#tw child murder

[hussyknee]

People seem to think this is fake because it's written in English. Apart from the racism in believing that Arab doctors and nurses aren't fluent in English (a second or official language for half of Asia), Palestinians have deliberately been addressing their audience in English on every social media, from journalists to children, because they know speaking English to Westerners immediately makes people more human in their eyes. Because language is one of the ways the imperial cultural hegemony conditions us (yes, everyone in the world) to see who qualifies as "people" and who are simply a mass of bodies who were always made to suffer and die. Gazans know this deeply, which is why they have been using English to beg and plead through social media, "We're not numbers! We're not numbers! We're people like you, we speak your language, we deserve to live!" all the while they're systematically slaughtered.

Israeli forces also encircled Al Shifa Hospital yesterday and bombed it for several hours while shooting dead anyone trying to flee including medical staff moving between buildings. Not sure whether it's still continuing because WHO lost all communications with its staff there a few hours after. The last new report said that thirty-nine babies had been removed from the incubators before the power went out. It's extremely unlikely they will survive.

Please understand that these atrocities depend on the war of attrition between governments and public attention. The momentum of public outcry is difficult to sustain through repeated stonewalling and bureaucratic intractability. When we're flooded with these reports and a sense of futility and despair replaces the anger, it allows compassion fatigue to set in and the violence to become normalized. Massacring hospitals, killing sick children and openly targeting humanitarian aid workers (Netanyahu just declared the UNRWA is in league with Hamas) will become simply more news articles that fade into the background, and open genocides will soon become part of the "lesser evil".

Take care of yourselves how you can, take distance where needed, but please never tune out and give up on the two million people for whom we are the only witness and hope. Never stop boosting and sharing the news and posts you find, never stop getting out there and joining every protest you can, however small. Anger burns out, which is why activism must depend on an immovable sense of justice and uncompromising value for human life. It's not just about Gaza, it's about the kind of evil our generation will be coerced into accepting as unchangeable and inevitable hereafter.

[doctorsiren]

Part 1

next ->

[aromantic-goldfishdeactivated202]

[faeriekit]

Feet on the Ground

loose phic phight fill for @oldfashionedbattlehymn

warnings for: murder attempt, discussion of child death

********

Danny wakes up in a garbage bag.

It isn’t as gross as it sounds. Danny’s the only thing in there, and it’s not like the lack of air is going to kill him; he could rip his way out, but honestly, going intangible is just as effective and twice as easy.

And, of course, once he’s phased his way out of the dumpster behind the gas station, Danny is very, very grateful that he didn’t even try. Everything else in there is….eeugh. He shivers.

Well. It’s got to be early morning now—it’s dark. There’s no other cars on the highway. Even the gas station itself is closed, and the stars have already lost their spark.

Time to head home.

*

Danny wakes up behind the gas station. Again.

…Okay?

The first time, Danny had just assumed he’d fallen asleep somewhere weird while flying around the neighborhood, but a second time is a pattern. It’s definitely not his fault this time either, because there’s no way he would have duct taped his arms and legs together or slapped a gag on his mouth.

That’s kind of. Ominous.

Danny frees himself of the garbage bag first— and thank goodness he doesn’t have to breathe— he floats himself out of the bag and the dumpster, which had…thankfully been given a good scrubbing since last time? There’s some other trash, apparently, but nothing sharp enough to cut through his durable, tape-based bonds. It takes some finagling and some eye lasers for Danny to finally get his arms free.

And. Hoo Boy. There’s no more liberating a feeling than peeling tape off your mouth, even if your mouth skin kind of comes off with it and you bleed a little. But it’s fine! It’s green, which means it’ll heal.

Fabulous. Danny zooms off invisibly into the night, more than willing to put the night behind him.

*

…Okay, the third time is what makes it more than a coincidence.

Danny shucks out of the bruise-tight ropes around his wrists, torso, knees, and legs, spits out his gag, and flies home. He finally has to give into the inevitable, and attempts the last resort:

“Jazz?” he whispers, slowly rocking his sister in her bed. Jazz mumbles in her sleep.

“Jaaaaazzy…” Danny tries again, trying not to look either too spooky or too imposing. Jazz’s reflexes are such that—

The laser she keeps under her pillow goes off. Danny loses a few millimeters of hair, which means that her aim is getting better.

 He doesn’t have any trouble seeing in the dark (or, uh, not anymore, anyway), but it’s easy to see Jazz’s sleepy squint as she pulls herself somewhat upright. More like a shrimp with scoliosis, but, well. You know.

“Whuh,” Jazz asks. “...Danny?”

“Hey,” Danny whispers, a ghost at her bedside. Jazz grunts. “Uh. What does it mean when you keep waking up in a trash bag behind the gas station?”

Jazz blinks. Jazz rubs her eyes. Jazz blinks again, looking more sleepy than coherent but at least somewhat aware of her surroundings.

“Garbage bag?” Jazz asks blearily. “You were in a garbage bag?”

“Yeah,” Danny whispers back. “My legs were tied down?”

“...Danny, were you murdered?”

Danny stops.

“Huh?” says Danny.

*

“So, if you look here,” Tucker points out, finger not quite touching the glass of his CRT monitor, “That’s when Danny gets murdered.”

There is a collective eeew from the assembled viewers— Jazz, Sam, and Danny, all crowded in Tucker’s room.

“Yeah, Tucker agrees. The light from the black-and-white footage flashes in the reflection of his glasses. “Here’s where he’s tossed in…there. And this is when they tossed him in the dumpster.”

There’s no sound on the gas station surveillance footage, but Danny imagines that his body clanged on the way in. What the hell. Danny got murdered behind a gas station, and he didn’t even notice?!

They watch the archived footage of a Ford F-150 driving off the property, and then Danny’s dead body being unceremoniously tossed in a dumpster. It’s kind of surreal. No one had noticed. There was no one to report the crime committed.

“I can’t believe that guy just clocked you over the head, like that,” Sam points out. “It’s just a regular car jack. It shouldn’t have gotten you in the first place.”

The observation isn’t appreciated.

“Be nice! My brother was just murdered,” Jazz scolds. Danny doesn’t think she sounds as offended as she should be. “Either way, it’s certainly an attempted murder, if not a successful one. We have to do something.”

“…Can’t we just call the cops?” Tucker asks, turning away from the computer. “I mean. Look. That’s proof. We have proof right here.”

Sure enough, there is footage. Right there. There’s Danny’s murder, in 240p black and white.

“Where’s the body?” Sam asks dryly, and. Uh. That’s a problem they’ll have to solve.

Everyone looks at everyone else. No one has a good solution.

“…Do we have to do this?” Tucker realizes at the same second as the rest of them.

Jazz looks at Danny. Danny looks at Sam. Sam looks at Tucker.

Tucker stares back at them, entirely unenthused with the conclusion they’ve come to.

“…Okay then,” Jazz exhales. “How do you want to do this?”

*

Sam ends up on top of the gas station, a cell phone in her hand.

Tucker, PDA in hand, sits in Jazz’s passenger seat. The camera feed is ongoing and recording for posterity.

Jazz taps her fingers on the wheel of her car. There isn’t anywhere better to hide than down the road and around the corner, so she does, hoping that they’re on the other end of the road from whoever’s killing her brother every night.

Danny is, of course, wandering through the neighborhood.

Losing her baby brother—on purpose—is the worst thing Jazz can imagine. She feels sick. She wants to throw him into the car and speed away, and break every speed limit law in the county on her way out. She wants to pack him in bubble wrap and ship him expedited to France.

But she does leave her brother alone. She lets Tucker look over the footage as Danny roams around town, just as unaware and unsuspecting as his last few outings.

Tucker sees the man first.

He bolts upright, eyes on his PDA. “Jazz.”

Her head whips around. They watch, silently, as someone approaches Danny’s lone figure on the doorstep outside the gas station.

