#monstrously large posts

[eleemosynecdoche]

Okay. Oil fire serious posting, huh? Now my friend @rlyehtaxidermist is a patient, forbearing soul, and I've been known to get a little hot under the collar at times. The language may get spicy. You have been warned.

Anyways, there are people apparently trying to do some kind of shipping war over this interpretation of Touhou 19 and of Sanae and Tsukasa. They level three basic charges- that there's no support for it, that it's a shallow sex ship, and that Tsukasa is obviously manipulating Sanae. Let's take it from the top.

1. No Evidence, Not Canon

Well, I could go and take screenshots and get the Japanese text and screenies of confirmed "sex isn't real in Touhou" people trying to puzzle out the parts of the Japanese text where Sanae and Tsukasa use very familiar language with each other. But I won't.

Why does it matter? Like, take it as a given that this is the case, that this ship is created from nothing. What would that mean? That people need to stop talking about it? Or restrict their posting about it to some kind of space for non-canon shipping? Is that reasonable?

Look, shipping characters on the basis of them being in adjacent stages has a history in Touhou. Some of them, like Parsee/Yuugi, got ZUN offering some support for it much later, through indirect means. Others, like Nitori/Hina, are kind of unpopular nowadays. People still make art and comics and doujin novels for those unpopular ships based on proximity. And why shouldn't they?

Some of my favorite doujin works- Ōkawa Bkub's "Charm" series, ALISON Airlines's drug-themed and mind-expanding works, Komaku Jūshoku's Ran-chama shorts- are far outside the boundaries of what ZUN produces. I think it's good that people take what ZUN puts down and run with it. I think that's a much healthier way to creatively engage with an artistic work you enjoy. It also gave us Higurashi When They Cry, Umineko When They Cry, Undertale and Deltarune, and other independent works where the influence isn't quite as obvious.

Anyways, all that freedom brings with it people being allowed to ship in ways you think aren't canonically supported, as part of being able to creatively reinterpret the work they're engaging with.

2. It's A Shallow Sex Ship!

Now let's be fucking clear here- what people are implying by this is pretty clearly "You're using this shipping to get off!"

Look. Do you really think that people are likely to be getting off to the idea of sex that's unglamorous and kinda mediocre, a bit awkward? If there is some kind of fetishist of that kind posting about SanaKasa, I'll buy them a drink to salute their extremely broad and abstract sexuality, which would be quite rare indeed.

I'm being mean. The more likely thought process here is that social assumptions around whether anyone would use direct and somewhat crude language about weird sex without being aroused at that moment or being some kind of perpetually-horny sex pervert are shaping how people react to seeing posts where a foxgirl's tail is used as a proxy for her having an erection.

So set that aside. I'm gonna talk about why the sex posts are meaningful to me personally.

I'm not an old hand of Touhou fandom, I came to it as a grown adult with the period between Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom and Hidden Star in Four Seasons as my entry point. But what I learned very quickly is that there's a lot of Touhou stuff, posting, art, comics, fanfics, where people offer up sexual content that I find deeply unappealing (mostly because it's dull, het, and not infrequently invokes sexual violence). And then, eventually, I realized that there was a kind of reaction to this state of affairs.

This was the sense that Touhou fandom was divided into bad sexual stuff and good desexualized stuff. And sexual stuff from a lesbian or WLW perspective was lumped in as part of the bad, with an assumption it was made for men too. And so if you wanted to enjoy the lesbian overtones of Touhou, the Touhous better not be having sex!

This is in turn correlated, I think, with the sense of Touhou as the whimsical side of the "cute girls having tea parties" media metaconcept. All of this ties really heavily into a broader social understanding of sexual desires between women, between nonbinary people, (or even between men much of the time) as intrinsically predatory and needing to be desexualized to be acceptable.

But Touhou isn't a series about cute girls doing cute things at tea parties in the text. In the games, it's a bunch of rude women threatening each other with violence in erudite ways, then engaging in elegant examples of that violence, and finally going drinking together. There's intrinsic sexual tension to all of that. It's people flirting with each other, showing off their stuff, and then getting to know each other at a bar.

Touhou's gotten more explicit about the sexual side of things. Tsukasa, who's drawn with what are instantly recognizable as sexually charged expressions, lidded eyes and insouciant gestures, whose outfit loosely resembles both short pajamas and a romper dress with the skirt cut away to show off the built-in bloomers, is a noteworthy chunk of that, and then she gets treated both in the fandom and in UDoaLG by powerful beast youkai as, essentially, a born slut.

But the sexual aspects have been there since Perfect Cherry Blossom at the latest. The implicit flirtatiousness, the women with extremely close relationships. So what talking about Tsukasa having bad sex and falling in love means to me is a couple of things- it's an acknowledgement that sex is going on. It's also a way to engage with Tsukasa as a character who's engaged in what is only barely subtextually survival sex work, and offer up the possibility of love in a very normal and unglamorous sense, for Tsukasa to be sexual and yet loved and fully worthy of love.

Making them both transfem or transfeminine-coded (i.e. Tsukasa probably didn't transition, but her penis is still effectively a trans woman's rather than that of a cis woman who shapeshifted in terms of how characters understand her position and body) is in turn an extension of that, of how trans women's bodies are fetishized (especially in sex work). And taking these bodies we, as a group of people, have, and treating them as sexual, but in a more naturalistic way yet playful way. And so for me it's just a matter of being truthful- this is describing the situation in terms of the world as I know it, within certain specific boundaries of Touhou I like to use.

This humongous nerd can have a loving, fulfilling relationship while not being good at sex and having to figure that out. This poor little kon kon can be loved without it being transactional, without having to try and become purified and sweet and "More tea, Miss Sanae?" Even bad girls (in several senses) can love and be loved. If you're gay enough with your cringe girlfriend, a miracle will happen.

All of this is of course my hyperprecise sexual fetish. Every last word of it.

3. All According To Tsukasa's Keikaku

"Tsukasa's just manipulating Sanae!"

Why is it important that Tsukasa be an undefeatable schemer and manipulator?

Let me put it this way. If Tsukasa can manipulate everyone equally well because everyone has weaknesses in their heart or whatever, that's blandly cynical. It makes her out to be some kind of overwhelming malevolence. If Tsukasa is really really good at manipulating powerful, perceptive, and forceful women, but completely unable to affect naive, slightly gullible, says exactly what she's thinking Sanae beyond marginally? That's funny! The one person that should be a cream puff to manipulate is beyond manipulation!

It's thematic! Someone who's open and honest and not trying to manipulate other people can't be manipulated in turn, because she's rejecting the game. It's relevant to Tsukasa's character! UDoaLG makes it clear that tube foxes are despised, that they're seen as weak and unable to fight like real women do. Tsukasa has to manipulate people because it's her only way to keep from being crushed, or so she thinks, because she's immersed in that reality.

Sanae isn't manipulatable, but also doesn't really try to crush her. Sanae offers a relationship between equals, even if they have different power levels.

It even plays into neurodivergence and mental illness- think of Tsukasa as someone unsure if she's manipulating people or not. Sanae being autistic and not manipulatable provides a reassurance that she's capable of doing better.

None of which means she's going to start being a saint or even a decent person, just that she's an awful person whose awfulness is hard to separate from her situation, but she can be in a better situation without having to become good first. She can stay malicious and kinda sucky and we know she's doing it on purpose now! We can say, "you are yucky disgusting, babygirl" and squeeze her into a Pringles tube without guilt. With minimal guilt.

Also, abilities are self-declared and Tsukasa's method of manipulating the other polycule members in Unconnected Marketeers mostly seemed to be encouraging them to do what they wanted to do already. Similarly, she can manipulate Aun in UDoaLG by playing on Aun's desire to be helpful and the dangers of the situation, but Aun also knows it's safe because her other body is back at the shrine. She's not, frankly, massively strong. In demonstrated "power levels" she's a step below Yachie "failgirl" Kicchou. Think about that.

Made it all the way to the end? Congratulations! Imagine a Touhou ending slide where I'm (whatever you think I look like) holding up Tsukasa and Sanae sock puppets.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — EIJIROU KIRISHIMA. ribbons, restraint and resolve.

about. eijirou kirishima loves to be tied up and restrained in the bedroom but not for the reasons you may think.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, bondage, ribbon as a restraint, slight!dom / sub dynamics, edging, begging, orgasm control, kirishima is slightly mean, pro hero!kirishima, fem!reader.

kirishima who likes to be tied up. even though you both know that he’s big enough and strong enough to break through any type of restraint that you own. he likes the restriction, likes how you use him all for yourself, likes how you get too tired too quickly and start to cry out for him to move or fuck up into you.

kirishima who gets a little mean when he’s all tied up, faux pouting up at you — his voice a little higher, mocking you, while you whimper and plead. “ah, ah, ah sweetheart,” he sucks his teeth coyly, fighting a smile, his wrists pretending to struggle against the bed posts and red ribbon. “you said you wanted to have your fun with me. isn’t this fun?”

“n-no!” you cry out; punished by the twitch of eijiro’s cock against your silky, arousal lined walls. “please move eiji, please. i-i’ll untie you, i’ll say i’m sorry. just, please—“

leaning forward, kirishima’s arms bulge as they flex against his silken restraints. golden skin stretches over the muscle, blue veins prominent beneath the surface as he tilts his head up to kiss you. it’s slow, calculated and cunning — the kiss is. one that eijirou knows will only rile you up and make you weak in the knees.

it’s the type of kiss that shrouds your brain in darkness and consumes your every thought until all you can think about is your primal desire to please him.

it’s made obvious in the way your tight hole oozes a honeyed nectar down your boyfriend’s monstrously thick cock. if you tried hard enough, moved your hips a little more, you could get his sticky cockhead to press down on the perfect spot to make you cum and lose all ties to sanity.

but you can’t, not without red riot’s help.

“i thought you wanted to be in control?” eijirou teases, his tongue pressing up against the backs of his pearly white teeth as he smirks up at you. sinister. “you don’t want that, don’t want me to flip you over, take charge from you. you were having so much fun.”

the condescending lilt to his voice sends a shiver down your spine and the urge to circle your hips straight to your foggy little brain “b-but i don’t! ‘m not… eiji,” comes your desperate, needy little gasp. it’s not enough to have him inside of you, to force yourself up and down his creamy shaft to your heart’s content. you need eijirou to fuck you in that way he likes, deep and hard until you can feel him in your throat and see stars behind your fluttering eyelids. “i can’t… i can’t cum without you. please, eiji.”

his poor little baby, all this begging. is he supposed to feel sorry for you? you’re the one who wanted this. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the thrill of using the pro hero how you wanted, riding him until his chest was heaving and flushed. you enjoy torturing yourself on eijirou’s cock just as much as he likes seeing you suffer above him — keeping you right on the edge while he lays almost useless beneath you.

when all he really has to do is move his hips.

and that’s why he loves it. the pathetic mess you’ve become. the pathetic way in which you’ve worked yourself up by having your way with him when really eijirou kirishima has been the one in control all along. he set you up to feel oh so powerful with the mountainous red riot tied to your bed. but what’s even worse is the fact that your body knows it can’t get off without him, without his large hands guiding your hips and whilst his own (much stronger ones) pound at your tight, sluice pussy.

“too bad,” the redhead tuts in amusement, settling back amongst the pillows — his strong wrists firmly planted against the bed posts, somehow looking dainty with the red ribbon that ‘keeps’ them there. “get back to work, sweetheart. come unwrap your present.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[veryconnoisseurcherryblossom]

Predaking x Reader - Breeding.

