#cross and epic do not belong to me

[security4314]

alright man its time to draw cross and epic passionately making out. 🙄

[sandeewithtwoe]

Have you watched that animation where Delta goes against Cross? If so, you should make a comic where Delta actually kills Cross & when he gets back home(omega timeline), Epic(and maybe Color) ask where he has been & Delta talk about how he basically kills Cross( tjdrf possible angst??? Tjz)

I cant write angst I’m sorry

Delta belongs to Animated Zorox

Epic belong to yugogeer012

Epic belongs to Jakei95

Ink belongs to comyet/myebi

Transcript:

Epic: DELTA BRUH!

Epic: YOU KILLED CROSS DIDNT YOU??

Delta: Huh?? Who???

Epic: My friend Cross! White coat with white fur? Scar on right cheek? Has edgy loner vibes?

Delta: Oh right!

Delta: YEAH I KILLED HIM SO WHAT??

Epic: WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! I THOUGHT WE WERE CHUMS!!

Delta: HE WAS LITERALLY ABOUT TO DESTROY AN ENTIRE AU TO STEAL CODES! ALSO HE WAS FUCKING PISSING ME OFF!!!

Epic: HOW DARE YOU!! DONT TALK ABOUT HIM THAT WAY!!!!

Epic and Delta: AAAAAAAAAAA

Ink: And then! They fight for hours, destroying everything! Colour eventually comes back and sees everything basically decimated, bla bla bla…

Cross: ???

[vanglaggle]

ignore how epic looks i forgot what he looks like . @m1lkt00th suggested this to me 👅

cross belongs to jakei

epic belongs to yugogeer

do not repost my art onto another platform.

[laiqualaurelote]

Making a masterlist of my Dead Boy Detectives fics, which I will be locking on AO3 soon.

in this city there's a thousand things I want to say to you (E, 4.9k)

post-canon fic in which Edwin has a sexual awakening courtesy of the Cat King and it blows Charles' mind, among other things (nicking this summary from @adventures-in-mangaland); seems to have accidentally manifested S2's First Adult Experience.

the saviour of the broken, the beaten, and the damned (T, 8.5k)

the time travel fic in which Edwin dies over and over again in multiple AUs as Niko tries to find him and stop time from collapsing, ft. Noir!Edwin, JazzAge!Edwin, Professor!Edwin, at least two different war Edwins, and the Niko-is-the-Principal conspiracy theory manifested through Apollo's Gift of Prophecy Dodgeball.

gig officially gigged (T, 13.8k)

the rock band AU ft. punk drummer Charles, classically-trained virtuoso guitarist Edwin, kawaii metal bassist Niko, and disgraced child pop star Crystal over the course of one epic gig; plus the prequel meetcute in which Edwin plays Welcome To The Black Parade on the King's Cross St Pancras piano for Charles.

The Katabasis Job (M, 23.6k)

heist AU! instead of becoming detectives, Charles and Edwin embark on an afterlife of crime. When the long arm of the Lost & Found Department catches up with them, they are made an offer they can't refuse: earn their freedom by stealing from Hell itself. (I cannot believe I planned a whole heist around Dante's Inferno. This fandom has made me do crazy things.)

season of mists (T, 9k)

the bookshop/coffeeshop AU, Edwin is a bookseller, Charles is a barista, it's October, I'd make a joke about 'no time like fall to fall in love' except in the UK one says 'autumn' so I resolutely refuse to make fall puns. This is the cosiest goddamn thing I've ever written and @dont-offend-the-bees made the most beautiful art for it, some of which I append below!

still my heartbeat with your bare hands (M, 4.8k)

Bruv, tell me we still know how to speak of heroes! this is a Beowulf AU. (And I thought the Inferno heist was bad.) Charles is looking for a hall to belong to, even if that means slaying a monster to secure his place. Edwin has some noise complaints.

also here is a tiny workplace comedy AU where Charles and Edwin are co-workers in the Afterlife department. It was meant to be enemies-to-lovers but tbh the enemies part lasted like five seconds

I did not expect to be in fandom this year, and this whole thing has taken me by surprise - but oh, it's given me so much joy and solace to be here.

[holylulusworld]

G & CSP (4) - How to become a villain

Summary: After Steve messed up (aka talked to some other woman) he tries to make amends and get to know you better.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Warnings: implied smut, a little teasing/making out, idiots in love

Written for: Winter Break Advent: Day 7 - Close proximity

Catch up here: Blurb (3) - The first fight

Goddess & Captain Sassypants masterlist

“Don't you just want to let go and have the bad girl, a villain for once?" You purr and run your fingers through his hair to mess it up a little.

Your lips brush over Steve’s. You breathe against him but don’t touch his lips. If he wants a kiss, he must beg you for it.

He’s the one giving in first. Steve cups your face and presses his lips to yours. He devours your mouth, making you gasp against his soft lips.

Steve smiles at the memory. You opened up to him even more. And now, you crossed a line. Your flirty banter and all the teasing ended in a night of passion. (According to you.) Steve would call it making love.

“So,” Steve clears his throat. He’s still not back in your good graces. (at least not completely.) You took it to heart that he ruined your fifth date fight in the park. 

The bench you sat on that day didn’t make it out alive. The same goes for the woman’s car, her apartment, and almost her dog too.

The last one was an accident! 

You tried to rip her handbag off her shoulder only to watch her dog fly off the roof. Of course, you saved the poor dog just in time. 

She didn’t get it back, though. Let’s say Carl got the dog he always wanted, and the woman is missing an accessory she loved to carry around in a handbag. 

“Goddess, are you still mad at me?” Steve repeats the same line he said a hundred times already. “Please forgive me for messing our date up.”

You glare at him. “That wasn’t a date, Captain Sassypants!”

“Our epic battle then,” he grins when you melt against his warm chest. “So, do you want me to make things up again?”

You quirk a brow and lift the silky sheet covering his lower half. “You really are a super-soldier, huh? I didn’t think it comes with a mechanic dick.”

Steve chuckles at your comment. “It’s not mechanic, doll.”

“I don’t know,” you move your hand to his crotch to feel him up. “Litte Captain Sassypants is hard as steel!”

He grabs your hand to place it on his chest. Steve wants to talk about a few things with you.

“You never told me why you became a villain,” he softly says while you are busy running your right hand over his naked chest. “Every infamous villain has a backstory. Don’t they?”

Crap. You’re not prepared to give him a good lie. The truth is, you had a huge crush on Steve and started to commit smaller crimes to get his attention. One thing led to another, and you ended up with a whole bunch of crazy minions, a huge mansion, and a name everyone fears.