They can’t hear anything. That’s the scariest part.

“Call,” Jazz demands. Tucker does.

Doubtlessly, on the roof of the gas station, Sam is dialing too.

*

So. Danny knows this guy.

And. Uh. It’s kind of embarrassing; he’d asked if Danny was okay walking home alone at night a few hours before his dumpster wake-up call, and Danny had said it was fine.

Apparently, no, it wasn’t fine. That being said, Danny hadn’t been expecting a guy in a button-up and khakis to be the guy murdering him on the down low. He kind of looks like the dude who sells you televisions and burner phones at a Wal-Mart.

The guy comes all the way over to where Danny is sitting on the thin concrete step of the gas station. His breath fogs up from the weather and his eyes rake over Danny, up and down; down and up.

“Hey,” he says, looking all the world like any other concerned citizen. Danny’s heart throbs. “It’s cold outside. You need a ride back to town?”

“…No,” says Danny, who doesn’t.

“Your mom okay with you comin’ home late by yourself?” the man asks nervously, hands going to his hair.

Danny thinks about how many times he’s woken up in the dumpster. He thinks about seeing his own body on the camera tape. Prone. Dead.

“You still keep a car jack in your passenger seat?” Danny asks instead.

The man freezes. An attempted murderer he might be, but he’s not exactly an Oscar-winning actor. “What?”

“The car jack,” Danny repeats. He doesn’t know if he’s mad the man keeps targeting him, or whether he’s grateful Danny’s the only one who’s died so far. “It’s got a lot of sharp corners. They hurt, you know.”

The man…carefully laughs the statement off, but he looks. Nervous.

Danny doesn’t really need to confront him; he only has to stall long enough that Tucker or Sam can call the cops, so that they can see this man’s face and get him on the record. But.

There’s a part of Danny…

The man looks so human. Flush with blood. Solid enough to break. Fragile enough to be made broken.

Danny still resents being made dead. This man didn’t kill Danny—not in any way that mattered, but he’s an easy target.

He doesn’t breathe. The man watches a boy sit in the shadows of a building where he’s been dumping bodies, and Danny can taste his fear.

“It hurt a lot,” Danny says, and he isn’t referring to waking up in the bags every couple of mornings in the last few weeks. “It hurt so much. I was screaming.”

The man is silent.

“Do you like to hear the screaming?” Danny asks, suddenly curious. Did he care, if Danny had screamed, or if he had been too unaware to notice he was dying? Would he have cared, if there were others more breakable than Danny that he had hurt?

He doesn’t answer.

“I don’t like it,” Danny confesses. In a horrible way, it’s easy to tell his would-be murderer about his death—unlike Tucker or Sam, who witnessed it, or Jazz, who loves him, this man can’t be affected by Danny’s take on his own death. In fact, if he is hurt by the thought of Danny’s death…good. It’s better if he is. If there is remorse in him. “I don’t like to hear screaming. I screamed for so long, and so loud. It felt like forever.”

The man’s hands curl. He steps back.

Danny can’t help but to frown. If he leaves, the whole point of calling the cops will be for nothing, and he’ll be warier of coming back to where Danny’s body was dropped. “Where are you going?”

The man takes another step back. Danny rockets upright. He’s on his feet in seconds. “Weren’t you here for me?” Danny asks, genuinely confused, arms outstretched. “We’re here. You dumped me here over and over again.”

“Shut up,” the man snaps, startling the both of them with his volume. “He—you’re not real. You’re… Be quiet. I have real things to get done tonight!”

Danny’s dead heart throbs. Is there another dead kid? Did Danny let another kid get killed in Danny’s place? “Do you?”

The man loses his voice.

“We’re already here,” Danny points out. He steps closer—closer to the truck that drove his dead body around town, further from the dumpster where his body had been dropped. The disposal hadn’t been a funeral, but it’s closer than anything Danny’s ever had. “You’re here. I’m here. Aren’t you here for me?”

A choked breath. Danny gets closer. The ectoplasm in his skin is too warm and too cold—but he has no idea what he looks like from the outside. Is he glowing? Is he see-through? Does he just look like any other dead kid: a little too cold, a little too pale?

They’re eye to increasingly shorter eye. Up close, the man just looks like any other guy. Shaved in the face. Wrinkles around his eyes. A nose. A mouth.

Danny’s not afraid of him. His head tilts. “You’ve already killed me three times. What are you going to do now? I’ll just come back again. I won’t even notice. I died. I know what you look like—I know how to find you. It’ll be easy.”

The man’s pupils dilate—

And then there’re hands on Danny’s neck. And. It’s kind of painful, but Danny doesn’t have to breathe. So. He just kind of…pretends to be hurt?

He’s meant to be stalling for time. The cops are coming. All he needs is time.  

So Danny makes some somewhat dramatic sounds and kicks out with his feet, because a fight lasts longer than a passive victim. He lands a hit to the man’s stomach, and another to his chest—he doesn’t drop Danny the way Danny might have expected, but Danny isn’t going to run out of air, so this can last forever until the man lets go. Or does something.

“Stop— coming— back,” the man snarls, and suddenly sounds nothing like the dudes who man the tech counter at the Walmart. “I got you— you should be gone!” 

Danny is gone. But he’s also here. And he’s also been gone for a very long time, and he’s also getting choked out by a guy in a gas station parking lot. It’s been a rough few hours of waiting for this dude. He might as well make it worth it. 

So maybe his body turns a little translucent. Just a little. Just enough to see the streetlight through his skin, probably, and the hazy road behind them. 

Getting thrown to the concrete hurts, but, you know, not as badly as getting tossed into a wall by Skulker on a rampage. Danny’s barely going to be bruised after this. 

The guy runs to his car, and Danny frowns, scrambling back up, and, wait. Wouldn’t having bruises be better? As evidence? They better not heal too quickly, or else that’ll be it of his physical proof. 

“Where are you going?” Danny asks, more perplexed and angry than anything. Isn’t he supposed to try to kill the witness??

But the guy hauls butt into the cab of his truck— and then the lights go on and the tires start spinning, the engine roaring to life. 

If Danny wasn’t actively on camera at the moment, it would be easy to fly after the car. As it is, he’s pretty fast, but he’s not quite quick enough on his feet to chase after a pickup truck careening down the highway in the dark. 

The man’s gone in a few seconds. Honestly, Danny’s kind of annoyed about the whole thing. It would have been nice for it to work. 

Sam climbs down from the roof of the gas station, phone in her hand. “No, I just— he choked out my friend and drove off! Send someone over here already!! You— do you need the license plate again?!” 

Danny just looks at her. Sam covers her phone’s mic with a hand: “They’re saying five minutes,” she mouths. 

Great. 

Danny hunkers down, throat bruising, and Sam sits down beside him. They wait.  

By the time the cops pull into the gas station, the guy’s more than out of sight. Sam’s the one who takes the lead on dictating their story. Danny sort of doesn’t realize how out of it he is until someone tries to throw a shock blanket on him. He almost hits the guy square in the face— and Sam’s the one who has to catch his arm. 

Uh. Oops. 

Jazz and Tucker roll in, hardly pretending to have not been nearby; Jazz wraps her arms around him, and Danny lets her. 

Sue him. It’s late. He’s tired. 

“...And I can’t believe you weren’t able to get down the road in time to catch a man who choked out my best friend,” Sam snaps, which, aw! Danny’s a best friend. The cop she’s attempting to strip down for parts looks less sympathetic than Danny feels. “You’re barely a ten minute drive up the highway! What were you doing, meandering?” 

“No,” the cop grits out, eying Sam like a bug on his shoe. “We were telling the officer down the road what to look out for.” 

Apparently, jamming the gas down hard enough to bust your speedometer gets you pulled over at the speed check. 

