeing that Jamie was searching facing away from them, he met his wife's eyes and gave her a warm smile.

~~Of course, Akoya!~~ ~~I look forward to having Midas back and getting a chance to really talk in private.~~

Akoya sighed lightly.

~~Me too...~~

Midaaaas!

The pink-and-blue Mew perked up his ears, his tear-stained eyes opening wide.

(Mamah?)

His companion, a fluffy pink and russet Mew, also looked toward the calling voice. A purr was rattling from her in an attempt to calm the poor child she'd come across and curled around reassuringly.

Suddenly the young Mew bolted, startling his companion into silence.

(MAMAH!)

Midas slammed into his mother's chest. His voice came out as a whimper.

(Mamah...)

After a brief shock, Akoya smiled and hugged the little Mew close under her chin, and her eyes welled with tears. Midas... Oh thank Arceus...

Midas' fluffy companion flew up and nuzzled Jamie's head. Before Randy could comment on her, the girl gave her a startled look, but quickly recomposed herself.

(Hey, Jamie! Good to see you!)

It's good to see you too! But... a little surprising. Randy caught the quickest dart of her eyes in their direction. Clearly she was implying something, but what that was, he had no idea.

The stranger Mew smiled at the three newcomers. There was an... odd gleam in her eyes, but she turned back to Jamie, not giving any chance to ponder it.

Randy and Akoya exchanged glances. There was no avoiding it this time. She'd caught them all red-handed.

The man sighed. Yes, we all understand it.

Akoya's face turned serious, although she couldn't hide the shock she'd received. How did you know?

Educated guess. You reacted when Clover mentioned the bag. The red-haired girl met Akoya's eyes, but she appeared neutral, rather than hostile. Randy noticed that that subtle curiosity had returned.

Beside him, he saw his wife shudder. ...I don't like how sharp you are...

Much to Randy's surprise, Jamie gave a regretful smile. Force of habit. She took a snappy breath, as if to recenter herself, and straightened her postured. Shall we move on to the house?

The three Lindens looked at each other and nodded, and they set off again. But before they went far, Jamie turned to look at Akoya once more.

...So, did Midas call you "Mama"?

Feeling a wave of exasperation from Akoya, Randy answered for her, desperate to escape this weird dance of secrets they'd ended up in. We'll explain later. Can we just get somewhere where we can breathe?

The group continued on as the sun began to sink. Jamie's fluffy Mew buddy, Pari, floated leisurely around them, sometimes humming happily, sometimes picking up a chat with Jamie. Sometimes they would pass folks on the road, and Pari would wave cheerfully or let them pet her as she purred.

Randy realized then what Jamie had meant about this being a safe place for Midas to be lost at. Clearly the locals were used to having a Mew around--or two, if Jovie was as friendly and close to the people as Pari. Some Pokemon that roamed close by would come greet Jamie warmly, happy to see her back after her time away. And Randy caught glimpses of a deep, genuine smile on her face as she talked with them

He sighed, wishing things could be straight-forward, and hoped the two parties could soon find a comfortable middle ground.

He felt a gentle hand take his own, and looked over at his wife, unable to resist a soft smile as he met her eyes. Her other arm was tucked into her jacket to support Midas, who had refused to go back into the bag and was now hidden in there. Randy had taken possession of the bag.

He looked to his other side at Lav, who seemed as drained as he was. She'd been very quiet since they arrived, and he longed to pick her brain. But now wasn't the time. He felt a pang of guilt that she'd been so sidelined by all this.

He placed his hand on her far shoulder, looking for a cue that a hug would be okay. She turned up to him with tired eyes, giving a half-hearted smile and leaning into him. He tightened his grip around her.

As they walked, seeing their escort and new Mew companion at ease with the residents, his children safe in their arms and his wife and best friend by his side... he felt a deep peace settle in him.

Once they could get all the secrets and misunderstandings out of the way...