"A villain is in control. I had enough of feeling helpless. All my life people walked all over me. I got treated badly because of my powers. I belonged nowhere. Not even Shield wanted me. So, I became a villain and embraced my powers and being different from others,” you say. 

It’s not a complete lie. Your life sucked, and you got used to being an outcast. Everyone overlooked you until you decided to impress a certain hero with your powers and the crimes you committed.

“I see,” Steve wraps one arm around your body to hold you close to his warm chest. “Every villain has a backstory then.”

“What about you?” You lift your head from his chest. “Aren't you tired of being the golden boy and perfect minion to Shield, the Avengers, and everyone else out there?" You rake your nails over his chest, causing Steve to shudder. “Don’t you want to break out and run away sometimes?”

“With you?” He smirks and looks at you in his arms. “Imagine, the mightiest villain and Captain America run off for their honeymoon.”

“Whoa, slow down!” You grunt. “I conquered your body to weaken your resistance and make sure my minions can wreak havoc while you are busy with other things I never agreed to marry you.”

“You will,” he shrugs. “I know you want to be a good person. You only need someone to help you see you’re not evil.”

“I enchanted you,” you hum to yourself. “I’m even mightier than I thought. I made Captain America lose his mind!”

“That you did.” Steve agrees to not lose the chance to hold you in his arms a little longer. 

You’re a good person, he just knows it. Every time you take care of one of your minions or save someone standing in the line of fire he sees your true self.

Sadly, no one before Steve saw the light in you. They tried to extinguish it or turn it into a raging fire.

“Good thing I live in close proximity to the Avengers Tower. This way, I can keep an eye on you, Captain.”

“You’re still mad at me,” he sighs deeply. “Doll, I told you this woman meant nothing to me. She didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Damn right,” you click your tongue. “I gave it to that bitch good. She will never try to get her greedy hands on someone else’s man-” You cough and try to play your slip-of-tongue cool. “I meant enemy.”

Steve poorly tries to hide the smirk creeping across his face. He nuzzles your hair and sighs again. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing.”

“Goddess.”

“I kinda stole her poor dog. Little fart is much happier with Carl.”

“Little fart?”

“I didn’t name the dog,” you grumble. “Carl did.”

“You know stealing is illegal. Right?” Steve tuts, letting the hero and goody-in-two shoes show.

You chuckle darkly. “Oh, I did more than steal her dog. Do you want to arrest me now, Captain?” While you straddle his lap and place your hands on his chest, Steve watches you with adoration in his eyes. “Hey, stop looking like a love-sick puppy. We are not here to make love! You are my prisoner for the time being.”

“Oh, please don’t chain me up in the cold cell again,” he plays along. Steve knows you don’t like to give up control or admit feelings. Weakness is not an option. You had a hard life and won’t be weak ever again.

Well, maybe you allow yourself once in a while to be weak when you are in his arms. “If you are a good prisoner, you can stay here.”

“Phew, good.” Steve watches you lie back down on top of him. “I feared Tony must come to my rescue. You know him. He’ll call you my girlfriend again.”

“I dare him!” You exclaim loudly. “I’m your master and made you my willing slave. Nothing else.”

“I know, doll,” Steve runs his hand over your back. “I’ll tell him so. Promised.”

“Good. We don’t want your little friends to come over and believe they’ll get my cookies or shit. I won’t share my technology or minions with them.”

“Goddess, I need you to tell me what you did with that woman.” Steve already knows you wrecked her car and apartment.

“She had it coming,” you lift your head from his chest to grin at Steve. “I think she learned her lesson. No one touches my archenemy.”

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans/all CEvans characters Tags

@sexyvixen7

@stylesismyhubs

@multisuperfandom

@mrspeacem1nusone

@fallenoutofrose

@denisemarieangelina

@rosalynshields

@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

@patzammit

@donutloverxo

@saiyanprincessswanie

@hinata7346

@selen-o-phile

@stixnstripesworld

@cevansgurl

@tenaciousperfectionunknown

@justile

@thegirlnextdoorssister

@automaticmiraclephilosopher

@babygirl-one-and-only

@danielle143

@peaceinourtime82

@angelmather1

@lilsizi

@thebaileybugle

@raajali3

@nekoannie-chan

@getwellsoontana

@broadwaybabe18

@lovewolfspirit

@wintasssoldier

@lu-zo-san

@liloxclu

@Fiercedeception

@wirdbeimaufhebengebunden

@djarinsstuff

@mochionly

@deansonlywife

@royalwriteroftheuniverse

@rogersbarber

@Pono-Pura-Vida

@evilunicorns4minions

@curlycarley

@lovingchoices14

@kandis-mom

[thoughtssvt]

guys can we agree that gojo is at least the EPIC: the musical's depiction of odysseus?

even if it's just to make it hurt 🥹

satoru, a man who was raised to be a warrior at such a young age. someone who had to make hard decisions for everyone and when he made a small decision for himself it had major repercussions that caused a snowball of misery for the masses.

"i'm just a man whose trying to go home even after all the years away from what i've known. im just a man who's fighting for his life, deep down i would trade the world to save my son and wife"

(song: just a man)

"i see a song of past romance, i see the sacrifice of man, i see portrayals of betrayal and a brother's final stand. i see you on the brink of death, i see you draw your final breath, i see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you"

(song : no longer you)

i wonder how many sleepless nights gojo had blaming himself for everyone's suffering because just once he wanted to do something for himself. when did he come to the realization-- the acceptance that his life wasn't his to live? that he was born to be used in every way possible, in life and death. he'd tried his best to build a group of like-minded allies but at the end of the day the only thing that could be his were the sweets he bought on the way home.

"how has suffering become so endless? how has everything been turned against us? how am i to reunite with my estranged? to i need to change? i'm surrounded by the souls of those i've lost. i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed. what if the greatest threat we'll find across the sea is me?

what if i'm the monster? what if i'm in the wrong? what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?

what if i'm the one who killed you every time i caved to guilt?

. . .

if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?

. . .

i lost my best friend, i lost my mentor, my mom, 500 men gone this can't go on.

. . .

i'll become the monster"

(song: monster)

all songs and lyrics referenced/quoted were created by and belong to jorge rivera-herrans

[buubonita]

dear buubonita,

i'm trying to get you cancelled (by who? idk :3) so most controversial utmv opinion GO!!! don't worry we won't judge (i say with the voice recording app open) (/nf but i like seeing other people's differing opinions :3333)

with sincere condolences, triglycercule

I guess it's: I don't like errorink???

And I'm not saying its bad, I'm just not interested in them at all. I think it's because I'm not really attracted to either character. I'm only usually interested in dynamics where I have a defined idea of ​​the characters that make it up. And they're characters that I like.

