#pestilence speaks
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Right, then. The sick part of my brain is terrorizing me once more, and taking an idea from it is like taking a bone from an angry rottweiler.
Who wants a fucked up Michael Langdon x Reader oneshot?.. I really do not feel like making a yet another OC, and adding a yet enother epic to my endless list.
#diary pages#ahs#ahs apocalypse#american horror story#michael langdon#michael langdon x reader#could be my offering to... you whoever saw this if you're into that?#tho i only do mf with male characters#eh as in mxf nothing about them being motherf-...#because what i'm about to write i'm not turned on by#i'm just an oracle the characters will do what they wish to do#and sometimes a part of me goes “let's do fucked up things 🤪”#and i'm just sitting here like “judy pls we already have 587 other wips can you just -_-”#then if i heed “judy” a third part of me bursts into the scene like an angry wooden spoon wielding grandma ywlling what the hell am i doing#🤣#pestilence speaks#i guess i'm so insinstent on making things clear because people always assume your smut is what turns you on#and i really don't want to be associated with that#they have an easier time grasping when you're writing like gore that's not what you want to happen#people will not assume i actually want to butcher a pregnant woman for a satanic ritual#but will assume i'm turned on by dubcon or smth#how do people write short stories
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girl who just so happens to be a giant hare 🐰
#pestilence#oc tag#fnaf#hastag hoemer#dont know if i wanna make her look sillier r keep her like. hare🐰#need to work on her fit tho i like the formal look but i want to differentiate it more at least a little :3#ALSO okayyy okay i have ideas for what he looks like w/o the suit too tho n i think its acktually quite clever 😁#okay so the head and neck r furry n normal. so are the lower arms and a lower portion of her legs too#BUT the other bits of her arms and legs r skinned and just raw muscle. the chest has a small bit of muscle directly under the fur but it#dissipates and then its just bone around the bottom of the ribcage and the abdominal cavity is open concept 😋 n u can see her organs n shit#thai is a visual callback to springtrap and also representative of williams inner.... evil so to speak. like he puts on a mask a gentlemanl#fascade but underneath hes still the same old rotten corpse<3333333 yaay<333333333333#may r may not draw that next but just know i have BIG PLANS 😁😁😁😁😁
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Close-ups, more or less. Ignore any mistakes, I have learned.
#cult of the lamb#cotl#bishops#leshy#chaos#conquest#order#see no evil#heket#famine#satiation#speak no evil#kallamar#pestilence#cure#hear no evil#shamura#war#peace#think no evil#my art#cerberus253's art#narinder#death#do no evil#the one who waits
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has anyone thought about the 141 as the horsemen of the apocalypse or are my horny thoughts so incredibly niche i must suffer them on my own
#sophie speaks#well. we all know which emo motherfucker is death#i think soap would be war and gaz famine#and the other horse is most commonly seen as pestilence HOWEVER i think it severely fucks as conquest which would obviously be price#i should write a mini series#because im physically incapable of concentrating
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is there some kind of reasoning for why yoru looks like a potoo muppet?
so I think the theory for why she looks like that is because since part of her body got eaten by pochita causing people to no longer fear war as much she is very weak and that's why she is a weird tiny bird. I don't know why she's a bird/potoo specifically though or even if she is necessarily supposed to be a potoo as we only get one look at her before she possesses asa? the manga character page calls her owl-like but that might be a translation thing. anyways I imagine at some point we will get a look at full powered not possessing asa yoru which would be awesome i hope she looks freaky. and is still a bird
#askz#anon#speaking of birds makima actually has a connection to crows but that has to do specifically with her pestilence thing#i like it when people ask me csm questions im educating the masses
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I don't think i have felt this fully rotted-out since like. High school. Wow. This is ass. I remember why i would have liked to delete the full range of human emotions actually!
#mechaffeine speaks#vent post#in my head i am ripping and tearing at the nervous system for being so goddamn nervous. ach.#jamming fingers 'tween the ribs to wrest that bloody pump from mine flesh. i'm gonna get over it i always do but MAN ALIVE this is ASS.#can hardly stomach food for the stress. pestilence and plague upon this corpse of a body i pilot.#'just block the accounts that make you feel bad' i still need to help people the catholic guilt won't stop you see
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Update; 3.1.23
Hey y'all 👋
I am working on a Will Halstead X Reader fic atm, but I've been blessed with sickness once again - so it's taking me longer than I thought it would 😂😭
I'm really keen to get back in the saddle with my fics, so here's hoping the germs go away real quick. 🖕
Thank you for your patience ⭐🌟⭐
#anna speaks#can you fucking believe I'm ill AGAIN#the horseman pestilence must be in the UK i swear
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youtube
#bible prophecy endtimes#end times#endtimes#jesus is coming#bibleprophecy#youtube#faith in jesus#follow jesus#spread the word#time is running out#speak truth#seek the lord#christian nationalism#the Bible truth#pestilence#birth pangs#signs of the end times#wars and rumors of wars#jesus is returning#rapture of the church#jesus is the way#extreme weather#days of noah#days of lot#judgement of god#god save our children#time is over#stand fast in the faith#turn to god#you can be saved
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i need to make an elaborate post on the whole azrael causing the black death because she straight up went around, touching people and spreading it.... at least at first.
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"possession"
ryomen sukuna x reader [modern au]
Synopsis: you meet a strange, attractive man whose god complex that you have yet to discover proves to interfere with both your self-respect and the law.
to sum it up: sukuna is a man who sees himself above all people and is obsessed with you. when he gets jealous, he copes in sadistic ways
WC: 8,540
Warning(s): violence, mentions & use of a weapon, death/homicide, yandere themes, possessiveness, vulgar language
Your body trembled viciously as his figure stood over you, tall, prideful, and oh so frightening.
Your vision was blurry. You could hardly see what was standing directly before you due to the stress of the previous events and the tears that blurred your vision. Your hands gripped each shoulder as though your own body heat was the only thing that could save you now.
Unfortunately for you, however, nothing could save you from the looming presence of Ryomen Sukuna, black painted nails releasing the trigger of the gun he’d just pulled on your now deceased coworker.
It wasn’t that you liked the recent victim of Sukuna’s wrath any more than the next stranger. In fact, you had deemed him to be rather annoying. He had always found ways to pop himself into your day to day, whether it was by lingering next to your cubicle at the office for ten minutes too long before lunch, running into him on a whim at the grocery store and finding yourself subjected to his poor attempts at getting you to spend one on one time with him outside of the office, or waking up to a new follower on your Instagram- his name and profile greeting you desperately when you glanced at the screen.
You knew exactly what he was after, but you had paid him no mind. You were hardly a stranger to advances from acquaintances or passerbyers. After all, as well as your looks, you carried yourself in such a way that exuded class and mystery, poise and effortless beauty. You didn’t speak much to those who were not close to you, which was perhaps why you had gained so much attention. Your silent charm needed little to no verbal introduction from yourself. You caught enough glances simply by minding your own, keeping to yourself, and accomplishing your goals all rather contently. You did not desire the attention of other men, which, luck would come to have, was why you had always subconsciously gained it.
And gaining Sukuna’s had been a fluke all on its own.