It wouldn't be so bad here.

~~~~~~

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[ninjababypowpow]

Um if the ask game is still available?

The Fox caught au please and thank you

WELL

Actually Fox Cauggt is my incredibly witty title for the sequel to Foxhunt.

I know, sometimes my own wit astounds me. Basically what is planned is...well, aftermath stuff. Debriefings, slooooow respectful courtship of Fox by Bacara while all Fox really wants is for Bacara to rail him up a wall. Thorn and Cody GET IT ON once more (this may or may not include Thorn walking up to the chatting batch, throwing Cody over his shoulder and carrying him off for ravishment) AND

A competition. Because while the GAR got an up close and personal view of Fox being super badass, and news about the Corries' treatment get out, most of them either still harbor some misguided ideas about the Corries' competence or find it hard to break old habits.

Planned are several different testzs of skill - agility, speed, endurance, hand to hand, marksmanship, and knowledge about the galaxy between different battalions and the Corries. The two winning battalions will then have a hand to hand spar between their Commanders, and the one who wins that wins the competition. You might guess this does not go as the GAR expected. Here's a little excerpt too XD

But the problem with things was that they kept happening, one after the other, and nothing short of hurtling himself down from the highest tower of the Jedi Temple would make that stop. Case in point: the fierce blue Jedi Healer - Master Che - had insisted on reviewing every single one of the Guard’s medical files and she kept finding things that were apparently horrifying and telling the Council about them, who then in turn told their Commanders because apparently having the Force meant you lost any sense of what was your business and what was not. And this then led to everyone knowing about it, because no one  gossiped like a vod with too much free time and now his Corries kept coming to him or the other three Commanders because they had crying apologetic GAR vod’e hanging off of them and wanting to reconnect. Fox would have told them to just kick them out, but he couldn’t make two steps currently without tripping over a batchmate himself, and they kept looking at him like Grizzer did when someone accidentally stumbled over her because she was lying obnoxiously in the way.

[azureashes]

The Queen of Curses

As promised, the long awaited sequel! This is a gift fic for the awesome, amazing, epic, kind, lovely, warm, and all around makes the world a better place @xxdoncrazyxx. Happy belated birthday! <3

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18+ Minors DNI

Sukuna//Reader - a sequel to a Goddess for the King of Curses

TW: size kink, triple penetration (kinda), drowning, death, impalement (is that a word?), corruption, mindbreak, lots of blood, lots of cum, sexual slavery, violent death, dubcon I guess, (although reader is pretty into it... psycho XD), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, also yandere

„Serve?“

Your voice barely reached your ears. It came out distant, as if someone else had spoken.

“Mm,” Sukuna dismissed with a casual wave of his hand, leaning back on someone else’s throne, one leg crossed over the other, crown and scepter tossed carelessly at his feet. Power was his crown. He had no use for the trinkets of weaker men.

 “They’ve served me well enough,” he frowned, displeased by your hesitation. “Now it’s your turn to serve them.”

You knew your voice would falter if you spoke, so you said nothing. Weakness did not arouse Sukuna’s pity – if he had such a thing – it merely provoked his sadism.

“Don’t tell me there’s a problem… goddess,” the last word was spoken on a sneer as he lifted his chin, the black markings on his face twisting along with his twisted expression.

You swallowed thickly and glanced up at where the cursed spirit sat, perched on the seat of power that only yesterday belonged to a man who had ruled at least a hundred miles in every direction. Today, his skull served as Sukuna’s soup bowl.

Two of Sukuna’s arms relaxed on the elaborately fashioned golden armrests, a third propped up his chin, while the fourth was held out towards you, a single finger beckoning you closer. You had consigned yourself to being his toy, and even after all these months of travelling with him, he had not yet grown tired of your old moniker.

Did he do it on purpose? To remind you that your worth wasn’t nearly as elevated as you had once imagined it to be? Or did he simply relish the knowledge that he had brought a goddess – even a fake one – to her knees? You bit your lip, your mind racing to piece together a suitable reply. The only matter was, in the year since Sukuna had knocked your self-worth from that pedestal, you’d been scrambling along on the floor, trying to piece it back together and figure out where it really belonged.

You were a woman, not a goddess, he had said. And the devil of it was, you only felt like a woman when his crimson eyes were burning into yours as he forced himself onto you. It wasn’t always pleasant, but you savored it all the same. Every scar he left on you was like a badge of honor. Proof of your lived experiences.

But to share you with his lackeys? You didn’t care who or how high-ranking they were. You didn’t care if they were powerful enough for Sukuna to feel they deserved you as a reward, you didn’t want to share your body with anyone but him. Being his vessel was the only worth you had left.

“I simply did not realize,” you began slowly, lifting your chin to return his gaze through half- lidded eyes as you swept towards him in response to his beckoning, your skirts swirling around you as you did so. “That my Lord was in the habit of sharing his possessions with others.”

You marched up the two steps towards the usurped throne solemnly, your eyes never leaving his, until you came to stand in front of him with all the poise of your upbringing. Sukuna lifted a hand towards your face with a deceptive gentleness, his sharp, black fingernails scraping past your cheek as his fingers raked through your loose hair.

“My possessions?” he purred, as if pleased you had come to think of yourself as such. His hand closed into a cruel fist as he jerked you forward by your hair, sending you face first into his lap. You supported yourself by bracing yourself on his knees, but his unforgiving grip did not allow you to rise.

“I do with my possessions what I will,” Sukuna reminded you, his voice serpentine and cold in your ear. “Or else, I break them and throw them away.”

The burning pain in your scalp was not even the beginning of what you knew he could do to you, and you cursed the warmth coursing through your treacherous body, a body that had come to learn that pleasure and pain were devilishly intertwined.

“Then forgive me,” you whispered, turning your face towards him with difficulty, “That I would rather be broken than be made to submit to someone other than you.”

He could be angered or pleased by your defiance, there was no way of knowing, and frankly, you no longer had the sense of self-preservation to hope for either.

The moment held, the air between you taut like a hunter’s bowstring as he frowned at you. You wondered what he was looking for as he searched the depths of your eyes. He would find nothing there but sincerity.

Something shifted in his gaze, and his frown deepened. You could not say whether he was puzzled or surprised, but when his brows furrowed, you were acutely aware that the scales had tipped against you.

“Your insolence reminds me, we need to break in the dungeons, don’t we?” A cruel laugh fell from his grinning lips. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I bet you’ll feel right at home.”

He dragged you down the three steps to the hall and then along further passageways. Some of his minions glanced at you in surprise, but they knew better than to look for too long. He dragged you down roughly hewn steps that led into darkness, and you stumbled along behind him, struggled to find your footing on the irregular stairs. You were greeted with a darkness so thick it was almost palpable against your face.

Apart from the moans of prisoners deeper within the underground prison, the flickering of the torchlight in Sukuna’s hand was the only sound that met your ears.

You started as a heavy, barred iron door swung open with a deafening creak like a cat’s yowling and with a flick of his wrist, Sukuna sent you tumbling headfirst into a prison cell, your face striking the uneven slabs of stone roughly. The iron bars slammed shut behind you with a deafening clatter, rattling the walls with their weight and as you turned to Sukuna, you could see that his maniacal sneer had returned.

Whatever had been puzzling him, throwing you into the dungeons seemed to have taken his mind from it. “Rot here, then, if you’re so insistent. If you won’t feed my men, you might as well feed the rats.” His eyes sparked maliciously, “Or are you too good for them, too?”

You gingerly wiped at the blood on your forehead but steeled yourself and turned to offer the demon a curtsy.

“Thank you, my Lord,” you glanced up at him, wondering what was going on behind the bloodlust in his eyes, behind the ever-present hunger for violence. “I will do my best to enjoy my stay here.”

“At least cry, won’t you?” Sukuna frowned, the pleasure vanishing from his face. He gave you a disappointed look then turned away from you with a yawn, suddenly bored, “Die here then for all I care.” And with that, he ascended the steps and was gone, the thick oak door to the dungeons falling shut behind him and robbing you of what little light there had been.

There was no point crying, you knew. Sukuna could abide your tears, your screams, and your begging. What he could not stand, was boredom. And so, that was what you would offer him in the face of whatever he sought to torment you with. If he wanted a reaction out of you – if he wanted you to alleviate his boredom – he would only achieve that by giving you something you wanted in return.

At least, you hoped that that was how it would work.

--------------------------------------------------

Several weeks passed before Sukuna seemed to remember you. And when you were brought out of the dungeon, hungry and dirty, your hair a ragged mess and your clothes disheveled and torn, you blinked and shielded your eyes from the torchlight – your senses overcome. You were given little time to adjust, however, and hastily ushered down one hallway after another. The further you walked from the prisons underground, the more extravagant these walkways became. The more intricate the sconces, the more elaborate the rugs beneath your feet.

The curses you had grown somewhat close to over the year of travelling together cast sympathetic looks as they led you to what you could only assume was a main hall of sorts. You ran your fingers through your tangled locks and tried to rub the grime from your cheeks. If they had taken you out of the damp dungeon, it could only mean you would now be presented to Sukuna once more. You could only hope he would not attempt to give you away again.

As the black-lacquered, double doors were opened to allow you entry, the grandeur of the opulent room met your eyes, a stark contrast to the stone and iron you had become reacquainted with over the last few weeks. Thick, maroon-velvet brocade hangings were draped from tall windows that ran from floor-to-ceiling, their tassels were woven from gold thread, just like the intricate gold filigree detailing spread across the elaborate curtains themselves. The floors were of marble tiling, interlaid in a mosaic pattern. Tapestries lined the walls, carrying the history of the country Sukuna had conquered, meaningless images now.

All this splendor was lost on the King of Curses, who would have been every bit as imposing and awe-inspiring if he were in a dilapidated hut. As it was, he lounged against an armchair made of the same velvet as the curtains, as women crowded around him in varying states of undress. A buxom blonde with glittering dark eyes stood behind him, her hands sliding down the defined muscles of his chest, across those black markings you often traced with your eyes, and on bolder nights, gingerly, with the tips of your fingers.

Beside her stood a brunette, with eyes of emerald, hanging from his neck, her tongue tracing the prominent veins that ran along the thick column. Two women sat on the floor at either side of him, one resting her head against his knee, the other with an arm draped over his thigh, pressing her heavy breasts up against his calf. Each of them had auburn hair, like polished copper and freckled, sun-kissed skin. Twins. Yet another beauty stood at his shoulder, with skin dark as sin that glowed like burnished bronze in the light of the sun. Long lashes curtained her dark eyes, veiled with mystery and allure. Her thick, coiled hair framed her head like a halo – an image divine.  

But the woman you could not tear your eyes from, was the one perched on his lap. Her silks had fallen to her waist, revealing pert, full breasts and skin like the purest cream. She turned to look at you as you entered, flushed cheeks, sky-blue eyes, hair like liquid ink – in short, she was a vision of beauty like no other. She smiled at you, a pitying, taunting smirk and yet, all your eyes saw were her swollen, well-kissed lips.

You dragged your eyes away from her, a haze of red seemed to cover your vision and you knew you could not allow yourself to be baited into an emotional response. Various other women were spread throughout the room, all equally beautiful. Some lie on their backs, panting with exhaustion, others leaned against the furniture, apparently collecting themselves, while others still were completely motionless – likely unconscious. You did not let yourself consider the alternative state they might be in.

Clearly, Sukuna had made recent use of them. You were aware that he had taken to collecting women after you, although generally you kept to your own chambers and were spared having to interact with them. He took noblewomen of his pleasing, generally the daughters or young wives of the deceased lord or king. If she survived the first night, she was rewarded with the honor of joining his harem – where she would be allowed to repeat the experience until either her body or psyche wore out. Some did not last the night, others survived but lost their minds – which bored Sukuna - and a select few took to their new lives with vigor, like the inky-haired harlot currently warming the cursed spirit’s lap.

Steeling yourself, you straightened your spine and returned your gaze firmly to Sukuna, refusing to allow any feelings of inferiority to creep into your mind. You were his first conquest. And though he might have a collection of queens and princesses, you were the only goddess he had yet to claim, rags or no.

“You called, my Lord?” your voice betrayed no hint of emotion – as level as your gaze.

Sukuna grinned at your non-response, revealing sharp canines and that same glee in his eyes that could always be found when he had thought of a new way to hurt you.

“Well, well, well… look what the cat dragged in.” His voice had no use being that sultry, it had no business sending that familiar heat pooling in your stomach after all he had done to you. His deep baritone seemed to penetrate your very skin.  

The tangles in your hair, the stains on your face and clothes, you were as out of place as a swine in an ablution chamber and yet – you refused to be beaten. You were his first, you had to be special somehow. After all, for who else would Sukuna put on such a show?

Sukuna wrinkled his nose as he waved a hand in front of his nose, as if there were an unpleasant stench drifting over from you. “Looks like you’re still alive - even if you don’t smell like it.” His sadistic smirk was still apparent at the edges of his mouth. The women broke into gleeful titters, joining in on his mirth at your appearance.

All he wanted from you was a response. For you to burst into tears. To beg his mercy. Even anger would do, you supposed. And yet, you couldn’t. You wanted something from him as well. And perhaps it was suicidal arrogance that prevented you from giving into him as he wished, but you were willing to take that risk, gambling everything on the hope that he would give to you a piece of himself that he gave to no one else.

You wanted to be something to him. Anything.

“I could not afford to delay, when summoned by my Lord,” you responded smoothly, showing no sign of the discomfort you felt.

“Is that so?” Sukuna purred, resting his temple against the knuckles of his left hand.

“And yet, what makes you better than these morsels?” he mused, running his clawed fingers through the silky, black locks of the woman on his lap. “That you dare to defy me?” Clearly, he still recalled where your last conversation had left off.

You doubted the women present were aware of how literally Sukuna used the term “morsels”. It was a game to him, and you needed to play your pieces carefully, all while figuring out the rules – as viable to change as they were at his passing whim.

“I would not dare, my Lord,” you murmured quietly.

“Then serve my men, brat.” His smirk disappeared and, in its place, an inquisitive light sparked in his half-lidded eyes. Why shouldn’t you be made to serve others, he seemed to ask. Why would you be reserved for him alone?

You wondered if this was still about rewarding his underlings, or simply about drawing a line between the two of you – once more showing you your place.

You weighed your words carefully, “I am ever in service to my Lord, and deem myself unfit to divide my attentions as you propose.”

Before Sukuna could respond, a sharp laugh, malicious and high rang through the room. “You dare to defy our beloved lord?” The woman in his lap gave you a once-over her expression making no attempt to hide what she thought of you. “You poor thing. Like a drowned rat making demands.” She had a melodious, lilting voice but its airy quality was dampened by the mean-spirited manner in which she spoke. She had to know who you were, and as such, fully intended to take you down as a final stepping-stone to becoming Sukuna’s favorite.

As if Sukuna had such things.

“Look at you! You reek of filth and whatever droppings have piled up in the dungeons. Do you really think you deserve a place in Lord Sukuna’s harem?”

She sidled from Sukuna’s lap, so focused on you she failed to see the frown forming on his face.

She flipped her lovely hair over her shoulder, “Serving our master is an honor bestowed upon our royal bloodlines.” She gestured vaguely towards the women in the room. “How dare you put on such airs when you’re clearly nothing but a filthy whore? You’d do well to be grateful to be in his mere presence, and spread your legs for whoever he commands, –“

Her speech was cut abruptly short when Sukuna’s large hand closed around her head, his fingers almost meeting at her face. His displeasure emanated from him in dark waves of cursed energy visible to the naked eye.

“Who gave you permission to speak?” his voice was dangerously low, soft almost, and yet it reverberated throughout the room – a clear threat.

It happened almost too fast to follow, the muscles banding along his forearm flexed, half a whimper escaped her lips as her eyes sought yours in a panicked plea for mercy through the gaps in his fingers, and then his hand closed into a fist and blood spurted violently in all directions. You flinched as the spray of blood spattered across your face and clothing. The women jumped to their feet, screaming.

“Know your place, fool.” Sukuna growled, as he released his hold on the lovely woman, and she crumpled to the ground – her silky hair all that remained of her once-lovely countenance. As the woman fell away from between you, Sukuna’s scarlet eyes, still burning with displeasure beneath furrowed brows, connected with yours.

You held his gaze as chaos erupted all around you. There was intention in his gaze, that he knew what he had done, and could not take it back. He had ceded ground to you. He had flinched first. For all he played the part that you were meaningless to him, he had killed a member of his harem for your sake, and that truth weighed heavy, undeniable between you.

Even as the remaining ladies tore for the exits, screaming and sobbing, you raised a hand and spoke simply and clearly, in a compelling manner you could not unlearn after all your years at the temple. “Ladies.”

A spellbound silence fell over them, as they took in your standoff with Sukuna, the way your eyes were fixed unwavering on one another.

“You are as yet in the presence of our Lord,” you reminded them. They seemed to come to their senses, even as you could hear a few of them sniffling behind you.

Sukuna lifted his chin, apparently at ease with you taking control of his harem. He leaned back into his chair, his eyes contemplative.

“Remove her from our Lord’s presence,” you admonished them, giving them a purpose to overcome their shock. As if startled awake, they shuffled towards the young woman, and after at first being indecisive as to how to proceed, one group took hold of her hands as the other grabbed her ankles and she was carried from the chamber, one way or another. The remaining women hovered uncomfortably.

“Get out,” Sukuna dismissed with a wave of his fingers, his penetrant gaze still fixed wholly on you.

They were all too willing to leave and had departed within seconds, leaving none but the two of you in the expansive hall.

Sukuna regarded you warily for a moment, taking you in from head to toe before beckoning you closer with a single finger. “Come.”

You approached, your chest constricting with feeling. You wanted so badly to mean something to him, for him to give you a new identity after having stripped away your old one. You did not so much as flinch as you stepped through the puddle of blood and drew closer to the fearsome giant of a man seated before you. You slowed just before him, but Sukuna took a crushing hold of your hip and drew you closer still, until you stood between his legs and looked up at him, his nose a breath from yours.

Up close, you looked right into his sanguine irises, glowing with bloodlust, and another kind of hunger still, a hunger you could not help but feel was reserved for you.

“She was right, you know,” Sukuna muttered, his breath ghosting over your lips. “You really are a filthy whore.”

“So long as I am yours,” you whispered back earnestly, your gaze wandering from his probing eyes to his full lips, “I would gladly be less than that still.”