Ink isn't a character I think about often, although his whole concept is amazing, he just doesn't catch my attention at all. I don't know if it's because his interpretations have alienated me a lot or he just doesn't spark any interest in me. That's probably it.

I like Error a little more, but I only know a few things about him because I usually focus on other characters.

This is the same reason why I'm not interested in small niche groups either. I don't know the members well enough or I don't like them.From the Epic group, for example, I only know Epic! and I love Epic, I adore him. The little I've read of Delta, I'm sorry for those who love Delta, but I found it very boring (although his design is nice, I love the art they do) and I don't know Color well either (although I definitely like him more than Delta), except for some mutuals that talk about him, he's not a character I'm interested in getting to know outside of what my mutuals say about him. At least for now! Maybe I'll change my mind eventually.

Another hot take? I don't know, but I really don't like it when they put Cross in the Nightmare group haha. The man doesn't belong there and I don't care what excuse you put on the table for me. I am just don't buying it.

And this has to do with all the times I've seen him shoehorned into multiple fan works, and I just don't buy it. I don't like it, I don't look for it or consume it. Sorry! I love more the idea that he was there but eventually abandoned it and gets along badly with the group, except maybe Dust.

I guess I'm a pretty square person haha. But it's just a matter of taste and nothing more. It's nice to see others enjoying themselves from afar and I'm fine with that.

And please, if anyone is a fan of any of the things I mentioned I want them to take this as what it is: a personal opinion that is not meant to hurt anyone.

And if this bothers you by any reason that's okay, the block button is there for you to use, my friend! Curate your space.

[avillanappears]

godzilla x kong: the new empire

"For most of human civilization, we believed that life could only exist on the surface of our planet. What else were we wrong about?"

okay, I kind of fell off doing this, but we’re back! the best ever tumblr review series that’s written by avillanappears.tumblr.com! I came in not expecting much, but it turns out I really, really liked it, actually! I’m more pleasantly surprised than anyone, godzilla vs kong rubbed me very much the wrong way. godzilla and kong beating the ever-loving tar out of each other was fun, sure, but I have WORDS for the human stuff. I could fill a whole post with those, probably, but we’re not talking about that! we’re thinking good thoughts, about the one I liked!

it’s definitely a fun adventure film. hollow earth was a much more fleshed out setting this time, I loved the varieties of locales and creatures. giant, flying flamingo fish that shoot electricity? kong crossing a rickety bridge made out of the spine of a monster so massive, that it’s kaiju sized compared to him? this is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to see! it was fascinating seeing kaiju sort of “on their level”, in a whole giant sized ecosystem made for them. we got some of that in the atomic time of monsters by @tyrantisterror, and I think it’s such fertile ground to explore. godzilla’s flirted with the idea before in both its netflix animes, but this is them really committing to it. it makes my worldbuilding and specbio freak heart happy. we even got to see more hellhawks! I love those guys.

lookit that face

okay this is going pretty long, but anyhoo, I liked the character stuff too. kong was as lovable as always, you really feel for the big lug. even though he’s a living god the size of a mountain, there’s a real vulnerability to him. he’s just a sad, lonely guy who wants purpose and belonging.

he and suko had some kind of fast, but still very nice bonding. the human side was fun too, they fixed a lot about what I didn’t like from the last movie. jia had more of an arc going instead of just being “the one kong talks to”, bernie was a lot more enjoyable since they cut out the weird conspiracy theorist stuff, trapper was a fun guy. it was nice just seeing someone who loves monsters and weird nature stuff.

skar king surprised me with how personal of a threat he is, they really let him feel like a horrid, nasty piece of work. he’s more than just a big evil overlord, he’s a bullying control freak who wants everything his way, and it makes his wretchedness more tangible in a way.

shimo didn’t get all that much, but I love shimo. I love her, and I can barely even tell why, there’s just some kind of Vibe to her I resonate with. I think it’s how mythical she feels. the oldest of a line of gods, a great being of ice, controlled by a wicked devil….in fact it all felt very mythic. I appreciate that, I love it when kaiju works play out like weird mythological epics.

probably the most tangible complaint I can think of right now is that the godzilla stuff was pretty underwritten. it honestly felt like he was just….doing video game sidequests or something. like, it didn’t have Impact up until the very end when he finally meets kong and SPOILERS SPOILERS. and it feels a shame to kill scylla and tiamat off this early, I liked those two as unpredictable wildcards. with rodan and the others still mia, and two titans unceremoniously dead, it’s starting to feel like the monsterverse is sorta….flattening itself? now that kongs arc is done, I think we need to get back to a godzilla solo or two, flesh things back out a bit. but that’s for future peter to talk about, today we’re leaving things off on a high note. fun characters, dynamic locales, some great monster brawling, this one was a good’un!

godzilla cast monkeys into hell for their sins

[corruptinmyself]

If you pick ‘Other utmv character’ please comment the character!

Took a bit longer to post than I said I would whoops

It may take a while for me to learn to draw the character chosen but I’ll do it.

If other is chosen I’ll do another poll with the ones in the comments.

With ties I’ll draw both characters together.

none of these characters belong to me (except my as of right now unknown oc)

[makeadealwithdean]

makeadealwithdean's friday fic rec list - harringrove edition

here's a list of the fics i've read lately and highly recommend! these fics are not mine and belong only to the writers, so writers, as always, if you don't want to be mentioned on here, message me, and i'll take you off no questions asked! also, this list is special because i'll be focusing on just harringrove, and since several of these are camboy!au's, these fics are smut and 18+ ONLY, so minors dni!! (gif is mine)

camboy!au's:

"never gets old" - @brawlite & @toastranger

Rating: E || Words: 78k

Falling in love with a cam boy named KingSteve isn't the smartest thing Billy Hargrove has ever done, nor is it the most healthy -- but the good choice is rarely ever the fun choice, and Billy is all about living life fast and loose.

"Love Is A Sickness (And Lust Is Absolute Madness)"

Rating: E || Words: 25k

Steve snaps a pic with his hand around his dick, angling the camera so that the stream is visible in the back. He can’t help but stroke a few times before sending it, wishing he had the balls to just put his webcam to good use so SuckMeDead could see him in all of his wet, messy, horny glory. Realistically though, he knows that full-on cybersex isn’t something he’s ready for, not until— Not until he’s made sure this camboy isn’t Billy Hargrove.

"Ride The Lightning" - socknonny

Rating: E || Words: 12k

Steve has an epic plan to Get Back At Daddy after his parents don't embrace his new-found bisexuality. An epic, epic plan, inspired by his favorite camboy. There's no way this can go wrong.