The man kept to himself just as much as you did, but in a far less innocent way. He lurked about, observing, judging, despising, taking it upon himself to dispose of any being he deemed a pestilence to his existence. The god complex Sukuna embraced alone was enough to send you running, but for some reason when he first approached you, you did the exact opposite.
He was forward. Brazen. He had observed you days before actually meeting you, walking mutely into your office building from a nearby alleyway. He watched your thighs shift with each movement you took beneath the tight pencil skirt you adorned, heels clacking against the pavement deliciously. Though you had a reserved energy about you, you kept your chin held high and your eyes forward. You weren’t hiding, per say, but you were entirely too occupied with your own business to bother keeping up with the business of those around you. You weren’t shy, you were focused. Attentive. Not easily distracted.
Sukuna could not have understood why your presence intrigued him so much, to the point where he was waiting around your place of work until you clocked out, following you home, and memorizing the path you took to and fro so that he could organize a way to force himself into your life. Sukuna had witnessed and learned so much of humanity, how people concerned themselves so heavily with matters of each other to the point where they allowed their incomprehensible need to stick themselves into all matters led them to war, death, and the collapse of civilizations simply for them to be rebuilt by the next generations and for the same patterns too continue.
Human beings were so incessantly concerned with how others viewed them, with how the next person would react to the way they put one foot in front of the other, with whether their family members approved of their lifestyles or if their friends thought their hobbies were intriguing.
It was truly pathetic how human beings lived for each other, how many women so pitifully clung to his arm for a chance to even be considered someone he would spare a second glance at. Sukuna enjoyed the submission when it served him well, but Christ, were they all so whiny and needy, so desperate for someone else to see and love them when Sukuna made it perfectly clear in each circumstance that he could care less about what a weak girl could do for him beyond sexual subservience.
But you, you did not even look at him when you brushed past him and into the cafe that you visited regularly. You hardly even spared him a glance when he approached you at the counter as you were waiting for your coffee. It had angered him at first. Truly enraged him to see you refuse him so politely without even having to say a word or spare a glance. You could not have cared less what he wanted to say or had to offer, and it pissed him off but simultaneously sparked a desire to control you. One that he had not experienced for quite some time. You would make him work for it, and that in itself sparked his interest.
He wanted to own you, to possess you. He wanted you to belong to him, for you to come at his beck and call, for you to abandon your selfishness and crawl to him on your knees, crying, pleading for his touch and affection. He wanted you to be a mess at his feet, to be his plaything, his pet. He wanted to conquer you and bring those pretty (e/c) eyes of yours to tears as they finally snapped up to look at him.
“You,” his voice had greeted you gruffly.
You jerked slightly, turning to your left to find a tall figure leaning against the counter beside you. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him before. Your mind had been running over a project you had been assigned last minute in your head, and you were so occupied with your thoughts that you had completely missed the intimidating presence wafting off of the figure beside you.
He was a sight to look at, you had to internally admit to yourself. Spiky salmon hair splayed across his forehead and crimson eyes the shade of fresh blood boring into yours. His build beneath a black sweatshirt and sweatpants was bulky, muscles stretching the sleeves of the almost loose fabric. His eyes were bored, yet his brows were angled as though he were agitated. What for, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t help but shift beneath his unwavering gaze, for he stared at you as if you were the only person standing in the cafe.
You glanced behind you, looking around to find the person this odd man may have been addressing instead, but when you found no one you turned back around. “Me?”
His lips quirked up at the corners, a smile threatening to touch his mouth. “Who else does it look like I’m talking to?”
His voice was so deep, it practically rumbled the floor beneath your feet. He spoke lowly to ensure that you knew he was speaking directly to you, but his words were crisp and perfectly clear.
You were unsure of how to respond. Guys had approached you many times, but never in such a straightforward, expecting fashion. Never with such power, such overarching confidence that made you think just for a moment that you would stay a while to share a word or two with him.
“Can I… help you?” you asked cautiously, uncertainty swirling through your mind.
“What a silly question,” he sighed, tilting his head as his bicep pressed into the marble of the countertop, one knee bent while the other stretched out so that he was lounging rather casually in the way of the ‘pick up’ window.
His eyes glinted with mischief, shamelessly roaming over your body. You had the sense to take a small step back, which only fueled Sukuna’s lust for dominance over you. You watched as a wide smirk settled on his face, eyes drifting lazily back up to yours.
“Are you scared of me?”
The question caught you off guard. You could feel your lips curling in discomfort against your mind’s will, yet your heart panged with what you could not differentiate between what was either excitement or unease. His eyes carried such vibrancy as they danced across you, almost as though they weren’t human. Though unnerving at first glance, the man surely was attractive in a rather unusual, alarming way.
The way his lips, however, stretched over sharp pearly teeth with a smile that could only mean that he was up to no good struck your hesitant curiosity.
“I don’t know, should I be?” you questioned in return, raising a brow.
How unassuming and bold you were.
He replied with only a smug grin, tilting his head back as he gazed at you over his nose. “What’s your name?”
“Why should I tell you? I don’t know who you are.”
“That’s precisely why I’m asking. So we can get to know each other,” he hummed.
God, every red flag was waving aggressively in the back of your mind, screaming at you to take off into another direction, to turn away, grab your coffee, and walk out like nothing happened, but there was something deep within you that kept you planted there. Was it intrigue? Attraction? Perhaps a spell that had been cast on you to make you forfeit any pinch of sense you had left?
You weren’t sure, but whatever it was made you want to stay. You wanted to see where this would go, what line this oddball would throw at you to try to get you to come home with him.
You were nothing but completely and utterly curious.
But you know what they say about curiosity.
It kills.
You weren’t going to tell him your name, at least. You were smart enough to attempt to keep that barrier, but the universe had other plans. Before you could say anything more, the barista reached forward and slammed a styrofoam cup before you.
“Order for (Y/n)!” she announced loudly, looking directly at you with kind eyes. “Here you go, see you tomorrow!”
You smiled tightly, swiping the drink up in your hand. “Thanks, have a good one,” you said through a strained breath and clenched jaw.
The pink haired stranger pushed himself off of the counter slowly. He hummed intriguingly, half lidded eyes eating you alive. “(Y/n),” he repeated, your name rolling off his tongue like a prayer.
You shivered.
He held out a hand before you, the other shoved into his pocket. You examined it, the veins running across the back of his palm, the dark paint on his fingertips, the peak of tattoos sliding sheepishly out of his sweatshirt sleeve.
“Ryomen Sukuna.”
You didn't know what demon on earth possessed you to grasp his hand and shake it.
From that point on, Sukuna kept his interactions with you secluded to the cafe. He would wait for you to walk in, share a few words with you, hit on you shamelessly, then watch you walk to work from his spot at the counter.
You convinced yourself that there was no harm in the matter if he was only speaking to you in a public space. Though it was strange that he only came to the cafe to see you and that he never ordered anything, you figured it was better than him trying to turn up to your place of work or follow you after you had grabbed your morning coffee.
Sukuna observed you meticulously each time he saw you. You stepped out of the house very professionally, with your hair pinned up and your clothes modestly hugging your figure. You wore a bra and underwear beneath your clothing to maintain an appropriate appearance at work, which aggravated him to no end.
You wore little makeup over your face. Just a bit to cover a scar here or there and eyeliner to accentuate the shape of your eyes and gloss to coat your plump lips.