He seemed to consider that, discontent with the direction the conversation was taking. It was just as you had thought earlier, he did not take favorites. But if you were not a favorite, and also not a dispensable member of his harem… then what were you? “You do not bore me,” Sukuna frowned, his hand closing around the nape of your neck, his fingers curling into your tangled hair. “That is why I keep you, nothing more.”

In a moment of weakness, you responded to his callousness with bleeding sincerity. “I need you,” you confessed, your heart rioting in your chest at the thought of being so vulnerable in the face of his unfailing cruelty. “I need you to tell me who I am. What I am. I need to be yours to be anything at all.”

Sukuna seemed to be taken aback at your unprompted confession. He scowled, baring his canines, “You are nothing to me, I’d as soon crush you as fuck you.”

It was truth, plain and simple, and more of a response than you had expected him to entertain. You sighed, resigned, and leaned into him, your hands sliding over his powerful shoulders, your fingers curling into his hair. You knew you could not win. But at least you were in his arms, that had to count for something. “Your wish is mine as well, Sukuna-sama.”

When your lips touched his, he seemed unable or unwilling to play this game any longer. He closed his fingers in a cruel grip on your hair – a hold he seemed to favor -, controlling your movements. He leaned into the kiss, devouring you as promised, consuming and dominating you until you felt your knees go soft as butter – unable to support you. Sukuna’s grip on your hair and hip seemed to be all that was holding you aloft. As if to make good on his threat, you felt his sharp canines bury themselves into your lip, felt blood gush forth and drip down your chin, even as Sukuna sucked at the bleeding gash, drinking down your blood hungrily. The stabbing pain seared through you, accompanying a rush of endorphins to your mind – a mind that could make no sense at all of the jumbled mess of emotions spiraling through you.

Sukuna was the one who had taught you everything you knew about pleasure, and he had taught you that pleasure and pain went hand in hand. You were certain he could push you over the edge by inflicting pain alone. And so, even as Sukuna wounded you and drank of your blood, you could not help but moan into his mouth, light-headed and delirious with need.

You did not see how Sukuna’s eyes slid open, how he regarded you with a questioning gaze. How he began to grasp the truth of your confession - that you needed him to claim you far more than you desired to live. You relished pain, and might even welcome death, in exchange for identity – an identity only he could bestow.

Why did you become more interesting the more he dealt with you? Whenever he felt bored, he only had to summon you to sink his teeth into you, literally and figuratively.

“What will I do with you?” he muttered, scarcely realizing he had spoken against your mouth until you whispered back, “I find myself wondering much the same. Every time you look at me,” you swallowed the blood that pooled in your mouth, “every time you touch me.”

Sukuna took you in from head to toe through half-lidded eyes, as if truly seeing you for the first time since you had stepped into the hall. The clawed fingernail on his thumb traced along your hipbone and he frowned. “There’s not much left of you.” There was no pity in his voice, only complaint.

You did not respond. He was certainly aware of the fare that was to be expected in the dungeons. You’d always come out a little worse for the wear, but this was the first time he had left you there for weeks, and you had grown thinner as a result. But that was only to be expected, surely, he knew that?

“Tch,” he scowled, “shouldn’t a goddess be more resilient?”

“I’m not a goddess,” you reminded him.

“You are whatever I say you are,” his eyes burned with challenge, “Don’t forget it.”

You could not look away, you could not speak, you could scarcely breathe. Something had changed. You did not know quite what it was, but the standoff seemed to have passed and, in its place, there seemed to be a sense of acceptance, an admittance of the fact that your identity was somehow intertwined with his own, against all odds.

You were recalled to the moment as Sukuna snapped his fingers and a cursed spirit, sickly green in hue and covered with boils, spirited out of thin air at your side.

“Prepare a bath,” Sukuna frowned.

The cursed spirit stumbled over himself as he folded the hands of his six arms in a show of obeisance, mumbling a hasty agreement before disappearing altogether.

You waited awkwardly as Sukuna beheld you, his clawed hands running along your form, feeling where flesh had given way to bone during your stay in the dungeons. Your lip bled still, though he paid no heed until it dripped onto the back of his hand. An irritated sound escaped the back of his throat, and he brushed a thumb over your lip, sending coils of dark energy into your torn lip, sealing the flesh closed once more. His cursed energy was like the kiss of ice and sent shivers down your spine, without fail, each time he used it on you. It was a wonder that a force so malevolent was capable of healing at all, and you could feel it pulsing within you, more faintly with each beat, until it dissipated inside you.

You could not help the choked sound that escaped your lips. You had missed him. His touch, his cruelty, the taste of his dark energy. He was far more intoxicating, far more potent than the noxious smoke you had seen the priests partake in on occasion. And far more dangerous.

“You’re weak,” Sukuna scowled, as if confronted for the first time with the reality of your human nature.

You felt heat rush to your face. Hopefully he had not heard the shameful sound you had made. It would not do for you to appear desperate.

“I am only mortal,” you admitted, hoping to distract from your misstep, “you have proven the weakness of our kind at great length these last few years.”

“You dare complain?”

“No, my lord. I simply state the obvious. My kind is not enduring.”

“Hmph.” He released you finally, and your skin almost immediately mourned the loss of his touch. “And yet, you have lived where other women have died.”

You could not quite wrap your mind around that admission. Had he attempted to torment other women the way he had with you? And had they died at his hands? You did not quite know what it would take to kill you. Before Sukuna, you had had no experience with illness, pain, or death. And now, it seemed a given that when Sukuna took you apart, he would put you back together again. When he split your flesh open, he would seal it once more. Why did the others die? Or rather, why did you survive?

Before you could put the matter to question, a pop and wisps of green smoke announced the return of the imp along with other cursed spirits that seemed female in nature.

They had spirited along a large tub of water and several glass bottles of varying tinctures and perfumes. At a nod from Sukuna, they tore your robe from your shoulders, revealing your grimy, naked form to the attendants present – and worse, to Sukuna’s watchful, crimson eyes. The spirits crowded around you, some with rough rags, others with coarsely bristled brushes, and others still taking the various bottles in hand to spill their contents on your head, your shoulders, on the rags they held. Without waiting for a signal, they began scrubbing at your body, purging you of the filth of the dungeons. Thin, spindly fingers massaged your scalp, verbena-scented suds spreading through your hair. The rags and brushes seemed to scrape the skin from your flesh and yet, you could not truly pay them heed, entranced as you were by the way Sukuna’s gaze followed their hands as they scrubbed at your back. His eyes taking in the trace of the suds they drew over your abdomen, the thorough washing between your breasts, soap suds trailing down the length of your legs, the rag washing between your thighs…

It was a different kind of humiliation, to be so intently observed by him, to be so naked in the middle of the hall for all present to see. And even without looking at him, you could feel his gaze on your skin, the way it prickled beneath his intent stare. Finally, they poured bucketfuls of warm water over you, washing away the suds. Sukuna seemed not to care that the scarlet rug running the length of the hall was soaked, or that water was pooling at your feet and flowing towards him. Did he ever care for consequences, when he wanted something?

He crossed over to you and traced your protruding hipbones with a long, black fingernail once more. His frown revealed – likely without his knowing – that he somewhat regretted putting you away for so long. He liked to sink his claws into you, to bury his fangs in you… He could hardly do that when you were almost nothing but skin and bone with no soft flesh to fill his hands with.

His eyes traced your form leaving a trail of burning desire on your skin as his gaze burned a path up your navel, over your dripping breasts, your exposed collarbones, your swollen lips, before at last meeting your eyes. The very world around you seemed to flicker like a mirage as you held his gaze and in the blink of an eye, you were no longer standing on sodden carpet, but in the baths attached to his very own chambers, where innumerable candles were set all along the perimeter of the room, on tables, counters, and windowsills. The flickering, dim light filled the chamber with equal parts light and shadow, that flickered on your faces in turn.

In the center of the room was a basin in the ground, lined by emerald tiles, each with a golden pattern swirling through the green. The basin itself was a bath of sorts, large enough for three at least. It was filled with steaming water that was pale mint in color – an herbal bath it would seem. Rose petals were scattered across the water’s surface, and the scent of earthy herbs as well as a faint note of citrus wafted over in the steam to greet you, almost beckoning you closer.

The sound of water sloshing caught your attention and you turned to see Sukuna lowering himself into the bath. He leaned against the slabs of stone behind him and rested an arm on either side of himself as he released a barely audible, content sigh. Your expression softened. He really was always at attention, braced for violence, muscles tensed in anticipation of battle. You could imagine how the steaming bath water must provide him some rare relief.

He ran a hand through his russet hair and your gaze caught on the droplets of water that seemed to trace down the prominent veins of his muscular forearm. At ease, as he was, his head tipped back, his unruly hair swept back by the residual water of his hand, you were dazed by his inhuman beauty. His features were undeniably those of nobility, a king in the truest sense, you could not help but ask yourself how it was possible for a man so cold and cruel to be so undeniably beautiful. Even the black markings on his face only served to accentuate his bold features.

His dark lashes lifted, and those carmine eyes seemed to pierce right through you, pinning you in place. Unable and unwilling to escape from his all-encompassing gaze, you merely stood before him, drinking him in. He did not beckon you closer, or say so much as a word, but the command in those eyes was clear. “Come.”

And so, you did.

Dipping your toes into the water, the warmth seemed to pull you in, melting you down to your very bones as you stepped fully into the bath. You were keenly aware of his eyes on you as you lowered yourself into the murky waters of the herbal bath, concealing your nakedness. Heat rushed through you that you could not fully attribute to the temperature of the water. You hoped he would not see that the tips of your ears had gone red - and that he would not recognize it for what it was.

You drew closer still, drawn in by an inexplicable magnetism as if his dark essence were a black hole sucking in your very soul. He never took his eyes off of you for a moment, and the effect was intoxicating as he waited, watching, like a predator tolerating his prey frolicking before him in a delusion of safety, not yet in a mood to disillusion it.

You had missed him. You always did. His power was your lifeline. His invincibility, your shield. In his shadow, you were safe from all but him. And you never wanted to be safe from him – as foolish as you recognized that sentiment to be. Water dripped from your fingers as you reached for him, gingerly tracing the inky markings on his face. You ran a delicate fingertip along the line of his jaw, traced his cheekbones with your thumbs, followed those symbols line for line until you could draw them with your eyes closed. When your fingers journeyed lower exploring those same markings on his chest, he tipped his head back, relishing in the sensation.

You remembered the blonde whose hands had brushed past these same markings and your stomach burned with a nauseating, possessive ire. You wanted to purge her touch from his skin, wanted to burn her very image from the scroll of existence until nothing remained but a scorch mark. You leaned in closer to him, replacing your fingers with your lips, and trailed mindless kisses along those symbols, and then, growing bolder still, traced them with your tongue. When a wordless murmur of appreciation spilled past Sukuna’s parted lips, you glowed with pride.

“On your knees, goddess.” Sukuna growled, overcome with desire. What little patience he had, decidedly spent.

You acquiesced, sinking to your knees, the water just above your elbow. He opened his eyes, taking you in, the goddess kneeling in the water before him, water dripping from your hair, disappearing between your breasts. The way your eyes were caught on his shaft, the head of it just peeking out from the water’s surface.

“Well?” he began, seeing your hesitation - that ever present mocking tone painfully apparent. “Should I call in someone else?”

Your eyes snapped towards him, irritated, and he grinned in the face of your upset. You lifted a hand to his member and wrapped your fingers around it - frowning because of course your fingers didn’t close around it - and pleasing him with your mouth, as he was clearly expecting you to, would be a herculean effort. You could see, even without looking at him, that challenging grin on his face and the malicious spark in his eyes.

You alleviated his boredom, he had said, but the thing was – you liked surprising him. You reveled in the expression he made when you defied expectations. When you jumped headfirst into whatever he expected you to balk at. And ever since he had broken you so thoroughly on that table months ago, you no longer feared pain – you feared only abandonment, being discarded as a pawn that had outlived its use by the only one that could seal every split and crack within you with nothing more than his dark aura. The one who could fill you so thoroughly with himself, with his cursed energy, that you thought you might forget having ever felt empty.

The lives of the world were forfeit, their villages were forfeit - all that mattered was staying by his side, drunk on his power, for as long as you were able.

You bowed your head beneath the water and held your breath as you licked up the underside of his shaft, slowing as you reached the bulbous head and broke through the water’s surface. You traced the tip of your tongue along its slit. Sukuna hissed and his head tipped back once more. His muscles tensed, and this time, it was your turn to grin. Using both hands, you cupped his shaft again, and closed your mouth around the head of his cock. Your jaw immediately ached at being stretched so wide but the grunted curse that echoed throughout the bath chamber spurred you on. Water dripped from your face, and you knew you would have to time your breathing precisely to survive this encounter.

Your hands ran along his length with your movements as your head bobbed up and down. Up – you inhaled through your nose, swirled your tongue around the head, twisted your hands, and breathed. Down – your ears filled with water, you exhaled, took him in as deep as you could, and squeezed the remaining length of his shaft between your hands. Again. Again. Again. The guttural sounds that fell unguarded from those proud lips hummed right through you like the most potent drug, driving you to continue. You were feeling quite skilled and proud of yourself, you could do this – you could have him helpless beneath your ministrations.

And then one of his hands gripped the back of your head.

Panic was the first thing that shot through you. Sukuna, in the throes of his lust, would not care if you could breathe. A second hand fell on your shoulder, and you opened your mouth to remind him that you were human, that you were breakable, that you could die – but not fast enough. One moment you saw him, his head still tipped back, two arms resting on either side of him as the other two held you firm, and the next – nothing but water as that impossible length thrust into your mouth, straight towards your throat. You gagged underwater and thrashed, trying to free yourself, if only for a moment, to breathe, to try again with warning, but Sukuna had no cares for your distress. He was concerned only with his own release and if he registered your existence at all, then only as a means to an end.

He attempted again and again, to penetrate the narrow canal of your throat, each thrust only worsening the sensation, your body rebelling against such abuse. Water splashed everywhere as you writhed, desperate for a breath of air, but by the third thrust your throat gave way with an awful popping sound, dulled by the pressure of the water against your ears. The awful penetration was intense, it hurt so terribly that your core tightened in false anticipation of the pleasure that usually followed on the heels of pain.

You struggled to regain some semblance of calm, knowing only a level head would help you hold out long enough to breathe again. But each time he thrust into your throat, your body convulsed in protest, and your lungs burned for air. He pushed your head down with more force as he approached his release, his hips bucking as he drove more forcefully into you, not noticing as your thrashing slowed, your strength ebbing.

You dimly felt his release, as if from beyond a veil. You heard a growl of pleasure, loud enough to shake the walls, loud even through the water. You felt the way his shaft twitched as copious amounts of thick, bitter fluid gushed down your throat. You registered distantly the way it continued pulsing against the walls of your throat even in the aftershocks of his pleasure. And then you felt nothing at all. Not even a sense of relief when his cock finally pulled free from your lips.

Sukuna exhaled, a breathy sound of relief, slow and drawn out – rough around the edges. He dragged a hand through his hair as the world came back into focus. The cool air of the chamber in contrast to the dizzying warmth of the bath, steam still rising, made him acutely aware of each droplet of water where it clung to his skin. He felt alive, powerful, every inch of him thrumming with an energy he only knew when he gave in to his baser urges with you.

You.

Sukuna cocked his head to the side as he took in the sight of you, your wet hair clinging to the skin of your back as you floated, face down, in the bath before him. He frowned. You were not weak. He knew that. Or else, how could you dare to tempt him, knowing you were not a fitting receptacle for his lust – knowing the most fleeting of touches was enough to cost you your feeble life?

You approached him readily, spread your legs for him willingly, and only rarely begged for your life in the face of certain death – uncertain if your climax or the reaper would reach you first.

“Tch.” The sound left his lips unwillingly. He wasn’t ready to let you go yet. You had been the first of his harem, and he was ever expanding it, hoping to find another like you. But there didn’t seem to be another temptress like you on the face of this wretched earth, one who craved him above all else. Above any mortal bonds, misguided virtues, or sense of identity or dignity. You clung to him like he was your salvation – and not your destruction. Your desperation amused him. Everything about you did, and he was not ready to go back to being bored again.

He buried his long fingers into your thick hair, black, sharp fingernails scraping against your scalp as he pulled you out of the water, towards himself. You were alive, albeit barely. And his clear, sanguine gaze roamed the length of you. He was ancient, and he had seen nearly everything there was to see in his centuries of existence. If he didn’t crave the sensation of blood on his skin with a maddening intensity as he did, the mortals might have considered him a god. As it was, he liked the insides of people better than their outsides.

You were a rare exception, he mused as he dragged a pointed, black talon upwards along your skin, past your hipbones, up your navel, along the curve of your swollen breasts, teasing along your collarbones, before drawing to a stop at the prominent veins running down the column of your lovely throat – all the more appealing to his eyes for its fragility. Like glass so thin it might crack with a breath. If your skin tensing beneath his touch was not proof enough, the pulse beneath his finger confirmed – you were alive, still.

Good.

He was far from done with you.

He flipped your positions with no regard to your unconscious state. Your upper body sprawled along the marble tiles, water dripping from you and pooling beneath you as he positioned himself between your legs. Two powerful arms braced on either side of your immobile form as one of his hands gripped your hips, lifting you to meet him as the fourth hand spread your legs for him.

You would have enjoyed this, he thought, if you were awake.

The head of his cock, alert and ready for a second round, prodded at your entrance. Sukuna’s ruby eyes were fixed on your expression, waiting for the moment you jerked back to life. Would it be with a scream of agony or ecstasy? The not knowing was as delicious as the anticipation. He knew he could bring you back from either.

His second cock sprang to life, rubbing against your slit and brushing against your clit as the first member made its way inside you with slow, lazy thrusts. He released your hip and placed a hand against your back, his spread fingers mirroring the bones of your ribcage. He could crush it beneath his hand as easily as he had the head of that shrew who had mouthed off against you. Ruining the moment that had been weeks in planning.

How he had wanted to drag you before him. To see the jealousy in your eyes as he adorned himself with meaningless whores. He had wanted to fuck them in front of you until you begged him to stop – or to take you instead – or to… what? He didn’t know, but he would have eaten up your response regardless. You were terrified of him, he knew, but instead of running from him, you ran towards him.