"Not Your Prince (But I'm Your Pretty Boy)" - ImNeitherNor

Rating: E || Words: 10k

“Not desperate,” Steve told himself, staring at the page while heat crawled up his chest and neck. “So not desperate.” Which was a lie because he was getting a membership just to comment and view more videos of the guy with the pierced dick. He licked his lips and tapped his thumbs on the space bar, deleted it, and almost hit his forehead against his desk. It was a username. Why did it matter so fucking much? Christ.

others:

"Sideways" - robthegoodfellow

Rating: E || Words: 46k

On Friday, Billy terrorized his stepsister, harassed his crush, and got blitzed with the school drug dealer. And then it all went sideways.

"definitely better than being dead" - @dragonflylady77

Rating: T || Words: 3.5k

When Billy comes to, everything hurts. He keeps his eyes closed, even though the space around him feels dark, and slowly takes a tally of where it hurts: hands, sides, chest, back, feet too... He listens to the noises in the room and the regular beeping of a machine close by tells him he’s in a hospital.

"Cross Road Blues" - @weird-an

Rating: E || Words: 6.6k

Billy sells his soul to Steve Harrington at the crossroads.

"His baby" - @lovebillyhargrove

Rating: E || Words: 32k

After Billy's death his car comes alive and decides to take revenge on certain residents of Hawkins. (My note: BILLY'S CAMARO FIC, MY BELOVED)

"come back down to my knees, gotta get back (gotta get free)" - @hartigays

Rating: E || Words: 5.5k

Billy is like, really gross. Steve likes that. He really likes that. And honestly, what could it hurt to indulge a little? (This is flayed!Billy, btw)

"The Art of the Dick Pic" - @lazybakerart

Rating: E || Words: 4.8k

Steve gets shipped off to a military academy, yet his biggest problem is his lighting.

"silvertongue" - @the-copperkid

Rating: E || Words: 9.2k

It's a hot summer night, and Billy and Steve find themselves stranded in the middle of a flash flood when Steve starts getting Upside Down-related anxiety. There's, unfortunately, only one thing that's certain to take his mind off of it — but Billy assures him that it wouldn't be so strange if they did it together. Just as long as they don't touch.

"Bed-sharing, almost-caring" - Thei

Rating: Not Rated || Words: 11.8k

It's late, dark and snowing, and Steve would rather do anything else than drive around looking for Billy Hargrove. But Max asked, and he can't say no to those kids. Not after everything. He finds Billy at the quarry. Billy is not okay.

"Cherry" - @lazybakerart

Rating: E || Words: 58k

They’ve got ten minutes before Steve’s break is up and he has to go back to wishing for death with a smile.

"King of Diamonds" - @shieldofiron

Rating: E || Words: 4.7k

“What’s the matter, Hargrove?” Steve Harrington flings his bags onto the bed with a fucked up little grin, “Scared of the big bad bed?” Billy just glowers at him, for the five hundredth time that day. He should have known when coach said they were bunking alphabetically and some of the rooms would only have one bed, that luck would not be on his side. Billy shuffles on his feet, squaring his shoulders, “Get out of my way.” Harrington cocks his head to the side, “Is that how you speak to your King?” “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way.” “Or what?” Harrington's smiling in that vicious way, lip curling. (Or literally any part of this series, cause holy shit, King Steve)

"Rules for Survival" - @jad3w1ngs

Rating: E || Words: 5.5k

His first breath of free air had got caught in his throat however, because God may have allowed him to leave his old hell, but that was only so that he could be plunged into a new one. Sure, maybe he was being overdramatic, but the universe must have it out for him. Why else would he be roomed with possibly the prettiest, most infuriatingly sweet man ever? One who spoke about boobs and chicks and everything else enough to hammer home how out of bounds he was? One that he’d have to continue to pretend around. Billy’s other survival mechanisms had kicked in almost instantly. Unfortunately, the survival mechanism for dealing with his crush on his stupidly handsome roommate was apparently to be a massive asshole. Every innocent comment, every kind remark or offer of friendship was rebuffed with a snappy or bitchy quip, ones that had him groaning internally each time they left his lips. Not that it seemed to deter Steve, if anything his eyes lit up whenever Billy threw an insult his way, which was odd because he wouldn’t have pegged Steve as a masochist.

"Locker Room Antics" - @mid-nightmare13

Rating: E || Words: 5k

Just as he was about to take another swing for Hargrove's face, Steve found his wrist caught in a large hand, his back against the metal lockers, and his lips pressed against another pair. He grunted, protesting for maybe ten seconds before he was grabbing Billy's hair with his free hand, and kissed him back. Kissing Billy was nothing like kissing a girl. It was a dangerous combination of teeth and tongue locked in a battle for dominance. And he hated himself for backing down. "I want to fuck you," Billy said against his lips before beginning to suck and bite down his jaw. Steve let out an involuntary moan, suddenly finding his jeans far too tight...

"Wild on You" - @oopsiedaisiesbaby

Rating: E || Words: 2.6k (series wc: 80k)

Billy startled when rather than fall to his own back, beside him, Steve tightened his grip in Billy’s hair and moved halfway on top of him as he reconnected their lips. (this whole series actually is amazing, 10/10 recommend)

"if you don't like the company, let's just do it you and me" - hoppnhorn, @the-copperkid

Rating: E || Words: 9k

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” Billy tuts, and it’s nearly sickening, too fucking good, the way he looks like he can think of nothing better than digging his teeth into Steve Harrington. “Look at you. What’re we gonna do with you, huh? Tell me what you want, pretty boy.” * Steve is really fed up with walking in on Billy having sex in his bed, until Billy’s opening up the invitation to him, too — because like, if you can’t beat 'em, join ‘em, right? But see, three's a crowd. And Steve doesn't like to share.

"break up with your girlfriend ('cause i'm bored)" - @the-copperkid

Rating: E || Words: 15k

@umissedconnections: Bambi eyes. m4m. i was rippin cigs in the sae p-lot. u made urself puke 2 make room 4 more beer. incredible? ur my hero PLS say ur into guys * Steve finds he has a secret admirer who's continuously hitting on him via his university's Missed Connections Twitter account. // Tommy and Billy are the worst roommates ever.

last time's list || my fic rec masterpost || my masterlist

[azureashes]

The Queen of Curses

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

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

18+ Minors DNI

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

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

„Serve?“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted to be something to him. Anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if Sukuna had such things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prepare a bath,” Sukuna frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You dare complain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so, you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You.

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

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

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

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

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

Good.

He was far from done with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were you his weakness?

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

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

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

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

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

This was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was nothing you couldn’t take.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he tore through the walls of your womb.

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

Sukuna did not stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something was wrong.

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

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

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

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

The temple had not been lying to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Power.

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t feeling merciful.