The night is over before Danny knows it. Someone gets him to the station, someone takes photos of his bruises and takes his statement. Someone calls Mom and Dad and then Danny’s in the GAV, half asleep and exhausted beyond belief. 

He falls asleep on the couch, Mom’s fingers in his hair. 

*

It’s not like the Amity Park police tell them anything, but Jazz is the one who finds the report on the news. 

She records it on the TiVo for him. 

“Eustace Miller, from Tennessee,” Sam reads aloud, knee to knee on his couch. Tucker adjusts his glasses. “Looks like he was already on the run.” 

“Or as good as,” Tucker agrees quietly. “Looks like they’re pinning a couple of cold cases to him.” 

They watch; there’s pictures of him from his hometown, and from the towns he would visit on his joyride across the country. There were pictures of his family. There were pictures of kids Danny would never meet: kids who were already dead, and who had been for months. Years, even. 

They’d looked so happy in the photos from when they were alive. 

…Danny could relate. 

Jazz turns the report off that night, thumb on the power button. And that’s all it takes for Danny to stop waking up in a trash bag. 

[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

[lightningchu-the-mega-raichu]

Charlie Emily's death scene

TW for blood and child murder

My Charlie is 14

William was drunk and in an awful episode during this.

[itsguysnightitsironic]

"Eat your young before they eat you."

So anyways, I'm team hags now, the world hates a girlboss--

[connectionterminated13]

Too late

[animentality]

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

Campfire tales and urban legends of The Mojave:

I like to imagine that there's some campfire tales and urban legends spread throughout The Mojave told by scavengers, prospectors, traders, mercenaries and NCR recruits to pass the time. Some of these you may have already heard like The Legend of The Sierra Madre Casino or The Horrors of The Divide or whispers about The Burned Man, but you haven't heard of these.

Some of these are based on old urban legends that were passed around on game forums back in the day, others are based on dialogue and some are based on old. creepypastas.

So let's see what campfire tales and urban legends are told in The Mojave hm?

Lone Wolf Radio: Many scavengers and prospectors have discovered the eerie sight of Lone Wolf Radio an abandoned trailer on a hill not too far from Goodsprings Source with various tin cans, electronics, radio devices and various junk spread around the trailer whoever lived in this trailer is long gone and only the graffiti left by them remains: "Everyone is gone, I am all alone, let it all end." Not many scavengers and prospectors go to Lone Wolf Radio anymore due to the urban legend told about it. The urban legend goes that in the late hours of the morning a radio signal will be found called "Lone Wolf Radio", the DJ of this odd radio station is a man who simply calls himself "The Lone Wolf" who will go on incoherent ramblings until 3 in the morning when he will bring a child on air and say "Everyone is gone, I am all alone, let it all end." before killing the child on air and then the signal will be lost. There is no evidence of this "Lone Wolf" person existing nor is their the remains of any dead children around the abandoned radio station nor has there been any "Lone Wolf Radio" station ever been found but nonetheless nobody really goes to The Lone Wolf Radio site ever since this urban legend popped up.

Old Lady Gibson: Now, you might be wondering "What's so scary about Old Lady Gibson? She's just a little old lady who lives in a scrap yard with her dogs." Well, the story goes some drunken NCR recruits stumbled upon the old shack not too far from the scrap yard and encountered a disturbing sight, a skeleton laying on a bloody mattress and a bloody machete stabbed into the nearby wall with a disembodied finger held into the wall by the machete. Now, it's not actually said who the blood, the finger or the skeleton belongs to but the story changes from person to person. Some say that the blood, finger and skeleton belongs to the husband of Old Lady Gibson who she murdered and hid his body in the shack. Another idea is that the blood, finger and skeleton belongs to Old Lady Gibson and the one who lives in the scrap yard isn't the real Old Lady Gibson who murdered the real Old Lady Gibson and assumed her identity. It makes sense why Elijah took temporary refuge in the shack due to the urban legend surrounding the shack and Old Lady Gibson herself.

The City Under The Mojave: Another story that's spread about is that there is an ancient alien city beneath The Mojave Wasteland, some say that the city belonged to a cult who worshipped Ug-Qualtoth, others believe it's an ancient alien city, some say it's both. Nobody has actually found this ancient city but most stories of the legend say that the entrance to the city is somewhere in the north by Horowitz Farmstead due to some scavengers and prospectors claiming to see an alien shuttle overlooking the nearby cliffs and three green humanoid creatures skulking about below, in search of something.

Area 51: This one has some merit unlike the other three urban legends, Area 51 is a pre-war government facility in Nevada which everyone knows about, the problem is, nobody seems to be able to find Area 51 which is why most wastelanders believe it to be an urban legend. Some believe that Area 51 is the real entrance to the ancient city under The Mojave and could possibly be near Horowitz Farmstead but again, nobody has actually been able to find the facility.

The Lake Mead Monster: Now, you may believe that The Lake Mead Monster is simply just the plane that was at the bottom of the lake but the legend of The Lake Mead Monster existed long before the plane even surfaced. Some believe that The Lake Mead Monster is some type of mutated aquatic life similarly to the lakelurks but nobody has actually seen any proof or evidence of this supposed Lake Mead Monster.

The Numbers Station: One of the more older urban legends of The Mojave. The story goes that an odd broadcast had been found some time before The Battle of Hoover Dam. The DJ is a depressed, monotoned voiced man who reads out some numbers before the rest of the broadcast is a series of beeps which have been decoded to be morse code. It's said in the urban legend that the first set of numbers and beeps predicted the return of Mr. House, another set of numbers and beeps predicted The NCR succeeding in holding The Hoover Dam and another predicted the events of Bitter Springs and eeriely enough, all three of these predictions have happened. The story varies here stating that other predictions would be the destruction of The Mojave Chapter of The Brotherhood, the destruction of Searchlight, the massive jailbreak of The NCRFC, the death of Chief Hanlon, the death of Caesar, the death of President Kimball, the death of Mr. House, The NCR continuing to hold The Dam, The Legion taking The Dam, Mr. House taking The Dam, a mysterious force over securitrons and various other unseen before technologies led by one singular person taking The Dam, a strange serious of bizarre scientific happenings destroying The Mojave, ghosts immune to gunfire and a blood red mist enveloping The Mojave and the mysterious nuking of The Long 15 and the Legion settlement of Dry Wells, unlike the first three predictions however, none of these have happened yet.

[elsa-rain-world-stuff]

Artihunter but messed up...

I just saw a comic where Hunter is running after a slugpup ready to eat them and then Arti shoots Hunter and this kinda showed up in my head

And this is the same timeline where wrong metropolis ending is happening 🥰😍🥰😘🥰 making my fav girlie suffer even more 💖💕😘💖💖🥰💖😘💕

[hussyknee]

I want you to bear witness to what your people are complicit in.

What your governments, the leaders you hold your nose and vote for do.

What people who "refuse to take a stance" because they "don't know enough" are really saying.

What you're asking when you demand that Palestinians condemn Hamas.

When you try to defend Zionism and the "two state solution".

What is meant by "Israel defending itself".

I want you to think about what you're saying when you say you're too exhausted to keep up with the current political issues.

You can't open any other social media without seeing live footage of buildings ablaze and maimed children screaming and the bright, smiling pictures of the dead. I want you to think about why Tumblr, that famously skews white American, is only platform where even the tag only has a few hundred notes on most posts.

If any of you Westerners want to invoke Nazism as the epitome of fascist, genocidal evil, against whom any amount of collective punishment is justified, you might want to take a good look in the mirror first. Then maybe you'll understand what we mean when we say that all evil is human.