(First time writing valveplug ever, please let me know if I got anything wrong/where I can improve. I also cross-posted on Ao3. Thanks!)

--------

“Mnngah… Pr-Predaking…” You moaned helplessly beneath the behemoth that was your Conjunx, your mate. You hear him growl into your audials, but you can barely focus on anything but his large, primary spike thrusting into you, all but piercing your gestational forge. His smaller, secondary spike rubs against your anterior node and belly with each thrust, the combined feeling of both drawing out desperate, whiny gasps.

“M-more, please more…!”

He chuckles above you, a warm ex-vent washing over your back. The room is almost unbearably hot, each vent you take barely doing anything to cool down your frame. In your internal HUD you see a warning about overheating, but you ignore it, turning off the warning system.

“Such a greedy little mate you are… Who am I to deny you?” Predaking begins to pick up speed, his thrusts becoming harder. You gasp and groan into the pillow, your tears soaking the plush cushion. Groans turn into squeals as your royal lover shifts your hips, changing your position ever so slightly, yet the ridges of his spike rub against your valve sensors in such a way that the renewed stimulation brings you closer to crashing, falling into euphoria.

“Predaking! Oh, oh Primus I’m- I’m going to-”

“Overload for me, my queen.”

Your scream reverberates around the cave, your frame shaking as you feel your calipers work feverishly on Predaking’s spike, all but trying to milk him of his transfluid. Not a moment later does he overload, spilling his seed deep inside of you and coating your chassis from his secondary spike. You shake in the berth, tired, sore, but oh so full.

Whimpering as he pulls himself out of you, you hear and feel him hum in approval, satisfied at the sight of your overfilled, puffy valve spilling his transfluid onto your berth. You can feel it leak down your tibulem, burning hot against your overheated frame.

“You will make a fine carrier, my queen.”

You sigh, content as you fall onto your side and roll onto your back. You tiredly bring your arms up, welcoming him for a hug with a near-delirious smile. He obliges without a word, wrapping his monstrously large arms around you and capturing your lips with his own, drawing you into a slow, lazy, loving kiss.

Pulling away, you look at Predaking with a bashful smile.

“One more time…? Just to make sure I’m sparked…” Predaking smirks, a rumbling chuckle emerging from him. His golden optics glow as he lines his spike up against your valve, drawing a mewl out of your vocal components as you feel his claw circle your over-stimmed anterior node.

“What a greedy little mate you are...”

[candycandy00]

The Offering - A Sukuna x Reader Fic Part 1

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a human man, albeit a monstrously cruel and powerful one. Villages across the land worshipped him as a living deity. One such village holds a festival for seven nights in his honor every year, and on each night they make generous offerings to him, including women who are never seen again. On the fifth night, you are selected to be the offering.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Any feedback whatsoever is greatly loved! If you’d like to be tagged when I post another part, comment to let me know. You must have your age in your bio or pinned post and be 18+ to be tagged.

Smut. 18+. Sukuna is a human (my theory is that he got his four-armed body by modifying himself with jujutsu fuckery later in life). Dubcon. Mentions of rape that happened “off screen”. Very rough sex. Blood. Sukuna just generally being a sadistic monster. F!Reader.

Your forehead touched the ground, your entire body bent to bow as low as possible as the honored guest of the festival passed by. You didn’t dare look up at him. You’d heard stories of villagers being instantly beheaded by invisible blades for such an offense. 

Even when he was gone, climbing up the steps to the shrine your people had built for him several years ago, you kept your head pressed to the ground. There you and all the other villagers remained until someone announced that Lord Sukuna, your village’s living deity, had gone inside the shrine. 

Every year your village held a festival in Lord Sukuna’s honor. It was a week long affair, and each night generous offerings were left at the shrine’s doors for him to partake of. Sumptuous fruits, tender cooked meats, fragrant oils, delicate trinkets made of precious metals, sake of various types, and of course, beautiful women. 

Lord Sukuna remained inside the shrine for the entire seven days and nights, then left until the next year, when the process began again. The women offered to him were never seen again. 

On the fifth day, you were helping your mother prepare a basket of fruit for an offering. There were juicy pomegranates, glossy apples, and ripe peaches. They smelled heavenly, and you smiled as you arranged them to look as beautiful as possible. 

A sudden voice at the entrance to your home caught your attention, a man speaking to your father. “Please try to stay calm,” the man was saying, “but your daughter has been selected to be tonight’s offering.”

Your mother wailed beside you, clutching you in her arms as if she could keep you from being taken. Your father turned to look at you with an anguished expression. You yourself simply felt numb. A part of you knew this could happen. You were of age, unmarried, and had been told you were pleasing to look at. It was only a matter of time, really. 

So you stood in your home, your sobbing mother still holding you, as three shrine maidens walked in. They were quiet, older women dressed in white robes with downcast faces. They bowed to your parents, as if thanking them for their involuntary sacrifice, then took you by the hands. One of them helped your father pry your mother’s arms away from you as the other two led you outside. You didn’t even have time to say goodbye to your parents. 

You went with the shrine maidens willingly. To struggle or resist would mean death for you and your family, and then another girl would be in your place, being pulled out of her home while her parents cried. It would happen to someone regardless tomorrow night, but at least this would spare one family the misery. 

The shrine maidens took you to a small temple that sat at the base of Sukuna’s shrine. There they removed your simple garments and had you step into a large, warm bath. Floating in the water were near countless cherry blossoms, giving the entire room a sweet fragrance. You looked at the pretty pink flowers and, upon realizing this was the last time you would see them, began to cry. 

One of the women came closer and rubbed your shoulder in a comforting manner. You looked up at her in surprise. The shrine maidens were normally quite stoic, keeping to themselves, maintaining Sukuna’s shrine between festivals, and helping to prepare offerings and see to the Lord’s needs while he was there. From your understanding, they were the only people besides the village elders who were allowed to have any contact with Lord Sukuna at all. 

“Try to keep your head down,” the shrine maiden whispered, “and don’t look at Lord Sukuna until he tells you to. In fact, don’t do anything until he tells you to. Try to please him in whatever way he asks.”

You wiped your tears with your hands and looked at her sadly. “Does it even matter? Has any woman pleased him enough to survive?”

The shrine maiden’s grip on your shoulder became slightly more firm. “It does matter! If you please him, he might give you a quick death. We’ve been forced to clean up the remains of many women who displeased him. Believe me, you don’t want to be among their number. There are far worse fates than being beheaded.”

You shivered at her warning, but decided on the spot to follow her advice. Although the shrine maidens had remained silent about what happened to the other offered women, only confirming their deaths, rumors had drifted among the village for years. Stories of women being skinned alive, having their eyes ripped out of their sockets, having every bone in their bodies broken and their mangled limbs twisted into nightmarish shapes. You’d always hoped they were merely stories made up by the more morbidly curious villagers. 

You composed yourself and then asked the older woman a question. “What is he like?”

The woman glanced back at the other shrine maidens who were preparing a garment for you to wear, then said in a low voice, “Lord Sukuna is cruel. He has no mercy for anyone. He is a monster.”

You felt your heart sink. You would be taken by this man tonight, and you’d never even laid eyes upon him. 

When the bath was finished, you stepped out and were dried off by the women. They then dressed you in an extremely thin white robe. It was so thin that you were certain anyone could see right through it, making you feel embarrassed at the thought of walking into the shrine this way. Then you reminded yourself that he would probably rip it from your body anyway. 

They lightly painted your face and combed out your hair, leaving it unadorned. Then they opened the doors and motioned for you to follow. 

As you climbed the steps to the shrine, the shrine maiden who had spoken to you before gave you instructions. 

“When you enter, keep your eyes down toward the floor. Lord Sukuna will be seated on a dais before you, but you must not look up at him until you are given permission. Once you reach the dais, bow down as low as possible and remain that way until commanded otherwise.”

Your heart was pounding as you neared the end of the stone steps, and the end of your life. You stopped in front of the doors and took several deep breaths to try and steady yourself, then you lowered your gaze to the space in front of your bare feet as the women opened the shrine. 

You could feel his eyes upon you from the moment you stepped inside. The shrine maidens did not accompany you, and closed the doors behind you, leaving you to your fate. You slowly walked forward, keeping your eyes down, feeling a terrifying sense of pressure emanating from the dais that was supposed to be in front of you. 

The walk toward the dais was nerve wracking. You didn’t know how close or far it was, and you felt naked in the sheer robe, your cheeks no doubt burning red at the thought of this man staring at you. 

When you saw the edge of the dais come into view, you stopped and immediately knelt down, pressing your face to the floor as you always did with the other villagers every year. Then you waited. 

For several minutes, you heard nothing. No breathing, no movement. Then a smooth, deep voice said, “You may look up now.”

You shuddered, then worked up the courage to raise your head slightly while maintaining a posture of submission. When you did, your vision was suddenly full of the man your village worshipped, the dreaded monster called Sukuna. 

He was a man, not a beast, and you were shocked by how handsome he was. He sat not on his chair but across it, one leg drawn up at his side and the other hanging down, in a surprisingly casual pose. He wore white robes, the front open to his waist to reveal a muscular torso that drew your eye. 

His face was lined with strange tattoos, and in his eyes there was an intensity that nearly took your breath away. You remained perfectly still even as your heart thundered in your chest. You didn’t know what was happening, why you suddenly felt drawn to this man. You could feel the danger, you had the sense that he would rip you to shreds without a second thought, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Something about the terror he provoked also excited you. With a spike of alarm, you realized you wanted to touch him. 

When he spoke again, his voice had a silky texture that made you feel weak. 

“There are three types of women who end up here,” he began, looking down at you as if you were an insect he was about to stomp on. “There are those foolish enough to think they can seduce me. They feign love, and I let them live in their delusions, right up until I take them to my bed. The delusions shatter pretty quickly then.”

His lips curved up into a fiendish smirk, and you were left wondering what terrible things he did to those women in his bed. 

“Then there are the pathetic ones who cry and beg for mercy from the start” he went on. “Unfortunately this is the most common type. I have my way with them and then utterly destroy them. It’s what they deserve for boring me.”

Were these the women who displeased him? The ones who received the most brutal deaths? The cruelty of it stunned you, that the weakest and most frightened women were given the most horrific fates. 

“The last type is my favorite,” he said with a haunting grin, “the ones who fight and scream and claw. These provide me with the most amusement, but sadly are the most rare. It’s hilarious, you see, to watch them slowly realize they never had a chance in the first place. I enjoy breaking their bodies and their spirits. And to reward them for the entertainment, I have them on my plate after having them in my bed.”

Your eyes widened as his words sank in. Plate? Meaning he ate them? He kept grinning, perhaps guessing what you were thinking. You felt a wave of nausea hit your stomach, but you kept your breakfast from coming back up through sheer force of will. 

“I wonder what type you are,” he said, his red eyes boring into you, his unusually sharp teeth bared in his smile. “Try not to disappoint me.”

He stood up then, and his height was imposing, even more so because you were still kneeling on the floor. 

You kept your expression blank, but your mind was racing. What type were you? None of the three he described matched how you felt. You had initially resigned yourself to your fate, and had planned to simply be quiet and obedient until he tired of you and killed you. But now that you were in his overwhelming presence, you couldn’t suppress the thrill you felt, the animal-like attraction to this brutal yet beautiful man. 

The rational part of your brain was filled with terror and dread. Lord Sukuna was going to do indescribably awful things to you this night, then murder you and discard you as if you were nothing. But a bizarre little piece of your brain, one you’d never realized was there before now, was growing more excited by the moment. 