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

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

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

Tch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like a cum-drowned mouse.

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

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

“Don’t forget that you are my whore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew this, of course.

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

[trudioli]

After a long day alone with the Doctor, it is good to unwind with a friend. By watching anime and forgetting the world around them.

rambling down below

This is just some of my head cannon for Leviathantale. 

Since, in most stories Cross grows up extremely excluded in a Lab facility under the watchful eyes of Doctor XGaster, it gave me some ideas.

While XGaster is by no means a good person, I believe many of his personnel are or could be. 

Cross is probably raised by them. He is taught how to read and write by them, what is good and what is bad (plus to be always obedient by Dr. XGaster, but that is a can of worms I don’t know how to open). 

Of course, some must have realized the mistreatment that is done and tried to do something. Perhaps they tried to talk to XGaster, perhaps they even tried some more drastic measures. But they all failed (because of technical difficulties, the facility being too far inland, making the transportation of a Mer logistically nearly impossible for a breakout, they are found out, can’t persuade Dr. XGaster, etc.). Those people are quickly removed from Project X (e.g. fired), while Cross never gets an explanation as, to why they never came back.

Additionally, I believe XGaster cannot create a good work environment, putting his workforce under high pressure and always expecting perfection. Resulting in a high fluctuation.

So Cross grows up in an environment, which is always the same, while not having a single Constant (except perhaps for XGaster, but that is not a good thing) 

Leaving Cross with strong abandonment issues.

However, many times especially the deemed invisible people, the cleaning person, who comes by in the late hour, the janitor fixing the light for the third time, the security personnel doing their last sweep, etc. are the ones that help Cross with the isolation and imprisonment the most. Which is kind of ironic. He is always surrounded by people who have a deep scientific interest in him. But the ones who truly listen are not the ones studying him, it is the ones who shouldn't care at all.

I believe Epic could be one of those invisible people. Epic works as a janitor at the Laboratory and counts as Cross closest friend. They bounded over their shared love for memes and anime. He often smuggles some chocolate with him, for their late-night marathons, during Epic should actually be working, Ahem. But as long as no one knows about it ...

Anyways, I think Cross became, with Epics help, of course, a hardcore Bleach Fan. The Dude uses (used?) an oversized sword as a weapon, which always reminds me of Ichigo’s first sword (Bleach's main character, for those who don’t know). 

I’m just stuck with the image in my head of Cross silently whispering “Bankai” to himself whenever he summons his sword.

Excuse my English, I'm still learning.

Leviathantale belongs to skumhuu

Cross belongs to Jakei

Epic Belongs to  yugogeer012  

Undertale belongs to Toby Fox 

[ask-utmv-shipkids]

Not necessarily about the kids, but how do the parents balance out all their families? We have Errink and Drink for example, how does Ink manage them?

Each character has their own way of raising and "raising" their children.

In summary. They manage to take care of them without much complication, others help each other, and others prefer to evade responsibility and leave them forgotten.

Ink takes care of Paper Jam, Gradient, Spilled and Ekon. He also often visits Palette, Blueprint, and Bluescreen.

Dream takes care of Palette, Shine and Shade. Along with Cross takes care of Lux, Starcross and Hope.

Cross usually takes care of the three of them, but apart from that, he can pay the attention that Ink doesn't give to Moku. Together with Epic takes care of Starke.

Swap will take care of Blueprint, Splatter, and Sprinkle alongside Papyrus and Asgore. He will occasionally go to Outertale to say hello to Starway.

Outer takes care of Starway most of the time. And he takes care of Deneb together with Science Sans.

Reaper and Geno take care of Goth, Raven, Sorell, Silver, and Shino without a problem. Cassis often spends time with the five of them as well.

Fell and Classic Sans take turns taking care of Plum and Dedge, despite the latter being Dust's son.

Dust takes care of Kenza. From time to time he takes turns with Swap to take care of Sprinkle. And Horror helps him with Okse and Glasses.

Finally, Killer is in charge of raising Crescent, Angst and Merciless. Nightmare only trains them to serve as his weapons. Horror and Dust are their "uncles" and are also in charge of them when the other two are not around.

Nightmare, Error and Fresh don't care about children. Nightmare just takes advantage of them. Error tolerates them, but he would rather destroy them than take care of them. Fresh is a liar parasite.

As for Lust... We are not talking about Lust. Please keep the children away from him, as far away as possible...

Radier, Tenpatch raised themselves alones. They spent their childhood together with Nightmare until they were old enough to take care of themselves. They sometimes visit Error.

Those are the entire list for now. It is probable that in the future I will make comics about the childhood of each child, for now there are advances on my AO3 account. I'm still thinking about adding Rurik, but I don't have enough information about him. Only he was raised in Underfell by Fell Ink.

None of the children and parents belong to me, they all belong to their respective authors.

These are all my own headcanon trying to assimilate to the real canon. If there is something wrong or that any author would like to mention, feel free to correct.

Autors:

- Aftertale, Error and Fresh: @loverofpiggies

- Reapertale: @renrink

- _____tale(Ink Sans): @comyet

- Underswap: P0pc0rnPr1nce and the AU Community

- Dreamtale: @jokublog

- Undertale: Toby Fox

- Dusttale: @ask-dusttale

- Xtale: @jakei95

- Something New(Killer Sans): @rahafwabas

- Horrortale: @sour-apple-studios

- Underlust: @nsfwshamecave-pb

- Underfell: Fella

- Epictale: @yugogeer012

Other authors that are involved through Combos: @nekophy, @echoiarts, @pepper-mint, @askcomboclub, @7goodangel, @lasserbatsu, @shigxx, @kakimochi0820, @6chimeraqueen9, @lunnar-chan, @naomiisenju, @Moomy's Noodraw, @nimaruu.

I don't know if i'm missing anyone, pls tell me in comments in that case.

Sorry everyone for the tags, just tell me if you don't want to be tagged or don't want to be involved, I'll respect that.