[mousebone-s]

Redesigns of my patience soul design (her name is Wynn). Headcanons / info under the cut:

- 9 yrs old

- LV 3 (was occasionally manipulated into harming monsters by Flowey)

- she/her

- likes: toys, playing pretend, animals, puzzles, mysteries

- dislikes: bullies, being alone, spiders

- has juvenile arthritis, Chron’s disease, and generalized anxiety disorder

- bullied heavily for her timidness and perceived weakness before falling

- extremely shy, had very few friends aside from some teachers and Hero (bravery soul)

- parents were strict and overprotective, partly because of her chronic illnesses. Father was always working and rarely interacted w/ Wynn. Mother was sometimes smothering and emotionally manipulative, sometimes cold and distant.

- often went to Mt Ebott to play. One day, bullies saw her heading to the mountain and followed her. They pretended they were going to throw her in, and one of the bullies dangled her over the edge. The ground beneath chipped, and the bully stumbled to keep their footing, accidentally dropping Wynn into the hole.

- after falling, felt apprehensive about returning home because of how kind Toriel was, but ultimately didn’t want to hurt her best friend and parents.

- Wynn discovered her soul power (she would not take damage as long as she stayed still) and used it to avoid harm long enough to spare monsters. When she got to Asgore, though, she was so afraid upon realizing he would not accept mercy that she tried to run, allowing Asgore to deal one fatal blow.

[firedragon1321]

Corrupted DigiDestined AU

Aka- Another Digimon AU That's Me Just Spinning Gears and Playing With an Old Post

(This is not reboot continuity- I just needed a pretty picture.)

I've seen this concept done in three ways-

Outright turn the kids stereotypically evil. This works in the short term, but it's not good for character anaylsis/DigiDestined rotation. The "quick and dirty" option, basically.

Invert the Crests. So the Crest of Courage becomes the Crest of Fear. I found only one cool Tim Burton-esque art set that did this well. I can't find it now. But generally, I've never been satisfied with these. Especially because they have to work around the "Crest of Darkness" every goddamn time...

Work with the kids' weaknesses. So the Crest of Courage becomes the Crest of Recklessness. This is probably my favorite option.

I want to go more in-depth on the last one, and that's why we've gathered here today. Only instead of just working with the canon weaknesses...what if I tweaked the kids's pasts so their "worst event" never happened? What kind of people would they become?

Also alternate Digimon partners because wheeeee I like them.

(TW for mentions of abuse, manipulation, and hinted major character/child death.)

Tai- The Crest of Arrogance

Impmon-> Punkmon-> Loudmon-> HeavyMetaldramon

This was an easy one because he's my blorbo. The event I chose to erase was also an easy pick. What if Tai never brought Kari out to play soccer that day? I rotated this for a bit and concluded that the athletics aspect of his character would take over, making him a sort of asshole jock type.

Tai still possesses a natural charisma, leadership ability, and recklessness. But his rule is delivered with an iron fist. It doesn't matter if he's on the soccer pitch or in the Digital World. His rule is simply law. His leadership potential and cruelty are magnified to the point that even adults don't want to get on his bad side.

Tai's self-centered and not afraid to bash your face in if you disagree with him. Your name doesn't have to be "Matt" either. He thinks of himself as a great hero, and anyone who disagrees with him must be another antagonist there to ruin his day. But in reality, he's barely keeping the group together with glue made of terror.

Impmon may be a cliche choice, but I chose him for his Punkmon evolution line. They're still reptilian, while also being loud, belligerent, and always looking for a fight. I also just like HeavyMetaldramon in general. He's got a dumb name I can't help but love, plus he looks like another favorite who will come into play later.

Matt- The Crest of Manipulation

Gazimon-> Sangloupmon-> Astamon-> GranDracmon

Matt's "special event" was obvious, too. His parents never got divorced in this AU (an event that will come into play with TK too, naturally). Since this event controls a lot more of Matt's character than Tai's event, I had to think a minute for him. I decided to fuck with his sense of empathy and dub characterization. Because Matt can be as emotionally mature and sensitive as Sora, even if he can't always make that obvious.

So what if he used that trait for evil?

On the surface, Matt's the cool rebel of the group. His suave surface nature makes him easy to approach. One might even call him a friend, even if they know nothing about him. However, he knows how to play with feelings. Like any good instrument, you keep plucking strings until you get the result you and. And that's exactly how Matt views people. Before you can blink, he's got what he wanted and dumped you on the side of the road.

Astamon and GranDracmon are both smooth-talking demon Digimon. Astamon attracts a lot of followers, while GranDracmon can talk any angel Digimon into "falling down". I figured they'd be a perfect fit (though I was admittedly thinking of the Astamon from Young Hunters). Gazimon and Sangloupmon kept the canine theme without being Gabumon recolors.

(Fun fact- I've used this line before for an OC, but that character was (in the end) benign.)

Sora- The Crest of Ambition

Dracumon-> BlackGatomon-> Bastemon-> Lilithmon

It would have been easy to make Sora the emotional manipulator. Too easy. And it wouldn't have anything to do with her issue- namely, her controlling mother. But what if her mother was a little more lax? No- MORE lax than that. What if she supported her daughter no matter what- even if those ambitions skewed too extreme?

Woe be to anyone who gets in this Sora's way. It doesn't matter what she has her eye on. She'll get it, and she'll gladly step on you if you get in the way. She's never heard "no" before, and has no time or desire to hear it from you.

Her Crest of Love has become a type of Lust, but not in the sexual sense. It's desire. Passion. It's never-ending want. The cup is never full for Sora. There's still more drink to be had. There will never be enough.

I worked my way backwards from Lilithmon, choosing Digimon with mind control abilities and ambitious personalities. This means we get a recolor of Gatomon- despite my efforts to avoid recolors of the canon crew- but oh well.

Joe- The Crest of Sloth

Phascomon-> Porcupamon-> Mephismon-> Belphemon

Joe's "problem" in Adventure is also heavy expectations, much like Sora. Taking them away could result in an overly ambitious character. But for Joe, I went the opposite direction. What if he was a person with no ambitions at all?

Paralyzed by his own fears and no goal in life, Joe is more follower than leader. He carries out orders without a thought to his own life or safety, because he believes his life to be meaningless. With certain people in this corrupted crew, however, that means he's carrying out plenty of evil deeds. He's not necessarily evil himself, however- just without direction.

I worked my way back from a Demon Lord again- this time Belphemon. He's naturally the Demon Lord of Sloth (for those who don't live in the Digital World inside their minds). I chose Mephismon just to connect the Champion to the Mega, and also because he's a demonic Digimon.

And that's about it for Joe. I wish I could do more, but it's hard to add personality to a character with no goals.

Mimi- The Crest of Selfishness

Aruraumon-> Zassomon-> Blossomon-> Rafflesimon

Otamamon->ShogunGekomon (warp)

Mimi doesn't have family issues like the rest of the cast. The problem is she's spoiled. So instead of erasing her backstory, I decided to erase her character development. Certain events like Sora convincing her to leave the Gekomon don't happen in this timeline. They can't, after all, with how different everyone else is.

This results in a Mimi who only acts in her own self interest. Maybe not at first. Maybe she thinks the others are pure evil. But that changes. Thanks to the attention lavished upon her by the Otamamon and Gekomon, she's essentially Princess Mimi full time. Woe be to the poor idiot who gets under her high heels!

I decided to go with recolors for this line just because it made more sense to corrupt Palmon than to invent a new partner. Perhaps Mimi was originally a "pure" force introduced to keep the others in line. But her own flaws were waiting to consume her...

Also- similar to how Leomon was able to digivolve thanks to Tai's Digivice, one of the Otamamon gained the same power from Mimi's. That's why she has two Digimon. And you can bet others like Chuumon/Sukamon, the Numemon, and more follow the army of Princess Mimi.

Izzy- The Crest of Intellect

Hagurumon-> Mekanorimon-> Vademon-> EBEmon

I know what you're thinking- I'm a lazy-ass and replaced "Knowledge" with a synonym. And you're right! But with the event I removed being Izzy's knowledge of his adoption, his intelligence didn't go away. Instead of retreating, he expanded outwards. Think Ken when he was roleplaying the Digimon Emperor, but with no Wormmon to hold him back.