You had also grown more expecting of his company. While you remained reserved to some extent, you engaged in subtle banter with him each time he pushed his advances.
“Still holding out on me, princess?” he would ask with a sinister smirk.
“Don’t call me that.” you would reply, turning your head to hide the amused smile that touched your lips.
Thoughts of your lip gloss smearing over his mouth snapped into his mind at the very sight of your smile. He was going to ruin you.
Sukuna normally was not one for waiting, but he decided he would make an exception just this once. He wanted to make you feel safe, to ease into the attraction he knew that you felt toward him. He knew that if he tried to force you into him so early on, you’d turn away. And normally that wouldn’t have been a problem for him, but this was a game of minds. He needed you to want it before he moved, he needed you to prove that your facade of disinterest would fade and only fade for the sake of his domination over you, and he needed you to want it so badly that you’d cry for it.
So, he took his time.
Three weeks in, he asked to walk you to work.
Who were you to say no now that the two of you had grown so acquainted? What was the harm in a walk, after all?
On that walk alone, however, Sukuna observed something else about you. He observed how men’s eyes would linger each time you walked past and how you kept your gaze forward, completely numb to or unbothered by or disinterested in the stares. He noticed how quickly men would jump to hold the door for you when he would stop just at the entrance of your office building, glaring down at the poor soul who had managed to reach the door before he got a chance to. He noticed how consumed others were by your presence, how easily you made people stop and stare without trying or without caring. Sukuna knew thousands of women who fought ten times as hard to get half of the attention that was bestowed upon you throughout your daily life, and yet you did not care.
He could not understand what it was about you as he lifted his foot from the puddle of blood and brains he had stomped in hours after he had tracked down the poor sap who’s eyes flashed over your concealed tits on your morning walk together. He could not understand how you, a human, carried such an enticing presence, how the number of hands he severed and tongues he ripped out doubled over instead of reducing. How, no matter how many of those filthy pests he slaughtered for even glancing your way, there would still be more, and more, and more.
He was growing restless.
Over a month had passed, and Sukuna had yet to throw himself onto you. He himself was not even sure why by this point. He knew everything about you. What time you woke up in the morning, what your morning routine entailed, how you liked your coffee made from the cafe, the things you enjoyed talking about and looking at on route to work, the projects you worked on, what your favorite meal at lunch was, what time you clocked out, the days you put in overtime, what time you went to sleep- he had completely engraved himself into your life when it should have been the other way around, but for the first time in his life, he just did not know how to proceed. You were different, you were strange, you were just as much of a brat as any other woman, but you peaked his interest so much that it was enough for him to pause and ask why.
And Lord, you were gorgeous, one of the prettiest women he’d ever seen. Your (s/c) skin, your (h/c) hair, your supple figure, your laugh, your smile. You belonged with him, you were meant to be his, but fucking hell, he was beginning to grow impatient.
He knew that to some extent he was succeeding at getting you to be his, too. You were talkative, sarcastic, playful with him. Your eyes constantly met him when you talked and you had begun looking for him everywhere, in everything you did, in everything you felt. He had become a constant in your routine so quickly that the thought of him not nearby had begun to feel strange.
The tension that carried between the two of you was hardly a secret either. His eyes were heavy with desire, deep and mesmerizing, voice smooth like the slither of a serpent’s each time he bent over to whisper a joke into your ear or lowly call your name in address. His frame could put that of a god’s to shame though he often kept his muscles concealed due to the dreary weather, and his hands, oh his hands. The way they pressed to the small of your back to move you out of the way of something in your path, or reached to grab your coffee before you could and lift it to your lips, or how his veins bulged each time he grasped the handle of a door for you.
You wanted him bad. You couldn’t deny it anymore, but you still hardly knew him. He hadn’t revealed anything about his personal life to you other than his name. He didn’t work by the looks of it, and you had no idea where he was from or where he lived. He was a basket case, but that surely was not enough to ease the ache between your thighs that came each time he spoke to you, voice dripping with playful lust.
Sukuna could see you gradually melting before him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more, he wanted more, he had to have more from you, but what could he get without pouncing on you and springing at the wrong time?
“Have dinner with me.”
You paused before the door to your office building, turning to face Sukuna with parted lips. You needed to clock in within the next five minutes, but the crimson eyed man’s request had thrown you off kilter.
“Huh?” you breathed.
His face was hard, rather emotionless. His hand gripped the door above your head, his arm hovering over you as he looked down into your eyes. He looked deadly serious, not a trace of amusement anywhere to be found on his face.
“You heard me, woman,” he said gruffly. He leaned down, closing in on you, nose inches away from yours. “Have dinner with me.”
You had never been flustered by a man before. You were raised to be unaffected by their advances, to find little enchantment in the bare minimum that man graciously brought forward as though it was the world on wings. You had always been indifferent to men’s responses to your beauty, to their inviting hand, to their promises and boasts and pretty lies. You had wanted none of it, for you found your occupation and making a living for yourself to be far more important than matters of another man’s heart.
But the way Sukuna was looking at you, the way he caged you in as his gaze drank in the sight of you, the forwardness of his tone signifying that he would not take no for an answer, the mahogany scent emanating from his clothing and skin. He was intoxicating, and you both knew it, but for some reason you could not fight the burn in your cheeks and the rush of your blood.
“Are you asking me out, Sukuna?” you whispered.
His name sounded fucking incredible on your lips, where it belonged. He wanted to hear more. He needed to hear more. For fuck’s sake, he was tired of waiting. Tired of this little game he had forced himself to play. He needed you.
“You’re not an idiot, you know damn well what I’m doing.”
He was always so mean, the way he talked. Mean and vulgar and you shouldn’t have been aroused by it, but you were desperate for him. You liked him and you wanted him. Why? You weren’t sure.
“Where’s this coming from?”
“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?” Sukuna groaned. “Dinner. Tonight.”
“Ask me nicely and I’ll think about it.”
The tan skinned man’s teeth ground together, eyes slimming in agitation. You were so mouthy. He could have left you high and dry, completely abandoned this whole ordeal for giving him so much attitude, but he shamefully enjoyed it. He enjoyed how you tested your limits with him and how you didn’t even care about doing so. He enjoyed how you thought you had control, though you only held it because he was giving it to you for the time being.
He wanted to shut you up so badly, to throw you around, to wipe away that confidence instilled in you.
So he asked you to dinner.
“Don’t order me around, you brat.”
“Well then I guess I’ll have to turn down the offer,” you shrugged. You were quick to turn over your shoulder, leaving Sukuna reeling in shock. “Thanks for the walk. I’ll see you for lunch, yeah?”
Sukuna used his free hand to snatch your wrist in his and yank you back into him. You stumbled, a squeak squeezing past your throat as your body clumsily clashed into his. Your eyes went wide, your cute lips finally clamped shut. You stared up at him innocently, like a deer in headlights.
How cute you would have looked with that face if you were down on your knees before him.
He breathed in slowly, eyes raking over your face as he squeezed your wrist gently, holding you close to him. You could feel his breath fanning against your cheek. You looked down, face blazing and heart thudding so loud you were sure Sukuna could feel it against his chest.
He smiled.