He ran his tongue along his teeth, hungry for you again. He was beginning to realize it was a hunger that could never be sated. A hunger that might be turned against him if anyone caught on. If you commanded anything more than his passing interest, would you be considered his weakness?

He remembered the feel of the blue harlot’s skull imploding beneath his fingers. Blood gushing to the floor, shards of her skull cutting at his hand, only for the scrapes to be healed immediately by his cursed energy. And between the dripping blood, your eyes meeting his evenly, boldly, unafraid of the sudden display of violence.

Were you his weakness?

The thought prompted something akin to anger within him. He had no weaknesses. With a violent thrust, he sheathed himself within you. Halfway inside you, the head of his cock barred by the end of your velvet core, Sukuna was met with a burning need for more. To prove to himself, to you, to anyone who would dare to surmise otherwise – that you were nothing.

The shaft of his second cock rubbed against your clit, as it slid up and down your belly, the head of his member nestling between your breasts – caged between them and the cool, wet marble beneath you. With each thrust, it slipped up and down between your mounds, heightening Sukuna’s pleasure. The first member pounded into you with abandon, sledgehammering into your body, your unconscious body slamming against the marble with each reckless thrust.

Your eyes flew open in shock as a violent cough consumed you, expelling the water from your lungs. The burning sensation between your legs and a fiery agony in your core confirmed, you were up to your throat in Sukuna’s cock. Drowning in him in an entirely different way. You tried to brace yourself against the marble and lift your body, but Sukuna’s callous hand against your back crushed you back down to the ground ruthlessly, the marble cracking beneath you – or was that just your ribs?

There was pleasure too, ungodly pleasure through the pain. The kind you relished. You groaned despite yourself. Sure, you had nearly died only moments ago. But that was moments ago - almost an eternity ago already. Now you were being crushed beneath him, beneath his gaze, beneath his ministrations.

You turned your head to the side, the only freedom of movement you were allowed and met his eyes. You were reminded of that day so long ago, when he had taken you in your own temple, against a table not quite so hard as the marble beneath you. The way he had met your eyes with a curious gaze then.

This was different.

There was a burning fury in his eyes. A demonic possessiveness. As if the devil had been taken by the devil. He seemed intent to burrow his way straight through you. To prove something to someone, likely himself. Did he want your body, your blood, or both?

How badly you wanted to give whatever it was he would ask of you.

Your lips fell apart and nothing but short, breathy gasps fled your mouth each time he rolled his hips and plowed into you, his grip on your back for purchase, as another held onto your leg still, opening you wide for him as he thrust deeper into you, turn for turn.

A feral growl burned from his chest as the messy, slapping noise of skin against skin echoed through the chamber, water splashing over both of you.

There was an end to your cavern, but Sukuna did not seem to care. His pleasure took precedence over your anatomy, he pounded against your cervix, not caring when your body shook violently with pain, except to pin you more firmly in place.

How your brain was capable of processing such torturous pain at the same time as the heights of pleasure, you did not know. Your mind was a foggy place filled with nothing but the steam of the chamber, the water growing even hotter with the energy rolling off of him in waves and the scent of him, the feel of him, all around you. This would be a good way to go, a dark voice whispered within you.

That second cock pulsing between your breasts, rubbing against your clit again and again in time with the violation of his thick, thick shaft within you was an unholy combination that teased you higher and higher, until you cared not for the pain, for the trembling of your rebellious body. It didn’t understand - the pain was worth it, it was delicious.

The syllables of his name burst from your lips in small, delicious, agonized gasps, as the heat coiling within you tightened further and further into a madness only his brutality could release you from.

You fell from the precipice, shattering around his monstrous cock, at the very same moment that he penetrated your cervix.

Whether it was a scream of climax or of agony, you could not say. It started as one and devolved very quickly into another. But Sukuna was far from satisfied.

Even before your climax had truly ended, the agony tore through you. Tears pooled and streamed from your cheeks in mere moments. The pain was too much. You were too weak. You whimpered miserably. Hot tears mingling with the cool droplets of water that had dripped to the marble.

“Now, now…” Sukuna purred, his mask of mockery not firmly in place through his brutal anger, “don’t give up so soon.”

You sucked in a pained breath as Sukuna slid out of your womb only to bite down on your tongue, muffling a pained scream as he slammed back into that inviolable part of you.

He lifted your face from the marble, drool and tears falling from your face, contorted in pain. “Didn’t you say you were my whore?” he tutted. “What use is a whore if I can’t even fuck you properly?”

There was rage you could not place. Why was he so angry? Had he been holding back all this time? Was this what Sukuna was like when he gave in to his urges? Was this what he needed of you?

“What was it you wanted again?” he growled into your ear. “Identity?” The playful mask was more firmly in place now, concealing the fury that still thrummed beneath the surface.

“Is it worth this?” You felt his tip brush the opposite wall of your womb and bit down on a whimpering sob.

“Aw,” Sukuna mocked, slowing. “Do you want me to stop?”

You knew, without knowing how, that he would kill you if you agreed. This was some sort of twisted ultimate test. A game he was playing with himself, to find out what you were worth.

You’d be damned if you were going to lose.

You were losing sensation in your legs, your ribcage burned – there was definitely something broken – and your throat burned still from his earlier abuse, but you had a fire of your own within you that refused to cool. A blaze that sometimes wanted to swallow the world and spit out the ashes. You’d been raised a goddess, abandoned as an appeasement, and twisted into a slave and a whore. No pain of the body could compare. 

There was nothing you couldn’t take.

“Why?” you seethed, your eyes meeting his with the combined, burning resolve of the Furies of legend, a growl of your own building in your throat, “getting tired?”

He did pause, then, his wrath giving way – however briefly – to surprise. He stilled, his lips curved into a smirk, and then his shoulders shook as he tipped his head back with laughter. It echoed against the walls and fell, cruelly metallic, back to your ears.

“That’s the spirit!” he barked, finally, and using his grip on your hair as an anchor pummeled into you. With even less regard for your well-being, he clearly had every intent of impaling you on his cock – in the literal sense of the word.

A slit on his abdomen teased open, a smirk playing against your posterior, that long, thick tongue you had become very familiar with teasing between the mounds of your backside, seeking out the puckered entrance beyond. One of Sukuna’s hands drew back to clap against the smooth skin and the resounding sting seemed to spread upwards and through you. But it was so tame in comparison to the pain of your insides being rearranged, that it was almost a sensation of relief.

His tongue prodded at your anus and penetrated the tight ring of muscle with something like a laugh as the wet, thick muscle, slid along the tight walls within you, sliding deeper than should have been possible, in and out, further and further along with each poking thrust, wriggling deeper inside of you, tasting every inch of you.

You were completely out of your mind. With the one cock pleasuring itself between your breasts, the tongue inside of your intestines, and the second cock stretching the walls of your womb to their outer limits – it was a wonder you were still conscious at all.

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He was everything, he was everywhere, there was nothing and no one but him. He could have you, he could consume you, he could kill you and keep your corpse to fuck as he pleased. There was nothing he could ask of you that you would not give. They had been lying to you all along, you knew, the Great Evil was your purpose, not to vanquish, but to be consumed completely by it. No heaven could compare, the goddess Terraria be damned. She would have gotten on all fours for him, too, if she could – begging for the favor of his cock.

But she couldn’t, because he had chosen you and you alone.

And then he tore through the walls of your womb.

There was a scream so loud it hurt your ears. You wanted to ask for it to stop but couldn’t work your mouth to form the words – and then you realized you were the one screaming. The anguish was like nothing, the delirium of the pain was addling your brain. You wondered if you were dying.

Sukuna did not stop.

Your scalp burned from him dragging you up by the hair without pause. Your leg ached as he arched it up and used it to anchor himself as he pumped deeper and deeper into you. How you had the presence of mind to register either of those sensations was a wonder to you.

Your scream was never-ending, the need for breath was secondary. Sukuna laughed, loving the sound of your agony. He bent low to kiss the throat that bled such a beautiful, awful sound and then he bit into your flesh, eyes gleaming at the scarlet ambrosia that spilled from your lovely veins.

He tore into you, pain upon pain. Through your stomach, up your esophagus – and now you could truly feel him in your throat.

And then he came with a shudder, a groan of release reached your ears, soft and intimate and lovely.  You felt his release everywhere – or rather you no longer knew where one part of you ended and another began. So attuned to his sensations, his desires, his lust as you were, you too, climaxed through the pain, tremors running through your body as he let you drop back onto the cold tiles. You were in heaven and hell at the same time. It was so like Sukuna to take you there.

You opened your eyes blearily and recognized that the marble had indeed cracked. Just like your ribs. A cough tore through you, pain intensified exponentially by your ravaged insides and when you spit up the blockage, your eyes focused enough to recognize – blood and cum.

When he finally pulled out of you, the one thing stemming your bleeding was torn mercilessly away and blood gushed forth from you with abandon. Blackness tinged the edges of your vision almost immediately at such sudden loss of blood, as your body registered how thoroughly it had been wrecked. Sukuna’s second member, still pulsing, pulled away from between your breasts and the tongue that had been nestled inside your intestines also slipped back out, disappearing inside Sukuna’s abdomen once more. He took hold of you, almost gently, by your shoulders, and turned the two of you back around until you were draped limply over his chest as he leaned back against the cracked marble. He curled your wet hair around his fingers thoughtfully, as the thumb of another hand stroked your shoulder almost comfortingly. You noted dimly that you had been right, this was a good way to go. His eyes fell to yours, meeting your gaze with an intensity you had not thought possible.

When his eyes roamed over you and stopped between your legs, you followed his gaze. It was so much more blood than you had realized. The minty green water was spoiled almost all the way through with coils of thick, red blood. Enough to dye almost the entire bath. There was nothing beautiful left of this bath chamber.

“Why not ask me to stop?” Sukuna murmured, so quietly you only heard it because of how close his lips were to your ear.

You swallowed thickly. You were tired. Tired, physically, of course, but also tired of the lies that had built up your entire life. Sukuna had been the only truth in your life – a brutal, cruel, ruthless truth. But a truth, nonetheless. Was it so strange that you would rather be a true whore than a false goddess? Maybe your sense of gratitude towards him was foolish and mistaken, but it was there. 

“I didn’t want you to.” You admitted, your voice almost lost with your fading consciousness.

Sukuna was silent a moment, stroking your hair away from your forehead as your eyes fluttered closed, listening to his heartbeat as your own faded away.

“Do you still want it?” he muttered, almost hesitating despite himself. That his hesitation was for your sake went completely over your head. With great difficulty, you opened your eyes one last time in confusion. “Identity?” he added, a frown on his beautiful, proud lips, the black markings on his face smooth as the plane of his forehead as he regarded you distantly, making a decision you could not possibly weigh. “I won’t take it back even if you beg.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but your body lacked the resources to bring them to life. Instead, you nodded with what strength you had left. You would always want identity - a true identity - given by none other than Sukuna himself.

Then your eyes closed for a final time as an exhausted breath fell silently from your lips. Sukuna watched you quietly a moment longer, considering your request. A lock of pink hair fell over his forehead as he ran a hand up and down your lifeless arm.

You did not know what you were asking for, but he did. It would be cruel of him, selfish. He paused in a moment of uncharacteristic, unprecedented mercy. But when did he deny himself something he wanted?

Mind made up, he lifted a hand and poised a black fingertip over your chest, beneath which your heart lay hidden, resting at last. All concern for your eventual regret dismissed, Sukuna dragged the sharp talon over your skin, splitting the flesh and revealing the life-giving organ beneath. Why not bind you to his side for all eternity? It was what he wanted and what he wanted was all that mattered.

He cut open your heart, revealing the chambers of the muscle in their final twitches of life. A black smirk twisted his features. Why not? Why not treat himself? Why not enslave you?

He curled the fingers of his hand into a fist, piercing the palm of his own hand until he drew blood. He opened his fist and watched with eager greed as the inky blood that had pooled in his palm dripped down into your open heart.

It took only moments for his cursed energy to do its work. It swirled around you, sealing your heart back shut with a snap, sewing your skin together above it until not even a blemish remained. Your back arched as your heart pumped Sukuna’s blood through you, tainting your own. Your very body raised off of him slightly, lifted upwards by the dark energy coursing through you, healing every wound and injury throughout your ruined body.

The flow of blood that had been spilling out between your legs ceaselessly, stopped abruptly, and the red and green water dissolved into nothing but an inky black surrounding the two of you. Sukuna’s smirk gave way to an unapologetic grin as he watched you change before his eyes, beneath his hands – entirely his. Unbreakable now.

With a gasp, your eyes flew open as a different kind of pain surged through you – a pain akin to anger at its very extremes. Light shone from your form, intermingling with the darkness, burning through your skin. An anguished groan left your lips as you fought the foreign influence, but it was fast, it was powerful. It was Sukuna himself inside you – although in an entirely different way.

And because it was Sukuna, you let him have you. You let him flow through every inch of your being and embraced him – alive, elated, enlightened. It wasn’t unlike a climax to have him delve so intimately into your being, settling into your very nerves, your pores, between your cells. You were alight with him and it was euphoria like nothing you had ever known.

When the delicious torment had finished coursing through you, leaving nothing but the tantalizing tendrils of his being lingering just beneath your skin. You were suddenly awake like you had never been before. Awareness flooded you, of the birds beyond the bath chamber, the water dripping onto the tiling, and Sukuna’s heart thudding darkly, so close to you. You turned on him – suddenly ravenous for him. Needing ever more of him to replace the cursed energy that had stopped coursing through you with such intensity. You wanted him to give you more, to consume you or let you consume him – you weren’t sure which.

You straddled his hips and pinned him against the marble at his back – suddenly stronger than you had ever been – and pressed your mouth to his, with a hunger like nothing earthly. Still, there was an anger within you, just beneath the surface, like a living being, waiting to be provoked to life. His anger, you realized. It was the rage you glimpsed every now and then between his mocking smiles and punishing caresses. An emotion that always lived with him – one you now shared.

You groaned into his mouth, running your tongue along his teeth, biting at his lip, teasing his tongue with your own – coaxing him to fight back, to battle with you, to play with you. But he merely leaned back with a smirk, enjoying your little rush of need. He kissed you back leisurely, slowing down when you needed speed, and gentling his touch when you craved wild, reckless abandon. The damned contrarian. He was doing it just to upset you, you knew.

A growl built in your throat, and he heard it, his grin widening.

“Well, would you look at that?” he muttered, the surprise in his voice causing your eyes to open as well. His expression gave you pause, stemming the raging need within you.

Something was wrong.

You didn’t know what he was seeing, but the look in his eyes scared you, more than anything you had experienced since you had come to know him. It made you feel like you had made an awful, irreversible mistake. It made you want to tear the skin from your face without quite knowing why.

“Looks like there was something of the divine in you after all, goddess.” There was a mocking tone to his low voice, his hushed murmur intimate and forbidden. His breath against your ear sent an icy shiver racing down your spine. His cruel intonation, just the way his voice sounded when he was testing the limits of your capacity for pain, heightened your sense of alarm. Something was terribly, terribly wrong and Sukuna sounded as if it was not at all a surprise to him. You whirled towards the water trying to see a glimpse of your reflection in its inky black, trying to see what he had seen. You held your breath, waiting for the ripples to settle, waiting in horrified anticipation.

And there it was. Whatever he had done to you had changed you. There were black markings on your face, not unlike his own, if somewhat more delicate in appearance, across your collarbones and wrists as well, the design of which cut off abruptly here and there. Your hair and your eyes, too, had gone an inky black, not unlike the water the two of you were submerged in. But interlaced through the black locks were strands of white, stark in contrast – and almost cruel to look at. Just like your left iris, which seemed to have been cut through a third of the way with white, leaving that eye half-black, half-white.

You did not need Sukuna to tell you what it meant. He had turned you into something demonic with his cursed energy, but it had not been able to take over completely because somewhere within you, unbeknownst to you, the power of the goddess had slumbered.

The temple had not been lying to you.

Your world turned on its head as you struggled to come to grips with the meaning of this awful realization.

Sukuna’s hands curled along your waist to meet at your midsection. You saw in the water’s reflection the way he watched over your shoulder as your hands dragged down your face in abject horror. Ever a grin on his lips at your torment.

“You knew this?” you gasped in disbelief. Had he not been the one to disillusion you? To tell you that you were no more than a woman?

Sukuna bent his head to nip at the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Have I ever pretended otherwise, goddess?” he teased against your skin.

The nickname was jarring, and you suddenly realized why he had never given it up. He had known all along what you were. And perhaps destroying your belief in yourself, was how he had broken you down in the first place, defeating you with barely any effort at all. Had you truly attempted to fight him after he dispelled your divine barrier or had that simply been enough for you to concede defeat, convinced you that you were in the wrong place, fighting someone else’s battle?

Now here you were, in the arms of the very one generations of worshippers had prayed for you to defeat, tainted entirely with his blood, his energy. Already, he was parting your legs again, ready to partake of you, liking you even more in this tainted state.

You tipped your head back against his shoulder despite yourself, still wanting him, despite everything. Still willing to give yourself over to the evil that you had been cautioned against your entire life. “Am I a goddess, Sukuna?” you whimpered, the vaulted ceiling above you blurred as tears pooled in your eyes.

His fingers found the apex of your thighs, fully healed now.

“Not anymore,” he laughed cruelly, and you felt your heart breaking into pieces. His fingers slid along your slit, pleased to have been gifted a blank, uninjured slate.

“Then, what - ?” Tears spilled over your cheeks but the question died on your lips as his fingers found their way inside you. Your eyes slid shut and a breathy moan echoed throughout the chamber as your back arched in pleasure. Whatever he had done to you had heightened your sensations exponentially, as your body responded to him in a way that was wholly unnatural, as if every inch of your being was poised in limbo, waiting perpetually for his touch, waiting to submit to him always.

“Mine,” was the answer growled into your ear. The reverberations burned into you through his chest, his voice vibrating through your ear, down your exposed throat.