Izzy is smarter than you and he knows it. Similar to Matt, he's outplayed you before you can even say hello. He doesn't have Matt's charm, but he doesn't need it. You're too stupid to counteract him, anyway. He can hack your systems before you've realized a single thing amiss. Maybe he'll even let you believe things are fine for a day or two...

Like Sora and Mimi, he hasn't encountered any problems. A snag in Izzy's plans is always temporary. But hit him in his unstable emotional core, and you may have a chance of saving your laptop. But the resulting revenge is bound to be devastating....

I was going to do a full machine Digimon line, but then veered into Vademon. The big brain design caught my attention. Also, since regular Izzy had troubles with a Vademon, having his dark half master this Digimon has interesting implications for my brain.

TK- The Crest of Terror

DemiDevimon-> Devidramon->DexDoruGreymon-> Megidramon

Remember how I cut the divorce from canon? This means TK grew up with Matt, who- in this timeline- is an emotional abuser. And of course, his favorite target is his doting little brother, who will do anything he says.

Like Joe, TK's not evil. He just lives in a constant state of fear. He'll apologize as his Digimon tears you into bite-sized pieces- all while proclaiming his love for his brother. Whether Matt tells him to act as a distraction or kill, it doesn't matter. He'll do it, knowing he'll get no reward.

But TK wants a reward. Matt's his whole world. It's always been that way. Unfortunately he sees no other existence. Without Matt, he simply doesn't exist.

Megidramon is one of my favorite Digimon, so I had to squeeze him in somehow. I like to think TK's partner is a manifestation of his true feelings. Though he loves his brother, he's also disgusted by him. If given the slightest bit of leash, he'd turn the monster loose on Matt- and regret it for the rest of his life.

(And yes- a DemiDevimon did mess with TK in canon...convincing him his brother didn't love him...it's only a matter of time...)

Kari- The Crest of Despair

Salamon-> Meicoomon->Meicrackmon Vicious Mode-> Mastemon

Despair is kind of similar to Darkness, and I've seen it used on a few of these sorts of things. But it's not like "the opposite of Light is Darkness" because it's an actual character trait. And it's a direction Kari could go without her brother's love to support her.

Kari's in a similar boat as TK. She's lived her whole life with a bastard of a brother. But she also has a host of illnesses. Just once, she'd love her brother to visit her in the hospital. But he never came. Soccer was a useful excuse, or else his parents were too scared to command him.

Now, they're trapped in the Digital World together, and it's no secret that Kari's the chain around Tai's ankle. He certainly hasn't kept that information from her, finally losing his patience when she falls ill in Machinedramon's territory. She always held on to hope that he was a good big brother deep down. Now proven wrong, she's in a vegetative state of despair.

Like with Mimi, I just corrupted Gatomon instead of making a new character. But I started from her Rookie stage of Salamon. We're gonna pretend tri. never happened for this. As for Mastemon? Gatomon DID reach her Angewomon stage, and that data still exists within her. But it mixed with the dark despair created by her partner. Instead of falling entirely, she became a deadly being that exists between light and darkness.

Odds and Ends

This ramble does imply that evil Digimon like Myotismon were still killed. This was not out of charity. They simply got in the way and were disposed of.

The Digital World still chose the kids during the Greymon/Parrotmon fight, when they were young and innocent, having no idea what would happen in the future. Mimi was the OG damage control, with a pure and sincere nature that might be able to purify the others.

When Mimi failed, Kari's shining light had to take over. It worked for a little while- mostly for TK and Joe, who are not malicious.

When Tai polished off Kari's light, TK finally snapped. His Megidramon responded to his anger, attempting to destroy Tai. This Digimon ran into a blockade in the form of HeavyMetaldramon. Not sure which of the two would win this fight, but it would be cool at least. The loser probably wouldn't make it out alive, though...

As previously mentioned, tri didn't happen. 02 still could, with Davis/Cody/Yolei/non-evil Ken being the third attempt to keep these damn kids in line. Maybe they receive help from TK, Joe, and what's left of Kari. But that's an AU within an AU and I'm already tired.

Mimi never returned to the Real World when the castle has all she wants. She mostly operates from there, keeping in touch with the others via Digimon like Soundbirdmon.

That's about it. You can play around with this if you want. Just shoot me a credit/link so I can see what you did. I made this while half-awake at 10 PM so it's just a lot of bullshit, anyway.

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

The Many Names of Peace (pt.1/?): Mercy

"If you hate genocide so much, where were your people at the Dral'han?" Terith asks with a scoff.

The Jetii stops muttering and goes still. Slowly, she turns, with a movement too fluid for a human. She's shorter than them, very slim and apparently frail, and her blond —almost white— hair is tied in a braided bun. Her eyes, which are a glowing emerald green, are burning.

"Where were we? You're asking me why we did nothing when your people were attacked?" The kage Jedi asks the Mandalorian with a soft tone of voice and a polite nod, looking almost like a respected jaieh accepting a padawan's question.

It is not.

Underneath their buy'ce, Terith's lips curl at her words, at her threat.

Zahara begins to move from one side of the room to another. It's too controlled to be called pacing, but the tension is visible in her movements.

"Not all Jedi are human. In fact, most aren't. There are species with very long lifespans and, considering Force-sensitives tend to live a few decades longer than others of their species, two hundred is far from an uncommon age among Jedi" The Jetii doesn't seem to be answering their furious question at first. "We were not there, Mandalorian, because every sitting member of the High Council during the genocide of your people remembered how Mandalore reacted when they came for us, first."

Drovan, her crechemate, her enishee, her brother of the soul, was a member of the EduCorps. He hadn't wanted to be a Knight, done the math, and decided to free up a space for somebody else. In particular, he was fascinated by the History of the Order. Zahara remembers quiet nights, when she was at the Temple resting after a taxing mission, when she Drovan used to sit down on comfortable cushions and her closest sibling rambled about what he was learning.

She's heard him ranting about the Ruusan Reformation, and the cruel limitations it places on her people even now. She's read it herself, once she began her Shadow training, learning every single restriction in search for loopholes that could be exploited to make the Order's job and life easier.

Her people's memories are long. Kages remember. The Jedi remember. Zahara remembers.

"They vividly remembered when the Republic we served brought down our Temples, when they took us from our homes, when they tried to destroy a whole branch of our Order" Zahara lists, voice cold and eyes blazing, "when they took our armor, our back-up and defenses, when they stole everything but our Lightsabers… and when your people laughed and called it easy hunting."

The Mandalorian pride in Terith's heart wants to protest, to deny the Jetii's words. But she speaks like a scholar in a subject she's clearly well versed in, like a grieving verd mourning the violence against her people they'd known nothing about.

History isn't always kind, Mandalorian history in particular rarely is, but it's always worth learning from. It's something Kyr'tsad and the extremists among the Nu'Mando'ade don't understand, and Terith refuses to make their same mistakes.

So, they swallow the growing lump in their throat, ignore the stone sinking in their stomach and try to listen.

Zahara's voice begins to break away from the calm, even tones of a teacher, and slowly fall into the ragged tones of soul-crushing grief. Her breath becomes shallow and rapid, and air gets stuck in her throat. Still, she continues.

"The Republic had been destroying us for two hundred years by the time of the orbital bombardment on Mandalore, and in that time, the number of Lightsabers and Padawan braids and beads seen on Mandalorian armor as trophies skyrocketed" The Jetii hisses, spitting the word trophies with the same venom he would use to say hut'tuunla or demagolka. "We were trapped, betrayed and dying… and your people murdered our young and desecrated our corpses, and had the nerve to carry the stolen lives of our kin as proof."