BONUS

joking aside

[nightguide]

9 WAY THEORY BIAS: BOWIE'S RELATIVITY (SOUND + LANGUAGE) BUENA VISTA DUBAI INTERNATIONAL

(I GIVE NAMES OUT FOR ANYTHING THAT SOUNDS LIKE 'THE END' JUST BARE YOUR MIND ABOUT THAT)

THERE IS NO ANYTHING WITH THE WORLD'S WORST COMING ON THE WAY YOU'RE MADE OF PEACE TO LIVE BUT YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO FEEL LIKE AT YOUR PRIME OF YOUR CHILDHOOD WITHOUT AN EXCEPTION

ACTORS HELL: OBLIVION (DAWN OF THE DEAD)

actor's hell: your reason is in touch with the inspiration of that certain chord that made you believe

you'll never notice why but just is (middle finger to textile students across the UK for dumb expectations of a garment that will never work out to mental symphony (feeling over mind is how you knew why but the latter is working under somebody else's way of believing is how you'll never reach the grading criteria)

harbinger's: why is that relevant to you by imitation is how you'll believe in stronger theories of you being that reason to live than being lived under a 'cocky expectation' elsewhere (your wonder)

maestro become: tell your story, even if it's not even relevant that you'll make it because Hollywood of anywhere believes in you til intuition becomes a lonely company and you made it

dante's paradox: shut the fuck up and live it (your eyes tell reality by the ordinary, it's okay to lose)

judgement day: now, you don't think there is a two-way system in doing than you making it 'out there', like c,mon. the first ever Doctor is a desi woman with a boundary against the patriarchy is how you'll never know what you'll live for except you made it that far to believe in your own world working for you than against you (you seen your mom on TV and 'called that' quits and walked away from your world like you knew PTS- and that's why i'm here ; )

gaiman's hell: your hands don't work you, but you do (who are you and why) there are no excuses but love, no denial except hope, no dreams except being, you're better than anywhere but the latter is in the obvious reason you were never made to be a medical student believing you 'owned' everything (and guess your enemies now your white friends (now desi) tells you they'll straight away beat up the reason for you to succeed cuz it sucks to be you (you know you made it when there is a cross-realisation between cultural defects is how 'that one culture' who never stands up (food mecca) actually does and Keanu Reeves gives up his role 'as the greatest man alive' falls upon you (you KR now) and they stand up with you like he on a repeat (the mantle of KR) and wonder how lazy he is and exactly think why he is not made to be 'the reason of your resilience' is because you share the same hatred of a Loviatar

babylon unbroken: epic themes dont have anything in common with you, you're made to

NOW WHAT DOES THAT REMIND YOU OF

kingdom come: STAND UP TO THAT ONE MANGINA YOU HAVE IN THAT GROUP CHAT DISCORD EFFECTIVE IMMEDIA- (as the 11th doctor), you know.... i have some interpretations about a society i have to leave for (kisses his wife on screen), there is no diorama

yes.

i am

(moans) i lied

and now..... the tenacity within the world of what you knew is there, no such reason to belong or die is how you intuitively knew an end to intuition to an image prevailed by hope that that distinction is not even there for you but the beginning is how you knew me

where was i.... (laughs), where were you *glances up at light like a starstone* and fortuna hits the glade... i wander

some sexuality you have that's yet to go is not for me but towards yourself, i have no bones inside my soul but made, then WHERE WERE YOU, PRISONERS I SOUGHT OUT FOR YOUR DEVICES MADE ME WHOLE BUT UNCOMMON, EYES. THAT SEARCHES THE DEEP BEYOND THAT MADE ME IN ANGUISH (kisses 11 too hard to remember), i have no light except he... do you... remember?

so the suns lay down on the foreigner stadium tonight at red one and i cannot tell my dreams more (thanilovedgettingyourcockoutsideinbutyoutellmemore*winks at 11*thisismyworldnow, ha!. ibetyou to it *followed by 11 reverbed breath underneath scar and soul to emit no glance but a thought) that's what you wanted? aren't you the man.... i breakmy.... fast

Linna XIX, *stops to assure a smile not even a host can see*

pythagorean theorem: take it back... sexually, just don't go... there. make no demands but please, expect an audience, but dry out your last consolation over a new eden (i ended him desperately to take it all back for one man to light up an empire, soul for seoul. no man lives alive to see you crying the next day)

HARBINGER'S: MAKE AN IMPACT OF YOUR WORLD (LIFE FOR LIFE IS AN ORIGIN BETWEEN YOU AND YOURSELF IN A CHILDHOOD THAT CAME BACK TO YOU BUT YOU NEVER WERE)

actor's hell: whatever you did, you died for it

harbinger's: who are... they to you, you're lucky i debuted it to you (actually the first ever appearance of the 88th doctor) salaam wa alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatahu! nice to see you believing in an old school method of the word 'alien', now i don't forgive you (common hero: why?) don't teach me but leave me wondering (your biggest enemy is you) i dont care, but you love me anyway (someone calls me Madonna and i am made about her for her is her but nonetheless, she lived long enough to see me grow): not even my teacher but made the world for her that i never seem to come to man but me (not even my story but her fanfiction) honour that (i never wrote any but lived it)

maestro become: stop acting like you're dying and do it straight away (some military side of you is there, get your ass back to work)

dante's paradox: you're gonna lose your passion life for this to make you (every hero's best case scenario is coming back to your world like that: god level: university unbroken (you wanted to be the greats there but it never worked out so you have a 'bitch' in mind to settle that score cuz your patience has blown a fuse into believing (like your world burned and ended there when nazar hits you like a lego to your foot but you knew exactly that time and space ripped itself apart when a part of your toes have a core memory that you felt ultimately badass in getting a bruise for your stubbed toe... like that is how a specific moment in time and space you remember watching a tv/movie show that felt your agony rip itself apart like you enjoy their shit more than everything in the world combined (to me.. i believe it was shaun of the dead that made Frost and Pegg undeniably go after the same cause for cautionary tale that got now, Bill Nighy convinced that he's the one who screwed up all time and space for one stubbed bruised pinky (legendary reason to make 'more' for the cause of it 'since the hero element' comes back from the dead right there, you're british arent ya.? yeah. well. we don't like being told what to do (and you knew who fucked up from there cuz that's how i got here telling you what) not even your day, Nighy (jokes, seriously that or make another fairytale retelling of the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy making 43 now the fucking light and love of the world)

judgement day: *live action and you look like dis*

gaiman's hell: .... your YAOI, AO3, fluff, like the list goes on (and i know you wrote it), now which ones... no... you made it.... you live it

have you been inspired by a feeble lesson from the amazing world of gumball, lately?

rusteze

surely i do

okay, now i know a group that got the hit (actual personality)

miley cyrus fans: *hates everybody but themselves for a cause (actually the ones who got famous from years 2017 - 2024*

selenators: *the ones in witchcraft but also the one's who are too heartbroken to cause their fanfiction to be based on glee (tv show) instead, later now than never *knows the oncoming of the 'dajjal' is pure but give her a.... and she's dead* their fanfic are lost (hence why i damned her on the blog)*

lovatics: fan fic gods. (caused the crack on 11's timeline maturely (fanatics purely like TWD is based about her fandom causing Andrew Lincoln to find his partner the entire time like groundhog d-day)

that's the disney trinity (should have never been formed in the first place by intuitive oblivion)

you were not distracted but led by music notion (one of those 3 will make or break you)

i was a Lovatic once upon a time

now who were you and why did their story kill you on purpose?