And then he took you as if that was the only thing that was true, the only thing that mattered.

----------------------------------------

Power.

It spilled out of you, from your very fingertips. Part Sukuna and part something that was entirely your own. Something had broken within you. You saw now, the pieces that made up your being. The divinity, the curse – and the broken woman between the two. All of those were you.

When Sukuna re-entered his harem, with you at his side, a hushed silence fell over the assembled. You had no patience for the harlots before you. Too many of them, no different from the girl in blue who had learned her lesson too late. They, all of them, had made eyes at Sukuna and worse – plotted to have you removed from his side. Sidling up to him coyly as you had seen. They didn’t know about the undying rage within you, how you waited for it to be provoked, to justify a lashing out of power, to give reason to the destruction you longed to unleash.

You saw her one moment, a lovely blonde – the same whose fingers had traced the markings on Sukuna’s chest - whispering something to another behind her hand, her eyes on you. The next moment, the candlelight flickered, and a scream tore through her as the ground at her feet softened, drawing her in. Horror filled her eyes as she struggled to make sense of her predicament. Some eyes amongst the gathering flicked towards you, piecing two and two together.

You made it slow; it was more satisfying that way. She sunk down to her knees, clawing at the flagstones around her, begging for help, but her friends only staggered backward, terrified to be the next to face your ire. She was up to her neck before she turned her helpless gaze toward you, begging for mercy.

But you weren’t feeling merciful.

You did not even glance at Sukuna as the rest of them turned towards you, unsure where to place you, struggling to make sense of the changed hierarchy. But it had changed, and you were feeling charitable enough to educate them on it.

Darkness seemed to gather wherever you focused your anger, your power. And the cursed spirit that was looking at you in disbelief was next. Lest the fools think only mortals were under your thumb.

Not being human, he caught on a bit quicker, and almost immediately began begging for his life. His gaze caught between Sukuna’s mirth and your wrath. Burying him alive would be boring – you had already done that once. What if you crushed him as Sukuna had done? You wondered what that would feel like. You concentrated the air around him, formed it into a solid, invisible cage, and shrunk it bit by bit. You watched the agony contort his face, watched his body shrink in turn, until blood spilled from the split skin of his crushed form – until his bones broke; until there was nothing left to hurt. His screams had abated, and that was the end.

Tch.

You searched for your next target and found that everyone in the room had gone silent and had fallen to the floor, prostrating to you. You frowned and turned to Sukuna, suddenly understanding his awful, murderous boredom. There seemed to be nothing worse.

There was a broken, bitter part of you that mourned your lost mortality, your lost divinity. A part that only found relief when someone else was screaming. Sukuna would understand, and he did. It was ín the subtle inclination of his head, the smirk that teased his lips. His scarlet irises were pleased. He seemed so taken with you that you found it hard to care for the parts of yourself you had lost.

He nodded towards the plateau before you, upon which sat a throne that seemed to have been built into the very ground itself, large enough for two to sit comfortably side by side. It was overlaid with gold, but you suspected stone or iron lingered beneath that. It was the only explanation you could come up with for the formidable seat. High-backed and elegant, intricate designs were fashioned into the metal, inlaid with rubies and diamonds, and cushioned with embroidered red velvet. It was the throne he had sat upon when demanding you service others, but that memory felt centuries old. Distant, irrelevant.

This was the largest kingdom Sukuna had conquered to date and the throne room represented that accurately with its luxury. The palatial chamber was built in such a way as to carry the voice of whoever sat on that throne to every corner of the court. Structured so that wherever you stood, you faced the central figure perched upon that seat of power. The fool who had ruled here had seen to that, assuring that no one dared to turn their backs on him, assuring that he had all present in his view from his elevated seat of power. Perhaps, it was justified in a sense. This kingdom was a hub of trade and wealthy in resources. Not only that – it was located central to the neighboring kingdoms, strategically situated for negotiation, attack, or defense, but Sukuna cared little for that. A throne was no better than chains to him.

Sukuna glanced over his shoulder at the assembly and the bloodlust glinting in his ruby irises was a warning enough to have them scrambling to clear the room. A command they read clearly.

Cowards. Bloodlust of your own still itched in your fingertips, and you longed to see what havoc you could wreak.

The king of curses led you up the few steps to the throne, stopping just before it. He withdrew a hand from where it rested in the crook of his white robe and took hold of yours. Lifting it up to his mouth, he brushed his lips over your knuckles, an action that sent shivers up your spine.

“Rule over this rabble for me,” he commanded, tightening his grip on your hand. Your gaze slid, unbidden over the throne beside you. He wanted you to rule? You could not fathom if it was kindness, generosity, or another form of punishment you had yet to wrap your head around. His mouth was set determinedly, and his eyes peered at you with no hint of that malicious mirth that usually lined his lovely scarlet eyes. There was nothing but earnestness within them, join me, they seemed to say, be on my side. Do as I do.

You held his gaze a moment and understood. He had no interest in ruling, in holding court over his subjects, in negotiating trade and regulations. His only interests were on the battlefield and between your legs. Rule for him and leave him free to cleave through his enemies, their screams echoing in his ears – his own version of nirvana.

You envied him for a moment, suddenly taken with a bloodlust of your own. How you would like to be beside him, cutting down the legions as you had seen him do. Blood and screams thick in the air. Afterwards, you would sate your lust with him in your tents. Each of you ravenous and still drenched in blood. Grappling for dominance until he overpowered you and the two of had had your fill of each other. Bloody and content until you did it all again the next day.

You still weren’t certain how much of these new facets of your personality were your own and how much of it was the natural consequence of Sukuna’s blood within you. It would be too simple to assume it was all his influence and you held no accountability for the dark desires burning within you. In truth, you knew a part of you had enjoyed this even before he had changed you so markedly. You had always enjoyed the display of power that was his wrath on the battlefield. And when his eyes had met yours on your travels, when he had taken you with blood still on his hands – you shivered at the thought. You had enjoyed that even when you were human. Even when you were divine.

But it wasn’t a goddess or a slave he was asking you to be now. Not even a reward for his loyal minions. No, now he was asking something else entirely.

“A queen?” you said quietly, turning from the throne to your maker. “Is that the identity you would bestow upon me?”

He smirked and took hold of your shoulders soothing his thumbs over the tension in your muscles. “I’ve stayed here too long,” he muttered, changing the subject as his hands meandered down your form and untied the sash around your waist. He pushed your robe from your shoulders leisurely, offering no explanation for his actions. Queen or goddess – he could have you whenever he wanted you, however he wanted you. He turned you, entirely naked now, towards the throne and you followed in the direction his hands guided you, struggling to understand what he was after.

He maneuvered you onto the throne, on your knees, holding onto the high back of the solid seat as he positioned himself behind you, his lips at your ear. You felt wickedly exposed and out of place and so you sighed with relief when the frigid air at your back was replaced with his solid, heated form. You wanted to kiss him, but his hand snaked around your neck, taking hold of your chin as he turned your face away from him, giving him access to your throat instead. He nibbled at your ear and nipped his way down your throat as he freed himself from the confines of his trousers, ready to take you on the very throne he was giving you. He ran his hand along his members, and the two fused into one. The very sight of his impossible girth had your heart dropping into your stomach. You could never have taken that before he had turned you.

“Would you like that?” he asked, as he sunk into you slowly, inch for delectable inch, running his tongue along your pulse as he did so. “For them to call you a queen?”

You moaned in delirious ecstasy. You could never have enough of him. Your insides made way for him, welcoming him, needing him. He had changed the very essence of your being. You needed him the way you needed air and water – he could take you anywhere, any way at all, and you would thank him for it.

You arched your back and rocked against him impatiently, feeling him filling your core more completely, and could not help the whines of pleasure that spilled freely from your lips. Sukuna held the sides of the high-backed throne and crushed you between himself and the soft velvet, allowing you to fuck yourself on his cock with a desperation you would have taken care to conceal before. His canines buried themselves in your throat, prompting fresh blood to spill forth and he closed his mouth over the wound, drinking it down greedily.

He rolled his hips into you, his need as great as yours, prompting more needy whimpers from you. It was never enough with him.

With reckless abandon, the two of you found your own rhythm as you pushed against him, driving yourself to new heights. You could feel him within you, deeper than should have been possible, you could see him bulging through your skin, see exactly how deep he was, and you pressed a hand to your skin in awe as you felt him thrust into you with abandon. The head of his shaft was within your very ribcage, you noticed dimly, intoxicated with lust and pleasure. The kind of penetration that had killed you once, but your new body could take the pain. Your new body was made for him.

Gasping, panting, you fell from the heights of ecstasy, tumbling down headfirst through shockwaves of pleasure. When Sukuna suddenly, unexpectedly, pulled away from you. You had less than a moment to grieve the loss of content as he slipped out of you and took hold of your shoulder, turning you until you were sitting properly on the throne. You looked up at him, confused and still dizzy with pleasure. This was where he belonged, standing over you, all enigmatic lethal beauty, looking down on you like a god in judgment. His cock in his hand, his face flushed with lust and desire, intensity burning in eyes as red as your blood that dripped from his lips – the sight of him had your pulse singing in wanton need - and then he came.

His copious seed doused your form entirely. Warm, sticky fluid gushed over your face, over your chest and legs – all over the throne you sat on. Shock and humiliation set in as you tried to make sense of what had transpired. Sukuna braced himself, still, with one hand on the back of the throne as he leaned over you. His cock still dribbling ejaculate onto you. He panted, catching his breath, and then his expression broke into a grin as he took in the sight of you.

Like a cum-drowned mouse.

He took hold of your chin and kissed you on the lips with a tenderness that belied your current state. “No matter who calls you a queen, sweetheart…” he purred, lingering at your lips, heedless of the sticky, white liquid dripping from your chin. “Don’t forget that this is the throne you rule from.”

He leaned lazily over you, reaching down to retrieve the crown on the floor, one he had discarded since occupying the castle. One that had remained there, worthless because Sukuna had deemed it so, and placed it on your dripping head.

“Don’t forget that you are my whore.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes full of wonder despite yourself. He was cruel – and you loved him for it.

“I might forget anyway,” you replied boldly, not bothering to make an attempt at cleaning yourself up. He was clearly enjoying the sight.

His ruby eyes glinted with mirth and malice – a sentiment you recognized now. That sensation you also felt every now and then. Give me a reason, it seemed to say, give me the slightest excuse to unleash my rage on you.

It was tiring keeping it in all the time. You understood.

You crossed your legs paying no mind to the stickiness between them, one over the other, every bit the stature of a queen, even crowned in gold, and robed in his seed.

“You’ll have to come back and remind me.”

A true laugh, short and surprised, fell from Sukuna’s lips. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his grin evidence of how much he was enjoying you. “You can be sure of that.” Both a promise and a threat – and sweeter than any lover’s confession.

Heat pooled in your belly at his assurance, and then without so much as another word, he disappeared.

He was truly gone. He hated being kept indoors, he hated courtiers, and he hated his own clean hands. He needed to be tearing into something, you knew, and so you understood when he went back to war like a lion to his prey. You could not ask him to stay.

You washed yourself and cleaned the throne – and then you ruled.

You oversaw all matters of state that so bored Sukuna and made sure his kingdom flourished. You were determined to have his approval when he saw the progress his capital had made. There was pleasure in all affairs of government for you. You seemed to have a natural affinity towards it. You soon established a reputation as a ruler who was equal parts harsh and fair. You did not relish taking the last sheep of some poor farmer, and so the peasants tended to welcome your rule. The rich and powerful, however, were another story entirely. As were the miscreants who resorted to crime. You relished the moments when a fool came to challenge you. You delighted in all the different ways there were to take a head from a body.

But those challenges soon came to be few and far between as word spread quickly – the Queen of Curses was not to be toyed with. Any slight, real or imagined, was met with a quick and cruel response. Their caution drove you mad with the need for violence. What was the purpose of the power buzzing in your veins, if you had no one to eviscerate with it? More often than you cared to admit, you envied Sukuna’s freedom on the battlefield. What you wouldn’t do to feel someone’s pulse slowing beneath your palms, to feel their blood running between your fingers. If you did not have challengers and fools to punish, what were you to do with this craving for bloodshed?

When boredom became too much to bear, you brought people out of the dungeons to fight to the death in the courtyard square. 18 prisoners fought one another, and you promised the victor freedom. It was a brilliant sight. Your eyes lit up at their desperation, their cunning – their violence. It reminded you of your beloved.

And when the victor kneeled before you, to receive your royal pardon, all exhaustion and weariness – you killed him, of course. There was no lie. It was a freedom, of sorts.

And of course, it would not do for word to reach Sukuna of you pardoning prisoners. On the contrary, you hoped he would hear of your cruelty, of your violence. You hoped it would make him lust for you and bring him back home.

And sometimes, it did. When he heard tell in hushed tones of the Queen of Curses’ latest cruelty. Some horror beyond imagining meted out on whoever had been fool enough to offend her, he hungered for you with a passion that left a trail of broken women in his wake – and still his lust was not sated.

He would be haunted by the image of you, that once pure, innocent face of a goddess stained with blood and smirking in pleasure as you took some fool apart piece for piece. As you murdered and tortured and wanted more still, as you listened to screams the way he did – as songs of praise to your power. And the need to take you, to fill you, to wreck your body with the ravages of his lust drove him to impatience and distraction – and nothing in the world could keep him from you then.

You knew this, of course.

And every time you meted out punishment, crueler than the last, you hoped this was the one that would bring your cursed king home. Because even if all the world called you the queen of curses, you were never more content than when you were his whore.

[theygotbitchesinmedia]

ask dump

i have a couple dozen unanswered asks on this blog, most of which i believe are media recommendations, so i'm going to go through those now in a batch!

if you haven't seen it already We Are Lady Parts would be a fantastic recommendation for this blog. I started it last week and really love it. It's about a struggling punk Muslim girls band who recruit the extremely anxious, goody-two-shoes Amina to be their lead guitarist. It balance its moments of drama really well with the comedy and all of the women in the band get to be deeply weird in different and endlessly charming ways. My favorite is Amina because of her very relatable habit to have elaborate silly daydreams about anything and everything. Good show with some really good women!

I've heard good things about this one! Adding it to the list

I can't remember if you take recs for things in progress or not but the webtoon Katlaya Rising is currently the high point of my week, the art style POPS and it is jam-packed with girls and girls who love girls

I will always read things in progress 👍 I honestly in some ways prefer getting into stuff before it's finished. Like an animal with one of those food bowls that stops you from eating too fast. Added to the list.

Please read Villain Initialization!!!! The female characters are really good!!!!!!!!!

Looking at the cover and description for this one it seems like most of the female cast is gonna be side characters. i'll add it to the list but itll probably be reallllly back burner unless someone wants to go to bat hard for it and sway me

if youre taking recommendations bittersweet con panna is a cute yuri manhwa and hacks is an insane tvshow about millenial comedy writer who got cancelled on twitter and a beautiful old standup comic about to lose her vegas residency.

added both! never heard of bittersweet con panna but my sister has been going really hard for hacks and i feel like i owe it to her to watch that sooner rather than later because of all the media im always trying to force onto her

"Kevin Can F*** Himself" on AMC is fantastic and has some really interesting female protags, I recommend. Might be a similar vibe to On Becoming a God in Central Florida actually!

Already on the list!

i'd like to second the rec for no home, probably one of the greatest webtoons of all time

one moth ago anon i can safely say you were correct about this it is certainly one of the greatest webtoons of all time. i do think its not really About women but i get why you all wanted me to read it enough to push it

@whatasmoothgardener Reccing a short manga I've been reading recently called Is Kichijoji the Only Place to Live. Its a manga about twin girls who run a small real estate company in Tokyo from the POV of their clients. It has a unique art style, its female character focused, and it teaches you about the different places in Tokyo. However its kinda episodic.

I don't mind episodic at all. Cool to see female manga protags who arent stick thin! added to the list

@phoenixfangs i got into a webtoon the other day called nevermore and considered recommending it to u, but i second guessed myself like oh what if its not worth recommending and its stupid actually, BUT i had a dream last night that u were talking about it so i think i have to at least put it on ur radar, if it isnt already xD what happens if u take edgar allen poe stories and make it about lesbians? u get the webtoon nevermore ❤️ theres an actual Plot to it too im not trying to sell it based on tropes, i just cant describe it better than the actual synopsis/description on webtoon, so id say its worth a glance!

At first glance i'm not sure how to my personal tastes this owuld be but i feel like i have maybe been unfairly biased against popular webtoons in that front. added to the list !

@counttwinkula listen i know your "media to get around to" list is forever long but i reread the haunting of hill house (the book) for my podcast and eleanor and theodora just. won't stop touching each other. some of the most classic toxic yuri imo. also the 1963 film adaptation (the haunting) is so good

ill always appreciate a horror recommendation from one of my learned Horror Mutuals. added both!

if it changes anything, you can find the main stories of arknights and limbus company here and here respectively without downloading the game: [retcons dot github dot io slash limbus-storylogs] [akgcc dot github dot io slashcc slash story dot html hashtag main] (sorry it wont let me send links) i totally understand if u think its too much trouble, but i do think both games have very good female characters

I'm sorry... i just cant go down this road.... it's a path i'm not willing ot walk. if i was going to read the stories for a gacha game i wasn't playing i would just go read shoujo kageki revue starlight re:LIVE. which i havent been able to make myself do. so its just not gonna end up happening

have you heard of tangle tower… it’s a relatively short murder mystery click and point game about two families & their secrets. the art is gorgeous + the game is fully voiced, and the protagonist + his assistant have a dynamic that reminds me of the classic ace attorney ‘lawyer + weird girl’ duos. the majority of the cast are women, and the game features some of the Girls Of All Time. highly recommend, esp since you’re an ace attorney fan

Added to the list!