The air grows colder, a sharpness in it that's as familiar as her own reflection. The galaxy around her sings with promises of vengeance, of justice. Justice for her enishee, justice for Feemor and his charges, justice for Jaieh Ta'ra's murdered Padawan, for the all Jedi dead during the Mandalorian sack of the Anohrah, for the bastardization of Jaieh Tarre Vizla's story and the systematic erasure of his Jedi identity, for all the Jedi younglings dead at Mandalorian hands.

Not against the Mandalorian that did any of those things, but against a Mandalorian, anyhow.

"Your people sacked the Temple, stole the life and soul of a respected Jedi Master, got two of his Padawans murdered, erased every single hint of his Jedi upbringing, and perverted everything he stood for in life, all because he happened to be Mandalorian as well."

The song reaches a crescendo, the highest notes she's ever heard in a Force song, making her ears ring. The melody sounds off-key, and the final notes become loud and insufferable high-pitched screams. Zahara grits her teeth, and breathes in deeply. The xari in the air slowly dissapears.

She will not take revenge.

She's a Jedi, and revenge is not the Jedi way.

She will not Fall. She will not let her anger act upon her and betray everything she, Drovan, Feemor, Ta'ra and her Padawan, Tarre Vizla and his Padawans have ever stood for.

Zahara will not take revenge because it's not what Drovan would have wanted. It's not what any Jedi would want.

She will not take revenge because it's not as useful and satisfying as the thores of passion lead you to believe.

This Mandalorian is innocent. They haven't done anything wrong. They're angry about their people's genocide and rightfully so. They're ignorant, and ignorance can be fixed.

Words, the sharing of knowledge, bringing understanding when there was previously none. Those are her greatest weapons, and she can wield them freely and with as much efficiency as a Lightsaber.

Terith is frozen in place, mind racing with the desire to be anywhere else, away from this hurting, angry sorceress that sees them as an enemy. The manda in their chest screams, in offense or the pain of dishonor Terith isn't sure.

They wish their buy'ce was recording. That way they could investigate the Jetii's claims.

Everyone and their mother has heard the rumors about the Jetiise. Sorcerers from the Core that don't reproduce like other beings, but take Children from their parents and train them to be as emotionless as droids, beings that beat all the love and concern for others out of themselves because they believe attachment is a weakness.

Terith believed them, once.

Now Terith doesn't know what to believe. The Jetii speaks with too much knowledge and pain to be lying, nobody can fake that well, and the air around them both is mournfully singing as the truth of her words sink into the depths of their runi.

Zahara breathes out slowly. Still hurt, but… determined not to Fall, not to take out her grief and anger on someone who's done nothing wrong.

"So" the kage Jedi flashes a polite but completely unfriendly smile, "why did we do nothing when they came for your world?"

Within their battered heart, stung with the pain of dishonor, with the stain on the manda itself, Terith knows the answer before the Jetii says a word.

"We did nothing because Jedi are merciful, Mandalorian."

(Notes under the cut)

Dai Bendu

Jaieh — Jedi Master (rank and role).

Padawan — apprentice, learner, student. Lit "the one who learns". Please picture a Jedi hearing a politician saying "Padawan learner", and containing the urge to eye twich.

Enishee — crechemate.

Anohrah — Jedi Temple, home. Before the Ruusan Reformation used to refer to the Temple the speaker was from.

Xari — darkness, the Dark Side of the Force.

Mando'a

Jetii(se) — Jedi (add 'se' at the end to make the plural).

Buy'ce — helmet.

Verd — warrior.

Kyr'tsad — Death Watch, lit "death society".

Nu'Mando'ade — New Mandalorians.

Hut'tuunla — coward. Very harsh insult.

Demagolka — someone who commits atrocties, a real-life monster, a war criminal - from the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, and a figure of hate and dread in the Mando psyche

Manda — collective soul of the Mandalorians.

Runi — spirit, soul of the individual.

Zahara is a kage Jedi Knight, officially a Sentinel and a Finder, which is used to explain why she can be in places she isn't supposed to and bust slave rings without prior Senate authorization. Unofficially, however, she's a Shadow. It's common practice for the Jedi to register Shadows as Finders in order to give them more freedom of action.

Terith is a Mandalorian bounty hunter, but they're very picky about their jobs and have interest in medicine, particularly "mind-healing". They were born in a New Mandalorian family but found greater calling to Jaster and the True Mandalorians and switched allegiance once they were of age. They are mildly Force-sensitive, not enough to become a Jedi and only gives them good instincts.

The Dral'han is the orbital bombardment of Mandalore done by the Galactic Republic in roughly 800BBY. The Republic used Jedi ships, but there were no Jedi involved. Mandalorians believed the Jedi were guilty at first, but the truth was uncovered only a decade later.

Dai Bendu is not my creation. It's a colang, although the story of the language is something I made up. Dai Bendu is the language spoken by the Order of Dai Bendu and, later on, the Jed'aii Order. It fell out of use after the Jedi joined the Republic in 25,000BBY, but came back in full swing during the Jedi-Sith Wars when it was very useful to speak a language the enemy couldn't understand.

I don't know if it's canon, but in this story Force-sensitives live longer than the average of their species. Those who aren't trained only live a little longer (a decade in humans), but for those who, like the Jedi, have training that lifespan increases (three to four decades in humans).

"Free up a space". Taken from the Jedi Apprentice series, where Jedi age out at thirteen and there are limited Masters, and where those who aren't chosen are sent to the Corps. Drovan knew he didn't want to be a Knight, so he requested to be sent to the Corps as soon as possible to give the chance of becoming a Knight to someone who actually wanted to be one. Unlike Jedi Apprentice, however, this is an imposition from the Ruusan Reformation, and the Jedi try to bend this rule as much as possible.

Kages' memories begin forming almost at birth. Zahara remembers with vivid detail most of her life. She's doing an alliteration: she remembers because she's a kage and because she is a Jedi.

This is the "Ruusan Reformation but make it worse" AU:

"Brought down our Temples". The Ruusan Reformation demanded the centralization of the Jedi Order. Therefore, all Jedi were forced to move to Couruscant, and their other Temples were either destroyed or repurposed.

"Took us from our homes." Although Terith doesn't know it, Zahara is being redundant. The word for Jedi Temple in Dai Bendu also means home. She's putting enphasis on how painful it was for the Jedi to lose their homes.

"Tried to destroy a whole branch of our Order." The Shadows were supposed to be dissolved after the Ruusan Reformation was signed. However, the Jedi managed to keep training Shadows in secret.

The Jedi used to have weapons, armor and many defenses besides their Lightsabers, but the Ruusan Reformation ordered their demilitarization and "demilitarization". Among the things they lost were the right to carry their birth cultures' sacred armor and weapons. A Mandalorian Jedi wouldn't be allowed to have armor, for example.

Mandalorians tend to take trophies from their enemies after a battle. This is done both for, well, bragging rights and to respect the memory of a worthy opponent (similar to their remembrances for their fallen comrades). However, the bragging rights part can overshadow the respect for a worthy opponent part, and many Mandalorians hunt down defenseless "enemies" to steal important objects from them. The Jedi in particular were a favored target for these… individuals, seeing as they had no armor, only carried one weapon and were usually alone or in pairs because that's how the Senate decided to send them in missions. The victims were usually Padawans, hence the name Padawan Hunts.

Tarre Vizla's story shows the greatest difference between how Jedi and Mandalorians (at least in that era) treat different cultures and double cultured children. The Jedi don't hide that Tarre Vizla was Mandalorian, everyone knows that he left the Order to rule Mandalore, and know what happened to his armor and what he wanted to happen to his body and Lightsaber. However, Mandalorians either don't know or refuse to recognize Tarre Vizla's Jedi status.

"Sacked the Temple". Tarre Vizla left his armor to his Clan and his Lightsaber to the Jedi. When he died, he wanted to be burned in the Temple (both cultures burn their death, so little to no issue here) and his ashes to be spread on Mandalore. House Vizla, however, did the equivalent of spitting on Tarre's funeral pyre and sacked the Temple to steal the Darksaber.