“Stand,” he commanded, and you hurriedly got to your feet. You felt your face burning again when his eyes roamed over your barely concealed body. He turned and walked toward the back of the shrine, looking over his shoulder at you to say, “Follow.”  

You obeyed, walking after him, careful to remain several steps behind. You soon came to a room marked off by sheer curtains, which Lord Sukuna pulled back to reveal the most lavish, ornate bed you had ever seen. Unlike the thin futon you were used to, this bed was thick and elevated off the floor. There were silk pillows and a satin-lined blanket, and the fabrics had apparently been perfumed, as they carried a heady, floral scent. 

When Sukuna reached the bed, he stood beside it and turned to face you. “Remove your robe,” he said in his rich voice. 

You nearly buckled right then and there. The fear and shame were mixing with arousal, and you thought you might collapse. With shaking fingers, you untied the thin sash around your waist. Then, with Sukuna watching intently, you opened the robe and slipped it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. 

You’d never been bare in front of a man before, and it felt as if your skin burned wherever his gaze fell as his eyes moved up and down your form. 

He stepped closer and looked down at you, into your eyes. Did he see the turmoil inside you? The raging war between horror and lust? 

His hands fell upon your trembling shoulders, and his touch felt electric. Finally, his hands on your skin! But then he jerked your body around so that you faced away from him, and those hands roughly explored your exposed flesh. One of them squeezed your right breast while the other moved down to grope between your legs. You gasped at the sensations, at being touched in this way for the first time, at the realization that you didn’t hate it even though his touch was harsh. 

One of his fingers slipped into your folds, and  your breath hitched in your throat as he grazed over a particularly sensitive spot. You felt him pause, both hands going still, and then he suddenly turned you back around to face him. He seemed to study your face for a moment, and then a smirk spread across his features. 

All at once you were thrown onto the bed, your little cry of surprise ignored as Lord Sukuna slowly climbed on top of you. His hands were upon you again, grabbing and kneading the soft, plush areas of your body, his grip strong and bruising. He moved down, then pushed your knees up toward your chest, opening your thighs obscenely wide apart. 

There was a strange look in his eyes as he gazed down at your most private place, and again that smirk. He bent down, his face getting so close to your body that you could feel his breath. You couldn’t help blushing at the closeness, and then you felt something warm and wet glide up your slit. When you looked down, his tongue was extended from his mouth, a string of clear fluid attaching it to your body. 

A shudder rippled through you as he dove back in, this time pressing his tongue in between the folds of flesh to lick your swollen and sensitive clit. “Ah… ahh!” The small quick moans escaped your lips before you could stop them, and you felt a stab of fear when Sukuna looked up at your face. You were told not to do anything without his permission, so you had refrained from speaking. You didn’t want to displease him in any way, so you were trying to be completely silent. But when his tongue returned to your clit, circling it and then pressing into the top corner, even more moans came out. 

Lord Sukuna continued until your body stiffened, your hands gripping the silken sheets as pleasure shot through you and one last, long moan broke free. He pulled away from you and looked down, watching you pant as you started to drop your tired legs back down. He grabbed them before they could straighten and touch the bed, pressing your knees back up. 

You looked at him just as he opened his own robe, revealing the same pattern of black tattoos all over his body. It was a strangely alluring sight, but your eyes were quickly drawn to the very large and imposing organ between his legs. It stood stiff and ready, and you knew what was about to happen. 

Sukuna looked you in the eyes as he shoved himself inside you, so deep and so hard that you could only describe the motion as violent. He didn’t give you even a moment to adjust before he was thrusting viciously into you. It hurt, and even as naive as you were, you understood that he wanted it to hurt. He was clearly being as rough as he possibly could without literally tearing you apart, and tears stung your eyes as you bit back a scream, using one hand to cover your own mouth. 

Sukuna pulled your hand away from your face, then leaned down close and spoke into your ear, a whisper that that sent shivers through you despite the pain you were in, “Cry for me. I’ll allow it. Let me hear your voice.”

Hearing that, you let out a cry of pain before beginning to sob. You looked up him with wet eyes and found him grinning, enjoying your suffering. He truly was a monstrous man. His motions only became rougher, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you thought he might crush them. 

“Please… L-lord Sukuna…” you managed to cry out.

“Please what?” Again, that voice in your ear, that self-satisfied smile while watching you cry. 

“I-I don’t… I don’t know…” You didn’t know what you wanted. Did you want him to stop? You wanted the pain to end, but you didn’t want him to climb off you. 

“Really? Then I won’t let up.”

Unbelievably, he was thrusting even harder, even deeper. When you could no longer bear it, your hands that had been clenched at your sides flew up to wrap around his neck. He would probably kill you for touching him without permission, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Clutching him in your arms somehow made the agony between your legs subside just a little. 

If he was angered by your touch, he didn’t show it. Instead, he laughed as if he were amused by your desperation. 

Finally, when you were nearly at the limit of what you could withstand, you felt Sukuna’s cock twitch, his body go tense, and then  warm, sticky fluid shoot inside you. Your arms slipped down from his neck as he pulled out of you and let your sore legs fall to the bed. Somewhere in your dazed mind you knew this was the end. He’d had his fun with you and now he would kill you, just like all the others. You saw him stand up from the bed and wrap his robe around himself, but before he could even turn around, you passed out. 

*****

Sukuna looked down at the offering, feeling slightly annoyed that she had given out so quickly. She had held out better than most, however. 

Despite what he’d told her earlier, over half the women offered to him never even made it to his bed. They were crying too loudly or shoving their fake affection in his face or even having the gall to try to attack him. They ended up as chunks of meat in front of the dais. 

But this girl had been frustratingly blank and silent. He’d considered beheading her, but on a whim had decided to force a reaction out of her, thinking she could provide some entertainment. The reaction he got was not what he’d expected. 

Sukuna was fully capable of making a woman become aroused, but it was always after applying plenty of stimulation to certain areas, not because he wanted to pleasure them, but because fucking them felt better for him when they were wet. This girl, however, was practically dripping from the moment he first touched her. And when he’d looked at her face, he’d seen reddened cheeks and lusty, glazed eyes. He also saw fear, and that mixture was too delicious to waste. 

Those sounds she’d made, from the little hitching breaths to the soft moans she’d struggled to hold back, to the screams and cries of pain, had all been irresistible. He wanted to hear more of them. 

He stood looming over the bed, watching the growing red stain beneath her naked, still open thighs, and wondered what he should do with her. He could kill her right then and there as she slept, but that would be boring. Much better to listen to her sweet death cries. 

He reached up and absently touched the back of his neck. He could still feel her weak arms clinging to him. He stared down at the bruised and bleeding girl in his bed, at her sleeping tear-streaked face, and came to a decision. 

He summoned one of the shrine maidens, who entered the room with her eyes on the floor. She pointedly avoided looking toward the bed, probably afraid of what she would see. 

“Inform the village I won’t be needing a woman tomorrow night,” Sukuna told her. “I’m not finished with this one yet.”

The shrine maiden’s face lifted very slightly, the shock so much that she nearly forgot her manners. She quickly bowed again and said, “Yes, Lord Sukuna,” before hurrying out of the room. 

He sat down on the bed, then sighed before pulling a thin silken sheet up and draping it over the offering’s body. 

“Sleep while you can,” he murmured, a wicked grin returning to his face. “Tomorrow you’ll be entertaining me again.”

[smolsleepyfox]

hello! I've been listening to Wake Up the Wicked on loop pretty much constantly for the past couple days and keep finding new things to love about it! in particular I have many Thoughts about the way Powerwolf's songs with women as the focus have shifted over the years. unfortunately when I try to articulate those thoughts they mostly just come out as "AAAAAAAA Vargamor and Kyrie Klitorem and Joan of Arc just FEEL like such an important thing! I've been a fan for so long but something about these songs makes me (as a fem-adjacent person) feel like I can actually be part of the group!" in one of your posts about your thesis, you note how there's never been a Powerwolf song with a woman werewolf — I'd never noticed that until now, tho Vargamor and Dancing with the Dead feel close. examining that distinction is fascinating!

considering you've got a whole thesis on it and so will likely be able to go deeper than me, I'd love to hear any thoughts you have on how gender is handled in this album as compared to others, and in general, who "gets" to be a monster!

Okay this is a great question and also funnily enough something I've spoken about with another friend recently.

So the thing about monstrosity is that it is very heavily gendered. This doesn't start but is reflected in the Middle Ages where monstrosity is physical (since the distincion body/mind didn't really exist) BUT directly related to gender roles. The example most scholars go with are the Amazons, the mythical warrior women. They are monstrous because they only have one breast AND because they take on both gender roles, making clothing (female) and hunting (male). If you behaved weird people would assume you had a physical abnormality and a physical abnormality could be a sign of somethig wrong (e.g. witch marks). Note that "monstrous" isn't technically synonymous with "bad/evil". From what I gather, bestiaries and collections of monsters from far away lands were a curiosity with no inherent moral dimension, although it obviously held implications for the treatment of queer and disabled people, foreigners etc. Dana Oswald splits monstrosity into hypermasculine, hypersexual (feminine) and hybrid. Hypermasculine is exactly what you think it is, werewolves, giants, anything that is large and hairy and ravenous. The theme here is Taking. Wealth, sex, someone's life. Interestingly, exaggerated sexuality in the middle ages was culturally feminine, so centaurs are monstrously feminine due to their exagerrated sexuality. Another example are sirens. Hypersexual/feminine monsters seduce instead of take by brute force.

About werewolves specifically, let me open with Willem de Blecourt's opening line in a book about werewolf history: There is no werewolf history. What we today see as a werewolf (and Powerwolf uses as a mascot) is a modern cultural concept that is only an approximate to other times and cultures. Let's take the Varcolac, a creature from Slavic mythology (spelled differently in different languages). The Varcolac is often translated as werewolf, but if you look at the mythology it is - simplified - a reanimated corpse that drinks blood. Usually it's a person who was evil/frivolous/was excommunicated in life that rises again. So for all intents and purposes it's a vampire. Powerwolf does have some werewolf/vampire hybrids in their music and on tshirts, but since werewolves and vampires are both hypermasculine monsters that's only a side note.

To talk about as actual a werewolf as possible, you know 1589, you know the story of Peter Stubbe. Peter Stubbe was a highly publicized case that influenced later ones. Elements of his case reappear in trials in the low countries, Germany and England, but not in France because the pamphlets telling his story were not translated into French afawk. Some details also bear striking resemblances to earlier French cases, so it's very difficult to know what actually happened. Peter Stubbe single-handedly (heh) cemented the image of the cannibal werewolf for the early modern public BUT he's an outlier. Werewolf Georg if you will. Cannibalism is definitely a defining trait of many werewolves but almost everything else is different from our modern understanding. The persecution of werewolves in central Europe was almost completely tied to witchcraft allegations. Without getting into historical witchcraft as a whole, there was a concept of male and female witchcraft in line with the gender roles of agrarian society. A werewolf was related to violence against people and livestock as well as sexual threats. Just like witches, werewolves were assumed to transform with an ointment or belt given to them by the devil. The transformation is not physical, just like witches can't actually fly but fall into a trance (induced by the devil). [Note that the idea of physical transformation has been a MASSIVE point of debate for church scholars for as long as said church existed. Go take a look if you're curious.] More modern werewolf lore (1960s) from the B/NL/DE border region shows werewolves to be a shorthand for unacceptable liaisons and sexual assault, possibly homosexuality and bestiality, but usually just people dressed in a wolf pelt taking the piss. The modern idea of the werewolf, specifically the bipedal form and painful transformation is a Hollywood product. We can quite easily pin the origin on one specific film: The Wolf Man from 1941. The transformation and visual presentation was driven by the improved special effects of the film industry and their desire to give people a spectacle. This is also a central trait of monstrosity: It is physical because people want to see it.