if you’re trying to flesh out the book section, i’d like to recommend three parts dead by max gladstone! admittedly it’s been a hot second since I’ve read it so i can’t speak on the quality of the writing itself, but the plot and the worldbuilding had some interesting stuff. the novel follows tara, a necromancer in a world where doing magic is more akin to being a lawyer, who’s hired to resurrect a god. the book is the first in a series, and the books that follow have some other interesting female protagonists + canonical queer women if you enjoy it o7

Sounds neat! Added to the list

ok i still have some more from back in fucking April that i didnt manage to get to. but im getting distracted now

[yuckie-obsessive]

Idea yandere septiceyes x dead Reader and all of them work together to bring back reader from the after life. And reader tries to escape all the septiceyes and all of them working together to get reader back "home"

I’ve never really considered any of the other egos other than Chase and Anti. I guess I can make some HC lists for this.

Guys, I totally went overboard on this so I really hope you enjoy xD

Note: I’m only gonna cover Anti, Chase, Henrik, Jackieboy, JJ and Marvin, respectively. The latter four being a tentative take on the yandere side of these characters. I don’t know much about their fleshed out personalities or what is widely accepted in the community. So… please be kind 😅

Back From The Dead

Gonna clean the set up a little: the egos are trying their best to bring back dead!reader, with or without help. When reader is brought back, they understandably cannot comprehend their situation. They are scared out of their mind at the reality of being revived. Each ego reacts in their own way and pursue reader to bring them “home”.

- cause of death is up to your imagination

Tw: death (obviously), obsessive/possessive behavior (yandere), implied nudity, blood, use of restraints, abuse mention, kidnapping, gaslighting, stalking, drugging, alcoholism, non-consensual medical procedure, mind control, physical possession (body control), isolation, mental breakdown, anxiety

Jacksepticeye Egos x Reader (gender neutral)

Okay let’s get into it.

~★~

Words: 4,928

Anti: possessive yandere

How he finds & feels about (y/n):

He met you through Chase, and though he was initially annoyed with yet another person to keep track of, a devilish plan formed in his mind.

A being as soft as you, so incredibly soft, would be easy to manipulate to his own wishes.

Don’t expect to have privacy ever around him after this.

Especially online.

He has immense control over all things electric, of course, and will use that to know what your habits are.

Even peeping through your phone’s camera and mic to monitor you.

He wouldn’t really call this being obsessive until he got in far too deep.

He isolates you and eventually lures you into a home he had “renovated” for his needs.

Then begins the long process of reprogramming your mind.

Though, he starts growing soft.

You are kind, no one had ever really been this kind to him before.

He doesn’t allow you to talk to the other egos anymore.

He’s not sharing you with anyone.

Hating when people mess with what’s his.

And you’ve become his most prized treasure.

All your attention belongs to him.

What happens when you die:

Denial.

You can’t be gone.

You shouldn’t have had the opportunity to encounter anything dangerous under his watchful eye.

This shouldn’t have happened.

His emotions are manic and volatile at any provocation.

Exploding and lashing out at anyone and everything that slightly inconveniences him.

You are the only thing that kept him calm.

And he’d do almost anything to bring you back.

Almost.

Would he reach out for help?:

Absolutely tf not.

He doesn’t want to be seen as weak.

Ever.

Reaching out to any other ego would be a huge hit to his own supersized pride.

You were already removed from them and he would never put you in a position to be taken away.

They would just fuck it all up anyway.

He wants to bring you back and prove to himself that he can overpower death itself.

How he would bring you back:

His range of control is vast within the online sphere.

He will quickly scan through billions of lines of text and code to search for answers.

Anti is precise in executing this plan to bring you back.

Using knowledge of human anatomy and various texts about the human consciousness, he would use a mix of both science and magic.

He is basically a demon after all.

He uses dark forces to pull you back to reality.

Wherever you ended up, he forcefully pulls you back into the waking world.

And he will ensure everything falls into place perfectly.

Reactions after he brings you back:

Your eyes flutter open and his pride is reinforced.

He can do anything, even bringing the dead back to life.

Then the rush of relief hits.

You were back with him.

He envelopes you in a tight embrace.

Possessively so.

This wasn’t going to happen again, he would make sure of it.

You’re frightened, naturally.

It’s an expected human response.

He wouldn’t be surprised.

But he’s still a little hurt when you wrestle yourself out of his hold and bolt for the door.

How do you escape?:

Oh, darling… you won’t.

This house you resided in had every inch connected to a mainframe.

He could detect every movement, controlling every working aspect from a single point.

So when you grab the handle to the front door, you shouldn’t be shocked to find it locked.

You also shouldn’t be surprised to find every exit suddenly blocked by shutters.

How he reacts to your escape:

He knows this is a terrifying process.

You just died and were revived. You must still remember the pain.

But he put in all that work and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

No no no, he wouldn’t allow it.

Fight and reject him?

He’ll just laugh in your face.

Never admitting that it hurt him.

Everyone made his life so goddamn difficult.

He gave you affection, resurrected you and THIS is how you thank him?

Now he keeps you locked in your room 24/7.

Strapping you down to your bed, you have as much time as you need to reflect and accept how kind he’s been.

He provides you with everything you need to barely survive, of course

And watches you break down enough in order to return you to the normal life you shared.

By force.

“Do you think I want to do this? I’m NOT letting you get hurt again! You understand don’t you? I’m keeping you safe from yourself.”

Accept him?

He’ll hold you and calm you down with back rubs and sweet words of reassurance.

Treating you to all of your favorite things.

You might be treated like a porcelain doll from now on, but he does so lovingly.

The thought of going out was a long forgotten dream.

At least not without him practically glued to your side.

His form distorts and his expression shifts wildly at the idea of letting you out to get hurt again.

Though he hides it from you as best he can.

He just can’t stand the thought of letting you put yourself in ANY situation where you could get hurt.

So he’s all too happy to keep you at his side permanently.

His sweet, sweet (y/n).

You’ve already shared so much together after all.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“I’m so glad we can be together forever. I’ll keep a better eye on you from now on, I promise… You’re my everything~”

Chase Brody: protective yandere

How he finds & feels about (y/n):

after his family had… disappeared, you became his new family.

He relied on you.

You distracted him from everything else.

You listened and were there when he would break down.

You were comforting.

You knew how to handle his depressive episodes.

He decided he wouldn’t lose you like he lost everyone else.

Understand, he has to study anyone that comes into your life.

To keep you safe.

People can take you away.

They could hurt you.

It’s why he kept you distant from the other egos.

Knowing all too well the dangers of a few notable figures…

So he asked you to move in with him- as a roommate.

He needed your stability.

You even helped him out of his alcoholism when you moved in.

He could finally see the silver lining.

What happens when you die:

Panic and denial.

Not again not again not again.

You were his everything!

He NEEDED you!

How was he going to survive when everyone in his life died before him?

He’s willing to do anything to bring you back.

Would he reach out for help?: 

Yes.

Though a little hesitant, he reaches out to Marvin first as he was seen as the most trustworthy.

Marvin suggests getting Henrik involved.

He’s nervous to ask Henrik. He’s eccentric at the best of times.

But they get him involved and start a plan to bring you back.

How he would bring you back:

They use both Marvin’s magical abilities and Henrik’s extensive medical knowledge.

Reviving your body and calling your consciousness back to the living world.

Reactions after they bring you back:

Literally crying from happiness and relief.

It didn’t seem possible.

He always held out hope though.

Your confused and frightened and at first Chase didn’t understand why.

Henrik explains how you probably remember the pain of dying.

Marvin counters that you could’ve had a metaphysical experience and you weren’t ready to return.

Regardless, you run as a result of your frightened state.

How do you escape?:

Simply running.

None of them were expecting this outcome, leaving them unprepared.

WAIT A MINUTE-

You could get hurt again!

Chase can’t go through another instance of this- it might actually break him fully he lets that happen.

How he reacts to your escape:

He’s frantic and enlists the help of the other two egos to track you down and bring you back to safety.

Reject and fight him?

He’s devastated.

His closest friend, his family, no longer wants anything to do with him?

Wait, he can change your mind!

So he stalks you.

You can’t get anywhere without him knowing.

He sends care packages of your favorite things.

Writes letters about how much he misses you and how he wants to talk.

Apologize for whatever he did wrong.

Not admitting that he started drinking again.

He moves to whatever city you relocated to.

Asks you questions about your new life.

Eventually he thinks you prefer things this way.

Okay, he can keep his distance.

But he’s never going to fully leave you.

Ever.

Until you let your guard down enough for him to take you back home.

“You know I’ll always be lookin’ out for ya. Though, it’s starting to get hard to protect you when you keep running around so much… (Y/n), can we go home now?”

If you come willingly?

Chase is still an anxious wreck, but your presence is reliably calming.

He sticks close to your side for months until he’s able to even remotely relax.

Don’t think you’ll be able to return to an independent life.

He needs to know everything you’re doing at all times.

You can hardly do anything without him over your shoulder.

He would rather spend the rest of his days glued to you rather than risk you being hurt again.

“Babe, I-I know I haven’t been the greatest person to be around. Actually I’m straight up terrible- especially for letting this happen. You’ll forgive me wont you? Please! You’re all I have left… and you know I’m always here for you right?”

Henrik Schneeplestien: controlling yandere

How he finds & feels about (y/n):

Initially a doctor/patient relationship.

Purely professional.

He gets to see you regularly.

From simple colds to mental struggles.

He wouldn’t say this to a patient, but you were the saddest little thing he’s seen in ages.

Regularly wondering how you’re clumsily drifting through life.

How were you still alive with all this misfortune?

It was amusing at first.

Then a bubbling worry began to grow.

You were always kindhearted, treating staff with high respect. 

Including himself.

If not a bit quiet and shy.

Looking at your hands anxiously or really anywhere else when discussing your issues.

God, you really were just an absolute wreck.

Was no one looking after you?

Surely someone had to be.

Right?

The tipping point was seeing you covered with various bruises during a physical.

It reminded him of the abuse victims he would occasionally encounter.

You waved them all off as not being the most coordinated at work or at home.

Making him felt anxious…

Something worse could happen.

He had to take action before you got even more hurt.

Henrik wasn’t above slowing drugging you into slowly depending on him.

So your visits became more frequent

Until you broke down in his office from the stress of this “new ailment”

You could hardly work your job and these constant visits were draining your wallet.

He was reassuring and comforting.

Everything will be much better from now on, he promised that.

Then preparing another injection of medication “to ease the pain and stress”.

It was too easy.

You fell unconscious.

As it was an impromptu visit after hours, no one was around to see him carry you off in his car.

Stealing you away from everyone else.

What happens when you die:

Stoic.

He knew someday something like this might happen.

So he already has a plan to bring you back.

He’s thought of this in advance after all.

He had a solution for every medical possibility.

You were the most important thing to him, so he needed some way to revive you should an accident like this occur.

Would he reach out for help?: 

No.

Everything is under control and an emotional ego would only get in the way.

They never met you anyway.

You essentially didn’t exist to the outside world so letting others know where you are would only bring more trouble.

How he would bring you back:

He is a medical expert.

Multiple times he has mapped your brain and nervous system.

Without your knowledge…

An invasive surgery and a large cocktail of drugs made in-house would reawaken your system.

Much time passed with this procedure.

But sure enough, you’re body awoke with a gasp and heavy coughing.

Like being born anew.

Reactions after he brings you back:

He had conditioned you at this point to feel comfort with his presence.

And is expecting you to be delighted with his god-like abilities.

But this situation was one never experienced for you.

It frightened you to your core.

Enough for you to blindly rush forward, trying to run away from the awful pain.

How do you escape?:

You run out of his makeshift operating room and out into the open.

Ripping open all the stitching from your life-giving operation.

You obviously didn’t make it far.

Warm blood rushing down your limbs.

Once the pain set in, you drop and nearly fainted from seeing so much red.

How he reacts to your escape:

Genuinely surprised to see you run off like that.

Concerned something could go wrong as you left his sight.

You needed rest.

You needed to heal.

Now you were exposing your injured self to the rot of the world.

When he finds you, he’s distraught but moves with purpose.

Coming to rescue his favorite patient.

Fight him?

He has a sedative ready.

Then carries your unconscious body back inside.

Oh how he wishes you didn’t fight.

Those legs would be a problem in the future…

Another surgery.

That pesky little problem is taken care of.

Now you wouldn’t run away.

Another surgery would fix that inner voice telling you to run.

Maybe remove some of those problematic memories too.

Working you back to that precious little darling he sculpted you into.

“Libeling, I do this out of love you see. Can you imagine what else could happen if I wasn’t here to save you?”

Accept his help?

He is more than forgiving.

Of course your emotions had overtaken logic.

The human condition is hard to predict, but he is patient with you.

He gently carries you back inside to tend to your wounds.

He is careful and every movement executed with precision.

Your gentle soul settled in an even more delicate body.

He worships your form.

While you heal, you are forbidden from moving until the stitches can be removed.

Maybe even longer…

He acts as your hands from now on.

He’s already seen everything so there was nothing to be bashful about.

He washes your body.

Cleans your teeth.

Hand feeds you.

Dresses you everyday.

You may not have independence, but he would give you anything you wanted.

As long as it had nothing to do with the outside world.

And you never had to leave his sight.

“Shatz, DON’T- please don’t get up. Let me get that for you. You could get hurt again! I’m your doctor (y/n), and I know what’s best for you.”

Jackieboy Man: paranoid yandere

How he finds & feels about (y/n):

Casually sees you in a specific part of town on this routine checks around town.

For some reason he felt a pull to you.

Making a small habit of observing you from different vantage points.

Small turned into regular occurrences.

He found where you lived.

Turning into a full blown obsession.

Needing to know everything you liked, what you did, where you worked.

He slipped up on his responsibilities to the common people.

But you became far more important in his eyes.

He enjoyed sneaking into your home undetected.

Watching you sleep…

You had never been this safe in your life.

Until you fell under his constant watch.

He introduced himself by “random chance”.

You knew of this hometown hero and were naturally excited.

It became common to “run into” him from this point.

Well, you might as well get to know each other over coffee in the mornings,

And lunches,

And dinners.

After a time, you invited him into your home.

Seems he was already comfortable, but you simply waved it off as his nonchalant attitude and usually chipper disposition.

He showed you his face.

An intense display of trust.

You were his after this.

He was paranoid someone would catch on to your relationship.

So he whisked you away to an undisclosed location.

To protect you.

His job brought too much danger to your life.

Now all those bad people can’t possibly hurt you anymore.

What happens when you die:

Guilt.

He wasn’t protective enough.

This was his fault.

He owed it to you to bring you back.

You didn’t deserve this.

You are the most precious thing in his world.

Would he reach out for help?:

As long as he trusted them enough.

Which is an extremely short list.

Marvin would team up with him on occasion so he sought his help and expertise.

How he would bring you back:

Closely supervising Marvin as he conducts his rituals.

Being caught breathing down his neck and rightfully walked back to let him work.

Jackie is just nervous to whether this will even work.

Or that he might worsen the situation more than it is now.

That changes when Marvin succeeds.

Reactions after he brings you back:

Jackie can’t believe his eyes at first.

But there you were.

Bright eyed and alive.

But… something’s wrong.

Your breathing is fast and you look panicked.

Wait- why are you running?

You can’t leave!

Not now!

Not when he just got you back!

How do you escape?:

Trying to flee into the isolated landscape.

You end up lost and more disoriented than when you woke up.

Having a panic attack when you finally tire out.

How he reacts to your escape:

Using any ability to track you down.

Nothing would stop him from finding you.

And eventually.

He does.

Seeing you distraught causes him to quickly take you into his arms.

Resist him?

Now he’s hurt.

Why did you have this sudden change of heart?

What did Marvin do to you?

He has to practically drag you back to the base.

You weren’t in your right mind.

Even if he has to restrain you, he’s going to break you out of whatever mind control you had to be under.

He excommunicates Marvin and everyone else.

“Don’t be upset! The bad man is gone now-“

Moving you to another country.

Deeply isolating the both of you.

He just can’t find the missing piece to bring you back to him.

But he’d never give up on you.

Everyday he loves you, you know he does.

And he knows somewhere deep inside, you love him back.

One day these effects will wear off and you two will be happily back in each others arms.

He just has to wait.

“Baby I know you’re in there somewhere. I’m nothing if I can’t be your hero… I will wait until the end of time for you to come back to me. I love you (y/n).”

Return to him?

He’s relieved, but nervous why you panicked in the first place.

Maybe you shouldn’t interact with anyone else from now on.

24/7 you have his attention.

On the occasion he needs more supplies, he lovingly locks you in the safest room in your home.

Where nothing can bring you harm.

Don’t worry, he always returns in quick fashion.

Knowing you shouldn’t be left alone for too long.

He’s had to essentially safety proof the entire base.

You will never again encounter anything sharp.

That means all meals are prepared by him.

Everything you do is closely monitored.

You won’t even toss in your sleep without him knowing.

Should you stray into potentially dangerous behavior?

He will make sure to correct and lead you away from it.

Sometimes a little too harshly.

He makes up for it with constant (maybe slightly overbearing) affection.

He loves to love, and will overcorrect if he thinks something he does is lacking.

But all in all he wants is you to be safe, happy and healthy.

“I’m here for you always. Don’t you ever worry about a thing. Ol’ Jackieboy is gonna keep you real safe. There’s nothing to fear when your hero is here.”

Jameson Jackson: controlling yandere

How he finds & feels about (y/n):

A random encounter that turned into regular meetings in a public space.

He was intriguing and you drew his attention.

No one ever wanted to sit with him and take the time to have a proper conversation.

He was mute after all.

But you still wanted to develop a friendship.

He started teaching you sign language.

Wonderful memories were made.

He could listen to your voice for hours.

Your laugh sent him over the edge.

You were the one.

Maybe he could rearrange a few things to get a little closer with you.

Perhaps, you encounter a few unruly individuals to seek his help and comfort.

And maybe your friends and family start avoiding you, for reasons unknown to you.

He pulled some strings to get you fired from your job.

You came crying into his arms, scared you would lose your home.

Over all stressed out of your poor little mind.

He would pick up the pieces for you.

He lets you move in to balance out the lack of income.

He likes the control he has over your life.

And in his home he has the most control.

You were caught in a web he had no intention of letting you escape from.

Everything from how you spoke to him, to how you carried yourself were molded into his ideal version of you.

He saw your true self and was helping you achieve personal perfection.

What happens when you die:

Panic and denial.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He didn’t understand how this could’ve happened.

Nothing fell out of place.

He quickly shook himself out the shocked trance and moved towards a solution.

Would he reach out for help?: 

Only as a last resort.

He’s grown clingy and the others always found him unnerving.