"Stole the life and soul of a respected Jedi Master". Tarre Vizla was a Jedi, and the Darksaber is his life. House Vizla, however, had no respect for their relative's other culture and did the worst thing they could do to him: killing and hurting his Jedi family, and stealing a sacred item they knew was sacred.

I headcanon that Tarre Vizla had three Padawans. He finished the incomplete training of the first because their Master died, did the whole training of the second and got promoted to Master as a result, and only started the training of the third before he went to his home planet to unite Mandalorians against the Sith Empire. Two of them were killed during House Vizla's sack of the Temple.

"Erased every hint of his Jedi upbringing." House Vizla replaced the Jedi Order symbol on Tarre's armor with the symbol of House Vizla, refused to acknowledge Tarre's desire to be remembered as a Jedi and forbade anyone from speaking about his Jedi status, and never say that the Darksaber is actually a regular Lightsaber they stole.

"Perverted everything he stood for." Lightsabers are a Jedi's life, hold their souls in the same way beskar'gam holds a Mandalorian's. Tarre. Ever since it was stolen, the Darksaber has been used as a symbol of authoritarian and tyrannical leadership, warmonging, imperialism and military violence. It's so fucked up that the crystal is beginning to break (the white cracks, originally the Darksaber was pure black) and, had those who held it been trained Force-sensitives, the crystal would have bled.

Terith doesn't know they're Force-sensitive, but they know their instincts are rarely wrong, and they can feel the honesty and grief coming from Zahara in waves. They don't doubt her precisely because they know she's not lying, she's seeing things as she sees them and, even if she's wrong, it's something Terith believes to be worth looking into.

[fxtalitygod]

Survival. IX

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint)

Word Count: 3.4k

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

You remembered the most content morning you had ever had. It was a relatively beautiful and tranquil day in the garden. The sky was clear, and the sun was beaming brightly, yet the weather was pleasant. It was the most satisfying day you had ever had within the temple.

It was also the day your twins spoke their first word.

You had been spending quality time with your twins, your attendant joining the activities as you both basked in their childish nature. She had grown as close as family and acted like an aunt to your kids, and if you were being honest, she felt like a sister to you in some sense. You truly appreciated her company and assistance throughout the time you had known her— especially when sharing this memorable moment.

It felt like it was out of a dream when the word effortlessly slipped from your daughter’s mouth. Moments ago, she was a child who only knew how to babble, laugh, and cry, but now she was a little girl capable of speaking. And if your daughter hadn’t surprised you enough, your son letting the same word slip next had left you paralyzed with shock.

“Mama.”

Yes, it was a standard word for a child to speak first other than Dada or Papa— a cliché, as most would say, but that was the last thing on your mind. To hear your child acknowledge you for the first time and know they recognize you as their mother was a pleasure that could not compare to the joys of sex, alcohol, or money– it is a pleasantry of its own. You swore you would do anything to hear them call you their "Mama" for as long as possible.

And if anyone took that away from you, they would be damned to hell.

The screams of a woman echoed through the temple. The shrieks were ear-splitting and could cause anybody's ears to bleed upon walking into the hearing radius. You could only listen as the screams continued, the sound muffling out as your ears began to ring again.

Why was she screaming? The woman in question should have been thrilled that your children were deceased– they would have been a threat to her. She was probably trying to win Sukuna's favor in some fucked up way. The bitch had no right to grieve in your presence nor in solitude. You had every want to strangle her soundless; however, something stopped you from that impulse.

Your throat began to burn.

At that moment, you realized the screams of grief and agony were those of your own. Nobody was present in that room, just you and Sukuna, as your cries echoed in the room and nearby halls. You were blinded by your own tears as you stared at the now-blurry image of your twin's hanging corpses, choking on your own sobs as you collapsed to the ground, holding your midriff with the painful thought that the life you had cultivated within you for nine months and raised for six years was now reduced to carcasses hanging from a wall.

Your blessings had been snatched from you, from right under your nose.

You should have known things would have not been so simple. You should have never let your guard down for even a second. This was your punishment for being so blissfully ignorant when you should have analyzed all the possible faults in your plan and anticipated any threats that remained to perform a clean escape.

You stood on weak legs, shuffling to the wall that was covered in blood. In your mind, you always thought that the blankness of those walls would drive you mad– you never anticipated that the splash of color would be the thing that forced you to insanity. The crimson dripping down the wall proved you wrong.

Your hands shook as your fingers hovered over the pins that were holding your children in place, flinching back as you swallowed the bile rising up your throat before reaching for one of the pins again. You made an attempt to hold back your sobs but with little success. Huffs, spittles, and gurgles continued to resonate from you as you held back your cries– you looked pathetic.

Your hands felt weak as you pulled the pin, the audible squelching sound of the flesh rubbing against the item sickening you to the core, yet you persisted. You pulled the lower pins that you could reach from your son and daughter, tears gushing out of your eyes as you did so. No torture was as great as this, especially when you went to reach the higher ones. You stood on your toes, stretching for the pins that were sunk into your twin's hands, but it was futile. Under normal circumstances, you could have reached that high; you would have improvised a way to do it, but your mind was numb, and your body felt weak.

"Help me," you choked as you continued to reach.

The only response you got was silence.

"Please," you weakly whispered, "Please, help me."

Silence lingered again, but before you could plea a second time– your husband spoke.

"Why?"

You paused in your movement, your breath hitching as the simple word echoed in your head.

"Why?" you repeated, bewilderment found in your whisper, "Why?"

Your head slowly turned to look over your shoulder, your eyes gleaming with fury as you looked at Sukuna.

"I'll tell you why," you seethed, "For eight years, I have lived in this temple with you and your sickened whores and bastards– lived in your residence with little to no complaint. I have endured everything bestowed upon me and have managed to keep my spine straight with my head held high– and when in your presence, I have given you nothing but the lowest bows of respect despite the falsities of that action; I sacrificed my pride!" you paused to breathe before continuing, "I bore you children and dealt the blunt trauma of my impossible pregnancy and labor without complaint or ask of favor because you and I both know I would have gladly died in the process. In my life here, I have asked you for ONE SINGULAR FAVOR that would benefit both of us!"

Another pause as you caught your breath.

"The very least you could do," your voice shook with exasperation, "is grant me this one selfish wish."

"Do you understand the line you are crossing, Little Flower," Sukuna threatened as he took a few steps forward.

"Well aware," you answered without hesitation, "but at least if you killed me now, I would reunite with my children and be rid of you," you grinned mockingly at your partner.

You watched as the menacing man raised a hand, keeping eye contact with you as he did so. Normally you would have feared that this was the end of the line, but that was before your worst nightmare had already came true. Some part of you wished that he would hit you, hoping that once he did, he would snap you out of what you hoped what was an illusion of some sort, a night terror, a cursed technique, possibly a hallucination— all three were very much possibilities, but deep down you knew you were in denial, however, you did not want to accept it.

The slap never came.

Instead, your companion reached his arm above you, removing the pins that held your twins hostage against the wall. Sukuna took his time, clearly in no rush, leaving you antsy as you began to wriggle in impatience. You just wanted to hold them and look upon their innocent face. Maybe they were not dead, maybe there was still a breath of life in them, and you could somehow convince your husband to use his curse reversal technique on them due to the terms of your contract.

Maybe, just maybe…

Once the last pins restraining your children were removed, you were quick to cradle your twins, holding them close to your chest as more sobs escaped from your quivering lips. Your fingers lightly touched their skin as you caressed their faces with motherly gentleness. After moments, your cries subsided into a quiet lament as you continued to hold your little boy and girl.

You would have done anything to prevent this fate.

"Mama..." a voice spoke, but excessively strained and quiet.