“Cut that out and look at me when I talk to you,” he demanded, releasing your wrist to tilt your chin up with his index finger. Your glossy (e/c) eyes met his once more, the space between the two of you so small it should have been a sin.
“Sukuna, I-I need to get to work-”
“Not until you say yes,” he interjected, gripping your chin softly. “No games. Come have dinner with me. I’ll pick you up at nine.” He raised his brows, tilting his head up. “Hm?”
You could barely find the words to give him an answer. “I didn’t peg you for a dinner kind of guy,” you murmured, mind growing fuzzy with the feeling of his fingers on your chin holding you in place so that you couldn’t look away.
“That wasn’t an answer, (Y/n),” he mumbled firmly. “Dinner. Yes or no.”
You were hardly sure that he was going to let you say no, but you responded as though you had a choice in the matter anyway, for you couldn’t deny the eagerness that sparked in your gut when he proposed the notion.
He continued staring, waiting, watching. Eventually, you nodded as though in a trance, eyes never breaking away from him. “Okay.”
Sukuna grinned, finally releasing you from his hold. “Wonderful. I’ll see you tonight, then.”
You stumbled back, slightly discombobulated, unsure of whether what just transpired was a trick of your mind or indeed reality.
“Okay,” you whispered to yourself again, turning mechanically to enter the building as Sukuna proceeded to hold the door.
He could feel an urge for misconduct overtaking him as his smirk widened, watching in anticipation as you walked away. He had you exactly where he wanted you.
He was about to release the door when he felt a man brush past him and into the doorway, having taken advantage of a gesture that had been meant for only the girl ahead. “Hey, thanks man!” the brunette called over his shoulder halfheartedly.
Normally, Sukuna would have been irritated, but would have blown it off simply because he didn’t feel like bothering with such an insignificant interaction. He would have likely kicked his foot out so the guy could trip and then he’d go on about his day, leaving behind whatever idiot who sought to leech off of him out of pure convenience, especially since it seemed that this man was running late.
Sukuna would have walked away, thinking about all the ways he would consummate his possession over you within the next few hours leading up to your date without a single care in the world if what happened next had not caught his eye.
He watched the brunette, hair messy atop his head and a briefcase clutched under his arm, rush up behind you and gently touch your waist with his hand in greeting. You turned to identify the owner of this hand and visibly grew bored when your eyes landed on the kid’s face, but he proceeded to attempt to entertain you.
“You look nice today,” he had said. “Did you do something different with your hair?” he had said. “I followed you on Instagram last night, you should follow me back.”
You had not even responded with anything more than a disinterested hum as the two of you rounded the corner to the elevators, out of Sukuna’s sight. You didn’t care, but oh, did Sukuna find far more fault in that interaction than you did.
His smile completely wiped from his face and the door slammed in front of him after releasing it. The muscles in his eye twitched, his pupils shrank, and nose flared. He stood ominously still, frozen in his own rage, and something snapped inside him.
How dare that guy touch what was his?
This led you to where you sat crouched in the alleyway. Your date was meant to begin thirty minutes ago.
You had dressed up pretty in a small black dress and heels, hair down, legs bare, and chest exposed. You were a pure sight for sore eyes, drop dead gorgeous, and Sukuna was sure to tell you when he arrived at your home after you had texted him your address. Of course, you hadn’t known that Sukuna already knew full well where you lived.
You noticed something off about him the moment you opened the door. He wore a navy button up that was free of its first three buttons, leaving his chest tattoos exposed. His shirt was also untucked over wrinkled pants, and while you hardly expected him to dress like royalty, there was something rather… sloppy about the way he appeared before you that night.
And his eyes, those bright red eyes were alight with passion. A crazed look touched his irises as they gleamed in the street light. His hair was slightly ruffled too, and a wide, eerie smile revealed each and every one of his sharp, pearly whites. He did not look well, not mentally, and at that moment, you could feel your heart begin to sink to your toes upon the realization that something very wrong was about to happen.
He pulled you out of your doorway without even giving you a chance to lock the door and led you to a coupe parked sloppily next to your apartment complex. He held the door for you, and against your better judgment, you stepped in, wanting to blame your sudden discomfort on nerves or paranoia.
Sukuna rounded the car with thudding footsteps, throwing himself into the driver’s seat and pulling off with alarming speed. You kept your hands folded in your lap, eyes staring blankly ahead as your heart thudded against your ribcage. Sukuna was acting so strange, almost manic. Perhaps he struggled with mania and was having an episode? Or maybe he was just as anxious as she was, and was acting strangely due to nerves over his first date after a long time alone?
You wanted to make excuses for him so badly, to believe that this was some kind of misunderstanding, but deep in your gut, you knew that you were in danger. You knew that something was off and that this night was heading into a dark direction.
Sukuna said nothing as he drove, the sound of tires screeching against the pavement the only sound filling the rather empty silence. You tried to regulate your breathing, looking out the window frantically to attempt to memorize the twists and turns you took about the city. It wasn’t long before the car was slowing down, rounding an empty street and turning into a secluded alleyway.
You began to panic. It was dark and completely vacant aside from Sukuna’s car, which was now parked in the middle of nowhere. You sat up, whipping your head around to attempt to grasp an understanding of where you were and how you got here. Your eyes were blown wide and your panting had now grown audible.
Sukuna released the stick shift and leaned back, taking notice of your antsy behavior. He cooed, turning the car off and leaning over to you, resting his elbow on the back of his seat rest and grazing the back of your hair with his free hand.
You jumped, pressing your back into the corner against the window and curling your knees to your chest. You looked horrified, like a poor antelope facing the hunger of a lioness. Sukuna had previously thought that he wouldn’t have gotten off on this fear from you, but hell, had he been wrong. The freight in those glossy eyes, the wobble of your lips, the way your breasts threatened to pool out of the fabric of your dress with each heavy breath you took. He loved it.
“Come now, don’t fuss,” he urged gently, hand reaching to brush the side of your cheek. You tried to tilt your head up and away, but there was nowhere for you to run. “You don’t think I’m gonna hurt you now, do you?”
Your mind played a trick on you. Perhaps he wasn’t going to hurt you. Were you overreacting? Allowing your anxiety to motivate your reaction instead of logic?
You gulped a breath of air, eyes darting around frantically as Sukuna’s thumb brushed your cheekbone. “Wh-” you breathed. “Why are we here? What’s going on? Sukuna, where did you take me?”
That breathtaking, troublesome smile appeared on Sukuna’s face again as he admired her. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he spoke giddily, like a man on the verge of a mental break. “Don’t be so quick to go crazy on me. Relax.”
You chewed on your bottom lip, confused, afraid. You didn’t like this one bit. You didn’t like the look in Sukuna’s eye that accompanied the chaotic driving and the bizarre atmosphere.
You swallowed down a pool of saliva, body shaking involuntarily.
Ruby eyes melted over your body, watching the way your flesh trembled with your limbs.
“You dressed all pretty for me, huh? Tryin’ to get lucky on our first date, princess?”
“Sukuna,” you whimpered, pressing yourself further into the glass. “Why did you take me here?”
He stared at you for a few seconds longer before a hefty sigh filled his chest. He leaned back into his seat, pushing the car door open swiftly. “I’ll show you in a second. Be patient.”