babylon unbroken: who did it to you (now get up) (your theme starts with passion agony to be but you knew the answer in the end coming from a... 'X') now find that reason to win harder but be okay with losing what's nothing left to give

kingdom come: faith is stronger than the will to be (do what's necessary to hate for no reason (your energy is you)

pythagorean theorem: *find that* and you knew. don't find that if that means your intellectual gameplay is stolen mercy to your... exactly how you died

MAESTRO BECOME: WHY YOU LOVE IS WHY YOU DIED (it happened), NOW WHAT IS MERCY TO YOU AND TELL US MORE (SPEEDS OF A..) ENDING

actor's hell:

this is your love for god not knowing you (how you were deep overall is there) you knew how (i'm Lancelot's ascendant of Guiniverean Britain now)

harbinger's: sleep with the dream (your second chord from the bridge alienates spontaneity of that world you knew you lost (whatever Gallifrey is to you is that you're on it, it was never called 'Earth') so... no blood. you're not from here (and you know your ghost)

maestro become: why did you lose?

dante's paradox: TELL ME WHY (you're a villain there) make nothing happen (let it stay that way: me to Stardust is how i let people die for that reason to be (married to Tristan in real life)

judgement day: why did Neil Gaiman hand you that thought (perception broken is him being inspired by you: Bowie's revelation)

gaiman's hell: damned. lost hero

babylon unbroken: why did you ask me for help? you knew i killed (i accept as fini mortem, now why did you damn me out of oblivion (which is why you're in hell and i'm awesome)

kingdom come: i hate time (make that up)

pythagorean theorem: you discovered and you have an immortal enemy (mario bro's logic is you now)

DANTE'S PARADOX: *ON TIME IS YOU HEARING ME RIGHT NOW WITH THE FEELING OF... AND GET THE FUCK OFF MY PLANET*

actor's hell: what i love about the f major ambient pad revelation on Madagascar, it's not just the world i felt like i'm at peace with (to hell with being a neuro-divergent particular) i have no sense with wonder if i knew the ending like i am a neuro-typical than me saying 'i am Allah' which is how i was convinced in a therapeutic dispute much later in life to feel my veins screaming 'more' when having sex (which you only have eyes for) which is how i knew how i know my enemies, but i know now that i am not going to die for 'insert here the much lesser version of death be told is that to you like you never were (you met somebody who existed in that same fandom you were purely out of control for: you're love and she's hate but you have a forlorn history that is never there but she collected your eternity to lose a friend (burn that thing now)' and that's where their death is your success, not like the touch tones i have with colour is why she joined a shitty animal course to 'make you' than having sex to her is watching multiple crime shows and one zombie confession is her making you a zombie on TWD to her being so out-of-apparent to you being on Madagascar for free (her porno refuge) is seeking Ben Stiller for help (and it got cringe for her right here) and there is element to colour (obsession gone rogue) which is how i found my passion within the arts i once were for fashion (my eternal refuge of sacred virginity), like no such girly repertoire for me i find too hard to get when i knew i loved it (than the latter), so i knew mercy died within my bedroom but no wonders is that i'd find you looking at me (and how i say 'nothing is last' and tell me more is how i find my one last man chancing the same introduction to a hynotist reality) and you knew i did it all for love (and i degraded it) and made no wonder for being alive and i saved it (you heard his theme), he talks about a night and reason (why you're hearing my theme) and relativity to it is that my fanfictions was not even there or written for me when i was made that i wanted to believe in a concept design of that i am (i accept all notions of creativity that is which is why i chose to 'be with him' though my eyes may not) and i choose to wander, there is no relevance to him that he is an enigmatic science teacher (who i became) that i loved how he spoke to me by aesthetic mysteria (him to me personally why i loved the default upcoming of him that i dreamed he is)

and mis-endowed

well.... i have a type

not personally (blushes), so that i may hide... or that i seek fiction (no such thing as crushes) but i seek the wander than the odds that i may meet the median by him believing in stronger intuits to fight real time glory (everybody's pleasure) than saying the worst case scenario is him back at me but he will never end (why he was there)

so i had fanfiction but i said no (gen-z craves that shit to deluxe that even gen-x's love to read that shit elsewhere since they made those sub-divisions to alter ego hypnotise the world by purity (your erotic truth is there but you'll never do but glorify) hence why the wonder is lost with all my body parts in the tune from Madagascar that had even Smith himself feel like there is a resonant glory in being an actor that a true time designer went into his aesthetic made for me (my Song relativity is his Rogue modernity)

and lest you keep up with the stars that even decades that role model influences that chased the same values as history as you being there in real life and you were once thinking of world wars happening and sold for souls that even the.... bias of time against a....

jews?

are they evil?

everybody likes a good guy...

but

nobody likes you

are you.. a jew?

wait.. no.

okay, the chase is in the arts (Smith's passion and death for a_

Wintour intuitive bias

that's my stronghold, heck i even call her grandma (my mommy's side granny is like sugar)

i love her way too much that i never see her except seeing her was her loving me right back

and that's why i get my heart from, she is alive with the sound of why Vogue went everywhere (fashion gone immortal is you) and why i got to be my relevant psyche in space that i am so good at what i do that i got her world for free (Spice Girls also knew the time of the doctor is well into the world of my own home (my own Wintour)

and that's why i love you

harbingers: set them all up for success: you sucked at

a. breathing

b. believing

c. forgetting

now pick your music video vibe genre of ingenuity

so mine is, 'men who vibe at dying at the same time as living but gets to walk on buildings for fun like they got nothing left to tell you that they knew a ___ gomez adams malfunction leading to the death of rare beauty cosmetic prescription ideal to face Keanu Reeves dying at all times and it was there which is why they had little but to no less fame of his level of being a god he thinks he is (mf owns 9gag level of success)'

and they got a petty genre of their own doings which is why

a. they knew a selena but hated her for that so you compensated it by working to devil level hard mode spiderman level of consciousness by sleeping with her and making it all up for the vibe metronome (as seen on that one interview you blew your shit to cuz u knew that level of metalhead physics any God would do that Keanu can't *show him up*)

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 45 of Harrow the Ninth

So with all the like creepy tubes that someone said were reproductive-system-related, and the stuff with the pipettes and pills and slides, this makes me think of the first note that said THE EGGS YOU GAVE ME ALL DIED/etc., and if it really is Commander Wake that's haunting Harrow, is all this stuff just about conceiving Gideon? Is that most of Command Wake's post-death anxiety, not anything to do with BOE or their war with the Nine Houses, but just whatever had to be done to conceive Gideon? And then I guess Gideon the First (and possibly Pyrrha) are probably some of the people in these notes

So, this is the room that would have belonged to Gideon the First and Pyrrha, and I think it's clear that Commander Wake had something to do with them or some relationship with them or something, I would almost think at this point that Gideon's parents were Gideon the First and Commander Wake except that I've seen everywhere on tumblr that Gideon's dad is John, so maybe Commander Wake's ghost is leaving this room alone because it belonged to Gideon the First and she recognizes it?