Not to the point of excommunication.

But enough to keep distance.

Eventually though, after many failed attempts, he reaches out to Henrik.

How he would bring you back:

The doctor make quick work in restoring your body.

Excited to practice a new experiment he had in progress

With success you wake.

Reactions after he brings you back:

If he could shout for joy he would.

All he can do is pull you into a tight hug.

Quickly shooing Henrik away, he gets ready to resume his perfect life with you.

How do you escape?:

Dashing out a window while JJ was busy dealing with Henrik.

Of course he immediately knows something went wrong when he returned

Not hearing the slightest movement from the room you were left in.

How he reacts to your escape: 

More panic-

Even more exhausting than the first time.

He just wanted things to go back to normal.

You hadn’t even made it off the property before a cascade of wires and strings halted your escape.

You couldn’t move but you could hear him approaching fast.

Struggle and fight?

He’s disappointed.

He though he taught you better.

Were you faking your affection?

This thought made him more upset.

He needed to make you see things from his perspective.

With his talent of strings he can take control of your body.

Puppeting your limbs to walk,

Conduct daily tasks,

Holding you back from fighting his affection.

You love him.

And he will show you the best way how.

(In sign) “There now (y/n), you see? You are much more suited for this kind of life. Don’t give me that look. I know what’s best and I’m going to make you perfect.”

Relax and let him take you back?

You must’ve simply misunderstood when you woke.

He still doesn’t want you running away again.

Attaching light, nearly invisible wires to your body in order to detect your movements.

So light you wouldn’t feel a thing.

He gently sways and builds you back to living in his perfect life.

Of course, he was going to be more careful.

More aware.

Sectioning off several rooms that hold objects of possible danger.

You never entered the kitchen again.

But that’s fine.

Everything is under control.

His control.

Letting you have enough distractions to miss the intricate processes behind the curtain.

(In sign) “Too many dangerous things out there for you to be toying with. How delicate and sweet you are… life is better when you can stay by my side isn't it?”

Marvin the Magnificent: clingy yandere

How he feels about (y/n):

Love at first sight.

He could feel that you two were meant to be together.

It was practically written in the stars.

He grabs your attention with flashy parlor tricks.

No need to worry about any other pests.

They were all such a bad influence.

And he couldn't stand when you gave your attention to anyone else.

He lured you in with wonder.

Finally showing you some true magic once he has you all to himself.

Sure you didn’t know where you were after that last flash.

You actually didn’t mind.

The sweet incense lacing the air was incredibly relaxing.

He showed you images beyond your wildest fantasies.

And beamed when your eyes sparkled with delight.

A captive audience.

Illusions that weaved into your subconscious.

Whispering to your mind that you were exactly where you needed to be.

That your destiny was with him.

What happens when you die:

Intense panic.

Though he is quick to start looking for a solution.

He frantically flips through pages upon pages in mystic tomes and scattered scrolls.

Trying to find that one spell.

That one incantation that will bring you back.

Would he reach out for help?: 

By all that is and ever will be, no.

The thought might’ve briefly crossed his mind, but was waved as soon as it came.

He is a Master of Magic.

His power is unmatched.

He alone would be enough to bring you back.

How he would bring you back:

Eventually landing on the sought after collection of texts listing castings and provocations… of necromancy.

Using the most rare artifacts and ingredients he could get his hands on.

He starts a multi hour ritual to retrieve your soul from the beyond.

Reactions after he brings you back:

This cast left him exhausted to his core.

Barely able to stand when he is finished.

But with fruitful results.

With a flash in your eyes, you quickly sat up.

Finally awake and lucid.

Too lucid.

His spells and influence had disappeared once you died.

Now you saw the gravity of the situation in front of you and bolted.

Him being too tired to run after, let’s you go.

You won’t get far.

How do you escape?:

You try to run.

After a while of turning random corners and dashing through long halls, you feel like you’ve traveled a far distance.

You stop for a breath.

A bright flash at your feet makes you gasp and the floor softens to consume your legs.

You’re caught up to your thighs when the floor hardens again.

Marvin rounds the corner and closes in.

How he reacts to your escape:

He’s not concerned about where your going, but your state of mind.

This domain bended to his will.

You could be running for hours and he could still pinpoint your location.

So he lets you drain your energy as he regains his.

Catching you once you had tired out.

Fight him?

Not for long.

A dizzying miasma fills the air and causes your body to feel heavy and weak.

He carries you around the corner he appeared from, back to your “home”.

With a drop in your stomach, you realize you were nowhere near freedom.

Your body refuses to move after he places you down on a table.

Silent and stoic, he moves to collect different potions and light several bundles of exotic herbs.

The air grew sweet.

Your mind focused on the alluring aroma as he began reciting a new spell.

One that would lock your mind into his influence for good.

Your own good.

Anything that existed beyond his wonderland is a long forgotten fantasy.

“This is for the best, (y/n). You won’t have to worry anymore. Sleep well, starlight, and be reborn to the life of your dreams.”

Resign to your fate?

He realizes why you fled and takes caution.

Not showing his cards fully.

You both know you can’t escape.

He wont let on that he’s aware of this.

He eases you back to the warmth of your shared home.

Calming you from the adrenaline high with some of your favorite foods.

He performs a small light trick that always delighted you.

You hardly reacted.

No, this wouldn’t do.

He wanted to reawaken the brightness of your soul that attracted him.

To reinvigorate the gravity in your aligned stars.

A slower approach perhaps.

Instead of the immediate stunning performance that brought you to his abode, he drums up a soft consistent rhythm to ease your nerves.

The halls seemed to still catch your wonder, if even a little.

Small distractions lead you away from problematic thought.

A few extra ingredients in your food would help you relax and readjust to everyday living.

His consistent calm, collected demeanor- if not a bit overbearing, did eventually convince you of your safety.

He’s always gentle towards you, after all.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad…

“Will you allow me one lifetime? I always strive to amaze, but I’ve never replicated anything close to your beauty. The show must go on, my startlight, won’t you join me in the encore?”

[omaano]

Wait, hold up, I have to hear more about Boba/Din Vampire AU 👀

“Teeth measuring contest” - is what I should have titled that wip XD

I am this close to talking myself out of 100% committing to this idea even though I spent the whole day cleaning up this sketch and turning it into something not horribly messy and out of the realm of proportion and human anatomy. But it's getting better and better, so I guess… I can indulge a little? Maybe? Maybe 6th time is the charm? 😳😳 (Credit where credit is due tho, I changed my mind on half the elements in this drawing because of @shortmage and their fics’ influence, because I’m a very weak person, and their vampire!Boba fic as well as this one is just too good!)

Also, the rarest of things happened and I’d actually typed up some of my messy thoughts from months back when I just started marinating on the idea of Mandalorian vampires, so I suppose I might as well share them under the cut

Mandalorians as vampires - makes sense for the emphasis of the traditionalists to always keep covered up (especially with the helmet and the chest plate because the head and torso are the important and vulnerable-ish parts for a vampire), to live in secrecy and hiding and possibly even underground. Plus, since it is a trait that can be passed on through a vampire bite the Mandalorian idea of adoption and “children are the future” mentality also checks out, since the vampiric bloodline has gotten diluted over time - hence what the New Mandalorians were, who had it easier to assimilate to the norm of the Republic, and what little vampiric traits they retained with time they could live with under their domes and in their environmentally controlled cities on Mandalore.

That would make Din a very traditionalist vampire (plus the continuous wear of his helmet probably built up and encourages quite the oral fixation on top of that), and as a Beroya he’d have to ensure that the whole covert has enough blood to sustain them (bounty hunting with more focus on the “or dead” part of the assignment). Meanwhile Boba would be also a vampire, but quite a bit loser with his feeding habits and morals (and he has more motivation to keep covered up because of the whole clone thing as opposed to the vampire thing). Jango (not just because he was a foundling, but due to the general diluting effect of /time/) was less of a “true” vampire (though vampire enough, his buir was mand’alor after all, that’s gotta count for something), but he had more than enough of it locked away in his genes for the kamionans to have an absolute field day in cherry picking what traits they found useful to keep in the clones (keep some traits for strength and durability, but turn on them the thrall (in a way) and put them on blood supplements to ensure that they remain under control).

Jedi are also vampires, they just went the early mutation route of the genes, and so they don’t subscribe to the “turning someone into a vampire” idea, but rather look for that innate vampire in future Jedi; which allows for the antagonism between Jedi sorcerers and Mandalorians. Jedi are those weirdos who figured out how to live on black pudding and blood orange and anything that has blood in its name and is red, and whatever life force is in the air - and worst of all they don’t even have the decency to just turn up and die on such a ridiculous diet. They are the equivalent of light eater weirdos, except they are also somehow right. That would make Sith those who's gone bonkers and just drain the life force of every unfortunate sucker in their way (that would kinda explain why inviting Maul into mandalorian business could have seemed like a good idea? Since he was closer to traditionalist mandalorian ideals than whatever the new mandalorians were subscribing to). The grey Jedi would probably then be the smart ones who figured out that blood banks exist. They are the smart cookies who don’t have to rein in their hunger through hours of meditation or whatever yet still get the benefits.

[river-muse]

Wall-of-text comment, coming right up!

Okay I think I forgot to mention this before, but I love the Mundus powerscaling you've settled on, and the story of Vergil running away after dmc3!

I think the dmc3 novel or smth gave fans the impression that a 'rested' dmc3 single twin could have defeated Mundus, which, while truly tragic as so much trouble could have been avoided, I think it's also very underwhelming. I guess you upscaled Mundus even higher than dmc1 Dante (30-smth yo) + DS Sparda? Anyway, I really love this. Mundus is a very dangerous and tangible threat, and it's a great pressure point on the twins to figure out their bullshit faster.

And the story you've come up with for post-dmc3 Vergil is very true to him, or at least, I think it is very true for him. Vergil's been on the run from his issues for the last decade, and the ending of the last twin fight just showed him that...all that growth was still enough. His newly awakened little brother was able to defeat him, then what chance does he stand against Mundus? As painful as it looks, that defeat was be a significant blow to him, and Dante's attempts to help would not be able to remedy that, if anything they would only aggravate Vergil's wounds. So yeah, it makes total sense Vergil ran into the night one after that.

Birthday chapters commentary:

(regarding the notes at the beginning of the chapter - I Am Looking Forward To Seeing Your Older Nero)

My best guess is that Vergil was thinking of his 'hiding' habits and how they affected Nero, so, berating himself in front of his mom, before the beginning of the chapter. Then, Dante mentioning that Eva would be proud of Vergil's parenting (which she would) triggered him and he bolted.

Lemme just quickly say here that the frustration Dante feels when Vergil runs? So. Goddamn. Relatable. To. The. Reader.

Love the twins' strategy of constantly picking Nero up, adorable))) Also love that Nero came up to his uncle for the support there (I am weak for Uncle Dante), be clearly needed some support there to tell his dad. That entire scene is great and I love it. The moment Nero interprets Vergil leaving wrong is small but heartbreaking all the same.

The description of the uncle-nephew nap had me crackling in tears xDDD So accurate too!

The scene of Dante waking up automatically looking for a gun is another sneaky, yet powerful heartbreak. I guess he anticipated something like this before and started keeping his girls away when family visits occur? Also wonder why didn't Nero run and jump full speed on his newly-awakened uncle. Missed opportunity, birthday boy!

Twins almost starting another fight, but wrapping it and tossing it away just as quickly in front of Nero is definitely progress, and another prime example of 'forcing the dogs to lie'. Perfectly in sync, even if their actual opinion on the topic are opposites, and the question before them is in dire need of discussing.

Car space for legs being too short is just. Pure torture. All-too relatable, sadly. Poor bois, they did nothing to deserve this(

Nero&Dante teaming up in 'zebra is a horse' arguement is everything to me. Vergil was laughing at his favourite idiots, no doubt xD

My live reaction at little Nero trying to get Dante involved in zoo activities (follow your own advice for your brother, loser): 😭😭😭

Surprisingly accurate common zoo layout description! Very well done there.

"Lizards are not crying aside- [topic switch]" demons? Was that a Devil May Cry reference? What next, a fic Featuring Dante???

I love every single one animal interaction. Like, you could have easily glassed over those, they don't affect the plot or character interactions between each other. Yet, they are all so detailed and lively, I adore those. It's clear you've had a lot of experience with animals, OR your research is obsessively-crazy good. I bet both.

My live reaction at Nero holding hands with twins: 😭😭😭

"I can't Birthday Boy out of this one" - snorted out loud at this one xDDD I feel like the zebra debate is based on personal experience xD

UNCLE DANTE SHOULDER RIDE UNCLE DANTE SHOULDER RIDE UNCLE DANTE SHOULDER RIDE (Vergil absolutely got jealous, and it was his own fault)

Kyrie is a certified otter lover. Love Vergil's little queue to not bring her up and how quickly Dante adapts to his advice.

The plushie naming scene is precious.

Dante seeing that the gift for Nero is hand-wrapped by a clearly inexperienced Vergil is another sneaky little, but very powerful heartbreak. While Dante would make a truly awesome uncle, I also feel very strongly that he would be jealous of Nero. Dante was never enough for Vergil, but Nero had to just..appear and boom! almost-domesticated Vergil. (this is absolutely Dante's issues speaking and not what actually happened, I can also absolutely see the reverse of this happening - Nero being jealous of Dante's twin-telepathy with his father.

Vergil's little cake admission. OUCH. Bad Dante, you shouldn't deflect your closed-off brother's rare emotional moment, you should encourage those to happen more, Bad Dante, Bad.

Twins pool scene can solve all of reader's mental health problems, guaranteed. Precious. Soul-healing. Very touching.

(why was Vergil shaken after that shoulder pat?...my best guess is touch-starvation, but Nero should have been able to keep that one at bay I think...)

I'm enjoying this reread and note-taking very much)))

I GET TWO IN ONE DAY????? 👀

Ohhh you were CHEWING on this one I can see! For your guess on my knowledge of zoo layouts/animals- I grew up obsessively watching Animal Planet and have been to zoos and aquariums quite a lot before! I LOVE animals even if I don't have the skills/certifications/heart to work closely with them in a professional setting. When I was super little I'd been thinking about pursuing that as a career but set it down because I get way too attached to things. Besides my beloved massive american wirehair cat that roams my house like an overgrown baby I also keep a corn snake I've raised since he was younger than a month old.

Mundus! Yes! I wanted him to be an actual threat that's looming in the background of the narrative because let's be real that guy can create other demons wholesale on a whim and can- well- wait that's spoilers hold on I can't say that 💀 either way I wanted his presence to have actual weight to it rather than just seem like a little speedbump that the twins can take down without issue and have just been avoiding for no reason. He's got his own plans in motion that get hinted at in the narrative but not said outright. He's acting like a persistence predator in that respect. Strategically hunting at random points, cutting off escape routes, and keeping his quarry on edge so their capabilities diminish little by little until they get desperate and tired. :)

I'm not gonna lie I think you even picked up stuff in the narrative I HADN'T PLANNED but it all works so good!!! The case of the writer subconsciously pulling off genius narrative strikes again.

I'm in love with all of this I'm dipping you lowly(platonically) because while I'm going to keep being self-indulgent in this series until it's over it's so exciting to get interactions with it!! I spent a while worried that my method of situational characterization with this divergent AU would be off-putting to anyone else but you're proving me so wrong.

Also yes Older Nero in this AU is going to be fun! I have quite a lot of that content already written or planned. He grows up to have a very similar to canon personality with- a different flavor that you'll see as we progress in the series.

I have a fun question that doesn't need an answer, but is a little extra tidbit to think on because you've made my day:

If the official DMC team said once that Nero wouldn't be who he was without Kyrie- then what do you think Kyrie would be without Nero?

EDIT: No you know what I am NOT DONE TALKING!! I keep dwelling on how you noticed every single moment of action that reveal scars that haven't healed!! The one that still kills me is the description of how Vergil wrapped the gift because if it had been from his perspective we would have just seen him berating himself for not being able to do better but through Dante's eyes we see the MEANING behind the gesture and how significant it is.

Also the zebra argument was by far one of my best things and if I've had that hyper-specific argument before I don't remember but I have FEELINGS about it!

The pool scene. Oh, how soft it makes me feel. Writing it was such a nice breath of fresh air it makes my heart melt and was a sign that with time Vergil can heal and open back up to his family.

[leffee]

Foxy headcanons that are sooo self-serving and completely opposite to how most people potray him and I guess opposite to his "canon" personality (also he's an animatronic here but one that can do human stuff like eating because I said so):

a classic, but of course he has a tail. Long as hell, this thing drags behind him if he doesn't keep it upright. Basically, his tail is as long as he is tall or so. Another headcanon that is obviously not true, but the reason he has no tail in the first game (or any other for that matter) is that he had one, but you saw how torn and worn he is? Well, just like he has holes in his suit, his tail simply fell off due to whatever reason he's like that

speaking of height, he is the shortest of the gang as he should be. Like at least a head shorter. Freddy, Bonnie and Chica on the other hand are all the same height (I have no problem with them being different heights, that's just personally how I always imagined it)

his on stage persona is in complete opposite to his actual personality. That also counts for his entire pirate act along with his pirate talk and accent, that only exists for the performance, as soon as he's finished he talks completely normally (though due to the force of habit sometimes he unconciously sneaks in some pirate talk when he doesn't need to)

so basically his personality is shy and unsure of himself, but can be quite mischevious and playful if he's around someone he knows well, so namely and mainly his fellow animatronic

aside from his pirate stories and occasional other pirate-themed activities, he's available for pets when he's not performing. It's not an official attraction xd it's just something that happens. He's also most fluffy from the animatronics at Freddy's, especially his tail and the top of his head

looong ears, honestly almost as long as Bonnie's, they're a bit wider tthough. By default they stay upright, but they can be droopy too and then they just kinda dangle

really enjoys pizza, will happily eat any left-overs from the guests, could not care less if the slice is already bit, he's eating it. Some kids seeing that, even bring him pieces themselves

loves all his friends dearly. Bonnie is his fellowe introvert, so they often relax together, sometimes just laying next to each other not exchanging words at all, but can also talk for hours. Freddy is his captain, and Foxy is really relieved that they have a sort of leader figure. It's so calming that there is someone, who is not him, that keeps and eye on everyone and everything. Chica, oh boy, she's really affectionate and he, though shy, craves affection, so they can be all over one another. In a way, he's most comfortable with her. He's her little fox, child, brother, and her husband all at once

I am cringe but I am free. This should suffice for now but I have more

[shippergirl-14]

Kyle head canons

These are a little based on the episodes and popular opinions, but I also wanted to share some of my ideas. I guess most of them apply when he is older.