You jumped up to see your little boy's eyes open no more than a slit. Without hesitation, you rushed to grab his face, babbling words of encouragement for him to stay awake. You were eager as you prepared to attempt to perform reverse cursed technique, but before you could, another strained voice sounded.

"Ma-Mama."

You panicked once more, moving to face your daughter as her condition was nearly the same. You were torn on what to do and had almost turned to Sukuna for his assistance, but it was useless. As quickly as those words were spoken were as fast as they faded back into eternal sleep.

What was this? You had to ask again, but what had you done to deserve this? To be worthy of this torture? Was there not a more deserving candidate for this cruelty you were enduring? Had you just been born to be cursed like this?

Questions raveled your mind, and thoughts ate at you alive– you were beginning to spiral. Your voice, along with many of the other voices from your past, flooded your head, screaming at you all at once as the memories began to invade your consciousness. Your head was starting to hurt from lingering in your mind, far away from reality. If anyone were to look upon your form, you would seem like the hollow husk of a woman based on how you sat there unmoving and totally silent as you stared blankly at the bloody wall– it seemed like you were looking through it like a piece of glass, that is how lost you were, until...

Everything went silent.

The voices in your head had settled, and all you could hear was Sukuna's breathing and your own echoing throughout the room. It was eerily quiet as the two of you remained.

"Their first words were their last."

You spoke without thought; the words had just slipped as you turned back to the father of your children, being met with his expressionless stare. You did not expect a response, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was no happier about this situation than you were; however, Sukuna was not grieving like you were. Your reasons for your dour moods were different, but that did not matter– you both were upset about what occurred.

As you held your husband's stare, it was almost as if you had some sort of understanding with one another, communicating without speaking before turning your attention back to your twins. With caution, you gently lifted your children into your arms, slowly standing as you managed to balance their limp bodies in your hold as you walked toward the door.

Your feet moved without command as you walked through the corridor, Sukuna walking at your side as you ventured in silence. The experience was almost that of your arrival at the temple– all eyes were on you; however, there were no whispers of gossip or vial comments and disgusting displays of arousal as you departed. The tension radiating from your aura was too great for such ill manners to be publicly displayed.

You had no clue where you were going and were hardly thinking about it. Your mind was void of consciousness as you reached the grand doors of the temple, stepping out into the cool night air. A part of you wishes you could have enjoyed it, to relish your first time outside the temple walls since your marriage, but the feeling was bitter and dull, especially as you looked upon the lights illuminating from your village.

Trekking through the terrain, you watched the lights grow brighter and more prominent, similar to the unknown feeling festering in your chest. You could hear their voices, their chanting of uprising as you approached the crowd, stopping just at the border of your village. One of the village elders was the first to notice you and Sukuna's approaching figures before ceasing the noise, focusing on your arrival.

"Y/n L/n, you have finally come home. Your family will be happy to know that you have finally returned," pausing to look at Sukuna before bringing his attention back to you, "It was wise of this monster to return you as requested. Come now child, we shall reunite you with your family."

You could hear him speak and understand his meaning and indirect stab at Sukuna's pride, but the words flowed from one ear to the other as your body remained rooted at the barrier.

"Come now, child, you are free!" the elder insisted as he motioned to you, confused and seemingly irritated at your lack of response.

"No."

The word slipped out seamlessly as you blankly stared at the man, watching his expression turn into shock.

"What do you mean, 'No'?"

"It means what I said," you simply responded before continuing, "Why would I come back to a home that sent me away like a lamb to the slaughter. You presented me like a slab of meat to the man you call a monster as if he were some valued patron, but suddenly, I have become worthy of retrieval after how many years? Why is that?"

"You ungrateful woman! We have pursued you for some time due to your parents' request. They paid handsomely to bring you back home, paid enough to fund our cause."

"And what cause was that?!" you retaliated.

"To kill that vile creature who stole you from us, my dear daughter!"

"...Mother," you whispered to yourself as your mom came into view, your father following her as they made their presence known.

"But it seems his influence has already tainted your mind," your mother spoke with a solemn look in her eyes, "But we can fix that if you just come home." the woman persisted as she held her arms out for a welcoming embrace.

Her comfort was tempting, but there was a lingering feeling of hesitance the longer you looked at the picture. This was something you wished for a long time, to be welcomed home with open arms, but the dream seemed stale as you stood there unmoving.

"Then why were harmless children slaughtered in his place?" you questioned.

"Harmless?" your parents uttered, baffled by your statement, "Those children were born to become monsters along with their father! They were far from harmless! That is why we had to cut them out of the picture!" your father yelled.

"...You did it?" you softly asked.

You could see your father's mouth open before closing, moving his gaze from your eyes to the motionless bodies in your arms. The disgusted faces your parents held were replaced with one of bewilderment and fear. They could finally understand your reluctance.

"Y/n..."

"They were harmless..." you started in a mutter, "They were not monsters! They were innocent! And you accused them of crimes they have never committed!"

"With their upbringing, it would have been inevitable! They were their father's children, after all!" the village elder interrupted, disdain laced in his voice.

"They were not guilty of Sukuna's crimes! They were innocent children!" you voiced, outraged with the small-minded thinking.

You looked to your parents for support but were only met by them avoiding your stare. They believed their actions were reasonable and considered them valid. You were not the one who was influenced... they were.

"Damn you all," you muttered, turning your back to the villagers.

"We did this for you to survive, Y/n! And here you are, well and alive. You kept your promise, so please come home!"

"Survived...survived..." Your chest heaved as you began to laugh hysterically. You placed your children down before rising, "Is this what survival is, just staying alive? Well, if that is the case, then yes, I have survived just like I promised, but with the cost of my life! I may have survived, but I will never live...not without them."

"There will be other opportunities to have children, my dear, with a far better suitor," your mother attempted to persuade, her arms still held open.

"Excuse me?"

That had done it.

"The man you practically sold me to was far from my first choice of significant other, but at least he managed to give my life some meaning, something to live for...and you took it from me, the last crowd of people I thought would do such a thing...how naive of me."

"Y/n, if we-"

"If you what?! Tell me, if you had known those children were mine, would you have spared them, given them mercy?"

No response.

"That's what I thought. You know I had hoped to come home with open arms, and shown by tonight, my wish came true; however, that was before I had the twins– the dream expanded to have all three of us welcomed with warmth...how pitifully optimistic of me."

"Y/n, I cannot tell you those events you hoped for would have come to fruition, but I can tell you this: you can start over, have a family you have always dreamed of... pure children."

Silence.

"They. Were. PURE!"

And just like that, the extent of that unusual feeling lingering in your chest had unleashed. The full extent of your furry had combusted in the form of your cursed energy and technique. Within the blink of an eye, what was once a bustling village full of chatter and laughter was now a blazing inferno filled with screams and cries.

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their bodies contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were retired to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollers of distress with its rapid thumping.

They were now suffering the pain and torture you had suffered for years to its full extent...

Unlike you, it was the kind of punishment they deserved.

You allowed yourself to view the sight for a few seconds longer before picking up your son and daughter, balancing them in your embrace again, and turning your back towards the village. You began to walk toward the temple, knowing better than to run off, but it was not like you had a reason to go anywhere else. There was no life for you. You were to remain by Sukuna's side until you died, and you were content with that.

"Y/n."

With all the heightened emotions and events that occurred only moments ago, you had forgotten Sukuna was there. The curse user had not muttered a word nor made a movement. He idly watched your wrath unfold, watched as you burnt your home to the ground.

You paused for a minute, looking blankly ahead as you thought of the past and reflected on your choices. Out of every action you committed, there was one you regretted most.

"I should have killed myself that morning, the morning after the ceremony. It would have saved me a lot of trouble and heartache."

With that, you walked off into the night, letting that thought of regret linger in your mind.

Taglist:

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