The car door slammed behind him after he stumbled out. Your body jerked and you began to panic once more. You tried to shrink in on yourself, to make everything go away. You tried to gaslight yourself one more time into thinking that this ‘surprise’ would be pleasant, that this was some kind of twisted joke that Sukuna wanted to play and you’d be back at a nice restaurant in minutes.
You wanted to tell yourself that you wouldn’t have agreed to this date if you had believed Sukuna to be dangerous, but you couldn’t even convince yourself of that for more than a second.
Your gut instinct had been warning you to stay away from the man the second you met him. He was always isolated, yet he was charming. Alarmingly so. He placed himself into your life, stalking around for you at a coffee shop and waiting until you were comfortable for him to start asking to walk you to work. You had given him your number, your work address, your home address, access to your personal life, access to your vulnerability, and all the while your gut was begging you to turn away, to let this idea of this attractive man go before you got hurt.
But you stupidly chalked it all up to unwarranted paranoia, to fear of growing close to someone after having been closed off for all those years. You thought that something within you was trying to hold you back from finding happiness, that though Sukuna was hardly the person you would go for, you could have given him a chance, even if it was casually.
And that mouth of his should have been the telltale sign. The way he ordered things rather than asked for them, the way he looked at you with such expectation in his eyes, as if he knew you would fall for him in only a matter of time, as if he had planned it all out so carefully. It was all so disquieting.
You thought that a month had been enough time to know someone, but boy, were you wrong.
You shivered as the car rocked with the thrust of the trunk being opened. You could hear and feel a struggle as Sukuna lugged something heavy out from the back, the vehicle wobbling with the commotion. Suddenly, the car jumped forward as a thud hit the ground.
Your brows arched, but you didn’t dare to turn to see what was happening behind you. You didn’t want your eyes to confirm the first, dreadful thought that popped into your hand.
Heavy footsteps rounded the car again and Sukuna was outside your window, pounding on the glass. You ripped yourself away, turning to face him with petrified eyes. He yanked the door open, reaching in and grabbing your forearm to pull you out.
You cried out, horrified of what was to possibly come. Was he going to kill you?
“Shut the fuck up, Jesus,” he hissed, yanking you from your seat and pulling you onto your shaking feet. He closed the door behind you, pressing your body to him as you hyperventilated, hands tucked into you under your chin. “Shhh, quiet,” he pressed his lips to your ear, his voice lulling to a tender tone. “I won’t hurt you, but if you scream, I will have to punish you. Okay pretty girl?”
A weep broke past your lips as you scrunched your eyes closed, the reality of your situation crashing down like a tidal wave.
His hand gripped the back of your neck tightly, your body tensing beneath him. “Okay?” You nodded hysterically, sniffling as tears brimmed your eyes. “Good girl. Come on, now.”
Sukuna’s hands pressed firmly to your waist, guiding you forward to behind the car.
You didn’t open your eyes. You kept your face tucked to Sukuna’s chest, absolutely horrified to see what he was prepared to present to you.
You felt Sukuna stop you from moving. You trembled as he leaned in close beside you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Open your eyes,” he demanded, firmly.
A tear dribbled down your chin as you shook your head. “S-Sukuna, I can’t. Please-”
“Open. Your fucking. Eyes.”
With no other option, with no access to control, with your life at stake, you opened your eyes.
Your vision took time to adjust at first. The darkness of the alley hardly allowed you the privilege to see much ahead of you, but as you casted your gaze down, Sukuna’s ‘gift’ registered within your sight.
You smacked a hand over your mouth, stifling a scream. Sukuna’s hands caressed your back softly as you took in the sight, breaths stuttering into feeble gasps.
There before you lay your coworker, the very coworker who had been persistently flirting with you since the moment you arrived at the office. He lay unconscious, mouth duct taped shut and ankles and wrists bound tightly by rope.
But his face… you could hardly recognize it. It was bloodied and bruised beyond comprehension, features mangled into each other as though his head had been bashed in repeatedly. Blood matted into his chestnut hair and stained the white collar he walked into work wearing that very morning.
He looked half dead.
“There, see?” Sukuna exhaled contentedly, moving to step around you. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he chuckled, gesturing his arms out as if presenting a show. You stood in shock, eyes wide and mouth agape behind your palms. Tears spilled down your chin, dripping onto the ground and over your fingers.
Sukuna lowered his arms, a perplexed expression meeting his face. “What?” he drawled out. “Don’t tell me you cared about the guy. You didn’t look too interested in hearing what he had to say this morning.”
You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You were paralyzed with devastation, with heart stopping, blood curdling fear.
Sukuna shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning over to examine the body at his feet nonchalantly.
“I mean, I can hardly see why you’d care about him now, of all times, either. He doesn’t even look like a person anymore.”
He raised his leg and landed a harsh kick to your coworker’s head, his skull snapping to the side then falling limply against the pavement. You choked out, tilting your head down to avoid the scene.
Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Please, he’s just another insect at the end of a long line of pests I’ve killed for you.”
You stopped, lifting your bloodshot eyes to find Sukuna’s figure in the darkness. “W-What?”
“W-What?” the tan skinned man mocked, chuckling darkly afterward. “I told you before, you’re not an idiot. Stop acting like it.”
“What do you-” you lowered your trembled hands and revealed your tear drenched face. “You’ve… you’ve killed people before?”
“Again. You ask too many questions that you already know the answer to.”
Your skin went cold. You stumbled backward, tripping over your own heels and pushing yourself back against the brick wall. Your eyes were huge, terror-stricken, and your mascara was running, leaving dark streaks down your darling cheeks.
What a pretty sight, Sukuna thought.
“What the fuck,” you hissed, head rolling on your shoulders as you registered this confession.
Images of Sukuna reappeared in your head, the way he smiled at you upon greeting you at the cafe, how his eyes flooded with such passion when he looked at you, how he followed you around as if he never wanted to lose sight of you.
And you had liked it. You had looked forward to it. You had fallen for it all. You had grown blind to the signs that were blaring all around you because you actually liked him.
And here he was, standing before you with your half dead coworker at his feet, telling you that he had killed before- and for you, at the matter.
“What the fuck! What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” you cried, griping your hands in your hair. How could you have been so stupid?
“Here come the hysterics,” Sukuna grumbled.
“You- You’re a murderer! You’re a fucking murderer, and I let you- fuck!”
“‘Murderer’ is such a restrictive term,” Sukuna sighed. “That’s not what I am.”
“What the hell are you talking about! You’ve killed people! Look what you’ve done to a person I work with!”
“Princess, you have no idea what I am or what I can be,” he said deeply. He took a step forward, making slow strides over to you. You were quick to shuffle away, keeping your eyes glued to him as you tried to slither out of the space between the car and the wall. “I’m so much more than what you think,” he grinned. He sounded insane.
“Get the fuck away from me,” you barked. You were a mess, tripping over yourself, choking over your own words. Sukuna watched you, amused, taking his time as he approached you. “Get away!”
Your heel got caught against the rubber tire of Sukuna’s car, leading you to fall backward onto your back, your leg twisting beneath you. You winced, sweat beading your forehead as you looked up and found that Sukuna was already hovering over you.
He was slow to crouch down to meet your height. You leaned back on your elbows, watching as he leaned over you predatorily.