SO! If we're being pedantic, no, werewolves are not inherently male. A handful of women were prosecuted as werewolves, though they were the minority within the already minor number of werewolf trials. But it is a fact that the majority of werewolves are male throughout history and werewolf characteristics are - as Dana Oswald puts it - hypermasculine, meaning they exaggerate and therefore threaten the dominant concept of masculinity in a given societal context. That's the baseline of monstrosity- it breaks boundaries and threatens the system it inhabits while reinforcing a rule for the listener.

It's notable that female werewolves in modern film are almost never seen transforming, including in staple films like Underworld. You have those beefy werewolf guys and the women just. Stand there. An outlier that gets quoted in almost every paper I've ever read is Ginger Snaps, which directly deals with the way Ginger's lycanthropy makes her monstrous both in breaking the boundaries of human/animal but also what is acceptable behavior for a girl. I don't have the sources to back this up yet but I see a strong parallel in this to women in Metal in general. Think about it, Metal music is counterculture and is almost defined by depicting monstrosity (satanism, violence, etc) and breaking the boundaries of what is music. Women in Metal are "monstrous" by associating with the transgressive scene the same as men - except they get held to a completely different standard. Metal is so male-dominated the ideal (visual, behavioral) gender presentation cannot include femininity or at least makes two clearly gendered molds. Women in metal, then, have to balance being "Metal" and being sufficiently feminine to be accepted. The male ideal I like to call the 'Metal warrior', because he's so often inspired by historical warrior culture but primarily defines himself by being large, strong, possibly aggressive and definitely drinking a lot. Everything that is masculine but juuuuust over the line of polite society. Which is what Powerwolf sings about as well, they just made it a furry.

-------

ANYWAY sorry for the long-ass background info, I got carried away lol. Note that for the next section, I am doing this off the top of my head since I haven't gotten to that part of the analysis yet. The deadline is approaching, send help.

I like to call Powerwolf my problematic faves because as camp as their performances are and as self-ironic as they try to make themselves out to be, their lyrics and videos are profoundly cishet. This isn't a criticism, just an observation. As far as we know they are cishet men from a rural part of Germany (and one Dutchman). I know we make jokes about the homoeroticism between Falk and Attila but I would not be surprised if they had no idea that's what they're doing. Most cishet people do not think about queerness unless they have a reason, and in a lot of social circles there simply is none. They just don't even consider it. There's something to be said about homosocial bonds in metal music but that's a topic so large I'll skip it for now. The only queer aspect I've seen in the entire history of Powerwolf is that lesbian kiss in the music video of No Prayer at Midnight and that was so blatantly male gaze-y I'm not sure if it even counts. So, fair warning, I'm going to say men and women as in cis men and women because I'm on mobile and typing is annoying as is.

First off, to answer your question: Yes, women have absolutely become a bigger part of Powerwolf's repertoire. Joan of Arc is a historical story that they implemented beautifully, and so is Vargamor. While I personally don't like Kyrie Klitorem it's definitely interesting to analyze in a wider context. What does stick out is that the majority of women in Powerwolf's music are sexualized in some way along with sexuality becoming a larger part of their theme in general. As far as I can see, sexuality was actually not a major part of the Powerwolf brand until Sacrament of Sin. Coleus Sanctus and Resurrection by Erection are from albums before that, but they're single songs on albums otherwise concerned with werewolves, vampires and that warrior image I mentioned before. Their earlier videos have almost never any side characters and it's mostly about spooky priest things and/or werewolves (kind of mixed with vampirism, which is a parallel to the Varcolac).

In general I would say there are two 'roles' that characters in the PW universe take and it was kind of hard to find the right wording, because depending on your reading they have VERY different connotations. I'm just going to call it the 'active' and the 'passive' right now until I've explained what I mean.

Women are sexualized in the music and the videos/artworks. That's just a fact, and hasn't changed much from the beginning until now. It's not even out of character for Power Metal as an heir to classic Heavy Metal and Glam Rock. Powerwolf sing about sex, specifically hetero sex, and mostly from the perspective of cishet men. Matt even said in an interview many years ago that he's unsure if he could write about pussy because he doesn't have one. Yes, really.

The language of the music is clerical, and commonly from the viewpoint of a religious person/priest of course, which reinforces the themes of wildness/hedonism by contrasting them with what is 'proper'. Circling back to my explanations of monstrosity - improper behavior and improper physical appearance are linked, so to break the laws of faith is to become monstrous, possibly physically. The band constantly portrays this overstepping of boundaries in a religious context. Call of the Wild quite literally says "To praise the wild while the bible we're tearing". Corpse paint I would argue I'd a visual marker of monstrosity as well, especially since the band are usually the only ones in that type of makeup.

Just visually, women are a big part in Powerwolf's art and video as side characters, especially burlesque dancers, and they're typically a shorthand for desire and sexuality. Open sexuality is a massive taboo in the Catholic Church, especially in the pseudo-medieval world their music inhabits. And a woman being active in her sexuality, even choosing what, who and how to desire is far over the line even in many modern societies. (Ginger Snaps tackled this as well.) So let's take a look:

There's Demons are a girl's best friend, which is on the surface a warning against being "corrupted" by demons (sexuality) but can also be interpreted - as the title suggests - that the female protagonist is quite aware of what she's doing and likes it. Kiss of the Cobra King shows the female protagonist in white, standing in for purity, before being corrupted and possibly killed for her transgression. Still unsure about that video tbh. Dancing with the Dead is less sexual and leans more heavily into the corruption (by witchcraft?) angle. I feel like there is a disconnect between text and video in this one because in the video, the female protagonist doesn't look at all willing to dance and Attila forces her to, whereas in the text the protagonist seems quite aware and in control of what she's doing. Undress to Confess is pretty fucking clear that the woman is having fun and the artwork shows a nun, while naked, in a dynamic, powerful pose. This is what I'd call the active role. There's also the flip side of that active role that isn't passiveness but control:

Kyrie Klitorem is about how women have power over men by virtue of their sexuality. Powerwolf often uses 'we' in their lyrics and while that's technically a non-gendered pronoun, the songs suggest the narrator is a (cishet) man. Venom of Venus is also similar in topic and structure, and the vampire queen from the Killers with the Cross video is also clearly in control while being sexy (as are the hunters).

So in the 'active' role, women can be corrupted, seductive as well as empowered, it really depends on your reading. Same goes for the videos by the way - the dancers can be shown in an objectifying way, but thinking of the dancer in My Will be Done she is on equal standing with the other characters asking Attila for something. (Also, burlesque dance is an awesome art form.) Angel and Devil in that same music video are portrayed by women. However, the reduction of a woman to her body is obviously part of a long history of sexualization.

Which brings me to the passive role and the use of the nun image. Nuns have been sexualized for absolute ages. There's drawings and gossip from the Middle Ages about nuns and priests doing stuff they shouldn't. Good for them etc pp.* Powerwolf is really not reinventing the wheel by contrasting the nun's modesty/virtuousness with unrestrained sexuality. I mean look at this.

The role of women in the Catholic Church is an entire can of worms by itself. In Powerwolf's art, the love of Jesus/God is just placed on a different figure. I actually hesitate to interpret what the intention is, if it's critical of the church or a power fantasy. They absolutely criticize religion in their songs (Glaubenskraft, Sinners of the Seven Seas) but their visuals are also heavily inspired by historical art and can just be meant to look cool. That's something the band stresses in almost every interview when they are asked about deeper meanings: It has to be entertainment first. Their cover artist Zsofia Dankova told me the same: Looking cool has priority.

So nuns are in general portrayed as subservient, as they are in history and art, and sexualized. The focus on the band in performances - which in itself isn't really that surprising - and Attila's and Falk's role as 'clergy' does put them into a position of power. Here's where it gets interesting, because the bottom line of Powerwolf has been and is Have fun. In Wake up the Wicked it's a major plot point that one of them actively invites the young priest (altar boy? Idk I grew up Protestant). The artworks draw on art conventions from pulp fiction and classical works, but if you look at the lyrics involving women** it's either about submitting yourself (to pleasure) or actively seeking it out.

This has gotten way too fucking long but here's a minor detour before we get to the end. What else does PW sing about? Yes, werewolves, and history, but regardless of the underlying inspiration (Blood for Blood is about an Irish legend, I wouldn't have guessed that just from the lyrics) they sing about either bravery and power, or excess and hedonism, sometimes both. I've already mentioned the warrior ideal in my introduction, and that does a LOT of heavy lifting. Many of the artworks and merch have some sort of military theme, especially the crusades because that's fitting for the medieval-ish vibe the band has. The 'holy' knights as werewolves is both commentary on the actual crusades in a way, but also puts the listener into the body of a powerful beast heading into battle, which is just plain fun. Plenty of music is about riding into battle, Viking Metal exists. I spoke to Zsofia Dankova, Powerwolf's resident visual artist, and asked her what she thinks about the werewolf being implicitly male. She said she doesn't really see the werewolf she draws as gendered because it's just a symbol, something that stands in for power. I was a bit dubious about that answer at first, but it actually shows my own cultural bias, because that is the connotation of the werewolf at work, not the artwork itself. You can absolutely argue that the positions and clothes the werewolf is in (see image above) are men's, but for the most part, the wolves in their art are clothed in simple robes or armour that anyone could wear. It is just convention that makes it seem male. Growling (the vocal technique) is also male-coded even though men and women who growl sound identical.

I'm not going into more detail about the depiction of masculinity because y'all can read my thesis for that. Instead, I want to return to my introduction about what is considered monstrous: The breaking and exaggeration of social norms. Sexuality is what makes the women in Powerwolf monstrous - alongside a proclivity for witchcraft. Vargamor shows her to be a mother as the name implies, but more importantly a wise leader and powerful magic user. It's implied that she can fight, but the chorus is more insistent that she dwells in the shadows and is a steady presence for many different iterations of the pack through the years.

The men on the other hand are shown to be monstrous by being violent, hedonistic beasts. The songs again and again reiterate wildness and unrestrained summer fun battle prowess. Technically you could argue that 'we' doesn't have to mean men, but that would ignore centuries of cultural connotations and that it needs a pretty good in-text reason to assume an all-male metal band is writing their songs in a female lyrical I (we?).

Powerwolf quite simply portrays monstrosity as it has been since the Middle Ages, along gendered lines. This makes sense because they draw on given cultural conventions, history and folklore, they're just on the side of the monster. There's definitely something to be said about the sexualization of women in Metal and the male gaze, but the wolves have also very clearly heard the call for more female representation.

If anyone is still reading, congratulations I nearly drove myself insane here.

* As with most things in life, this isn't black and white. Nuns had some social advantages and there were most likely plenty of consensual relationships, but as women in a patriarchal society they were still under the authority of men who could harm them. ** I excluded Glaubenskraft because that song breaks with the Powerwolf universe by adressing a current, real-life injustice. Completely different topic.

[serenescribe]

i don’t have a specific prompt, but maybe something with malleus being soft for sebek, perhaps post-book 7? thanks in advance! i love ur writing!

[✐] ficlet frenzy (thank you for your kind words! ;v; i'm always surprised and happy that people enjoy my writing so much)

Malleus knows better than to complain after everything he’s done, especially when said complaints concern such mundane yet essential duties. There is plenty of work to be completed with handling the aftermath of his overblot, especially considering the absolute scale of it all — a monstrously massive dome of thorns that slowly, ever so slowly, began to envelop the entire world. Had it not been for a handful of heroes — the Shrouds, for one, but also Malleus’ loved ones: Lilia, Sebek, and Silver, along with the child of man and their direbeast — he would have undoubtedly succeeded.

Damage control is essential in these critical moments after his overblot. Plenty of magic and technology, though Malleus lacks a complete understanding of how the latter works, are being employed to clean up his mess. Malleus himself, though, is busy with meeting after meeting, day after day. Of conferring with the headmage, discussing matters with the Shrouds, and, perhaps most embarrassingly enough, needing to be lectured over and over again by his grandmother, who travelled personally from the valley.

He is still allowed to stay in Diasomnia throughout all this, though that is more because of convenience than anything else. It doesn’t mean much when all the students give him an even wider berth than before, his loneliness taken to a new extreme. Sure, Lilia has changed his mind and will now stay with him, and Malleus is still close to him, Silver, and Sebek, but…

The guilt eats at him nonetheless.

Regardless, there is little they can do on the side of diplomacy, save for giving their testimonies and standing up for him, an action that Malleus deems more merciful than anything else. Malleus is largely alone for most of these days as he wrangles this mess with everyone else, while the others return to their regular schedule of classes and studies as though a world-shattering incident had not just occurred.

So it comes as a surprise to him when he returns especially late one night, entering the dorm in the wee hours of the morning at a time when even Lilia wouldn’t be awake, and sees Sebek fast asleep on the couch.

Malleus can only stare for a while, blinking in utter surprise. Sebek is one who is typically early to bed and early to rise; had he passed out here somehow? It doesn’t occur to him until he gives it some thought that perhaps Sebek had only fallen asleep here because he’d been waiting for him — and it is with that realisation that something clicks, memories of seeing Sebek on this couch night after night whenever he comes back, sitting with the other two, rising to the front of his mind.

“Your neck is going to hurt, sleeping in such a position,” Malleus murmurs, leaning over Sebek and taking in the peaceful expression of his face, the light snore that escapes his parted lips. He doesn’t even think about it before he summons a spell; green sparks fly around them as, in the blink of an eye, they are whisked to Sebek’s room, filled with the snores of his fellow roommates who, thankfully, do not stir at Malleus’ intrusion.

Gently, he lowers Sebek on the bed with the help of his magic. The mattress dips under his weight, and Malleus busies himself with fluffing up the pillows (to prevent any stiff muscles in Sebek’s neck), and straightening out the blanket, snapping it wide open in the air with the flick of his wrist before draping it over the sleeping Sebek. He steps back, surveying his work for a moment, a swell of warmth blooming in his chest.

This is good.

He reaches out with a hand, hesitating before stroking his fingers through those tousled, green locks. “Rest well, Sebek,” Malleus whispers, his voice hushed. Sparks dance around his fingertips, and the sleeping boy’s face smooths out into utter bliss; “May you have the sweetest dreams.”

After all, it is only what Sebek deserves, after everything he has gone through to save Malleus from himself.

[asouthernpansie]

Sequel to this post (the 'blatant snexism' one):

"Crowley?"

"Yessss... my sweetpea?" Never before had so innocent an endearment sounded so menacing.

"What the... what the heck are you doing?"

Crowley gave him a stern look. "I'm afraid I'm going to need to ask you to leave, Aziraphale. This is a snake-only space."

"No it's not! It's the store room for our bookshop! & I came in to retrieve one of my Welsh-language Bibles from that stack over there and there's a cobra sitting on it!"

The striped snake swivelled its head lazily towards the angel.

"Nagajothi is an oriental rat snake, ACtually."

One of the other serpents - there were about 20 of various sizes, colours and species assembled in a circle on the floor, presumably prevented by some form of demonic enchantment from simply slithering away or attacking each other- glided over to Crowley and hissed at him.

"My snibling Asclepius says you need to stop oppressing us with your snexist attitude and respect our need to commune as snakes," Crowley translated, waving his hand languidly to shoo the angel away.

"If you care to remember, Crowley," Aziraphale retorted wearily, "I am in fact an angel, fluent in all the tongues of the world, yea, and of all the men and beasts thereof. So I know damned well that snake said nothing of the sort, and I do believe the little fellow was hissing because he finds you threatening and rather annoying. I regret that he and I are somewhat on the same page on this."

The demon scowled, and Aziraphale decided to press his advantage while his adversary/lover struggled to respond. "And if this is a snake-only space, what are they doing here? They're not a snake either!" He pointed dramatically at Muriel, who beamed back.

"I know! Mr Crowley said that as a non-binary angel I could attend Serpent Consciouness Raising as a one-off to discuss solidarity between the LGBTQ & snake community! I'm feeling more empowered already!"

A rather fetching little black and red garter snake made a sudden dash for freedom towards a dark corner, and both angels felt the tang of a demonic miracle as Crowley re-hypnotised it into slithering back into the circle and staring gormlessly ahead like the others.

"Oh, fine. This is animal cruelty in my opinion, but if you want to play your silly little game then yes, let's make this room a 'snake-only space'."

Crowley smirked. "You'd better be going then, snexist."

Aziraphale smiled. To an innocent observer he had a lovely smile, all shining aquamarine eyes and laughter lines.

Crowley knew better. "What are you-" he managed before the angel snapped his fingers.

Where he had stood, a monstrously large snake with a pearly-white sheen and an improbable tartan-patterned underside was now coiled.

"Ssssso," it said, "What'ssssss firsssst on the agenda?"

[isa-ghost]

hey it's the anon who asked what dr*m did,

I decided to do my own research (mainly cause I was curious) but... I can't find much? let me rephrase it - I did find the allegations from 6ish months ago, that he's going to court with one(?) of them, but that's... all? I didn't find the court's verdict, confirmations, or him admitting either... and any post or video I find has both the OP and the comments mostly on his side and believing that it's either not true or true but not grooming, even people who say they're not his fans or don't even like him.

so Im not sure if the confirmation didn't reach youtube or if I'm searching wrong or something?

but honestly while researching I realized that I cant stand him lmao, gotta agree with some comments I read - he made a mistake by showing more of his personality online, looks like any time he can handle a situation wrong/respond wrong he does it

so dunno, guess I didnt find the confirmation but at least now I don't find his old minecraft videos interesting anymore so theres that

Yeah he can't act properly to save his fucking life

Also I think most of the threads on Twitter and stuff that have all the proof he's guilty/etc is probably long buried, unfortunately. You could probably try to ask around saying you're trying to get the whole picture but tbh it's not a huge deal if you can't. You can try searching my blog but Tumblr sucks with that shit. The fact that this and his other controversies have been buried and lost to the void of the internet is typical white boy with a monstrously big platform shit so I'm not surprised. I never heard any details about court (prob for legal reasons) or a conviction either. All I know is there was screenshot proof from the victim that they talked, and Dr*m confirmed the screenshots were real but didn't say anything about other details. But those details literally can't be false if the screenshots & the shit said in them are true.

Anyway, as far as his other bullshit goes:

People found old kkk meme edits on his yt account through the wayback machine. More than once if I'm not mistaken

He has a history of defending himself using the r slur

He cheated "on accident" in a speedrun (the least important thing ever but everyone always brings it up)

He claimed he was going to donate all proceeds during pride month to lgbt+ charities & he'd do charity streams all month but never did

He defended himself about replying to haters, which would send thousands of his toxic stans after the person getting them doxxed/death threats/etc and he refused to address that it was irresponsible of him bc he was too entitled to immaturely clap back at the antis. Even other ccs, like B/itzel called him out about shit related to how he uses his platform irresponsibly & he unfollowed & shaded them like a bitch baby

The whole "accidental" copycat shit with QSMP/USMP and basically softcore stalking Q/uackity online.

His "apologies" for all of the above fucking sucked in multiple ways. And that's just 2021-Now shit I can remember off the top of my head, I lost my Twitter in May last year so now I get my info from people's posts about it on here or links to tweets.

Everyone largely suspects he spontaneously reignited d/smp lore & started the finale to cover up the groomer thing bc he has a history of doing smth "new and cool" every time he causes drama to divert attention and avoid accountability.

He's also suspected of suddenly rewriting the d/smp finale to paint his Irredeemable Abuser Villain Up Until The Last Stream as a sympathetic poor baby out of nowhere and wrote that his victim, c!Tommy apologized to him, which sends a HORRIBLE message about abusive relationships. T/ommy and T/ubbo have both subtly mentioned not liking the finale and that Dr*m had AWFUL communication during the last like 6+ months of the smp.

He also suddenly showed up in T/ubbo's chat lurking while T/ubbo happened to be mentioning he'd do his own research on the grooming situation instead of blindly siding with Dr*m and it was some shit out of a horror movie is2g, he suddenly dmed T/ubbo out of nowhere during it on discord saying they'd talk about it after T/ubbo wasn't streaming. Basically sounds like he was gonna bias T/ubbo about his innocence. Like he hadn't been in chat all stream long but SUDDENLY he was there the second the topic came up. But the d/smp ccs also can't say anything about the situation since it's a legal matter, so a handful of ccs have just stated/implied they don't support him other ways

He only quit MCC bc he threw a tantrum about how he couldn't practice for it but now that MCC island exists, people were getting better than him. He's habitually a sore loser about that kinda shit

He's got that whole weird "is he, isn't he" bullshit going on about him being lgbt. I personally think he's just catering to his stupid d/n/f shippers bc they like to truth their relationship & sexuality all the time and he's never explicitly said he's bi or smth. He's just vaguely been like "yeeeaahhhh I mostly like girls like 99% but maaaayyybeee I like guys idkkkk. 🤪" But he's also done that multiple times so who tf knows. I'm not gonna fully dismiss him & I understand no one including me is entitled to his specific sexuality, but he has garbage credibility on like everything so I'm neutral on the matter and find it hard to believe him

Not directly him related, but his stans went on a long and horrifying witch hunt on Twitter during the kkk ordeal doxxing, death threatening & harassing ENTIRE mcyt subtwts who spoke out against him and called him out on his racism, performative activism, shitty apology, etc. For example, I was part of S/neeg's subtwt and all my mutuals and me had to go private to avoid getting doxxed. It felt like being raided in some dystopian ass horror film. Entire subtwts were going private, panicking, paranoid they'd get outed & stalked & harassed by people just for condemning racism, raising Black voices, etc. It was borderline traumatic to some people, I know people who lost sleep over it bc they were so afraid.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head but the end of 2021 to early 2022 was a fucking nightmare between him being an immature entitled piece of shit and his stans blindly defending him and going out of their way to endanger people who rightfully opposed him.

[valeriefauxnom]

Day 1 of Showing Off WillOfWinnie's Incredible Early Birthday Gifts: Lots of Fic Art for one of my Dragalia Lost Fanfictions!

So WillOfWinnie decided to do A Thing(tm), and gave a very early birthday gift in the form of not one, but 17 pieces of art for Scaling the Walls of a Mystery, my monstrously large (nearly 200k up and more on the way) Dragalia Lost post-game fic on AO3!

SEVENTEEN. PIECES. (All the while lying that she had seen any of it besides the comments!)

Of course, I'm now legally obligated to share them, but since it'd be a lot for one post, I'll be splitting them up into 17 posts to give each one the love it deserves, in the order of their chronology in the fic! I'll also be updating the fic itself with the art du jour so any new readers who understandably ignore this rant-heavy blog still can see the art!

Here's the first, straight from chapter 1!

While I normally try to remember to keep the fic stuff out of the main tag as not to clutter or come off as too advertise-y, for these, if there's any enjoyment that might be found as a non-reader from these, I'll be tagging the main tag. Hopefully that doesn't bother anyone, but I just feel the compulsive need to share this wonderful gift!

Relevant exert:

What he had not expected, though, or even remotely considered as a possibility, was the rapid welling of power among the boy before his form, too, twisted into a dragon’s. The energy shuddered and stuttered, briefly fading and returning in rapid succession, before it completed the transformation and Leonidas could behold another dragon’s form. Not just any dragon’s either, but Leonidas recognized the figure as Midgardsormr, the legendary and reclusive Windwyrm of the Mistholt, as described in the history books. Euden- Midgardsormr? Gave him no time to ponder the implications of this, as he too burst into the sky, wind mana aiding his escape. Try as he might, Leonidas could not muster the energy or strength to beat back the winds buffeting his ascent as ‘Euden’ climbed higher and higher into the sky, before disappearing completely above the clouds. Eventually he gave it up, begrudgingly returning to his mortal flesh. Oh, this stranger may have escaped this day, but he would be found. The hunt was far from over, and oh what a hunt it would be.

[humanpurposes]

Karma is a God, Chapter 13 teaser

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Words: 600-ish

A/n: I can't help it, I wanna post something, so please accept this as an apology for taking nearly 8 weeks to update this 😚

The skies over Blackwater Bay and Crackclaw Point are clear. There are no clouds to hide in and Grey Ghost makes quick work of the distance from Dragonstone to Maidenpool.

The Queen had ordered that she fly straight back to King’s Landing after accompanying Baela and Rhaena to Dragonstone, but as much as she fears her mother’s wroth, she fears what might happen if she sits idly.

To the south, Borros Baratheon has summoned his banners to Storm’s End. To the west, the Lannisters clash with the Iron Fleet. The Tyrells have taken a neutral stance, but the Hightower army is rebuilding in the Reach, rallying behind Prince Daeron and Criston Cole.

As for the Riverlands… the reports they receive are harrowing.

For almost two moons, Aemond has terrorised the Riverlands, unleashing dragonfire and death upon all those he deems to be traitors. Everything in his path turns to ash; towns, cities, castles, crops, and too many lives to count.

They fly high enough that the world spreads out below them like a map. As they approach the southern shore of the Bay of Crabs, she can see where the green fields turn to black. Smoke rises from the ground, trees reach against a grey sky, charred and bare. No life remains where Vhagar flies.

Could he hear the screams as he did it? Was he blind to the suffering, or did he bathe himself in it?

She had heard the cries of dying men as she burnt the Tyroshi war ships by Driftmark, but they were distant, a noise lingering in the back of her mind. All she remembers of that night is the smell of smoke, flashes of golden flames blurred through her tears, emptiness and rage. Thousands of lives ended, for the sake of avenging two already lost.

It is not the same, she tells herself.

They were soldiers. Any one of them could have been the man who released the quarrel that killed Jace, or manned the ship that sunk the Gay Abandon and young Viserys with it.

Aemond kills because he is cruel.

And I…

Death could not save the people who died at Hightide and Spicetown, it could not bring back her brothers, or any other lives lost at The Gullet. That thought has lingered in her mind ever since, a parasite draining the warmth from her body, the life from her soul.

But this is war. Either she will die a martyr, like Jace, like Rhaenys, or survival will chip away at the person she once was.

Maidenpool is nothing compared to the grandeur of Dragonstone or the high walls and towers of The Red Keep. Its keep and battlements are grey and cobbled, covered in moss and ivy so it blends in seamlessly with the surrounding greenery and the backdrop of the sea.

The castle is not the first thing she spots though, rather the blood red dragon that lies before the outer walls. Caraxes is curled in on himself, in a rare moment of peace as he sleeps. But he stirs as they land, rearing his head and glaring at them through wide, golden eyes.

Grey Ghost is uneasy, and not without cause. The Bloodwyrm is monstrously large, bloodthirsty and chaotic.

She remembers the first time she saw Caraxes, as their families gathered on Driftmark for the funeral of Laena Velaryon. Jace had flown on Vermax, while she, too small to ride Arrax, rode in a carriage with her mother and father. They reached Hightide and suddenly she heard a thunderous roar and a whistling, rippling shriek. What a sight they were, Caraxes and Vhagar, soaring from the East with the sunrise. They terrified her in different ways. Vhagar was colossal, and though Caraxes was smaller, he was swift, with piercing eyes, sharp teeth and a serpentine neck that she couldn’t help but follow as it swayed and slithered.

The gates open before she has dismounted. Daemon leads an escort of guards to meet her, dressed in his riding leathers rather than his armour. He knows not to come too close to Grey Ghost.

Her dragon is steadfastly steady as she dismounts, his head fixed on the men who have dared to approach his rider.

Strangers, hisses the voice in her head. Danger.

[bthump]

I honestly question why Zodd is still in the story, yeah he’s popular with fans, but I legit have no idea what else he’s supposed to be doing.

Is he supposed to be some sort of measuring stick for Guts’ strength? A leftover from the Golden Age arc? What purpose is this dude supposed to fulfill now?

I once confused Wyald with Zodd and I feel that he could’ve taken Wyald’s place in the story just fine. The band managed to bust out of Midland, boom! Zodd shows up, measures up Guts, and pushes him and the band to their absolute limits while Griffith can’t do shit to help like he did in the past. Would do Wyald’s narrative purpose better, probably without all the sexual assault Casca has to go through.

Idk I think Zodd has a few important roles in the story. He's a foilto Guts for one. He's someone who's succumbed to his blood-lusty dark side. He's a parallel to Guts as a monster in touch with his humanity, while Guts is a human in danger of succumbing to his monstrousness.

Sonia has that little scene where she calls Guts Zodd's counterpart and says they both have to make a choice between human volition or monstrous instinct, which explains the thematic significance of the two of them allying up to fight Ganishka. Zodd shows that monsters aren't inevitably monstrous.

Granted some of the other apostles do too, like Locus and Irvine, but I think it hits more effectively with Zodd because we've seen him at his most monstrous.

Plus Guts is driven to kill Zodd after having been defeated by him, but that drive is a contributing factor to Guts' own monstrousness, so there's good character stuff in place to make a potential final showdown between them feel epic and exciting and significant on a thematic and character level.

I don't think he'd work in place of Wyald either, based on how he's established in his previous two appearances. He backs off when he realizes who Griffith is, and then saves Guts' life by throwing him a sword at the battle of Doldrey. He's intent on preserving the Hawks for sacrifice, and actively doing what he can to help fate along. Wyald doesn't give a fuck which is why he kills a bunch of Hawks.

Also, I feel like Guts has to defeat Wyald, that's largely the point of the whole sequence. It's showing how powerful, but also how "inhuman" Guts is becoming himself.

Ultimately Zodd finishes him off to save Griffith, but he was dying from the wounds Guts inflicted at the time, so Guts functionally won.

I feel like it's a significant prelude to the Black Swordsman stuff that wouldn't work with Zodd, because Zodd would just kick Guts' ass. And there's no reason for Zodd to show up and fight the Hawks to test their limits either. They're all going to die in a day, as far as he's concerned, and Zodd is established as the type who doesn't hold back in a fight. Like the instant Guts breaks his sword in the keep, he transforms into his monster self and prepares to kill him, even though he's intrigued at Guts' skill.

To be fair you could completely rework Zodd's role in the story to make him more of a chump who Guts can defeat, then he's killed off and no more Zodd. But again, I like his role in the story post-Eclipse too. Griffith's main enforcer, a parallel and contrast to Guts, and someone Guts can eventually fight in a demonstration of how fucked up Guts has become.

Plus he's fun lol. I love the scene where they team up at the docks, eg. I like that he's a familiar touchstone for Guts in a way, as someone he interacted with a few times pre-Eclipse and who's now taken his place working for Griffith. It's neat.

But yeah that's just my opinion lol, if you're just not into him then that's fair!

[bracketsoffear]

The Lady (Little Nightmares) propaganda: the entire game is Flesh-coded, because it centers around her restaurant--The Maw, a decadent hell where rich Guests eat endless feasts of delicacies like human flesh. The source of the human meat is kids kept in cages until the Janitor wraps them in butcher paper and sends them on hooks to the Chefs--monstrously large humanoids who make pig-like or elephant like squeals and wear skin-like masks, who cook and serve the children imprisoned on the Maw to the Guests, and implicitly serve unlucky Guests to their own kind as well. They will also cook Six if they manage to seize her—they either throw her into an oven, drop her in a pot of soup, stuff her into a fish or drop her into a meat grinder. Some children have tried to escape, such as the Runaway Kid, only to be transformed by the Lady's magic into Nomes. The Lady, like her staff and customers, is actually disgustingly deformed under her mask--her true face is akin to melted butter, and she's so horrified by it that she is hurt by looking at mirrors. In short, while not the most Fleshy-looking entity on The Maw, she perpetuates a LOT of Flesh through industrial farming of humans for meat, cannibalism, and mutilation.

There's also the possibility that Six is related to or somehow becomes The Lady b/c Weird Time Shit, so it's worth discussing her too. Six is periodically beset with sudden attacks of debilitating hunger which prevent her from continuing until she eats something. She devours a piece of bread large enough to be an entire meal by itself, then later does the same with a piece of meat. She later consumes a live rat, which in comparison to her is about the size of a large dog. Much later, she devours a Nome, who is slightly smaller than Six herself, and also a former human (The Runaway Kid) who had been nothing but friendly to her; ironically, she'd still have been doing cannibalism if she'd accepted the sausage the Nome offered because the sausages on the Maw are made of human. At the end, she takes a big chunk out of the Lady's neck, which gives her The Lady's powers. Even if The Lady isn't Six or Six's mother, Six's story ties into the Flesh themes of Little Nightmares, and Six getting The Lady's magic by eating her flesh basically indicates that Six has taken her place as an Avatar of the Flesh. Also, because I have this post (https://equalseleventhirds.tumblr.com/post/655973299559563264/v-busy-at-work-today-but-that-post-abt-how-tmas) on the brain: the Orientalist aesthetic of The Lady (also seen in the main areas of the Maw) could also be considered Flesh in the commodification of the body sense--she is dressed as a geisha (who were not prostitutes by profession, but did historically engage in sex work) and, assuming she is Japanese, could either be seen as selling herself and her culture as a commodity to the white-coded Guests.

.

[candycandy00]

The Offering - A Sukuna x Reader Fic Part 2

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a human man, albeit a monstrously cruel and powerful one. Villages across the land worshipped him as a living deity. One such village holds a festival for seven nights in his honor every year, and on each night they make generous offerings to him, including women who are never seen again. On the fifth night, you are selected to be the offering. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Any feedback whatsoever is greatly loved! If you’d like to be tagged when I post another part, comment to let me know. You must have your age in your bio or pinned post and be 18+ to be tagged.  

Smut. 18+. Sukuna is a human (my theory is that he got his four-armed body by modifying himself with jujutsu fuckery later in life). Dubcon. Mentions of rape that happened “off screen”. Very rough sex. Blood. Sukuna just generally being a sadistic monster. F!Reader. This part is dark and quite intense!

You didn’t know how much time had passed when one of the shrine maidens woke you up by gently shaking your shoulder. You found yourself in Sukuna’s bed, a sheet draped over you. When you tried to sit up, your entire body was wracked with pain. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, then slowly sat up again with the shrine maiden’s help. 

“Lord Sukuna has demanded your presence,” she said. “I know you must be sore but you mustn’t keep him waiting.”

Looking down, you saw countless purple bruises covering your skin, especially on your thighs and breasts. Pulling the sheet away from your nude body, you saw a frighteningly large bloodstain beneath you. It seemed to have dried overnight, so you assumed the bleeding had stopped.

With the older woman’s help, you stood on trembling legs and pulled the sheer robe back on. There was a deep, throbbing ache between your thighs, but you’d honestly expected it to be worse. 

The two of you made your way back toward the front area of the shrine, where the dais had been, but before reaching it the woman led you to a different room toward the left side of the building. In it, you found another bath filled with steaming water and cherry blossoms. The other two shrine maidens were waiting inside, and they gently removed the robe from your body. 

“Lord Sukuna has already bathed here this morning. He instructed us to bathe you here as well.”

You looked at the water and felt a familiar heat in your body that had nothing to do with the steam. This was the same water Lord Sukuna had just been bathing in? And now you were going to use it? There was something strangely intimate about this situation. You tried to keep yourself calm as you stepped into the water, wincing as it touched your sore and injured parts. As you sank down into the water’s warmth, you felt your body relaxing slightly. 

When the bath was finished, the shrine maidens helped you climb out and dry off, then they dressed you in a fresh but equally sheer white robe. 

You looked at the woman who had spoken to you the day before and asked, “When will he kill me?”

You’d thought it would be last night, but were surprised to wake up this morning. Did he usually kill the offerings the next day?

The woman hesitated, then said very quietly, “You are the first offering to survive the night you were brought in.” She looked at the other two as if to see if they approved of her speaking to you. When neither of them attempted to silence her, she added, “Lord Sukuna has told us not to bring a new woman tonight. You are the offering again.”

Two feelings hit you simultaneously: horror at the thought of being there for another day and night, at all the ways he could hurt you in that time, and relief that your death had likely been delayed until at least the end of the night. 

The women offered no more information, silently leading you through the shrine again, this time to the front, where the dais was. When you neared it, you noticed the shrine maidens lowering their heads, so you did the same, careful not to look up as you moved around the dais to stand in front of it. In unison, the shrine maidens bowed low to the ground, and you quickly dropped down as well, ignoring the pain shooting through your body as you did so. 

You heard Sukuna’s silky voice say, “Leave us.”

The three women got to their feet and left through the shrine’s front doors. Suddenly you were alone with him again, and your heart began pounding rapidly. 

“You can stop bowing,” he said with a casual tone. 

You looked up to see him sitting on a pillow on the dais. There was a low table in front of him with several plates and bowls, and in the center, the large basket of fruits you had personally arranged the day before. 

He motioned for you to come to him, and as you carefully stood up and approached, he spoke again. 

“The shrine maidens brought this offering this morning. I don’t usually accept them during the day, but they told me something interesting. Apparently this was offered by your family.”

You looked at the basket when you reached the edge of the dais, and you felt tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Your parents must have been told that you were still alive, and this was probably their way of trying to send you a message of comfort or encouragement. 

Sukuna watched your emotional reaction with absolutely no visible emotion of his own. “You recognize it?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “I arranged the fruits myself,” you told him. 

He reached over and pulled a pomegranate from the basket. “Shall we try them?”

You blinked in surprise. His tone was so much softer today. “Can I?” you asked, wanting to be sure to have his permission. 

“Come, sit,” he said, patting his lap with his free hand. 

You paused for a moment, staring at his spread open thighs, his ankles crossed under each other. Again, that heat in your core began to spread and intensify. He patted his lap again, and you stepped onto the dais beside him, then eased yourself down onto one of his legs. You instantly felt the warmth of his firm body against yours, and you knew your face must have been getting red again. 

He held the pomegranate in his hand and squeezed, his unnatural strength crushing the outer layer and allowing the juicy seeds to pop free. He reached around you, using his free hand to scoop up a few seeds and put them in his mouth. You watched with parted lips and pounding heart as he licked his fingers clean before scooping up more seeds. You thought he would put them in your mouth this time, but again he put them in his own. 

A trail of juice dripped down his lips, and he used his thumb to catch it, then licked his hand again. You were in his lap, getting a close up view of his every action, and you thought you might simply burst. You could feel dampness growing between your legs, and you hoped he couldn’t feel it through both your robes. You squirmed slightly and his eyes sharply shifted to your face. Then he grinned. 

“You must be so thirsty. With all the screaming and crying you did last night, your throat must be positively raw.”

It was raw, and dry. You hadn’t been given anything to eat or drink since coming to the shrine. You stared longingly at the shiny, dripping pomegranate seeds scooped into his long fingers. He brought them up, but bypassed your mouth and pressed them into his again, making a show of licking his fingers, allowing a string of his saliva to dangle from them. 

Then, suddenly, he pressed two of those fingers into your mouth. You were surprised, but your tongue automatically licked the fingers, swirling around the digits, tasting his saliva and the faint hint of pomegranate juice. Without realizing it, you had leaned slightly forward as he pushed the fingers in and out of your open mouth, grazing your lips and playing with your needy tongue. 

His other hand snaked around your body and slipped under the front of your robe, groping your still bruised breast. He watched you desperately sucking his fingers and said, “Did you really think a pitiful girl like you deserved to partake of my offerings?”

You tried to shake your head no, but his wet fingers slid out of your mouth and held your face still while he pinched your nipple beneath your robe, causing you to whimper. “You can partake, but only in one way,” he said, then lightly pushed you off his lap. You ended up sitting on the dais in front of him, the table pushed a couple of feet away now. 

Sukuna pulled one knee up, causing his robe to spread open and reveal his already hard cock. You stared at it, shocked by its size now that you could see it in the brighter lighting of this room. Had that thing really been inside you last night? No wonder it hurt. 

While you watched, somewhat dazed, Sukuna reached over and pulled a peach from the table. He held it in front of him and squeezed, letting the plentiful juices drizzle over his cock. He grinned at you and said, “Now, you can partake.”

Your breaths became quicker as you looked at the glistening peach juice, at the huge erection practically in your face. But you didn’t hesitate for long. You crawled closer and bent your head toward him, extending your tongue and lapping up the peach juice dripping from his tip. It was delicious. 

You ran your tongue all over it, then took it into your mouth to suck any remnants of juice off his flesh. 

Sukuna stared down at you without emotion, then suddenly smirked. He grabbed an apple and bit into it, his too-sharp teeth crunching the fruit with ease. “If you can’t make me cum by the time I finish eating this apple, I’ll punish you.”

With that, he took another bite. 

You glanced up at him in disbelief. You’d never pleasured a man before in your life, and now you had to do it within a time limit? He swallowed the bite of apple in his mouth and took another. “Better hurry,” he said with a malicious smile. 

With a spike of alarm, you quickly wrapped your lips around him again, licking and sucking and trying to figure out what felt good for him. None of your movements seemed to get any sort of reaction, and every couple minutes you heard him take another bite, loudly, as if to make you aware of the countdown. 

Finally you decided to just give up trying to find some perfect maneuver that would please him and focus on what you wanted to do. You wanted him in your mouth. You wanted to touch him, taste him, and so you slowed down, running your tongue over his length with reverence. You took as much of him as you could fit into your mouth, licking every inch and savoring the taste of him. Your eyes slid closed as you buried your moist tongue into his tip, digging out the fluids that were beginning to leak out. 

After a while, you realized you hadn’t heard him take another bite, so you looked up. You found him watching you, the half eaten apple sitting in his hand as if he’d forgotten he was supposed to be tormenting you. Then his eyes met yours, he smirked, and took an especially large bite. 

You didn’t let that distract you from your task. You continued treating his cock like it was your favorite meal and you were starving for it, like you were blessed just to have it in your mouth. You squeezed your thighs together, but you could still feel your own arousal dripping down your legs. You let yourself get lost in your own desire, your own pleasure, as you lovingly sucked him off. 

You don’t know how many minutes, or bites, passed before you felt him stiffen in your mouth. You knew he was close, but in the next moment, you saw him sit the now bare apple core on the floor beside you. 

“Too slow,” he said in that voice that drove you mad. 

You suddenly felt a stab of panic, and started to pull away from him, but his hand was immediately in your hair, gripping it painfully as he shoved himself all the way to the back of your throat and a burst of cum filled your mouth. 

“Don’t swallow yet,” he told you, looking down at you with a cold expression, “and don’t dare let any spill.”

You tried to do as he commanded even as more cum shot into your mouth, coating every inch. There was so much that it felt like your cheeks were stretching. You breathed through your nose, struggling to keep the cum from sliding down your throat or spilling out. 

When he’d finished, he slowly pulled his cock from your full mouth and said, “Show me.”

You tilted your head up toward him and carefully opened your trembling lips, slightly extending your tongue so that he could see all the cum pooled there. 

He smiled and said, “Ahh, a woman always looks best when her mouth is full of my cum.”

If you were dripping wet before, now you were positively soaked. 

“You can swallow now,” he told you, and watched as you did so. For a few moments after, you panted to regain your breath. Then you felt him lay his hand gently on your head in a surprisingly affectionate gesture as he said, “Good girl.”

His voice was so sweet, his words so arousing, you thought you might cum without even being touched. You could feel a pool of your own fluids gathering beneath you on the dais. When you moved, he would definitely see it. You reddened at the thought, but you couldn’t stop a weak smile from spreading across your lips as his fingers softly rubbed themselves into your hair. 

“Unfortunately,” he said as he continued to stroke your head, “you didn’t make me cum before I finished the apple.”

All at once his hand was gripping your arm and jerking you to your feet as if you were a doll. You cried out, your body still extremely sore from the night before, but he ignored you. With one savage motion he ripped the thin robe off you and tossed it on the floor. Then he turned you to face the low table full of plates and fruits, and threw you face down across it. You screamed when you felt the plates cracking under your chest and stomach, jagged edges beginning to poke into your bruised and tender skin. 

Behind you, Sukuna was on his knees, lifting your hips up and pulling your legs apart. 

“W-wait, please! Lord Sukuna! I’m still-“

You were going to say you were still wounded from last night, but the sentence died in your throat when you felt his cock shove inside your sensitive, not yet healed pussy. It hurt so bad it nearly took your breath away, despite being so wet, despite wanting him to fuck you again, but only after you had completely healed. But the worst was yet to come. 

When he began his brutal thrusts, your body scraped across the broken plates, slicing your flesh. You stifled a scream by biting your own hand, and went limp in his grasp, his strong hands gripping your waist to hold you steady. Tears sprung from your eyes, and you quietly whimpered as your body was thoroughly used. 

You felt him lean over you, the silk of his robe and the firmness of his torso pressing against your back, and then his mouth was at your ear, his maddeningly smooth voice whispering to you, “Don’t hold back your screams. I already told you, I’ll allow it. Make noise for me.”

You moved your hand from your mouth and let the sobs and cries rise freely into the room. Then you were crying out words: “Lord Sukuna, it hurts! It hurts it hurts it hurts!”

Your face was pressed to the table, so you couldn’t see his expression, but you were certain he was grinning. You could hear the pleasure in his voice when he asked, “What hurts?”