It's true, now that we've seen what Lyctors can do, I think she could have done better, and maybe Harrow would never have figured it out. I wonder why she didn't?

It now occurs to me that there's one person who died in Gideon the Ninth who hasn't made an appearance here yet: Colum. What happened to his ghost? It was seemingly implied in Gideon the Ninth that he returned to his body in time to die in it, but maybe he is still off in whatever place he goes to when Mayonnaise Uncle siphons him? Did he not actually die?

So, in this cosmology that Abigail is suggesting, combined with what John said earlier, the River is more like Purgatory, or something, and the good souls cross the River and wind up in Heaven on the other side, whereas the bad souls are maybe weighted down and wind up on the bottom and go to Hell via the stoma? And Abigail says that people used to believe in this, but no longer do for some reason

I'm curious about this, but it looks like I'll probably have to wait to find out more

Really curious what about the bomb indicated that Crux specifically had put it there, or did they just assume it was him because he was the one who put them on the shuttle?

I like that Ortus, resident expert on epic poetry about warriors, gets that it's essential for Harrow's narrative to say that Gideon was killed by Cytherea so that she has an external person to blame for her loss, but that this takes agency away from Gideon and she wouldn't like it. Even when she didn't remember Gideon, Harrow seems to have been somewhat obsessed with Cytherea, even if it does turn out that some of what she saw Cytherea's body doing actually happened

So he did know about the Weekend at Bernie's stuff, and that the 200 children were intentionally killed, and so did his mother, so when Mayonnaise Uncle and his family talked with her revenant they presumably did learn about that, but for some reason he didn't share this knowledge with Gideon back in Gideon the Ninth and actually let her find about it from Harrow, which is interesting, maybe he thought that Harrow really was some cartoon villain and that if Gideon heard about it from her she would hate her? And I gather that Ortus was spared because he was the son of Priam's cavalier and they needed someone to be Harrow's cavalier when she grew up. And I also feel Ortus's angst here of "I left horrific things happen to these children and I was a grown-ass adult". I think I saw a post somewhere where someone was complaining about people saying that the characters in this book had been de-aged to appeal to a young adult demographic, which is not something I've seen personally, but I do think it's correct that this isn't mean to be a YA book or appeal only to that demographic, because it does also have these adult perspectives - in YA, generally adults are pretty useless and don't play much of a role in the story, but here you have Ortus saying this, and you have Magnus and Abigail trying to protect the Fourth teens (and now trying to protect Harrow) and you have Mercy being horrified by how young Harrow and Ianthe are

I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure Gideon never cared about the Ninth and did everything she did for you

This sounds more like a BOE-vs.-Nine-Houses thing now?

I'm wondering if they are going to use the candles in a more traditional way to do this exorcism, or if they are going to do some kind of necromancy with the animal fat? And I mean, Canaan House is covered in blood at this point, does that not work for making a ward of some kind?

[pjs-daycare-rebooted]

Hello! Welcome to the Daycare!

I hope you’re having a good day today!

First of all, thank you for making a visit here <3 we really appreciate it!

I’m the new owner of the AU “Pj’s Daycare”! Nice to meet you!

I always loved the idea of the universe (parents turning into kids, kids turning into adults and taking care of them 😭💖) and the designs too!

The original comic was discontinued so I plan on making right from the start! I’ll be rebooting some stuff like the age, personality, surnames etc.

I hope I’ll be able to turn this AU into a better one! (If I do anything wrong, please inform me personally since I can be quite distracted in excitement sometimes 😓 I’m sorry)

Side note: Any ships in this AU aren’t canon :’3 yes even the ones I ship TvT so please don’t start a ship fight😭 anything can happen :’D yes there are boundaries like come on-

——————

Caretakers reference sheets:-

(Still working of the reference sheets)

Paper Jam (PJ)

Palette Roller

Goth Afterdeath

Gradient

Blue Screen (Blue)

Fika Melonsweet

(Other additional characters will be added later!)

——————

Children’s reference sheets:-

(Still working on the reference sheet)

Sans

Frisk

Chara

Undyne

Papyrus (Papy)

Alphys

Toreal

Argore

Betty

Amber

Core!Frisk (Core)

Swap

Fell

Error

Ink

Dream

Nightmare

Gaster sans (Gin)

Science (Sci)

FlowerFell (Red)

Sugar

Melon

Dust

Horror

Killer

Reaper

Geno

Fresh

Lust (Lulu)

Outer

Cross

Fellswap (raspberry)

Alter

Bill

Epic

Dance

Gas

Outer

(Other additional characters will be added!)

——————

Other characters reference sheets:-

Cray Spray

Elys Francis

Raven

Arno Francis

Mafia

Furry

Sprinkle

Lux

Bullet Port

Blueprint

Økse

Deneb

Neon

Morgue

Crescent

Starcross

Lucid

Kuro

Mord

Haris

Molpe

(Other additional characters will be added!)

——————

If you want to know about more information, please feel free to ask on the askbox :3

That’s all, thank you for your visit and support!♡

————

Credits:-

PaperJam and Bluescreen belongs to @7goodangel

Gradient belongs to @askcomboclub

Goth belongs to @nekophy

Palette belongs to @lasseutblogo / @lasserbatsu

Cray belongs to @weezy-pup

Fika belongs to @missladytale

Frisk, Chara, Sans, Papyrus, Toreal, Asgore, Undyne, Alphys belongs to Toby Fox

Betty and Amber belongs to Camila Cuevas (I do no support her actions)

Swap(Underswap sans) belongs to @popcornpr1nce

Fell (Underfell sans) belongs to Undertale community

Error, Geno and Freah belongs to @loverofpiggies

Ink belongs to @comyet

Dream and Nightmare belongs to @jokublog

Gaster sans (Echotale) belongs to Yoralim

Science (Sciencetale) belongs to HolyTraitor

Flower Belongs to ???

Outertale belongs to ???

Reaper (Reapertale) belongs to @renrink

Dance (Dancetale) belongs to ???

Mafia (undermafia) belongs to @undermafiaz

Horrortale belongs to Sour Apple Studios

Killer!sans belongs to @rahafwabas

Dust (Dusttale) belongs to @ask-dusttale