“Please,” you whined, anger melting into desperation. His red tinged palms reached out to your knees and slid up thighs, massaging the plush skin with lazy eyes and a lazy smile. “Please, Sukuna…”
“Keep begging, princess,” he slurred, craning his neck to press a soft kiss to your temple as he trapped you beneath his mass. You had never realized just how big he was until this very moment, his biceps caging over you and chest lingering inches away from your own. “It turns me on,” he whispered.
You closed your eyes, twisting your head away. This was wrong. This was bad, he was going to harm you, but you still could not deny the way his warmth swallowed you whole and how the softness of his lips against your head almost manipulated you into forgetting what was happening.
“C’mere, (Y/n),” he urged. “Don’t run from me.”
He pulled away to look down at you with those intoxicating eyes.
“S-Sukuna, you’re a monster,” you stammered through hushed, heavy breaths. He seemed unfazed by the accusation, for he had been called many things before.
“Come. Now.”
You did not have another choice.
You cautiously pushed yourself up from the ground, allowing Sukuna to wrap his arms around you and pull you up into him. He sat up, bringing you along with him to sit atop his thigh. He lifted your legs over his and rested his hands on your upper thigh and lower bum.
You sat stiffly, head pressed against the car door from the angle you sat. “Look at me.”
You obeyed.
He lifted his hand to wipe the tears from your cheek, smearing your mascara across your face. “You’re pretty when you cry.”
“S-Sukuna-”
“Quiet,” he snapped. “I’ve spent this past month doting on you. Trying to figure out why you caught my eye. When I first saw you in that tight skirt and those damn heels, I knew I wanted to fuck you.”
You stiffened, pressing your lips together tightly as he proceeded to wipe away at your tears.
“I know you wanna fuck me too, yeah?” he hummed. “But you’re not an easy girl. I see the way you act around men and how they act around you. You couldn’t give less of a fuck how they practically grovel at your feet. It’s kinda funny, you know? Seeing how pathetically you’ve got these people acting, but I’ll be damned if you don’t pay attention to me.”
His hand moved to cradle your jaw.
“I knew you were mine the second I spoke to you. But all these fucking insects keep trying to get in the way. Keep thinking they got a chance with you, so I have to put them in their place. Six feet under the ground.”
Your brows curled and your lips turned down, lump forming in your throat.
“But even so, none of those guys had the balls to touch you. They’d just look at you. Dream about you- dream about touching you. And that was enough for me to have to get rid of them, but then I saw the damndest thing this morning after I had just asked you out on a date.”
He jerked his head backward, gesturing to the body laying on the ground.
“This fucking moron walks past me and puts his hand on your waist, and starts telling you how pretty you are and all this shit. He was complimenting my woman. Touching my woman. Trying to fuck my woman. You know I had to do something about that, right? I couldn’t just let that slide, and I couldn't afford you making me look like a pussy.”
You furrowed your brows. “I wasn’t-”
“You’re mine,” he growled. He gathered your cheeks in his hand, yanking you close to him. You winced, scared eyes forced to stay on his for the umpteenth time. “You belong to me. Nobody else gets to touch you, nobody else gets to talk to you, and nobody else gets to breathe your air. You’ve given me the greatest headache of my fucking life and I won’t let a puny man try to challenge my name or try to take what rightfully belongs to me,” he spat, giving your head a jerk. “I’ve killed more people than that pretty little head of yours can count, and I’ll keep doing it as long as people like him so much as spare a glance into your direction. I’m done playing games with you, girl. You’re stuck with me.”
There was no air left for you to breathe, no room for you to even respond to what Sukuna was saying to you. The man hadn’t even properly tried to date you, and he had already taken ownership over your entire being, to the point where he had taken lives.
He smiled condescendingly at you, taking in your sloppy features. “But you wanted that, didn’t you? You wanted to be mine?” He pulled you in, lips practically brushing your squished ones. “Say it. Tell me how much you want me.”
You hated how despite his heinous crimes, despite his brutality, despite his unbridled possession over you, you still reacted helplessly to his force, to his touch, to his voice, to his presence. Those eyes of his could have pulled you into a trance, devilish smirk churning something deep within your gut.
He killed people. He was about to kill your coworker. He saw himself as a god, as above people. He was insane. He saw you as an object, something to physically possess. He didn’t respect you. He never did. It was about control.
But those eyes, but that voice, but those hands, but that goddamn smile.
You were putty in his hands, though your mind screamed at you to push away and fight back, to call the police, to land a blow to his face.
You were terrified of him, but he had you just where he wanted you. You were too weak. Weak for him.
“Say it,” he teased, leaning further in, brushing his lips past yours and pressing them to your damp cheek. “Tell me you need me. Say my name.”
You hated yourself in that moment. God, you wanted to hate him too, and you did, but not enough to pull away. Not enough to fight back. Not enough to muster up whatever self respect you had lost and say to hell with him.
Your fingers reached to clung to the collar of his shirt and you could practically felt his smile widen against your skin. He eventually released your jaw and your lips parted, the intimacy of his closeness melting your mind and blurring your senses. You swore this man was a drug.
When he leaned back to look at you, the same sense of expectation lingered in his eyes. He knew that no matter how far he went, no matter what he did, he would have you wrapped around his finger. He had broken past the wall you’d forced up. He’d tricked you into trusting him, into needing him, into yearning for him. He had succeeded in his goal, having found a way to make you submit to him willingly. To make you say and do as he pleased.
You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but the warmth of his palm sliding up and down your bare thigh, far softer than he’d ever handle the people who have died at his hand, and his piercing gaze awaiting your response as his forehead brushed against yours was enough for you to give in.
“I need you,” you sobbed out, pathetically. “I need you, Sukuna.”
He beamed. “There it is.”
His lips were on yours in seconds, molding passionately to meld into the shape of your mouth. He could feel a fresh set of salty tears slip down your face and he pushed in harder, grabbing the back of your head and gripping your hip securely. He tilted his head, plunging his tongue past your lips to entangle heatedly with yours. You tried to pull back to breathe, but he had none of it.
He pressed you back into the side of the car, devouring your lips as if you were his last meal. You reached your arms up and around his neck, pulling him closer, sinking into the vibrance of his grip and his lips against yours. He groaned, yanking your thighs close and slipping a hand between them, large digits dancing over the warm plush of your inner thighs. You moaned softly, brows pinching together as sharp teeth sank down into your bottom lip.
You gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself from the dizziness he made you feel. He yanked away, ducking down to nip at your neck. “Mine,” he hissed, curving into your soft body, breathing raggedly.
You nodded mindlessly, tilting your head back as Sukuna marked all over the expanse of your throat. His lips smoothed all over you, trailing down to your collarbone and over your breasts. His teeth were sharp, breath hot, lips wet and velvety despite his hardened exterior.
He picked his head back up, kissing your chasing lips gently before pulling back, kiss-swollen lips cracking a smile. “I almost forgot,” he began.
You looked at him in a daze, eyes hazy as he slipped your arms from around his neck. He carefully maneuvered you off of him and stood. You watched him blankly, disoriented and heated. You observed him grab the handle of the back seat to his car and yank it open, leaning over the seat to retrieve what you discovered to be a gun.
Suddenly, the haziness of the previous moment had faded, the weapon clutched within Sukuna’s hand breaking the glass cage that he had trapped you in.