Please feel free to share your own head canons here ^^

He is very responsible, but still lets himself be convinced to join another adventure with his friends.

He was the tallest of his group when they were younger but now Stan is taller than him and regularly teases him about it.

He is the vice student representative and he only applied for the position because Cartman wanted to be in charge. He and Wendy are doing a pretty good job.

He has a habit of sneaking in Stan’s room at night to either sleep by his side or hang out. He regrets sleeping over sometimes since he is a light sleeper and Stan moves too much.

He still plays basketball and is the point guard of his team. He is really good with game strategies and he is the vice captain of the team.

When they were younger they would regularly go ice skating as a group and Kyle still drags Stan with him sometimes.

He is super organized and hard working since he doesn’t want to stay in South Park more than he needed.

Kyle has some kind of academic rivalry with Wendy going on, but they are really good friends. He also hangs out with Bebe, Tweek and Tolkien outside of his group.

His group has often trolled people online while being on a voice call. He is also really good at Mario Cart, but sucks at Super Smash.

He can still play some songs on the guitar, but he learned to play the viola since it’s calming and it looks good on college applications

He is a little germaphobic and likes cleaning in general.

He enjoys gossiping with Bebe and lets her do his hair or his nails when she is bored.

He randomly shaves his head when he loses his patience with it. He hates his curls ( I wrote a whole ass fanfiction about it).

He still really likes fnaf and is invested in the lore, but doesn’t want to play himself since he hates jump scares/ is a little scared. He rather forces Stan to play and he watches. He also enjoys horror movies.

Kyle will annoy his brother when he is bored, but will defend him with everything he has when someone else teases him.

He tends to over work himself.

Also, if I had to add a sexuality head canon I really love the demi aroace + omni ones. I’m aroaco so I’m kinda biased xD

I saw some people hc him as russian or polish because of his last name and someone even said he was German so I would really like your take on this or hear your own head canons.

[dynamic-k]

Me me has a quetions :3 when did you start writing and where do your ideas come from?

-BK

Ooh, that's a tough one.

Hmm. Well, I know I started getting a like for writing in the 3rd grade. I'd done some random school two-paragraph assignment and Mrs. Meusen, my lovely teacher whom I still remember to this day, had returned everyone's papers with our grades.

And she liked to write custom messages along with the overall score and stars.

She told me in her little markered note at the top of my paper, that my writing was well structured and I make a good author. Something like that, I don't remember exactly how it was phrased, but it was a compliment to my writing.

I have no memory of what I wrote, though. It wasn't significant.

That was probably the first jump-start encouragement I got, though how it affected me in the future was probably subconscious for the most part. It's not the driving force that I remember on a regular basis as "Ah, yes, this event here is what started it all."

That long ago compliment just came to mind when I really started thinking about what the answer to your inquiry was.

My ideas just spawned into existence from my imagination. I was always the kid that found immense joy in reading books and also staring off into space. The wall. The ceiling. Out a window.

I once got lost in space during my 2nd grade Spanish class, while we were doing TESTS.

And I was lost in space, not really looking at what I was looking at... Well, I was apparently looking at someone else's test, lol. Got scolded. XD

My dreams were often the source of cool ideas also. I had entire MOVIES worth of action and everything. Sleeping was always a well anticipated privilege...

I wonder why. 👉👈

I remember my very first fanfiction was written for a comic series, Mega Man by Ian Flynn.

Cool robots, action, adventure, fights, suspense, a whole assortment of my favorite types of things to enjoy from any media, be it novel, comic, or movie.

It was... really bad. My family tells me it was good for my age at the time. The ONE friend I randomly decided to share the old google Docs with also gives me positive feedback, but... ehhhhhh.

There's reasons I haven't continued it further for years. It was pretty bad, in my eyes. I definitely had so much fun writing it though. It was a self-insert, sort of? But with an OC that had cool characteristics I just liked. Not really me, but a character that was an amalgamation of ninja skills, smarts, and powers. And was very much, as the term goes [that I would learn about just a few years later], a "Mary Sue". An overpowered character.

At least, my character still had a plethora of issues, and as the story progressed, I found ways to insert Nora [the aforementioned OC] into problems and lessen the overpowered aspects a bit.

I learned from that work. A lot.

I guess, if anyone is really interested, I can post the links to the old docs. I don't suppose I mind all that much, though I'm warning you all. I ATTEMPTED ROMANCE.

AND IF YOU ALL KNOW ME AND MY CURRENT HABITS... YOU KNOW I SAY ON A REGULAR BASIS THAT I CAN'T WRITE ROMANCE.

It was written by 13-year-old Scarlett. She doesn't exist anymore.

I think I somehow got off topic, why am I talking about my first fanfic...

Anyway!

I wrote a lot of other stories also.

I had originals.

I had fanfics. [My hyperfixation on Beyblade Metal Fusion remains dormant to this day, but I still remember all the ideas I never wrote down yet]

I had dreams that I attempted to normalize and remove dream-weirdness from for story material.

I had school assignments that were fairly tame as far as action, but I kept the docs anyway.

And then I tried to publish stuff.

[By this, I mean, on the Archive. I had technically posted fanfiction before on fanfiction.net but we don't talk about those abominations...]

I was in a Lego Monkie Kid hyperfixation at the time, and was currently on the cliffhanger of season 4. [Before the special came out, I mean.]

And I had a very very vivid dream scenario one night, where my brain decided to imagination its own ending and wrapped up plot for the cliffhanger of season 4.

I decided to post it. And I still have more ideas that I have yet to sort out and add more chapters to the fic, but that was the first published work on the Archive, I think.

And... it was romantic focused, actually. The one OC was a character that fit well into the series, and wasn't just an annoying rendition of overpowered characteristics. (I TELL YOU. I LEARNED FROM "NORA")

And, well, my dreams are good at imaginating romantic scenes. It's just my brain doesn't know how to make it sound good with words yet.

I'll get there... 😅

To get back to the point I seem to keep deviating from as I reminisce over older works and my author journey as a whole: I have come very far.

My first Alan Becker fanfic, was A Second's Tale. Which, until Super Sticks appeared, remained my most popular fic.

It started so SO simply. All I knew was, "NEW HYPERFIXATION GO BRRR!" and "I wanna write a fanfic and post it"

Then it escalated.

The AVA/AVM fandom is still my all-time favorite, and I think it's honestly going to stay that way forever. It's definitely the longest fixation I've ever had.

All my others are dormant, or active in spurts. I have a list of like, 60? 65? fandoms I'm into, lol.

Uhm, anyways, yeah.

That's the summary.

Man, that's another thing I suck at. Summarization.

Look at this long schpiel of words!!

No one gonna read this. XD

TL;DR

I have come far from the 3rd grade.

I still aim to make a difference. Make someone's day with my weird unique sense of humor. Make others inspired. ;]

And my imagination go brrrr for ideas. Dreams are just the best thing ever.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk--

[barananduen-blog]

"Sketch with eyes closed Challenge" (but color with eyes open)😂 Jiang Yan Li from "The Untamed"

Putting this here instead of in my art blog bc it's shitposting, but it still makes me smile when I see it, and people might get a laugh out of it too. XD

That earring and the shoulder pattern look like a game of "pin the tail on the donkey." 🤣 At least the hair pin landed kind of in the right place.😂

My 🌸pink blossoms🌸 on the other hand, are a masterpiece. 👌Admit it. 🤣

The eyes-closed sketch. Why was I even doing guide lines?!? I couldn't see them anyway! Force of habit, I guess. 🤣 This was my 3rd try, because most of the sketch landed outside the canvas on my first two tries. 🙈

My rules were that I could "pretty things up" while painting but I couldn't move anything from the sketch.

This was so much fun to do! It might make a good art block breaker.

The reference. I asked my friend to choose someone from cdramas or kpop. She, who's an Untamed fan, volunteered her as tribute.🤓

[ectogeo-rebubbles]

For the WIP ask game: hand

(for this ask game. PLEASE send me more asks guessing words that might appear in my WIPs everyone. <3)

Okay you really hit the jackpot with this one, "hand" shows up in quite a lot of sentences in my wips, and almost all of them are fun even out of context. So here is most instances. Some of them are nsfw. I'll also put some of these below the cut since there's so many. XD

the sloanshir soulmate AU that's really a garashir soulmate AU (but nobody in the fic ever learns that):

He could just barely see a silhouette against the backdrop of stars, a figure seated in his reading chair with hands steepled.

He knocked the phaser out of his hand easily, then grabbed his wrist painfully tightly and forced his arm back in a direction that it didn’t want to go.

And he had to finally push past his fears and tell him how he felt about him. It couldn’t wait any longer, not with the hands of fate tightening around his throat.

unnamed sloanshir wip that I'm realizing is actually ready to post as soon as i think of a title lmfao:

He held up one hand and examined it.

Broken Link garashir:

“I have to be on hand to help Odo, and, besides, I’m not in the habit of sitting out the missions I get assigned to,” he said, slipping into light sarcasm.

Julian draped his arms over Garak’s shoulders, while Garak’s hands dropped to Julian’s waist.

starbase 375 strip poker (apologies that I clearly haven't written most of the smutty parts of this fic yet lmaoooo):

The three of them were all much more interested in sipping at the drinks in their hands, each wishing the next mouthful would bring peace of mind.

A few hands in, Garak collected the pot and then asked what the point of gambling like this even was when the chips were the only thing they might win or lose.

“In my academy days,” Ross said, “when you lost a hand, you’d have to take off an article of clothing.” 

“If we’re going to fight over the details, you changed the rules after you’d already won the hand.”

Even a winning hand could only delay the inevitable.

Sisko steadied him with hands on his lower back.

astral plane sloanshir:

Garak started to protest, but Julian squeezed Garak’s hand and continued.

“Ah, I see.” He kissed Julian’s hand. “I suppose I have no choice but to trust you.”

“You won’t ever truly wake up again, and you’ll only stay alive for as long as Starfleet Intelligence still thinks it’s useful to keep scanning the contents of your mind—but I suppose I could be persuaded to take mercy on you and kill you as soon as we verify your formula for the cure, rather than let them get their hands on you."

“It’s now or never, Sloan,” Julian said, squirting lube into one hand then slathering his cock with it. 

second skin siskarak:

“Yes, yes,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “That was before you put me in a situation where I had to kill someone in self-defense."

Garak guided Sisko’s hand below his waistband and between his legs.

With a gasp and a gush of fluid, Garak’s tapered cock slid out into Sisko’s hand.

Sisko ran his hands slowly up the back of Garak’s thighs, appreciating the texture of his scales.

"debriefing":

Garak knelt in front of him and then painstakingly slowly ran his hands down along the outside of his legs. Julian shivered and suppressed all of the encouraging and inappropriate little noises he wanted to make. When Garak reached his ankles, he rotated his hands around and started slowly sliding them back up.

[hourglass-dreams]

Bruno Madrigal Mental Health/Neurodivergence Headcanons 💚

Disclaimer: yes I know the movie is about generational trauma within Latin American culture and I am taking that into account. But I also know this (like all types of trauma) effect mental health GREATLY. Bruno also shows clear ND traits whether that be Autism, ADHD, etc... And are underrepresented in Latin American communities. If you disagree that is fine! But I never intend to ignore the culture in any way. When it comes to the OCD stuff, please know that I am not trying to depict superstition and the condition as being the same thing. Someone can be superstitious and not have OCD and vise-versa. OCD is a complex condition that can become disruptive to someone’s life while a superstition is a type of belief or practice. 

Another thing is that half of these will get pretty heavy in nature since trauma, OCD, depression, etc... Are real issues meant to be taken seriously. I will refrain from sharing headcanons that discuss more triggering subject matter ❤️

Alright here we go. 💚 I'll start with the I guess, lighter ones?

I cannot remember who had this first one originally but I loved it. It's basically an idea where Bruno likes tight hugs and deep pressure. So whenever he’s around people and feels overwhelmed his sisters will hug him really tight to ground him. (Over the years they’ve gotten better at recognzing his behavoiral changes since he has a hard time communicating when he’s experiencing overload or severe anxiety, even Alma has begun doing this) And of course he’ll only let specific people hug him like that. In the rare occasion that he isn’t around them in the village, he’ll either run back home or of course have his rats with him. His rats are wonderful comfort animals. Credit to the person who came up with the deep pressure idea!

Along with the deep pressure theme, Mirabel had this idea for a “cuddle blanket” (or, a weighted blanket) for Bruno. So, the grandkids banded together to help her make it, adding in something special from each of them. Isabela grew Lamb’s Ear and Mullien leaves on the outside of it to give it differing textures (those leaves are EXTREMELY soft, it’s insane). There also little pockets on the sides for his rats to climb in. 

When the triplets were children, Bruno would write little messages in wet sand when he couldn’t verbalize what he needed. Pepa started doing this too when she’d give someone the silent treatment XD. 

This is probably surprising to no one but Bruno has a drawer full of salt containers. 

When Bruno returned, he still felt like an intruder so he would just stay in his tower. His sisters or Mirabel had to practically beg him to get out and be with the family.

He always had a fascination with hourglasses even before he got his gift, when he got his tower it came with a random array of hourglasses, one in particular would detect how much time was left until a certain prophecy was fufilled.

When the triples were younger, Bruno had a habit of tapping on of his sisters’ arm. It didn’t always mean he was nervous, it was just a soothing thing. He still does it occasionally. 

Still to do this day, Bruno will occasionally bury himself in the sand of his tower. 

Bruno either makes too much eye contact, or none at all. Literally, the “seeing your dreams” thing derived from him unknowingly staring at someone.

Bruno’s knowledge of theatre allowed him bond a lot with Camilo, and make him WAY less scared of him.

Sometimes in visions, Bruno will watch movies or plays that haven’t even happened yet and unintentionally spoil the details because he gets so excited. 😂

Sometimes on really bad depression days, the grandkids will play out telenovelas for him so he doesn’t have to get up and force any energy. 

Speaking of depression, since Pepa knows how deep and debilitating emotions can get, she tries her best to get Bruno to vent his feelings (When you know.. he wants to and is willing). This has been a great way to rekindle their sibling relationship, and Julieta, being the nurturer that she is, she does whatever she can to comfort them. There were times where all them have started crying. 

Alma has the hardest time communicating so sometimes she will just go into Bruno’s room just to be there to let him know that she cares about him. 

Bruno adopted some mannerisms that resemble his rats 🐀

Alright, now for the more agnsty ones.

Bruno absolutely despises crowds, before he left, riots would ensue around him made up of angry villagers and he would just shut down, unable to react. To try and distract them, Isabela would swing around on her vine and grow vibrant flowers. Being just a young child, she said she didn’t mind doing it but Bruno hated for her to even be around when it happened, along with any of the other grandkids. They were all too young to witness angry mobs, and he didn’t know how to handle them at all. 

There have been times where Bruno will be up all night sprinkling salt between the tiles of Casita and knocking on door frames. 

Okay so you know how I said he has a collection of hourglasses? Yeah well one day after having an argument with Alma over the townspeople and his gift, he broke one of those hourglasses in anger. What makes matters worse is that it was the large one tied to his power. Luckily, it gradually repaired itself. 

In the first few years of Bruno having his gift, he would cry whenever he had visions because he would have a really hard time processing everything that was going on, like the sights, sounds, bodily sensations, etc.. It was a lot to handle sensory wise, on top of him being a child. 

On the topic of his visions being overwhelming, there were times where Bruno would cause himself to bleed from scratching his eyes so hard, luckily he hasn’t blinded himself (well... yet any way).

Sadly there are things Julieta’s food can’t heal, like Bruno’s vision headaches and the recurring bruises on his knuckles. 

Bruno has a really bad habit of hitting himself in the head and puling his hair. His rats are fortunately able to prevent him from doing this by distracting him. 

Bruno has a very vague idea of what he looks like because of his eisoptrophobia (or spectrophobia, fear of mirrors). He only knows from Camilo or distorted reflections in glass or porcelian. His family has been trying to help ease his anxiety with gradual success. 

There are times where Bruno will be so disoriented from a vision or dream he had that he will have severe derealization for a few days. (A state of feeling detached from yourself and or your surroundings or feeling like things aren’t real). 

After Pedro died, Alma became hypervigilant and grew more superstitious for a few years, so she often blames herself for Bruno’s ecessive superstitiousness and anxiety. (She blames herself for so many things...)

I might add to this?? Idk <3

[starwrittenfates]

🚢

🐝  *  ―  𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

OOC ;; I'm going to take a wild guess here and say this is directed towards Syanna with her in mind ;)

do i ship our characters together?: YES | no | not yet but maybe soon

would i like to ship with you?: YES | maybe, i'm willing to try | no

type of relationship i could see: childhood or high school sweethearts | exes | engaged | married (idk, but possibly with this one?) | long-term relationship | crushes | unrequited love | fling | long distance | online relationship | just dating | new relationship | toxic lovers | friends with benefits

tropes i'd enjoy writing for them: friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | exes to lovers | fake relationship / dating | forbidden love | grumpy and sunshine | star-crossed lovers | surprise pregnancy | second chance | soulmates | amnesia / mistaken identity | forced proximity | secret relationship | slow burn relationship

would i rather plot first or jump right in and see where it goes?: develop their relationship first (which in our book, it looks like it's already happening, at least from Syanna's end XD) | jump right in | something in between ( what specifically? )

what now?: let's plot something | send me shippy memes | i'll send you shippy memes | write me a random starter | i'll write you a random starter

anything else i want you to know about me / my character / my shipping habits: I'm cool with shipping. Because of our on-going thread between Syanna and Eskel and their similarities/things they have in common--- especially with their histories concerning the Black Sun--- I could see them possibly becoming a couple down the line. At least once they deal with Stregobor (not to mention, it would be the first healthy and genuine romantic relationship Syanna has ever had. I think it would also help her heal more, finding someone who understands what it's like to go through all she has instead of judging her and to help her move into the right direction. I think Eskel's experience with Deidre could add to that.)

Eskel isn't one for settling down. He's going to keep on the path and being a Witcher, and Syanna isn't one for staying quiet herself, even if she was raised a noblewoman, so I could see it working in a way. If anything, she might want to remain at his side, but it would be pretty funny to watch everyone react to their relationship (like Geralt and especially Anna Henrietta) if/when it does happen.

[iizuumi]

Awww the warmup sketch is so cute. ;; eepy babies. They're so sort I'm crying lol. I'm also curious what does your warmup time consist of? I have a bad habit of just, not warming up when I draw lol so I'm curious xD. <- Narureno anon

Thank youuu I love putting them through it ;; I have left them in peace for long enough i must make them a little miserable so they can comfort each other 🥺 I also dont always warmup lmao depends on the day. It depends on what i do honestly if i just do a bunch of shapes and lines i usually do 15 minutes but if i actually try and sketch something i give myself 30! I guess i wouldn't even necessarily consider this kinda stuff warmup. it's more trying to practice to draw fast?? Because I'm sooo slow so sometimes I give myself a time limit with little sketches to force myself to go fast and not overthink!! c: