#it’s a sacrifice that makes sense and he’s just that character and they did it right and I love that they did it but it still SUCKS and

[fanofstuff01]

Okay this post was originally supposed to be longer and going into more depths of the subject but I decided to separate it in parts. Because I cannot write that long of an essay in one day lmao

But anyway here's part one

Wohoo

Why Adam from Hazbin Hotel Not Coming Back In Future Seasons Doesn't Make Sense (To Me)

Part One: Logical Problems

Now this section, even though it is still my favorite in the parts, can be fixed easily if Vivienne just gives a logical answer to all of it. But it is just my perspective and what I saw from this show.

Let's get started yippie

-

A: Him not coming back contradicts the show in my opinion.

-You see, when Sir Pentious died to Adam's holy light, all the other characters react like they think he's one hundred percent gone. And it was previously stated by Vivziepop that sinners cannot die unless it's from an angelic weapon, otherwise they just respawn somewhere else in Pride hence why the exterminations exist.

So this implies that Sir Pentious died permanently here, from an angelic attack and then became a winner, in other words respawned in Heaven.

Then.. Why can’t Adam, someone who we know (for now) that died to a weapon designed to kill souls permanently, come back exactly Vivzie? This doesn't make any cucking sense for me. Why are you showing us that a soul can rise after being perma killed, but then treat as if the other Alex Brightman died permanently and now there's no way for him to come back?

-"But maybe they didn't know that Sir Pentious could come back, they just learnt that angels could be harmed. (Yes someone literally said this)"

Oh you mean these characters, who include the Princess of Hell and a literal ex exorcist, don't know about one of the core reasons why exterminations are held in the first place?

Suure.

-"You wouldn't be sad and attack the person who did it if someone killed your friend even though you knew they'd be back? Their reactions don't essentially translate to them not knowing about the permanent death thing."

I would and I can definitely understand them still being incredibly devastated and going feral about his death even though it’s temporary, but then why does the show treat Pentious' death like something these characters think is permanent? Why does Charlie refer to his death as “Ultimate sacrifice”? Hell, this entirely contradicts the sense of finality and sorrow his sacrifice had. 

And to add to both questions, why would Adam come to the exterminations with a weapon that doesn’t kill sinners permanently? Specifically one where he knows that there’ll be folks that will try to fight them and folks he would be more than pleased to wipe out permanently? 

-I know I sidetracked to talking about Sir Pentious more than Adam here, but since he is the only soul we know that changed the place he was in afterlife he is the most relevant character when it comes to this discussion about Adam in my opinion.-

-”We don’t know if angel souls are equal to sinner souls when it comes to this. Maybe the angels simply cannot be killed unless it is permanent, and the show actually hints at this given everyone thought that the angels were invincible.”

This is the only argument I can get behind actually. But it is not because it’s a valid one for the right reasons, it is the only one that makes sense to me because the writers were lazy on this too. 

Then what happens when an angel is harmed with a non-angelic weapon? -Also maybe off topic but what makes something an angelic weapon? We see Cherri Bomb throw bombs at them or okay maybe angelic bombs are a thing, but Charlie shoot-kills the exorcists with the fireworks that come out of her fingers?- Do they just.. Respawn? Or it just doesn’t hurt them? Then wouldn’t a character as smart as Vaggie would’ve figured out that they can very well be killed permanently if they are able to get hurt? 

Not answered. And it’s not helped by how the show openly portrays winners, which may I remind you Adam is one no matter how powerful he is, as the complete opposite of sinners, which would take you to assuming the angelic steel works like it does on sinners for demons. It just doesn't make sense to me.

And it wouldn’t make sense in the next section either.

B: Him not coming back doesn’t make sense in the story or the worldbuilding in my opinion

Just a little disclaimer, I’m not all means a professional media critic and do not say what I say here comes from that distinction. It's just me sharing myself lol.

Also I may use the terms incorrectly due to my broken English skills.

-Okay. So what is Hazbin about? Demons getting redeemed and therefore getting into Heaven for becoming better people, right? Also showing us that everyone can change and they shouldn't be seen as who they are at the moment and they all deserve a second chance.

At least that's what I get from the show. Now..

Why isn't the previously good now bad, being punished at the same level the previously bad now good is being rewarded? Why are you saying that becoming bad would give you an easy escape through death, while becoming good can get you to somewhere better?

Being on Hell is a PERFECT way to punish corrupted holy souls. Because you often become corrupted in the way of arrogance in Heaven, and now you're humored by the universe and by the people you used to mock and see yourself above as but this world's ways don't allow that.. Okay?

Speaking of, this also frustrates me on the world's mechanics and how they work. Sure, it can be that way, but.. Sorry if thinking about a "Divine Judgement" that makes you rise for being good but doesn't make you fall for being bad doesn't make sense in my book..

I can't express my point in this one quite well like I did with the other one but it just melts my brain dude. Like on one hand, on the positive hand, you're saying that if you're on the bad side you can change for the better and that's what matters, but you can't change from good to bad and have the same levels just negative and simply.. Die??

I just.. Can't. Sorry if this part is messier.

-

So this is it.

Will be multiple parts stay tuned ig

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 @beef-brisket

yea im delulu sue me

[lostiel]

veilguard spoilers about the ending

i just need to get this off my chest

SPOILERS BELOW IN CASE YOU ACCIDENTALLY CLICKED THE POST

specifically the ending where you choose davrin to lead the distraction group instead of harding which leads to him dying

when you go to davrin's room afterwards you get this line

which kind of makes you think he might be still alive right?

this is the most evil thing bioware did to me bc i sat through the full credits expecting a scene where blighted but very much alive davrin shows up in the end but!!! nothing!!! why include this line if ur not gonna bring him back!!!

i mean it makes sense to lose people in a fight but there was no body and barely anyone mentions him before the final battle so it's like they didn't give us any closure

it's just. you either fully commit to killing one of the main characters and make the player feel the pain of the sacrifice or you let them know how their companion survived

idk i just don't think what happens to davrin should be open to interpretation it's not satisfying and doesn't do justice to his character

[extensionallydefined]

Danganronpa V3 slander?? In my tumblr "For You" dashboard??? How did that get there? I gotta do something about this!

Alright before I tear into the shade thrown at v3 here, I would first like to say that the idea that dr1 and dr2 are criticisms of the justice system specifically is interesting and I hadn't thought about it like that exactly - Of course, they're games that deal with how punishment and crime are handled in a really small community, in very specific circumstances, but I hadn't connected it to punitive justice specifically. It's a very good analysis! Which is why, if the post was just that, I would be quite into it. But OP had to bring my baby v3 into it!

The argument being made here is actually kind of crazy to me. "The first two games in this series were about this thing, so the third one has to be about that too, and because it isn't, it's bad." God forbid franchises try new things! You know, one of the points v3 was making was that the danganronpa formula based on "hope and despair", like it was before, was running dry. But here's the thing: this point, despite what many claim, is not made in a cynical way. It turns around on itself and says "the formula is running dry, but it's final sendoff can be a love letter to itself." Let me elaborate.

Let's accept the claim that dr1 and dr2 are fundamentally about criticisms of punitive institutions. Great! See, the thing is, danganronpa v3 has aspects of criticisms of things, but it is fundamentally a game that wants to *uplift* something. Nietzsche said that, in his later works, there had to be a "yes" and a "no" - the Zarathustra was the yes, and everything else was the no. You could say that dr1 and dr2 are the "no", and drv3 is the "yes" for the danganronpa franchise.

Danganronpa v3's main themes are truth and lies. These manifest in multiple ways, like belief, trust, and identity.

These themes are explored through every chapter and character, much like how OP described danganronpa 1 and 2. The first chapter of drv3 is about an unreliable narrator, it takes the "truth and lies" angle and applies it to the pov character, showing how one deludes themself, through Kaede, Shuichi and the player. Chapter 2 takes Ryoma (who's trying to find something to believe in, something to keep him alive, but can't find it within himself once he discrovers the truth of his past) and Kirumi, who uses propagandistic rhetoric to try to get everyone else to sacrifice themselves for her. Chapter 3 deals with esoteric/religious belief. Chapter 4 and 5 take a theme that had been built up, belief in others and distrust, and take them to the extreme through Kokichi and Kaito, whose perspectives are sublated through Shuichi's character. And Chapter 6 is the culmination of all of this, one that I shall discuss now. But in the character sense, it makes them all deal with the fact that their entire personalities and memories have been crafted to make them how they are. They're "written characters". But that doesn't lessen their value as people.

I would say the word that encompasses the message of danganronpa v3 is, of course, "Fiction". Danganronpa v3 is a game whose final message is not a criticism: it is fundamentally about uplifting the power of fiction.

I find the argument that v3 "criticises something that doesn't exist" to be pretty bad faith, honestly. All of the danganronpas have unbelievable and unrealistic things in them: the whole thing about the tragedy and monokuma robots running around and the whole world being sent to hell by Junko is pretty unbelievable in real life, but we suspend our disbelief because we see the message behind it, we see the point being made. She played the system and fucked shit up because it was already fucked up in itself. The degree to which the world implodes is exaggerated and bombastic, but we get ir. The Neo World Program is also quite exaggerated. Just like the "Ultimate Real Fiction" is exaggerated in danganronpa v3. But that's the thing about fiction, isn't it! It uses scenarios that are not real to make points about real things. So, let's play the media literacy game, tumblr. Danganronpa v3 shows us an "outside world" that relies solely on killing game content for its entertainment. The audience accepts that a killing game could be done in real life and they are fine with it. What's the point here?

Without even getting into the fact that the nature of the outside world could be partly a lie due to Tsumugi's bullshit, what's important here is that this is a world whose sense of meaning hinges entirely on the killing game. And the characters of v3, despite that, still manage to make a change in this world. What v3 is saying fundamentally, is that fiction has the power to change people's mentalities, and that changing people's mentalities can change the world. V3 is saying: art can change the world. Art has philosophical and cultural value. Even in the most hopeless situation, this thing that is by all means "fake" is not devoid of meaning. Its fakeness shows the real world where meaning lies.

If you don't think that v3 is the best game in the series, that's fine, we can disagre. If you don't like that v3 is different to the other danganronpa games, that's fine. You're entitled to your preferences. If the themes didn't hit the spot for you, then that's really a shame, honestly. But don't pretend like it had to be like the other games to be something worthwhile. You can have your opinions, but when you make arguments to claim that a piece of media is bad and thematically bankrupt and I find those arguments to be fundamentally flawed, well, I have to bring up the counterarguments.

In summary, v3 is a really good game in delivering its message and themes, independently of their relationship to those of the previous games. It doesn't need to do the same thing as the prior games to have value in itself - and even still, through its purpose in uplifting fiction, it uplifts the previous two games too. It doesn't need to be about a real life institution that sucks to be able to change the world. It certainly changed mine, and I cherish this game despite its many flaws, which are not really relevant to this post.

Now since I sometimes can't tell I really hope the original post was serious because if it wasn't... lmao

my pet theory is that any danganronpa media worth its salt has to be a little bit about a corrupt bullshit orginization and how much it sucks. the first 2 games are literally about how the punitive justice system sucks fucking shit. first game shows this by every blackened having a Reason for kilking outside of "murder yaaayyy," yes even celestia, her desire for money is explained in depth from her free time events and how she grew up, everyone had a Reason. sakura's suicide was the result of societal punitive justice instead of institutional and how people who think their moral outrage is good bc its aimed at the "correct targets" will just end up hurting people. second game takes this even furthur and goes "in the first game, punitive justice was bad because all these people were victims of circumstance. can you keep those same morals when the people being subject to punitive justice ARE actual criminals of their own free will?" with the added part about the nwp explicitly being a rehabilitative justice program. kamukura's inclusion and honestly dr:0 as a whole since the whole catalyst was kamukura is just a little bit about how any kind of exceptionally smart child is propped up as Something Amazing and is basically forced to use that talent for the greater good despite any feelings the child themself may have about it or how stuck they feel or how traumatized or tortured they become in the search for and nurturing of that talent, and any child thats not that is constantly told theyre inferior to the former and Why Cant They Be Like That and are seen as lesser-than by everyone around them. ultra despair girls is also kind of about that with the warriors of hope and their backstories. dr3 and v3 fall short because they are not about that at all. dr3's future arc is a bit stronger than despair because it actually is about an institution that sucks and despair's feels too much like an interpersonal thing and All Junko's Fault when the whole point was junko just took advantage of unrest that was already there. v3 is about an Institution That Sucks however the institution is "what if you loved a murder game so much you made it real" which doesnt fucking happen. you can make approximations like comparisons to true crime, reality tv, and for a more specific example that squid game reality show. but they didnt even kill people on that. v3 is critiquing something that does not measurably exist and also it doesnt connect to even a single theme from the rest of the series. my other pet theory is that kodaka is scared of the number 3 and thats why the ones with 3 in them are like that

[mad-hunts]

so... i've been thinking about auriel again because i actually did have an account for her once upon a time (just on another platform) + all i can remember is doing this roleplay on there with barton immediately asking the person whom told him they saw her was whether she was okay because she had went missing with no trace for years after all. and additionally, this was also while shedding tears like there was NO tomorrow, which is 😭 like he isn't a good person, y'all, but he does have his moments where it actually seems like he genuinely cares about people

[lord-squiggletits]

Something I keep seeing when I speak to others about MTMTE Megatron is basically the idea that he's going on a personal journey to become a better person, that the point isn't for him to be "redeemed" but for him to get a chance to do good and die as a person he can live with again. That MTMTE presents a unique take on this because being away from Cybertron gives Megatron a chance to be a person rather than a political figure and this is how it gives him more depth as a character. Or just generally pointing out in a narrative sense that Megatron being in MTMTE limits his story options so of course his story is going to be more focused on a personal journey than on politics of him dealing with the Decepticons/Earth/etc and that just because JRO made a choice to take that path with Megatron doesn't mean that it's inherently bad.

And I'm just, mmm like I understand all of those points and acknowledge that they all contributed to the MTMTE Megatron we got. I even think that without JRO writing Megatron we wouldn't have had his lore be as fleshed out and 3D as it ended up becoming.

(Post starts out as a sort of meta analysis or at least me giving a reasoned explanation for my interpretation of the story, ends up being petty bitching in the last 1-2 paragraphs)

I just..... I just personally don't agree with the "he's becoming a better person by getting a chance to relax and experience happiness and trust after a life of trauma" as being the best choice for his character? Because the problem is that maybe if he were a random Decepticon foot soldier that would be appropriate, but he was literally the leader of the Decepticons that made them Like That and has political/cultural/societal responsibility for why things are the way they are? To be completely frank, I don't care about him going on a personal journey for self-peace, I think that he should become a better person by helping to un-fuck all the things he actually screwed up???

Like idc about the debate of whether he can be "redeemed" or if he should've been killed/imprisoned/etc at the ending. It just comes down to the fact that for me personally, I feel that since Megatron's wrongdoings were at a social level, him "being a better person" would've been better shown by him engaging with those people who he wronged instead of just going on a frigging personal journey for his legacy and self-peace???

Especially since in other series (exRID, possibly Windblade) we literally got plots like "the neutrals hate Autobots but they hate Decepticons even more" and "the Decepticons have been taken over by Galvatron and are now invading earth 2 electric boogaloo" and "yeah the Decepticons are literally living in slums because people hate them so much and won't give them any work." It just leaves me wondering why in the hell people are like, "oh Megatron got to be happy and have a chance to be a normal person." I don't want him to be normal! I want him to repay his debts to the people he actually wronged! Like if you want to cast Megatron as a hero of the people so badly (which so many of his stans do as if he actually cared about the Cons) then how do you reconcile the fact that Megatron just fucked off and left the Decepticons to suffer on Cybertron? Including some of them attacking during his trial and getting killed and Megatron is basically like "sorry, I'm not coming with you and this isn't going to work." And then Megatron complains about "toxic Decepticon loyalty" as if he didn't literally make them that way? Like I get that MTMTE Megatron is still an asshole but if you've read something besides MTMTE and know what the Decepticons are going through, it just ends up being really grating.

I just don't see Megatron as being a particularly good hero or having a particularly fulfilling story if he's completely isolated from all the bad things he did on Cybertron/the way the Decepticons are suffering until LL#25 where it's like "ah damn I'm going to trial now, well this is what I deserve so it's fine." Why could we not have seen something like Megatron trying to deradicalize the Decepticons or change their public image so they could integrate into normal Cybertron again? They were living in SLUMS and getting gunned down by Starscream's badgeless enforcers!

The best we got was the Functionist Universe but like.... I'm sorry, but JRO inventing a whole alternate universe for Megatron to save doesn't do jack shit to save or fix the people he left behind in this one. It was especially grating to read because JRO literally wrote in someone saying "you saved billions of lives from the Functionists" as if he was trying really hard to show how good Megatron is because he saved people (and also if not for Megatron existing Cybertron would be even worse and half of your faves would be enslaved or dead, also the Functionist Council was going to genocide organics too so technically they're WORSE than Megatron since they hate organics AND want to enslave their own race).

I read Barber's, JRO's, and MScott's series concurrently using the omnibus + a release order list for phase 3, and after all that I'm kind of puzzled why the fandom seems to ardently love MTMTE Megatron and think he's so well written but then also shit on Optimus for things that he did during the same points in the story? Because, and I know this is a blazing hot take, I honestly think that Optimus makes a better hero of his story than Megatron does for his, and Optimus' personal journey combines his personal and political identities into a narrative that's a lot more gruelling and questioning of his goodness than we got for Megatron in MTMTE. Which is fucking saying something considering Megatron committed crimes against sapient species and Optimus is the guy who tried to stop him from doing that and has always been pro-equal rights for all beings. But people pretty much just cherrypick things like Optimus annexing Earth or beating up Prowl and go "he's bad" and I'm like no??? IDW OP isn't a bad person or a bad character??? It's just that unlike MTMTE Megatron he's placed in a narrative that actually suits the nature of his actions and has themes that match. To the point that IMO sometimes Barber's narrative shits on Optimus excessively or paints him mainly in the most unflattering ways.

But like. It's just funny to me because Optimus spent his entire part of the story doing things like trying to stop Earth from being invaded/colonized yet again. Grappling with his identity as Prime and dealing with the fact that people literally worship him vs. the fact that his upbringing made him see the Primacy as nothing more than a facade of authority/leadership. Having people get mad at him for prioritizing politics over friendship/relationships with other people. Even getting shit on for being a cop a decent amount so people can STFU about IDW OP being "copaganda" or "not held responsible for his actions". The problems that Optimus dealt with were personal because they had to do with his self-doubt, culpability for the war as a leader of one of the armies, distance from his soldiers, etc. But all of these are also POLITICAL struggles. Because Optimus gave up on the chance to just be a normal person having personal struggles when he chose to become a LEADER, which also means that he's held to extremely high standards that he regularly fails at in the eyes of others.

That's why, to me, MTMTE Megatron falls flat in comparison and really as a "hero" or heel-face character in general? Because he also made a decision to be a leader, and IMO once you do things like become the commander of an army and start your own galactic empire, you lose the right to prioritize your personal problems and instead are obligated by the power you've chosen to wield to focus on your POLITICAL problems. If Megatron's power, influence, and crimes are of a social-political nature, then his heel-face turn arc and ways of showing that he's a better person/helping to heal what little damage he possibly can should have been shown with actions that help on a social-political LEVEL. That's why I'm not particularly impressed with his character arc and feel as if it was overhyped by other people in this fandom: sure, the extra character depth and emotion is nice, but I'm not really going to see him as extraordinary or even particularly good when the extent of him "becoming a better person" happens entirely on a random road trip to fuck-off nowhere. Especially not when the ending of LL tried to sell me a "they lived happily ever after" ending while basically leaving the freaking MUTINY as just Rodimus going "oh it's okay you're forgiven, we're all together again" and I guess everyone was fine with Megatron and wanted to spend an eternity on a ship with him just because Getaway died.

This is why I like (the concept/themes of) exRID/OP and the way Optimus' character arc was handled a lot more. Because for Optimus, the personal and the political were as one. He was held accountable for his actions towards others and the disruptive effects they had on a social level, sometimes to a ridiculous extent (the fucking "oh Megatron is an Autobot so now that makes the Autobots colonizers" plot and that stupid colonist screaming about how Optimus is "literally fascist" my beloathed). Even his very personal issues like his relationship with Zeta were still cast in a wider lens of, yeah this is a personal struggle that Orion faced, but he was still part of a Society TM and his actions were sometimes ill-informed or harmful to others. Even if I had a lot of problems with the way Optimus' story was written by Barber (plot holes, little meaningful character interaction, forced conflicts), at least the BASELINE of it was way better than Megatron's in MTMTE. Especially since Optimus' struggle was explictly about things like struggling with responsibility and how he feels he HAS to intervene in political affairs because has to save people/make up for his past mistakes. That's something that a good leader/good person actually does, so I found Optimus to be a better hero (even if his actions weren't all "good") because he was trying to be a good person by actually getting involved with Cybertron/Earth and subjecting himself to something he hates (leadership, war) and dealing with a shitload of criticism instead of just going on a fuckin "personal journey" lksdlkfsd.

Which just makes me extra salty that people hold up MTMTE Megatron as the pinnacle of Megatrons and literally the best Transformers writing evar! while turning up their nose and ignoring or outright despising IDW Optimus. Like okay. I guess since Megatron got handled with silk gloves on while Optimus got put through the wringer of being shit on by every other person in the story, it's easier for you to pretend that Megatron is a poor uwu boy who just needs friendship and love while Optimus is literally the worst bastard to ever exist. Or maybe it's just that since Optimus' story involves him sometimes fucking up, being criticized, or making things worse, that makes him morally bad. As opposed to Megatron who disrupted a lot of other characters' stories in MTMTE, had to have an entire alternate universe invented so that he could "save lives," and got to sail off on a quantum Lost Light happily ever after, so since he's happy and the story says he saved people that means he's a good hero.

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

With most people completing Traum already I feel like everyone just kind of glossed over Roland [REDACTED]ing himself. Which is…kind of the point but still

admittedly with me its a combo of not wanting to post every spoiler under the sun and liking some characters more than others. he was cool though, i did like him

at the same time its a very hard thing to talk about by virtue of what it is bc they kind of made it physically impossible to have literally anyone acknowledge after the singularity so while it was a cool moment going forwards we can't mention it like other defining character moments for other servants like in lb6, 5, 4 so on and so forth. while outside of the story we can...in story they 'technically' cant do that so its an odd position to be in when talking about it bc while it was neat its hard to argue it will affect things moving forwards because we dont even have records of it!

[purrgilinhyperspace]

Watched THE Rebels episode today and it’s so stupid that they kill beloved characters in fiction. There’s so many other ways to «kill» a character without actually killing them, and so many things they can do to a character that’s much more interesting. I don’t really get why he had to die, but I haven’t watched the finale yet so.

[akkivee]

someone on my feed has been talking about kuukou’s unwillingness?? i suppose is the word, to be in the spotlight, especially in regards to this fpmtr➕ chapter

like kuukou functions as if this isn’t his story, he’s not the protagonist of it; moving behind the scenes to ensure jyushi gets his chance to shine on stage and affirm himself, pushing hitoya out of the way to take an attack because he probably could sense hitoya needed to be on that stage facing jakurai, following ichiro’s lead and helping when he asks and it’s interesting to see it reinforced so often

[iamthepulta]

feeling romantic. fuck the AU and being productive I'm going to go write a bunch of westlijah

I have karoke in thirty minutes though. Today is just liveblog day so who knows. But tomorrow will be for Westlijah.

[cluescorner]

We need to bring back Gun Batman immediately where the FUCK is he

titans of tomorrow

aftermath:

[margle]

all of my favourite characters in the untamed have died.

[nopalitosx]

it's funny bc irt john's backstory, i actually keep thinking back to cristabel. she's the one who encourages john to be more selfish (and she makes a good point about why) she's the one who allows him to figure out resurrection. and post resurrection, she's the one who sets lyctorhood into motion.

like as a devout catholic, i had a strong reaction towards cristabel naturally, and it's so interesting bc like. i understand and to an extent agree with her actions, but ultimately she enables john and everyone else to be worse?

for me, That's the character i find most relatable. her faith has guided her every action, she truly believes she is working for the greater good, and is willing to sacrifice herself over and over in pursuit of it. and yet she ultimately makes everything worse. those are the mistakes i can see myself making. if i were in her shoes, not knowing what the future holds, just trying to figure out a path in the midst of chaos, i can't say i would do anything different.

[rainrot4me]

Whispers In The Trees

Summary: Prepped your whole life to complete a ritual to hand yourself over to a monster, you demand the reason why. When he gives you the answers, he demands your body.

Characters: Slenderman x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Big size difference, rituals, tentacles, gagging, choking, suffocation, eating out, Slender has a big tongue, vaginal, tip fucking, forcing, blood, clawing

Words: 5.2k

The curse of Slenderman had been in your family for generations.

Since you were little, this curse-like entity crept on your kin and ruled their lives. Demanding sacrifices and obedience every decade; deeming itself a God over you. 

So as you trekked through the dense moonlit woods, you clutched the wicker basket so hard in your hands that it nearly cracked. You tried to think of your mother and her sisters, and her mother and her sisters, who have gone through this same ritual like generations before. The fog was dense all around you, the small flashlight in your hand doing little to breach the thick blanket. 

The nature around you was quiet, a dull whisper of insects and animals as you trudged through the underbrush and thick roots. You knew this path, having walked it often when you were little to help your mother and sisters prepare for their turns, their time to appease the creature. You didn’t understand then, but now that you were dressed in thin white robes and bare feet, reality quickly faced you. In other circumstances, the outfit wouldn’t be bad, a nice Halloween costume of some cute cult girl from Midsommar maybe. But as you neared the familiar clearing past the trees, you didn’t find the idea of being a sacrifice funny anymore. 

Standing just at the edge of the treeline, you took a deep breath, limbs shaking against the cold and fear that ran through you. It was late summer, well past midnight, and the night air brushed against your flushed cheeks leaving goosebumps. Closing your eyes, you stepped forward, leaving the dense forest behind you. 

A sense of dread immediately engulfed you. The fog suddenly fizzled out on the ground like it wasn’t just blinding you. The air was silent, not a bug or animal to be heard no matter how hard you listened. And the breeze just stopped. It was like the whole forest was afraid to move into this clearing, hugging close to the treeline curiously but daring no further. But you had to, no matter how badly you wanted to turn and run back home to the safe arms of your family. To keep the vengeful creature at bay, this was the price that must be met. Every ten years, you watched as another woman from your family disappeared for a night late in the summer, silently praying that she would make it home in the morning. They always did, but the haunting look that followed them shook you to your core. 

Reaching the center of the clearing, a dead spot in the grass was etched in a circular shape, the familiar pattern laid before you. Lying down your basket, you flicked off your flashlight, the moon illuminating a milky blue hue into the clearing bright enough for you to see. You shuddered, the silence creeping into your mind and making you look around quickly, paranoia gripping you. You huffed, rummaging through the items in the large basket and laying the contents out, preparing for the exhausting ritual. Your mother had taught you, every step perfect as she walked you through the routine. The symbol, the candles, even the perfect way to position yourself. It was like an art form for her as she taught you and your sisters.

Unwrapping the large bag of salt you packed, you began to follow the outline in the grass, pouring as you walked slowly. The symbol was forming nicely, a large circle with an x etched through it, the symbol of Slenderman, bore by anything he owned. As you closed the symbol, your heart pounded, the next steps coming quickly as you could feel the forest beyond the treeline begin to stir, its curiosity pressing. Setting candles along the salt, you spaced them evenly, lighting them as you went. It wasn’t nearly as perfect as your mother would have done it, but your shaking hands restrained you slightly, giving you little reason to care.

The candles flickered against the night, the warm glow surrounding you as you studied your work, praying desperately that it was good enough. You felt an impatience in the air, quickly cleaning up the rest of your items into the basket before sighing, and closing your eyes tightly. This was the part you dreaded. The part your family was reluctant to tell you when your time eventually came around. You hooked your hands under the hem of your white robe, the thin fabric almost see-through as you tugged it over your head, your bare body flush against the cold air. Your nipples had already perked, your nervousness making you squirm into yourself as you folded your robe neatly and laid it in the basket, turning back to the salt symbol. Breathing deep, your hands shook, goosebumps running all over your body. You took a step in, careful not to disturb the salt as you kneeled in the middle of the x, tucking your feet under yourself and straightening your back, placing your palms flat against the top of your thighs.

The salt was meant to protect you, a barrier that Slenderman couldn’t break. You were supposed to come out willingly, offering yourself to him without force. Was it for trust or some sadistic attempt at manipulation, you didn’t know. But as you breathed deep, you stared into the dark corners of the forest, eyes flicking nervously and watching for any signs of movement that you knew would come. You had only heard of Slenderman’s appearance, never seeing it besides what your family could recount. Terrifying, was the word they all used. It didn’t help as your heart pounded, the thudding echoing in your ears as you prayed he would never come. But it gave you a good time to reflect.

The specific reason why your family was enslaved to this creature was unsure, tracing back generations and lost with time. But like any of Slenderman’s victims, who's to say exactly why he did anything except for his own gain? 

As you caught yourself zoned out in thought, you were quickly snapped back when you heard the rustling of leaves yards ahead of you. Your eyes snapped wide, back straightening quickly as your tits perked, your naked body on display amongst the candles and decor. You studied the shadows carefully, watching for any sudden movements, your pulse quick. But finally, slinking from the shadows, the lanky creature emerged. The sheer height of him made your heart sink, his bony limbs long and awkward. If it wasn’t for his movement, he could easily blend in with the tall trees surrounding him, making you suspicious of just how long he had been watching concealed by the dense forest. Your nails gripped into your thighs, teeth gritted as you tried to hold down your tears. His presence is overwhelming and otherworldly, defying the logic and rationality you’ve always relied on. The air around you seems to distort, amplifying the surreal nature of his presence until it feels like you can’t breathe. He was closer now, it barely even seemed like he had walked but more like appeared before you, only a few yards away from the circle protecting you. However, the worst part about the encounter was the lack of a face. It was like someone had pressed a sheet against his face, features protruding against the pale skin but offering no obvious facial structure. It was purely terrifying, this creature far beyond what you could’ve imagined.

His dark suit contrasted against his terrifying appearance, his buttoned coat and tie making you knit your brows, your unease only growing. Slenderman just stared, his vacant eyes absently staring down at you. His faceless visage and elongated limbs exuded an unsettling yet compelling magnetism that you found yourself drawn to, eyes refusing to look away as you studied him. Finally catching yourself, you looked down at your hands quickly, cursing yourself for being so disrespectful. “Slenderman, sir.” You mumbled respectfully, keeping your body at attention even though embarrassment wrecked you internally. “I come, as my kin does, to offer myself to you. To fulfill our obligations to you. And to-” 

The speech you had so delicately rehearsed was cut short by a low grumble, the echo of the tall figure’s voice cutting you short.

“I hate to interrupt,” His voice was smooth, every word laced with the undertone of a darker grumble, like two voices were speaking at once, overlapping each other. “But hearing this same dedication every time I meet with one of you becomes rather tiring.” You sat shocked, unsure of what to do next as your careful instructions were quickly skewed. You kept your head down, eyes flicking against the grass as you carefully waited, shaky breaths the only noise between you. You felt so helpless against him, like if you made one wrong move that would be it. The only reason you weren’t screaming and running was the salt circle and the looming fact that if you did run your family would be massacred in minutes. 

“Forgive my rudeness.” He coaxed, pressing closer against the circle until you could see his black dress shoes come into the edge of your vision. You dared to look up, your eyes slightly edging up until you were staring at his face again, that odd sense of being drawn in coming over you again. Slenderman tilted his head, vacant expression examining you. “But, you and I both know what we’re here for. There is no need for formalities anymore.” You knitted your brows, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks as you remembered just how bare you were. You gripped your thighs, nervousness running through your every word. “But I thought there was a need for formalities. This being a ritual and all.” You mumbled, eyes roaming the tall figure, his long limbs clamped respectfully behind his back as he chuckled darkly. “All of this,” He motioned towards the salt circle beneath you. “This is only for aesthetics. You understand, to make the scene more appealing for us. Humans have such an odd fascination with beings like me, so to combat your fickle bravery: you created a routine. Something to take your mind off of just how terrifying encountering me may seem.” He explained calmly, his body hauntingly still as he talked, but there was barely a motion of his jaw, like the voice was coming from somewhere inside. 

You glanced at the salt circle, your efforts to make it look so nice thrown to the wayside. “So, the salt…” You glanced up, Slender nodding reassuringly. “I cannot penetrate it. Your protection is still guaranteed. However, I quite like it when you silly women step outside your protective ring and offer yourselves so willingly.” He was teasing now, his thin hands reaching around to adjust his suit before kneeling in front of you, his limbs awkwardly contorting to allow him in front of you. “But you are not like the others. I feel a very reluctant air from you. The others were a lot more… eager.” He cocked his head to the side. At this angle, you could clearly see the massive bulge beneath his dress slacks, the sheer size of the thing making your stomach twist. “I don’t find giving myself over to a cryptid demon so… appealing.” You huffed back, trying your best to conceal the dark tint against your cheeks. Slender only chuckled, the dark echo of his voice making your skin crawl. “But oh how fun it would be to show you otherwise.” He purred, tracing his pale claw against the edge of the salt, his actions impatient. You squirmed, nails digging into your thighs. 

You straightened up, your bravery low but overruled by your curiosity. “Tell me why. Why the decades of demanding our submission while we cower for the rest? Then, when I am satisfied, I will offer myself. No resistance.”  You demanded, eyes hooded as you tried to stifle your fear. Slender stood slowly, clasping his hands behind his back as he contemplated. Until he finally nodded, sighing. 

“Alright, little one, I’ll bite.” He cooed, that ominous voice seemingly coming from nowhere but everywhere simultaneously. You settled, brain running a mile a minute as your heart beat heavily in your chest. “When old cryptids and beasts still roamed rampant through the Earth, your family was desperate. It must have been more than eight generations ago now, but they sought me out, begging for my protection against the things that went bump in the night. I obliged, my only demand being an offering. I never specified, but you hormonal humans took it upon yourselves to offer your bodies. For all I cared you could have given me your leftovers, but I was more than satisfied with what I have been given.” His words were thick with this cryptic dialect, his accent unheard of. “No such creatures roam these lands, long hunted out or deceased. But your family continued to show up despite my resignation, paranoia convincing them if they didn’t I in turn would be the monster that preyed on you. But, I’m afraid I have more important things to deal with than any of you.” Finished, he leaned forward, his white face vacant, but you could tell what he wanted. 

“Then why do you still co-” 

“Ah, ah, ah. I was promised if questions were answered I would get what I came for.” He growled, the calm voice laced with a tone of demand as you scowled. He waited expectantly, his hands tapping quietly behind his back as you stood, the salt on your knees falling as you shook them off. When you looked up, you realized really just how tall he was. You stopped at his waist, your face eye level with the terrifyingly large bulge nudging against the slacks in front of you. He was tall, towering and matching the height of the trees around you. He stepped back, standing straight as he waited for you.

Breathing deep, you took a step, your foot halfway out of the circle as your heart began to race. You could just wait him out, lay here until morning. But you feared his peacefulness would turn to wrath under desperation. Clenching your fists, you stepped completely out, straining your neck to look him in the face. Slender chuckled, his demeanour instantly switching as you felt the air stir, the forest pressing in on you with such an intensity you thought you were hallucinating. It was like he was controlling the trees themselves, making their branches press in and suffocate you. With a hissing, you finally saw the reason for the sudden intensity. Several black groping tentacles shot from his back, their form close to tree branches with their edges and curvature. He seemed to control them as well, the long limbs reaching around his body and whipping at the air, stretches and tears of the odd black liquid molding into new shapes instantaneously. 

They encompassed your vision, the tentacles casting shadows across your face as they streaked across the moonlight. They slithered forward, sliding across the grass and in the air to grip onto your body. The tentacles were cool, like slimy tree branches that defied all laws of permeation. They slid around your ankles and up your calves, gripping tightly against your thighs before hooking onto your waist. They gripped your wrists, up your forearms and around your neck, tugging as they wrapped around your tits and waist. Soon you were completely secured, the tentacles curiously studying every inch of your bare skin, goosebumps rising everywhere they touched. It was electrifying, your body stiff under the chilled slime. Slender was quiet, his body just as curious as his tentacles as he relished in the way you squirmed under his touch. “So warm.” He mewled, his hands gripped tightly behind him. You shivered as the tentacles breached past your thighs, the slimy tips sliding against your folds, curiously spreading them open while you flinched. They slid further, pressing between your ass cheeks and making you hiss, the coolness sharp against your asshole. 

“Wait-” You whined, your hands straining to push the tentacles off your body but they held your wrists still. They engulfed your tits, the tips wrapping around your nipples and tugging lightly, making you whimper. Slender watched carefully, his face never letting any emotion reveal itself. “Relax, little one. You made this decision. Now let me claim what has been so graciously offered.” He grinned. The tentacles slipped between your folds, your nervousness making you clench your knees together but they held them apart easily. Slipping against your clit, you groaned, your stomach tightening as you stood. Pressing further, they probed against your entrance, tiny little tips tangling with each other to slip inside of you, your warmth contrasting with their chill. You whined, eyes slipping shut as the tentacles pressed further in, stretching you as they squirmed and whipped. You felt incredibly full, your clit throbbing against the intrusion as a single tentacle flicked against the hardened nub. 

Slender grunted, his eyes darker as he relished in the way you squirmed, your tiny noises making him strain against his slacks. “Go on, no one can hear you. Be as loud as you please.” You gasped, the tentacles in your cunt tangling together and pressing deep, stretching you wide. They began to pump inside of you, pulling out before pressing in quickly, your mouth falling open. Every inch of your body was covered in the cool slick of the tentacles, every inch sensitive as they glided along you. You felt a tug along your waist, the tentacles securing around you as they began to pull up, lifting your feet off the ground. You panicked slightly, the loss of stability unnerving as you were lifted to meet Slender’s face, your body angled back so he got a clear view of your cunt full of him. You whined, your face flushed and breathy as they trusted quickly, your slick coating the dark limbs beautifully. You found it terrifying how no expression or signs of interest flashed on Slender’s face, only the heavy breathing in his chest telling you how excited he was. Curling, you moaned loudly, throat straining as the tentacles pressed against your warm walls, squelching loudly through the quiet woods. 

You couldn’t speak, the air in your lungs restrained as the tentacles gripped your throat, choking you. Some more moved up, pressing against your cheeks and against your lips, nudging their way inside. The tentacles tasted grimy, unlike anything as they slid around your tongue, filling your mouth full of him. You choked, the tips curiously pressing down your throat, quickly following the pace of the tentacles in your throat as they began to thrust down your mouth. It didn’t help when you felt a single tentacle slide across your asshole, forcing its way inside and stretching uncomfortably. You were gasping and gagging, every inch of you overtaken by these slimy things as they pressed against every inch and the entrance of your skin. That’s when you began to hear Slender’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving against his suit as he watched closely, entranced by the whole scene. He felt every slide and movement of the tentacles, relished in every vibration and constriction that your body gave him. He pushed you, seeing what made that beautiful voice stir or what made you flinch. He loved every answer he got. 

Your senses were skewed. You forgot what direction you were facing or how high you were off the ground, everything becoming a blur as your body dissolved under his touch. Pleasure was racking your body, your resolve leaving you as Slender’s tentacles broke and pulled at every restraint you tried to use. No matter how hard you wanted to resist, these tentacles were quick to force embarrassing noises from your lips, pressing on all the right places. Squirming, the tentacles slicked against your cunt, pounding up into you at an inhumane pace. You couldn’t concentrate, every inch of your body was violated at his will. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your cunt throbbing against the thick tentacles inside of you as you felt your orgasm crash down. You gasped loudly, mouth full of slimy limbs as you came roughly, walls constricting around him. Your body thrashed, fighting against the restraint as you rode out your high, chest heaving. Your head was light when the tentacles slipped from your sensitive cunt, replacing themselves around your thighs as you were hoisted up higher, your brain too hazy to care. 

Your body was angled upright, legs spread wide apart as your clit throbbed, aching from the intensity. Your heavy eyes watched as you were lifted to Slender’s face, your cunt open and raw inches from him. You whined, squirming as the tentacles slipped from your mouth, gasping. The tentacles retreated to your limbs, holding you firmly as Slender’s claws left behind him and reached up, wrapping firmly around your hips, pinching the plush skin. “You have such a pretty face when you cum. I would love to see it again.” He growled, pulling you close to his face. You were confused, wondering what he meant until you heard this sharp tearing sound loud enough to echo through the trees. You tensed, watching fearfully as Slender’s face split where his mouth should have been. It was terrifying. His mock mouth split wide, jagged pieces of skin splitting to reveal a dark interior, his mouth pitch black. Emerging from the dark, a tongue, similar to the shape of one of the tentacles, slipped through the jagged skin, pressing close to your cunt. You squirmed instantly, unsure if you wanted this to happen.

You didn’t have much of a choice as he ran his large, thick tongue through your folds, a groan echoing through him. His tongue was long, black, and inhumane. It pressed through your entrance, the warmth a nice contrast to the coolness of his tentacles that still slid against your skin. His claws gripped tight, holding your cunt flush against his mouth as he slowly lapped you up. He moaned at the taste, pressing against your velvety walls until he heard those wonderful gasps again. “Delicious.” He grumbled against your cunt, tongue curling and filling you as he relished the sweet taste of your orgasm. It was all too much, your body squirming against the sensitivity until you were gasping for air. He was so skilful with his tongue, lapping at every inch of your inside until you felt your orgasm rocking you again, your eyes rolling as you cried your pleasure. It was all too fast, his touch too addicting as you stared at his blank face, pleasure struck across his knitted brows. 

“God… Fucking human.” The words sounded so vulgar following how polite he’s been. It caught you off guard. But you had little time to think as his tentacles were tugging you down quickly, laying you flat as they positioned your legs to spread around his hips, hips straining as the tentacles pulled. You whined, watching carefully as Slender unzipped his slacks and freed the bulge that had been haunting you from the moment you saw it. To say it was huge was probably an understatement. The thick length was easily larger than your forearm, not even two hands would be enough to hold the thing. You began to struggle against the tentacles, panic overtaking you as his cock twitched with excitement. “There's no way in hell that thing’s fitting inside of me! It’ll rip me in half!” You squealed, feet planted against his legs to hold yourself away from him.

Slender’s claws wrapped around your thighs, scraping the skin lightly as he tugged you towards him, his cockhead laying against your cunt. You cringed, fear riding up your spine. “I’ve never gotten this far with the others. Their voices and bodies were too annoying. But you intrigue me, little one. I’ll make it fit.” 

You tried to close your legs, but Slender was already wrapping his claws around your hips, his claws easily overlapping as he nudged his hips between your legs and held you open for him. You were breathing fast, heart pounding as you watched the head of his cock line up with your entrance, the head alone the size of your entrance. He dug his claws in, pinching your skin as he began to press against you, nudging his cock into you. The stretch was rattling, the sharp sting making you cry out as the head of his cock barely pressed inside, your entrance begging for relief. Your hands reached down, gripping his claws tightly as tears spilt down your cheeks, your babbles echoing loudly. The tentacles slid across your skin soothingly, pinching at your nipples and rubbing at your cheeks the further he tried to press. “Ple- Please- Oh, God, please-” You cried, your stomach tightening as his head popped past your tight entrance, your walls constricting against the intrusion, “Breathe, little one. You’re doing wonderfully.” He groaned, hips stuttering lightly as he nudged his head in and out of you. You were whining, breath catching every time he pushed back into you.

He couldn’t go further than the tip, but Slender didn’t seem to mind as he shallowly fucked you onto his cockhead. You were whining, back arched and hips grinding as the sting and stretch of his head slowly turned to painful pleasure. The nudge of his cockhead against your walls made you moan loudly, tentacles sliding down to tug at your clit as he fucked you onto him. You could tell he wanted more, his slimy tongue hanging from his mock mouth and lolling with every thrust. His desperation showed as he breathed heavily, gasps ragged as he held himself back. Even though your mind screamed that you couldn’t handle any more, you gasped, gripping your hands against his thin forearms. “Deeper…” You whined, staring up at him through heavy eyes and flushed cheeks, jaw slack. 

Slender’s body lit up, his claws gripping tighter as he groaned, brows knitting. He was reluctant, his movements nervous until his desperation overtook him, his shoulders crouching low to press his face close to yours. “Hold on tight, little one.” He hissed, your hands slinking around the back of his pale head as you gripped the collar of his suit. He breathed your scent in deep, tongue pressing from his mouth to slink against your neck, relishing in the taste of your sweat. You groaned as the tongue pressed against your cheeks, sliding across your lips before pressing inside. You sucked on his tongue, the long warmth pressing against your throat as Slender began to press your hips down further. It felt like you were tearing, the incredible sting making your eyes clamp shut, Slender’s tongue quick to distract you. His tentacles moved rapidly across your skin, pinching and pulling against every available sensitive service to help relax you. Slender’s cock pressed barely deeper, not even halfway inside of you, but it was all you could take.

You clawed at his shoulders as tears spilt to your cheeks, the fullness obstructing your breathing. Slender was moaning deeply, his ominous voice ringing across the trees as he began to thrust your body down onto his cock. You were both sporadic, hands and tentacles gripping onto every available surface as you stretched impossibly wide. You couldn’t believe the feeling, both painful, but so wonderfully pleasurable. You were so sensitive, so overwhelmed, but oh so full. It was nothing like you had ever experienced.

Slender was holding you tight, pressing your hips down roughly and pulling up quickly, just to nudge you down again. He was careful to read every signal your body gave. Every hiss of pain or sigh of pleasure, he was sure to adjust for you. “Sir- So full-” You groaned against his mouth, tongue slipping to glide against your neck. He groaned deeply, teeth gritted and brows knitted. “So good, little one. So good.” His tentacles flicked against your clit, tugging until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You couldn’t breathe as you felt your orgasm rush over you, hips jerking down against his cock until you were too tight to move. Slender still tried to thrust you down, but your walls constricted and kept him in place. You cried out, clawing against the back of his neck as he slammed his mouth back against yours, tongue invading your throat before you could catch your breath. Slender was quick to follow, warm seed shooting up inside of you in thick stripes as he groaned. His claws dug in deep, blood pooling around his pale skin until it was dripping down your legs. His tentacles lapped it up, pressing the thick liquid across your skin. 

When Slender’s heaving chest finally settled, he took a deep breath, slipping his claws under your arms. “Hold still, little one.” He hissed, pulling you off his cock slowly as you whined, the sharp sting stretching your sensitive cunt. You couldn’t focus when he finally popped out of you, thick black liquid leaking from your ruined hole. His cum was hot, a thick black liquid that bubbled and gooped against your folds. You whined, emptiness making your cunt throb as your head pounded. Slender sat on the forest floor, laying down on his back as he pulled you with him, laying you down on his chest as you both settled. Your limbs were weak, eyes heavy with exhaustion as Slender’s tentacles ran soothingly across your back. 

When you finally caught your breath, you braced your hands on his chest, leaning up to stare him in the face. His pale skin had fixed itself, with no sign of the mock mouth that tore across his flesh. The blank slate was all that was left. “I release you… Of your duties. There’s no need for you to come here anymore.” You sighed, resting your head against your hands. Slender reached forward, tangling his claws with your matted hair, sliding his fingers through the long strands. “But what if I want to come here? More often than just once a decade, that is.” He huffed, sliding his claws against your cheek. You sat stunned, glancing at his expression and searching for any tricks. “But why..?” 

“I guess now I’ve found a more enticing reason.” He grinned, pinching your cheek. He blushed, turning away. You traced along his chest, the fabric of his suit soft under your touch. “You’re still released from protecting us. No need to give you more work than necessary. I suppose you won’t be requiring the ritual anymore?” You smiled, resting your chin against your hand. Slender chuckled, rubbing up your sides. “Only if you would like to reminisce, little one…” He growled, holding you tight.

In reality, you never imagined the monster that haunted your family to become humane to you. You also never expected to meet with him weekly, in the same clearing, exploring each other and relieving the urges only the two of you could satisfy. 

Maybe it was a slap in the face to your kin, but as Slender held you close for another week, all you could think of was him. 

He may have been a curse, but he was yours to bear.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[strangererotica]

An addition to this fic, as @plasticfangtastic kindly mentioned she’d like a second part ♥️

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

some big content warnings: implied character death, vomit, blood, menstrual blood, consuming of aforementioned bodily fluids by Art, breath play, choking, dubious consent, oral sex, vaginal sex, use of a sex toy

He was back.

Oh my god, he was back.

Your stomach roiled in a disturbing mix of revulsion and excitement. You wanted this. Despite how loudly your thinned grip on sanity was screaming at you not to want this, you did. You wanted him: this sick fucking clown, leaning menacingly in the frame of your bedroom doorway.

As before, he remained silent. The only sounds you could hear were the quick breaths you drew in and out, and the plastic crinkle of the black garbage bag settling at the clown’s feet. You knew what he kept inside that bag…terrible things, things that he used to hurt people. As he knelt to rifle through its contents, fear momentarily overrode the twisted arousal swelling between your thighs.

Your heart was pounding so hard you swore you could hear it, knocking against your ribcage like a frenetic drumbeat. The metallic sound of various weapons being shifted about scratched at your ears, making you gulp. The clown paused, making an exaggerated expression as if to say “ahh, there it is.” He produced something from inside the garbage bag you’d never have expected…something less likely to cause pain, and much more likely to cause pleasure instead…

His smile deepened as he met your eyes. The long, fat dildo looked strange held in the clown’s hand, lingering mid-air as he observed your response to it. Your lips had parted, words failing you and for a moment, making the two of you somewhat equal. Words were unnecessary to describe the confusion and anticipation you were feeling; the look on your face confirmed for the clown everything he already knew. He may have been a monster, but something inside him remained a man. The way your body had responded on his hand the day prior revealed your needs were just as human as his.

He approached you deliberately, taunting you with his slow pace. You made note of the open doorway behind him, wondering fleetingly if you could escape. The thought faded as quickly as it had formed, however, when the clown stopped at the side of your bed, and tapped the dildo lightly against your lips. All traces of common sense, all semblance of self preservation, evaporated in an instant. His other hand came to rest at your cheek, pulling tenderly along the curve of your jawline. You drew in a sharp breath, shock racking your body at the realization that the fingertips currently tracing your skin in a gesture of tenderness were also capable of unspeakable violence. The clown’s thumb dragged along your bottom lip, pulling it slightly downward. You gazed obediently up at him, tepidly offering your tongue against the tip of his thumb. His expression softened, his sharp features relaxing slightly at your offering up, of surrender when he was so accustomed to being met with fear. You, however, were proving yourself even better than prey. Offerings were always preferable to sacrifices, the clown had observed. Especially when they fit his cock as well as you…

He pressed the head of the dildo between your lips, his chest dipping in an exhale as you took the first four inches with no resistance. Your eyelids fluttered, lashes dusting up and down rapidly as your gag reflex was triggered on the sixth inch of the toy. The clown shook his head disapprovingly, and you felt a sting of disappointment. You wanted to please him, and his expression conveyed that your performance with the toy was coming up short. As if to compensate, you began to bob your head on the toy, silently asking the clown to try again. He cocked an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders amiably, before abruptly forcing another two inches down your throat. Your eyes flew open wide, your body lurching as a surge of vomit washed up your throat. The clown removed the dildo, watching as you sprayed the floor beside your bed in hot, slippery bile. Coughing hoarsely, you used your pajama sleeve to wipe at your glistening chin, tears forming along your lash line. The clown’s hand moved to your hair, gripping a handful of your tresses painfully hard. He threw your back against the bed, climbing astride you and casing you in between his legs.

He examined the toy, peppered with bits of your sick, before dragging his tongue along its surface and licking it clean. The act should have repulsed you, but somehow, in his presence you were beyond the confines of your normal sexual principles. The gesture was somehow tender, considerate; and when he tore the waist of your pajama shorts down, you didn’t even mind that it hurt, elastic snapping your hip with a sharp sting. The clown positioned the head of the dildo against your entrance, his smile fading to a look of concentrated arousal when he noticed the red liquid smeared between your thighs. He pressed the toy inside you, his cock stiffening against your thigh when you whimpered at being filled. Again, he thrust the toy into you, his breath quickening as he watched your menstrual blood gush out around the toy’s head. He continued to fuck you on the toy, his own cock needy and leaking against the inside of his costume as he thrust the dildo, and your blood, in and out of you over and over again.

When he did remove the toy, it was with selfish intent. Because rather than lay it aside, the clown pulled it to his lips desperately, sucking your crimson essence from the silicone toy like it was sustaining him. He then reached under you, gripping your ass and lifting your hips till they were elevated at his face. Before you could even comprehend what was about to happen, the clown had buried his mouth against your cunt, a mix of lips, teeth and tongue devouring you in rough, greedy pursuit. It was too much, the physical sensations and their emotional implications overwhelming you. The way he literally ate you was the most intense sexual experience you’d ever had. The level of intimacy having your blood consumed by sometime else created was unlike anything else; no ordinary orgasm could compare to this, no drug could ever match this high. You came screaming, fingernails tearing into the fabric of your bedsheets, heels kicking into the clown’s shoulders at a brutal force that no man could have withstood. He held you in place as if it were effortless for him, like your ass in his hands and your cunt in his mouth were weightless.

When he sank his teeth into the fat of your inner thigh, you yelped in pain, and he immediately lifted his head, face covered in your blood, locking eyes with you. The blue you’d seen in them earlier had vanished, replaced with something pitch black and haunting, as if consuming your blood had itself tinted the clown’s eyes with ink. He climbed across you, his erection prodding your stomach, your legs left trembling on the bed where he’d dropped them. Ripping the fabric separating his body from yours, the clown reached inside his costume and removed his cock. You trembled under him, his other hand closing over your throat, your pulse drumming against the soiled palm of his glove. Squeezing harder around your throat, the clown watched your eyes as he sank his cock inside you. You tried to exhale, but his hand wouldn’t allow it, your cheeks going puffy and red, eyes widening in alarm as he kept your breath locked away inside his grip. Your hold on consciousness began to waver, eyes drifting backward in surrender. Air was suddenly returned to you, the clown’s hold on your throat relenting long enough for you to suck desperately at all the oxygen your burning lungs could hold. His hips slammed forward, crushing your insides like a weight. His lithe fingers once again tightened around your throat, sealing off your access to the air and the world around you…

You jolted upward, your chest crushed beneath the clown’s weight over you. His smile was sadistic as usual, confirming that he enjoyed this game of control, of bringing you inches from the edge of death before lurching you mercifully back to consciousness. His cock was splitting you apart at the seams, bruising your cervix as he seemed to get bigger the longer he was inside you. It was as if his cock had continued to grow even after becoming fully erect, swelling inside you till not a single crevice of your cunt was untouched by his girth. He released your throat, grinning maniacally as you gasped at the air, watching the red imprint of his fingers rapidly form a bruise in your skin. Free to breathe as you needed, you began to feel all the other sensations the clown was stimulating inside you. His fat, engorged length fit perfectly inside you, lodged against your g-spot in a way that had your back arching, drool spilling from your lips to the bedsheets as you moaned for more, more, more. He knew what you needed, but he wanted to hear you beg. Holding your life in his hands wasn’t enough for the clown; he needed to hold your pleasure ransom as well. He’d already spoiled you with one orgasm, the best you’d ever had in your life or ever would have, and he knew it. Now your pleasure was optional; he wasn’t going to play with you much longer anyway. It was his time to get what he needed, to take what he wanted from you before his time with you was over.

Reaching again for your hips, the clown lifted them so he was fucking down into you, your back plastered to the drenched bed, a sticky mix of cum and blood caking the sheets to your skin. You felt yourself getting close again, the raw throb of an even more powerful climax than the first rolling up from deep in your core. The sounds that left your lips were unholy, hedonistic cries to the god of this earth for more and more pleasure, for unending ecstasy at the expense of all that is good and holy and right. Your teeth sealed over your bottom lip, breaking the skin as you convulsed in orgasm. Ripples of pleasure rocked through you, snapping your hips back and forth, jolting on the cock inside you so wildly that the clown didn’t even have to thrust, but rather watched as you fucked yourself on him. He grit his teeth as the first tug of his orgasm began, biting the insides of his cheeks till the soft tissue bled. Ropes of cum belched inside you, coating the walls of your pussy, his thrusts smearing your bullied cervix in creamy white.

He sank his fingertips into the fat of your hips, watching with interest as crescent-shaped marks bloomed red under his ministrations. You were too fucked-out to feel anything at this point, your body still shaking even after your orgasm had faded. Eyes clouded over, a sheen of sweat and blood covering you, the clown thought you looked even prettier than you had wearing his cum on your back the night before. And now, he decided, it was time to see how pretty you’d look from the inside out. He left the bed, taking a step toward his garbage bag of supplies by the doorway. You were too busy shaking and panting, and mumbling some incoherent string of nonsense to realize that the clown had removed a blood-caked axe from his bag. Returning to the bed, he climbed astride you once again, his knees at your sides. Art tucked his softening, satisfied dick inside his costume, sighed contentedly, then lifted the axe above his head… 🩸

@hippiegothrecs @megangovier @plasticfangtastic @jessieconstantine1999 @kakixii @theslvttysimp

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Walking the Road for Her

Wanda Maximoff x Gray Witch!Reader

Word count: 1.2K

Summary: You can't live without Wanda and you've tried everything else so when Agatha comes knocking on your door you accept immediately, but the teen that's with her...he seems so familiar

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 3 OF AGATHA ALL ALONG! Grief/Loss, hallucinations, death/mortality, emotional distress, supernatural elements, implied self-sacrifice, character death, reunion with a deceased loved one

Authors notes: Thank you @scarlethexelove for indulging in my random Wanda thoughts.

When Agatha asked for you to walk the witches road, you didn't hesitate. She was put off by your eagerness, but never told her why you were walking. You kept that part to yourself she didn't seem to mind. Everyone had a reason, and everyone had their secrets, so no one asked, and you weren't about to tell them you wanted, no needed Wanda back.

You would give up anything and everything to have Wanda back. If it meant to team up with Agatha, you would do it.

So you did. You met up with her and put on the cheery smile she hated. You always assumed she hated you for being a younger witch still full of life, but since Wanda died, you felt like you died too. You got along well enough with the others. You knew Jen the best being closer in age, though you didn't care for her products.

The teen seemed eerily familiar, but you can't put your finger on it. Why does he remind you of Wanda of a life you can't seem to remember.

You're overly protective of him. You don't let him have the wine, and when you hallucinate from said wine, you blink, and suddenly, you're looking at Wanda. Back in her early twenties with the eyeliner, ripped stockings, painted nails, and rings on every finger. You cry over it, cupping her face until it turns back to his.

“Are you okay.” He looks at you with concern. You pull away quickly and wipe your eyes.

“S-Sorry.” You quickly run the ingredients back, trying to escape the feelings. You need to stay strong. You need to get Wanda back.

You end up getting through the trail. Not without its costs. Losing Sharon wasn't something you had in mind, but the witches road is treacherous and has no place for mortals. You never should have let Agatha do that, but hindsight and all that. You knew you had to press on and on the road Teen asks,

“Are you sure you're okay? You and Sharon called out for the same person.” You swallow hard.

“Yeah I'm fine. We all had hallucinations about things. I'll be okay.” You tell him and then mumble under your breath, “Not like I don't deal with it every morning...” his head swivels.

“What was that?” He asks.

“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.”

The further you journey, the harder it gets. Sometimes, you want to give up, to give in, and join Wanda another way. But something stops you every time. You almost think you can feel her, feel her all around you. In the trees, the air, the leaves beneath your feet. With a quick turn of your head, you think you so the soft auburn color you miss so much. The road is playing tricks yet keeping you grounded to your goals.

You make it to the end. Finally passed the last trial everyone who had made it. Their prize awaited them. You waited, didn't see her, and then you heard a whisper in Sokovian.

Your name.

You looked around everywhere. “Over here milaya.” You hear her call. You whip around and see her. She doesn't look like the Scarlet Witch anymore. Back before that. Like when you were on the run. You run into her arms without a second thought.

You can't help as you cry. Burying your face in her neck as your body shakes with sobs. Her vanilla scent invades your senses. “Shhhh sweet girl, I've got you.” Wanda holds you close. Your heart feels whole again now that you're back in her arms.

Your sobs turn into sniffles. “I've missed you so much.” You mumble against her. Her nails lightly scratching at your back. Something she's always done to sooth you. Kissing the side of your head and letting her lips linger.

“I know Detka. I'm so sorry. I'm here now. I'll never leave you again.”

You held onto Wanda tight, afraid to let go as if she'd disappear again if you stopped.

Wanda opened her eyes, looking past your shoulder her eyes widened in surprise and then softened as she saw him.

“Bi-Billy?” Wanda's voice shakes slightly. You pull back but not fully letting her go. You follow her gaze that lands on the teen. Your brows furrow before you look back to Wanda.

“Wanda?” You question her.

She lets go of you when Teen responds to the name. He tries to say something, but the sigil protects him. A wave of Wanda's hand changes that. “Billy?” She asks again.

“Yes, that's me.” You're really confused as you see Wanda's red tendrils come out sending red waves through his eyes before disappearing. “M-mom? H-how did you...?”

Billy runs towards Wanda, slamming into her, but she doesn't budge. She holds him tightly in her arms. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn't know my own son?” Wanda whispers. It's just loud enough for you to hear. Confusion morphs into realization as you look on.

The reason he looked so familiar, the reason he reminded you of her. Of course, it was one of the twins. Sure you hadn't been a part of the hex, but you had seen the recordings of it. Last you had seen the twins, they were 10 inside the hex.

Your heartbeat quickens when you remember what you had seen next as the hex fell the you Wanda had created was destroyed along with the twins. She had held you tightly until you were no more.

It's a shock to see him in the flesh. To understand who he really is. He pulls away from Wanda and turns to you. “Mama?” He's cautious having been giving the memory from Wanda and realizing that you had never got to meet him. Do you even know who he is? Will you accept him as your own?

Your breath catches. It's like waves of memories flood through you as if they had always been there. Everything from the hex coming to life as tears fill your vision and spill over. “Oh my sweet little boy...look at you!” Your arms wrap around him tightly. It had been there, blurry when you thought about it. Of this being your son. “Mama is sorry you had to go through all of this.”

“Mama don't apologize. I'm happy to have you back.” He pulls away slightly keeping an arm around you and opening his other for Wanda. She joins into the hug.

“I'm happy to have both of you back.” You can feel the tears pricking your eyes.

You hug them both tightly. This still left you without one son, but you knew you'd find him. If Billy made it out somehow, then Tommy must be out there, too.

Wanda cups both of your cheeks and looks between you. “Moya lyubov i moy syn (my love and my son).” Tears in her eyes she can't believe she is back and that she had both of you. Her heart is almost complete, but there is still a missing piece to the puzzle.

You didn't need her powers to know what she was thinking, “We'll find him, milaya.” She smiles at you, giving a soft peck on your lips.

“We will. Now that I have you two I know we will.”

This was more than you could have asked for at the end of the road.