He loaded it, pushing the ammo into the slit by the hilt of his palm with ease and pointing it upward. He turned over his shoulder to smirk down at you as you drew your knees into your chest, gradually registering what you were now involved in.
“Let me take care of this kid first, princess, and then you’re all mine.”
#jjk fandom#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryomen sukuna#jjk ryomen#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#jjk s2#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna au#modern au#anime#sukuna smut#yandere
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I can't help but think of him
#Spotify#ahs#american horror story#ahs apocalypse#michael langdon#cody fern#character soundtrack#samael#metal i use for everything#but it does remind me of mike#the lyrics especially#pestilence speaks#ahs fandom#horror fandom#metalhead
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Since you're at the doctor's, medical headcanons. Who's afraid of needles, who's the biggest baby when sick, who insists that everyone just let them die, etc. etc.
Short answer before long one bc I have to drive but:
They're all deep, deep into the morass of the horrors and miracles of The Flesh.
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The Karakura kids are weird because Ichigo's dad is an emergency trauma doctor and Ichigo's family loves above the clinic. Any time his friends come over there's a round of "so what wild shit happened in the ER since last time?"
(continued under the cut)
Uryuu's dad is also a surgeon, and the thing that gets him and Ichigo back on speaking terms again is more or less second-hand shop talk.
Orihime has been obsessed with emergency medicine since her brother died. She wanted to know what she should have done, and can do so it won't happen again.
Keigo has been carrying a first aid kit in his backpack since he became friends with Ichigo and Tatsuki in middle school. He's got an exceptional talent for patching someone up enough to get through English class without the teacher noticing the injuries after a lunchtime brawl.
Tatsuki started peeking over Orihime's shoulder at her notes on joint trauma and developed a talent for targeting her kicks and punches to deal maximum damage in karate tournaments.
Mizurio knows a suspicious amount about neurology and how pain works because his "uncles" keep telling him about techniques used by enforcers to extract payment or information.
Chad got heavily into Oxacan folk medicine because once he stopped getting in fights, he needed something else to occupy him, and his abuela decided to teach him how to cook. There is not a huge difference between good food and good medicine. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of chemoreactive plants and chemistry you can do on a stove.
Every single one of the Karakura kids has had something medical happen to them or a loved one, and every single one is now peering into the mysteries of the flesh about it.
---
The shinigami are worse.
Shinigami broadly have better physical resistance, esp because they're reaping the injury stabilizing benefits Senjumaru wove into the Shinigami Shushako.
But they live in a feudal society that has only SOME of the benefits of modern medicine, and the few instances of disease-mitigating infrastructure are far between. It's COMMON for the souls of the rukongai and Seireitei alike to have a sibling who died in infancy or a parent who died in child birth or of an infection.
Societally, they are still in the very earliest phases of the war against pestilence and it gives one a very warped perspective on all things medical. Especially if you happen to be in the immediate sphere of influence of soul society's greatest warrior against death:
Retsu Unohana.
I cannot overstate the impact this woman has had, and you don't do things like "decimate the nationwide infant mortality rate" or "pioneer organ transplant surgery" without being a bit mad, and she has lived so long and done so much that the madness has clarified into a single extremely dense point of determination and she warps the reality of those around her. Woe and Blessings alike to those within her event horizon.
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The Arrancar are even worse.
Hollow resilience to injury allows them to body much, much worse injuries than the humans and it has an impact on etiquette. Biting off a hand because someone won't stop bothering you is a normal way to establish a boundary. Limb loss and regrowth is common, and disembowelment about as serious as a bad cold.
The food situation is even more dire. Smaller hollows, ones that used to be plants or animals or human-hollows who have a modicum of self control are weak, but lucky. They can survive off the ambient reiatsu in the atmosphere of Hueco Mundo, or the naturally cleaving fragments of soul that fall off the living.
Everyone else needs to hunt. And the more powerful a hollow becomes, the more it needs to consume, and the richer it's prey must be. The only really rich souls are other sapient beings. Any hollow at the level of Shrieker or Grand Fisher or higher is trapped in a hellish metabolic cycle of cannibalism, and the only way out is through.
The primary killer of hollows is other hollows. They know what they're doing. They're looking their fellow beings in the eye, the ones who understand them best, and deciding that their own life is worth their friend's. For all their ability to handle the slings and arrows of physical trauma, hollows are worse at handling the emotional consequences of this cycle. Monstrous Egotism is a best case scenario for them.
In practice, this means that while it's perfectly acceptable to bite someone's hand off for annoying you, it would be rude of you to spit it back at them. At least eat it!
I realize this last bit is not, strictly speaking, medical, but you can see how the ability to survive being turned into an anatomical Venus and having to live on a diet of the flesh of others would completely recontextualize how hollows think about Illness.
---
I will do the fun individual headcanons when I get home, but this is a good broader framework to consider for now.
#aeiwam#an elephant is warm and mushy#bleach#bleach fanfiction#medical#horror#bleach is very much a horror manga and the fic very very much reflects that
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BENEATH A CRIMSON SKY ~ Masterlist
pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader
genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance
summary:
The day they came, the sky ran red. Red like cherry candy. Red like blood. You watched on TV as the beginning of the end of the world was aired, live; as down the ramp of what must have been a spaceship came a white horse, shining and resplendent, bearing a rider that was the opposite - sallow faced and guant, arms too long and spindly with too thin skin stretching over fragile ribs. You knew it then. You knew it, as if the thought had been planted in your head, a seed of fear and wrongness. This is your end, you heard, in a voice as black and velvet as night, and with so much depth it was as if there were thousands speaking at once. It cleaved through your head: The first horseman has come. After that came a dreadful uncertainty: humanity was on its knees, floundering, woefully unprepared, and yet, you still found hope. You learned that sometimes, hope does not come in the form you think it will. Sometimes, hope is eight strays that worm their way into your heart, regardless of whether you like it or not.
warnings: 18+, violence and gore, eventual smut, elements of horror/thriller (not really, i'm a pussy), dark themes - more individual warnings to come in chapters
total word count: 14.8k
chapters and taglist under the cut
Chapter 1 ~ The Survivors Chapter 2 ~ Late Night Tears Chapter 3 ~ Painkillers & Pleas Chapter 4 ~ Pestilence Chapter 5 ~ Visions Chapter 6 ~ Calm Before the Storm
taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable @lovemepie67 @needsumcomfypillowstosleep @loumin908 @rxlvvrz @iris-iiridescent @brbwritingfanfic @missseoulite @juliettejwnewinesa (let me know if you want to be added)
#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids x y/n#stray kids apocalypse au#apocalypse#apocalypse au#skz apocalypse#stray kids#skz x reader#ot8 x reader#skz ot8 x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#stray kids au#skz au#bang chan x reader#minho x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han x reader#jisung x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#yongbok x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#in x reader#skz smut#stray kids smut
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TSAMS Cult Of The Lamb AU
Solar as The Lamb
Nexus/Moon as The One Who Waits. Narinder, Bishop of Death
Lunar as Leshy, Bishop of Chaos
Earth as Heket, Bishop of Famine
Sun as Kallamar, Bishop of Pestilence
KillCode/KC as Shamura, Bishop of War and Wisdom
A lamb, Solar, the last of his kind, was brought before the 4 Bishops of the Old Faith, KillCode, Sun, Earth and Lunar, to be sacrificed, fearing the prophecy that he would release The One Who Waits, Nexus the God of Death.
Upon opening his eyes after believing he would die forever, the lamb finds himself in the realm of The One Who Waits. He tasks him with the mission of starting a cult in his name, and defeating the Bishops of the Old Faith to be freed from his chains. Thus, he grants him his crown, the Red Crown that would give him powers. Finally he promises him that no matter how many times he dies on his journey, he will always revive him to continue his duties.
Solar spent a long time starting the cult, indoctrinating followers, defeating heretics and beasts, gaining the faith that would make him stronger and therefore, make Nexus stronger.
Little by little, he defeated each Bishop.
Lunar, Earth, Sun, KillCode.
“Five becomes four, becomes three, becomes two, becomes one, becomes nothing.”
Nexus was chained in his realm for defying his brothers by wanting to manipulate life as well as death. Not before giving battle. Lunar lost his eyes, Earth his throat, Sun his rays, KillCode part of his skull.
See no evil. Speak no evil. Hear no evil. Think no evil. Do no evil.
After the defeat of the eldest of the siblings, Nexus tells Solar that it is time to return the Red Crown and leave him completely free, to reign as was his right.
Solar...
He did not accept.
Fearing to die after giving up the Red Crown, as his last battle, the lamb decides to face Nexus. Brother of the Bishops of the Old Faith.
Back then known as Moon.
Solar defeats him. And spares his life, informing him that from now on he will be part of his cult, as the new God of Death.
Still, as the next mission entrusted by ????, the lamb faces the Bishops once again, bringing them out of the afterlife and just like with their brother, turning them into followers of his cult.
#the sun and moon show au#sun and moon show au#the sun and moon show#sun and moon show#tsams#sams#tsams au#sams au#tsams nexus#tsams solar#tsams sun#tsams lunar#tsams earth#tsams killcode#tsams kc#tsams moon#tsams new moon#cotl#cotl au#cult of the lamb#tsams cotl au
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There was a time in which Malleus had come to loathe his own name. Whether said in apprehension or in praise, it always sounded wrong when others spoke it. As they uttered the awful sound, they seemed to barely refrain from making a face, as though the words tasted of ash in their mouths.
It was difficult not to take such things personally. To watch them spread when he came, whispers of fear on their tongues, as though he were pestilence itself.
Could you not sense the danger, as they did?
A month ago, he may have thought you were the only one who saw his gentle nature. The one who saw the ‘true’ him.
Not the awful creature, but your friend.
Things have a way of changing, he supposes. How fast a breeze can blow away any sense of familiarity, stripping the air of comfort and leaving only a lingering melancholy.
You used to call him Tsunotaro. It was almost hopeful, if only for a moment; if he was not Malleus Draconia, then he could be anything and everything he wished. The sweetness with which you called him was completely unintentional on your part, yet it did not stop his disobedient heart from skipping a beat.
And yet, he knew it would all come tumbling to an ungraceful end. This was the way of things; once you discovered his true designation, there would be no more chances for him to pretend that he was not who he was, whatever that meant.
Malleus never knew which part of him kept the others away. Was it his name? His appearance? His status? Or maybe, he’d think (late at night when the moon was the only one else awake), he was everything that was wrong with him. Maybe it wasn’t being a powerful prince, maybe there was something inside of him, a poison rooted deep that everyone could see.
A month ago, he would’ve dismissed the thought. Now, as he stands outside the gates of Ramshackle, he is not so sure.
You’d said his name once, before everything. As nice as it had been to finally have a friend to nickname him, hearing you say his true name was something different.
When others spoke it, they grimaced. When you spoke it, you beamed. As though he was something worth beaming about, not something twisted to avoid at all costs.
They were the same words, the same vowels and consonants, but coming from you, his name transformed from something shameful, something he dreaded, into something…wonderful. He hoped you would say it for him again, maybe speak his name all day for him to listen. He couldn’t get enough.
You say his name again now, but it’s different. There’s a weight to your voice, a strain which was never there before. Things have changed, and it’s his own fault.
All he ever wanted was to make things right - to let everyone be happy. Instead, he’s only proven the whispers right.
He stares into your fearful eyes, his own reflection gazing back.
He doesn’t see your friend anymore. He sees the monster they all call him.
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Post-overblot malleyuu angst to hurt the soul <3
#inspired by ‘first time’ by hozier <33#twst x reader#malleus x reader#malleus draconia x reader#malleyuu#malleus draconia#twst#twisted wonderland#k.concepts
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A big thanks to you and your team for making Pentiment, it's an amazing game and it'll be with me for a long time I think, especially the personal and emotional character writing.
I'm curious about what was the inspiration behind, and creative motivation for including, the motif of the labyrinth. The church's painting of the Virgin Mary with the labyrinth seems striking in particular, especially because I don't remember ever coming across a strong association with labyrinths in Christian imagery.
Thank you. I'm glad it was so impactful.
Labyrinths have a long association with Christianity going back to the 4th century, when one was placed in a cathedral in Chlef (now in Algeria). This is known as the St. Reparata or St. Reparatus Labyrinth.
The Chartres Labyrinth was built around 1200.
Christian labyrinths are meant to be walked while contemplating. The path twists and turns, but there is only one way to go. They also all clearly take inspiration from labyrinths of the classical world even if their purpose and origins are effectively lost to those who see them.
As Beatrice says to Andreas (paraphrased), the foundations of our memories become buried and invisible. And she is paraphrasing and abbreviating Plato speaking to Solon in Timaeus,
whatever happened either in your country or in ours, or in any other region of which we are informed-if there were any actions noble or great or in any other way remarkable, they have all been written down by us of old, and are preserved in our temples. Whereas just when you and other nations are beginning to be provided with letters and the other requisites of civilized life, after the usual interval, the stream from heaven, like a pestilence, comes pouring down, and leaves only those of you who are destitute of letters and education; and so you have to begin all over again like children, and know nothing of what happened in ancient times, either among us or among yourselves. As for those genealogies of yours which you just now recounted to us, Solon, they are no better than the tales of children. In the first place you remember a single deluge only, but there were many previous ones;
I also wanted the association with the labyrinth from The Name of the Rose, which in turn was inspired by the Reims Labyrinth.
The Reims Labyrinth was constructed in the late 13th century but was destroyed in the 18th century by superstitious priests. It was through the discovery of drawings that modern scholars were able to recreate and project the path of the labyrinth onto the cathedral floor.
The cover of the 1st Italian edition (and therefore, first edition overall) of Il Nome della Rosa prominently incorporated the drawing of the Reims Labyrinth.
Note the map of the Aedificium:
The final lines of The Name of the Rose are:
Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
The original rose remains only in name, we hold those names stripped.
This refers to a specific object in the story, but more broadly symbolizes historical records, art objects, and other artifacts lost to time. The Reims Labyrinth remains only in drawings, stories, and light projected on the ground where it once stood; the labyrinth itself was destroyed.
Nomen est; res non est. - The name exists; the thing does not.
As a side note, France uses the Reims Labyrinth as its symbol for historical monuments - an important reminder of how fragile their existence can be.
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