“Th-the plates are… cutting me!” You gasped out the words between whimpers. 

“Oh? Anything else? Don’t hold back.” His amused tone made your tears fall harder. 

“You! You’re… hurting me!”

“Which part of me is hurting you? Be specific.”

You sobbed again, trying to form words but struggling to focus on anything besides the rough cock pounding into you. With great effort, you managed to cry out, “Your… cock.. is hurting me!”

He leaned over you again and said in a low and sultry voice, “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how it hurts.”

You were struck again by how needlessly cruel he was, how much he was enjoying your agony. You knew you had to answer him, so you forced the words out of your mouth. “Feels like… you’re ripping me open!”

He was still leaned over, his toned chest grazing your bare back as he kept thrusting. Then another whisper in your ear: “And which is hurting you most? The broken plates, or my cock?”

Your mind was turning to mush. The pain, the feeling of wetness under you as your blood mixed with sticky fruit juices and your own arousal, Sukuna’s sensuous voice in your ear, it was all too much. “You… you hurt me the most,” you said weakly, losing all strength. 

If Sukuna replied, you didn’t hear it. Instead he gave one more incredibly deep thrust, burying himself inside you, and came. After he pulled out, he rolled you onto your back and looked down at you, his eyes raking over your cut up skin and then settling on your face. 

*******

Sukuna looked over the broken offering sprawled on his table and wondered, not for the first time, why other people had to be so weak. She’d been reduced to a bloody, crying mess by a good fucking and a few broken plates. Pathetic. 

The cuts on the front of her body were shallow, barely deep enough to draw blood. They wouldn’t even leave scars. They probably did hurt though. 

He stood over her, and she looked up at him with those glazed eyes, wet from crying, her prone, naked body quivering. “What? Not satisfied?” he asked. “After I gave you so much of my cum?”

That’s when he remembered that she hadn’t yet had an orgasm today. No matter, he didn’t care about pleasuring women. Only his own pleasure mattered. 

He started to walk away, but a memory from the night before blossomed in his mind: those desperate little moans, which had a strange musical quality, that she’d made when he was stimulating her. He wanted to hear them again. 

He got back down on his knees next to the table, and the girl shuddered and tried to scoot away, but she was too hurt or too weak to move far. He reached one hand down and touched her stomach, running his fingers along a cut there. She whimpered, and though her pitiful cries were indeed arousing to him, he wanted to hear her moans of pleasure now. 

Sukuna lowered his head and ran his tongue along the bloody cuts. The girl stiffened and went completely still. Her blood was delicious, so much that he was tempted to devour her raw in that moment, but he had more self control than that. He reached one hand down between her sticky thighs and used two fingers to rub her clit, enjoying the way she gasped and arched her back. 

“Ah… ahhh… Lord Sukuna…”

There they were, those little sounds that had haunted his ears since last night. He continued licking her wounds, running his tongue over one supple breast and taking the nipple into his mouth. With a gentleness that shocked even himself, his fingers massaged her clit. He could feel his cum and her blood oozing out around his hand. 

He looked down at her face and saw that her eyes were closed. Her face was tinted pink, and those lilting moans were escaping her lips. 

“Open your eyes,” he whispered. “Look at me.” He was well aware of the effect his voice could have on people if he wanted it to, and he’d certainly noticed the effect it had on her specifically. 

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, and he stared at her while listening to her shuddering, blissful voice. “Why are you always dripping wet whenever you’re near me?” he asked in a soft tone. “You can’t be the village whore. You were a virgin last night.”

The girl shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I just.. ahhh… feel like I’m…. ah… being pulled to you… ahhhhh!”

He applied slightly more pressure with his fingers while licking her other nipple, savoring the delectable taste of her blood tinged with sweet fruit juices. 

Her body suddenly went taut, her hips rising off the table and her weak little hands gripping his arm. “Ahhh! Ahhhhhh!”

She climaxed, clutching him like she’d done before. Sukuna had killed many a woman for merely touching him without his explicit permission, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t mind these soft, tender arms around him. 

Once it was over, she passed out again. He chuckled to himself. “Such a pitiful little thing.”

He watched her bruised chest rise and fall with her breaths for a moment before standing and removing his own robe. He wrapped it around her unconscious form and carried her to his bed, where he laid her on top of the covers. 

He summoned a shrine maiden, who had no reaction to finding him standing in his room completely nude. With her eyes downcast, maybe she didn’t even notice. 

“Bandage her wounds,” he said. “They’re not serious but I don’t want her to bleed when I’m not around to watch. When she wakes, give her whatever she wants to eat or drink. She’ll need to build her strength up for tonight.”

With his orders given, he went to find another robe and relax until nightfall, thinking to himself that he couldn’t wait to hear his offering scream again.  

Tag List:

@yourmumsthings @boogeysmoth

[granvarones]

is she a skinhead or is she not? why is she bald? why is she all about? these were the questions i remember people asking upon the release of the video for sinéad o’connor’s “nothing compares 2 u.” without any historical context, these questions seem odd, but with sleekly produced pop/dance divas like janet jackson and paula abdul dominating both radio and mtv, sinéad’s presence gave folks whiplash!

but in a matter of months after her mainstream breakthrough with the touchstone that is the single “nothing compares 2 u,” sinéad o’connor’s voice, presence and immense talent captured the hearts and imagination of millions around the world.

sinéad o'connor, one of the most polarizing, influential, and revered artists, emerged as a prominent figure in the music industry when her 1987 debut album “the lion and the cobra” achieved gold status in the US. the success softened the ground for her monstrously successful 1990 sophomore effort, “i do not want what i haven’t got.”

released in march 1990, “i do not want what i haven’t got” was launched by the emotionally charged ballad “nothing compares 2 u.” written and produced by prince for the family, a band he assembled, “nothing compares u 2” appeared on the family’s self-titled 1985 album. four years later, the song was reimagined by sinéad, who co-produced her version with nelle hooper of soul II soul fame.

released in january 1990, “nothing compares 2 u” became a surprise crossover hit amid a musical landscape of pop, dance, and hip-hop-oriented singles. the song’s success was largely due to o’connor’s haunting vocal delivery that beautifully expressed a deep sense of loss and grief that people feel when losing a loved one.

the accompanying music video for “nothing compares 2 u” brilliantly communicated the pain and anger that is accompanied with mourning. consisting mostly of close-ups of o’connor’s face, the video reaches an emotional climax towards the end when two tears roll down her face, one on each cheek.

sinéad’s version of “nothing compares 2 u” became her first and only #1 single when it topped billboard’s hot 100 for four weeks in the spring of 1990 and became one of the year’s most critically and commercially successful singles and propelled the "i don't want what i haven't got" album to 7,000,000 in global sales.

like many other artists, sinéad recognized the devastating impact of the AIDS crisis and used her fame and influence to raise awareness and compassion for people living with AIDS. in late 1990, sinéad participated in the groundbreaking AIDS fundraising album “red hit + blue.” her cover of cole porter’s “you do something to me” was backed by a music video that featured queer imagery and sinéad in a kind of campy drag.

in the decades that followed sinead’s global success of “nothing compares 2 u,” she was an outspoken and uncompromising activist advocating for marginalized communities, including sexual abuse survivors, LGBTQ people, and people living with HIV.

on july 26, 2023, the family of sinéad o’connor posted the statement, “it is with great sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved sinéad.” she was 56 years old. her hauntingly beautiful voice and emotionally charged performances that garnered attention and admiration from audiences worldwide will continue to live on. her audacity, courage, and advocacy have left a lasting mark on HIV/AIDS and LGBTQ history.

rest well, sinéad.

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

Jude Duarte Propaganda Post

“If I cannot become better than them, I will become so much worse” and then she did and it was so iconic of her.

okokok so she was so desperate to make something of herself and feel powerful that she stabbed herself in the hand to get a job as a spy. She took small doses of poison to build up an immunity. She tricked a fairy prince into giving her power over him than instated him as a puppet king. She fights with a sword and also her wits. Murder is her first resort. She's a human raised in fairyland (a dangerous situation) who became Queen. She's morally grey largely because her enemies are sooo much worse than her. She doesn't hurt people for no reason. She just has many reasons.

The favourite daughter (at least at the start of the book) of the guy who killed her parents and kidnapped her and her sisters when she was 7 (he was her half-sister's (fae) dad). He taught her how to fight with various weapons.

She wanted to become a knight in order to secure her place in the fearie realm as a mortal and earn some respect but took the opportunity to become a spy for one of the fearie princes (in exchange for immunity to faerie glamour) instead when he offered her the position due to her being able to lie.

When the prince she is spying for gets killed in a coup she makes another prince (the love interest and titular character of the first two books) swear himself into her service and sets him up as a puppet king (against his wishes) poisoning her adoptive father (non-fatally) in the process.

She later marries him to become queen but he banishes her right after.

She sneaks back into the palace by standing in for her twin sister during an interrogation (due to her being immune to fearie glamour while her sister isn't) in order to cover up that her sister killed her husband.

When her husband was turned into a giant serpent she contemplated binding him to her (basically enslaving him) which would allow her to keep her position of power, but she ultimately decided she couldn't do that and chose to kill him instead which turned him back (which she didn't know would happen).

"If I can't be better then them, I will become so much worse."

"I won't be horrible for the sake of my own amusement. That's got to be worth something."

"And if the serpent grows in monstrousness and corruption, if it poisons the land of Elfhame itself, then let me be the queen of monsters. Let me rule over that blackened land with my redcap father as a puppet by my side. Let me be feared and never again afraid."

[sapphosewrites]

why do kids all fucking suck

So first off, a little bit of housekeeping. I usually keep my askbox open to anons, just like I usually keep replies unrestricted. Due to the accursed post being over 16k notes and counting, I have changed those policies. So I'll answer this, but if you want to continue the discussion, you will have to come off anon.

Now, to your question: I don't agree with its basic premise. It is not true that all kids fucking suck. Children are people, just young ones, and so like all human beings they are sometimes wonderful, sometimes terrible, and mostly just average. They are not a separate species.

For why children sometimes say and do things we disagree with, there are a number of answers, but it largely boils down to the fact that they are learning about the world. I whine about children using the term 'unalive,' but I know they are doing so because they are modeling what older people around them are doing without much understanding of why it's done. (At least for the 8 year olds.) It's my job as an educator to help them understand what behaviors and choices are appropriate in different contexts. Despite the fact that I complain about it on the internet occasionally, I accept this is a very normal part of my job and human development.

Are children sometimes assholes? Absolutely. So are adults. Are some age groups worse socially than others? Sure, one hundred percent. In the United States (I'm not familiar with research in other countries), students in early adolescence experience a decline in cognitive empathy. They are literally less able to take on others' perspectives and need a lot of explicit instruction and modeling around socioemotional skills. That's part of why middle school is so horrible and rife with bullying. It's easy to say "oh, those kids suck," but that's not taking into consideration why this is happening. Many of them are transitioning from one type of school to another, with completely different rules and structures. Different parts of their brains develop at different rates, so they have adult-sized emotions and none of the adult ability to understand and regulate them. They have an increased awareness of the larger world around them and the ways in which it is monstrously unfair, their bodies are swiftly becoming alien and unfamiliar as they enter puberty, and they are trying to develop their social brain while everyone tells them socializing should not be their first priority. That's all really difficult to deal with! It doesn't excuse their behavior, but it means we as adults have to have empathy and understanding while we educate.

So, that's why children sometimes suck. What's your excuse?